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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16798-8.txt b/16798-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fca399 --- /dev/null +++ b/16798-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18477 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Elster's Folly, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Elster's Folly + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: October 4, 2005 [EBook #16798] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSTER'S FOLLY *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ELSTER'S FOLLY + + A NOVEL BY + + MRS. HENRY WOOD + + AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," "JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC. + + 1916 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. By the Early Train + + II. Willy Gum + + III. Anne Ashton + + IV. The Countess-Dowager + + V. Jealousy + + VI. At the Bridge + + VII. Listeners + + VIII. The Wager Boats + + IX. Waiting for Dinner + + X. Mr. Pike's Visit + + XI. The Inquest + + XII. Later in the Day + + XIII. Fever + + XIV. Another Patient + + XV. Val's Dilemma + + XVI. Between the Two + + XVII. An Agreeable Wedding + + XVIII. The Stranger + + XIX. A Chance Meeting + + XX. The Stranger Again + + XXI. Secret Care + + XXII. Asking the Rector + + XXIII. Mr. Carr at Work + + XXIV. Somebody Else at Work + + XXV. At Hartledon + + XXVI. Under the Trees + + XXVII. A Tête-à-Tête Breakfast + + XXVIII. Once more + + XXIX. Cross-questioning Mr. Carr + + XXX. Maude's Disobedience + + XXXI. The Sword slipped + + XXXII. In the Park + + XXXIII. Coming Home + + XXXIV. Mr. Pike on the Wing + + XXXV. The Shed razed + + XXXVI. The Dowager's Alarm + + XXXVII. A Painful Scene + + XXXVIII. Explanations + + + + +ELSTER'S FOLLY + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +BY THE EARLY TRAIN. + + +The ascending sun threw its slanting rays abroad on a glorious August +morning, and the little world below began to awaken into life--the life +of another day of sanguine pleasure or of fretting care. + +Not on many fairer scenes did those sunbeams shed their radiance than on +one existing in the heart of England; but almost any landscape will look +beautiful in the early light of a summer's morning. The county, one of +the midlands, was justly celebrated for its scenery; its rich woods and +smiling plains, its river and gentler streams. The harvest was nearly +gathered in--it had been a late season--but a few fields of golden grain, +in process of reaping, gave their warm tints to the landscape. In no part +of the country had the beauties of nature been bestowed more lavishly +than on this, the village of Calne, situated about seven miles from the +county town. + +It was an aristocratic village, on the whole. The fine seat of the Earl +of Hartledon, rising near it, had caused a few families of note to settle +there, and the nest of white villas gave the place a prosperous and +picturesque appearance. But it contained a full proportion of the poor or +labouring class; and these people were falling very much into the habit +of writing the village "Cawn," in accordance with its pronunciation. +Phonetic spelling was more in their line than Johnson's Dictionary. Of +what may be called the middle class the village held few, if any: there +were the gentry, the small shopkeepers, and the poor. + +Calne had recently been exalted into importance. A year or two before +this bright August morning some good genius had brought a railway to +it--a railway and a station, with all its accompanying work and bustle. +Many trains passed it in the course of the day; for it was in the direct +line of route from the county town, Garchester, to London, and the +traffic was increasing. People wondered what travellers had done, and +what sort of a round they traversed, before this direct line was made. + +The village itself lay somewhat in a hollow, the ground rising to a +gentle eminence on either side. On the one eminence, to the west, was +situated the station; on the other, eastward, rose the large stone +mansion, Hartledon House. The railway took a slight _détour_ outside +Calne, and was a conspicuous feature to any who chose to look at it; for +the line had been raised above the village hollow to correspond with the +height at either end. + +Six o'clock was close at hand, and the station began to show signs of +life. The station-master came out of his cottage, and opened one or two +doors on the platform. He had held the office scarcely a year yet; and +had come a stranger to Calne. Sitting down in his little bureau of a +place, on the door of which was inscribed "Station-master--Private," he +began sorting papers on the desk before him. A few minutes, and the clock +struck six; upon which he went out to the platform. It was an open +station, as these small stations generally are, the small waiting-rooms +and offices on either side scarcely obstructing the view of the country, +and the station-master looked far out in the distance, towards the east, +beyond the low-lying village houses, shading his eyes with his hand from +the dazzling sun. + +"Her's late this morning." + +The interruption came from the surly porter, who stood by, and referred +to the expected train, which ought to have been in some minutes before. +According to the precise time, as laid down in the way-bills, it should +reach Calne seven minutes before six. + +"They have a heavy load, perhaps," remarked the station-master. + +The train was chiefly for goods; a slow train, taking no one knew how +many hours to travel from London. It would bring passengers also; but +very few availed themselves of it. Now and then it happened that the +station at Calne was opened for nothing; the train just slackened its +speed and went on, leaving neither goods nor anything else behind it. +Sometimes it took a few early travellers from Calne to Garchester; +especially on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Garchester market-days; but it +rarely left passengers at Calne. + +"Did you hear the news, Mr. Markham?" asked the porter. + +"What news?" returned the station-master. + +"I heard it last night. Jim come into the Elster Arms with it, and _he'd_ +heard it at Garchester. We are going to have two more sets o' telegraph +wires here. I wonder how much more work they'll give us to do?" + +"So you were at the Elster Arms again last night, Jones?" remarked the +station-master, his tone reproving, whilst he passed over in silence Mr. +Jones's item of news. + +"I wasn't in above an hour," grumbled the man. + +"Well, it is your own look-out, Jones. I have said what I could to you at +odd times; but I believe it has only tried your patience; so I'll say no +more." + +"Has my wife been here again complaining?" asked the man, raising his +face in anger. + +"No; I have not seen your wife, except at church, these two months. But +I know what public-houses are to you, and I was thinking of your little +children." + +"Ugh!" growled the man, apparently not gratified at the reminder of his +flock; "there's a peck o' _them_ surely! Here she comes!" + +The last sentence was spoken in a different tone; one of relief, either +at getting rid of the subject, or at the arrival of the train. It was +about opposite to Hartledon when he caught sight of it, and it came on +with a shrill whistle, skirting the village it towered above; a long line +of covered waggons with a passenger carriage or two attached to them. +Slackening its pace gradually, but not in time, it shot past the station, +and had to back into it again. + +The guard came out of his box and opened the door of one of the +carriages--a dirty-looking second-class compartment; the other was a +third-class; and a gentleman leaped out. A tall, slender man of about +four-and-twenty; a man evidently of birth and breeding. He wore a light +summer overcoat on his well-cut clothes, and had a most attractive face. + +"Is there any law against putting on a first-class carriage to this +night-train?" he asked the guard in a pleasing voice. + +"Well, sir, we never get first-class passengers by it," replied the man; +"or hardly any passengers at all, for the matter of that. We are too long +on the road for passengers to come by us." + +"It might happen, though," returned the traveller, significantly. "At +any rate, I suppose there's no law against your carriages being clean, +whatever their class. Look at that one." + +He pointed to the one he had just left, as he walked up to the +station-master. The guard looked cross, and gave the carriage door +a slam. + +"Was a portmanteau left here last night by the last train from London?" +inquired the traveller of the station-master. + +"No, sir; nothing was left here. At least, I think not. Any name on it, +sir?" + +"Elster." + +A quick glance from the station-master's eyes met the answer. Elster was +the name of the family at Hartledon. He wondered whether this could be +one of them, or whether the name was merely a coincidence. + +"There was no portmanteau left, was there, Jones?" asked the +station-master. + +"There couldn't have been," returned the porter, touching his cap to the +stranger. "I wasn't on last night; Jim was; but it would have been put in +the office for sure; and there's not a ghost of a thing in it this +morning." + +"It must have been taken on to Garchester," remarked the traveller; and, +turning to the guard, he gave him directions to look after it, and +despatch it back again by the first train, slipping at the same time a +gratuity into his hand. + +The guard touched his hat humbly; he now knew who the gentleman was. And +he went into inward repentance for slamming the carriage-door, as he got +into his box, and the engine and train puffed on. + +"You'll send it up as soon as it comes," said the traveller to the +station-master. + +"Where to, sir?" + +The stranger raised his eyes in slight surprise, and pointed to the house +in the distance. He had assumed that he was known. + +"To Hartledon." + +Then he _was_ one of the family! The station-master touched his hat. +Mr. Jones, in the background, touched his, and for the first time the +traveller's eye fell upon him as he was turning to leave the platform. + +"Why, Jones! It's never you?" + +"Yes, it is, sir." But Mr. Jones looked abashed as he acknowledged +himself. And it may be observed that his language, when addressing this +gentleman, was a slight improvement upon the homely phraseology of his +everyday life. + +"But--you are surely not working here!--a porter!" + +"My business fell through, sir," returned the man. "I'm here till I can +turn myself round, sir, and get into it again." + +"What caused it to fall through?" asked the traveller; a kindly sympathy +in his fine blue eyes. + +Mr. Jones shuffled upon one foot. He would not have given the true +answer--"Drinking"--for the world. + +"There's such opposition started up in the place, sir; folks would draw +your heart's blood from you if they could. And then I've such a lot of +mouths to feed. I can't think what the plague such a tribe of children +come for. Nobody wants 'em." + +The traveller laughed; but put no further questions. Remembering somewhat +of Mr. Jones's propensity in the old days, he thought perhaps something +besides children and opposition had had to do with the downfall. He stood +for a moment looking at the station which had not been completed when he +last saw it--and a very pretty station it was, surrounded by its gay +flowerbeds--and then went down the road. + +"I suppose he is one of the Hartledon family, Jones?" said the +station-master, looking after him. + +"He's the earl's brother," replied Mr. Jones, relapsing into sulkiness. +"There's only them two left; t'other died. Wonder if they be coming to +Hartledon again? Calne haven't seemed the same since they left it." + +"Which is this one?" + +"He can't be anybody but himself," retorted Mr. Jones, irascibly, deeming +the question superfluous. "There be but the two left, I say--the earl and +him; everybody knows him for the Honourable Percival Elster. The other +son, George, died; leastways, was murdered." + +"Murdered!" echoed the station-master aghast. + +"I don't see that it could be called much else but murder," was Mr. +Jones's answer. "He went out with my lord's gamekeepers one night and +got shot in a poaching fray. 'Twas never known for certain who fired the +shot, but I think I could put my finger on the man if I tried. Much good +_that_ would do, though! There's no proof." + +"What are you saying, Jones?" cried the station-master, staring at his +subordinate, and perhaps wondering whether he had already that morning +paid a visit to the tap of the Elster Arms. + +"I'm saying nothing that half the place didn't say at the time, Mr. +Markham. _You_ hadn't come here then, Mr. Elster--he was the Honourable +George--went out one night with the keepers when warm work was expected, +and got shot for his pains. He lived some weeks, but they couldn't cure +him. It was in the late lord's time. _He_ died soon after, and the place +has been deserted ever since." + +"And who do you suppose fired the shot?" + +"Don't know that it 'ud be safe to say," rejoined the man. "He might give +my neck a twist some dark night if he heard on't. He's the blackest sheep +we've got in Calne, sir." + +"I suppose you mean Pike," said the station-master. "He has the character +for being that, I believe. I've seen no harm in the man myself." + +"Well, it was Pike," said the porter. "That is, some of us suspected him. +And that's how Mr. George Elster came by his death. And this one, Mr. +Percival, shot up into notice, as being the only one left, except Lord +Elster." + +"And who's Lord Elster?" asked the station-master, not remembering to +have heard the title before. + +Mr. Jones received the question with proper contempt. Having been +familiar with Hartledon and its inmates all his life, he had as little +compassion for those who were not so, as he would have had for a man who +did not understand that Garchester was in England. + +"The present Earl of Hartledon," said he, shortly. "In his father's +lifetime--and the old lord lived to see Mr. George buried--he was Lord +Elster. Not one of my tribe of brats but could tell that any Lord Elster +must be the eldest son of the Earl of Hartledon," he concluded with a +fling at his superior. + +"Ah, well, I have had other 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 +_attaché_ 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 with his mother. + +"Did Capper see you as you came by, sir? Wouldn't she be struck!" + +"Nearly into stone," he laughed. + +Mirrable disappeared for a minute or two, and came back with a silver +coffee-pot in her hand. The name of the lodge-keeper had brought to his +remembrance the unpleasant hint she mentioned, and he spoke of it +impulsively--as he did most things. + +"Mirrable, what man is it they call Pike, who has taken possession of +that old shed?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, sir," answered Mirrable, after a pause, which Mr. +Elster thought was involuntary; for she was busy at the moment rubbing +the coffee-pot with some wash-leather, her head and face bent over it, as +she stood with her back to him. He slipped off the table, and went up to +her. + +"I saw smoke rising from the shed, and asked Capper what it meant, and +she told me about this man Pike. Pike! It's a curious name." + +Mirrable rubbed away, never answering. + +"Capper said he had been suspected of firing the shot that killed my +brother," he continued, in low tones. "Did _you_ ever hear of such a +hint, Mirrable?" + +Mirrable darted off to the fireplace, and began stirring the milk lest it +should boil over. Her face was almost buried in the saucepan, or Mr. +Elster might have seen the sudden change that came over it; the thin +cheeks that had flushed crimson, and now were deadly white. Lifting the +saucepan on to the hob, she turned to Mr. Elster. + +"Don't you believe any such nonsense, sir," she said, in tones of strange +emphasis. "It was no more Pike than it was me. The man keeps himself to +himself, and troubles nobody; and for that very reason idle folk carp at +him, like the mischief-making idiots they are!" + +"I thought there was nothing in it," remarked Mr. Elster. + +"I'm _sure_ there isn't," said Mirrable, conclusively. "Would you like +some broiled ham, sir?" + +"I should like anything good and substantial, for I'm as hungry as +a hunter. But, Mirrable, you don't ask what has brought me here so +suddenly." + +The tone was significant, and Mirrable looked at him. There was a spice +of mischief in his laughing blue eyes. + +"I come on a mission to you; an avant-courier from his lordship, to +charge you to have all things in readiness. To-morrow you will receive +a houseful of company; more than Hartledon will hold." + +Mirrable looked aghast. "It is one of your jokes, Mr. Val!" + +"Indeed, it is the truth. My brother will be down with a trainful; and +desires that everything shall be ready for their reception." + +"My patience!" gasped Mirrable. "And the servants, sir?" + +"Most of them will be here to-night. The Countess-Dowager of Kirton is +coming as Hartledon's mistress for the time being." + +"Oh!" said Mirrable, who had once had the honour of seeing the +Countess-Dowager of Kirton. And the monosyllable was so significant +that Val Elster drew down the corners of his mouth. + +"I don't like the Countess-Dowager, sir," remarked Mirrable in her +freedom. + +"I can't bear her," returned Val Elster. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +WILLY GUM. + + +Had Percival Elster lingered ever so short a time near the clerk's house +that morning he would have met that functionary himself; for in less than +a minute after he had passed out of sight Jabez Gum's door opened, and +Jabez Gum glided out of it. + +It is a term chiefly applied to ghosts; but Mr. Gum was a great deal more +like a ghost than like a man. He was remarkably tall and thin; a very +shadow; with a white shadow of a face, and a nose that might have served +as a model for a mask in a carnival of guys. A sharp nose, twice the +length and half the breadth of any ordinary nose--a very ferret of a +nose; its sharp tip standing straight out into the air. People said, with +such a nose Mr. Gum ought to have a great deal of curiosity. And they +were right; he _had_ a great deal in a quiet way. + +A most respectable man was Mr. Gum, and he prided himself upon it. Mr. +Gum--more often called Clerk Gum in the village--had never done a wrong +thing in his life, or fallen into a scrape. He had been altogether a +pattern to Calne in general, and to its black sheep in particular. Dr. +Ashton himself could not have had less brought against him than Clerk +Gum; and it would just have broken Mr. Gum's heart had his good name been +tarnished in ever so slight a degree. Perhaps no man living had been born +with a larger share of self-esteem than Jabez Gum. Clerk of the parish +longer than Dr. Ashton had been its Rector, Jabez Gum had lived at his +ease in a pecuniary point of view. It was one of those parishes (I think +few of them remain now) where the clerk's emoluments are large. He also +held other offices; was an agent for one or two companies, and was looked +upon as an exceedingly substantial man for his station in life. Perhaps +he was less so than people imagined. The old saying is all too true: +"Nobody knows where the shoe pinches but he who wears it." + +Jabez Gum had his thorn, as a great many more of us have ours, if the +outside world only knew it. And Jabez, at odd moments, when the thorn +pierced him very sharply, had been wont to compare his condition to St. +Paul's, and to wonder whether the pricks inflicted on that holy man could +have bled as his own did. He meant no irreverence when he thought this; +neither do I in writing it. We are generally wounded in the most +vulnerable spot about us, and Jabez Gum made no exception to the rule. He +had been assailed in his cherished respectability, his self-esteem. +Assailed and _scarred_. How broad and deep the scar was Jabez never told +the world, which as a rule does not sympathise with such scars, but turns +aside in its cruel indifference. The world had almost forgotten the scar +now, and supposed Clerk Gum had done the same. It was all over and done +with years ago. + +Jabez Gum's wife--to whom you will shortly have the honour of an +introduction, but she is in her bedroom just now--had borne him one +child, and only one. How this boy was loved, how tenderly reared, let +Calne tell you. Mrs. Gum had to endure no inconsiderable amount of +ridicule at the time from her gossiping friends, who gave Willy sundry +endearing names, applied in derision. Certainly, if any mother ever was +bound up in a child, Mrs. Gum was in hers. The boy was well brought up. A +good education was given him; and at the age of sixteen he went to London +and to fortune. The one was looked upon as a natural sequence to the +other. Some friend of Jabez Gum's had interested himself to procure the +lad's admission into one of the great banks as a junior clerk. He might +rise in time to be cashier, manager, even partner; who knew? Who knew +indeed? And Clerk Gum congratulated himself, and was more respectable +than ever. + +Better that Willy Gum had remained at Calne! And yet, and again--who +knew? When the propensity for ill-doing exists it is sure to come out, no +matter where. There were some people in Calne who could have told Clerk +Gum, even then, that Willy, for his age, was tolerably fast and forward. +Mrs. Gum had heard of one or two things that had caused her hair to rise +on end with horror; ay, and with apprehension; but, foolish mother that +she was, not a syllable did she breathe to the clerk; and no one else +ventured to tell him. + +She talked to Willy with many sighs and tears; implored him to be a good +boy and enter on good courses, not on bad ones that would break her +heart. Willy, the little scapegrace, was willing to promise anything. He +laughed and made light of it; it wasn't his fault if folks told stories +about him; she couldn't be so foolish as to give ear to them. London? Oh, +he should be all right in London! One or two fellows here were rather +fast, there was no denying it; and they drew him with them; they were +older than he, and ought to have known better. Once away from Calne, they +could have no more influence over him, and he should be all right. + +She believed him; putting faith in the plausible words. Oh, what trust +can be so pure, and at the same time so foolish, as that placed by a +mother in a beloved son! Mrs. Gum had never known but one idol on earth; +he who now stood before her, lightly laughing at her fears, making his +own tale good. She leaned forward and laid her hands upon his shoulders +and kissed him with that impassioned fervour that some mothers could tell +of, and whispered that she would trust him wholly. + +Mr. Willy extricated himself with as little impatience as he could help: +these embraces were not to his taste. And yet the boy did love his +mother. She was not at all a wise woman, or a clever one; rather silly, +indeed, in many things; but she was fond of him. At this period he was +young-looking for his age, slight, and rather undersized, with an +exceedingly light complexion, a wishy-washy sort of face with no colour +in it, unmeaning light eyes, white eyebrows, and ragged-looking light +hair with a tawny shade upon it. + +Willy Gum departed for London, and entered on his engagement in the great +banking-house of Goldsworthy and Co. + +How he went on in it Calne could not get to learn, though it was +moderately inquisitive upon the point. His father and mother heard from +him occasionally; and once the clerk took a sudden and rather mysterious +journey to London, where he stayed for a whole week. Rumour said--I +wonder where such rumours first have their rise--that Willy Gum had +fallen into some trouble, and the clerk had had to buy him out of it at +the cost of a mint of money. The clerk, however, did not confirm this; +and one thing was indisputable: Willy retained his place in the +banking-house. Some people looked on this fact as a complete refutation +of the rumour. + +Then came a lull. Nothing was heard of Willy; that is, nothing beyond the +reports of Mrs. Gum to her gossips when letters arrived: he was well, and +getting on well. It was only the lull that precedes a storm; and a storm +indeed burst on quiet Calne. Willy Gum had robbed the bank and +disappeared. + +In the first dreadful moment, perhaps the only one who did _not_ +disbelieve it was Clerk Gum. Other people said there must be some +mistake: it could not be. Kind old Lord Hartledon came down in his +carriage to the clerk's house--he was too ill to walk--and sat with +the clerk and the weeping mother, and said he was sure it could not be +so bad as was reported. The next morning saw handbills--great, staring, +large-typed handbills--offering a reward for the discovery of William +Gum, posted all over Calne. + +Once more Clerk Gum went to London. What he did there no one knew. One +thing only was certain--he did not find Willy or any trace of him. The +defalcation was very nearly eight hundred pounds; and even if Mr. Gum +could have refunded that large sum, he might not do so, said Calne, for +of course the bank would not compound a felony. He came back looking ten +years older; his tall, thin form more shadowy, his nose longer and +sharper. Not a soul ventured to say a syllable to him, even of +condolence. He told Lord Hartledon and his Rector that no tidings +whatever could be gleaned of his unhappy son; the boy had disappeared, +and might be dead for all they knew to the contrary. + +So the handbills wore themselves out on the walls, serving no purpose, +until Lord Hartledon ordered them to be removed; and Mrs. Gum lived in +tears, and audibly wished herself dead. She had not seen her boy since he +quitted Calne, considerably more than two years before, and he was now +nearly nineteen. A few days' holiday had been accorded him by the +banking-house each Christmas; but the first Christmas Willy wrote word +that he had accepted an invitation to go home with a brother-clerk; the +second Christmas he said he could not obtain leave of absence--which Mrs. +Gum afterwards found was untrue; so that Willy Gum had not been at Calne +since he left it. And whenever his mother thought of him--and that was +every hour of the day and night--it was always as the fair, young, +light-haired boy, who seemed to her little more than a child. + +A year or so of uncertainty, of suspense, of wailing, and then came a +letter from Willy, cautiously sent. It was not addressed directly to Mrs. +Gum, to whom it was written, but to one of Willy's acquaintances in +London, who enclosed it in an envelope and forwarded it on. + +Such a letter! To read it one might have thought Mr. William Gum had gone +out under the most favourable auspices. He was in Australia; had gone up +to seek his fortune at the gold-diggings, and was making money rapidly. +In a short time he should refund with interest the little sum he had +borrowed from Goldsworthy and Co., and which was really not taken with +any ill intention, but was more an accident than anything else. After +that, he should accumulate money on his own score, and--all things being +made straight at home--return and settle down, a rich man for life. And +she--his mother--might rely on his keeping his word. At present he was at +Melbourne; to which place he and his mates had come to bring their +acquired gold, and to take a bit of a spree after their recent hard work. +He was very jolly, and after a week's holiday they should go back again. +And he hoped his father had overlooked the past; and he remained ever her +affectionate son, William Gum. + +The effect of this letter upon Mrs. Gum was as though a dense cloud had +suddenly lifted from the world, and given place to a flood of sunshine. +We estimate things by comparison. Mrs. Gum was by nature disposed to look +on the dark side of things, and she had for the whole year past been +indulging the most dread pictures of Willy and his fate that any woman's +mind ever conceived. To hear that he was in life, and well, and making +money rapidly, was the sweetest news, the greatest relief she could ever +experience in this world. + +Clerk Gum--relieved also, no doubt--received the tidings in a more sober +spirit; almost as if he did not dare to believe in them. The man's heart +had been well-nigh broken with the blow that fell upon him, and nothing +could ever heal it thoroughly again. He read the letter in silence; read +it twice over; and when his wife broke out into a series of rapt +congratulations, and reproached him mildly for not appearing to think +it true, he rather cynically inquired what then, if true, became of her +dreams. + +For Mrs. Gum was a dreamer. She was one of those who are now and again +visited by strange dreams, significant of the future. Poor Mrs. Gum +carried these dreams to an excess; that is, she was always having them +and always talking about them. It had been no wonder, with her mind in so +miserable a state regarding her son, that her dreams in that first +twelve-month had generally been of him and generally bad. The above +question, put by her husband, somewhat puzzled her. Her dreams _had_ +foreshadowed great evil still to Willy; and her dreams had never been +wrong yet. + +But, in the enjoyment of positive good, who thinks of dreams? No one. And +Mrs. Gum's grew a shade brighter, and hope again took possession of her +heart. + +Two years rolled on, during which they heard twice from Willy; +satisfactory letters still, in a way. Both testified to his "jolly" +state: he was growing rich, though not quite so rapidly as he had +anticipated; a fellow had to spend so much! Every day he expected to pick +up a nugget which would crown his fortune. He complained in these letters +that he did not hear from home; not once had news reached him; had his +father and mother abandoned him? + +The question brought forth a gush of tears from Mrs. Gum, and a sharp +abuse of the post-office. The clerk took the news philosophically, +remarking that the wonder would have been had Willy received the letters, +seeing that he seemed to move about incessantly from place to place. + +Close upon this came another letter, written apparently in haste. Willy's +"fortune" had turned into reality at last; he was coming home with more +gold than he could count; had taken his berth in the good ship _Morning +Star_, and should come off at once to Calne, when the ship reached +Liverpool. There was a line written inside the envelope, as though he had +forgotten to include it in the letter: "I have had one from you at last; +the first you wrote, it seems. Thank dad for what he has done for me. +I'll make it all square with him when I get home." + +This had reference to a fact which Calne did not know. In that unhappy +second visit of Clerk Gum's to London, he _did_ succeed in appeasing the +wrath of Goldsworthy and Co., and paid in every farthing of the money. +How far he might have accomplished this but for being backed by the +urgent influence of old Lord Hartledon, was a question. One thing was in +his favour: the firm had not taken any steps whatever in the matter, and +those handbills circulated at Calne were the result of a misapprehension +on the part of an officious local police-officer. Things had gone too far +for Goldsworthys graciously to condone the offence--and Clerk Gum paid in +his savings of years. This was the fact written by Mrs. Gum to her son, +which had called forth the line in the envelope. + +Alas! those were the last tidings ever received from Willy Gum. Whilst +Mrs. Gum lived in a state of ecstacy, showing the letter to her +neighbours and making loving preparations for his reception, the time for +the arrival of the _Morning Star_ at Liverpool drew on, and passed, and +the ship did not arrive. + +A time of anxious suspense to all who had relations on board--for it was +supposed she had foundered at sea--and tidings came to them. An awful +tale; a tale of mutiny and wrong and bloodshed. Some of the loose +characters on board the ship--and she was bringing home such--had risen +in disorder within a month of their sailing from Melbourne; had killed +the captain, the chief officer, and some of the passengers and crew. + +The ringleader was a man named Gordon; who had incited the rest to the +crime, and killed the captain with his own hand. Obtaining command of the +ship, they put her about, and commenced a piratical raid. One vessel they +succeeded in disarming, despoiling, and then leaving her to her fate. But +the next vessel they attacked proved a more formidable enemy, and there +was a hand-to-hand struggle for the mastery, and for life or death. The +_Morning Star_ was sunk, with the greater portion of her living freight. +A few, only some four or five, were saved by the other ship, and conveyed +to England. + +It was by them the dark tale was brought. The second officer of the +_Morning Star_ was one of them; he had been compelled to dissemble and to +appear to serve the mutinous band; the others were innocent passengers, +whose lives had not been taken. All agreed in one thing: that Gordon, the +ringleader, had in all probability escaped. He had put off from the +_Morning Star_, when she was sinking, in one of her best boats; he and +some of his lawless helpmates, with a bag of biscuit, a cask of water, +and a few bottles that probably contained rum. Whether they succeeded in +reaching a port or in getting picked up, was a question; but it was +assumed they had done so. + +The owners of the _Morning Star_, half paralyzed at the news of so daring +and unusual an outrage, offered the large reward of five hundred pounds +for the capture of George Gordon; and Government increased the offer by +two hundred, making it seven in all. + +Overwhelming tidings for Clerk Gum and his wife! A brief season of +agonized suspense ensued for the poor mother; of hopes and fears as to +whether Willy was amongst the remnant saved; and then hope died away, for +he did not come. + +Once more, for the last time, Clerk Gum took a journey, not to London, +but to Liverpool. He succeeded in seeing the officer who had been +saved; but he could give him no information. He knew the names of the +first-class passengers, but only a few of the second-class; and in that +class Willy had most likely sailed. + +The clerk described his son; and the officer thought he remembered him: +he had a good deal of gold on board, he said. One of the passengers spoke +more positively. Yes, by Clerk Gum's description, he was sure Willy Gum +had been his fellow-passenger in the second cabin, though he did not +recollect whether he had heard his name. It seemed, looking back, that +the passengers had hardly had time to become acquainted with each other's +names, he added. He was sure it was the young man; of very light +complexion, ready and rather loose (if Mr. Gum would excuse his saying +so) in speech. He had made thoroughly good hauls of gold at the last, and +was going home to spend it. He was the second killed, poor fellow; had +risen up with a volley of oaths (excuses begged again) to defend the +captain, and was struck down and killed. + +Poor Jabez Gum gasped. _Killed?_ was the gentleman _sure_? Quite sure; +and, moreover, he saw his body thrown overboard with the rest of the +dead. And the money--the gold? Jabez asked, when he had somewhat +recovered himself. The passenger laughed--not at the poor father, but at +the worse than useless question; gold and everything else on board the +_Morning Star_ had gone down with her to the bottom of the sea. + +A species of savage impulse rose in the clerk's mind, replacing his first +emotion of grief; an impulse that might almost have led him to murder the +villain Gordon, could he have come across him. Was there a chance that +the man would be taken? he asked. Every chance, if he dared show his face +in England, the passenger answered. A reward of seven hundred pounds was +an inducement to the survivors to keep their eyes open; and they'd do it, +besides, without any reward. Moreover--if Gordon had escaped, his +comrades in the boat had escaped with him. They were lawless men like +himself, every one of them, and they would be sure to betray him when +they found what a price was set upon his capture. + +Clerk Gum returned home, bearing to his wife and Calne the final tidings +which crushed out all hope. Mrs. Gum sank into a state of wild despair. +At first it almost seemed to threaten loss of reason. Her son had been +her sole idol, and the idol was shattered. But to witness unreasonably +violent grief in others always has a counteracting effect on our own, +and Mr. Gum soothed his sorrow and brought philosophy to his aid. + +"Look you," said he, one day, sharply to his wife, when she was crying +and moaning, "there's two sides to every calamity,--a bright and a dark +'un;" for Mr. Gum was not in the habit of treating his wife, in the +privacy of their domestic circle, to the quality-speech kept for the +world. "He is gone, and we can't help it; we'd have welcomed him home if +we could, and killed the fatted calf, but it was God's will that it +shouldn't be. There may be a blessing in it, after all. Who knows but he +might have broke out again, and brought upon us what he did before, or +worse? For my part, I should never have been without the fear; night and +morning it would always have stood before me; not to be driven away. As +it is, I am at rest." + +She--the wife--took her apron from her eyes and looked at him with a sort +of amazed anger. + +"Gum! do you forget that he had left off his evil ways, and was coming +home to be a comfort to us?" + +"No, I don't forget it," returned Mr. Gum. "But who was to say that the +mood would last? He might have got through his gold, however much it was, +and then--. As it is, Nance Gum, we can sleep quiet in our beds, free +from _that_ fear." + +Clerk Gum was not, on the whole, a model of suavity in the domestic fold. +The first blow that had fallen upon him seemed to have affected his +temper; and his helpmate knew from experience that whenever he called her +"Nance" his mood was at its worst. + +Suppressing a sob, she spoke reproachfully. + +"It's my firm belief, Gum, and has been all along, that you cared more +for your good name among men than you did for the boy." + +"Perhaps I did," he answered, by way of retort. "At any rate, it might +have been better for him in the long-run if we--both you and me--hadn't +cared for him quite so foolishly in his childhood; we spared the rod and +we spoiled the child. That's over, and--" + +"It's _all_ over," interrupted Mrs. Gum; "over for ever in this world. +Gum, you are very hard-hearted." + +"And," he continued, with composure, "we may hope now to live down in +time the blow he brought upon us, and hold up our heads again in the face +of Calne. We couldn't have done that while he lived." + +"We couldn't?" + +"No. Just dry up your useless tears, Nancy; and try to think that all's +for the best." + +But, metaphorically speaking, Mrs. Gum could not dry her tears. Nearly +two years had elapsed since the fatal event; and though she no longer +openly lamented, filling Calne with her cries and her faint but heartfelt +prayers for vengeance on the head of the cruel monster, George Gordon, as +she used to do at first, she had sunk into a despairing state of mind +that was by no means desirable: a startled, timid, superstitious woman, +frightened at every shadow. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ANNE ASHTON. + + +Jabez Gum came out of his house in the bright summer morning, missing Mr. +Elster by one minute only. He went round to a small shed at the back of +the house and brought forth sundry garden-tools. The whole garden was +kept in order by himself, and no one had finer fruit and vegetables than +Clerk Gum. Hartledon might have been proud of them, and Dr. Ashton +sometimes accepted a dish with pleasure. + +In his present attire: dark trousers, and a short close jacket buttoned +up round him and generally worn when gardening, the worthy man might +decidedly have been taken for an animated lamp-post by any stranger who +happened to come that way. He was applying himself this morning, first to +the nailing of sundry choice fruit-trees against the wall that ran down +one side of his garden--a wall that had been built by the clerk himself +in happier days; and next, to plucking some green walnuts for his wife to +pickle. As he stood on tip-toe, his long thin body and long thin arms +stretched up to the walnut-tree, he might have made the fortune of any +travelling caravan that could have hired him. The few people who passed +him greeted him with a "Good morning," but he rarely turned his head in +answering them. Clerk Gum had grown somewhat taciturn of late years. + +The time went on. The clock struck a quarter-past seven, and Jabez Gum, +as he heard it, left the walnut-tree, walked to the gate, and leaned over +it; his face turned in the direction of the village. It was not the +wooden gate generally attached to smaller houses in rustic localities, +but a very pretty iron one; everything about the clerk's house being +of a superior order. Apparently, he was looking out for some one in +displeasure; and, indeed, he had not stood there a minute, when a girl +came flying down the road, and pushed the gate and the clerk back +together. + +Mr. Gum directed her attention to the church clock. "Do you see the time, +Rebecca Jones?" + +Had the pages of the church-register been visible as well as the clock, +Miss Rebecca Jones's age might have been seen to be fifteen; but, in +knowledge of the world and in impudence, she was considerably older. + +"Just gone seven and a quarter," answered she, making a feint of shading +her eyes with her hands, though the sun was behind her. + +"And what business have you to come at seven and a quarter? Half-past six +is your time; and, if you can't keep it, your missis shall get those that +can." + +"Why can't my missis let me stop at night and clear up the work?" +returned the girl. "She sends me away at six o'clock, as soon as I've +washed the tea-things, and oftentimes earlier than that. It stands to +reason I can't get through the work of a morning." + +"You could do so quite well if you came to time," said the clerk, turning +away to his walnut-tree. "Why don't you?" + +"I overslept myself this morning. Father never called me afore he went +out. No doubt he had a drop too much last night." + +She went flying up the gravel-path as she spoke. Her father was the man +Jones whom you saw at the railway station; her step-mother (for her own +mother was dead) was Mrs. Gum's cousin. + +She was a sort of stray sheep, this girl, in the eyes of Calne, not +belonging very much to any one; her father habitually neglected her, her +step-mother had twice turned her out of doors. Some three or four months +ago, when Mrs. Gum was changing her servant, she had consented to try +this girl. Jabez Gum knew nothing of the arrangement until it was +concluded, and disapproved of it. Altogether, it did not work +satisfactorily: Miss Jones was careless, idle, and impudent; her +step-mother was dissatisfied because she was not taken into the house; +and Clerk Gum threatened every day, and his wife very often, to dismiss +her. + +It was only within a year or two that they had not kept an indoor +servant; and the fact of their not doing so now puzzled the gossips of +Calne. The clerk's emoluments were the same as ever; there was no Willy +to encroach on them now; and the work of the house required a good +servant. However, it pleased Mrs. Gum to have one in only by day; and who +was to interfere with her if the clerk did not? + +Jabez Gum worked on for some little time after eight o'clock, the +breakfast-hour. He rather wondered he was not called to it, and +registered a mental vow to discharge Miss Becky. Presently he went +indoors, put his head into a small sitting-room on the left, and found +the room empty, but the breakfast laid. The kitchen was behind it, and +Jabez Gum stalked on down the passage, and went into it. On the other +side of the passage was the best sitting-room, and a very small room at +the back of it, which Jabez used as an office, and where he kept sundry +account-books. + +"Where's your missis?" asked he of the maid, who was on her knees +toasting bread. + +"Not down yet," was the short response. + +"Not down yet!" repeated Jabez in surprise, for Mrs. Gum was generally +down by seven. "You've got that door open again, Rebecca. How many more +times am I to tell you I won't have it?" + +"It's the smoke," said Rebecca. "This chimbley always smokes when it's +first lighted." + +"The chimney doesn't smoke, and you know that you are telling a +falsehood. What do you want with it open? You'll have that wild man +darting in upon you some morning. How will you like that?" + +"I'm not afeard of him," was the answer, as Rebecca got up from her +knees. "He couldn't eat me." + +"But you know how timid your mistress is," returned the clerk, in a voice +of extreme anger. "How dare you, girl, be insolent?" + +He shut the door as he spoke--one that opened from the kitchen to the +back garden--and bolted it. Washing his hands, and drying them with a +round towel, he went upstairs, and found Mrs. Gum--as he had now and then +found her of late--in a fit of prostration. She was a little woman, with +a light complexion, and insipid, unmeaning face--some such a face as +Willy's had been--and her hair, worn in neat bands under her cap, was the +colour of tow. + +"I couldn't help it, Gum," she began, as she stood before the glass, her +trembling fingers trying to fasten her black alpaca gown--for she had +never left off mourning for their son. "It's past eight, I know; but I've +had such an upset this morning as never was, and I _couldn't_ dress +myself. I've had a shocking dream." + +"Drat your dreams!" cried Mr. Gum, very much wanting his breakfast. + +"Ah, Gum, don't! Those morning dreams, when they're vivid as this was, +are not sent for ridicule. Pike was in it; and you know I can't _bear_ +him to be in my dreams. They are always bad when he is in them." + +"If you wanted your breakfast as much as I want mine, you'd let Pike +alone," retorted the clerk. + +"I thought he was mixed up in some business with Lord Hartledon. I don't +know what it was, but the dream was full of horror. It seemed that Lord +Hartledon was dead or dying; whether he'd been killed or not, I can't +say; but an awful dread was upon me of seeing him dead. A voice called +out, 'Don't let him come to Calne!' and in the fright I awoke. I can't +remember what part Pike played in the dream," she continued, "only the +impression remained that he was in it." + +"Perhaps he killed Lord Hartledon?" cried Gum, mockingly. + +"No; not in the dream. Pike did not seem to be mixed up in it for ill. +The ill was all on Lord Hartledon; but it was not Pike brought it upon +him. Who it was, I couldn't see; but it was not Pike." + +Clerk Gum looked down at his wife in scornful pity. He wondered +sometimes, in his phlegmatic reasoning, why women were created such +fools. + +"Look here, Mrs. G. I thought those dreams of yours were pretty nearly +dreamed out--there have been enough of 'em. How any woman, short of a +born idiot, can stand there and confess herself so frightened by a dream +as to be unable to get up and go about her duties, is beyond me." + +"But, Gum, you don't let me finish. I woke up with the horror, I tell +you--" + +"What horror?" interrupted the clerk, angrily. "What did it consist of? +I can't see the horror." + +"Nor can I, very clearly," acknowledged Mrs. Gum; "but I know it was +there. I woke up with the very words in my ears, 'Don't let him come to +Calne!' and I started out of bed in terror for Lord Hartledon, lest he +_should_ come. We are only half awake, you know, at these moments. I +pulled the curtain aside and looked out. Gum, if ever I thought to drop +in my life, I thought it then. There was but one person to be seen in the +road--and it was Lord Hartledon." + +"Oh!" said Mr. Gum, cynically, after a moment of natural surprise. "Come +out of his vault for a morning walk past your window, Mrs. G.!" + +"Vault! I mean young Lord Hartledon, Gum." + +Mr. Gum was a little taken back. They had been so much in the habit of +calling the new Lord Hartledon, Lord Elster--who had not lived at Calne +since he came into the title--that he had thought of the old lord when +his wife was speaking. + +"He was up there, just by the turning of the road, going on to Hartledon. +Gum, I nearly dropped, I say. The next minute he was out of sight; then I +rubbed my eyes and pinched my arms to make sure I was awake." + +"And whether you saw a ghost, or whether you didn't," came the mocking +retort. + +"It was no ghost, Gum; it was Lord Hartledon himself." + +"Nonsense! It was just as much one as the other. The fact is, you hadn't +quite woke up out of that fine dream of yours, and you saw double. It was +just as much young Hartledon as it was me." + +"I never saw a ghost yet, and I don't fear I ever shall, Gum. I tell +you it was Lord Hartledon. And if harm doesn't befall him at Calne, as +shadowed forth in my dream, never believe me again." + +"There, that's enough," peremptorily cried the clerk; knowing, if once +Mrs. Gum took up any idea with a dream for its basis, how impossible it +was to turn her. "Is the key of that kitchen door found yet?" + +"No: it never will be, Gum. I've told you so before. My belief is, and +always has been, that Rebecca let it drop by accident into the waste +bucket." + +"_My_ belief is, that Rebecca made away with it for her own purposes," +said the clerk. "I caught her just now with the door wide open. She's +trying to make acquaintance with the man Pike; that's what she's at." + +"Oh, Gum!" + +"Yes; it's all very well to say 'Oh, Gum!' but if you were below-stairs +looking after her, instead of dreaming up here, it might be better for +everyone. Let me once be certain about it, and off she goes the next +hour. A fine thing 'twould be some day for us to find her head smothered +in the kitchen purgatory, and the silver spoons gone; as will be the case +if any loose characters get in." + +He was descending the stairs as he spoke the last sentence, delivered in +loud tones, probably for the benefit of Miss Rebecca Jones. And lest the +intelligent Protestant reader should fear he is being introduced to +unorthodox regions, it may be as well to mention that the "purgatory" in +Mr. Jabez Gum's kitchen consisted of an excavation, two feet square, +under the hearth, covered with a grating through which the ashes and +the small cinders fell; thereby enabling the economical housewife to +throw the larger ones on the fire again. Such wells or "purgatories," as +they are called, are common enough in the old-fashioned kitchens of +certain English districts. + +Mrs. Gum, ready now, had been about to follow her husband; but his +suggestion--that the girl was watching an opportunity to make +acquaintance with their undesirable neighbour, Pike--struck her +motionless. + +It seemed that she could never see this man without a shiver, or overcome +the fright experienced when she first met him. It was on a dark autumn +night. She was coming through the garden when she discerned, or thought +she discerned, a light in the abandoned shed. Thinking of fire, she +hastily crossed the stile that divided their garden from the waste land, +and ran to it. There she was confronted by what she took to be a +bear--but a bear that could talk; for he gruffly asked her who she was +and what she wanted. A black-haired, black-browed man, with a pipe +between his teeth, and one sinewy arm bared to the elbow. + +How Mrs. Gum tore away and tumbled over the stile in her terror, and got +home again, she never knew. She supposed it to be a tramp, who had taken +shelter there for the night; but finding to her dismay that the tramp +stayed on, she had never overcome her fright from that hour to this. + +Neither did her husband like the proximity of such a gentleman. They +caused securer bolts to be put on their doors--for fastenings in small +country places are not much thought about, people around being +proverbially honest. They also had their shutters altered. The shutters +to the windows, back and front, had holes in them in the form of a +heart, such as you may have sometimes noticed. Before the wild-looking +man--whose name came to be known as Pike--had been in possession of the +shed a fortnight, Jabez Gum had the holes in his shutters filled-in and +painted over. An additional security, said the neighbours: but poor timid +Mrs. Gum could not overcome that first fright, and the very mention of +the man set her trembling and quaking. + +Nothing more was said of the dream or the apparition, real or fancied, of +Lord Hartledon: Clerk Gum did not encourage the familiar handling of such +topics in everyday life. He breakfasted, devoted an hour to his own +business in the little office, and then put on his coat to go out. It was +Friday morning. On that day and on Wednesdays the church was open for +baptisms, and it was the clerk's custom to go over at ten o'clock and +apprize the Rector of any notices he might have had. + +Passing in at the iron gates, the large white house rose before him, +beyond the wide lawn. It had been built by Dr. Ashton at his own +expense. The old Rectory was a tumbledown, inconvenient place, always +in dilapidation, for as soon as one part of it was repaired another +fell through; and the Rector opened his heart and his purse, both +large and generous, and built a new one. Mr. Gum was making his way +unannounced to the Rector's study, according to custom, when a door on +the opposite side of the hall opened, and Dr. Ashton came out. He was a +pleasant-looking man, with dark hair and eyes, his countenance one of +keen intellect; and though only of middle height, there was something +stately, grand, imposing in his whole appearance. + +"Is that you, Jabez?" + +Connected with each other for so many years--a connection which had begun +when both were young--the Rector and Mrs. Ashton had never called him +anything but Jabez. With other people he was Gum, or Mr. Gum, or Clerk +Gum: Jabez with them. He, Jabez, was the older man of the two by six or +seven years, for the Rector was not more than forty-five. The clerk +crossed the hall, its tessellated flags gleaming under the colours +thrown in by the stained windows, and entered the drawing-room, a noble +apartment looking on to the lawn in front. Mrs. Ashton, a tall, +delicate-looking woman, with a gentle face, was standing before a +painting just come home and hung up; to look at which the Rector and +his wife had gone into the room. + +It was the portrait of a sweet-looking girl with a sunny countenance. The +features were of the delicate contour of Mrs. Ashton's; the rich brown +hair, the soft brown eyes, and the intellectual expression of the face +resembled the doctor's. Altogether, face and portrait were positively +charming; one of those faces you must love at first sight, without +waiting to question whether or not they are beautiful. + +"Is it a good likeness, Jabez?" asked the Rector, whilst Mrs. Ashton made +room for him with a smile of greeting. + +"As like as two peas, sir," responded Jabez, when he had taken a long +look. "What a face it is! Oftentimes it comes across my mind when I am +not thinking of anything but business; and I'm always the better for it." + +"Why, Jabez, this is the first time you have seen it." + +"Ah, ma'am, you know I mean the original. There's two baptisms to-day, +sir," he added, turning away; "two, and one churching. Mrs. Luttrell and +her child, and the poor little baby whose mother died." + +"Mrs. Luttrell!" repeated the Rector. "It's soon for her, is it not?" + +"They want to go away to the seaside," replied the clerk. "What about +that notice, sir?" + +"I'll see to it before Sunday, Jabez. Any news?" + +"No, sir; not that I've heard of. My wife wanted to persuade me she +saw--" + +At this moment a white-haired old serving-man entered the room with +a note, claiming the Rector's attention. "The man's to take back the +answer, sir, if you please." + +"Wait then, Simon." + +Old Simon stood aside, and the clerk, turning to Mrs. Ashton, continued +his unfinished sentence. + +"She wanted to persuade me she saw young Lord Hartledon pass at six +o'clock this morning. A very likely tale that, ma'am." + +"Perhaps she dreamt it, Jabez," said Mrs. Ashton, quietly. + +Jabez chuckled; but what he would have answered was interrupted by the +old servant. + +"It's Mr. Elster that's come; not Lord Hartledon." + +"Mr. Elster! How do you know, Simon?" asked Mrs. Ashton. + +"The gardener mentioned it, ma'am, when he came in just now," was the +servant's reply. "He said he saw Mr. Elster walk past this morning, as if +he had just come by the luggage-train. I'm not sure but he spoke to him." + +"The answer is 'No,' Simon," interposed the Rector, alluding to the note +he had been reading. "But you can send word that I'll come in some time +to-day." + +"Charles, did you hear what Simon said--that Mr. Elster has come down?" +asked Mrs. Ashton. + +"Yes, I heard it," replied the doctor; and there was a hard dry tone in +his voice, as if the news were not altogether palatable to him. "It must +have been Percival Elster your wife saw, Jabez; not Lord Hartledon." + +Jabez had been arriving at the same conclusion. "They used to be much +alike in height and figure," he observed; "it was easy to mistake the one +for the other. Then that's all this morning, sir?" + +"There is nothing more, Jabez." + +In a room whose large French window opened to flowerbeds on the side of +the house, bending over a table on which sundry maps were spread, her +face very close to them, sat at this moment a young lady. It was the same +face you have just seen in the portrait--that of Dr. and Mrs. Ashton's +only daughter. The wondrously sunny expression of countenance, blended +with strange sweetness, was even more conspicuous than in the portrait. +But what perhaps struck a beholder most, when looking at Miss Ashton for +the first time, was a nameless grace and refinement that distinguished +her whole appearance. She was of middle height, not more; slender; her +head well set upon her shoulders. This was her own room; the schoolroom +of her girlhood, the sitting-room she had been allowed to call her own +since then. Books, work, music, a drawing-easel, and various other items, +presenting a rather untidy collection, met the eye. This morning it was +particularly untidy. The charts covered the table; one of them lay on the +carpet; and a pot of mignonette had been overturned inside the open +window scattering some of the mould. She was very busy; the open sleeves +of her lilac-muslin dress were thrown back, and her delicate hands were +putting the finishing touches in pencil to a plan she had been copying, +from one of the maps. A few minutes more, and the pencil was thrown down +in relief. + +"I won't colour it this morning; it must be quite an hour and a half +since I began; but the worst is done, and that's worth a king's ransom." +In the escape from work, the innocent gaiety of her heart, she broke into +a song, and began waltzing round the room. Barely had she passed the open +window, her back turned to it, when a gentleman came up, looked in, +stepped softly over the threshold, and imprisoned her by the waist. + +"Be quiet, Arthur. Pick up that mignonette-pot you threw down, sir." + +"My darling!" came in a low, heartfelt whisper. And Miss Ashton, with a +faint cry, turned to see her engaged lover, Val Elster. + +She stood before him, literally unable to speak in her great +astonishment, the red roses going and coming in her delicate cheeks, +the rich brown eyes, that might have been too brilliant but for their +exceeding sweetness, raised questioningly to his. Mr. Elster folded her +in his arms as if he would never release her again, and kissed the +shrinking face repeatedly. + +"Oh, Percival, Percival! Don't! Let me go." + +He did so at last, and held her before him, her eyelids drooping now, +to gaze at the face he loved so well--yes, loved fervently and well, in +spite of his follies and sins. Her heart was beating wildly with its own +rapture: for her the world had suddenly grown brighter. + +"But when did you arrive?" she whispered, scarcely knowing how to utter +the words in her excessive happiness. + +He took her upon his arm and began to pace the room with her while he +explained. There was an attempt at excuse for his prolonged absence--for +Val Elster had returned from his duties in Vienna in May, and it was now +August, and he had lingered through the intervening time in London, +enjoying himself--but that was soon glossed over; and he told her how his +brother was coming down on the morrow with a houseful of guests, and he, +Val, had offered to go before them with the necessary instructions. He +did not say _why_ he had offered to do this; that his debts had become so +pressing he was afraid to show himself longer in London. Such facts were +not for the ear of that fair girl, who trusted him as the truest man she +knew under heaven. + +"What have you been doing, Anne?" + +He pointed to the maps, and Miss Ashton laughed. + +"Mrs. Graves was here yesterday; she is very clever, you know; and when +something was being said about the course of ships out of England, I made +some dreadful mistakes. She took me up sharply, and papa looked at me +sharply--and the result is, I have to do a heap of maps. Please tell me +if it's right, Percival?" + +She held up her pencilled work of the morning. He was laughing. + +"What mistakes did you make, Anne?" + +"I am not sure but I said something about an Indiaman, leaving the London +Docks, having to pass Scarborough," she returned demurely. "It was quite +as bad." + +"Do you remember, Anne, being punished for persisting, in spite of the +slate on the wall and your nursery-governess, that the Mediterranean lay +between Scotland and Ireland? Miss Jevons wanted to give you bread and +water for three days. How's that prig Graves?" he added rather abruptly. + +Anne Ashton laughed, blushing slightly. "He is just as you left him; very +painstaking and efficient in the parish, and all that, but, oh, so stupid +in some things! Is the map right?" + +"Yes, it's right. I'll help you with the rest. If Dr. Ashton--" + +"Why, Val! Is it you? I heard Lord Hartledon had come down." + +Percival Elster turned. A lad of seventeen had come bounding in at +the window. It was Dr. Ashton's eldest living son, Arthur. Anne was +twenty-one. A son, who would have been nineteen now, had died; and +there was another, John, two years younger than Arthur. + +"How are you, Arthur, boy?" cried Val. "Edward hasn't come. Who told you +he had?" + +"Mother Gum. I have just met her." + +"She told you wrong. He will be down to-morrow. Is that Dr. Ashton?" + +Attracted perhaps by the voices, Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were then out +on the lawn, came round to the window. Percival Elster grasped a hand of +each, and after a minute or two's studied coldness, the doctor thawed. It +was next to impossible to resist the genial manner, the winning +attractions of the young man to his face. But Dr. Ashton could not +approve of his line of conduct; and had sore doubts whether he had done +right in allowing him to become the betrothed of his dearly-loved +daughter. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER. + + +The guests had arrived, and Hartledon was alive with bustle and lights. +The first link in the chain, whose fetters were to bind more than one +victim, had been forged. Link upon link; a heavy, despairing burden no +hand could lift; a burden which would have to be borne for the most part +in dread secrecy and silence. + +Mirrable had exerted herself to good purpose, and Mirrable was capable +of it when occasion needed. Help had been procured from Calne, and on +the Friday evening several of the Hartledon servants arrived from the +town-house. "None but a young man would have put us to such a rout," +quoth Mirrable, in her privileged freedom; "my lord and lady would have +sent a week's notice at least." But when Lord Hartledon arrived on the +Saturday evening with his guests, Mirrable was ready for them. + +She stood at the entrance to receive them, in her black-silk gown and +lace cap, its broad white-satin strings falling on either side the bunch +of black ringlets that shaded her thin face. Who, to look at her quick, +sharp countenance, with its practical sense, her active frame, her ready +speech, her general capability, would believe her to be sister to that +silly, dreaming Mrs. Gum? But it was so. Lord Hartledon, kind, affable, +unaffected as ever was his brother Percival, shook hands with her +heartily in the eyes of his guests before he said a word of welcome to +them; and one of those guests, a remarkably broad woman, with a red face, +a wide snub nose, and a front of light flaxen hair, who had stepped into +the house leaning on her host's arm--having, in fact, taken it unasked, +and seemed to be assuming a great deal of authority--turned round to +stare at Mirrable, and screwed her little light eyes together for a +better view. + +"Who is she, Hartledon?" + +"Mrs. Mirrable," answered his lordship rather shortly. "I think you must +have seen her before. She has been Hartledon's mistress since my mother +died," he rather pointedly added, for he saw incipient defiance in the +old lady's countenance. + +"Oh, Hartledon's head servant; the housekeeper, I presume," cried she, +as majestically as her harsh voice allowed her to speak. "Perhaps you'll +tell her who I am, Hartledon; and that I have undertaken to preside here +for a little while." + +"I believe Mrs. Mirrable knows you, ma'am," spoke up Percival Elster, for +Lord Hartledon had turned away, and was lost amongst his guests. "You +have seen the Countess-Dowager of Kirton, Mirrable?" + +The countess-dowager faced round upon the speaker sharply. + +"Oh, it's _you_, Val Elster? Who asked you to interfere? I'll see the +rooms, Mirrable, and the arrangements you have made. Maude, where are +you? Come with me." + +A tall, stately girl, with handsome features, raven hair and eyes, and +a brilliant colour, extricated herself from the crowd. It was Lady Maude +Kirton. Mirrable went first; the countess-dowager followed, talking +volubly; and Maude brought up the rear. Other servants came forward to +see to the rest of the guests. + +The most remarkable quality observable in the countess-dowager, apart +from her great breadth, was her restlessness. She seemed never still for +an instant; her legs had a fidgety, nervous movement in them, and in +moments of excitement, which were not infrequent, she was given to +executing a sort of war-dance. Old she was not; but her peculiar graces +of person, her rotund form, her badly-made front of flaxen curls, which +was rarely in its place, made her appear so. A bold, scheming, +unscrupulous, vulgar-minded woman, who had never considered other +people's feelings in her life, whether equals or inferiors. In her day +she must have been rather tall--nearly as tall as that elegant Maude who +followed her; but her astounding width caused her now to appear short. +She went looking into the different rooms as shown to her by Mirrable, +and chose the best for herself and her daughter. + +"Three en suite. Yes, that will be the thing, Mirrable. Lady Maude will +take the inner one, I will occupy this, and my maid the outer. Very good. +Now you may order the luggage up." + +"But my lady," objected Mirrable, "these are the best rooms in the house; +and each has a separate entrance, as you perceive. With so many guests to +provide for, your maid cannot have one of these rooms." + +"What?" cried the countess-dowager. "My maid not have one of these rooms? +You insolent woman! Do you know that I am come here with my nephew, Lord +Hartledon, to be mistress of this house, and of every one in it? You'd +better mind _your_ behaviour, for I can tell you that I shall look pretty +sharply after it." + +"Then," said Mirrable, who never allowed herself to be put out by any +earthly thing, and rarely argued against the stream, "as your ladyship +has come here as sole mistress, perhaps you will yourself apportion the +rooms to the guests." + +"Let them apportion them for themselves," cried the countess-dowager. +"These three are mine; others manage as they can. It's Hartledon's fault. +I told him not to invite a heap of people. You and I shall get on +together very well, I've no doubt, Mirrable," she continued in a false, +fawning voice; for she was remarkably alive at all times to her own +interests. "Am I to understand that you are the housekeeper?" + +"I am acting as housekeeper at present," was Mirrable's answer. "When my +lord went to town, after my lady's death, the housekeeper went also, and +has remained there. I have taken her place. Lord Elster--Lord Hartledon, +I mean--has not lived yet at Hartledon, and we have had no +establishment." + +"Then who are you?" + +"I was maid to Lady Hartledon for many years. Her ladyship treated me +more as a friend at the last; and the young gentlemen always did so." + +"_Very_ good," cried the untrue voice. "And, now, Mirrable, you can go +down and send up some tea for myself and Lady Maude. What time do we +dine?" + +"Mr. Elster ordered it for eight o'clock." + +"And what business had _he_ to take orders upon himself?" and the pale +little eyes flashed with anger. "Who's Val Elster, that he should +interfere? I sent word by the servants that we wouldn't dine till nine." + +"Mr. Elster is in his own house, madam; and--" + +"In his own house!" raved Lady Kirton. "It's no house of his; it's his +brother's. And I wish I was his brother for a day only; I'd let Mr. Val +know what presumption comes to. Can't dinner be delayed?" + +"I'm afraid not, my lady." + +"Ugh!" snapped the countess-dowager. "Send up tea at once; and let +it be strong, with a great deal of green in it. And some rolled +bread-and-butter, and a little well-buttered toast." + +Mirrable departed with the commands, more inclined to laugh at the +selfish old woman than to be angry. She remembered the countess-dowager +arriving on an unexpected visit some three or four years before, and +finding the old Lord Hartledon away and his wife ill in bed. She remained +three days, completely upsetting the house; so completely upsetting the +invalid Lady Hartledon, that the latter was glad to lend her a sum of +money to get rid of her. + +Truth to say, Lady Kirton had never been a welcome guest at Hartledon; +had been shunned, in fact, and kept away by all sorts of _ruses_. The +only other visit she had paid the family, in Mirrable's remembrance, was +to the town-house, when the children were young. Poor little Val had been +taught by his nurse to look upon her as a "bogey;" went about in terror +of her; and her ladyship detecting the feeling, administered sly pinches +whenever they met. Perhaps neither of them had completely overcome the +antagonism from that time to this. + +A scrambling sort of life had been Lady Kirton's. The wife of a very poor +and improvident Irish peer, who had died early, leaving her badly +provided for, her days had been one long scramble to make both ends meet +and avoid creditors. Now in Ireland, now on the Continent, now coming out +for a few brief weeks of fashionable life, and now on the wing to some +place of safety, had she dodged about, and become utterly unscrupulous. + +There was a whole troop of children, who had been allowed to go to +the good or the bad very much in their own way, with little help or +hindrance from their mother. All the daughters were married now, +excepting Maude, mostly to German barons and French counts. One had +espoused a marquis--native country not clearly indicated; one an Italian +duke: but the marquis lived somewhere over in Algeria in a small lodging, +and the Duke condescended to sing an occasional song on the Italian +stage. + +It was all one to Lady Kirton. They had taken their own way, and she +washed her hands of them as easily as though they had never belonged to +her. Had they been able to supply her with an occasional bank-note, or +welcome her on a protracted visit, they had been her well-beloved and +most estimable daughters. + +Of the younger sons, all were dispersed; the dowager neither knew nor +cared where. Now and again a piteous begging-letter would come from one +or the other, which she railed at and scolded over, and bade Maude +answer. Her eldest son, Lord Kirton, had married some four or five years +ago, and since then the countess-dowager's lines had been harder than +ever. Before that event she could go to the place in Ireland whenever she +liked (circumstances permitting), and stay as long as she liked; but that +was over now. For the young Lady Kirton, who on her own score spent all +the money her husband could scrape together, and more, had taken an +inveterate dislike to her mother-in-law, and would not tolerate her. + +Never, since she was thus thrown upon her own resources, had the +countess-dowager's lucky star been in the ascendant as it had been this +season, for she contrived to fasten herself upon the young Lord +Hartledon, and secure a firm footing in his town-house. She called him +her nephew--"My nephew Hartledon;" but that was a little improvement upon +the actual relationship, for she and the late Lady Hartledon had been +cousins only. She invited herself for a week's sojourn in May, and had +never gone away again; and it was now August. She had come down with him, +_sans cérémonie_, to Hartledon; had told him (as a great favour) that she +would look after his house and guests during her stay, as his mother +would have done. Easy, careless, good-natured Hartledon acquiesced, and +took it all as a matter of course. To him she was ever all sweetness +and suavity. + +None knew better on which side her bread was buttered than the +countess-dowager. She liked it buttered on both sides, and generally +contrived to get it. + +She had come down to Hartledon House with one fixed determination--that +she did not quit it until the Lady Maude was its mistress. For a long +while Maude had been her sole hope. Her other daughters had married +according to their fancy--and what had come of it?--but Maude was +different. Maude had great beauty; and Maude, truth to say, was almost +as selfishly alive to her own interest as her mother. _She_ should marry +well, and so be in a position to shelter the poor, homeless, wandering +dowager. Had she chosen from the whole batch of peers, not one could have +been found more eligible than he whom fortune seemed to have turned up +for her purpose--Lord Hartledon; and before the countess-dowager had been +one week his guest in London she began her scheming. + +Lady Maude was nothing loth. Young, beautiful, vain, selfish, she yet +possessed a woman's susceptible heart; though surrounded with luxury, +dress, pomp, show, which are said to deaden the feelings, and in some +measure do deaden them, Lady Maude insensibly managed to fall in love, as +deeply as ever did an obscure damsel of romance. She had first met him +two years before, when he was Viscount Elster; had liked him then. Their +relationship sanctioned their being now much together, and the Lady Maude +lost her heart to him. + +Would it bring forth fruit, this scheming of the countess-dowager's, and +Maude's own love? In her wildest hopes the old woman never dreamed of +what that fruit would be; or, unscrupulous as she was by habit, unfeeling +by nature, she might have carried away Maude from Hartledon within the +hour of their arrival. + +Of the three parties more immediately concerned, the only innocent +one--innocent of any intentions--was Lord Hartledon. He liked Maude very +well as a cousin, but otherwise he did not care for her. They might +succeed--at least, had circumstances gone on well, they might have +succeeded--in winning him at last; but it would not have been from love. +His present feeling towards Maude was one of indifference; and of +marriage at all he had not begun to think. + +Val Elster, on the contrary, regarded Maude with warm admiration. Her +beauty had charms for him, and he had been oftener at her side but for +the watchful countess-dowager. It would have been horrible had Maude +fallen in love with the wrong brother, and the old lady grew to hate him +for the fear, as well as on her own score. The feeling of dislike, begun +in Val's childhood, had ripened in the last month or two to almost open +warfare. He was always in the way. Many a time when Lord Hartledon might +have enjoyed a _tête-à-tête_ with Maude, Val Elster was there to spoil +it. + +But the culminating point had arrived one day, when Val, half laughingly, +half seriously, told the dowager, who had been provoking him almost +beyond endurance, that she might spare her angling in regard to Maude, +for Hartledon would never bite. But that he took his pleasant face beyond +her reach, it might have suffered, for her fingers were held out +alarmingly. + +From that time she took another little scheme into her hands--that of +getting Percival Elster out of his brother's favour and his brother's +house. Val, on his part, seriously advised his brother _not_ to allow the +Kirtons to come to Hartledon; and this reached the ears of the dowager. +You may be sure it did not tend to soothe her. Lord Hartledon only +laughed at Val, saying they might come if they liked; what did it matter? + +But, strange to say, Val Elster was as a very reed in the hands of the +old woman. Let her once get hold of him, and she could turn him any way +she pleased. He felt afraid of her, and bent to her will. The feeling may +have had its rise partly in the fear instilled into his boyhood, partly +in the yielding nature of his disposition. However that might be, it was +a fact; and Val could no more have openly opposed the resolute, +sharp-tongued old woman to her face than he could have changed his +nature. He rarely called her anything but "ma'am," as their nurse had +taught him and his brothers and sisters to do in those long-past years. + +Before eight o'clock the guests had all assembled in the drawing-room, +except the countess-dowager and Maude. Lord Hartledon was going about +amongst them, talking to one and another of the beauties of this, his +late father's place; scarcely yet thought of as his own. He was a tall +slender man; in figure very much resembling Percival, but not in face: +the one was dark, the other fair. There was also the same indolent sort +of movement, a certain languid air discernible in both; proclaiming the +undoubted fact, that both were idle in disposition and given to ennui. +There the resemblance ended. Lord Hartledon had nothing of the +irresolution of Percival Elster, but was sufficiently decisive in +character, prompt in action. + +A noble room, this they were in, as many of the rooms were in the fine +old mansion. Lord Hartledon opened the inner door, and took them into +another, to show them the portrait of his brother George--a fine young +man also, with a fair, pleasing countenance. + +"He is like Elster; not like you, Hartledon," cried a young man, whose +name was Carteret. + +"_Was_, you mean, Carteret," corrected Lord Hartledon, in tones of sad +regret. "There was a great family resemblance between us all, I believe." + +"He died from an accident, did he not?" said Mr. O'Moore, an Irishman, +who liked to be called "The O'Moore." + +"Yes." + +Percival Elster turned to his brother, and spoke in low tones. "Edward, +was any particular person suspected of having fired the shot?" + +"None. A set of loose, lawless characters were out that night, and--" + +"What are you all looking at here?" + +The interruption came from Lady Kirton, who was sailing into the room +with Maude. A striking contrast the one presented to the other. Maude in +pink silk and a pink wreath, her haughty face raised in pride, her dark +eyes flashing, radiantly beautiful. The old dowager, broad as she was +high, her face rouged, her short snub nose always carried in the air, her +light eyes unmeaning, her flaxen eyebrows heavy, her flaxen curls crowned +by a pea-green turban. Her choice attire was generally composed, as +to-day, of some cheap, flimsy, gauzy material bright in colour. This +evening it was orange lace, all flounces and frills, with a lace scarf; +and she generally had innumerable ends of quilted net flying about her +skirts, not unlike tails. It was certain she did not spend much money +upon her own attire; and how she procured the costly dresses for Maude +the latter appeared in was ever a mystery. You can hardly fancy the +bedecked old figure that she made. The O'Moore nearly laughed out, as he +civilly turned to answer her question. + +"We were looking at this portrait, Lady Kirton." + +"And saying how much he was like Val," put in young Carteret, between +whom and the dowager warfare also existed. "Val, which was the elder?" + +"George was." + +"Then his death made you heir-presumptive," cried the thoughtless young +man, speaking impulsively. + +"Heir-presumptive to what?" asked the dowager snapping at the words. + +"To Hartledon." + +"_He_ heir to Hartledon! Don't trouble yourself, young man, to imagine +that Val Elster's ever likely to come into Hartledon. Do you want to +shoot his lordship, as _he_ was shot?" + +The uncalled-for retort, the strangely intemperate tones, the quick +passionate fling of the hand towards the portrait astonished young +Carteret not a little. Others were surprised also; and not one present +but stared at the speaker. But she said no more. The pea-green turban and +flaxen curls were nodding ominously; and that was all. + +The animus to Val Elster was very marked. Lord Hartledon glanced at his +brother with a smile, and led the way back to the other drawing-room. At +that moment the butler announced dinner; the party filed across the hall +to the fine old dining-room, and began finding their seats. + +"I shall sit there, Val. You can take a chair at the side." + +Val did look surprised at this. He was about to take the foot of his +brother's table, as usual; and there was the pea-green turban standing +over him, waiting to usurp it. It would have been quite beyond Val +Elster, in his sensitiveness, to tell her she should not have it; but he +did feel annoyed. He was sweet-tempered, however. Moreover, he was a +gentleman, and only waited to make one remark. + +"I fear you will not like this place, ma'am. Won't it look odd to see a +lady at the bottom of the table?" + +"I have promised my dear nephew to act as mistress, and to see after his +guests; and I don't choose to sit at the side under those circumstances." +But she had looked at Lord Hartledon, and hesitated before she spoke. +Perhaps she thought his lordship would resign the head of the table to +her, and take the foot himself. If so, she was mistaken. + +"You will be more comfortable at the side, Lady Kirton," cried Lord +Hartledon, when he discovered what the bustle was about. + +"Not at all, Hartledon; not at all." + +"But I like my brother to face me, ma'am. It is his accustomed place." + +Remonstrance was useless. The dowager nodded her pea-green turban, and +firmly seated herself. Val Elster dexterously found a seat next Lady +Maude; and a gay gleam of triumph shot out of his deep-blue eyes as he +glanced at the dowager. It was not the seat she would have wished him to +take; but to interfere again might have imperilled her own place. Maude +laughed. She did not care for Val--rather despised him in her heart; but +he was the most attractive man present, and she liked admiration. + +Another link in the chain! For how many, many days and years, dating from +that evening, did that awful old woman take a seat, at intervals, at Lord +Hartledon's table, and assume it as a right! + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +JEALOUSY. + + +The rain poured down on the Monday morning; and Lord Hartledon stood at +the window of the countess-dowager's sitting-room--one she had +unceremoniously adopted for her own private use--smoking a cigar, and +watching the clouds. Any cigar but his would have been consigned to the +other side the door. Mr. Elster had only shown (by mere accident) the +end of his cigar-case, and the dowager immediately demanded what he meant +by displaying that article in the presence of ladies. A few minutes +afterwards Lord Hartledon entered, smoking, and was allowed to enjoy his +cigar with impunity. Good-tempered Val's delicate lips broke into a +silent smile as he marked the contrast. + +He lounged on the sofa, doing nothing, in his idle fashion; Lord +Hartledon continued to watch the clouds. On the previous Saturday night +the gentlemen had entered into an argument about boating: the result was +that a match on the river was arranged, and some bets were pending on it. +It had been fixed to come off this day, Monday; but if the rain continued +to come down, it must be postponed; for the ladies, who had been promised +the treat, would not venture out to see it. + +"It has come on purpose," grumbled Lord Hartledon. "Yesterday was as fine +and bright as it could be, the glass standing at set fair; and now, just +because this boating was to come off, the rain peppers down!" + +The rain excepted, it was a fair vision that he looked out upon. The room +faced the back of the house, and beyond the lovely grounds green slopes +extended to the river, tolerably wide here, winding peacefully in its +course. The distant landscape was almost like a scene from fairyland. + +The restless dowager--in a nondescript head-dress this morning, adorned +with an upright tuft of red feathers and voluminous skirts of brown net, +a jacket and flounces to match--betook herself to the side of Lord +Hartledon. + +"Where d'you get the boats?" she asked. + +"They are kept lower down, at the boat-house," he replied, puffing at his +cigar. "You can't see it from here; it's beyond Dr. Ashton's; lots of +'em; any number to be had for the hiring. Talking of Dr. Ashton, they +will dine here to-day, ma'am." + +"Who will?" asked Lady Kirton. + +"The doctor, Mrs. Ashton--if she's well enough--and Miss Ashton." + +"Who are they, my dear nephew?" + +"Why, don't you know? Dr. Ashton preached to you yesterday. He is Rector +of Calne; you must have heard of Dr. Ashton. They will be calling this +morning, I expect." + +"And you have invited them to dinner! Well, one must do the civil to this +sort of people." + +Lord Hartledon burst into a laugh. "You won't say 'this sort of people' +when you see the Ashtons, Lady Kirton. They are quite as good as we are. +Dr. Ashton has refused a bishopric, and Anne is the sweetest girl ever +created." + +Lady Maude, who was drawing, and exchanging a desultory sentence once in +a way with Val, suddenly looked up. Her colour had heightened, though it +was brilliant at all times. + +"Are you speaking of my maid?" she said--and it might be that she had not +attended to the conversation, and asked in ignorance, not in scorn. "Her +name is Anne." + +"I was speaking of Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon. + +"Allow me to beg Anne Ashton's pardon," returned Lady Maude; her tone +this time unmistakably mocking. "Anne is so common a name amongst +servants." + +"I don't care whether it is common amongst servants or uncommon," spoke +Lord Hartledon rather hotly, as though he would resent the covert sneer. +"It is Anne Ashton's; and I love the name for her sake. But I think it +a pretty name; and should, if she did not bear it; prettier than yours, +Maude." + +"And pray who _is_ Anne Ashton?" demanded the countess-dowager, with as +much hauteur as so queer an old figure and face could put on, whilst +Maude bent over her employment with white lips. + +"She is Dr. Ashton's daughter," spoke Lord Hartledon, shortly. "My +father valued him above all men. He loved Anne too--loved her dearly; +and--though I don't know whether it is quite fair to Anne to let this +out--the probable future connection between the families was most welcome +to him. Next to my father, we boys reverenced the doctor; he was our +tutor, in a measure, when we were staying at Hartledon; at least, tutor +to poor George and Val; they used to read with him." + +"And you would hint at some alliance between you and this Anne Ashton!" +cried the countess-dowager, in a fume; for she thought she saw a fear +that the great prize might slip through her fingers. "What sort of an +alliance, I should like to ask? Be careful what you say, Hartledon; you +may injure the young woman." + +"I'll take care I don't injure Anne Ashton," returned Lord Hartledon, +enjoying her temper. "As to an alliance with her--my earnest wish is, as +it was my father's, that time may bring it about. Val there knows I wish +it." + +Val glanced at his brother by way of answer. He had taken no part in the +discussion; his slight lips were drawn down, as he balanced a pair of +scissors on his forefinger, and he looked less good-tempered than usual. + +"Has she red hair and sky-blue eyes, and a doll's face? Does she sit in +the pew under the reading-desk with three other dolls?" asked the foaming +dowager. + +Lord Hartledon turned and stared at the speaker in wonder--what could be +so exciting her? + +"She has soft brown hair and eyes, and a sweet gentle face; she is a +graceful, elegant, attractive girl," said he, curtly. "She sat alone +yesterday; for Arthur was in another part of the church, and Mrs. Ashton +was not there. Mrs. Ashton is not in good health, she tells me, and +cannot always come. The Rector's pew is the one with green curtains." + +"Oh, _that_ vulgar-looking girl!" exclaimed Maude, her unjust words--and +she knew them to be unjust--trembling on her lips. "The Grand Sultan +might exalt her to be his chief wife, but he could never make a lady of +her, or get her to look like one." + +"Be quiet, Maude," cried the countess-dowager, who, with all her own +mistakes, had the sense to see that this sort of disparagement would only +recoil upon them with interest, and who did not like the expression of +Lord Hartledon's face. "You talk as if you had seen this Mrs. Ashton, +Hartledon, since your return." + +"I should not be many hours at Hartledon without seeing Mrs. Ashton," he +answered. "That's where I was yesterday afternoon, ma'am, when you were +so kindly anxious in your inquiries as to what had become of me. I dare +say I was absent an unconscionable time. I never know how it passes, once +I am with Anne." + +"We represent Love as blind, you know," spoke Maude, in her desperation, +unable to steady her pallid lips. "You apparently do not see it, Lord +Hartledon, but the young woman is the very essence of vulgarity." + +A pause followed the speech. The countess-dowager turned towards her +daughter in a blazing rage, and Val Elster quitted the room. + +"Maude," said Lord Hartledon, "I am sorry to tell you that you have put +your foot in it." + +"Thank you," panted Lady Maude, in her agitation. "For giving my opinion +of your Anne Ashton?" + +"Precisely. You have driven Val away in suppressed indignation." + +"Is Val of the Anne Ashton faction, that the truth should tell upon him, +as well as upon you?" she returned, striving to maintain an assumption of +sarcastic coldness. + +"It is upon him that the words will tell. Anne is engaged to him." + +"Is it true? Is Val really engaged to her?" cried the countess-dowager in +an ecstacy of relief, lifting her snub nose and painted cheeks, whilst a +glad light came into Maude's eyes again. "I did hear he was engaged to +some girl; but such reports of younger sons go for nothing." + +"Val was engaged to her before he went abroad. Whether he will get her or +not, is another thing." + +"To hear you talk, Hartledon, one might have supposed you cared for the +girl yourself," cried Lady Kirton; but her brow was smooth again, and her +tone soft as honey. "You should be more cautious." + +"Cautious! Why so? I love and respect Anne beyond any girl on earth. But +that Val hastened to make hay when the sun shone, whilst I fell asleep +under the hedge, I don't know but I might have proposed to her myself," +he added, with a laugh. "However, it shall not be my fault if Val does +not win her." + +The countess-dowager said no more. She was worldly-wise in her way, and +thought it best to leave well alone. Sailing out of the room she left +them alone together: as she was fond of doing. + +"Is it not rather--rather beneath an Elster to marry an obscure country +clergyman's daughter?" began Lady Maude, a strange bitterness filling her +heart. + +"I tell you, Maude, the Ashtons are our equals in all ways. He is a proud +old doctor of divinity--not old, however--of irreproachable family and +large private fortune." + +"You spoke of him as a tutor?" + +"A tutor! Oh, I said he was in a measure our tutor when we were young. I +meant in training us--in training us to good; and he allowed George and +Val to read with him, and directed their studies: all for love, and out +of the friendship he and my father bore each other. Dr. Ashton a paid +tutor!" ejaculated Lord Hartledon, laughing at the notion. "Dr. Ashton an +obscure country clergyman! And even if he were, who is Val, that he +should set himself up?" + +"He is the Honourable Val Elster." + +"Very honourable! Val is an unlucky dog of a spendthrift; that's what Val +is. See how many times he has been set up on his legs!--and has always +come down again. He had that place in the Government my father got him. +He was attaché in Paris; subsequently in Vienna; he has had ever so many +chances, and drops through all. One can't help loving Val; he is an +attractive, sweet-tempered, good-natured fellow; but he was certainly +born under an unlucky star. Elster's folly!" + +"Val will drop through more chances yet," remarked Lady Maude. "I pity +Miss Ashton, if she means to wait for him." + +"Means to! She loves him passionately--devotedly. She would wait for him +all her life, and think it happiness only to see him once in a way." + +"As an astronomer looks at a star through a telescope," laughed Maude; +"and Val is not worth the devotion." + +"Val is not a bad fellow in the main; quite the contrary, Maude. Of +course we all know his besetting sin--irresolution. A child might sway +him, either for good or ill. The very best thing that could happen to Val +would be his marriage with Anne. She is sensible and judicious; and I +think Val could not fail to keep straight under her influence. If Dr. +Ashton could only be brought to see the matter in this light!" + +"Can he not?" + +"He thinks--and I don't say he has not reason--that Val should show +some proof of stability before his marriage, instead of waiting until +after it. The doctor has not gone to the extent of parting them, or of +suspending the engagement; but he is prepared to be strict and exacting +as to Mr. Val's line of conduct; and I fancy the suspicion that it would +be so has kept Val away from Calne." + +"What will be done?" + +"I hardly know. Val does not make a confidant of me, and I can't get to +the bottom of how he is situated. Debts I am sure he has; but whether--" + +"Val always had plenty of those," interrupted Maude. + +"True. When my father died, three parts of Val's inheritance went to pay +off debts nobody knew he had contracted. The worst is, he glides into +these difficulties unwittingly, led and swayed by others. We don't say +Elster's sin, or Elster's crimes; we say Elster's folly. I don't believe +Val ever in his life did a bad thing of deliberate intention. Designing +people get hold of him--fast fellows who are going headlong down-hill +themselves--and Val, unable to say 'No,' is drawn here and drawn there, +and tumbles with them into a quagmire, and perhaps has to pay his +friends' costs, as well as his own, before he can get out of it. Do you +believe in luck, Maude?" + +"In luck?" answered Maude, raising her eyes at the abrupt question. "I +don't know." + +"I believe in it. I believe that some are born under a lucky star, and +others under an unlucky one. Val is one of the latter. He is always +unlucky. Set him up, and down he comes again. I don't think I ever knew +Val lucky in my life. Look at his nearly blowing his arm off that time in +Scotland! You will laugh at me, I dare say; but a thought crosses me at +odd moments that his ill-luck will prevail still, in the matter of Miss +Ashton. Not if I can help it, however; I'll do my best, for Anne's sake." + +"You seem to think very much of her yourself," cried Lady Maude, her +cheeks crimsoning with an angry flush. + +"I do--as Val's future wife. I love Anne Ashton better than any one +else in the world. We all loved her. So would you if you knew her. In +my mother's last illness Anne was a greater comfort to her than Laura." + +"Should you ever think of a wife on your own score, she may not like this +warm praise of Miss Anne Ashton," said Lady Maude, assiduously drawing, +her hot face bent down to within an inch of the cardboard. + +"Not like it? She wouldn't be such an idiot, I hope, as to dislike it. Is +not Anne going to be my brother's wife? Did you suppose I spoke of Anne +in that way?--you must have been dreaming, Maude." + +Maude hoped she had been. The young man took his cigar from his mouth, +ran a penknife through the end, and began smoking again. + +"That time is far enough off, Maude. _I_ am not going to tie myself up +with a wife, or to think of one either, for many a long year to come." + +Her heart beat with a painful throbbing. "Why not?" + +"No danger. My wild oats are not sown yet, any more than Val's; only you +don't hear of them, because I have money to back me, and he has not. I +must find a girl I should like to make my wife before that event comes +off, Maude; and I have not found her yet." + +Lady Maude damaged her landscape. She sketched in a tree where a chimney +ought to have been, and laid the fault upon her pencil. + +"It has been real sport, Maude, ever since I came home from knocking +about abroad, to hear and see the old ladies. They think I am to be +caught with a bait; and that bait is each one's own enchanting daughter. +Let them angle, an they please--it does no harm. They are amused, and I +am none the worse. I enjoy a laugh sometimes, while I take care of +myself; as I have need to do, or I might find myself the victim of some +detestable breach-of-promise affair, and have to stand damages. But for +Anne Ashton, Val would have had his head in that Westminster-noose a +score of times; and the wonder is that he has kept out of it. No, thank +you, my ladies; I am not a marrying man." + +"Why do you tell me this?" asked Lady Maude, a sick faintness stealing +over her face and heart. + +"You are one of ourselves, and I tell you anything. It will be fun for +you, Maude, if you'll open your eyes and look on. There are some in the +house now who--" He stopped and laughed. + +"I would rather not hear this!" she cried passionately. "Don't tell me." + +Lord Hartledon looked at her, begged her pardon, and quitted the room +with his cigar. Lady Maude, black as night, dashed her pencil on to the +cardboard, and scored her sketch all over with ugly black lines. Her face +itself looked ugly then. + +"Why did he say this to me?" she asked of her fevered heart. "Was it said +with a purpose? Has he found out that I _love_ him? that my shallow old +mother is one of the subtlest of the anglers? and that--" + +"What on earth are you at with your drawing, Maude?" + +"Oh, I have grown sick of the sketch. I am not in a drawing mood to-day, +mamma." + +"And how fierce you were looking," pursued the countess-dowager, who had +darted in at rather an inopportune moment for Maude--darting in on people +at such moments being her habit. "And that was the sketch Hartledon asked +you to do for him from the old painting!" + +"He may do it himself, if he wants it done." + +"Where is Hartledon?" + +"I don't know. Gone out somewhere." + +"Has he offended you, or vexed you?" + +"Well, he did vex me. He has just been assuring me with the coolest air +that he should never marry; or, at least, not for years and years to +come. He told me to notice what a heap of girls were after him--or their +mothers for them--and the fun he had over it, not being a marrying man." + +"Is that all? You need not have put yourself in a fatigue, and spoilt +your drawing. Lord Hartledon shall be your husband before six months are +over--or reproach me ever afterwards with being a false prophetess and a +bungling manager." + +Maude's brow cleared. She had almost childlike confidence in the tact of +her unscrupulous mother. + +But how the morning's conversation altogether rankled in her heart, +none save herself could tell: ay, and in that of the dowager. Although +Anne Ashton was the betrothed of Percival Elster, and Lord Hartledon's +freely-avowed love for her was evidently that of a brother, and he had +said he should do all he could to promote the marriage, the strongest +jealousy had taken possession of Lady Maude's heart. She already hated +Anne Ashton with a fierce and bitter hatred. She turned sick with envy +when, in the morning visit that was that day paid by the Ashtons, she saw +that Anne was really what Lord Hartledon had described her--one of the +sweetest, most lovable, most charming of girls; almost without her equal +in the world for grace and goodness and beauty. She turned more sick with +envy when, at dinner afterwards, to which the Ashtons came, Lord +Hartledon devoted himself to them, almost to the neglect of his other +guests, lingering much with Anne. + +The countess-dowager marked it also, and was furious. Nothing could be +urged against them; they were unexceptionable. The doctor, a chatty, +straightforward, energetic man, of great intellect and learning, and +emphatically a gentleman; his wife attracting by her unobtrusive +gentleness; his daughter by her grace and modest self-possession. +Whatever Maude Kirton might do, she could never, for very shame, again +attempt to disparage them. Surely there was no just reason for the hatred +which took possession of Maude's heart; a hatred that could never be +plucked out again. + +But Maude knew how to dissemble. It pleased her to affect a sudden and +violent friendship for Anne. + +"Hartledon told me how much I should like you," she whispered, as they +sat together on the sofa after dinner, to which Maude had drawn her. "He +said I should find you the dearest girl I ever met; and I do so. May I +call you 'Anne'?" + +Not for a moment did Miss Ashton answer. Truth to say, far from +reciprocating the sudden fancy boasted of by Maude, she had taken an +unaccountable dislike to her. Something of falsity in the tone, of sudden +_hardiesse_ in the handsome black eyes, acted upon Anne as an instinctive +warning. + +"As you please, Lady Maude." + +"Thank you so much. Hartledon whispered to me the secret about you and +Val--Percival, I mean. Shall you accomplish the task, think you?" + +"What task?" + +"That of turning him from his evil ways." + +"His evil ways?" repeated Anne, in a surprised indignation she did not +care to check. "I do not understand you, Lady Maude." + +"Pardon me, my dear Anne: it was hazardous so to speak _to you_. I ought +to have said his thoughtless ways. Quant à moi, je ne vois pas la +différence. Do you understand French?" + +Miss Ashton looked at her, really not knowing what this style of +conversation might mean. Maude continued; she had a habit of putting +forth a sting on occasion, or what she hoped might be a sting. + +"You are staring at the superfluous question. Of course it is one in +these _French_ days, when everyone speaks it. What was I saying? Oh, +about Percival. Should he ever have the luck to marry, meaning the +income, he will make a docile husband; but his wife will have to keep him +under her finger and thumb; she must be master as well as mistress, for +his own sake." + +"I think Mr. Elster would not care to be so spoken of," said Miss Ashton, +her face beginning to glow. + +"You devoted girl! It is you who don't care to hear it. Take care, Anne; +too much love is not good for gaining the mastership; and I have heard +that you are--shall I say it?--_éperdue_." + +Anne, in spite of her calm good sense, was actually provoked to a retort +in kind, and felt terribly vexed with herself for it afterwards. "A +rumour of the same sort has been breathed as to the Lady Maude Kirton's +regard for Lord Hartledon." + +"Has it?" returned Lady Maude, with a cool tone and a glowing face. "You +are angry with me without reason. Have I not offered to swear to you an +eternal friendship?" + +Anne shook her head, and her lips parted with a curious expression. "I do +not swear so lightly, Lady Maude." + +"What if I were to avow to you that it is true?--that I do love Lord +Hartledon, deeply as it is known you love his brother," she added, +dropping her voice--"would you believe me?" + +Anne looked at the speaker's face, but could read nothing. Was she in +jest or earnest? + +"No, I would not believe you," she said, with a smile. "If you did love +him, you would not proclaim it." + +"Exactly. I was jesting. What is Lord Hartledon to me?--save that we are +cousins, and passably good friends. I must avow one thing, that I like +him better than I do his brother." + +"For that no avowal is necessary," said Anne; "the fact is sufficiently +evident." + +"You are right, Anne;" and for once Maude spoke earnestly. "I do _not_ +like Percival Elster. But I will always be civil to him for your sweet +sake." + +"Why do you dislike him?--if I may ask it. Have you any particular reason +for doing so?" + +"I have no reason in the world. He is a good-natured, gentlemanly fellow; +and I know no ill of him, except that he is always getting into scrapes, +and dropping, as I hear, a lot of money. But if he got out of his last +guinea, and went almost in rags, it would be nothing to me; so _that's_ +not it. One does take antipathies; I dare say you do, Miss Ashton. What a +blessing Hartledon did not die in that fever he caught last year! Val +would have inherited. What a mercy!" + +"That he lived? or that Val is not Lord Hartledon?" + +"Both. But I believe I meant that Val is not reigning." + +"You think he would not have made a worthy inheritor?" + +"A worthy inheritor? Oh, I was not glancing at that phase of the +question. Here he comes! I will give up my seat to him." + +It is possible Lady Maude expected some pretty phrases of affection; +begging her to keep it. If so, she was mistaken. Anne Ashton was one of +those essentially quiet, self-possessed girls in society, whose manners +seem almost to border on apathy. She did not say "Do go," or "Don't go." +She was perfectly passive; and Maude moved away half ashamed of herself, +and feeling, in spite of her jealousy and her prejudice, that if ever +there was a ladylike girl upon earth, it was Anne Ashton. + +"How do you like her, Anne?" asked Val Elster, dropping into the vacant +place. + +"Not much." + +"Don't you? She is very handsome." + +"Very handsome indeed. Quite beautiful. But still I don't like her." + +"You would like her if you knew her. She has a rare spirit, only the old +dowager keeps it down." + +"I don't think she much likes you, Val." + +"She is welcome to dislike me," returned Val Elster. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +AT THE BRIDGE. + + +The famous boat-race was postponed. Some of the competitors had +discovered they should be the better for a few days' training, and the +contest was fixed for the following Monday. + +Not a day of the intervening week but sundry small cockle-shells--things +the ladies had already begun to designate as the "wager-boats," each +containing a gentleman occupant, exercising his arms on a pair of +sculls--might be seen any hour passing and repassing on the water; and +the green slopes of Hartledon, which here formed the bank of the river, +grew to be tenanted with fair occupants. Of course they had their +favourites, these ladies, and their little bets of gloves on them. + +As the day for the contest drew near the interest became really exciting; +and on the Saturday morning there was quite a crowd on the banks. The +whole week, since Monday, had been most beautiful--calm, warm, lovely. +Percival Elster, in his rather idle fashion, was not going to join in the +contest: there were enough without him, he said. + +He was standing now, talking to Anne. His face wore a sad expression, +as she glanced up at him from beneath the white feather of her rather +large-brimmed straw hat. Anne had been a great deal at Hartledon that +week, and was as interested in the race as any of them, wearing Lord +Hartledon's colours. + +"How did you hear it, Anne?" he was asking. + +"Mamma told me. She came into my room just now, and said there had been +words." + +"Well, it's true. The doctor took me to task exactly as he used to do +when I was a boy. He said my course of life was sinful; and I rather +fired up at that. Idle and useless it may be, but sinful it is not: +and I said so. He explained that he meant that, and persisted in his +assertion--that an idle, aimless, profitless life was a sinful one. Do +you know the rest?" + +"No," she faltered. + +"He said he would give me to the end of the year. And if I were then +still pursuing my present frivolous course of life, doing no good to +myself or to anyone else, he should cancel the engagement. My darling, +I see how this pains you." + +She was suppressing her tears with difficulty. "Papa will be sure to keep +his word, Percival. He is so resolute when he thinks he is right." + +"The worst is, it's true. I do fall into all sorts of scrapes, and I have +got out of money, and I do idle my time away," acknowledged the young man +in his candour. "And all the while, Anne, I am thinking and hoping to do +right. If ever I get set on my legs again, _won't_ I keep on them!" + +"But how many times have you said so before!" she whispered. + +"Half the follies for which I am now paying were committed when I was but +a boy," he said. "One of the men now visiting here, Dawkes, persuaded me +to put my name to a bill for him for fifteen hundred pounds, and I had to +pay it. It hampered me for years; and in the end I know I must have paid +it twice over. I might have pleaded that I was under age when he got my +signature, but it would have been scarcely honourable to do so." + +"And you never profited by the transaction?" + +"Never by a sixpence. It was done for Dawkes's accommodation, not mine. +He ought to have paid it, you say? My dear, he is a man of straw, and +never had fifteen hundred pounds of his own in his life." + +"Does Lord Hartledon know of this? I wonder he has him here." + +"I did not mention it at the time; and the thing's past and done with. I +only tell you now to give you an idea of the nature of my embarrassments +and scrapes. Not one in ten has really been incurred for myself: they +only fall upon me. One must buy experience." + +Terribly vexed was that sweet face, an almost painful sadness upon the +generally sunny features. + +"I will never give you up, Anne," he continued, with emotion. "I told the +doctor so. I would rather give up life. And you know that your love is +mine." + +"But my duty is theirs. And if it came to a contest--Oh, Percival! you +know, you know which would have to give place. Papa is so resolute in +right." + +"It's a shame that fortune should be so unequally divided!" cried the +young man, resentfully. "Here's Edward with an income of thirty thousand +a year, and I, his own brother, only a year or two younger, can't boast a +fourth part as many hundreds!" + +"Oh, Val! your father left you better off than that!" + +"But so much of it went, Anne," was the gloomy answer. "I never +understood the claims that came in against me, for my part. Edward had no +debts to speak of; but then look at his allowance." + +"He was the eldest son," she gently said. + +"I know that. I am not wishing myself in Edward's place, or he out of it. +I heartily wish him health and a long life to wear his honours; it is no +fault of his that he should be rolling in riches, and I a martyr to +poverty. Still, one can't help feeling at odd moments, when the shoe's +pinching awfully, that the system is not altogether a just one." + +"Was that a sincere wish, Val Elster?" + +Val wheeled round on Lady Maude, from whom the question came. She had +stolen up to them unperceived, and stood there in her radiant beauty, her +magnificent dark eyes and her glowing cheeks set off by a little +coquettish black-velvet hat. + +"A sincere wish--that my brother should live long to enjoy his honours!" +echoed Val, in a surprised tone. "Indeed it is. I hope he will live to a +green old age, and leave goodly sons to succeed him." + +Maude laughed. A brighter hue stole into her face, a softer shade to her +eyes: she saw herself, as in a vision, the goodly mother of those goodly +sons. + +"Are you going to wear _that_?" she asked, touching the knot of ribbon in +Miss Ashton's hands with her petulant fingers. "They are Lord Hartledon's +colours." + +"I shall wear it on Monday. Lord Hartledon gave it to me." + +A rash avowal. The competitors, in a sort of joke, had each given away +one knot of his own colours. Lady Maude had had three given to her; but +she was looking for another worth them all--from Lord Hartledon. And +now--it was given, it appeared, to Anne Ashton! For her very life she +could not have helped the passionate taunt that escaped from her, not in +words, but in tone: + +"To _you_!" + +"Kissing goes by favour," broke from the delicate lips of Val Elster, and +Lady Maude could have struck him for the significant, saucy expression of +his violet-blue eyes. "Edward loves Anne better than he ever loved his +sisters; and for any other love--_that's_ still far enough from his +heart, Maude." + +She had recovered herself instantly; cried out "Yes" to those in the +distance, as if she heard a call, and went away humming a tune. + +"Val, she loves your brother," whispered Anne. + +"Do you think so? I do sometimes; and again I'm puzzled. She acts well +if she does. The other day I told Edward she was in love with him: he +laughed at me, and said I was dreaming; that if she had any love for him, +it was cousin's love. What's more, Anne, he would prefer not to receive +any other; so Maude need not look after him: it will be labour lost. Here +comes that restless old dowager down upon us! I shall leave you to her, +Anne. I never dare say my soul's my own in the presence of that woman." + +Val strolled away as he spoke. He was not at ease that day, and the +sharp, meddling old woman would have been intolerable. It was all very +well to put a good face on matters to Anne, but he was in more perplexity +than he cared to confess to. It seemed to him that he would rather die +than give up Anne: and yet--in the straightforward, practical good sense +of Dr. Ashton, he had a formidable adversary to deal with. + +He suddenly found an arm inserted within his own, and saw it was his +brother. Walking together thus, there was a great resemblance between +them. + +They were of the same height, much the same build; both were very +good-looking men, but Percival had the nicer features; and he was fair, +and his brother dark. + +"What is this, Val, about a dispute with the doctor?" began Lord +Hartledon. + +"It was not a dispute," returned Val. "There were a few words, and I was +hasty. However, I begged his pardon, and we parted good friends." + +"Under a flag of truce, eh?" + +"Something of that sort." + +"Something of that sort!" repeated Lord Hartledon. "Don't you think, Val, +it would be to your advantage if you trusted me more thoroughly than you +do? Tell me the whole truth of your position, and let me see what can be +done for you." + +"There's not much to tell," returned Val, in his stupidity. Even with his +brother his ultra-sensitiveness clung to him; and he could no more have +confessed the extent of his troubles than he could have taken wing that +moment and soared away into the air. Val Elster was one of those who +trust to things "coming right" with time. + +"I have been talking to the doctor, Val. I called in just now to see Mrs. +Ashton, and he spoke to me about you." + +"Very kind of him, I'm sure!" retorted Val. "It is just this, Edward. He +is vexed at what he calls my idle ways, and waste of time: as if I need +plod on, like a city clerk, six days a week and no holidays! I know I +must do something before I can win Anne; and I will do it: but the doctor +need not begin to cry out about cancelling the engagement." + +"How much do you owe, Val?" + +"I can't tell." + +Lord Hartledon thought this an evasion. But it was true. Val Elster knew +he owed a great deal more than he could pay; but how much it might be on +the whole, he had but a very faint idea. + +"Well, Val, I have told the doctor I shall look into matters, and I hope +to do it efficiently, for Anne's sake. I suppose the best thing will be +to try and get you an appointment again." + +"Oh, Edward, if you would! And you know you have the ear of the +ministry." + +"I dare say it can be managed. But this will be of little use if you are +still to remain an embarrassed man. I hear you were afraid of arrest in +London." + +"Who told you that?" + +"Dawkes." + +"Dawkes! Then, Edward--" Val Elster stopped. In his vexation, he was +about to retaliate on Captain Dawkes by a little revelation on the score +of _his_ affairs, certain things that might not have redounded to that +gallant officer's credit. But he arrested the words in time: he was of a +kindly nature, not fond of returning ill for ill. With all his follies, +Val Elster could not remember to have committed an evil act in all his +life, save one. And that one he had still the pleasure of paying for +pretty deeply. + +"Dawkes knows nothing of my affairs except from hearsay, Edward. I was +once intimate with the man; but he served me a shabby trick, and that +ended the friendship. I don't like him." + +"I dare say what he said was not true," said Lord Hartledon kindly. "You +might as well make a confidant of me. However, I have not time to talk +to-day. We will go into the matter, Val, after Monday, when this race has +come off, and see what arrangement can be made for you. There's only one +thing bothers me." + +"What's that?" + +"The danger that it may be a wasted arrangement. If you are only set up +on your legs to come down again, as you have before, it will be so much +waste of time and money; so much loss, to me, of temper. Don't you see, +Val?" + +Percival Elster stopped in his walk, and withdrew his arm from his +brother's; his face and voice full of emotion. + +"Edward, I have learnt a lesson. What it has cost me I hardly yet know: +but it is _learnt_. On my sacred word of honour, in the solemn presence +of Heaven, I assert it, that I will never put my hand to another bill, +whatever may be the temptation. I have overcome, in this respect at +least, my sin." + +"Your sin?" + +"My nature's great sin; the besetting sin that has clung to me through +life; the unfortunate sin that is my bane to this hour--cowardly +irresolution." + +"All right, Val; I see you mean well now. We'll talk of these matters +next week. Instead of Elster's Folly, let it become Elster's Wisdom." + +Lord Hartledon wrung his brother's hand and turned away. His eyes fell on +Miss Ashton, and he went straight up to her. Putting the young lady's arm +within his own, without word or ceremony, he took her off to a distance: +and old Lady Kirton's skirts went round in a dance as she saw it. + +"I am about to take him in hand, Anne, and set him going again: I have +promised Dr. Ashton. We must get him a snug berth; one that even the +doctor won't object to, and set him straight in other matters. If he has +mortgaged his patrimony, it shall be redeemed. And, Anne, I think--I do +think--he may be trusted to keep straight for the future." + +Her soft sweet eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her lips parted with a +sunny smile. Lord Hartledon took her hand within his own as it lay on his +arm, and the furious old dowager saw it all from the distance. + +"Don't say as much as this to him, Anne: I only tell you. Val is so +sanguine, that it may be better not to tell him all beforehand. And I +want, of course, first of all, to get a true list of--that is, a true +statement of facts," he broke off, not caring to speak the word "debts" +to that delicate girl before him. "He is my only brother; my father left +him to me, for he knew what Val was; and I'll do my best for him. I'd do +it for Val's own sake, apart from the charge. And, Anne, once Val is on +his legs with an income, snug and comfortable, I shall recommend him to +marry without delay; for, after all, you will be his greatest safeguard." + +A blush suffused her face, and Lord Hartledon smiled. + +Down came the countess-dowager. + +"Here's that old dowager calling to me. She never lets me alone. Val sent +me into a fit of laughter yesterday, saying she had designs on me for +Maude. Poor deluded woman! Yes, ma'am, I hear. What is it?" + +Mr. Elster went strolling along on the banks of the river, towards Calne; +not with any particular purpose, but in his restless uneasiness. He had a +tender conscience, and his past follies were pressing on it heavily. Of +one thing he felt sure--that he was more deeply involved than Hartledon +or anyone else suspected, perhaps even himself. The way was charming in +fine weather, though less pleasant in winter. It was by no means a +frequented road, and belonged of right to Lord Hartledon only; but it was +open to all. Few chose it when they could traverse the more ordinary way. +The narrow path on the green plain, sheltered by trees, wound in and out, +now on the banks of the river, now hidden amidst a portion of the wood. +Altogether it was a wild and lonely pathway; not one that a timid nature +would choose on a dark night. You might sit in the wood, which lay to the +left, a whole day through, and never see a soul. + +One part of the walk was especially beautiful. A green hollow, where the +turf was soft as moss; open to the river on the right, with a glimpse of +the lovely scenery beyond; and on the left, the clustering trees of the +wood. Yet further, through a break in the trees, might be seen a view of +the houses of Calne. A little stream, or rivulet, trickled from the wood, +and a rustic bridge--more for ornament than use, for a man with long legs +could stride the stream well--was thrown over it. Val had reached thus +far, when he saw someone standing on the bridge, his arms on the parapet, +apparently in a brown study. + +A dark, wild-looking man, whose face, at the first glimpse, seemed all +hair. There was certainly a profusion of it; eyebrows, beard, whiskers, +all heavy, and black as night. He was attired in loose fustian clothes +with a red handkerchief wound round his throat, and a low slouching +hat--one of those called wide-awake--partially concealed his features. By +his side stood another man in plain, dark, rather seedy clothes, the coat +outrageously long. He wore a cloth hat, whose brim hid his face, and he +was smoking a cigar. Both men were slightly built and under middle +height. This one was adorned with red whiskers. + +The moment Mr. Elster set eyes on the dark one, he felt that he saw the +man Pike before him. It happened that he had not met him during these few +days of his sojourn; but some of the men staying at Hartledon had, and +had said what a loose specimen he appeared to be. The other was a +stranger, and did not look like a countryman at all. + +Mr. Elster saw them both give a sharp look at him as he approached; +and then they spoke together. Both stepped off the bridge, as though +deferring to him, and stood aside as they watched him cross over, Pike +touching his wide-awake. + +"Good-day, my lord." + +Val nodded by way of answer, and continued his stroll onwards. In the +look he had taken at Pike, it struck him he had seen the face before: +something in the countenance seemed familiar to his memory. And to his +surprise he saw that the man was young. + +The supposed reminiscence did not trouble him: he was too pre-occupied +with thoughts of his own affairs to have leisure for Mr. Pike's. A short +bit of road, and this rude, sheltered part of the way terminated in more +open ground, where three paths diverged: one to the front of Hartledon; +one to some cottages, and on through the wood to the high-road; and one +towards the Rectory and Calne. Rural paths still, all of them; and the +last was provided with a bench or two. Val Elster strolled on almost to +the Rectory, and then turned back: he had no errand at Calne, and the +Rectory he would rather keep out of just now. When he reached the little +bridge Pike was on it alone; the other had disappeared. As before, he +stepped off to make way for Mr. Elster. + +"I beg pardon, sir, for addressing you just now as Lord Hartledon." + +The salutation took Val by surprise; and though the voice seemed muffled, +as though the man purposely mouthed his words, the accent and language +were superior to anything he might have expected from one of Mr. Pike's +appearance and reputed character. + +"No matter," said Val, courteous even to Pike, in his kindly nature. "You +mistook me for my brother. Many do." + +"Not I," returned the man, assuming a freedom and a roughness at variance +with his evident intelligence. "I know you for the Honourable Percival +Elster." + +"Ah," said Mr. Elster, a slight curiosity stirring his mind, but not +sufficient to induce him to follow it up. + +"But I like to do a good turn if I can," pursued Pike; "and I think, sir, +I did one to you in calling you Lord Hartledon." + +Val Elster had been passing on. He turned and looked at the man. + +"Are you in any little temporary difficulty, might I ask?" continued +Pike. "No offense, sir; princes have been in such before now." + +Val Elster was so supremely conscious, especially in that reflective +hour, of being in a "little difficulty" that might prove more than +temporary, that he could only stare at the questioner and wait for more. + +"No offence again, if I'm wrong," resumed Pike; "but if that man you saw +here on the bridge is not looking after the Honourable Mr. Elster, I'm a +fool." + +"Why do you think this?" inquired Val, too fully aware that the fact was +a likely one to attempt any reproof or disavowal. + +"I'll tell you," said Pike; "I've said I don't mind doing a good turn +when I can. The man arrived here this morning by the slow six train from +London. He went into the Stag and had his breakfast, and has been +covertly dodging about ever since. He inquired his way to Hartledon. The +landlord of the Stag asked him what he wanted there, and got for answer +that his brother was one of the grooms in my lord's service. Bosh! He +went up, sneaking under the hedges and along by-ways, and took a view of +the house, standing a good hour behind a tree while he did it. I was +watching him." + +It instantly struck Percival Elster, by one of those flashes of +conviction that are no less sure than subtle, that Mr. Pike's interest in +this watching arose from a fear that the stranger might have been looking +after _him_. Pike continued: + +"After he had taken his fill of waiting, he came dodging down this way, +and I got into conversation with him. He wanted to know who I was. A poor +devil out of work, I told him; a soldier once, but maimed and good for +little now. We got chatty. I let him think he might trust me, and he +began asking no end of questions about Mr. Elster: whether he went out +much, what were his hours for going out, which road he mostly took in his +walks, and how he could know him from his brother the earl; he had heard +they were alike. The hound was puzzled; he had seen a dozen swells come +out of Hartledon, any one of which might be Mr. Elster; but I found he +had the description pretty accurate. Whilst we were talking, who should +come into view but yourself! 'This is him!' cried he. 'Not a bit of it,' +said I, carelessly; 'that's my lord.' Now you know, sir, why I saluted +you as Lord Hartledon." + +"Where is he now?" asked Percival Elster, feeling that he owed his +present state of liberty to this lawless man. + +Pike pointed to the narrow path in the wood, leading to the high-road. +"I filled him up with the belief that the way beyond this bridge up to +Hartledon was private, and he might be taken up for trespassing if he +attempted to follow it; so he went off that way to watch the front. If +the fellow hasn't a writ in his pocket, or something worse, call me a +simpleton. You are all right, sir, as long as he takes you for Lord +Hartledon." + +But there was little chance the fellow could long take him for Lord +Hartledon, and Percival Elster felt himself attacked with a shiver. He +knew it to be worse than a writ; it was an arrest. An arrest is not a +pleasant affair for any one; but a strong opinion--a certainty--seized +upon Val's mind that this would bring forth Dr. Ashton's veto of +separation from Anne. + +"I thank you for what you have done," frankly spoke Mr. Elster. + +"It's nothing, sir. He'll be dodging about after his prey; but I'll dodge +about too, and thwart his game if I can, though I have to swear that Lord +Hartledon's not himself. What's an oath, more or less, to me?" + +"Where have I seen you before?" asked Val. + +"Hard to say," returned Pike. "I have knocked about in many parts in my +time." + +"Are you from this neighbourhood?" + +"Never was in these parts at all till a year or so ago. It's not two +years yet." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"What I can. A bit of work when I can get it given to me. I went tramping +the country after I left the regiment--" + +"Then you have been a soldier?" interrupted Mr. Elster. + +"Yes, sir. In tramping the country I came upon this place: I crept into +a shed, and was there for some days; rheumatism took hold of me, and I +couldn't move. It was something to find I had a roof of any sort over my +head, and was let lie in it unmolested: and when I got better I stayed +on." + +"And have adopted it as your own, putting a window and a chimney into it! +But do you know that Lord Hartledon may not choose to retain you as a +tenant?" + +"If Lord Hartledon should think of ousting me, I would ask Mr. Elster to +intercede, in requital for the good turn I've done him this day," was the +bold answer. + +Mr. Elster laughed. "What is your name?" + +"Tom Pike." + +"I hear a great deal said of you, Pike, that's not pleasant; that you are +a poacher, and a--" + +"Let them that say so prove it," interrupted Pike, his dark brows +contracting. + +"But how do you manage to live?" + +"That's my business, and not Calne's. At any rate, Mr. Elster, I don't +steal." + +"I heard a worse hint dropped of you than any I have mentioned," +continued Val, after a pause. + +"Tell it out, sir. Let's have the whole catalogue at once." + +"That the night my brother, Mr. Elster, was shot, you were out with the +poachers." + +"I dare say you heard that I shot him, for I know it has been said," +fiercely cried the man. "It's a black lie!--and the time may come when I +shall ram it down Calne's throat. I swear that I never fired a shot that +night; I swear that I no more had a hand in Mr. Elster's death than you +had. Will you believe me, sir?" + +The accents of truth are rarely to be mistaken, and Val was certain he +heard them now. So far, he believed the man; and from that moment +dismissed the doubt from his mind, if indeed he had not dismissed it +before. + +"Do you know who did fire the shot?" + +"I do not; I was not out at all that night. Calne pitched upon me, +because there was no one else in particular to pitch upon. A dozen +poachers were in the fray, most of them with guns; little wonder the +random shot from one should have found a mark. I know nothing more +certain than that, so help--" + +"That will do," interrupted Mr. Elster, arresting what might be coming; +for he disliked strong language. "I believe you fully, Pike. What part of +the country were you born in?" + +"London. Born and bred in it." + +"That I do not believe," he said frankly. "Your accent is not that of a +Londoner." + +"As you will, sir," returned Pike. "My mother was from Devonshire; but I +was born and bred in London. I recognized that one with the writ for a +fellow cockney at once; and for what he was, too--a sheriffs officer. +Shouldn't be surprised but I knew him for one years ago." + +Val Elster dropped a coin into the man's hand, and bade him good morning. +Pike touched his wide-awake, and reiterated his intention of "dodging the +enemy." But, as Mr. Elster 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 VII. + +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, lost his temper; and +for once there was a quarrel, sharp and loud, between the brothers. It +did not last long; in its very midst they parted; throwing cutting words +one at the other. Lord Hartledon quitted the room, to join his guests; +Val Elster strode outside the window to cool his brain. + +But now, look at the obstinate pride of those two foolish men! They were +angry with each other in temper, but not in heart. In Percival Elster's +conscience there was an underlying conviction that his brother had acted +only in thoughtless impulse when he carried the misfortune to the +Rectory; whilst Lord Hartledon was even then full of plans for serving +Val, and considered he had more need to help him than ever. A day or two +given to the indulgence of their anger, and they would be firmer friends +than ever. + +The large French window of the dining-room, opening to the ground, was +flung back by Val Elster; and he stepped forth into the cool night, which +was beautifully fine. The room looked towards the river. The velvet lawn, +wet with the day's rain, lay calm and silent under the bright stars; the +flowers, clustering around far and wide, gave out their sweet and heavy +night perfume. Not an instant had he been outside when he became +conscious that some figure was gliding towards him--was almost close to +him; and he recognised Mr. Pike. Yes, that worthy gentleman appeared to +be only then arriving on his evening visit: in point of fact, he had been +glued ear and eye to the window during the quarrel. + +"What do you want?" demanded Mr. Elster. + +"Well, I came up here hoping to get a word with you, sir," replied the +man in his rough, abrupt manner, more in character with his appearance +and lawless reputation than with his accent and unmistakable +intelligence. "There was a nasty accident a few hours ago: that shark +came across his lordship." + +"I know he did," savagely spoke Val. "The result of your informing him +that I was Lord Hartledon." + +"I did it for the best, Mr. Elster. He'd have nabbed you that very time, +but for my putting him off the scent as I did." + +"Yes, yes, I am aware you did it for the best, and I suppose it turned +out to be so," quickly replied Val, some of his native kindliness +resuming its sway. "It's an unfortunate affair altogether, and that's +the best that can be said of it." + +"What I came up here for was to tell you he was gone." + +"Who is gone?" + +"The shark." + +"Gone!" + +"He went off by the seven train. Lord Hartledon told him he'd communicate +with his principals and see that the affair was arranged. It satisfied +the man, and he went away by the next train--which happened to be the +seven-o'clock one." + +"How do you know this?" asked Mr. Elster. + +"This way," was the answer. "I was hovering about outside that shed of +mine, and I saw the encounter at the parson's gate--for that's where it +took place. The first thing the fellow did when it was all over was to +bolt across the road, and accuse me of purposely misleading him. 'Not a +bit of it,' said I; 'if I did mislead you, it was unintentional, for I +took the one who came over the bridge on Saturday to be Lord Hartledon, +safe as eggs. But they have been down here only a week,' I went on, 'and +I suppose I don't know 'em apart yet.' I can't say whether he believed +me; I think he did; he's a soft sort of chap. It was all right, he said: +the earl had passed his word to him that it should be made so without his +arresting Mr. Elster, and he was off to London at once." + +"And he has gone?" + +Mr. Pike nodded significantly. "I watched him go; dodged him up to the +station and saw him off." + +Then this one danger was over! Val might breathe freely again. + +"And I thought you would like to know the coast was clear; so I came up +to tell you," concluded Pike. + +"Thank you for your trouble," said Mr. Elster. "I shall not forget it." + +"You'll remember it, perhaps, if a question arises touching that shed," +spoke the man. "I may need a word sometime with Lord Hartledon." + +"I'll remember it, Pike. Here, wait a moment. Is Thomas Pike your real +name?" + +"Well, I conclude it is. Pike was the name of my father and mother. As to +Thomas--not knowing where I was christened, I can't go and look at the +register; but they never called me anything but Tom. Did you wish to know +particularly?" + +There was a tone of mockery in the man's answer, not altogether +acceptable to his hearer; and he let him go without further hindrance. +But the man turned back in an instant of his own accord. + +"I dare say you are wanting to know why I did you this little turn, Mr. +Elster. I have been caught in corners myself before now; and if I can +help anybody to get out of them without trouble to myself, I'm willing to +do it. And to circumvent these law-sharks comes home to my spirit as +wholesome refreshment." + +Mr. Pike finally departed. He took the lonely way, and only struck into +the high-road opposite his own domicile, the shed. Passing round it, he +hovered at its rude door--the one he had himself made, along with the +ruder window--and then, treading softly, he stepped to the low stile in +the hedge, which had for years made the boundary between the waste land +on which the shed stood and Clerk Gum's garden. Here he halted a minute, +looking all ways. Then he stepped over the stile, crouched down amongst +Mr. Gum's cabbages, got under shelter of the hedge, and so stole onwards, +until he came to an anchor at the kitchen-window, and laid his ear to the +shutter, just as it had recently been laid against the glass in the +dining-room of my Lord Hartledon. + +That he had a propensity for prying into the private affairs of his +neighbours near and distant, there could be little doubt about. Mr. Pike, +however, was not destined on this one occasion to reap any substantial +reward. The kitchen appeared to be wrapped in perfect silence. Satisfying +himself as to this, he next took off his heavy shoes, stole past the back +door, and so round the clerk's house to the front. Very softly indeed +went he, creeping by the wall, and emerging at last round the angle, by +the window of the best parlour. Here, most excessively to Mr. Pike's +consternation, he came upon a lady doing exactly what he had come to +do--namely, stealthily listening at the window to anything there might be +to hear inside. + +The shrill scream she gave when she found her face in contact with the +wild intruder, might have been heard over at Dr. Ashton's. Clerk Gum, who +had been quietly writing in his office, came out in haste, and recognized +Mrs. Jones, the wife of the surly porter at the station, and step-mother +to the troublesome young servant, Rebecca. Pike had totally disappeared. + +Mrs. Jones, partly through fright, partly in anger arising from a +long-standing grievance, avowed the truth boldly: she had been listening +at the parlour-shutters ever since she went out of the house ten minutes +ago, and had been set upon by that wolf Pike. + +"Set upon!" exclaimed the clerk, looking swiftly in all directions for +the offender. + +"I don't know what else you can call it, when a highway robber--a +murderer, if all tales be true--steals round upon you without warning, +and glares his eyes into yours," shrieked Mrs. Jones wrathfully. "And if +he wasn't barefoot, Gum, my eyes strangely deceived me. I'd have you and +Nancy take care of your throats." + +She turned into the house, to the best parlour, where the clerk's wife +was sitting with a visitor, Mirrable. Mrs. Gum, when she found what the +commotion had been about, gave a sharp cry of terror, and shook from head +to foot. + +"On our premises! Close to our house! That dreadful man! Oh, Lydia, don't +you think you were mistaken?" + +"Mistaken!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "That wild face isn't one to be +mistaken: I should like to see its fellow in Calne. Why Lord Hartledon +don't have him taken up on suspicion of that murder, is odd to me." + +"You'd better hold your tongue about that suspicion," interposed +Mirrable. "I have cautioned you before, _I_ shouldn't like to breathe +a word against a desperate man; I should go about in fear that he might +hear of it, and revenge himself." + +In came the clerk. "I don't see a sign of any one about," he said; "and +I'm sure whoever it was could not have had time to get away. You must +have been mistaken, Mrs. Jones." + +"Mistaken in what, pray?" + +"That any man was there. You got confused, and fancied it, perhaps. As to +Pike, he'd never dare come on my premises, whether by night or day. What +were you doing at the window?" + +"Listening," defiantly replied Mrs. Jones. "And now I'll just tell out +what I've had in my head this long while, Mr. Gum, and know the reason of +Nancy's slighting me in the way she does. What secret has she and Mary +Mirrable got between them?" + +"Secret?" repeated the clerk, whilst his wife gave a faint cry, and +Mirrable turned her calm face on Mrs. Jones. "Have they a secret?" + +"Yes, they have," raved Mrs. Jones, giving vent to her long pent-up +emotion. "If they haven't, I'm blind and deaf. If I have come into your +house once during the past year and found Mrs. Mirrable in it, and the +two sitting and whispering, I've come ten times. This evening I came in +at dusk; I turned the handle of the door and peeped into the best +parlour, and there they were, nose and knees together, starting away +from each other as soon as they saw me, Nance giving one of her faint +cries, and the two making believe to have been talking of the weather. +It's always so. And I want to know what secret they have got hold of, and +whether I'm poison, that I can't be trusted with it." + +Jabez Gum slowly turned his eyes on the two in question. His wife lifted +her hands in deprecation at the idea that she should have a secret: +Mirrable was laughing. + +"Nancy's secret to-night, when you interrupted us, was telling me of a +dream she had regarding Lord Hartledon, and of how she mistook Mr. Elster +for him the morning he came down," cried the latter. "And if you have +really been listening at the shutters since you went out, Mrs. Jones, you +should by this time know how to pickle walnuts in the new way: for I +declare that is all our conversation has been about since. You always +were suspicious, you know, and you always will be." + +"Look here, Mrs. Jones," said the clerk, decisively; "I don't choose to +have my shutters listened at: it might give the house a bad name, for +quarrelling, or something of that sort. So I'll trouble you not to repeat +what you have done to-night, or I shall forbid your coming here. A +secret, indeed!" + +"Yes, a secret!" persisted Mrs. Jones. "And if I don't come at what it is +one of these days, my name's not Lydia Jones. And I'll tell you why. It +strikes me--I may be wrong--but it strikes me it concerns me and my +husband and my household, which some folks are ever ready to interfere +with. I'll take myself off now; and I would recommend you, as a parting +warning, to denounce Pike to the police for an attempt at housebreaking, +before you're both murdered in your bed. That'll be the end on't." + +She went away, and Clerk Gum wished he could denounce _her_ to the +police. Mirrable laughed again; and Mrs. Gum, cowardly and timid, fell +back in her chair as one seized with ague. + +Beyond giving an occasional dole to Mrs. Jones for her children--and +to tell the truth, she clothed them all, or they would have gone in +rags--Mirrable had shaken her cousin off long ago: which of course did +not tend to soothe the naturally jealous spirit of Mrs. Jones. At +Hartledon House she was not welcomed, and could not go there; but she +watched for the visits of Mirrable at the clerk's, and was certain to +intrude on those occasions. + +"I'll find it out!" she repeated to herself, as she went storming through +the garden-gate; "I'll find it out. And as to that poacher, he'd better +bring his black face near mine again!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE WAGER BOATS. + + +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 so; but when only a boat's +length from the winning-post another shot past him, and won by half a +length. It was the young Oxonian, Mr. Shute--though indeed it does not +much matter who it was, save that it was not Lord Hartledon. + +"Strike your colours, ladies, you that sport the crimson and purple!" +called out a laughing voice from one of the skiffs. "Oxford blue wins." + +Lord Hartledon arrived last. He did not get up for some minutes after the +rest were in. In short, he was distanced. + +"Hart has hurt his arm as well as his foot," observed one of the others, +as he came alongside. "That's why he got distanced." + +"No, it was not," dissented Lord Hartledon, looking up from his skiff at +the crowd of fair faces bent down upon him. "My arm is all right; it only +gave me a few twinges when I first started. My oar fouled, and I could +not get right again; so, finding I had lost too much ground, I gave up +the contest. Anne, had I known I should disgrace my colours, I would not +have given them to _you_." + +"Miss Ashton loses, and Maude wins!" cried the countess-dowager, +executing a little dance of triumph. "Maude is the only one who wears +the Oxford blue." + +It was true. The young Oxonian was a retiring and timid man, and none had +voluntarily assumed his colours. But no one heeded the countess-dowager. + +"You are like a child, Hartledon, denying that your arm's damaged!" +exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I know it is: I could see it by the way you +struck your oar all along." + +What feeling is it in man that prompts him to disclaim physical +pain?--make light of personal injury? Lord Hartledon's ankle was +swelling, at the bottom of the boat; and without the slightest doubt +his arm _was_ paining him, although perhaps at the moment not very +considerably. But he maintained his own assertions, and protested his +arm was as sound as the best arm present. "I could go over the work again +with pleasure," cried he. + +"Nonsense, Hart! You could not." + +"And I _will_ go over it," he added, warming with the opposition. "Who'll +try his strength with me? There's plenty of time before dinner." + +"I will," eagerly spoke young Carteret, who had been, as was remarked, +one of those on land, and was wild to be handling the oars. "If Dawkes +will let me have his skiff, I'll bet you ten to five you are distanced +again, Hartledon." + +Perhaps Lord Hartledon had not thought his challenge would be taken +seriously. But when he saw the eager, joyous look of the boy Carteret--he +was not yet nineteen--the flushed pleasure of the beardless face, he +would not have retracted it for the world. He was just as good-natured +as Percival Elster. + +"Dawkes will let you have his skiff, Carteret." + +Captain Dawkes was exceedingly glad to be rid of it. Good boatman though +he was, he rarely cared to spend his strength superfluously, when nothing +was to be gained by it, and had no fancy to row his skiff back to its +moorings, as most of the others were already doing with theirs. He leaped +out. + +"Any one but you, Hartledon, would be glad to come out of that +tilting thing, and enjoy a rest, and get your face cool," cried the +countess-dowager. + +"I dare say they might, ma'am. I'm afraid I am given to obstinacy; always +was. Be quick, Carteret." + +Mr. Carteret was hastily stripping himself of his coat, and any odds and +ends of attire he deemed superfluous. "One moment, Hartledon; only one +moment," came the joyous response. + +"And you'll come home with your arm and your ankle like your colours, +Hartledon--crimson and purple," screamed the dowager. "And you'll be laid +up, and go on perhaps to locked jaw; and then you'll expect me to nurse +you!" + +"I shall expect nothing of the sort, ma'am, I pledge you my word; I'll +nurse myself. All ready, Carteret?" + +"All ready. Same point as before, Hart?" + +"Same point: round the boat and home again." + +"And it's ten sovs. to five, Hart?" + +"All right. You'll lose, Carteret." + +Carteret laughed. He saw the five sovereigns as surely in his possession +as he saw the sculls in his hands. There was no trouble with the start +this time, and they were off at once. + +Lord Hartledon took the lead. He was spurring his strength to the +uttermost: perhaps out of bravado; that he might show them nothing was +the matter with his arm. But Mr. Carteret gained on him; and as they +turned the point and went out of sight, the young man's boat was the +foremost. + +The race had been kept--as the sporting men amongst them styled it--dark. +Not an inkling of it had been suffered to get abroad, or, as Lord +Hartledon had observed, they should have the banks swarming. The +consequence was, that not more than half-a-dozen curious idlers had +assembled: those were on the opposite side, and had now gone down with +the boats to Calne. No spectators, either on the river or the shore, +attended this lesser contest: Lord Hartledon and Mr. Carteret had it all +to themselves. + +And meanwhile, during the time Lord Hartledon had remained at rest in his +skiff under the winning flag, Percival Elster never addressed one word to +him. There he stood, on the edge of the bank; but not a syllable spoke +he, good, bad, or indifferent. + +Miss Ashton was looking for her brother, and might just as well have +looked for a needle in a bottle of hay. Arthur was off somewhere. + +"You need not go home yet, Anne," said Val. + +"I must. I have to dress for dinner. It is all to be very smart to-night, +you know," she said, with a merry laugh. + +"With Shute in the post of honour. Who'd have thought that awkward, quiet +fellow would win? I will see you home, Anne, if you must go." + +Miss Ashton coloured vividly with embarrassment. In the present state of +affairs, she did not know whether that might be permitted: poor Val was +out of favour at the Rectory. He detected the feeling, and it tended to +vex him more and more. + +"Nonsense, Anne! The veto has not yet been interposed, and they can't +kill you for allowing my escort. Stay here if you like: if you go, I +shall see you home." + +It was quite imperative that she should go, for dinner at Hartledon was +that evening fixed for seven o'clock, and there would be little enough +time to dress and return again. They set out, walking side by side. Anne +told him of what Lord Hartledon had said to her that day; and Val +coloured with shame at the sullenness he had displayed, and his heart +went into a glow of repentance. Had he met his brother then, he had +clasped his hand, and poured forth his contrition. + +He met some one else instead, almost immediately. It was Dr. Ashton, +coming for Anne. Percival was not wanted now: was not invited to continue +his escort. A cold, civil word or two passed, and Val struck across the +grove into the high-road, and returned to Hartledon. + +He was about to turn in at the lodge-gates with his usual greeting to +Mrs. Capper when his attention was caught by a figure coming down the +avenue. A man in a long coat, his face ornamented with red whiskers. It +required no second glance for recognition. Whiskers and coat proclaimed +their owner at once; and if ever Val Elster's heart leaped into his +mouth, it certainly leaped then. + +He went on, instead of turning in; quietly, as if he were only a stranger +enjoying an evening stroll up the road; but the moment he was past the +gates he set off at breakneck speed, not heeding where. That the man was +there to arrest him, he felt as sure as he had ever felt of anything in +this world; and in his perplexity he began accusing every one of +treachery, Lord Hartledon and Pike in particular. + +The river at the back in this part took a sweeping curve, the road kept +straight; so that to arrive at a given point, the one would be more +quickly traversed than the other. On and on went Val Elster; and as soon +as an opening allowed, he struck into the brushwood on the right, +intending to make his way back by the river to Hartledon. + +But not yet. Not until the shades of night should fall on the earth: +he would have a better chance of getting away from that shark in the +darkness than by daylight. He propped his back against a tree and waited, +hating himself all the time for his cowardice. With all his scrapes and +dilemmas, he had never been reduced to this sort of hiding. + +And his pursuer had struck into the wood after him, passed straight +through it, though with some little doubt and difficulty, and was already +by the river-side, getting there just as Lord Hartledon was passing in +his skiff. Long as this may have seemed in telling, it took only a short +time to accomplish; still Lord Hartledon had not made quick way, or he +would have been further on his course in the race. + +Would the sun ever set?--daylight ever pass? Val thought _not_, in his +impatience; and he ventured out of his shelter very soon, and saw for his +reward--the long coat and red whiskers by the river-side, their owner +conversing with a man. Val went further away, keeping the direction of +the stream: the brushwood might no longer be safe. He did not think they +had seen him: the man he dreaded had his back to him, the other his face. +And that other was Pike. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +WAITING FOR DINNER. + + +Dinner at Hartledon had been ordered for seven o'clock. It was beyond +that hour when Dr. Ashton arrived, for he had been detained--a +clergyman's time is not always under his own control. Anne and Arthur +were with him, but not Mrs. Ashton. He came in, ready with an apology for +his tardiness, but found he need not offer it; neither Lord Hartledon nor +his brother having yet appeared. + +"Hartledon and that boy Carteret have not returned home yet," said the +countess-dowager, in her fiercest tones, for she liked her dinner more +than any other earthly thing, and could not brook being kept waiting for +it. "And when they do come, they'll keep us another half-hour dressing." + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon--they have come," interposed Captain +Dawkes. "Carteret was going into his room as I came out of mine." + +"Time they were," grumbled the dowager. "They were not in five minutes +ago, for I sent to ask." + +"Which of the two won the race?" inquired Lady Maude of Captain Dawkes. + +"I don't think Carteret did," he replied, laughing. "He seemed as sulky +as a bear, and growled out that there had been no race, for Hartledon had +played him a trick." + +"What did he mean?" + +"Goodness knows." + +"I hope Hartledon upset him," charitably interrupted the dowager. "A +ducking would do that boy good; he is too forward by half." + +There was more waiting. The countess-dowager flounced about in her pink +satin gown; but it did not bring the loiterers any the sooner. Lady +Maude--perverse still, but beautiful--talked in whispers to the hero of +the day, Mr. Shute; wearing a blue-silk robe and a blue wreath in her +hair. Anne, adhering to the colours of Lord Hartledon, though he had been +defeated, was in a rich, glistening white silk, with natural flowers, red +and purple, on its body, and the same in her hair. Her sweet face was +sunny again, her eyes were sparkling: a word dropped by Dr. Ashton had +given her a hope that, perhaps, Percival Elster might be forgiven +sometime. + +He was the first of the culprits to make his appearance. The dowager +attacked him of course. What did he mean by keeping dinner waiting? + +Val replied that he was late in coming home; he had been out. As to +keeping dinner waiting, it seemed that Lord Hartledon was doing that: +he didn't suppose they'd have waited for him. + +He spoke tartly, as if not on good terms with himself or the world. Anne +Ashton, near to whom he had drawn, looked up at him with a charming +smile. + +"Things may brighten, Percival," she softly breathed. + +"It's to be hoped they will," gloomily returned Val. "They look dark +enough just now." + +"What have you done to your face?" she whispered. + +"To my face? Nothing that I know of." + +"The forehead is red, as if it had been bruised, or slightly grazed." + +Val put his hand up to his forehead. "I did feel something when I washed +just now," he remarked slowly, as though doubting whether anything was +wrong or not. "It must have been done--when I--struck against that tree," +he added, apparently taxing his recollection. + +"How was that?" + +"I was running in the dusk, and did not notice the branch of a tree in my +way. It's nothing, Anne, and will soon go off." + +Mr. Carteret came in, looking just as Val Elster had done--out of sorts. +Questions were showered upon him as to the fate of the race; but the +dowager's voice was heard above all. + +"This is a pretty time to make your appearance, sir! Where's Lord +Hartledon?" + +"In his room, I suppose. Hartledon never came," he added in sulky tones, +as he turned from her to the rest. "I rowed on, and on, thinking how +nicely I was distancing him, and got down, the mischief knows where. +Miles, nearly, I must have gone." + +"But why did you pass the turning-point?" asked one. + +"There was no turning-point," returned Mr. Carteret; "some confounded +meddler must have unmoored the boat as soon as the first race was over, +and I, like an idiot, rowed on, looking for it. All at once it came into +my mind what a way I must have gone, and I turned and waited. And might +have waited till now," he added, "for Hart never came." + +"Then his arm must have failed him," exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I thought +it was all wrong." + +"It wasn't right, for I soon shot past him," returned young Carteret. +"But Hart knew the spot where the boat ought to have been, though I +didn't; what he did, I suppose, was to clear round it just as though it +had been there, and come in home again. It will be an awful shame if he +takes an unfair advantage of it, and claims the race." + +"Hartledon never took an unfair advantage in his life," spoke up Val +Elster, in clear, decisive tones. "You need not be afraid, Carteret. +I dare say his arm failed him." + +"Well, he might have hallooed when he found it failing, and not have +suffered me to row all that way for nothing," retorted young Carteret. +"Not a trace could I see of him as I came back; he had hastened home, +I expect, to shut himself up in his room with his damaged arm and foot." + +"I'll see what he's doing there," said Val. + +He went out; but returned immediately. + +"We are all under a mistake," was his greeting. "Hartledon has not +returned yet. His servant is in his room waiting for him." + +"Then what do you mean by telling stories?" demanded the +countess-dowager, turning sharply on Mr. Carteret. + +"Good Heavens, ma'am! you need not begin upon me!" returned young +Carteret. "I have told no stories. I said Hart let me go on, and never +came on himself; if that's a story, I'll swallow Dawkes's skiff and the +sculls too." + +"You said he was in his room. You know you did." + +"I said I supposed so. It's usual for a man to go there, I believe, to +get ready for dinner," added young Carteret, always ripe for a wordy war, +in his antipathy to the countess-dowager. + +"_You_ said he had come in;" and the angry woman faced round on Captain +Dawkes. "You saw them going into their rooms, you said. Which was it--you +did, or you didn't?" + +"I did see Carteret make his appearance; and assumed that Lord Hartledon +had gone on to his room," replied the captain, suppressing a laugh. "I am +sorry to have misled your ladyship. I dare say Hart was about the house +somewhere." + +"Then why doesn't he appear?" stormed the dowager. "Pretty behaviour +this, to keep us all waiting dinner. I shall tell him so. Val Elster, +ring for Hedges." + +Val rang the bell. "Has Lord Hartledon come in?" he asked, when the +butler appeared. + +"No, sir." + +"And dinner's spoiling, isn't it, Hedges?" broke in the dowager. + +"It won't be any the better for waiting, my lady." + +"No. I must exercise my privilege and order it served. At once, Hedges, +do you hear? If Hartledon grumbles, I shall tell him it serves him +right." + +"But where can Hartledon be?" cried Captain Dawkes. + +"That's what I am wondering," said Val. "He can't be on the river all +this time; Carteret would have seen him in coming home." + +A strangely grave shade, looking almost like a prevision of evil, arose +to Dr. Ashton's face. "I trust nothing has happened to him," he +exclaimed. "Where did you part company with him, Mr. Carteret?" + +"That's more than I can tell you, sir. You must have seen--at least--no, +you were not there; but those looking on must have seen me get ahead of +him within view of the starting-point; soon after that I lost sight of +him. The river winds, you know; and of course I thought he was coming on +behind me. Very daft of me, not to divine that the boat had been +removed!" + +"Do you think he passed the mill?" + +"The mill?" + +"That place where the river forms what might almost be called a miniature +harbour. A mill is built there which the stream serves. You could not +fail to see it." + +"I remember now. Yes, I saw the mill. What of it?" + +"Did Lord Hartledon pass it?" + +"How should I know!" cried the boy. "I had lost sight of him ages before +that." + +"The current is extremely rapid there," observed Dr. Ashton. "If he found +his arm failing, he might strike down to the mill and land there; and his +ankle may be keeping him a prisoner." + +"And that's what it is!" exclaimed Val. + +They were crossing the hall to the dining-room. Without the slightest +ceremony, the countess-dowager pushed herself foremost and advanced to +the head of the table. + +"I shall occupy this seat in my nephew's absence," said she. "Dr. Ashton, +will you be so good as to take the foot? There's no one else." + +"Nay, madam; though Lord Hartledon may not be here, Mr. Elster is." + +She had actually forgotten Val; and would have liked to ignore him now +that he was recalled to remembrance; but that might not be. As much +contempt as could be expressed in her face was there, as she turned her +snub nose and small round eyes defiantly upon that unoffending younger +brother. + +"I was going to request you to take it, sir," said Percival, in low +tones, to Dr. Ashton. "I shall go off in the pony-carriage for Edward. +He must think we are neglecting him." + +"Very well. I hate these rowing matches," heartily added the Rector. + +"What a curious old fish that parson must be!" ejaculated young Carteret +to his next neighbour. "He says he doesn't like boating." + +It happened to be Arthur Ashton, and the lad's brow lowered. "You are +speaking of my father," he said. "But I'll tell you why he does not like +it. He had a brother once, a good deal older than himself; they had no +father, and Arthur--that was the elder--was very fond of him: there were +only those two. He took him out in a boat one day, and there was an +accident: the eldest was drowned, the little one saved. Do you wonder +that my father has dreaded boating ever since? He seems to have the same +sort of dread of it that a child who has been frightened by its nurse has +of the dark." + +"By Jove! that was a go, though!" was the sympathising comment of Mr. +Carteret. + +The doctor said grace, and dinner proceeded. It was not half over when +Mr. Elster came in, in his light overcoat. Walking straight up to the +table, he stood by it, his face wearing a blank, perplexed look. A +momentary silence of expectation, and then many tongues spoke together. + +"Where's your brother? Where's Lord Hartledon? Has he not come?" + +"I don't know where he is," answered Val. "I was in hopes he had reached +home before me, but I find he has not. I can't make it out at all." + +"Did he land at the mill?" asked Dr. Ashton. + +"Yes, he must have done so, for the skiff is moored there." + +"Then he's all right," cried the doctor; and there was a strangely-marked +sound of relief in his tones. + +"Oh, he is all right," confidently asserted Percival. "The only question +is, where he can be. The miller was out this afternoon, and left his +place locked up; so that Hartledon could not get in, and had nothing for +it but to start home with his lameness, or sit down on the bank until +some one found him." + +"He must have set off to walk." + +"I should think so. But where has he walked to?" added Val. "I drove +slowly home, looking on either side of the road, but could see nothing of +him." + +"What should bring him on the side of the road?" demanded the dowager. +"Do you think he would turn tramp, and take his seat on a heap of stones? +Where do you get your ideas from?" + +"From common sense, ma'am. If he set out to walk, and his foot failed him +half-way, there'd be nothing for it but to sit down and wait. But he is +_not_ on the road: that is the curious part of the business." + +"Would he come the other way?" + +"Hardly. It is so much further by the river than by the road." + +"You may depend upon it that is what he has done," said Dr. Ashton. "He +might think he should meet some of you that way, and get an arm to help +him." + +"I declare I never thought of that," exclaimed Val, his face brightening. +"There he is, no doubt; perched somewhere between this and the mill, like +patience on a monument, unable to put foot to the ground." + +He turned away. Some of the men offered to accompany him: but he declined +their help, and begged them to go on with their dinner, saying he would +take sufficient servants with him, even though they had to carry +Hartledon. + +So Mr. Elster went, taking servants and lanterns; for in some parts of +this road the trees overhung, and rendered it dark. But they could not +find Lord Hartledon. They searched, and shouted, and waved their +lanterns: all in vain. Very much perplexed indeed did Val Elster look +when he got back again. + +"Where in the world can he have gone to?" angrily questioned the +countess-dowager; and she glared from her seat at the head of the table +on the offender Val, as she asked it. "I must say all this is most +unseemly, and Hartledon ought to be brought to his senses for causing it. +I suppose he has taken himself off to a surgeon's." + +It was possible, but unlikely, as none knew better than Val Elster. To +get to the surgeon's he would have to pass his own house, and would be +more likely to go in, and send for Mr. Hillary, than walk on with a +disabled foot. Besides, if he had gone to the surgeon's, he would not +stay there all this time. "I don't know what to do," said Percival +Elster; and there was the same blank, perplexed look on his face that was +observed the first time he came in. "I don't much like the appearance of +things." + +"Why, you don't think anything's wrong with him!" exclaimed young +Carteret, starting-up with an alarmed face. "He's safe to turn up, isn't +he?" + +"Of course he will turn up," answered Val, in a dreamy tone. "Only this +uncertainty, as to where to look for him, is not pleasant." + +Dr. Ashton motioned Val to his side. "Are you fearing an accident?" he +asked in low tones. + +"No, sir." + +"I am. That current by the mill is so fearfully strong; and if your +brother had not the use of his one arm--and the boat was drawn onwards, +beyond his control--and upset--" + +Dr. Ashton paused. Val Elster looked rather surprised. + +"How could it upset, sir? The skiffs are as safe as this floor. I don't +fear that in the least: what I do fear is that Edward may be in some +out-of-the-way nook, insensible from pain, and won't be found until +daylight. Fancy, a whole night out of doors, in that state! He might be +half-dead with cold by the morning." + +Dr. Ashton shook his head in dissent. His dislike of boating seemed just +now to be rising into horror. + +"What are you going to do now, Elster?" inquired Captain Dawkes. + +"Go to the mill again, I think, and find out if any one saw Hartledon +leave the skiff, and which way he took. One of the servants can run down +to Hillary's the while." + +Dr. Ashton rose, bowing for permission to Lady Kirton; and the gentlemen +with one accord rose with him, the same purpose in the mind of all--that +of more effectually scouring the ground between the mill and Hartledon. +The countess-dowager felt that she should like to box the ears of every +one of them. The idea of danger in connection with Lord Hartledon had +not yet penetrated to her brain. + +At this moment, before they had left the room, there arose a strange wild +sound from without--almost an unearthly sound--that seemed to come from +several voices, and to be bearing round the house from the river-path. +Mrs. O'Moore put down her knife and fork, and rose up with a startled +cry. + +"There's nothing to be alarmed at," said the dowager. "It is those Irish +harvesters. I know their horrid voices, and dare say they are riotously +drunk. Hartledon ought to put them in prison for it." + +The sounds died away into silence. Mrs. O'Moore took her hands from her +eyes, where they had been pressed. "Don't you know what it is, Lady +Kirton? It is the Irish death-wail!" + +It rose again, louder than before, for those from whom it came were +nearing the house--a horribly wailing sound, ringing out in the silence +of the night. Mrs. O'Moore crouched into her chair again, and hid her +terrified face. She was not Irish, and had never heard that sound but +once, and that was when her child died. + +"She is right," cried her husband, the O'Moore; "that is the death-wail. +Hark! it is for a chieftain; they mourn the loss of one high in the land. +And--they are coming here! Oh, Elster! can DEATH have overtaken your +brother?" + +The gentlemen had stood spell-bound, listening to the sound, their faces +a mixture of surprise and credulity. At the words they rushed out with +one accord, and the women stole after them with trembling steps and +blanched lips. + +"If ever I saw such behaviour in all my existence!" irascibly spoke the +countess-dowager, who was left alone in her glory. "The death-wail, +indeed! The woman's a fool. I'll get those Irishmen transported, if +I can." + +In the hall the servants were gathered, cowering almost as the ladies +did. Their master had flown down the hall-steps, and the labourers were +coming steadily up to it, bearing something in procession. Dr. Ashton +came back as quickly as he had gone out, extending his arms before him. + +"Ladies, I pray you go in," he urged, in strange agitation. "You must not +meet these--these Irishmen. Go back to the dining-room, I entreat you, +and remain in it." + +But the curiosity of women--who can suppress it? They were as though they +heard not, and were pressing on to the door, when Val Elster dashed in +with a white face. + +"Back, all of you! You must not stay here. This is no place or sight for +you. Anne," he added, seizing Miss Ashton's hand in peremptory entreaty, +"you at least know how to be calm. Get them away, and keep them out of +the hall." + +"Tell me the worst," she implored. "I will indeed try to be calm. Who is +it those men are bringing here?" + +"My dear brother--my dead brother. Madam," he continued to the +countess-dowager, who had now come out, dinner-napkin in hand, her curls +all awry, "you must not come here. Go back to the dining-room, all of +you." + +"Not come here! Go back to the dining-room!" echoed the outraged dowager. +"Don't take quite so much upon yourself, Val Elster. The house is Lord +Hartledon's, and I am a free agent in it." + +A shriek--an agonized shriek--broke from Lady Maude. In her suspense she +had stolen out unperceived, and lifted the covering of the rude bier, now +resting on the steps. The rays of the hall-lamp fell on the face, and +Maude, in her anguish, with a succession of hysterical sobs, came +shivering back to sink down at her mother's feet. + +"Oh, my love--my love! Dead! dead!" + +The only one who heard the words was Anne Ashton. The countess-dowager +caught the last. + +"Who is dead? What is this mystery?" she asked, unceremoniously lifting +her satin dress, with the intention of going out to see, and her head +began to nod--perhaps with apprehension--as if she had the palsy. "You +want to force us away. No, thank you; not until I've come to the bottom +of this." + +"Let us tell them," cried young Carteret, in his boyish impulse, "and +then perhaps they will go. An accident has happened to Lord Hartledon, +ma'am, and these men have brought him home." + +"He--_he's_ not dead?" asked the old woman, in changed tones. + +Alas! poor Lord Hartledon was indeed dead. The Irish labourers, in +passing near the mill, had detected the body in the water; rescued it, +and brought it home. + +The countess-dowager's grief commenced rather turbulently. She talked and +shrieked, and danced round, exactly as if she had been a wild Indian. It +was so intensely ludicrous, that the occupants of the hall gazed in +silence. + +"Here to-day, and gone to-morrow!" she sobbed. "Oh--o--o--o--o--o--oh!" + +"Nay," cried young Carteret, "here to-day, and gone _now_. Poor fellow! +it is awful." + +"And you have done it!" she cried, turning her grief upon the astonished +boy. "You! What business had you to allure him off again in that +miserable boat, once he had got home?" + +"Don't trample me down, please," he indignantly returned; "I am as cut up +as you can be. Hedges, hadn't you better get Lady Kirton's maid here? I +think she is going mad." + +"And now the house is without a master," she bemoaned, returning to her +own griefs and troubles, "and I have all the arrangements thrown upon +myself." + +"The house is not without a master," said young Carteret, who seemed +inclined to have the last word. "If one master has gone from it, poor +fellow! there's another to replace him; and he is at your elbow now." + +He at her elbow was Val Elster. Lady Kirton gathered in the sense of the +words, and gave a cry; a prolonged cry of absolute dismay. + +"_He_ can't be its master." + +"I should say he _is_, ma'am. At any rate he is now Lord Hartledon." + +She looked from one to the other in helpless doubt. It was a contingency +that had never so much as occurred to her. Had she wanted confirmation, +the next moment brought it to her from the lips of the butler. + +"Hedges," called out Percival sternly, in his embarrassment and grief, +"open the dining-room door. We _must_ get the hall cleared." + +"The door is open, my lord." + +"_He_ Lord Hartledon!" shrieked the countess-dowager, "why, I was going +to recommend his brother to ship him off to Canada for life." + +It was altogether an unseemly scene at such a time. But almost everything +the Countess-Dowager of Kirton did was unseemly. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MR. PIKE'S VISIT. + + +Percival Elster was in truth Earl of Hartledon. By one of those +unexpected calamities, which are often inexplicable--and which most +certainly was so as yet in the present instance--a promising young life +had been snapped asunder, and another reigned in his place. In one short +hour Val Elster, who had scarcely cross or coin to call his own, had been +going in danger of arrest from one moment to another, had become a peer +of the realm and a man of wealth. + +As they laid the body down in a small room opening from the hall, and his +late companions and guests crowded around in awe-struck silence, there +was one amidst them who could not control his grief and emotion. It was +poor Val. Pushing aside the others, never heeding them in his bitter +sorrow, he burst into passionate sobs as he leaned over the corpse. And +none of them thought the worse of Val for it. + +"Oh, Percival! how did it happen?" + +The speaker was Dr. Ashton. Little less affected himself, he clasped the +young man's hand in token of heartfelt sympathy. + +"I cannot think _how_ it could have happened," replied Percival, when +able to control his feelings sufficiently to speak. "It seems awfully +strange to me--mysteriously so." + +"If he found himself going wrong, why didn't he shout out?" asked young +Carteret, with a rueful face. "I couldn't have helped hearing him." + +It was a question that was passing through the minds of all; was being +whispered about. How could it have happened? The body presented the usual +appearance of death from drowning; but close to the left temple was a +wound, and the face was otherwise disfigured. It must have been done, +they thought, by coming into contact with something or other in the +water; perhaps the skiff itself. Arm and ankle were both much swollen. + +Nothing was certainly known as yet of Lord Hartledon from the time Mr. +Carteret parted company with him, to the time when the body was found. It +appeared that these Irish labourers were going home from their work, +singing as they went, their road lying past the mill, when they were +spoken to by the miller's boy. He stood on the species of estrade which +the miller had placed there for his own convenience, bending down as far +as his young head and shoulders could reach, and peering into the water +attentively. "I think I see some'at in the stream," quoth he, and the men +stopped; and after a short time, proceeded to search. It proved to be the +dead body of Lord Hartledon, caught amongst the reeds. + +It was rather a curious coincidence that Percival Elster and his servants +in the last search should have heard the voices of the labourers singing +in the distance. But they were too far off on their return to Hartledon +to be within hearing when the men found the body. + +The news spread; people came up from far and near, and Hartledon was +besieged. Mr. Hillary, the surgeon, gave it as his opinion that the wound +on the temple, no doubt caused before death, had rendered Lord Hartledon +insensible, and unable to extricate himself from the water. The mill and +cottage were built on what might be called an arm of the river. Lord +Hartledon had no business there at all; but the current was very strong; +and if, as was too probable, he had become almost disabled, he might have +drifted to it without being able to help himself; or he might have been +making for it, intending to land and rest in the cottage until help could +be summoned to convey him home. How he got into the water was not known. +Once in the water, the blow was easy enough to receive; he might have +struck against the estrade. + +There is almost sure to be some miserable coincidence in these cases to +render them doubly unfortunate. For three weeks past, as the miller +testified--a respectable man named Floyd--his mill had not been deserted; +some one, man, boy, or woman, had always been there. On this afternoon it +was closed, mill and cottage too, and all were away. What might have been +simply a slight accident, had help been at hand, had terminated in an +awful death for the want of it. + +It was eleven o'clock before anything like order was restored at +Hartledon, and the house left in quiet. The last person to quit it was +Dr. Ashton. Hedges, the butler, had been showing him out, and was +standing for a minute on the steps looking after him, and perhaps to +cool, with a little fresh air, his perplexed brow--for the man was a +faithful retainer, and the affair had shocked him in no common +degree--when he was accosted by Pike, who emerged stealthily from behind +one of the outer pillars, where he seemed to have been sheltering. + +"Why, what have you been doing there?" exclaimed the butler. + +"Mr. Hedges, I've been waiting here--hiding, if you like to call it so," +was the answer; and it should be observed that the man's manner, quite +unlike his usual rough, devil-may-care tone, was characterized by +singular respect and earnestness. To hear him, and not see him, you might +think you were listening to some staid and respectable friend of the +family. "I have been standing there this hour past, keeping behind the +pillar while other folk went in and out, and waiting my time to speak to +you." + +"To me?" repeated Hedges. + +"Yes, sir. I want you to grant me a favour; and I hope you'll pardon my +boldness in asking it." + +Hedges did not know what to make of this. It was the first time he +had enjoyed the honour of a personal interview with Mr. Pike; and the +contrast between that gentleman's popular reputation and his present tone +and manner struck the butler as exceedingly singular. But that the butler +was in a very softened mood, feeling full of subdued charity towards all +the world, he might not have condescended to parley with the man. + +"What is the favour?" he inquired. + +"I want you to let me in to see the poor young earl--what's left of him." + +"Let you in to see the earl!" echoed Hedges in surprise. "I never heard +such a bold request." + +"It is bold. I've already said so, and asked you to pardon it." + +"What can you want that for? It can't be for nothing but curiosity; +and--" + +"It's not curiosity," interrupted Pike, with an emphasis that told upon +his hearer. "I have a different motive, sir; and a good motive. If I were +at liberty to tell it--which I'm not--you'd let me in without another +word. Lots of people have been seeing him, I suppose." + +"Indeed they have not. Why should they? It is a bold thing for _you_ to +come and ask it." + +"Did he come by his death fairly?" whispered the man. + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed the butler, stepping back aghast. "I don't +think you know what you are talking about. Who would harm Lord +Hartledon?" + +"Let me see him," implored the man. "It can't hurt him or anybody else. +Only just for a minute, sir, in your presence. And if it's ever in my +power to do you a good turn, Mr. Hedges, I'll do it. It doesn't seem +likely now; but the mouse gnawed the lion's net, you know, and set him +free." + +Whether it was the strange impressiveness with which the request was +proffered, or that the softened mood of Hedges rendered him incapable of +contention, certain it was that he granted it; and most likely would +wonder at himself for it all his after-life. Crossing the hall with +silent tread, and taking up a candle as he went, he led the way to the +room; Mr. Pike stepping after him with a tread equally silent. + +"Take your hat off," peremptorily whispered the butler; for that worthy +had entered the room with it on. "Is that the way to--" + +"Hedges!" + +Hedges was struck with consternation at the call, for it was that of his +new master. He had not bargained for this; supposing that he had gone to +his room for the night. However he might have been foolishly won over to +accede to the man's strange request, it was not to be supposed it would +be approved of by Lord Hartledon. The butler hesitated. He did not care +to betray Pike, neither did he care to leave Pike alone. + +"Hedges!" came the call again, louder and quicker. + +"Yes, sir--my lord?" and Hedges squeezed out at the door without opening +it much--which was rather a difficulty, for he was a portly man, with a +red, honest sort of face--leaving Pike and the light inside. Lord +Hartledon--as we must unfortunately call him now--was standing in the +hall. + +"Has Dr. Ashton gone?" + +"Yes, my lord." + +"Did he leave that address?" + +Hedges knew to what his master alluded: an address that was wanted in +connection with certain official proceedings that must now take place. +Hedges replied that Dr. Ashton had not left it with him. + +"Then he must have forgotten it. He said he would write it down in +pencil. Send over to the Rectory the first thing in the morning. And, +Hedges--" + +At this moment a slight noise was heard within the room like the sound of +an extinguisher falling; as, in fact, it was. Lord Hartledon turned +towards it. + +"Who is there, Hedges?" + +"I--it's no one in particular, sir--my lord." + +What with the butler's bewilderment on the sudden change of masters, and +what with his consciousness of the presence of his visitor, he was +unusually confused. Lord Hartledon noticed it. It instantly occurred to +him that one of the ladies, or perhaps one of the women-servants, had +been admitted to the room; and he did not consider it a proper sight for +any of them. + +"Who is it?" he demanded, somewhat peremptorily. + +So Hedges had to confess what had taken place, and that he had allowed +the man to enter. + +"Pike! Why, what can he want?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon in surprise. And +he turned to the room. + +The moment the butler left him alone Mr. Pike's first proceeding had been +to cover his head again with his wide-awake, which he had evidently +removed with reluctance, and might have refused to remove at all had it +been consistent with policy; his second was to snatch up the candle, bend +over the dead face, and examine it minutely both with eye and hand. + +"There _is_ a wound, then, and it's true what they are saying. I thought +it might have been gossip," he muttered, as he pushed the soft dark hair +from the temple. "Any more suspicious marks?" he resumed, taking a rapid +view of the hands and head. "No; nothing but what he'd be likely to get +in the water: but--I'll swear _that_ might have been the blow of a human +hand. 'Twould stun, if it wouldn't kill; and then, held under the +water--" + +At this moment Mr. Pike and his comments were interrupted, and he drew +back from the table on which the body was lying; but not before Lord +Hartledon had seen him touching the face of the dead. + +"What are you doing?" came the stern demand. + +"I wasn't harming him," was the answer; and Mr. Pike seemed to have +suddenly returned to his roughness. "It's a nasty accident to have +happened; and I don't like _this_." + +He pointed to the temple as he spoke. Lord Hartledon's usually +good-natured brow--at present a brow of deep sorrow--contracted +with displeasure. + +"It is an awful accident," he replied. "But I asked what you were doing +here?" + +"I thought I'd like to look upon him, sir; and the butler let me in. I +wish I'd been a bit nearer the place at the time: I'd have saved him, or +got drowned myself. Not much fear of that, though. I'm a rat for the +water. Was that done fairly?" pointing again to the temple. + +"What do you mean?" exclaimed Val. + +"Well--it might be, or it might not. One who has led the roving life I +have, and been in all sorts of scenes, bred in the slums of London too, +looks on the suspicious side of these things. And there mostly is one in +all of 'em." + +Val was moved to anger. "How dare you hint at so infamous a suspicion, +Pike? If--" + +"No offence, my lord," interrupted Pike--"and it's my lord that you are +now. Thoughts may be free in this room; but I am not going to spread +suspicion outside. I say, though that _might_ have been an accident, it +might have been done by an enemy." + +"Did you do it?" retorted Lord Hartledon in his displeasure. + +Pike gave a short laugh. + +"I did not. I had no cause to harm him. What I'm thinking was, whether +anybody else had. He was mistaken for another yesterday," continued Pike, +dropping his voice. "Some men in his lordship's place might have showed +fight then: even blows." + +Percival made no immediate rejoinder. He was gazing at Pike just as +fixedly as the latter gazed at him. Did the man wish to insinuate that +the unwelcome visitor had again mistaken the one brother for the other, +and the result had been a struggle between them, ending in this? The idea +rushed into his mind, and a dark flush overspread his face. + +"You have no grounds for thinking that man--you know who I mean--attacked +my brother a second time?" + +"No, I have no grounds for it," shortly answered Pike. + +"He was near to the spot at the time; I saw him there," continued Lord +Hartledon, speaking apparently to himself; whilst the flush, painfully +red and dark, was increasing rather than diminishing. + +"I know you did," returned Pike. + +The tone grated on Lord Hartledon's ear. It implied that the man might +become familiar, if not checked; and, with all his good-natured +affability, he was not one to permit it; besides, his position was +changed, and he could not help feeling that it was. "Necessity makes us +acquainted with strange bedfellows," says the very true proverb; and what +might have been borne yesterday would not be borne to-day. + +"Let me understand you," he said, and there was a stern decision in his +tone and manner that surprised Pike. "Have you any reason whatever to +suspect that man of having injured, or attempted to injure my brother?" + +"_I_'ve not," answered Pike. "I never saw him nearer to the mill +yesterday than he was when he looked at us. I don't think he went nearer. +My lord, if I knew anything against the man, I'd tell it out, and be +glad. I hate the whole tribe. _He_ wouldn't make the mistake again," +added Pike, half-contemptuously. "He knew which was his lordship fast +enough to-day, and which wasn't." + +"Then what did you mean by insinuating that the blow on the temple was +the result of violence?" + +"I didn't say it was: I said it might have been. I don't know a thing, as +connected with this business, against a mortal soul. It's true, my lord." + +"Perhaps, then, you will leave this room," said Lord Hartledon. + +"I'm going. And many thanks to your lordship for not having turned me +from it before, and for letting me have my say. Thanks to _you_, sir," he +added, as he went out of the room and passed Hedges, who was waiting in +the hall. + +Hedges closed the door after him, and turned to receive a reprimand from +his new master. + +"Before you admit such men as that into the most sacred chamber the house +at present contains, you will ask my permission, Hedges." + +Hedges attempted to excuse himself. "He was so very earnest, my lord; he +declared to me he had a good motive in wanting to come in. At these +times, when one's heart is almost broken with a sudden blow, one is apt +to be soft and yielding. What with that feeling upon me, and what with +the fright he gave me--" + +"What fright did he give you?" interrupted Val. + +"Well, my lord, he--he asked me whether his lordship had come fairly by +his death." + +"How dare you repeat the insinuation?" broke forth Lord Hartledon, with +more temper than Hedges had ever seen him display. "The very idea is +absurd; it is wicked; it is unpardonable. My brother had not an enemy in +the world. Take care not to repeat it again. Do you hear?" + +He turned away from the astonished man, went into the room he had called +sacred, and closed the door. Hedges wondered whether the hitherto +sweet-tempered, easy-mannered younger brother had changed his nature +with his inheritance. + +As the days went on, few, if any, further particulars were elicited as to +the cause of accident. That the unfortunate Lord Hartledon had become +partly, if not wholly, disabled, so as to be incapable of managing even +the little skiff, had been drifted by the current towards the mills, and +there upset, was assumed by all to have been the true history of the +case. There appeared no reason to doubt that it was so. The inquest was +held on the Thursday. + +And on that same morning the new Lord Hartledon received a proof of the +kindness of his brother. A letter arrived from Messrs. Kedge and Reck, +addressed to Edward Earl of Hartledon. By it Percival found--there was no +one else to open it now--that his brother had written to them early on +the Tuesday morning, taking the debt upon himself; and they now wrote to +say they accepted his responsibility, and had withdrawn the officer from +Calne. Alas! Val Elster could have dismissed him himself now. + +He sat with bent head and drooping eyelids. None, save himself, knew how +bitter were the feelings within him, or the remorse that was his portion +for having behaved unkindly to his brother within the last few hours of +life. He had rebelled at his state of debt becoming known to Dr. Ashton; +he had feared to lose Anne: it seemed to him now, that he would live +under the doctor's displeasure for ever, would never see Anne again, +could he recall his brother. Oh, these unavailing regrets! Will they rise +up to face us at the Last Day? + +With a suppressed ejaculation that was like a cry of pain, as if he would +throw from him these reflections and could not, Lord Hartledon drew a +sheet of paper before him and wrote a note to the lawyers. He briefly +stated what had taken place; that his brother was dead from an accident, +and he had inherited, and should take speedy measures for the discharge +of any liabilities there might be against him: and he requested, as a +favour, that the letter written to them by his brother might be preserved +and returned to him: he should wish to keep it as the last lines his hand +had traced. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE INQUEST. + + +On this day, Thursday, the inquest was held. Most of the gay crowd +staying at Hartledon had taken flight; Mr. Carteret, and one or two more, +whose testimony might be wished for, remaining. The coroner and jury +assembled in the afternoon, in a large boarded apartment called the +steward's room. Lord Hartledon was present with Dr. Ashton and other +friends: they were naturally anxious to hear the evidence that could be +collected, and gather any light that might be thrown upon the accident. +The doors were not closed to the public, and a crowd, gentle and simple, +pressed in. + +The surgeon spoke to the supposed cause of death--drowning: the miller +spoke to his house and mill having been that afternoon shut up. He and +his wife went over in their spring-cart to Garchester, and left the place +locked up, he said. The coroner asked whether it was his custom to lock +up his place when he went out; he replied that it was, when they went out +together; but that event rarely happened. Upon his return at dusk, he +found the little skiff loose in the stream, and secured it. It was his +servant-boy, David Ripper, who called his attention to it first of all. +He saw nothing of Lord Hartledon, and had not very long secured the skiff +when Mr. Percival Elster came up in the pony-carriage, asking if his +brother was there. He looked at the skiff, and said it was the one his +lordship had been in. Mr. Elster said he supposed his brother was walking +home, and he should drive slowly back and look out for him. Later Mr. +Elster returned: he had several servants with him then and lanterns; they +had come out to look for Lord Hartledon, but could not find him. It was +only just after they had gone away again that the Irish harvest-men came +up and found the body. + +This was the substance of the miller's evidence; it was all he knew: +and the next witness called was the boy David Ripper, popularly styled +in the neighbourhood young Rip, in contradistinction to his father, a +day-labourer. He was an urchin of ten or twelve, with a red, round face; +quite ludicrous from its present expression of terrified consternation. +The coroner sharply inquired what he was frightened at; and the boy burst +into a roar by way of answer. He didn't know nothing, and hadn't seen +nothing, and it wasn't him that drowned his lordship; and he couldn't +tell more if they hanged him for it. + +The miller interposed. The boy was one of the idlest young vagabonds he +had ever had the luck to be troubled with; and he thought it exceedingly +likely he had been off that afternoon and not near the mill at all. He +had ordered him to take two sacks into Calne; but when he reached home he +found the sacks untouched, lying where he had placed them outside. Mr. +Ripper had no doubt been playing truant on his own account. + +"Where did you pass Tuesday afternoon during your master's absence?" +sternly demanded the coroner. "Take your hands from your face and answer +me, boy." + +David Ripper obeyed in the best manner he was capable of, considering his +agitation. "I dun know now where I was," he said. "I was about." + +"About where?" + +Mr. Ripper apparently could not say where. He thought he was "setting his +bird-trap" in the stubble-field; and he see a partridge, and watched +where it scudded to; but he wasn't nigh the mill the whole time. + +"Did you see anything of Lord Hartledon when he was in the skiff?" + +"I never saw him," he sobbed. "I wasn't nigh the mill at all, and never +saw him nor the skiff." + +"What time did you get back to the mill?" asked the coroner. + +He didn't know what time it was; his master and missis had come home. + +This was true, Mr. Floyd said. They had been back some little time before +Ripper showed himself. The first intimation he received of that truant's +presence was when he drew his attention to the loose skiff. + +"How came you to see the skiff?" sharply asked the coroner. + +Ripper spoke up with trembling lips. He was waiting outside after he came +up, and afraid to go in lest his master should beat him for not taking +the sacks, which went clean out of his mind, they did, and then he saw +the little boat; upon which he called out and told his master. + +"And it was also you who first saw the body in the water," observed the +coroner, regarding the reluctant witness curiously. "How came you to see +that? Were you looking for something of the sort?" + +The witness shivered. He didn't know how he come to see it. He was on the +strade, not looking for nothing, when he saw some'at dark among the +reeds, and told the harvesters when they come by. They said it was a man, +got him out, and then found it was his lordship. + +There was only one peculiarity about the boy's evidence--his manner. +All he said was feasible enough; indeed, what would be most likely to +happen under the circumstances. But whence arose his terror? Had he been +of a timid temperament, it might have been natural; but the miller had +spoken the truth--he was audacious and hardy. Only upon one or two, +however, did the manner leave any impression. Pike, who made one of the +crowd in the inquest-room, was one of these. His experience of human +nature was tolerably keen, and he felt sure the boy was keeping something +behind that he did not dare to tell. The coroner and jury were not so +clear-sighted, and dismissed him with the remark that he was a "little +fool." + +"Call George Gorton," said the coroner, looking at his notes. + +Very much to Lord Hartledon's surprise--perhaps somewhat to his +annoyance--the man answering to this name was the one who had originally +come to Calne on a special mission to himself. Some feeling caused him to +turn from the man whilst he gave his evidence, a thing easily done in the +crowded room. + +It appeared that amidst the stirring excitement in the neighbourhood on +the Tuesday night when the death became known, this stranger happened to +avow in the public-house which he made his quarters that he had seen Lord +Hartledon in his skiff just before the event must have happened. The +information was reported, and the man received a summons to appear before +the coroner. + +And it may be as well to remark now, that his second appearance was owing +to a little cowardice on his own part. He had felt perfectly satisfied at +the time with the promise given him by Lord Hartledon to see the debt +paid--given also in the presence of the Rector--and took his departure in +the train, just as Pike had subsequently told Mr. Elster. But ere he had +gone two stages on his journey, he began to think he might have been too +precipitate, and to ask himself whether his employers would not tell him +so when he appeared before them, unbacked by any guarantee from Lord +Hartledon; for this, by a strange oversight, he had omitted to ask for. +He halted at once, and went back by the next return train. The following +day, Tuesday, he spent looking after Lord Hartledon, but, as it happened, +did not meet him. + +The man--a dissipated young man, now that his hat was off--came forward +in his long coat, his red hair and whiskers. But it seemed that he had +really very little information to give. He was on the banks of the river +when Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff, and noticed how strangely he was +rowing, one arm apparently lying useless. What part of the river was +this, the coroner asked; and the witness avowed that he could not +describe it. He was a stranger, never there but that once; all he knew +was, that it was higher up, beyond Hartledon House. What might he have +been doing there, demanded the coroner. Only strolling about, was the +answer. What was his business at Calne? came the next question; and as it +was put, the witness caught the eye of the new Lord Hartledon through an +opening in the crowd. His business, the witness replied to the coroner, +was his own business, and did not concern the public, and he respectfully +declined to state it. He presumed Calne was a free place like other +places, where a stranger might spend a few days without question, if he +pleased. + +Pike chuckled at this: incipient resistance to authority cheered that +lawless man's heart. He had stood throughout, in the shadow of the crowd, +just within the door, attentively watching the witnesses as they gave +their evidence: but he was not prepared for what was to come next. + +Did the witness see any other spectators on the bank? continued the +coroner. Only one, was the answer: a man called Pike, or some such name. +Pike was watching the little boat on the river when he got up to him; he +remarked to Pike that his lordship's arm seemed tired; and he and Pike +had walked back to Calne together. + +Pike would have got away had he been able, but the coroner whispered to +an officer. For one single moment Mr. Pike seemed inclined to show fight; +he began struggling, not gently, to reach the door; the next he gave it +up, and resigned himself to his fate. There was a little hubbub, in the +midst of which a slip of paper with a pencilled line from Lord Hartledon, +was handed to the coroner. + +"_Press this point, whether they returned to Calne at once and +together._" + +"George Gorton," cried the coroner, as he crushed the paper in his hand, +"at what hour did you return to Calne?" + +"I went at once. As soon as the little boat was out of sight." + +"Went alone?" + +"No, sir. I and the man Pike walked together. I've said so already." + +"What made you go together?" + +"Nothing in particular. We were both going back, I suppose, and strolled +along talking." + +It appeared to be all that the witness had to tell, and Mr. Pike came +forward perforce. As he stood there, his elegant wide-awake bent in his +hand, he looked more like the wild man of the woods he had been compared +to, than a civilized being. Rough, rude, and abrupt were his tones as he +spoke, and he bent his face and eyes downwards whilst he answered. It was +in those eyes that lay the look which had struck Mr. Elster as being +familiar to him. He persisted in giving his name as Tom, not Thomas. + +But if the stranger in the long coat had little evidence to give, Pike +had even less. He had been in the woods that afternoon and sauntered to +the bank of the river just as Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff; but he +had taken very little notice of him. It was only when the last witness, +who came up at the moment, remarked upon the queer manner in which his +lordship held his arm, that he saw it was lying idle. + +Not a thing more could he or would he tell. It was all he knew, he said, +and would swear it was all. He went back to Calne with the last witness, +and never saw his lordship again alive. + +It did appear to be all, just as it did in the matter of the other man. +The coroner inquired whether he had seen any one else on the banks or +near them, and Pike replied that he had not set eyes on another soul, +which Percival knew to be false, for he had seen _him_. He was told to +put his signature to his evidence, which the clerk had taken down, and +affixed a cross. + +"Can't you write?" asked the coroner. + +Pike shook his head negatively. "Never learnt," he curtly said. And +Percival believed that to be an untruth equally with the other. He could +not help thinking that the avowal of their immediate return might also be +false: it was just as possible that one or other, or both, had followed +the course of the boat. + +Mr. Carteret was examined. He could tell no more than he had already +told. They started together, but he had soon got beyond his lordship, +and had never seen him again alive. There was nothing more to be gleaned +or gathered. Not the smallest suspicion of foul play, or of its being +anything but a most unfortunate accident, was entertained for a moment by +any one who heard the evidence, and the verdict of the jury was to that +effect: Accidental Death. + +As the crowd pressed out of the inquest-room, jostling one another in the +gloom of the evening, and went their several ways, Lord Hartledon found +himself close to Gorton, his coat flapping as he walked. The man was +looking round for Pike: but Mr. Pike, the instant his forced evidence was +given, had slunk away from the gaze of his fellow-men to ensconce himself +in his solitary shed. To all appearance Lord Hartledon had overtaken +Gorton by accident: the man turned aside in obedience to a signal, and +halted. They could not see much of each other's faces in the twilight. + +"I wish to ask you a question," said Percival in low, impressive, and not +unkindly tones. "Did you speak with my brother, Lord Hartledon, at all on +Tuesday?" + +"No, my lord, I did not," was the ready answer. "I was trying to get to +see his lordship, but did not." + +"What did you want with him? What brought you back to Calne?" + +"I wanted to get from him a guarantee for--for what your lordship knows +of; which he had omitted to give, and I had not thought to ask for," +civilly replied the man. "I was looking about for his lordship on the +Tuesday morning, but did not get to see him. In the afternoon, when the +boat-race was over, I made bold to call at Hartledon, but the servants +said his lordship wasn't in. As I came away, I saw him, as I thought, +pass the lodge and go up the road, and I cut after him, but couldn't +overtake him, and at last lost sight of him. I struck into a tangled sort +of pathway through the gorse, or whatever it's called down here, and it +brought me out near the river. His lordship was just sculling down, and +then I knew it was some one else had gone by the lodge, and not him. +Perhaps it was your lordship?" + +"You knew it was Lord Hartledon in the boat? I mean, you recognized him? +You did not mistake him for me?" + +"I knew him, my lord. If I'd been a bit nearer the lodge, I shouldn't +have been likely to mistake even your lordship for him." + +Lord Hartledon was gazing into the man's face still; never once had his +eyes been removed from it. + +"You did not see Lord Hartledon later?" + +"I never saw him all day but that once when he passed in the skiff." + +"You did not follow him, then?" + +"Of what use?" debated the man. "I couldn't call out my business from the +banks, and didn't know his lordship was going to land lower down. I went +straight back to Calne, my lord, walking with that man Pike--who is a rum +fellow, and has a history behind him, unless I'm mistaken; but it's no +business of mine. I made my mind up to another night of it in Calne, +thinking I'd get to Hartledon early next morning before his lordship had +time to go out; and I was sitting comfortably with a pipe and a glass of +beer, when news came of the accident." + +Lord Hartledon believed the man to be telling the truth; and a +weight--the source of which he did not stay to analyse--was lifted from +his mind. But he asked another question. + +"Why are you still in Calne?" + +"I waited for orders. After his lordship died I couldn't go away without +them--carrying with me nothing but the word of a dead man. The orders +came this morning, safe enough; but I had the summons served on me then +to attend the inquest, and had to stay for it. I'm going away now, my +lord, by the first train." + +Lord Hartledon was satisfied, and nodded his head. As he turned back he +met Dr. Ashton. + +"I was looking for you, Lord Hartledon. If you require any assistance or +information in the various arrangements that now devolve upon you, I +shall be happy to render both. There will be a good deal to do one way or +another; more, I dare say, than your inexperience has the least idea of. +You will have your solicitor at hand, of course; but if you want me, you +know where to find me." + +The Rector's words were courteous, but the tone was not warm, and the +title "Lord Hartledon" grated on Val's ear. In his impulse he grasped the +speaker's hand, pouring forth a heartfelt prayer. + +"Oh, Dr. Ashton, will you not forgive me? The horrible trouble I brought +upon myself is over now. I don't rejoice in it under the circumstances, +Heaven knows; I only speak of the fact. Let me come to your house again! +Forgive me for the past." + +"In one sense the trouble is over, because the debts that were a +formidable embarrassment to Mr. Elster are as nothing to Lord Hartledon," +was the reply. "But let me assure you of one thing: that your being Lord +Hartledon will not make the slightest difference to my decision not to +give you my daughter, unless your line of conduct shall change." + +"It is changed. Dr. Ashton, on my word of honour, I will never be guilty +of carelessness again. One thing will be my safeguard, though all else +should fail--the fact that I passed my word for this to my dear brother +not many hours before his death. For my sake, for Anne's sake, you will +forgive me!" + +Was it possible to resist the persuasive tones, the earnestness of the +honest, dark-blue eyes? If ever Percival Elster was to make an effort for +good, and succeed, it must be now. The doctor knew it; and he knew that +Anne's happiness was at stake. But he did not thaw immediately. + +"You know, Lord Hartledon--" + +"Call me Val, as you used to do," came the pleading interruption; and Dr. +Ashton smiled in spite of himself. + +"Percival, you know it is against my nature to be harsh or unforgiving; +just as I believe it contrary to your nature to be guilty of deliberate +wrong. If you will only be true to yourself, I would rather have you for +my son-in-law than any other man in England; as I would have had when you +were Val Elster. Do you note my words? _true to yourself_." + +"As I will be from henceforth," whispered Val, earnest tears rising to +his eyes. + +And as he would have been but for his besetting sin. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +LATER IN THE DAY. + + +It happened that Clerk Gum had business on hand the day of the inquest, +which obliged him to go to Garchester. He reached home after dark; and +the first thing he saw was his wife, in what he was pleased to call a +state of semi-idiocy. The tea-things were laid on the table, and +substantial refreshment in the shape of cold meat, and a plate of muffins +ready for toasting, all for the clerk's regalement. But Mrs. Gum herself +sat on a low chair by the fire, her eyes swollen with crying. + +"What's the matter now?" was the clerk's first question. + +"Oh, Gum, I told you you ought not to have gone off to-day. You might +have stayed for the inquest." + +"Much good I should do the inquest, or the inquest do me," retorted the +clerk. "Has Becky gone?" + +"Long ago. Gum, that dream's coming round. I said it would. I _told_ you +there was ill in store for Lord Hartledon; and that Pike was mixed up in +it, and Mr. Elster also in some way. If you'd only listen to me--" + +The clerk, who had been brushing his hat and shaking the dust from his +outer coat--for he was a careful man with his clothes, and always +well-dressed--brought down his hand upon the table with some temper. + +"Just stop that. I've heard enough of that dream, and of all your dreams. +Confounded folly! Haven't I trouble and worry enough upon my mind, +without your worrying me every time I come in about your idiotic dreams?" + +"Well," returned Mrs. Gum, "if the dream's nothing, I'd like to ask why +they had Pike up to-day before them all?" + +"Who had him up?" asked the clerk, after a pause. "Had him up where?" + +"Before the people sitting on the body of Lord Hartledon. Lydia Jones +brought me the news just now. 'They had Pike the poacher up,' says she. +'He was up before the jury, and had to confess to it.' 'Confess to what,' +said I. 'Why, that he was about in the woods when my lord met his end,' +said she; 'and it's to know how my lord did meet it, and whether the +poacher mightn't have dealt that blow on his temple and robbed him after +it.' Gum--" + +"There's no suspicion of foul play, is there?" interrupted the clerk, in +strangely subdued tones. + +"Not that I know of, except in Lydia's temper," answered Mrs. Gum. "But +I don't like to hear he was up there at all." + +"Lydia Jones is a foul-tongued woman, capable of swearing away any man's +life. Is Pike in custody?" + +"Not yet. They've let him off for the present. Oh, Gum, often and often +do I wish my days were ended!" + +"Often and often do I wish I'd a quiet house to come to, and not be +bothered with dreams," was the scornful retort. "Suppose you toast the +muffins." + +She gave a sigh or two, put her cap straight, smoothed her ragged hair, +and meekly rose to obey. The clerk was carefully folding up the outer +coat, for it was one he wore only on high-days, when he felt something in +the pocket--a small parcel. + +"I'd almost forgotten this," he exclaimed, taking it out. "Thanks to you, +Nance! What with your dreams and other worryings I can't think of my +proper business." + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"A deed Dr. Ashton's lawyer got me to bring and save his clerk a +journey--if you must know. I'll take it over at once, while the tea's +brewing." + +As Jabez Gum passed through his own gate he looked towards Mr. Pike's +dwelling; it was only natural he should do so after the recent +conversation; and he saw that worthy gentleman come stealing across the +waste ground, with his usual cautious step. Although not given to +exchanging courtesies with his neighbour, the clerk walked briskly +towards him now, and waited at the hurdles which divided the waste ground +from the road. + +"I hear you were prowling about the mill when Lord Hartledon met with his +accident," began the clerk, in low, condemning tones. + +"And what if I was," asked Pike, leaning his arms on the hurdles and +facing the clerk. "Near the mill I wasn't; about the woods and river I +was; and I saw him pass down in the sculling boat with his disabled arm. +What of it, I ask?" + +Pike's tone, though short, was civil enough. The forced appearance before +the coroner and public had disturbed his equanimity in no slight degree, +and taken for the present all insolence out of him. + +"Should any doubt get afloat that his lordship's death might not have +been accidental, your presence at the spot would tell against you." + +"No, it wouldn't. I left the spot before the accident could have +happened; and I came back to Calne with a witness. As to the death having +been something worse than accident, not a soul in the place has dreamt of +such a thing except me." + +"Except you! What do you mean?" + +Pike leaned more over the hurdles, so as to bring his disreputable face +closer to Mr. Gum, who slightly recoiled as he caught the low whisper. + +"I don't think the death was accidental. I believe his lordship was just +put out of the way quietly." + +"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the shocked clerk. "By whom? By you?" he +added, in his bewilderment. + +"No," returned the man. "If I'd done it, I shouldn't talk about it." + +"What do you mean?" cried Mr. Gum. + +"I mean that I have my suspicions; and good suspicions they are. Many a +man has been hung on less. I am not going to tell them; perhaps not ever. +I shall wait and keep my eyes open, and bring them, if I can, to +certainties. Time enough to talk then, or keep silent, as circumstances +may dictate." + +"And you tell me you were not near the place at the time of the +accident?" + +"_I_ wasn't," replied Mr. Pike, with emphasis. + +"Who was?" + +"That's my secret. And as I've a little matter of business on hand +to-night, I don't care to be further delayed, if it's all the same to +you, neighbour. And instead of your accusing me of prowling about the +mill again, perhaps you'll just give a thought occasionally to what I +have now said, keeping it to yourself. I'm not afraid of your spreading +it in Calne; for it might bring a hornets' nest about your head, and +about some other heads that you wouldn't like to injure." + +With the last words Mr. Pike crossed the hurdles and went off in the +direction of Hartledon. It was a light night, and the clerk stood and +stared after him. To say that Jabez Gum in his astonishment was uncertain +whether he stood on his head or his heels, would be saying little; and +how much of these assertions he might believe, and what mischief Mr. Pike +might be going after to-night, he knew not. Drawing a long sigh, which +did not sound very much like a sigh of relief, he at length turned off to +Dr. Ashton's, and the man disappeared. + +We must follow Pike. He went stealthily up the road past Hartledon, +keeping in the shade of the hedge, and shrinking into it when he saw any +one coming. Striking off when he neared the mill, he approached it +cautiously, and halted amidst some trees, whence he had a view of the +mill-door. + +He was waiting for the boy, David Ripper. Fully convinced by the lad's +manner at the inquest that he had not told all he knew, but was keeping +something back in fear, Mr. Pike, for reasons of his own, resolved to +come at it if he could. He knew that the boy would be at work later than +usual that night, having been hindered in the afternoon. + +Imagine yourself standing with your back to the river, reader, and take a +view of the premises as they face you. The cottage is a square building, +and has four good rooms on the ground floor. The miller's thrifty wife +generally locked all these rooms up if she went out, and carried the keys +away in her pocket. The parlour window was an ordinary sash-window, with +outside shutters; the kitchen window a small casement, protected by a +fixed net-work of strong wire. No one could get in or out, even when the +casement was open, without tearing this wire away, which would not be a +difficult matter to accomplish. On the left of the cottage, but to your +right as you face it, stands the mill, to which you ascend by steps. It +communicates inside with the upper floor of the cottage, which is used +as a store-room for corn; and from this store-room a flight of stairs +descends to the kitchen below. Another flight of stairs from this +store-room communicated with the open passage leading from the back-door +to the stable. This is all that need be said: and you may think it +superfluous to have described it at all: but it is not so. + +The boy Ripper at length came forth. With a shuddering avoidance of the +water he came tearing along as one running from a ghost, and was darting +past the trees, when he found himself detained by an arm of great +strength. Mr. Pike clapped his other hand upon the boy's mouth, stifling +a howl of terror. + +"Do you see this, Rip?" cried he. + +Rip did see it. It was a pistol held rather inconveniently close to the +boy's breast. Rip dearly loved his life; but it nearly went out of him +then with fear. + +"Now," said Pike, "I've come up to know about this business of Lord +Hartledon's, and I will know it, or leave you as dead as he is. And I'll +have you took up for murder, into the bargain," he rather illogically +continued, "as an accessory to the fact." + +David Ripper was in a state of horror; all idea of concealment gone out +of him. "I couldn't help it," he gasped. "I couldn't get out to him; I +was locked up in the mill. Don't shoot me." + +"I'll spare you on one condition," decided Pike. "Disclose the whole of +this from first to last, and then we may part friends. But try to palm +off one lie upon me, and I'll riddle you through. To begin with: what +brought you locked up in the mill?" + +It was a wicked tale of a wicked young jail-bird, as Mr. Pike (probably +the worse jail-bird by far of the two) phrased it. Master Ripper had +purposely caused himself to be locked in the mill, his object being to +supply himself with as much corn as he could carry about him for the +benefit of his rabbits and pigeons and other live stock at home. He had +done it twice before, he avowed, in dread of the pistol, and had got away +safe through the square hole in the passage at the foot of the back +staircase, whence he had dropped to the ground. To his consternation on +this occasion, however, he had found the door at the foot of the stairs +bolted, as it never had been before, and he could not get to the passage. +So he was a prisoner all the afternoon, and had exercised his legs +between the store-room and kitchen, both of which were open to him. + +If ever a man showed virtuous indignation at a sinner's confession, Mr. +Pike showed it now. "That's how you were about in the stubble-field +setting your traps, you young villain! I saw the coroner look at you. And +now about Lord Hartledon. What did you see?" + +Master Ripper rubbed the perspiration from his face as he went on with +his tale. Pike listened with all the ears he possessed and said not a +word, beyond sundry rough exclamations, until the tale was done. + +"You awful young dog! You saw all that from the kitchen-window, and never +tried to get out of it!" + +"I _couldn't_ get out of it," pleaded the boy. "It's got a wire-net +before it, and I couldn't break that." + +"You are strong enough to break it ten times over," retorted Pike. + +"But then master would ha' known I'd been in the mill!" cried the boy, a +gleam of cunning in his eyes. + +"Ugh," grunted Pike. "And you saw exactly what you've told me?" + +"I saw it and heard the cries." + +"Did he see you?" + +"No; I was afeard to show myself. When master come home, the first thing +he did was t' unlock that there staircase door, and I got out without his +seeing me--" + +"Where did you hide the grain you were loaded with?" demanded Pike. + +"I'd emptied it out again in the store-room," returned the boy. "I told +master there were a loose skiff out there, and he come out and secured +it. Them harvesters come up next and got him out of the water." + +"Yes, you could see fast enough what you were looking for! Well, young +Rip," continued Mr. Pike, consolingly, "you stand about as rich a chance +of being hanged as ever you'll stand in all your born days. If you'd +jumped through that wire you'd have saved my lord, and he'd have made it +right for you with old Floyd. I'd advise you to keep a silent tongue in +your head, if you want to save your neck." + +"I was keeping it, till you come and made me tell with that there +pistol," howled the boy. "You won't go and split on me?" he asked, with +trembling lips. + +"I won't split on you about the grain," graciously promised Pike. "It's +no business of mine. As to the other matter--well, I'll not say anything +about that; at any rate, yet awhile. You keep it a secret; so will I." + +Without another word, Pike extended his hand as a signal that the culprit +was at liberty to depart; and he did so as fast as his legs would carry +him. Pike then returned the pistol to his pocket and took his way back to +Calne in a thoughtful and particularly ungenial mood. There was a doubt +within him whether the boy had disclosed the truth, even to him. + +Perhaps on no one--with the exception of Percival--did the death of Lord +Hartledon leave its effects as it did on Lady Kirton and her daughter +Maude. To the one it brought embarrassment; to the other, what seemed +very like a broken heart. The countess-dowager's tactics must change as +by magic. She had to transfer the affection and consideration evinced for +Edward Lord Hartledon to his brother; and to do it easily and naturally. +She had to obliterate from the mind of the latter her overbearing dislike +to him, cause her insults to be remembered no more. A difficult task, +even for her, wily woman as she was. + +How was it to be done? For three long hours the night after Lord +Hartledon's death, she lay awake, thinking out her plans; perhaps for the +first time in her life, for obtuse natures do not lie awake. The death +had affected her only as regarded her own interests; she could feel for +none and regret none in her utter selfishness. One was fallen, but +another had risen up. "Le roi est mort: vive le roi!" + +On the day following the death she had sought an interview with Percival. +Never a woman evinced better tact than she. There was no violent change +in her manner, no apologies for the past, or display of sudden affection. +She spoke quietly and sensibly of passing topics: the death, and what +could have led to it; the immediate business on hand, some of the changes +it entailed in the future. "I'll stay with you still, Percival," she +said, "and look after things a bit for you, as I have been doing for your +brother. It is an awful shock, and we must all have time to get over it. +If I had only foreseen this, how I might have spared my temper and poor +Maude's feelings!" + +She looked out of the corner of her eye at the young man; but he betrayed +no curiosity to hear more, and she went on unasked. + +"You know, Val, for a portionless girl, as Maude is, it was a great blow +to me when I found her fixing her heart upon a younger son. How cross and +unjust it made me I couldn't conceal: mothers are mothers. I wanted her +to take a fancy to Hartledon, dear fellow, and I suppose she could not, +and it rendered me cross; and I know I worried her and worried my own +temper, till at times I was not conscious of what I said. Poor Maude! she +did not rebel openly, but I could see her struggles. Only a week ago, +when Hartledon was talking about his marrying sometime, and hinting that +she might care fox him if she tried, she scored her beautiful drawing all +over with ugly marks; ran the pencil through it--" + +"But why do you tell me this now?" asked Val. + +"Hartledon--dear me! I wonder how long I shall be getting accustomed to +your name?--there's only you and me and Maude left now of the family," +cried the dowager; "and if I speak of such things, it is in fulness of +heart. And now about these letters: do you care how they are worded?" + +"I don't seem to care about anything," listlessly answered the young man. +"As to the letters, I think I'd rather write them myself, Lady Kirton." + +"Indeed you shall not have any trouble of that sort to-day. _I'll_ write +the letters, and you may indulge yourself in doing nothing." + +He yielded in his unstable nature. She spoke of business letters, and it +was better that he should write them; he wished to write them; but she +carried her point, and his will yielded to hers. Would it be a type of +the future?--would he yield to her in other things in defiance of his +better judgment? Alas! alas! + +She picked up her skirts and left him, and went sailing upstairs to her +daughter's room. Maude was sitting shivering in a shawl, though the day +was hot. + +"I've paved the way," nodded the old woman, in meaning tones. "And +there's one fortunate thing about Val: he is so truthful himself, one may +take him in with his eyes open." + +Maude turned _her_ eyes upon her mother: very languid and unspeculative +eyes just then. + +"I gave him a hint, Maude, that you had been unable to bring yourself to +like Hartledon, but had fixed your mind on a younger son. Later, we'll +let him suspect who the younger son was." + +The words aroused Maude; she started up and stood staring at her mother, +her eyes dilating with a sort of horror; her pale cheeks slowly turning +crimson. + +"I don't understand," she gasped; "I _hope_ I don't understand. You--you +do not mean that I am to try to like Val Elster?" + +"Now, Maude, no heroics. I'll not see _you_ make a fool of yourself as +your sisters have done. He's not Val Elster any longer; he is Lord +Hartledon: better-looking than ever his brother was, and will make a +better husband, for he'll be more easily led." + +"I would not marry Val for the whole world," she said, with strong +emotion. "I dislike him; I hate him; I never could be a wife to Val +Elster." + +"We'll see," said the dowager, pushing up her front, of which she had +just caught sight in a glass. + +"Thank Heaven, there's no fear of it!" resumed Maude, collecting her +senses, and sitting down again with a relieved sigh; "he is to marry Anne +Ashton. Thank Heaven that he loves her!" + +"Anne Ashton!" scornfully returned the countess-dowager. "She might have +been tolerated when he was Val Elster, not now he is Lord Hartledon. What +notions you have, Maude!" + +Maude burst into tears. "Mamma, I think it is fearfully indecent for you +to begin upon these things already! It only happened last night, and--and +it sounds quite horrible." + +"When one has to live as I do, one has to do many things decent and +indecent," retorted the countess-dowager sharply. "He has had his hint, +and you've got yours: and you are no true girl if you suffer yourself now +to be triumphed over by Anne Ashton." + +Maude cried on silently, thinking how cruel fate was to have taken one +brother and spared the other. Who--save Anne Ashton--would have missed +Val Elster; while Lord Hartledon--at least he had made the life of one +heart. A poor bruised heart now; never, never to be made quite whole +again. + +Thus the dowager, in her blindness, began her plans. In her blindness! If +we could only foresee the ending of some of the unholy schemes that many +of us are apt to weave, we might be more willing to leave them humbly in +a higher Hand than ours. Do they ever bring forth good, these plans, born +of our evil passions--hatred, malice, utter selfishness? I think not. +They may seem to succeed triumphantly, but--watch the triumph to the end. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FEVER. + + +The dews of an October evening were falling upon Calne, as Lord Hartledon +walked from the railway-station. Just as unexpectedly as he had arrived +the morning you first saw him, when he was only Val Elster, had he +arrived now. By the merest accident one of the Hartledon servants +happened to be at the station when the train arrived, and took charge of +his master's luggage. + +"All well at home, James?" + +"All quite well, my lord." + +Several weeks had elapsed since his brother's death, and Lord Hartledon +had spent them in London. He went up on business the week after the +funeral, and did not return again. In one respect he had no inducement to +return; for the Ashtons, including Anne, were on a visit in Wales. They +were at home now, as he knew well; and perhaps that had brought him down. + +He went in unannounced, finding his way to the inner drawing-room. A +large fire blazed in the grate, and Lady Maude sat by it so intent in +thought as not to observe his entrance. She wore a black crêpe dress, +with a little white trimming on its low body and sleeves. The firelight +played on her beautiful features; and her eyelashes glistened as if with +tears: she was thinner and paler; he saw it at once. The countess-dowager +kept to Hartledon and showed no intention of moving from it: she and her +daughter had been there alone all these weeks. + +"How are you, Maude?" + +She looked round and started up, backing from him with a face of alarm. +Ah, was it _instinct_ caused her so to receive him? What, or who, was she +thinking of; holding her hands before her with that face of horror? + +"Maude, have I so startled you?" + +"Percival! I beg your pardon. I believe I was thinking of--of your +brother, and I really did not know you in the uncertain light. We don't +have the rooms lighted early," she added, with a little laugh. + +He took her hands in his. Now that she knew him, and the alarm was over, +she seemed really pleased to see him: the dark eyes were raised to his +with a frank smile. + +"May I take a cousin's greeting, Maude?" + +Without waiting for yes or no, he stooped and took the kiss. Maude flung +his hands away. He should have left out the "cousin," or not have taken +the kiss. + +He went and stood with his elbow on the mantelpiece, soberly, as if he +had only kissed a sister. Maude sat down again. + +"Why did you not send us word you were coming?" she asked. + +"There was no necessity for it. And I only made my mind up this morning." + +"What a long time you have been away! I thought you went for a week." + +"I did not get my business over very quickly; and waited afterwards to +see Thomas Carr, who was out of town. The Ashtons were away, you know; so +I had no inducement to hurry back again." + +"Very complimentary to _her_. Who's Thomas Carr?" asked Maude. + +"A barrister; the greatest friend I possess in this world. We were at +college together, and he used to keep me straight." + +"Keep you straight! Val!" + +"It's quite true. I went to him in all my scrapes and troubles. He is the +most honourable, upright, straightforward man I know; and, as such, +possesses a talent for serving--" + +"Hartledon! Is it _you_?" + +The interruption came from the dowager. She and the butler came in +together, both looking equally astonished at the appearance of Lord +Hartledon. The former said dinner was served. + +"Will you let me sit down in this coat?" asked Val. + +The countess-dowager would willingly have allowed him to sit down without +any. Her welcome was demonstrative; her display of affection quite warm, +and she called him "Val," tenderly. He escaped for a minute to his room, +washed his hands, brushed his hair, and was down again, and taking the +head of his own table. + +It was pleasant to have him there--a welcome change from Hartledon's +recent monotony; and even Maude, with her boasted dislike, felt prejudice +melting away. Boasted dislike, not real, it had been. None could dislike +Percival. He was not Edward, and it was him Maude had loved. Percival she +never would love, but she might learn to like him. As he sat near her, in +his plain black morning attire, courteous, genuinely sweet-tempered, his +good looks conspicuous, a smile on his delicate, refined, but vacillating +lips, and his honest dark-blue eyes bent upon her in kindness, Maude for +the first time admitted a vision of the possible future, together with a +dim consciousness that it might not be intolerable. Half the world, of +her age and sex, would have deemed it indeed a triumph to be made the +wife of that attractive man. + +He had cautiously stood aside for Lady Kirton to take the head of the +table; but the dowager had positively refused, and subsided into the +chair at the foot. She did not fill it in dear Edward's time, she said; +neither should she in dear Val's; he had come home to occupy his own +place. And oh, thank goodness he was come! She and Maude had been so +lonely and miserable, growing thinner daily from sheer _ennui_. So she +faced Lord Hartledon at the end of the table, her flaxen curls surmounted +by an array of black plumes, and looking very like a substantial female +mute. + +"What an awful thing that is about the Rectory!" exclaimed she, when they +were more than half through dinner. + +Lord Hartledon looked up quietly. "What is the matter at the Rectory?" + +"Fever has broken out." + +"Is that all!" he exclaimed, some amusement on his face. "I thought it +must have taken fire." + +"A fever's worse than a fire." + +"Do you think so?" + +"_Think so!_" echoed the dowager. "You can run away from a fire; but a +fever may take you before you are aware of it. Every soul in the Rectory +may die; it may spread to the parish; it may spread here. I have kept tar +burning outside the house the last two days." + +"You are not serious, Lady Kirton!" + +"I am serious. I wouldn't catch a fever for the whole world. I should die +of fright before it had time to kill me. Besides--I have Maude to guard. +You were forgetting her." + +"There's no danger at all. One of the servants became ill after they +returned home, and it proved to be fever. I don't suppose it will +spread." + +"How did _you_ hear about it?" + +"From Miss Ashton. She mentioned it in her last letter to me." + +"I didn't know you corresponded with her," cried the dowager, her tones +rather shrill. + +"Not correspond with Miss Ashton!" he repeated. "Of course I do." + +The old dowager had a fit of choking: something had gone the wrong way, +she said. Lord Hartledon resumed. + +"It is an awful shame of those seaside lodging-house people! Did you hear +the particulars, Maude? After the Ashtons concluded their visit in Wales, +they went for a fortnight to the seaside, on their way home, taking +lodgings. Some days after they had been settled in the rooms they +discovered that some fever was in the house; a family who occupied +another set of apartments being ill with it, and had been ill before the +Ashtons went in. Dr. Ashton told the landlady what he thought of her +conduct, and then they left the house for home. But Mrs. Ashton's maid, +Matilda, had already taken it." + +"Did Miss Ashton give you these particulars?" asked Maude, toying with a +late rose that lay beside her plate. + +"Yes. I should feel inclined to prosecute the woman, were I Dr. Ashton, +for having been so wickedly inconsiderate. But I hope Matilda is better, +and that the alarm will end with her. It is four days since I had Anne's +letter." + +"Then, Lord Hartledon, I can tell you the alarm's worse, and another has +taken it, and the parish is up in arms," said the countess-dowager, +tartly. "It has proved to be fever of a most malignant type, and not a +soul but Hillary the surgeon goes near the Rectory, You must not venture +within half-a-mile of it. Dr. Ashton was so careless as to occupy his +pulpit on Sunday; but, thank goodness, I did not venture to church, +or allow Maude to go. Your Miss Ashton will be having it next." + +"Of course they have advice from Garchester?" he exclaimed. + +"How should I know? My opinion is that the parson himself might be +prosecuted for bringing the fever into a healthy neighbourhood. Port, +Hedges! One has need of a double portion of tonics in a time like this." + +The countess-dowager's alarms were not feigned--no, nor exaggerated. She +had an intense, selfish fear of any sort of illness; she had a worse fear +of death. In any time of public epidemic her terrors would have been +almost ludicrous in their absurdity but that they were so real. And she +"fortified" herself against infection by eating and drinking more than +ever. + +Nothing else was said: she shunned allusion to it when she could: and +presently she and Maude left the dining-room. "You won't be long, +Hartledon?" she observed, sweetly, as she passed him. Val only bowed in +answer, closed the door upon them, and rang for Hedges. + +"Is there much alarm regarding this fever at the Rectory?" he asked of +the butler. + +"Not very much, I think, my lord. A few are timid about it; as is always +the case. One of the other servants has taken it; but Mr. Hillary told me +when he was here this morning that he hoped it would not spread beyond +the Rectory." + +"Was Hillary here this morning? Nobody's ill?" asked Lord Hartledon, +quickly. + +"No one at all, my lord. The countess-dowager sent for him, to ask what +her diet had better be, and how she could guard against infection more +effectually than she was doing. She did not allow him to come in, but +spoke to him from one of the upper windows, with a cloak and respirator +on." + +Lord Hartledon looked at his butler; the man was suppressing a grim +smile. + +"Nonsense, Hedges!" + +"It's quite true, my lord. Mrs. Mirrable says she has five bowls of +disinfectant in their rooms." + +Lord Hartledon broke into a laugh, not suppressed. + +"And in the courtyard, looking towards the Rectory, as may be said, +there's several pitch-pots alight night and day," added Hedges. "We have +had a host of people up, wanting to know if the place is on fire." + +"What a joke!" cried Val--who was not yet beyond the age to enjoy such +jokes. "Hedges," he resumed, in a more confidential tone, "no strangers +have been here inquiring for me, I suppose?" + +He alluded to creditors, or people acting for them. To a careless man, as +Val had been, it was a difficult matter to know whether all his debts +were paid or not. He had settled what he remembered; but there might be +others. Hedges understood; and his voice fell to the same low tone: he +had been pretty cognizant of the embarrassments of Mr. Percival Elster. + +"Nobody at all, my lord. They wouldn't have got much information out of +me, if they had come." + +Lord Hartledon laughed. "Things are changed now, Hedges, and they may +have as much information as they choose. Bring me coffee here; make +haste." + +Coffee was brought, and he went out as soon as he had taken it, following +the road to the Rectory. It was a calm, still night, the moon tolerably +bright; not a breath of wind stirred the air, warm and oppressive for +October; not by any means the sort of night doctors covet when fever is +in the atmosphere. + +He turned in at the Rectory-gates, and was crossing to the house, when a +rustling of leaves in a shrubbery path caused him to look over the dwarf +laurels, and there stood Anne. He was at her side in an instant. She had +nothing on her head, as though she had just come forth from the rooms for +a breath of air. As indeed was the case. + +"My darling!" + +"I heard you had come," she whispered, as he held both her hands in his, +and her heart bounded with an exquisite flutter of delight. + +"How did you hear that?" he said, placing her hand within his arm, that +he might pace the walk with her. + +"Papa heard it. Some one had seen you walking home from the train: I +think it was Mr. Hillary. But, Percival, ought you to have come here?" +she added in alarm. "This is infected ground, you know." + +"Not for me. I have no more fear of fever than I have of moonstroke. +Anne, I hope _you_ will not take it," he gravely added. + +"I hope not, either. Like you, I have no fear of it. I am so glad Arthur +is away. Was it not wrong of that landlady to let her rooms to us when +she had fever in them?" + +"Infamously wrong," said Lord Hartledon warmly. + +"She excused herself afterwards by saying, that as the people who had the +fever were in quite a different part of the house from ours, she thought +there could be no danger. Papa was so angry. He told her he was sorry the +law did not take cognizance of such an offence. We had been a week in the +house before we knew of it." + +"How did you find it out?" + +"The lady who was ill with it died, and Matilda saw the coffin going up +the back stairs. She questioned the servants of the house, and one of +them told her all about it then, bit by bit. Another lady was lying ill, +and a third was recovering. The landlady, by way of excuse, said the +greatest wrong had been done to herself, for these ladies had brought the +fever into her house, and brought it deliberately. Fever had broken out +in their own home, some long way off, and they ran away from it, and took +her apartments, saying nothing; which was true, we found." + +"Two wrongs don't make a right," observed Lord Hartledon. "Their bringing +the fever into her house was no justification for receiving you into it +when it was there. It's the way of the world, Anne: one wrong leading to +others. Is Matilda getting over it?" + +"I hardly know. She is not out of danger; but Mr. Hillary has hopes of +her. One of the other servants has taken it, and is worse than Matilda. +Mr. Hillary has been with her three times to-day, and is coming again. +She was ill when I last wrote to you, Val; but we did not know it." + +"Which of them is it?" he asked. + +"The dairymaid; a stout girl, who has never had a day's illness before. +I don't suppose you know her. There was some trouble with her. She would +not take any medicine; would not do anything she ought to have done, and +the consequence is that the fever has got dangerously ahead. I am sure +she is very ill." + +"I hope it will not spread beyond the Rectory." + +"Oh, Val, that is our one great hope," she said, turning her earnest face +to him in the moonlight. "We are taking all possible precautions. None of +us are going beyond the grounds, except papa, and we do not receive any +one here. I don't know what papa will say to your coming." + +He smiled. "But you can't keep all the world away!" + +"We do--very nearly. Mr. Hillary comes, and Dr. Beamish from Garchester, +and one or two people have been here on business. If any one calls at the +gate, they are not asked in; and I don't suppose they would come in if +asked. Jabez Gum's the most obstinate. He comes in just as usual." + +"Lady Kirton is in an awful fright," said Val, in an amused tone. + +"Oh, I have heard of it," cried Anne, clasping her hands in laughter. +"She is burning tar outside the house; and she spoke to Mr. Hillary this +morning through the window muffled up in a cloak and respirator. What a +strange old thing she is!" + +Val shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think she means badly _au fond_; and +she has no home, poor creature." + +"Is that why she remains at Hartledon?" + +"I suppose so. Reigning at Hartledon must be something like a glimpse of +Paradise to her. She won't quit it in a hurry." + +"I wonder you like to have her there." + +"I know I shall never have courage to tell her to go," was the candid and +characteristic answer. "I was afraid of her as a boy, and I'm not sure +but I'm afraid of her still." + +"I don't like her--I don't like either of them," said Anne in a low tone. + +"Don't you like Maude?" + +"No. I am sure she is not true. To my mind there is something very false +about them both." + +"I think you are wrong, Anne; certainly as regards Maude." + +Miss Ashton did not press her opinion: they were his relatives. "But I +should have pitied poor Edward had he lived and married her," she said, +following out her thoughts. + +"I was mistaken when I thought Maude cared for Edward," observed Lord +Hartledon. "I'm sure I did think it. I used to tell Edward so; but a day +or two after he died I found I was wrong. The dowager had been urging +Maude to like him, and she could not, and it made her miserable." + +"Did Maude tell you this?" inquired Anne; her radiant eyes full of +surprise. + +"Not Maude: she never said a word to me upon the subject. It was the +dowager." + +"Then, Val, she must have said it with an object in view. I am sure Maude +did love him. I know she did." + +He shook his head. "You are wrong, Anne, depend upon it. She did not like +him, and she and her mother were at variance upon the point. However, it +is of no moment to discuss it now: and it might never have come to an +issue had Edward lived, for he did not care for her; and I dare say never +would have cared for her." + +Anne said no more. It was of no moment as he observed; but she retained +her own opinion. They strolled to the end of the short walk in silence, +and Anne said she must go in. + +"Am I quite forgiven?" whispered Lord Hartledon, bending his head down to +her. + +"I never thought I had very much to forgive," she rejoined, after a +pause. + +"My darling! I mean by your father." + +"Ah, I don't know. You must talk to him. He knows we have been writing to +each other. I think he means to trust you." + +"The best plan will be for you to come soon to Hartledon, Anne. I shall +never go wrong when once you are my wife." + +"Do you go so very wrong now?" she asked. + +"On my honour, no! You need not doubt me, Anne; now or ever. I have paid +up what I owed, and will take very good care to keep out of trouble for +the future. I incurred debts for others, more than for myself, and have +bought experience dearly. My darling, surely you can trust me now?" + +"I always did trust you," she murmured. + +He took a long, fervent kiss from her lips, and then led her to the open +lawn and across to the house. + +"Ought you to come in, Percival?" + +"Certainly. One word, Anne; because I may be speaking to the Rector--I +don't mean to-night. You will make no objection to coming soon to +Hartledon?" + +"I can't come, you know, as long as Lady Kirton is its mistress," she +said, half seriously, half jestingly. + +He laughed at the notion. Lady Kirton must be going soon of her own +accord; if not, he should have to pluck up courage and give her a hint, +was his answer. At any rate, she'd surely take herself off before +Christmas. The old dowager at Hartledon after he had Anne there! Not if +he knew it, he added, as he went on with her into the presence of Dr. and +Mrs. Ashton. The Rector started from his seat, at once telling him that +he ought not to have come in. Which Val did not see at all, and decidedly +refused to go out again. + +Meanwhile the countess-dowager and Maude were wondering what had become +of him. They supposed he was still sitting in the dining-room. The old +dowager fidgeted about, her fingers ominously near the bell. She was +burning to send to him, but hardly knew how he might take the message: it +might be that he would object to leading strings, and her attempt to put +them on would ruin all. But the time went on; grew late; and she was +dying for her tea, which she had chosen should wait also. Maude sat +before the fire in a large chair; her eyes, her hands, her whole air +supremely listless. + +"Don't you want tea, Maude?" suddenly cried her mother, who had cast +innumerable glances at her from time to time. + +"I have wanted it for hours--as it seems to me." + +"It's a horrid custom for young men, this sitting long after dinner. If +he gets into it--But you must see to that, and stop it, if ever you reign +at Hartledon. I dare say he's smoking." + +"If ever I reign at Hartledon--which I am not likely to do--I'll take +care not to wait tea for any one, as you have made me wait for it this +evening," was Maude's rejoinder, spoken with apathy. + +"I'll send a message to him," decided Lady Kirton, ringing rather +fiercely. + +A servant appeared. + +"Tell Lord Hartledon we are waiting tea for him." + +"His lordship's not in, my lady." + +"Not in!" + +"He went out directly after dinner, as soon as he had taken coffee." + +"Oh," said the countess-dowager. And she began to make the tea with +vehemence--for it did not please her to have it brought in made--and +knocked down and broke one of the delicate china cups. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +ANOTHER PATIENT. + + +It was eleven o'clock when Lord Hartledon entered. Lady Kirton was +fanning herself vehemently. Maude had gone upstairs for the night. + +"Where have you been?" she asked, laying down her fan. "We waited tea for +you until poor Maude got quite exhausted." + +"Did you? I am sorry for that. Never wait for me, pray, Lady Kirton. I +took tea at the Rectory." + +"Took--tea--where?" + +"At the Rectory." + +With a shriek the countess-dowager darted to the far end of the room, +turning up her gown as she went, and muffling it over her head and face, +so that only the little eyes, round now with horror, were seen. Lord +Hartledon gazed in amazement. + +"You have been at the Rectory, when I warned you not to go! You have been +inside that house of infection, and come home--here--to me--to my darling +Maude! May heaven forgive you, Hartledon!" + +"Why, what have I done? What harm will it do?" exclaimed the astonished +man. He would have approached her, but she warned him from her piteously +with her hands. She was at the upper end of the room, and he near the +door, so that she could not leave it without passing him. Hedges came +in, and stood staring in the same wondering astonishment as his master. + +"For mercy's sake, take off every shred of your clothes!" she cried. "You +may have brought home death in them. They shall be thrown into the +burning tar. Do you want to kill us? What has Maude done to you that you +behave in this way?" + +"I do think you must be going mad!" cried Lord Hartledon, in +bewilderment; "and I hope you'll forgive me for saying so. I--" + +"Go and change your clothes!" was all she could reiterate. "Every minute +you stand in them is fraught with danger. If you choose to die yourself, +it's downright wicked to bring death to us. Oh, go, that I may get out of +here." + +Lord Hartledon, to pacify her, left the room, and the countess-dowager +rushed forth and bolted herself into her own apartments. + +Was she mad, or making a display of affectation, or genuinely afraid? +wondered Lord Hartledon aloud, as he went up to his chamber. Hedges gave +it as his opinion that she was really afraid, because she had been as bad +as this when she first heard of the illness, before his lordship arrived. +Val retired to rest laughing: it was a good joke to him. + +But it was no joke to the countess-dowager, as he found to his cost when +the morning came. She got him out of his chamber betimes, and commenced a +"fumigating" process. The clothes he had worn she insisted should be +burnt; pleading so piteously that he yielded in his good nature. + +But there was to be a battle on another score. She forbade him, in the +most positive terms, to go again to the Rectory--to approach within +half-a-mile of it. Lord Hartledon civilly told her he could not comply; +he hinted that if her alarms were so great, she had better leave the +place until all danger was over, and thereby nearly entailed on himself +another war-dance. + +News that came up that morning from the Rectory did not tend to assuage +her fears. The poor dairymaid had died in the night, and another servant, +one of the men, was sickening. Even Lord Hartledon looked grave: and the +countess-dowager wormed a half promise from him, in the softened feelings +of the moment, that he would not visit the infected house. + +Before an hour was over he came to her to retract it. "I cannot be so +unfeeling, so unneighbourly, as not to call," he said. "Even were my +relations not what they are with Miss Ashton, I could not do it. It's of +no use talking, ma'am; I am too restless to stay away." + +A little skirmish of words ensued. Lady Kirton accused him of wishing to +sacrifice them to his own selfish gratification. Lord Hartledon felt +uncomfortable at the accusation. One of the best-hearted men living, he +did nothing in his vacillation. He would go in the evening, he said to +himself, when they could not watch him from the house. + +But she was clever at carrying out her own will, that countess-dowager; +more than a match for the single-minded young man. She wrote an urgent +letter to Dr. Ashton, setting forth her own and her daughter's danger if +her nephew, as she styled him, was received at the Rectory; and she +despatched it privately. + +It brought forth a letter from Dr. Ashton to Lord Hartledon; a kind but +peremptory mandate, forbidding him to show himself at the Rectory until +the illness was over. Dr. Ashton reminded his future son-in-law that it +was not particularly on his own account he interposed this veto, but for +the sake of the neighbourhood generally. If they were to prevent the +fever from spreading, it was absolutely necessary that no chance visitors +should be running into the Rectory and out of it again, to carry possible +infection to the parish. + +Lord Hartledon could only acquiesce. The note was written in terms so +positive as rather to surprise him; but he never suspected the +undercurrent that had been at work. In his straightforwardness he showed +the letter to the dowager, who nodded her head approvingly, but told no +tales. + +And so his days went on in the society of the two women at Hartledon; +and if he found himself oppressed with _ennui_ at first, he subsided +into a flirtation with Maude, and forgot care. Elster's folly! He was not +hearing from Anne, for it was thought better that even notes should not +pass out of the Rectory. + +Curiously to relate, the first person beyond the Rectory to take the +illness was the man Pike. How he could have caught it was a marvel to +Calne. And yet, if Lady Kirton's theory were correct, that infection was +conveyed by clothes, it might be accounted for, and Clerk Gum be deemed +the culprit. One evening after the clerk had been for some little time at +the Rectory with Dr. Ashton, he met Pike in going out; had brushed close +to him in passing, as he well remembered. However it might have been, in +a few days after that Pike was found to be suffering from the fever. + +Whether he would have died, lying alone in that shed, Calne did not +decide; and some thought he would, making no sign; some thought not, but +would have called in assistance. Mr. Hillary, an observant man, as +perhaps it was requisite he should be in time of public danger, halted +one morning to speak to Clerk Gum, who was standing at his own gate. + +"Have you seen anything lately of that neighbour of yours, Gum?" + +"Which neighbour?" asked the clerk, in tones that seemed to resent the +question. + +Mr. Hillary pointed his umbrella in the direction of the shed. "Pike." + +"No, I've seen nothing of him, that I remember." + +"Neither have I. What's more, I've seen no smoke coming out of the +chimney these two days. It strikes me he's ill. It may be the fever." + +"Gone away, possibly," remarked the clerk, after a moment's pause; "in +the same unceremonious manner that he came." + +"I think somebody ought to see. He may be lying there helpless." + +"Little matter if he is," growled the clerk, who seemed put out about +something or other. + +"It's not like you to say so, Gum. You might step over the stile and see; +you're nearest to him. Nobody knows what the man is, or what he may have +been; but humanity does not let even the worst die unaided." + +"What makes you think he has the fever?" asked the clerk. + +"I only say he may have it; having seen neither him nor his smoke these +two days. Never mind; if it annoys you to do this, I'll look in myself +some time to-day." + +"You wouldn't get admitted; he keeps his door fastened," returned Gum. +"The only way to get at him is to shout out to him through that glazed +aperture he calls his window." + +"Will you do it--or shall I?" + +"I'll do it," said the clerk; "and tell you if your services are wanted." + +Mr. Hillary walked off at a quick pace. There was a good deal of illness +in Calne at that season, though the fever had not spread. + +Whether Clerk Gum kept his word, or whether he did not, certain it was +that Mr. Hillary heard nothing from him that day. In the evening the +clerk was sitting in his office in a thoughtful mood, busy over some +accounts connected with an insurance company for which he was agent, when +he heard a quick sharp knock at the front-door. + +"I wonder if it's Hillary?" he muttered, as he took the candle and rose +to open it. + +Instead of the surgeon, there entered a lady, with much energy. It was +the _bête noire_ of Clerk Gum's life, Mrs. Jones. + +"What's the house shut up for at this early hour?" she began. "The door +locked, the shutters up, and the blinds down, just as if everybody was +dead or asleep. Where's Nance?" + +"She's out," said the clerk. "I suppose she shut up before she went, and +I've been in my office all the afternoon. Do you want anything?" + +"Do I want anything!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "I've come in to shelter from +the rain. It's been threatening all the evening, and it's coming down now +like cats and dogs." + +The clerk was leading the way to the little parlour; but she ignored the +movement, and went on to the kitchen. He could only follow her. "It's a +pity you came out when it threatened rain," said he. + +"Business took me out," replied Mrs. Jones. "I've been up to the mill. +I heard young Rip was ill, and going to leave; so I went up to ask if +they'd try our Jim. But young Rip isn't going to leave, and isn't ill, +mother Floyd says, though it's certain he's not well. She can't think +what's the matter with the boy; he's always fancying he sees ghosts in +the river. I've had my trapes for nothing." + +She had given her gown a good shake from the rain-drops in the middle of +the kitchen, and was now seated before the fire. The clerk stood by the +table, occasionally snuffing the candle, and wishing she'd take herself +off again. + +"Where's Nancy gone?" asked she. + +"I didn't hear her say." + +"And she'll be gone a month of Sundays, I suppose. I shan't wait for her, +if the rain gives over." + +"You'd be more comfortable in the small parlour," said the clerk, who +seemed rather fidgety; "there's a nice bit of fire there." + +"I'm more comfortable here," contradicted Mrs. Jones. "Where's the good +of a bit of fire for a gown as wet as mine?" + +Jabez Gum made no response. There was the lady, a fixture; and he could +only resign himself to the situation. + +"How's your friend at the next house--Pike?" she began again +sarcastically. + +"He's no friend of mine," said the clerk. + +"It looks like it, at all events; or you'd have given him into custody +long ago. _I_ wouldn't let a man harbour himself so close to me. He's +taken to a new dodge now: going about with a pistol to shoot people." + +"Who says so?" asked the clerk. + +"I say so. He frighted that boy Ripper pretty near to death. The boy tore +home one night in a state of terror, and all they could get out of him +was that he'd met Pike with a pistol. It's weeks ago, and he hasn't got +over it yet." + +"Did Pike level it at him?" + +"I tell you that's all they could get out of the boy. He's a nice +jail-bird too, that young Rip, unless I'm mistaken. They might as +well send him away, and make room for our Jim." + +"I think you are about the most fanciful, unjust, selfish woman in +Calne!" exclaimed the clerk, unable to keep down his anger any longer. +"You'd take young Ripper's character away without scruple, just because +his place might suit your Jim!" + +"I'm what?" shrieked Mrs. Jones. "I'm unjust, am I--" + +An interruption occurred, and Mrs. Jones subsided into silence. The +back-door suddenly opened, not a couple of yards from that lady's head, +and in came Mrs. Gum in her ordinary indoor dress, two basins in her +hand. The sight of her visitor appeared to occasion her surprise; she +uttered a faint scream, and nearly dropped the basins. + +"Lawk a mercy! Is it Lydia Jones?" + +Mrs. Jones had been drawing a quiet deduction--the clerk had said his +wife was out only to deceive her. She rose from her chair, and faced him. + +"I thought you told me she was gone out?" + +The clerk coughed. He looked at his wife, as if asking an explanation. +The meeker of the two women hastily put her basins down, and stood +looking from one to the other, apparently recovering breath. + +"Didn't you go out?" asked the clerk. + +"I was going, Gum, but stepped out first to collect my basins, and then +the rain came down. I had to shelter under the wood-shed, it was +peppering so." + +"Collect your basins!" interjected Mrs. Jones. "Where from?" + +"I put them out with scraps for the cats." + +"The cats must be well off in your quarter; better than some children in +others," was the rejoinder, delivered with an unnecessary amount of +spite. "What makes you so out of breath?" she tartly asked. + +"I had a bit of a fright," said the woman, simply. "My breath seems to +get affected at nothing of late, Lydia." + +"A pity but you'd your hands full of work, as mine are: that's the best +remedy for fright," said Mrs. Jones sarcastically. "What might your +fright have been, pray?" + +"I was standing, waiting to dart over here, when I saw a man come across +the waste land and make for Pike's shed," said Mrs. Gum, looking at her +husband. "It gave me a turn. We've never seen a soul go near the place of +an evening since Pike has been there." + +"Why should it give you a turn?" asked Mrs. Jones, who was in a mood +to contradict everything. "You've seen Pike often enough not to be +frightened at him when he keeps his distance." + +"It wasn't Pike, Lydia. The man had an umbrella over him, and he looked +like a gentleman. Fancy Pike with an umbrella!" + +"Was it Mr. Hillary?" interposed the clerk. + +She shook her head. "I don't think so; but it was getting too dark to +see. Any way, it gave me a turn; and he's gone right up to Pike's shed." + +"Gave you a turn, indeed!" scornfully repeated Mrs. Jones. "I think +you're getting more of an idiot every day, Nance. It's to be hoped +somebody's gone to take him up; that's what is to be hoped." + +But Mr. Hillary it was. Hearing nothing from Jabez Gum all day, he had +come to the conclusion that that respectable man had ignored his promise, +and, unable to divest himself of the idea that Pike was ill, in the +evening, having a minute to spare, he went forth to see for himself. + +The shed-door was closed, but not fastened, and Mr. Hillary went in at +once without ceremony. A lighted candle shed its rays around the rude +dwelling-room: and the first thing he saw was a young man, who did not +look in the least like Pike, stretched upon a mattress; the second was a +bushy black wig and appurtenances lying on a chair; and the third was a +formidable-looking pistol, conveniently close to the prostrate invalid. + +Quick as thought, the surgeon laid his hand upon the pistol and removed +it to a safe distance. He then bent over the sick man, examining him with +his penetrating eyes; and what he saw struck him with consternation so +great, that he sat down on a chair to recover himself, albeit not liable +to be overcome by emotion. + +When he left the shed--which was not for nearly half-an-hour after he had +entered it--he heard voices at Clerk Gum's front-door. The storm was +over, and their visitor was departing. Mr. Hillary took a moment's +counsel with himself, then crossed the stile and appeared amongst them. +Nodding to the three collectively, he gravely addressed the clerk and his +wife. + +"I have come here to ask, in the name of our common humanity, whether you +will put aside your prejudices, and be Christians in a case of need," he +began. "I don't forget that once, when an epidemic was raging in Calne, +you"--turning to the wife--"were active and fearless, going about and +nursing the sick when almost all others held aloof. Will you do the same +now by a helpless man?" + +The woman trembled all over. Clerk Gum looked questioningly at the +doctor. Mrs. Jones was taking in everything with eyes and ears. + +"This neighbour of yours has caught the fever. Some one must attend to +him, or he will lie there and die. I thought perhaps you'd do it, Mrs. +Gum, for our Saviour's sake--if from no other motive." + +She trembled excessively. "I always was terribly afraid of that man, sir, +since he came," said she, with marked hesitation. + +"But he cannot harm you now. I don't ask you to go in to him one day +after he is well again--if he recovers. Neither need you be with him +as a regular nurse: only step in now and then to give him his physic, +or change the wet cloths on his burning head." + +Mrs. Jones found her voice. The enormous impudence of the surgeon's +request had caused its temporary extinction. + +"I'd see Pike in his coffin before I'd go a-nigh him as a nurse! What on +earth will you be asking next, Mr. Hillary?" + +"I didn't ask you, Mrs. Jones: you have your children to attend to; full +employment for one pair of arms. Mrs. Gum has nothing to do with her +time; and is near at hand besides. Gum, you stand in your place by Dr. +Ashton every Sunday, and read out to us of the loving mercy of God: will +you urge your wife to this little work of charity for His sake?" + +Jabez Gum evidently did not know what to answer. On the one hand, he +could hardly go against the precepts he had to respond to as clerk; on +the other, there was his scorn and hatred of the disreputable Arab. + +"He's such a loose character, sir," he debated at length. + +"Possibly: when he is well. But he is ill now, and could not be loose if +he tried. Some one _must_ go in now and then to see after him: it struck +me that perhaps your wife would do it, for humanity's sake; and I thought +I'd ask her before going further." + +"She can do as she likes," said Jabez. + +Mrs. Gum--as unresisting in her nature as ever was Percival +Elster--yielded to the prayer of the surgeon, and said she would do +what she could. But she had never shown more nervousness over anything +than she was showing as she gave her answer. + +"Then I will step indoors and give you a few plain directions," said the +surgeon. "Mrs. Jones has taken her departure, I perceive." + +Mrs. Gum was as good as her word, and went in with dire trepidation. +Calne's sentiments, on the whole, resembled Mrs. Jones's, and the woman +was blamed for her yielding nature. But she contrived, with the help of +Mr. Hillary's skill, to bring the man through the fever; and it was very +singular that no other person out of the Rectory took it. + +The last one to take it at the Rectory was Mrs. Ashton. Of the three +servants who had it, one had died; the other two recovered. Mrs. Ashton +did not take it until the rest were well, and she had it lightly. Anne +nursed her and would do so; and it was an additional reason for +prolonging the veto against Lord Hartledon. + +One morning in December, Val, in passing down the road, saw the Rectory +turned, as he called it, inside out. Every window was thrown open; +curtains were taken down; altogether there seemed to be a comprehensive +cleaning going on. At that moment Mr. Hillary passed, and Val arrested +him, pointing to the Rectory. + +"Yes, they are having a cleansing and purification. The family went away +this morning." + +"Went where?" exclaimed Hartledon, in amazement. + +"Dr. Ashton has taken a cottage near Ventnor." + +"Had Mrs. Ashton quite recovered?" + +"Quite: or they would not have gone. The Rectory has had a clean bill of +health for some time past." + +"Then why did they not let me know it?" exclaimed Val, in his +astonishment and anger. + +"Perhaps you didn't ask," said the surgeon. "But no visitors were sought. +Time enough for that when the house shall have been fumigated." + +"They might have sent to me," he cried, in resentment. "To go away and +never let me know it!" + +"They may have thought you were too agreeably engaged to care to be +disturbed," remarked the surgeon. + +"What do you mean?" demanded Val, hotly. + +Mr. Hillary laughed. "People will talk, you know; and rumour has it that +Lord Hartledon has found attractions in his own home, whilst the Rectory +was debarred to him." + +Val wheeled round on his heel, and walked away in displeasure. Home +truths are never palatable. But the kindly disposition of the man resumed +its sway immediately: he turned back, and pointed to the shed. + +"Is that interesting patient of yours on his legs again?" + +"He is getting better. The disease attacked him fiercely and was +unusually prolonged. It's strange he should have been the only one to +take it." + +"Gum's wife has been nursing him, I hear?" + +"She has gone in and out to do such necessary offices as the sick +require. I put it to her from a Christian point of view, you see, and on +the score of humanity. She was at hand; and that's a great thing where +the nurse is only a visiting one." + +"Look here, Hillary; don't let the man want for anything; see that he has +all he needs. He is a black sheep, no doubt; but illness levels us all to +one standard. Good day." + +"Good day, Lord Hartledon." + +And when the surgeon had got to a distance with his quick step, Lord +Hartledon turned back to the Rectory. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +VAL'S DILEMMA. + + +It was a mild day in spring. The air was balmy, but the skies were grey +and lowering; and as a gentleman strolled across a field adjoining +Hartledon Park he looked up at them more than once, as if asking whether +they threatened rain. + +Not that he had any great personal interest in the question. Whether the +skies gave forth sunshine or rain is of little moment to a mind not at +rest. He had only looked up in listlessness. A stranger might have taken +him at a distance for a gamekeeper: his coat was of velveteen; his boots +were muddy: but a nearer inspection would have removed the impression. + +It was Lord Hartledon; but changed since you last saw him. For some time +past there had been a worn, weary look upon his face, bespeaking a mind +ill at ease; the truth is, his conscience was not at rest, and in time +that tells on the countenance. + +He had been by the fish-pond for an hour. But the fish had not shown +themselves inclined to bite, and he grew too impatient to remain. +Not altogether impatient at the wary fish, but in his own mental +restlessness. The fishing-rod was carried in his hand in pieces; and he +splashed along, in a brown study, on the wet ground, flinging himself +over the ha-ha with an ungracious movement. Some one was approaching +across the park from the house, and Lord Hartledon walked on to a gate, +and waited there for him to come up. He began beating the bars with the +thin end of the rod, and--broke it! + +"That's the way you use your fishing-rods," cried the free, pleasant +voice of the new-comer. "I shouldn't mind being appointed purveyor of +tackle to your lordship." + +The stranger was an active little man, older than Hartledon; his features +were thin, his eyes dark and luminous. I think you have heard his +name--Thomas Carr. Lord Hartledon once called him the greatest friend he +possessed on earth. He had been wont to fly to him in his past dilemmas, +and the habit was strong upon him still. A mandate that would have been +peremptory, but for the beseeching terms in which it was couched, had +reached Mr. Carr on circuit; and he had hastened across country to obey +it, reaching Hartledon the previous evening. That something was wrong, +Mr. Carr of course was aware; but what, he did not yet know. Lord +Hartledon, with his natural vacillation, his usual shrinking from the +discussion of unpleasant topics relating to himself, had not entered upon +it at all on the previous night; and when breakfast was over that +morning, Mr. Carr had craved an hour alone for letter-writing. It was the +first time Mr. Carr had visited his friend at his new inheritance; indeed +the first time he had been at all at Hartledon. Lord Hartledon seated +himself on the gate; the barrister leaned his arms on the top bar whilst +he talked to him. + +"What is the matter?" asked the latter. + +"Not much." + +"I have finished my letters, so I came out to look for you. You are not +changed, Elster." + +"What should change me in so short a time?--it's only six months since +you last saw me," retorted Hartledon, curtly. + +"I alluded to your nature. I had to worm the troubles out of you in the +old days, each one as it arose. I see I shall have to do the same now. +Don't say there's not much the matter, for I am sure there is." + +Lord Hartledon jerked his handkerchief out of his pocket, passed it over +his face, and put it back again. + +"What fresh folly have you got into?--as I used to ask you at Oxford. You +are in some mess." + +"I suppose it's of no use denying that I am in one. An awful mess, too." + +"Well, I have pulled you out of many a one in my time. Let me hear it." + +"There are some things one does not like to talk about, Carr. I sent for +you in my perplexity; but I believe you can be of no use to me." + +"So you have said before now. But it generally turned out that I was of +use to you, and cleared you from your nightmare." + +"All those were minor difficulties; this is different." + +"I cannot understand your 'not liking' to speak of things to me. Why +don't you begin?" + +"Because I shall prove myself worse than a fool. You'll despise me to +your heart's core. Carr, I think I shall go mad!" + +"Tell me the cause first, and go mad afterwards. Come, Val; I am your +true friend." + +"I have made an offer of marriage to two women," said Hartledon, +desperately plunging into the revelation. "Never was such a born idiot +in the world as I have been. I can't marry both." + +"I imagine not," quietly replied Mr. Carr. + +"You knew I was engaged to Miss Ashton?" + +"Yes." + +"And I'm sure I loved her with all my"--he seemed to hesitate for a +strong term--"might and main; and do still. But I have managed to get +into mischief elsewhere." + +"Elster's folly, as usual. What sort of mischief?" + +"The worst sort, for there can be no slipping out of it. When that fever +broke out at Doctor Ashton's--you heard us talking of it last night, +Carr--I went to the Rectory just as usual. What did I care for fever?--it +was not likely to attack me. But the countess-dowager found it out--" + +"Why do they stay here so long?" interrupted Thomas Carr. "They have been +here ever since your brother died." + +"And before it. The old woman likes her quarters, and has no settled +home. She makes a merit of stopping, and says I ought to feel under +eternal obligation to her and Maude for sacrificing themselves to a +solitary man and his household. But you should have heard the uproar +she made upon discovering I had been to the Rectory. She had my room +fumigated and my clothes burnt." + +"Foolish old creature!" + +"The best of it was, I pointed out by mistake the wrong coat, and +the offending one is upstairs now. I shall show it her some day. She +reproached me with holding her life and her daughter's dirt-cheap, and +wormed a promise out of me not to visit the Rectory as long as fever was +in it." + +"Which you gave?" + +"She wormed it out of me, I tell you. I don't know that I should have +kept it, but Dr. Ashton put in his veto also; and between the two I was +kept away. For many weeks afterwards I never saw or spoke to Anne. She +did not come out at all, even to church; they were so anxious the fever +should not spread." + +"Well? Go on, Val." + +"Well: how does that proverb run, about idleness being the root of all +evil? During those weeks I was an idle man, wretchedly bored; and I fell +into a flirtation with Maude. She began it, Carr, on my solemn word of +honour--though it's a shame to tell these tales of a woman; and I joined +in from sheer weariness, to kill time. But you know how one gets led on +in such things--or I do, if you, you cautious fellow, don't--and we both +went in pretty deep." + +"Elster's folly again! How deep?" + +"As deep as I well could, short of committing myself to a proposal. You +see the ill-luck of it was, those two and I being alone in the house. I +may as well say Maude and I alone; for the old woman kept her room very +much; she had a cold, she said, and was afraid of the fever." + +"Tush!" cried Thomas Carr angrily. "And you made love to the young lady?" + +"As fast as I could make it. What a fool I was! But I protest I only did +it in amusement; I never thought of her supplanting Anne Ashton. Now, +Carr, you are looking as you used to look at Oxford; get your brow smooth +again. You just shut up yourself for weeks with a fascinating girl, and +see if you wouldn't find yourself in some horrible entanglement, proof +against such as you think you are." + +"As I am obliged to be. I should take care not to lay myself open to the +temptation. Neither need you have done it." + +"I don't see how I was to help myself. Often and often I wished to have +visitors in the house, but the old woman met me with reproaches that I +was forgetting the recent death of my brother. She won't have any one now +if she knows it, and I had to send for you quietly. Did you see how she +stared last night when you came in?" + +Mr. Carr drew down his lips. "You might have gone away yourself, Elster." + +"Of course I might," was the testy reply. "But I was a fool, and didn't. +Carr, I swear to you I fell into the trap unconsciously; I did not +foresee danger. Maude is a charming girl, there's no denying it; but +as to love, I never glanced at it." + +"Was it not suspected in town last year that Lady Maude had a liking for +your brother?" + +"It was suspected there and here; I thought it myself. We were mistaken. +One day lately Maude offended me, and I hinted at something of the sort: +she turned red and white with indignation, saying she wished he could +rise from his grave to refute it. I only wish he could!" added the +unhappy man. + +"Have you told me all?" + +"All! I wish I had. In December I was passing the Rectory, and saw it +dismantled. Hillary, whom I met, said the family had gone to Ventnor. I +went in, but could not learn any particulars, or get the address. I +chanced a letter, written I confess in anger, directing it Ventnor only, +and it found them. Anne's answer was cool: mischief-making tongues had +been talking about me and Maude; I learned so much from Hillary; and Anne +no doubt resented it. I resented that--can you follow me, Carr?--and I +said to myself I wouldn't write again for some time to come. Before that +time came the climax had occurred." + +"And while you were waiting for your temper to come round in regard to +Miss Ashton, you continued to make love to the Lady Maude?" remarked Mr. +Carr. "On the face of things, I should say your love had been transferred +to her." + +"Indeed it hadn't. Next to Anne, she's the most charming girl I know; +that's all. Between the two it will be awful work for me." + +"So I should think," returned Mr. Carr. "The ass between two bundles of +hay was nothing to it." + +"He was not an ass at all, compared with what I am," assented Val, +gloomily. + +"Well, if a man behaves like an ass--" + +"Don't moralize," interrupted Hartledon; "but rather advise me how to get +out of my dilemma. The morning's drawing on, and I have promised to ride +with Maude." + +"You had better ride alone. All the advice I can give you is to draw back +by degrees, and so let the flirtation subside. If there is no actual +entanglement--" + +"Stop a bit, Carr; I had not come to it," interrupted Lord Hartledon, who +in point of fact had been holding back what he called the climax, in his +usual vacillating manner. "One ill-starred day, when it was pouring cats +and dogs, and I could not get out, I challenged Maude to a game at +billiards. Maude lost. I said she should pay me, and put my arm round her +waist and snatched a kiss. Just at that moment in came the dowager, who I +believe must have been listening--" + +"Not improbably," interrupted Mr. Carr, significantly. + +"'Oh, you two dear turtle-doves,' cried she, 'Hartledon, you have made me +so happy! I have seen for some weeks what you were thinking of. There's +nobody living I'd confide that dear child to but yourself: you shall have +her, and my blessing shall be upon you both.' + +"Carr," continued poor Val, "I was struck dumb. All the absurdity of the +thing rose up before me. In my confusion I could not utter a word. A man +with more moral courage might have spoken out; acknowledged the shame and +folly of his conduct and apologized. I could not." + +"Elster's folly! Elster's folly!" thought the barrister. "You never had +the slightest spark of moral courage," he observed aloud, in pained +tones. "What did you say?" + +"Nothing. There's the worst of it. I neither denied the dowager's +assumption, nor confirmed it. Of course I cannot now." + +"When was this?" + +"In December." + +"And how have things gone on since? How do you stand with them?" + +"Things have gone on as they went on before; and I stand engaged to +Maude, in her mother's opinion; perhaps in hers: never having said myself +one word to support the engagement." + +"Only continued to 'make love,' and 'snatch a kiss,'" sarcastically +rejoined Mr. Carr. + +"Once in a way. What is a man to do, exposed to the witchery of a pretty +girl?" + +"Oh, Percival! You are worse than I thought for. Where is Miss Ashton?" + +"Coming home next Friday," groaned Val. "And the dowager asked me +yesterday whether Maude and I had arranged the time for our marriage. +What on earth I shall do, I don't know. I might sail for some remote land +and convert myself into a savage, where I should never be found or +recognized; there's no other escape for me." + +"How much does Miss Ashton know of this?" + +"Nothing. I had a letter from her this morning, more kindly than her +letters have been of late." + +"Lord Hartledon!" exclaimed Mr. Carr, in startled tones. "Is it possible +that you are carrying on a correspondence with Miss Ashton, and your +love-making with Lady Maude?" + +Val nodded assent, looking really ashamed of himself. + +"And you call yourself a man of honour! Why, you are the greatest +humbug--" + +"That's enough; no need to sum it up. I see all I've been." + +"I understood you to imply that your correspondence with Miss Ashton had +ceased." + +"It was renewed. Dr. Ashton came up to preach one Sunday, just before +Christmas, and he and I got friendly again; you know I never can be +unfriendly with any one long. The next day I wrote to Anne, and we have +corresponded since; more coolly though than we used to do. Circumstances +have been really against me. Had they continued at Ventnor, I should have +gone down and spent my Christmas with them, and nothing of this would +have happened; but they must needs go to Dr. Ashton's sister's in +Yorkshire for Christmas; and there they are still. It was in that +miserable Christmas week that the mischief occurred. And now you have +the whole, Carr. I know I've been a fool; but what is to be done?" + +"Lord Hartledon," was the grave rejoinder, "I am unable to give you +advice in this. Your conduct is indefensible." + +"Don't 'Lord Hartledon' me: I won't stand it. Carr?" + +"Well?" + +"If you bring up against me a string of reproaches lasting until night +will that mend matters? I am conscious of possessing but one true friend +in the world, and that's yourself. You must stand by me." + +"I was your friend; never a truer. But I believed you to be a man of +honour." + +Hartledon lifted his hat from his brow; as though the brow alone were +heavy enough just then. At least the thought struck Mr. Carr. + +"I have been drawn unwittingly into this, as I have into other things. I +never meant to do wrong. As to dishonour, Heaven knows my nature shrinks +from it." + +"If your nature does, you don't," came the severe answer. "I should feel +ashamed to put forth the same plea always of 'falling unwittingly' into +disgrace. You have done it ever since you were a schoolboy. Talk of the +Elster folly! this has gone beyond it. This is dishonour. Engaged to one +girl, and corresponding with her; making hourly love for weeks to +another! May I inquire which of the two you really care for?" + +"Anne--I suppose." + +"You suppose!" + +"You make me wild, talking like this. Of course it's Anne. Maude has +managed to creep into my regard, though, in no common degree. She is very +lovely, very fascinating and amiable." + +"May I ask which of the two you intend to marry!" continued the +barrister, neither suppressing nor attempting to soften his indignant +tones. "As this country's laws are against a plurality of wives, you will +be unable, I imagine, to espouse them both." + +Hartledon looked at him, beseechingly, and a sudden compassion came over +Mr. Carr. He asked himself whether it was quite the way to treat a +perplexed man who was very dear to him. + +"If I am severe, it is for your sake. I assure you I scarcely know what +advice to give. It is Miss Ashton, of course, whom you intend to make +Lady Hartledon?" + +"Of course it is. The difficulty in the matter is getting clear of +Maude." + +"And the formidable countess-dowager. You must tell Maude the truth." + +"Impossible, Carr. I might have done it once; but the thing has gone on +so long. The dowager would devour me." + +"Let her try to. I should speak to Maude alone, and put her upon her +generosity to release you. Tell her you presumed upon your cousinship; +and confess that you have long been engaged to marry Miss Ashton." + +"She knows that: they have both known it all along. My brother was the +first to tell them, before he died." + +"They knew it?" inquired Mr. Carr, believing he had not heard correctly. + +"Certainly. There has been no secret made of my engagement to Anne. All +the world knows of that." + +"Then--though I do not in the least defend or excuse you--your breaking +with Lady Maude may be more pardonable. They are poor, are they not, this +Dowager Kirton and Lady Maude?" + +"Poor as Job. Hard up, I think." + +"Then they are angling for the broad lands of Hartledon. I see it all. +You have been a victim to fortune-hunting." + +"There you are wrong, Carr. I can't answer for the dowager one way or the +other; but Maude is the most disinterested--" + +"Of course: girls on the look-out for establishments always are. Have it +as you like." + +He spoke in tones of ridicule; and Hartledon jumped off the stile and led +the way home. + +That Lord Hartledon had got himself into a very serious predicament, Mr. +Carr plainly saw. His good nature, his sensitive regard for the feelings +of others, rendering it so impossible for him to say no, and above all +his vacillating disposition, were his paramount characteristics still: in +a degree they ever would be. Easily led as ever, he was as a very reed +in the hands of the crafty old woman of the world, located with him. She +had determined that he should become the husband of her daughter; and was +as certain of accomplishing her end as if she had foreseen the future. +Lord Hartledon himself afterwards, in his bitter repentance, said, over +and over again, that circumstances were against him; and they certainly +were so, as you will find. + +Lord Hartledon thought he was making headway against it now, in sending +for his old friend, and resolving to be guided by his advice. + +"I will take an opportunity of speaking to Maude, Carr," he resumed. "I +would rather not do it, of course; but I see there's no help for it." + +"Make the opportunity," said Mr. Carr, with emphasis. "Don't delay a day; +I shall expect you to write me a letter to-morrow saying you've done it." + +"But you won't leave to-day," said Hartledon, entreatingly, feeling an +instant prevision that with the departure of Thomas Carr all his courage +would ignominiously desert him. + +"I must go. You know I told you last night that my stay could only be +four-and-twenty hours. You can accomplish it whilst I am here, if you +like, and get it over; the longer a nauseous medicine is held to the lips +the more difficult it is to swallow it. You say you are going to ride +with Lady Maude presently; let that be your opportunity." + +And get it over! Words that sounded as emancipation in Val's ear. But +somehow he did not accomplish it in that ride. Excuses were on his lips +five hundred times, but his hesitating lips never formed them. He really +was on the point of speaking; at least he said so to himself; when Mr. +Hillary overtook them on horseback, and rode with them some distance. +After that, Maude put her horse to a canter, and so they reached home. + +"Well?" said Mr. Carr. + +"Not yet," answered Hartledon; "there was no opportunity." + +"My suggestion was to make your opportunity." + +"And so I will. I'll speak to her either to-night or to-morrow. She chose +to ride fast to-day; and Hillary joined us part of the way. Don't look as +if you doubted me, Carr: I shall be sure to speak." + +"Will he?" thought Thomas Carr, as he took his departure by the evening +train, having promised to run down the following Saturday for a few +hours. "It is an even bet, I think. Poor Val!" + +Poor Val indeed! Vacillating, attractive, handsome Val! shrinking, +sensitive Val! The nauseous medicine was never taken. And when the +Ashtons returned to the Rectory on the Friday night he had not spoken. + +And the very day of their return a rumour reached his ear that Mrs. +Ashton's health was seriously if not fatally shattered, and she was +departing immediately for the South of France. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BETWEEN THE TWO. + + +Not in the Rectory drawing-room, but in a pretty little sitting-room +attached to her bed-chamber, where the temperature was regulated, and no +draughts could penetrate, reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her invalid gown sat +loosely upon her shrunken form, her delicate, lace cap shaded a fading +face. Anne sat by her side in all her loveliness, ostensibly working; but +her fingers trembled, and her face looked flushed and pained. + +It was the morning after their return, and Mrs. Graves had called in to +see Mrs. Ashton--gossiping Mrs. Graves, who knew all that took place in +the parish, and a great deal of what never did take place. She had just +been telling it all unreservedly in her hard way; things that might be +said, and things that might as well have been left unsaid. She went out +leaving a whirr and a buzz behind her and an awful sickness of desolation +upon one heart. + +"Give me my little writing-case, Anne," said Mrs. Ashton, waking up from +a reverie and sitting forward on her sofa. + +Anne took the pretty toy from the side-table, opened it, and laid it on +the table before her mother. + +"Is it nothing I can write for you, mamma?" + +"No, child." + +Anne bent her hot face over her work again. It had not occurred to her +that it could concern herself; and Mrs. Ashton wrote a few rapid lines: + + "My Dear Percival, + + "Can you spare me a five-minutes' visit? I wish to speak with you. We + go away again on Monday. + + "Ever sincerely yours, + + "Catherine Ashton." + +She folded it, enclosed it in an envelope, and addressed it to the Earl +of Hartledon. Pushing away the writing-table, she held out the note to +her daughter. + +"Seal it for me, Anne. I am tired. Let it go at once." + +"Mamma!" exclaimed Anne, as her eye caught the address. "Surely you are +not writing to him! You are not asking him to come here?" + +"You see that I am writing to him, Anne. And it is to ask him to come +here. My dear, you may safely leave me to act according to my own +judgment. But as to what Mrs. Graves has said, I don't believe a word +of it." + +"I scarcely think I do," murmured Anne; a smile hovering on her troubled +countenance, like sunshine after rain. + +Anne had the taper alight, and the wax held to it, the note ready in her +hand, when the room-door was thrown open by Mrs. Ashton's maid. + +"Lord Hartledon." + +He came in in a hurried manner, talking fast, making too much fuss; it +was unlike his usual quiet movements, and Mrs. Ashton noticed it. As he +shook hands with her, she held the note before him. + +"See, Percival! I was writing to ask you to call upon me." + +Anne had put out the light, and her hand was in Lord Hartledon's before +she well knew anything, save that her heart was beating tumultuously. +Mrs. Ashton made a place for him on the sofa, and Anne quietly left the +room. + +"I should have been here earlier," he began, "but I had the steward with +me on business; it is little enough I have attended to since my brother's +death. Dear Mrs. Ashton! I grieve to hear this poor account of you. You +are indeed looking ill." + +"I am so ill, Percival, that I doubt whether I shall ever be better in +this world. It is my last chance, this going away to a warmer place until +winter has passed." + +He was bending towards her in earnest sympathy, all himself again; his +dark blue eyes very tender, his pleasant features full of concern as he +gazed on her face. And somehow, looking at that attractive countenance, +Mrs. Ashton's doubts went from her. + +"But what I have said is to you alone," she resumed. "My husband and +children do not see the worst, and I refrain from telling them. A little +word of confidence between us, Val." + +"I hope and trust you may come back cured!" he said, very fervently. "Is +it the fever that has so shattered you?" + +"It is the result of it. I have never since been able to recover +strength, but have become weaker and more weak. And you know I was +in ill health before. We leave on Monday morning for Cannes." + +"For Cannes?" he exclaimed. + +"Yes. A place not so warm as some I might have gone to; but the doctors +say that will be all the better. It is not heat I need; only shelter from +our cold northern winds until I can get a little strength into me. +There's nothing the matter with my lungs; indeed, I don't know that +anything is the matter with me except this terrible weakness." + +"I suppose Anne goes with you?" + +"Oh yes. I could not go without Anne. The doctor will see us settled +there, and then he returns." + +A thought crossed Lord Hartledon: how pleasant if he and Anne could have +been married, and have made this their wedding tour. He did not speak it: +Mrs. Ashton would have laughed at his haste. + +"How long shall you remain away?" he asked. + +"Ah, I cannot tell you. I may not live to return. If all goes well--that +is, if there should be a speedy change for the better, as the medical men +who have been attending me think there may be--I shall be back perhaps in +April or May. Val--I cannot forget the old familiar name, you see--" + +"I hope you never will forget it," he warmly interposed. + +"I wanted very particularly to see you. A strange report was brought +here this morning and I determined to mention it to you. You know what +an old-fashioned, direct way I have of doing things; never choosing a +roundabout road if I can take a straight one. This note was a line asking +you to call upon me," she added, taking it from her lap, where it had +been lying, and tossing it on to the table, whilst her hearer, his +conscience rising up, began to feel a very little uncomfortable. "We +heard you had proposed marriage to Lady Maude Kirton." + +Lord Hartledon's face became crimson. "Who on earth could have invented +that?" cried he, having no better answer at hand. + +"Mrs. Graves mentioned it to me. She was dining at Hartledon last week, +and the countess-dowager spoke about it openly." + +Mrs. Ashton looked at him; and he, confused and taken aback, looked down +on the carpet, devoutly wishing himself in the remote regions he had +spoken of to Mr. Carr. Anywhere, so that he should never be seen or +recognized again. + +"What am I to do?" thought he. "I wish Mother Graves was hanged!" + +"You do not speak, Percival!" + +"Well, I--I was wondering what could have given rise to this," he +stammered. "I believe the old dowager would like to see her daughter +mistress of Hartledon: and suppose she gave utterance to her thoughts." + +"Very strange that she should!" observed Mrs. Ashton. + +"I think she's a little cracked sometimes," coughed Val; and, in truth, +he now and then did think so. "I hope you have not told Anne?" + +"I have told no one. And had I not felt sure it had no foundation, I +should have told the doctor, not you. But Anne was in the room when Mrs. +Graves mentioned it." + +"What a blessing it would be if Mrs. Graves were out of the parish!" +exclaimed Val, hotly. "I wonder Dr. Ashton keeps Graves on, with such a +mother! No one ever had such a mischief-making tongue as hers." + +"Percival, may I say something to you?" asked Mrs. Ashton, who was +devouring him with her eyes. "Your manner would almost lead me to believe +that there _is_ something in it. Tell me the truth; I can never be +anything but your friend." + +"Believe one thing, dear Mrs. Ashton--that I have no intention of +marrying anyone but Anne; and I wish with all my heart and soul you'd +give her to me to-day. Shut up with those two women, the one pretty, the +other watching any chance word to turn it to her own use, I dare say the +Mrs. Graveses of the place have talked, forgetting that Maude is my +cousin. I believe I paid some attention to Maude because I was angry +at being kept out of the Rectory; but my attentions meant nothing, upon +my honour." + +"Elster's folly, Val! Lady Maude may have thought they did." + +"At any rate she knew of my engagement to Anne." + +"Then there is nothing in it?" + +"There shall be nothing in it," was the emphatic answer. "Anne was my +first love, and she will be my last. You must promise to give her to me +as soon as you return from Cannes." + +"About that you must ask her father. I dare say he will do so." + +Lord Hartledon rose from his seat; held Mrs. Ashton's hand between his +whilst he said his adieu, and stooped to kiss her with a son's affection. +She was a little surprised to find it was his final farewell. They were +not going to start until Monday. But Hartledon could not have risked that +cross-questioning again; rather would he have sailed away for the savage +territories at once. He went downstairs searching for Anne, and found her +in the room where you first saw her--her own. She looked up with quite an +affectation of surprise when he entered, although she had probably gone +there to await him. The best of girls are human. + +"You ran away, Anne, whilst mamma and I held our conference?" + +"I hope it has been satisfactory," she answered demurely, not looking up, +and wondering whether he suspected how violently her heart was beating. + +"Partly so. The end was all right. Shall I tell it you?" + +"The end! Yes, if you will," she replied unsuspectingly. + +"The decision come to is, that a certain young friend of ours is to be +converted, with as little delay as circumstances may permit, into Lady +Hartledon." + +Of course there came no answer except a succession of blushes. Anne's +work, which she had carried with her, took all her attention just then. + +"Can you guess her name, Anne?" + +"I don't know. Is it Maude Kirton?" + +He winced. "If you have been told that abominable rubbish, Anne, it is +not necessary to repeat it. It's not so pleasant a theme that you need +make a joke of it." + +"Is it rubbish?" asked Anne, lifting her eyes. + +"I think you ought to know that if any one does. But had anything +happened, Anne, recollect it would have been your fault. You have been +very cool to me of late. You forbid me the house for weeks and weeks; you +went away for an indefinite period without letting me know, or giving me +the chance of seeing you; and when the correspondence was at length +renewed, your letters were cold and formal--quite different from what +they used to be. It almost looks as if you wished to part from me." + +Repentance was stealing over her: why had she ever doubted him? + +"And now you are going away again! And although this interview may be +our last for months, you scarcely deign to give me a word or a look of +farewell." + +Anne had already been terribly tried by Mrs. Graves: this was the climax: +she lost her self-control and burst into tears. Lord Hartledon was +softened at once. He took her two hands in his; he clasped her to his +heart, half devouring her face with passionate kisses. Ah, Lady Maude! +this impassioned love was never felt for you. + +"You don't love her?" whispered Anne. + +"Love her! I never loved but you, my best and dearest. I never shall, or +can, love another." + +He spoke in all good faith; fully believing what he said; and it was +indeed true. And Anne? As though a prevision had been upon her of the +future, she remained passively in his arms sobbing hysterically, and +suffering his kisses; not drawing away from him in maiden modesty, as +was her wont. She had never clung to him like this. + +"You will write to me often?" he whispered. + +"Yes. Won't you come to Cannes?" + +"I don't know that it will be possible, unless you remain beyond the +spring. And should that be the case, Anne, I shall pray your father and +mother that the marriage may take place there. I am going up to town next +month to take my seat in the House. It will be a busy session; and I want +to see if I can't become a useful public man. I think it would please the +doctor to find I've some stuff in me; and a man must have a laudable +object in life." + +"I would rather die," murmured Anne, passionately in her turn, "than hear +again what Mrs. Graves said." + +"My darling, we cannot stop people's gossip. Believe in me; I will not +fail you. Oh, Anne, I wish you were already my wife!" he aspirated +fervently, his perplexities again presenting themselves to his mind. + +"The time will come," she whispered. + +Lord Hartledon walked home full of loyal thought, saying to himself what +an utter idiot he had been in regard to Maude, and determined to lose no +time in getting clear of the entanglement. He sought an opportunity of +speaking to her that afternoon; he really did; but could not find it. The +dowager had taken her out to pay a visit. + +Mr. Carr was as good as his word, and got down in time for dinner. One +glance at Lord Hartledon's face told him what he half expected to +see--that the word of emancipation had not yet been spoken. + +"Don't blame me, Carr. I shall speak to-night before I sleep, on my word +of honour. Things have come to a crisis now; and if I wished to hold back +I could not. I would say what a fool I have been not to speak before; +only you know I'm one already." + +Thomas Carr laughed. + +"Mrs. Ashton has heard some tattle about Maude, and spoke to me this +afternoon. Of course I could only deny it, my face feeling on fire with +its sense of dishonour, for I don't think I ever told a deliberate lie in +my life; and--and, in short, I should like my marriage with Anne to take +place as soon as possible." + +"Well, there's only one course to pursue, as I told you when I was down +before. Tell Lady Maude the candid truth, and take shame and blame to +yourself, as you deserve. Her having known of the engagement to Miss +Ashton renders your task the easier." + +Very restless was Lord Hartledon until the moment came. He knew the best +time to speak to Maude would be immediately after dinner, whilst the +countess-dowager took her usual nap. There was no hesitation now; and he +speedily followed them upstairs, leaving his friend at the dinner-table. + +He went up, feeling a desperate man. To those of his temperament having +to make a disagreeable communication such as this is almost as cruel as +parting with life. + +No one was in the drawing-room but Lady Kirton--stretched upon a sofa and +apparently fast asleep. Val crossed the carpet with softened tread to the +adjoining rooms: small, comfortable rooms, used by the dowager in +preference to the more stately rooms below. Maude had drawn aside the +curtain and was peering out into the frosty night. + +"Why, how soon you are up!" she cried, turning at his entrance. + +"I came on purpose, Maude. I want to speak to you." + +"Are you well?" she asked, coming forward to the fire, and taking her +seat on a sofa. In truth, he did not look very well just then. "What is +it?" + +"Maude," he answered, his fair face flushing a dark red as he plunged +into it blindfold: "I am a rogue and a fool!" + +Lady Maude laughed. "Elster's folly!" + +"Yes. You know all this time that we--that I--" (Val thought he should +never flounder through this first moment, and did not remain an instant +in one place as he talked)--"have been going on so foolishly, I +was--almost as good as a married man." + +"Were you?" said she, quietly. "Married to whom?" + +"I said as good as married, Maude. You know I have been engaged for years +to Miss Ashton; otherwise I would have _knelt_ to ask you to become my +wife, so earnestly should I desire it." + +Her calm imperturbability presented a curious contrast to his agitation. +She was regarding him with an amused smile. + +"And, Maude, I have come now to ask you to release me. Indeed, I--" + +"What's all this about?" broke in the countess-dowager, darting upon +the conference, her face flushed and her head-dress awry. "Are you two +quarrelling?" + +"Val was attempting to explain something about Miss Ashton," answered +Maude, rising from the sofa, and drawing herself up to her stately +height. "He had better do it to you instead, mamma; I don't understand +it." + +She stood up by the mantelpiece, in the ray of the lustres. They fell +across her dark, smooth hair, her flushed cheeks, her exquisite features. +Her dress was of flowing white crêpe, with jet ornaments; and Lord +Hartledon, even in the midst of his perplexity, thought how beautiful she +was, and what a sad thing it was to lose her. The truth was, his senses +had been caught by the girl's beauty although his heart was elsewhere. +It is a very common case. + +"The fact is, ma'am," he stammered, turning to the dowager in his +desperation, "I have been behaving very foolishly of late, and am asking +your daughter's pardon. I should have remembered my engagement to Miss +Ashton." + +"Remembered your engagement to Miss Ashton!" echoed the dowager, her +voice becoming a little shrill. "What engagement?" + +Lord Hartledon began to recover himself, though he looked foolish still. +With these nervous men it is the first plunge that tells; get that over +and they are brave as their fellows. + +"I cannot marry two women, Lady Kirton, and I am bound to Anne." + +The old dowager's voice toned down, and she pulled her black feathers +straight upon her head. + +"My dear Hartledon, I don't think you know what you are talking about. +You engaged yourself to Maude some weeks ago." + +"Well--but--whatever may have passed, engagement or no engagement, I +could not legally do it," returned the unhappy young man, too considerate +to say the engagement was hers, not his. "You knew I was bound to Anne, +Lady Kirton." + +"Bound to a fiddlestick!" said the dowager. "Excuse my plainness, +Hartledon. When you engaged yourself to the young woman you were poor and +a nobody, and the step was perhaps excusable. Lord Hartledon is not bound +by the promises of Val Elster. All the young women in the kingdom, who +have parsons for fathers, could not oblige him to be so." + +"I am bound to her in honour; and"--in love he was going to say, but let +the words die away unspoken. + +"Hartledon, you are bound in honour to my daughter; you have sought her +affections, and gained them. Ah, Percival, don't you know that it is you +she has loved all along? In the days when I was worrying her about your +brother, she cared only for you. You cannot be so infamous as to desert +her." + +"I wish to Heaven she had never seen me!" cried the unfortunate man, +beginning to wonder whether he could break through these trammels. "I'd +sacrifice myself willingly, if that would put things straight." + +"You cannot sacrifice Maude. Look at her!" and the crafty old dowager +flourished her hand towards the fireplace, where Maude stood in all her +beauty. "A daughter of the house of Kirton cannot be taken up and cast +aside at will. What would the world say of her?" + +"The world need never know." + +"Not know!" shrieked the dowager; "not know! Why, her trousseau is +ordered, and some of the things have arrived. Good Heavens, Hartledon, +you dare not trifle with Maude in this way. You could never show your +face amongst men again." + +"But neither dare I trifle with Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon, +completely broken down by the gratuitous information. He saw that the +situation was worse than even he had bargained for, and all his +irresolution began to return upon him. "If I knew what was right +to be done, I'm sure I'd do it." + +"Right, did you say? Right? There cannot be a question about that. Which +is the more fitting to grace your coronet: Maude, or a country parson's +daughter?" + +"I'm sure if this goes on I shall shoot myself," cried Val. "Taken to +task at the Rectory, taken to task here--shooting would be bliss to it." + +"No doubt," returned the dowager. "It can't be a very pleasant position +for you. Any one but you would get out of it, and set the matter at +rest." + +"I should like to know how." + +"So long as you are a single man they naturally remain on the high ropes +at the Rectory, with their fine visions for Anne--" + +"I wish you would understand once for all, Lady Kirton, that the Ashtons +are our equals in every way," he interrupted: "and," he added, "in worth +and goodness infinitely our superiors." + +The dowager gave a sniff. "You think so, I know, Hart. Well, the only +plan to bring you peace is this: make Maude your wife. At once; without +delay." + +The proposition took away Val's breath. "I could not do it, Lady Kirton. +To begin with, they'd bring an action against me for breach of promise." + +"Breach of nonsense!" wrathfully returned the dowager. "Was ever such +a thing heard of yet, as a doctor of divinity bringing an action of that +nature? He'd lose his gown." + +"I wish I was at the bottom of a deep well, never to come up again!" +mentally aspirated the unfortunate man. + +"Will--you--marry--Maude?" demanded the dowager, with a fixed +denunciation in every word, which was as so much slow torture to her +victim. + +"I wish I could. You must see for yourself, Lady Kirton, that I cannot. +Maude must see it." + +"I see nothing of the sort. You are bound to her in honour." + +"All I can do is to remain single to the end of my days," said Val, after +a pause. "I have been a great villain to both, and I cannot repair it to +either. The one stands in the way of the other." + +"But--" + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he interrupted, so peremptorily that the old +woman trembled for her power. "This is my final decision, and I will not +hear another word. I feel ready to hang myself, as it is. You tell me I +cannot marry any other than Maude without being a scoundrel; the same +thing precisely applies to Anne. I shall remain single." + +"You will give me one promise--for Maude's sake. Not, after this, to +marry Anne Ashton." + +"Why, how can I do it?" asked he, in tones of exasperation. "Don't you +see that it is impossible? I shall not see the Ashtons again, ma'am; I +would rather go a hundred miles the other way than face them." + +The countess-dowager probably deemed she had said sufficient for safety; +for she went out and shut the door after her. Lord Hartledon dashed his +hair from his brow with a hasty hand, and was about to leave the room by +the other door, when Maude came up to him. + +"Is this to be the end of it, Percival?" + +She spoke in tones of pain, of tremulous tenderness; all her pride gone +out of her. Lord Hartledon laid his hand upon her shoulder, meeting the +dark eyes that were raised to his through tears. + +"Do you indeed love me like this, Maude? Somehow I never thought it." + +"I love you better than the whole world. I love you enough to give up +everything for you." + +The emphasis conveyed a reproach--that he did not "give up everything" +for her. But Lord Hartledon kept his head for once. + +"Heaven knows my bitter repentance. If I could repair this folly of mine +by any sacrifice on my own part, I would gladly do it. Let me go, Maude! +I have been here long enough, unless I were more worthy. I would ask you +to forgive me if I knew how to frame the petition." + +She released the hand of which she had made a prisoner--released it with +a movement of petulance; and Lord Hartledon quitted the room, the words +she had just spoken beating their refrain on his brain. It did not occur +to him in his gratified vanity to remember that Anne Ashton, about whose +love there could be no doubt, never avowed it in those pretty speeches. + +"Well?" said Mr. Carr, when he got back to the dining-room. + +"It is not well, Carr; it is ill. There can be no release. The old +dowager won't have it." + +"But surely you will not resign Miss Ashton for Lady Maude!" cried the +barrister, after a pause of amazement. + +"I resign both; I see that I cannot do anything else in honour. Excuse +me, Carr, but I'd rather not say any more about it just now; I feel half +maddened." + +"Elster's folly," mentally spoke Thomas Carr. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +AN AGREEABLE WEDDING. + + +That circumstances, combined with the countess-dowager, worked terribly +against Lord Hartledon, events proved. Had the Ashtons remained at the +Rectory all might have been well; but they went away, and he was left to +any influence that might be brought to bear upon him. + +How the climax was accomplished the world never knew. Lord Hartledon +himself did not know the whole of it for a long while. As if unwilling to +trust himself longer in dangerous companionship, he went up to town with +Thomas Carr. Whilst there he received a letter from Cannes, written by +Dr. Ashton; a letter that angered him. + +It was a cool letter, a vein of contemptuous anger running through it; +meant to be hidden, but nevertheless perceptible to Lord Hartledon. Its +purport was to forbid all correspondence between him and Miss Ashton: +things had better "remain in abeyance" until they met, ran the words, +"if indeed any relations were ever renewed between them again." + +It might have angered Lord Hartledon more than it did, but for the +hopelessness which had taken up its abode within him. Nevertheless he +resented it. He did not suppose it possible that the Ashtons could have +heard of the dilemma he was in, or that he should be unable to fulfil his +engagement with Anne, having with his usual vacillation put off any +explanation with them; which of course must come sometime. He had taken +an idea into his head long before, that Dr. Ashton wished to part them, +and he looked upon the letter as resulting from that. Hartledon was +feeling weary of the world. + +How little did he divine that the letter of the doctor was called forth +by a communication from the countess-dowager. An artful communication, +with a charming candour lying on its surface. She asked--she actually +asked that Dr. Ashton would allow "fair play;" she said the "deepest +affection" had grown up between Lord Hartledon and Lady Maude; and she +only craved that the young man might not be coerced either way, but might +be allowed to choose between them. The field after Miss Ashton's return +would be open to the two, and ought to be left so. + +You may imagine the effect this missive produced upon the proud, +high-minded doctor of divinity. He took a sheet of paper and wrote a +stinging letter to Lord Hartledon, forbidding him to think again of Anne. +But when he was in the act of sealing it a sudden doubt like an instinct +rushed over him, whether it might not be a ruse, and nothing else, of the +crafty old dowager's. The doubt was sufficiently strong to cause him to +tear up the letter. But he was not satisfied with Lord Hartledon's own +behaviour; had not been for some few months; and he then wrote a second +letter, suspending matters until they should meet again. It was in effect +what was asked for by the countess-dowager; and he wrote a cold proud +letter to that lady, stating what he had done. Of course any honourable +woman--any woman with a spark of justice in her heart--would have also +forbidden all intercourse with Lady Maude. The countess-dowager's policy +lay in the opposite direction. + +But Lord Hartledon remained in London, utterly oblivious to the hints and +baits held out for his return to Calne. He chiefly divided his time +between the House of Lords and sitting at home, lamenting over his own +ill-starred existence. He was living quite en garçon, with only one man, +his house having been let for the season. We always want what we cannot +obtain, and because marriage was denied him, he fell into the habit of +dwelling upon it as the only boon in life. Thomas Carr was on circuit, +so that Hartledon was alone. + +Easter was early that year, the latter end of March. On the Monday in +Passion-week there arrived a telegram for Lord Hartledon sent apparently +by the butler, Hedges. It was vaguely worded; spoke of a railway accident +and somebody dying. Who he could not make out, except that it was a +Kirton: and it prayed him to hasten down immediately. All his goodness of +heart aroused, Val lost not a moment. He had been engaged to spend Easter +with some people in Essex, but dispatched a line of apology, and hastened +down to Calne, wondering whether it was the dowager or Maude, and whether +death would have taken place before his arrival. + +"What accident has there been?" he demanded, leaping out of the carriage +at Calne Station; and the man he addressed happened to be the porter, +Jones. + +"Accident?" returned Jones, touching his cap. + +"An accident on the line; somewhere about here, I conclude. People +wounded; dying." + +"There has been no accident here," said Jones, in his sulky way. "Maybe +your lordship's thinking of the one on the branch line, the bridge that +fell in?" + +"Nonsense," said Lord Hartledon, "that took place a fortnight ago. I +received a telegram this morning from my butler, saying some one was +dying at Hartledon from a railway accident," he impatiently added. "I +took it to be either Lady Kirton or her daughter." + +Mr. Jones swung round a large iron key he held in his hand, and light +dawned upon him. + +"I know now," he said. "There was a private accident at the station here +last night; your lordship must mean that. A gentleman got out of a +carriage before it stopped, and fell between the rail and the platform. +His name was Kirton. I saw it on his portmanteau." + +"Lord Kirton?" + +"No, my lord. Captain Kirton." + +"Was he seriously hurt?" + +"Well, it was thought so. Mr. Hillary feared the leg would have to come +off. He was carried to Hartledon." + +Very much relieved, Lord Hartledon jumped into a fly and was driven home. +The countess-dowager embraced him and fell into hysterics. + +The crafty old dowager, whose displayed emotion was as genuine as she +was! She had sent for this son of hers, hoping he might be a decoy-duck +to draw Hartledon home again, for she was losing heart; and the accident, +which she had not bargained for, was a very god-send to her. + +"Why don't you word your telegrams more clearly, Hedges?" asked Lord +Hartledon of his butler. + +"It wasn't me worded it at all, my lord. Lady Kirton went to the station +herself. She informed me she had sent it in my name." + +"Has Hillary told you privately what the surgeons think of the case?" + +"Better of it than they did at first, my lord. They are trying to save +the leg." + +This Captain Kirton was really the best of the Kirton bunch: a quiet, +unassuming young man, somewhat delicate in health. Lord Hartledon was +grieved for his accident, and helped to nurse him with the best heart +in the world. + +And now what devilry (there were people in Calne who called it nothing +less) the old countess-dowager set afloat to secure her ends I am unable +to tell you. She was a perfectly unscrupulous woman--poverty had rendered +her wits keen; and her captured lion was only feebly struggling to escape +from the net. He was to blame also. Thrown again into the society of +Maude and her beauty, Val basked in its sunshine, and went drifting down +the stream, never heeding where the current led him. One day the +countess-dowager put it upon his honour--he must marry Maude. He might +have held out longer but for a letter that came from some friend of the +dowager's opportunely located at Cannes; a letter that spoke of the +approaching marriage of Miss Ashton to Colonel Barnaby, eldest son of a +wealthy old baronet, who was sojourning there with his mother. No doubt +was implied or expressed; the marriage was set forth as an assured fact. + +"And I believe you meant to wait for her?" said the countess-dowager, as +she put the letter into his hand, with a little laugh. "You are free now +for my darling Maude." + +"This may not be true," observed Lord Hartledon, with compressed lips. +"Every one knows what this sort of gossip is worth." + +"I happen to know that it is true," spoke Lady Kirton, in a whisper. "I +have known of it for some time past, but would not vex you with it." + +Well, she convinced him; and from that moment had it all her own way, and +carried out her plots and plans according to her own crafty fancy. Lord +Hartledon yielded; for the ascendency of Maude was strong upon him. And +yet--and yet--whilst he gave all sorts of hard names to Anne Ashton's +perfidy, lying down deep in his heart was a suspicion that the news was +not true. How he hated himself for his wicked assumption of belief in +after-years! + +"You will be free as air," said the dowager, joyously. "You and Maude +shall get ahead of Miss Ashton and her colonel, and have the laugh at +them. The marriage shall be on Saturday, and you can go away together for +months if you like, and get up your spirits again; I'm sure you have both +been dull enough." + +Lord Hartledon was certainly caught by the words "free as air;" as he had +been once before. But he stared at the early day mentioned. + +"Marriages can't be got up as soon as that." + +"They can be got up in a day if people choose, with a special license; +which, of course, you will have," said the dowager. "I'll arrange things, +my dear Val; leave it all to me. I intend Maude to be married in the +little chapel." + +"What little chapel?" + +"Your own private chapel." + +Lord Hartledon stared with all his eyes. The private chapel, built out +from the house on the side next Calne, had not been used for years and +years. + +"Why, it's all dust and rust inside; its cushions moth-eaten and fallen +to pieces." + +"Is it all dust and rust!" returned the dowager. "That shows how +observant you are. I had it put in order whilst you were in London; it +was a shame to let a sacred place remain in such a state. I should like +it to be used for Maude; and mind, I'll see to everything; you need not +give yourself any trouble at all. There's only one thing I must enjoin +on you." + +"What's that?" + +"_Secrecy._ Don't let a hint of your intentions get abroad. Whatever you +do, don't write a word to that Carr friend of yours; he's as sharp as a +two-edged sword. As well let things be done privately; it is Maude's +wish." + +"I shall not write to him," cried Hartledon, feeling a sudden heat upon +his face, "or to any one else." + +"Here's Maude. Step this way, Maude. Hartledon wants the ceremony to take +place on Saturday, and I have promised for you." + +Lady Maude advanced; she had really come in by accident; her head was +bent, her eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks. A fair prize; very, +very fair! The old dowager put her hand into Lord Hartledon's. + +"You will love her and cherish her, Percival?" + +What was the young man to do? He murmured some unintelligible assent, and +bent forward to kiss her. But not until that moment had he positively +realized the fact that there would be any marriage. + +Time went on swimmingly until the Saturday, and everything was in +progress. The old dowager deserved to be made commander of a garrison for +her comprehensive strategy, the readiness and skill she displayed in +carrying out her arrangements. For what reason, perhaps she could not +have explained to herself; but an instinct was upon her that secrecy in +all ways was necessary; at any rate, she felt surer of success whilst +it was maintained. Hence her decision in regard to the unused little +chapel; and that this one particular portion of the project had been long +floating in her mind was proved by the fact that she had previously +caused the chapel to be renovated. But that it was to serve her own turn, +she would have let it remain choked up with dust for ever. + +The special license had arrived; the young clergyman who was to perform +the service was located at Hartledon. Seven o'clock was the hour fixed +for the marriage: it would be twilight then, and dinner over. Immediately +afterwards the bride and bridegroom were to depart. So far, so good. But +Lady Kirton was not to have it quite her own way on this same Saturday, +although she had enjoyed it hitherto. + +A rumour reached her ears in the afternoon that Dr. Ashton was at the +Rectory. The doctor had been spending Easter at Cannes, and the dowager +had devoutly prayed that he might not yet return. The news turned her +cheeks blue and yellow; a prevision rushing over her that if he and Lord +Hartledon met there might be no wedding after all. She did her best to +keep Lord Hartledon indoors, and the fact of the Rector's return from +him. + +Now who is going to defend Lord Hartledon? Not you or I. More foolish, +more culpable weakness was never shown than in thus yielding to these +schemes. Though ensnared by Maude's beauty, that was no excuse for him. + +An accident--or what may be called one--delayed dinner. Two county +friends of Hartledon's, jolly fox-hunters in the season, had come riding +a long way across country, and looked in to beg some refreshment. The +dowager fumed, and was not decently civil; but she did not see her way to +turning them out. + +They talked and laughed and ate; and dinner was indefinitely prolonged. +When the dowager and Lady Maude rose from table the former cast a meaning +look at Lord Hartledon. "Get rid of them as soon as you can," it plainly +said. + +But the fox-hunters liked good drinking as well as good eating, and sat +on, enjoying their wine; their host, one of the most courteous of living +men, giving no sign, by word or look, that he wished for their departure. +He was rather silent, they observed; but the young clergyman, who made +the fourth at the table, was voluble by nature. Captain Kirton had not +yet left his sick bed. + +Lady Maude sat alone in her room; the white robes upon her, the orthodox +veil, meant to shade her fair face thrown back from it. She had sent away +her attendants, bolted the door against her mother, and sat waiting her +summons. Waiting and thinking. Her cheek rested on her hand, and her +eyes were dreamy. + +Is it true that whenever we are about to do an ill or unjust deed a +shadow of the fruits it will bring comes over us as a warning? Some +people will tell you so. A vision of the future seemed to rest on Maude +Kirton as she sat there; and for the first time all the injustice of the +approaching act rose in her mind as a solemn omen. The true facts were +terribly distinct. Her own dislike (it was indeed no less than dislike) +of the living lord, her lasting love for the dead one. All the miserable +stratagems they had been guilty of to win him; the dishonest plotting and +planning. What was she about to do? For her own advancement, to secure +herself a position in the great world, and not for love, she was about to +separate two hearts, which but for her would have been united in this +world and the next. She was thrusting herself upon Lord Hartledon, +knowing that in his true heart it was another that he loved, not her. +Yes, she knew that full well. He admired her beauty, and was marrying +her; marrying partly in pique against Anne Ashton; partly in blindfold +submission to the deep schemes of her mother, brought to bear on his +yielding nature. All the injustice done to Anne Ashton was in that moment +beating its refrain upon her heart; and a thought crossed her--would God +not avenge it? Another time she might have smiled at the thought as +fanciful: it seemed awfully real now. "I might give Val up yet," she +murmured; "there's just time." + +She did not act upon the suggestion. Whether it was her warning, or +whether it was not, she allowed it to slip from her. Hartledon's broad +lands and coronet resumed their fascination over her soul; and when her +door was tried, Lady Maude had lost herself in that famous Spanish +château we have all occupied on occasion, touching the alterations she +had mentally planned in their town-house. + +"Goodness, Maude, what do you lock yourself in for?" + +Maude opened the door, and the countess-dowager floundered in. She was +resplendent in one of her old yellow satin gowns, a white turban with a +silver feather, and a pink scarf thrown on for ornament. The colours +would no doubt blend well by candlelight. + +"Come, Maude. There's no time to be lost." + +"Are the men gone?" + +"Yes, they are gone; no thanks to Hartledon, though. He sat mooning on, +never giving them the least hint to depart. Priddon told me so. I'll tell +you what it is, Maude, you'll have to shake your husband out of no end of +ridiculous habits." + +"It is growing dark," exclaimed Maude, as she stepped into the corridor. + +"Dark! of course it's dark," was the irascible answer; "and they have had +to light up the chapel, or Priddon couldn't have seen to read his book. +And all through those confounded fox-hunters!" + +Lord Hartledon was not in the drawing-room, where Lady Kirton had left +him only a minute before; and she looked round sharply. + +"Has he gone on to the chapel?" she asked of the young clergyman. + +"No, I think not," replied Mr. Priddon, who was already in his +canonicals. "Hedges came in and said something to him, and they went out +together." + +A minute or two of impatience--she was in no mood to wait long--and then +she rang the bell. It should be remarked that the old lady, either from +excitement or some apprehension of failure, was shaking and jumping as if +she had St. Vitus's dance. Hedges came in. + +"Where's your master?" she tartly asked. + +"With Mr. Carr, my lady." + +"With Mr.--What did you say?" + +"My lord is with Mr. Carr. He has just arrived." + +A moment given to startled consternation and then the fury broke forth. +The young parson had never had the pleasure of seeing one of these +war-dances before, and backed against the wall in his starched surplice. + +"What brings him here? How dare he come uninvited?" + +"I heard him say, my lady, that finding he had a Sunday to spare, he +thought he would come and pass it at Hartledon," said the well-trained +Hedges. + +Ere the words had left his lips Lord Hartledon and Mr. Carr were present; +the latter in a state of utter amazement and in his travelling dress, +having only removed his overcoat. + +"You'll be my groomsman, Carr," said Hartledon. "We have no adherents; +this is a strictly private affair." + +"Did you send for Mr. Carr?" whispered the countess-dowager, looking +white through her rouge. + +"No; his coming has taken me by surprise," replied Hartledon, with a +nervousness he could not wholly conceal. + +They passed rapidly through the passages, marshalled by Hedges. Lord +Hartledon led his bride, the countess-dowager walked with the clergyman, +and Mr. Carr brought up the rear. The latter gentleman was wondering +whether he had fallen into a dream that he should wake up from in the +morning. The mode of procession was a little out of the common order of +such affairs; but so was the marriage. + +Now it happened, not very long before this, that Dr. Ashton was on his +way home from a visit to a sick parishioner--a poor man, who said he +believed life had been prolonged in him that his many years' minister +should be at his deathbed. Dr. Ashton's road lay beyond Hartledon, and +in returning he crossed the road, which brought him out near the river, +between Hartledon and the Rectory. Happening to cast his eyes that way, +he saw a light where he had never seen one before--in the little unused +chapel. Peering through the trees at the two low diamond-paned windows, +to make sure he was not mistaken, Dr. Ashton quickened his pace: his +thoughts glancing at fire. + +He was well acquainted with Hartledon; and making his way in by the +nearest entrance, he dashed along the passages to the chapel, meeting at +length one of the servants. + +"John," he panted, quite out of breath with hurrying, "there's a light in +the chapel. I fear it is on fire." + +"Not at all, sir," replied the man. "We have been lighting it up for my +lord's marriage. They have just gone in." + +"Lighting it up for what?" exclaimed Dr. Ashton. + +"For my lord's marriage, sir. He's marrying Lady Maude. It's the old +dowager, sir, who has got it up in this queer way," continued the man, +venturing on a little confidential gossip with his Rector. + +Dr. Ashton paused to collect his wits ere he walked into the chapel. The +few wax-candles the servants had been able to put about only served to +make the gloom visible. The party were taking their places, the young +clergyman directing them where to stand. He opened his book and was +commencing, when a hand was laid upon Hartledon's shoulder. + +"Lord Hartledon, what is the meaning of this?" + +Lord Hartledon recognised the voice, and broke into a cold perspiration. +He gave no answer; but the countess-dowager made up for his silence. Her +temper, none of the mildest, had been considerably exasperated by the +visit of the fox-hunters; it was made worse by the arrival of Mr. Carr. +When she turned and saw what _this_ formidable interruption was, she lost +it altogether, as few, calling themselves gentlewomen, can lose it. As +she peered into the face of Dr. Ashton, her own was scarlet and yellow, +and her voice rose to a shriek. + +"You prying parson, where did you spring from? Are you not ashamed +to dodge Lord Hartledon in his own house? You might be taken up and +imprisoned for it." + +"Lord Hartledon," said Dr. Ashton, "I--" + +"How dare you persist, I ask you?" shrieked the old woman, whilst +the young clergyman stood aghast, and Mr. Carr folded his arms, and +resolutely fixed his eyes on the floor. "Because Hartledon once had a +flirtation with your daughter, does that give you leave to haunt him as +if you were his double?" + +"Madam," said Dr. Ashton, contriving still to subdue his anger, "I must, +I will speak to Lord Hartledon. Allow me to do so without disturbance. +Lord Hartledon, I wait for an answer: Are you about to marry this young +lady?" + +"Yes, he is," foamed the dowager; "I tell you so. Now then?" + +"Then, madam," proceeded the doctor, "this marriage owes its rise to you. +You will do well to consider whether you are doing them a kindness or an +injury in permitting it. You have deliberately set yourself to frustrate +the hopes of Lord Hartledon and my daughter: will a marriage, thus +treacherously entered into, bring happiness with it?" + +"Oh, you wicked man!" cried the dowager. "You would like to call a curse +upon them." + +"No," shuddered Dr. Ashton; "if a curse ever attends them, it will not +be through any wish of mine. Lord Hartledon, I knew you as a boy; I have +loved you as a son; and if I speak now, it is as your pastor, and for +your own sake. This marriage looks very like a clandestine one, as though +you were ashamed of the step you are taking, and dared not enter on it in +the clear face of day. I would have you consider that this sort of +proceeding does not usually bring a blessing with it." + +If ever Val felt convicted of utter cowardice, he felt so then. All the +wretched sophistry by which he had been beguiled into the step, by which +he had beguiled himself; all the iniquity of his past conduct to Miss +Ashton, rose up before his mind in its naked truth. He dared not reply to +the doctor for very shame. A sorry figure he cut, standing there, Lady +Maude beside him. + +"The last time you entered my house, Lord Hartledon, it was to speak of +your coming marriage with Anne--" + +"And you would like him to go there again and arrange it," interrupted +the incensed dowager, whose head had begun to nod so vehemently that she +could not stop it. "Oh yes, I dare say!" + +"By what right have you thus trifled with her?" continued the Rector, +ignoring the nodding woman and her words, and confronting Lord Hartledon. +"Is it a light matter, think you, to gain a maiden's best love, and then +to desert her for a fresh face? You have been playing fast-and-loose for +some little time: and I gave you more than one opportunity of retiring, +if you so willed it--of openly retiring, you understand; not of doing so +in this secret, disreputable manner. Your conscience will prick you in +after-life, unless I am mistaken." + +Val opened his lips, but the Rector put up his hand. + +"A moment yet. That I am not endeavouring to recall Anne's claims on you +in saying this, I am sure you are perfectly aware, knowing me as you do. +I never deemed you worthy of her--you know that, Lord Hartledon; and you +never were so. Were you a free man at this moment, and went down on your +knees to implore me to give you Anne, I would not do it. You have +forfeited her; you have forfeited the esteem of all good men. But that +I am a Christian minister, I should visit your dishonour upon you as you +deserve." + +"Will you cease?" raved the dowager; and Dr. Ashton wheeled round upon +her. + +"There is less excuse for your past conduct, madam, than for his. You +have played on Lord Hartledon's known irresolution to mould him to your +will. I see now the aim of the letter you favoured me with at Cannes, +when you requested, with so much candour, that he might be left for a +time unfettered by any correspondence with Miss Ashton. Well, you have +obtained your ends. Your covetous wish that you and your daughter should +reign at Hartledon is on the point of being gratified. The honour of +marrying Lady Maude was intended both by you and her for the late Lord +Hartledon. Failing him, you transferred your hopes to the present one, +regardless of who suffered, or what hearts or honour might be broken in +the process." + +"Will nobody put this disreputable parson outside?" raved the dowager. + +"I do not seek to bring reproach home to you; let that, ladies, lie +between yourselves and conscience. I only draw your attention to the +facts; which have been sufficiently patent to the world, whatever Lord +Hartledon may think. And now I have said my say, and leave you; but I +declare that were I performing this burlesque of a marriage, as that +young clergyman is about to do, I should feel my prayers for the divine +blessing to attend it were but a vain mockery." + +He turned to leave the chapel with quick steps, when Lord Hartledon, +shaking off Maude, darted forward and caught his arm. + +"You will tell me one thing at least: Is Anne _not_ going to marry +Colonel Barnaby?" + +"Sir!" thundered the doctor. "Going to marry _whom_?" + +"I heard it," he faltered. "I believed it to be the truth." + +"You may have heard it, but you did not believe it, Lord Hartledon. You +knew Anne better. Do not add this false excuse to the rest." + +Pleasant! Infinitely so for the bridegroom's tingling ears. Dr. Ashton +walked out of the chapel, and Val stood for a few moments where he was, +looking up and down in the dim light. It might be that in his mental +confusion he was deliberating what his course should be; but thought and +common sense came to him, and he knew he could not desert Lady Maude, +having brought matters so far to an end. + +"Proceed," he said to the young clergyman, stalking back to the altar. +"Get--it--over quickly." + +Mr. Carr unfolded his arms and approached Lord Hartledon. He was the only +one who had caught the expression of the bride's face when Hartledon +dropped her arm. It spoke of bitter malice; it spoke, now that he had +returned to her, of an evil triumph; and it occurred to Thomas Carr to +think that he should not like a wife of his to be seen with that +expression on her bridal face. + +"Lord Hartledon, you must excuse me if I do not remain to countenance +this wedding," he said in low but distinct tones. "Before hearing what I +have heard from that good man, I had hesitated about it; but I was lost +in surprise. Fare you well. I shall have left by the time you quit the +chapel." + +He held out his hand, and Val mechanically shook it. The retreating steps +of Mr. Carr, following in the wake of Dr. Ashton, were heard, as Lord +Hartledon spoke again to the clergyman with irritable sharpness: + +"Why don't you begin?" + +And the countess-dowager fanned herself complacently, and neither she nor +Maude cared for the absence of a groomsman. But Maude was not quite +hardened yet; and the shame of her situation was tingeing her eyelids. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE STRANGER. + + +Lord Hartledon was leading his bride through the chapel at the conclusion +of the ceremony, when his attention was caught by something outside one +of the windows. At first he thought it was a black cat curled up in some +impossible fashion, but soon saw it was a dark human face. And that face +he discovered to be Mr. Pike's, peering earnestly in. + +"Hedges, send that man away. How dare he intrude himself in this manner? +How has he got up to the window?" + +For these windows were high beyond the ordinary height of man. Hedges +went out, a sharp reprimand on his tongue, and found that Mr. Pike had +been at the trouble of carrying a heap of stones from a distance and +piling them up to stand upon. + +"Well, you must have a curiosity!" he exclaimed, in his surprise. "Just +put those stones back in their places, and take yourself away." + +"You are right," said the man. "I have a curiosity in all that concerns +the new lord. But I am going away now." + +He leaped down as he spoke, and began to replace the stones. Hedges went +in again. + +The carriage, waiting to convey them away, was already at the door, the +impatient horses pawing the ground. Maude changed her dress with all +speed; and in driving down the road by starlight they overtook Thomas +Carr, carrying his own portmanteau. Lord Hartledon let down the window +impulsively, as if he would have spoken, but seemed to recollect himself, +and drew it up again. + +"What is it?" asked Maude. + +"Mr. Carr." + +It was the first word he had spoken to her since the ceremony. His +silence had frightened her: what if he should resent on _her_ the cruel +words spoken by Dr. Ashton? Sick, trembling, her beautiful face humble +and tearful enough now, she bent it on his shoulder in a shower of bitter +tears. + +"Oh, Percival, Percival! surely you are not going to punish me for what +has passed?" + +A moment's struggle with himself, and he turned and took both her hands +in his. + +"It may be that neither of us is free from blame, Maude, in regard to the +past. All we can now do, as it seems to me, is to forget it together, and +make the best of the future." + +"And you will forget Anne Ashton?" she whispered. + +"Of course I shall forget her. I ask nothing better than to forget her +from this moment. I have made _you_ my wife; and I will try to make your +happiness." + +He bent and kissed her face. Maude, in some restlessness, as it seemed, +withdrew to her own corner of the carriage and cried softly; and Lord +Hartledon let down the glass again to look back after Thomas Carr and his +portmanteau in the starlight. + +The only perfectly satisfied person was the countess-dowager. All the +little annoying hindrances went for nothing now that the desired end +was accomplished, and she was in high feather when she bade adieu to the +amiable young clergyman, who had to depart that night for his curacy, +ten miles away, to be in readiness for the morrow's services. + +"If you please, my lady, Captain Kirton has been asking for you once or +twice," said Hedges, entering the dowager's private sitting-room. + +"Then Captain Kirton must ask," retorted the dowager, who was sitting +down to her letters, which she had left unopened since their arrival in +the morning, in her anxiety for other interests. "Hedges, I should like +some supper: I had only a scrambling sort of dinner. You can bring it up +here. Something nice; and a bottle of champagne." + +Hedges withdrew with the order, and Lady Kirton applied herself to her +letters. The first she opened was from the daughter who had married the +French count. It told a pitiful tale of distress, and humbly craved to be +permitted to come over on a fortnight's visit, she and her two sickly +children, "for a little change." + +"I dare say!" emphatically cried the dowager. "What next? No, thank you, +my lady; now that I have at least a firm footing in this house--as that +blessed parson said--I am not going to risk it by filling it with every +bothering child I possess. Bob departs as soon as his leg's well. Why +what's this?" + +She had come upon a concluding line as she was returning the letter to +the envelope. "P.S. If I don't hear from you _very_ decisively to the +contrary, I shall come, and trust to your good nature to forgive it. I +want to see Bob." + +"Oh, that's it, is it!" said the dowager. "She means to come, whether I +will or no. That girl always had enough impudence for a dozen." + +Drawing a sheet of paper out of her desk, she wrote a few rapid lines. + + "Dear Jane, + + "For _mercy's_ sake keep those _poor_ children and yourself _away_! We + have had an _aweful infectious fever_ rageing in the place, which it + was thought to be _cured_, but it's on the break _out_ again-several + _deaths_, Hartledon and Maude (_married_ of course) have gone out of + its reach and I'm thinking of it if _Bob's_ leg which is _better_ + permits. You'd not like I dare say to see the children in a _coffin + apiece_ and yourself in a _third_, as might be the end. _Small-pox_ is + raging at _Garchester_ a neighbouring town, that _will_ be awful if it + gets to _us_ and I _hear_ it's on the _road_ and with kind love + _believe_ me your affectionate_ + + "MOTHER. + + "P.S. I am sorry for _what_ you tell me about _Ugo_ and the _state_ + of affairs chey vous. But you know you _would marry_ him so there's + _nobody_ to blame. Ah! _Maude_ has gone by _my_ advice and done as _I_ + said and the consequence is _she's_ a peeress for life and got a + handsome young husband _without_ a _will_ of his own." + +The countess-dowager was not very adroit at spelling and composition, +whether French or English, as you observe. She made an end of her +correspondence, and sat down to a delicious little supper alone; as she +best liked to enjoy these treats. The champagne was excellent, and she +poured out a full tumbler of it at once, by way of wishing good luck to +Maude's triumphant wedding. + +"And it _is_ a triumph!" she said, as she put down the empty glass. "I +hope it will bring Jane and the rest to a sense of _their_ folly." + +A triumph? If you could only have looked into the future, Lady Kirton! +A triumph! + +The above was not the only letter written that evening. At the hotel +where Lord and Lady Hartledon halted for the night, when she had retired +under convoy of her maid, then Val's restrained remorse broke out. He +paced the room in a sort of mad restlessness; in the midst of which he +suddenly sat down to a table on which lay pens, ink, and paper, and +poured forth hasty sentences in his mind's wretched tumult. + + "My Dear Mrs. Ashton, + + "I cannot address you in any more formal words, although you will have + reason to fling down the letter at my presuming to use these now--for + dear, most dear, you will ever be to me. + + "What can I say? Why do I write to you? Indeed to the latter question I + can only answer I do not know, save that some instinct of good feeling, + not utterly dead within me, is urging me to it. + + "Will you let me for a moment throw conventionality aside; will you for + that brief space of time let me speak truly and freely to you, as one + might speak who has passed the confines of this world? + + "When a man behaves to a woman as I, to my eternal shame, have this day + behaved to Anne, it is, I think, a common custom to regard the false + man as having achieved a sort of triumph; to attribute somewhat of + humiliation to the other. + + "Dear Mrs. Ashton, I cannot sleep until I have said to you that in my + case the very contrary is the fact. A more abject, humiliated man than + I stand at this hour in my own eyes never yet took his sins upon his + soul. Even you might be appeased if you could look into mine and see + its sense of degradation. + + "That my punishment has already come home to me is only just; that I + shall have to conceal it from all the world, including my wife, will + not lessen its sting. + + "I have this evening married Maude Kirton. I might tell you of unfair + play brought to bear upon me, of a positive assurance, apparently well + grounded, that Anne had entered into an engagement to wed another, + could I admit that these facts were any excuse for me. They are no + excuse; not the slightest palliation. My own yielding folly alone is + to blame, and I shall take shame to myself for ever. + + "I write this to you as I might have written it to my own mother, were + she living; not as an expiation; only to tell of my pain; that I am not + utterly hardened; that I would sue on my knees for pardon, were it not + shut out from me by my own act. There is no pardon for such as I. When + you have torn it in pieces, you will, I trust, forget the writer. + + "God bless you, dear Mrs. Ashton! God bless and comfort another who is + dear to you!--and believe me with true undying remorse your once + attached friend, + + "Hartledon." + +It was a curious letter to write; but men of Lord Hartledon's sensitive +temperament in regard to others' feelings often do strange things; things +the world at large would stare at in their inability to understand them. +The remorse might not have come home to him quite so soon as this, his +wedding-day, but for the inopportune appearance of Dr. Ashton in the +chapel, speaking those words that told home so forcibly. Such reproach +on these vacillating men inflicts a torture that burns into the heart +like living fire. + +He sealed the letter, addressing it to Cannes; called a waiter, late as +it was, and desired him to post it. And then he walked about the room, +reflecting on the curse of his life--his besetting sin--irresolution. It +seemed almost an anomaly for _him_ to make resolves; but he did make one +then; that he would, with the help of Heaven, be a MAN from henceforth, +however it might crucify his sensitive feelings. And for the future, the +obligation he had that day taken upon himself he determined to fulfil to +his uttermost in all honour and love; to cherish his wife as he would +have cherished Anne Ashton. For the past--but Lord Hartledon rose up now +with a start. There was one item of that past he dared not glance at, +which did not, however, relate to Miss Ashton: and it appeared inclined +to thrust itself prominently forward to-night. + +Could Lord Hartledon have borrowed somewhat of the easy indifference of +the countess-dowager, he had been a happier man. That lady would have +made a female Nero, enjoying herself while Rome was burning. She remained +on in her snug quarters at Hartledon, and lived in clover. + +One evening, rather more than a week after the marriage, Hedges had been +on an errand to Calne, and was hastening home. In the lonely part of the +road near Hartledon, upon turning a sharp corner, he came upon Mirrable, +who was standing talking to Pike, very much to the butler's surprise. +Pike walked away at once; and the butler spoke. + +"He is not an acquaintance of yours, that man, Mrs. Mirrable?" + +"Indeed no," she answered, tossing her head. "It was like his impudence +to stop me. Rather flurried me too," she continued: and indeed Hedges +noticed that she seemed flurried. + +"What did he stop you for? To beg?" + +"Not that. I've never heard that he does beg. He accosted me with a cool +question as to when his lordship was coming back to Hartledon. I answered +that it could not be any business of his. And then you came up." + +"He is uncommon curious as to my lord. I can't make it out. I've seen him +prowling about the grounds: and the night of the marriage he was mounted +up at the chapel window. Lord Hartledon saw him, too. I should like to +know what he wants." + +"By a half-word he let drop, I fancy he has a crotchet in his head that +his lordship will find him some work when he comes home. But I must go on +my way," added Mirrable. "Mrs. Gum's not well, and I sent word I'd look +in for half-an-hour this evening." + +Hedges had to go on his way also, for it was close upon the +countess-dowager's dinner-hour, at which ceremony he must attend. Putting +his best foot forward, he walked at more than an ordinary pace, and +overtook a gentleman almost at the very door of Hartledon. The stranger +was approaching the front entrance, Hedges was wheeling off to the back; +but the former turned and spoke. A tall, broad-shouldered, grey-haired +man, with high cheek-bones. Hedges took him for a clergyman from his +attire; black, with a white neckcloth. + +"This is Hartledon House, I believe," he said, speaking with a Scotch +accent. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you belong to it?" + +"I am Lord Hartledon's butler." + +"Is Lord Hartledon at home?" + +"No, sir. He is in France." + +"I read a notice of his marriage in the public papers," continued the +stranger, whose eyes were fixed on Hedges. "It was, I suppose, a correct +one?" + +"My lord was married the week before last: about ten or eleven days ago." + +"Ay; April the fourteenth, the paper said. She is one of the Kirton +family. When do you expect him home?" + +"I don't know at all, sir. I've not heard anything about it." + +"He is in France, you say, Paris, I suppose. Can you furnish me with his +address?" + +Up to this point the colloquy had proceeded smoothly on both sides: but +it suddenly flashed into the mind of Hedges that the stranger's manner +was somewhat mysterious, though in what the mystery lay he could not have +defined. The communicative man, true to the interests of his master, +became cautious at once: he supposed some of Lord Hartledon's worries, +contracted when he was Mr. Elster, were returning upon him. + +"I cannot give his address, sir. And for the matter of that, it might not +be of use if I could. Lord and Lady Hartledon did not intend remaining +any length of time in one place." + +The stranger had dug the point of his umbrella into the level greensward +that bounded the gravel, and swayed the handle about with his hand, +pausing in thought. + +"I have come a long way to see Lord Hartledon," he observed. "It might be +less trouble and cost for me to go on to Paris and see him there, than to +start back for home, and come here again when he returns to England. Are +you sure you can't give me his address?" + +"I'm very sorry I can't, sir. There was a talk of their going on to +Switzerland," continued Hedges, improvising the journey, "and so coming +back through Germany; and there _was_ a talk of their making Italy before +the heat came on, and stopping there. Any way, sir, I dare say they are +already away from Paris." + +The stranger regarded Hedges attentively, rather to the discomfiture of +that functionary, who thought he was doubted. He then asked a great many +questions, some about Lord Hartledon's personal habits, some about Lady +Maude: the butler answered them freely or cautiously, as he thought he +might, feeling inclined all the while to chase the intruder off the +premises. Presently he turned his attention on the house. + +"A fine old place, this, Mr. Butler." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I suppose I could look over it, if I wished?" + +Hedges hesitated. He was privately asking himself whether the law would +allow the stranger, if he had come after any debt of Lord Hartledon's, to +refuse to leave the house, once he got into it. + +"I could ask Lady Kirton, sir, if you particularly wished it." + +"Lady Kirton? You have some one in the house, then!" + +"The Dowager Lady Kirton's here, sir. One of her sons also--Captain +Kirton; but he is confined to his room." + +"Then I would rather not go in," said the stranger quickly. "I'm very +disappointed to have come all this way and not find Lord Hartledon." + +"Can I forward any letter for you, sir? If you'd like to intrust one to +me, I'll send it as soon as we know of any certain address." + +"No--no, I think not," said the stranger, musingly. "There might be +danger," he muttered to himself, but Hedges caught the words. + +He stood swaying the umbrella-handle about, looking down at it, as if +that would assist his decision. Then he looked at Hedges. + +"My business with Lord Hartledon is quite private, and I would rather not +write. I'll wait until he is back in England: and see him then." + +"What name, sir?" asked Hedges, as the stranger turned away. + +"I would prefer not to leave my name," was the candid answer. "Good +evening." + +He walked briskly down the avenue, and Hedges stood looking after him, +slightly puzzled in his mind. + +"I don't believe it's a creditor; that I don't. He looks like a parson to +me. But it's some trouble though, if it's not debt. 'Danger' was the +word: 'there might be danger.' Danger in writing, he meant. Any way, I'm +glad he didn't go in to that ferreting old dowager. And whatever it may +be, his lordship's able to pay it now." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A CHANCE MEETING. + + +Some few weeks went by. On a fine June morning Lord and Lady Hartledon +were breakfasting at their hotel in the Rue Rivoli. She was listlessly +playing with her cup; he was glancing over _Galignani's_. + +"Maude," he suddenly exclaimed, "the fountains are to play on Sunday at +Versailles. Will you go to see them?" + +"I am tired of sight-seeing, and tired of Paris too," was Lady +Hartledon's answer, spoken with apathy. + +"Are you?" he returned, with animation, as though not sorry to hear the +avowal. "Then we won't stay in Paris any longer. When shall we leave?" + +"Are the letters not late this morning?" she asked, allowing the question +to pass. + +Lord Hartledon glanced at the clock. "Very late: and we are late also. +Are you expecting any in particular?" + +"I don't know. This chocolate is cold." + +"That is easily remedied," said he, rising to ring the bell. "They can +bring in some fresh." + +"And keep us waiting half-an-hour!" she grumbled. + +"The hotel is crammed up to the mansarde," said good-natured Lord +Hartledon, who was easily pleased, and rather tolerant of neglect in +French hotels. "Is not that the right word, Maude? You took me to task +yesterday for saying garret. The servants are run off their legs." + +"Then the hotel should keep more servants. I am quite sick of having to +ring twice. A week ago I wished I was out of the place." + +"My dear Maude, why did you not say so? If you'd like to go on at once to +Germany--" + +"Lettres et journal pour monsieur," interrupted a waiter, entering with +two letters and the _Times_. + +"One for you, Maude," handing a letter to his wife. "Don't go," he +continued to the waiter; "we want some more chocolate; this is cold. Tell +him in French, Maude." + +But Lady Hartledon did not hear; or if she heard, did not heed; she was +already absorbed in the contents of her letter. + +"Ici," said Hartledon, pushing the chocolate-pot towards the man, and +rallying the best French he could command, "encore du chocolat. Toute +froide, _this_. Et puis dépêchez vous; il est tarde, et nous avons besoin +de sortir." + +The man was accustomed to the French of Englishmen, and withdrew without +moving a muscle of his face. But Lady Hartledon's ears had been set on +edge. + +"_Don't_ attempt French again, Val. They'll understand you if you speak +in English." + +"Did I make any mistake?" he asked good-humouredly. "I could speak French +once; but am out of practice. It's the genders bother one." + +"Fine French it must have been!" thought her ladyship. "Who is your +letter from?" + +"My bankers, I think. About Germany, Maude--would you like to go there?" + +"Yes. Later. After we have been to London." + +"To London!" + +"We will go to London at once, Percival; stay there for the rest of the +season, and then--" + +"My dear," he interrupted, his face overcast, "the season is nearly over. +It will be of no use going there now." + +"Plenty of use. We shall have quite six weeks of it. Don't look cross, +Val; I have set my heart upon it." + +"But have you considered the difficulties? In the first place, we have no +house in town; in the second--" + +"Oh yes we have: a very good house." + +Lord Hartledon paused, and looked at her; he thought she was joking. +"Where is it?" he asked in merry tones; "at the top of the Monument?" + +"It is in Piccadilly," she coolly replied. "Do you remember, some days +ago, I read out an advertisement of a house that was to be let there for +the remainder of the season, and remarked that it would suit us?" + +"That it might suit us, had we wanted one," put in Val. + +"I wrote off at once to mamma, and begged her to see after it and engage +it for us," she continued, disregarding her husband's amendment. "She now +tells me she has done so, and ordered servants up from Hartledon. By the +time this letter reaches me she says it will be in readiness." + +Lord Hartledon in his astonishment could scarcely find words to reply. +"You wrote--yourself--and ordered the house to be taken?" + +"Yes. You are difficult to convince, Val." + +"Then I think it was your duty to have first consulted me, Lady Maude," +he said, feeling deeply mortified. + +"Thank you," she laughed. "I have not been Lady Maude this two months." + +"I beg your pardon, Lady Hartledon." + +"Now don't pretend to be offended, Val. I have only saved you trouble." + +"Maude," he said, rallying his good humour, "it was not right. Let +us--for Heaven's sake let us begin as we mean to go on: our interests +must be _one_, not separate. Why did you not tell me you wished to return +to London, and allow me to see after an abode for us? It would have been +the proper way." + +"Well, the truth is, I saw you did not want to go; you kept holding back +from it; and if I _had_ spoken you would have shillyshallied over it +until the season was over. Every one I know is in London now." + +The waiter entered with the fresh chocolate, and retired again. Lord +Hartledon was standing at the window then. His wife went up to him, and +stole her hand within his arm. + +"I'm sorry if I have offended you, Val. It's no great matter to have +done." + +"I think it was, Maude. However--don't act for yourself in future; let me +know your wishes. I do not think you have expressed a wish, or half a +wish, since our marriage, but I have felt a pleasure in gratifying it." + +"You good old fellow! But I am given to having a will of my own, and to +act independently. I'm like mamma in that. Val, we will start to-morrow: +have you any orders for the servants? I can transmit them through mamma." + +"I have no orders. This is your expedition, Maude, not mine; and, I +assure you, I feel like a man in utter darkness in regard to it. Allow +me to see your mother's letter." + +Lady Hartledon had put the letter safely into her pocket. + +"I would rather not, Percival: it contains a few private words to myself, +and mamma has always an objection to her letters being shown. I'll read +you all necessary particulars. You must let me have some money to-day." + +"How much?" asked he, from between his compressed lips. + +"Oceans. I owe for millinery and things. And, Val, I'll go to Versailles +this afternoon, if you like. I want to see some of the rooms again." + +"Very well," he answered. + +She poured out some chocolate, took it hurriedly, and quitted the room, +leaving her husband in a disheartening reverie. That Lady Hartledon and +Maude Kirton were two very distinct persons he had discovered already; +the one had been all gentleness and childlike suavity, the other was +positive, extravagant, and self-willed; the one had made a pretence of +loving him beyond all other things in life, the other was making very +little show of loving him at all, or of concealing her indifference. +Lord Hartledon was not the only husband who has been disagreeably +astonished by a similar metamorphosis. + +The following was the letter of the countess-dowager: + + "Darling Maude, + + "I have _secured_ the _house_ you write about and send by this _post_ + for Hedges and a few of the rest from _Hartledon_. It won't accommodate + a large _establishment_ I can tell you and you'll be _disappointed_ + when you come over to take _possession_ which you can do when you + _choose_. Val was a _fool_ for letting his town house in the spring but + of course we know he is _one_ and must put up with it. Whatever you + _do_, don't _consult_ him about _any earthly thing_ take _your own + way_, he never did have _much_ of a will and you must let him _have + none_ for the future. You've got a splendid _chance_ can spend _what + you like_ and rule in _society_ and he'll subside into a _tame + spaniel_. + + "Maude if you are such an idiot I'll _shake_ you. Find you've made a + _dredful_ mistake?--can't bear your husband?--keep thinking always of + _Edward_? A child might write such utter _rubish_ but not you, what + does it matter whether one's husband is _liked_ or _disliked_, provided + he gives one _position_ and _wealth_? Go to Amiens and stop with _Jane_ + for a _week_ and see her _plight_ and then grumble at your own, you + _are_ an idiot. + + "I'm quite _glad_ about your taking this town-_house_, and shall enter + into _posession_ myself as soon as the servants are up, and await you. + _Bob's_ quite _well_ and joins to-day and of course _gives up_ his + lodgings, which have been _wretchedly confined_ and uncomfortable and + where I should have gone to but for this _move_ of yours I don't know. + Mind you bring me over a Parisian _bonnet_ or two or some articles of + that _sort_. I'm nearly in _rags_, Kirton's as undutiful as he _can_ be + but it's that _wife_ of his. + + "Your affectionate mother, + + "C. Kirton." + +The letter will give you some guide to the policy of Maude Hartledon +since her marriage. She did find she had made a mistake. She cared no +more for her husband now than she had cared for him before; and it was a +positive fact that she despised him for walking so tamely into the snare +laid for him by herself and her mother. Nevertheless she triumphed; he +had made her a peeress, and she did care for that; she cared also for the +broad lands of Hartledon. That she was unwise in assuming her own will so +promptly, with little regard to consulting his, she might yet discover. + +At Versailles that day--to which place they went in accordance with +Maude's wish--there occurred a rencontre which Lord Hartledon would +willingly have gone to the very ends of the earth to avoid. It happened +to be rather full for Versailles; many of the visitors in Paris +apparently having taken it into their minds to go; indeed, Maude's wish +was induced by the fact that some of her acquaintances in the gay capital +were going also. + +You may possibly remember a very small room in the galleries, exceedingly +small as compared with the rest, chiefly hung with English portraits. +They were in this room, amidst the little crowd that filled it, when Lord +Hartledon became aware that his wife had encountered some long-lost +friend. There was much greeting and shaking of hands. He caught the +name--Kattle; and being a somewhat singular name, he recognised it for +that of the lady who had been sojourning at Cannes, and had sent the news +of Miss Ashton's supposed engagement to the countess-dowager. There was +the usual babble on both sides--where each was staying, had been staying, +would be staying; and then Lord Hartledon heard the following words from +Mrs. Kattle. + +"How strange I should have seen you! I have met you, the Fords, and the +Ashtons here, and did not know that any of you were in Paris. It's true +I only arrived yesterday. Such a long illness, my dear, I had at Turin!" + +"The Ashtons!" involuntarily repeated Maude. "Are they here?--in the +château?" And it instantly occurred to her how she should like to meet +them, and parade her triumph. If ever a spark of feeling for her husband +arose within Maude's heart, it was when she thought of Anne Ashton. She +was bitterly jealous of her still. + +"Yes, here; I saw them not three minutes ago. They are only now on their +road home from Cannes. Fancy their making so long a stay!" + +"You wrote mamma word that Miss Ashton was about to marry some Colonel +Barnaby." + +Mrs. Kattle laughed. It is possible that written news might have been +_asked for_ by the countess-dowager. + +"Well, my dear, and so I did; but it turned out to be a mistake. He did +admire her; there was no mistake about that; and I dare say she might +have had him if she liked. How's your brother and his poor leg?" + +"Oh, he is well," answered Maude. "Au revoir; I can't stand this crush +any longer." + +It was really a crush just then in the room; and though Maude escaped +from it dexterously, Lord Hartledon did not. He was wedged in behind some +stout women, and had the pleasure of hearing another word or two from +Mrs. Kattle. + +"Who was that?" asked a lady, who appeared to be her companion. + +"Lady Hartledon. He was only the younger brother until a few months ago, +but the elder one got drowned in some inexplicable manner on his own +estate, and this one came into the title. The old dowager began at once +to angle for him, and succeeded in hooking him. She used to write me word +how it progressed." + +"She is very beautiful." + +"Very." + +Lord Hartledon made his escape, and found his wife looking round for him. +She was struck by the aspect of his face. + +"Are you ill, Percival?" + +"Ill? No. But I don't care how soon we get out of these rooms. I can't +think what brings so many people in them to-day." + +"He has heard that _she's_ here, and would like to avoid her," thought +Maude as she took the arm he held out. "The large rooms are empty enough, +I'm sure," she remarked. "Shall we have time to go to the Trianon?" + +"If you like. Yes." + +He began to hurry through the rooms. Maude, however, was in no mood to be +hurried, but stopped here and stopped there. All at once they met a large +party of friends; those she had originally expected to meet. Quitting her +husband's arm, she became lost amongst them. + +There was no help for it; and Lord Hartledon, resigning himself to the +detention, took up his standing before the pictures and stared at them, +his back to the room. He saw a good deal to interest him, in spite of his +rather tumultuous state of mind, and remained there until he found +himself surrounded by other spectators. Turning hastily with a view to +escaping, he trod upon a lady's dress. She looked up at his word of +apology, and they stood face to face--himself and Miss Ashton! + +That both utterly lost their presence of mind would have been conclusive +to the spectators, had any regarded them; but none did so. They were +strangers amidst the crowd. For the space of a moment each gazed on the +other, spell-bound. Lord Hartledon's honest blue eyes were riveted on her +face with a strangely yearning expression of repentance--her sweet face, +which had turned as white as ashes. He wore mourning still for his +brother, and was the most distinguished-looking man in the château that +day. Anne was in a trailing lilac silk, with a white gossamer-bonnet. +That the heart of each went out to the other, as it had perhaps never +gone out before, it may be no sin to say. Sin or no sin, it was the +truth. The real value of a thing, as you know, is never felt until it +is lost. For two months each had been dutifully striving to forget the +other, and believed they were succeeding; and this first accidental +meeting roused up the past in all its fever of passion. + +No more conscious of what he did than if he had been in a dream, Lord +Hartledon held out his hand; and she, quite as unconscious, mechanically +met it with hers. What confused words of greeting went forth from his +lips he never knew; she as little; but this state of bewildered feeling +lasted only a minute; recollection came to both, and she strove to +withdraw her hand to retreat. + +"God bless you, Anne!" was all he whispered, his fervent words marred by +their tone of pain; and he wrung her hand as he released it. + +Turning away he caught the eyes of his wife riveted on them; she had +evidently seen the meeting, and her colour was high. Lord Hartledon +walked straight into the next room, and Maude went up to Anne. + +"How do you do, Miss Ashton? I am so glad to meet you. I have just heard +you were here from Mrs. Kattle. You have been speaking to my husband." + +Anne bowed; she did not lose her presence of mind at _this_ encounter. A +few civil words of reply given with courteous dignity, and she moved away +with a bright flush on her cheek, towards Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were +standing arm-in-arm enraptured before a remote picture, cognizant of +nothing else. + +"How thin she looks!" exclaimed Maude, as she rejoined her husband, and +took his arm. + +"Who looks thin?" + +"Miss Ashton. I wonder she did not fling your hand away, instead of +putting her own into it!" + +"Do you wish to see the Trianon? We shall be late." + +"Yes, I do wish to see it. But you need not speak in that tone: it was +not my fault that we met her." + +He answered never a syllable. His lips were compressed to pain, and his +face was hectic; but he would not be drawn into reproaching his wife by +so much as a word, for the sort of taste she was displaying. The manner +in which he had treated Miss Ashton and her family was ever in his mind, +more or less, in all its bitter, humiliating disgrace. The worst part of +it to Val was, that there could be no reparation. + +The following day Lord Hartledon and his wife took their departure from +Paris; and if anything could have imparted especial gratification on his +arriving in London at the hired house, it was to find that his wife's +mother was not in it. Val had come home against his will; he had not +wished to be in London that season; rather would he have buried himself +and his haunting sense of shame on the tolerant Continent; and he +certainly had not wished his wife to make her debut in a small hired +house. When he let his own, nothing could have been further from his +thoughts than marriage. As to this house--Lady Kirton had told her +daughter she would be disappointed in it; but when Maude saw its +dimensions, its shabby entrance, its want of style altogether, she was +dismayed. "And after that glowing advertisement!" she breathed +resentfully. It was one of the smallest houses facing the Green Park. + +Hedges came forward with an apology from the countess-dowager. An apology +for not invading their house and inflicting her presence upon them +uninvited! A telegraphic despatch from Lord Kirton had summoned her to +Ireland on the previous day; and Val's face grew bright as he heard it. + +"What was the matter, Hedges?" inquired his mistress. "I'm sure my +brother would not telegraph unless it was something." + +"The message didn't say, my lady. It was just a few words, asking her +ladyship to go off by the first train, but giving no reason." + +"I wonder she went, then," observed Val to his wife, as they looked into +the different rooms. But Maude did not wonder: she knew how anxious her +mother was to be on good terms with her eldest son, from whom she +received occasional supplies. Rather would she quarrel with the whole +world than with him. + +"I think it a good thing she has gone, Maude," said he. "There certainly +would not have been room for her and for us in this house." + +"And so do I," answered Maude, looking round her bed-chamber. "If mamma +fancies she's going to inflict herself upon us for good she's mistaken. +She and I might quarrel, perhaps; for I know she'd try to control me. +Val, what are we to do in this small house?" + +"The best we can. We have made the bargain, you know, and taken +possession now." + +"You are laughing. I declare I think you are glad it has turned out what +it is!" + +"I am not sorry," he avowed. "You'll let me cater for you another time, +Maude." + +She put up her face to be kissed. "Don't be angry with me. It is our +home-coming." + +"Angry!" he repeated. "I have never shown anger to you yet, Maude. Never +a woman had a more indulgent husband than you shall have in me." + +"You don't say a loving one, Val!" + +"And a loving one also: if you will only let me be so." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Love requires love in return. We shall be happy, I am sure, if you so +will it. Only let us pull together; one mind, one interest. Here's your +maid. I wonder where my dressing room is?" + +And thus they entered on what remained of the London season. The +newspapers announced the arrival of Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Maude +read it aloud to her husband. She might have retained peace longer, +however, had that announcement not gone forth to the four corners of the +land. + +"Only let us pull together!" A very few days indeed sufficed to dissipate +that illusion. Lady Hartledon plunged madly into all the gaieties of the +dying season, as though to make up for lost time; Lord Hartledon never +felt less inclined to plunge into anything, unless it was the waters of +oblivion. He held back from some places, but she did not appear to care, +going her way in a very positive, off-hand manner, according to her own +will, and paying not the slightest deference to his. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE STRANGER AGAIN. + + +On a burning day at the end of June, Lord Hartledon was walking towards +the Temple. He had not yet sought out his friend Thomas Carr; a sense of +shame held him back; but he was on his way to do so now. + +Turning down Essex Street and so to the left, he traversed the courts +and windings, and mounted the stairs to the barrister's rooms. Many a +merry hour had he passed in those three small rooms, dignified with the +name of "Mr. Carr's chambers," but which were in fact also Mr. Carr's +dwelling-place--and some sad ones. + +Lord Hartledon knocked at the outer door with his stick--a somewhat +faint, doubtful knock; not with the free hand of one at ease with himself +and the world. For one thing, he was uncertain as to the reception he +should meet with. + +Mr. Carr came to the door himself; his clerk was out. When he saw who was +his visitor he stood in comic surprise. Val stepped in, extending his +hand; and it was heartily taken. + +"You are not offended with me, then, Carr?" + +"Nay," said Mr. Carr, "I have no reason to be offended. Your sin was not +against me." + +"That's a strong word, 'sin.'" + +"It is spoken," was the answer; "but I need not speak it again. I don't +intend to quarrel with you. I was not, I repeat, the injured party." + +"Yet you took yourself off in dudgeon, as though you were, leaving me +without a groomsman." + +"I would not remain to witness a marriage that--that you ought not to +have entered upon." + +"Well, it's done and over, and need not be brought up again," returned +Hartledon, a shade of annoyance in his tones. + +"Certainly not. I have no wish or right to bring it up. How is Lady +Hartledon?" + +"She is very well. And now what has kept you away, Carr? We have been in +London nearly a fortnight, and you've never been near me. I thought you +_were_ going to quarrel." + +"I did not know you had returned." + +"Not know it! Why all the newspapers had it in amongst the 'fashionable +intelligence.'" + +"I have more to do with my time than to look at the fashionable portion +of the papers. Not being fashionable myself, it doesn't interest me." + +"Yes, it's about a fortnight since we came back to this hateful place," +returned Hartledon, his light tone subsiding into seriousness. "I am out +of conceit with England just now; and would far rather have gone to the +Antipodes." + +"Then why did you come back to it?" inquired the barrister, in surprise. + +"My wife gave me no choice. She possesses a will of her own. It is the +ordinary thing, perhaps, for wives to do so." + +"Some do, and some don't," observed Thomas Carr, who never flattered at +the expense of truth. "Are you going down to Hartledon?" + +"Hartledon!" with a perceptible shiver. "In the mind I am in, I shall +never visit Hartledon again; there are some in its vicinity I would +rather not insult by my presence. Why do you bring up disagreeable +subjects?" + +"You will have to get over that feeling," observed Mr. Carr, disregarding +the hint, and taking out his probing-knife. "And the sooner it is got +over the better for all parties. You cannot become an exile from your own +place. Are they at Calne now?" + +"Yes. They were in Paris just before we left it, and there was an +encounter at Versailles. I wished myself dead; I declare I did. A day or +two after we came to England they crossed over, and went straight down to +Calne. There--don't say any more." + +"The longer you keep away from Hartledon the greater effort it will cost +you to go down to it; and--" + +"I won't go to Hartledon," he interrupted, in a sort of fury; "neither +perhaps would you, in my place." + +"Sir," cried Mr. Carr's clerk, bustling in and addressing his master, +"you are waited for at the chambers of Serjeant Gale. The consultation is +on." + +Lord Hartledon rose. + +"I will not detain you, Carr; business must be attended to. Will you come +and dine with us this evening? Only me and my wife. Here's where we are +staying--Piccadilly. My own house is let, you know." + +"I have no engagement, and will come with pleasure," said Mr. Carr, +taking the card. "What hour?" + +"Ah, that's just what I can't tell you. Lady Hartledon orders dinner to +suit her engagements--any time between six and nine! I never know. We are +a fashionable couple, don't you see?" + +"Stay, though, Hartledon; I forget. I have a business appointment for +half-past eight. Perhaps I can put it off." + +"Come up at six. You'll be all right, then, in any case." + +Lord Hartledon left the Temple, and sauntered towards home. He had +no engagement on hand--nothing to kill time. He and his wife were +falling naturally into the way of--as he had just cynically styled +it--fashionable people. She went her way and he went his. + +Many a cabman held up his hand or his whip; but in his present mood +walking was agreeable to him: why should he hurry home, when he had +nothing on earth to do there? So he stared here, and gazed there, and +stopped to speak to this acquaintance, and walked a few steps with that, +went into his club for ten minutes, and arrived home at last. + +His wife's carriage was at the door waiting for her. She was bound on an +expedition to Chiswick: Lord Hartledon had declined it. He met her +hastening out as he entered, and she was looking very cross. + +"How late you are going, Maude!" + +"Yes, there has been a mistake," she said peevishly, turning in with him +to a small room they used as a breakfast-room. "I have been waiting all +this time for Lady Langton, and she, I find, has been waiting for me. I'm +now going round to take her up. Oh, I have secured that opera-box, Val, +but at an extravagant price, considering the little time that remains of +the season." + +"What opera-box?" + +"Didn't I tell you? It's one I heard of yesterday. I was not going again +to put up with the wretched little box they palmed you off with. I did +tell you that." + +"It was the only one I could get, Maude: there was no other choice." + +"Yes, I know. Well, I have secured another for the rest of the season, +and you must not talk about extravagance, please." + +"Very well," said Val, with a smile. "For what hour have you ordered +dinner?" + +"Nine o'clock." + +"Nine o'clock! That's awkward--and late." + +"Why awkward? You may have to wait for me even then. It is impossible to +say when we shall get home from Chiswick. All the world will be there." + +"I have just asked Carr to dine with us, and told him to come at six. I +don't fancy these hard-working men care to wait so long for their dinner. +And he has an appointment for half-past eight." + +The colour came flushing into Lady Hartledon's face, an angry light into +her eyes. + +"You have asked Carr to dinner! How dared you?" + +Val looked up in quiet amazement. + +"Dared!" + +"Well--yes. Dared!" + +"I do not understand you, Maude. I suppose I may exercise the right of +inviting a friend to dinner." + +"Not when it is objectionable to me. I dislike that man Carr, and will +not receive him." + +"You can have no grounds for disliking him," returned Lord Hartledon +warmly. "He has been a good and true friend to me ever since I knew what +friendship meant; and he is a good and true man." + +"Too much of a friend," she sarcastically retorted. "You don't need him +now, and can drop him." + +"Maude," said Lord Hartledon, very quietly, "I have fancied several times +lately that you are a little mistaking me. I am not to have a will of my +own; I am to bend in all things to yours; you are to be mistress and +master, I a nonentity: is it not so? This is a mistake. No woman ever had +a better or more indulgent husband than you shall find in me: but in all +necessary things, where it is needful and expedient that I should +exercise my own judgment, and act as master, I shall do it." + +She paused in very astonishment: the tone was so calmly decisive. + +"My dear, let us have no more of this; something must have vexed you +to-day." + +"We will have no more of it," she passionately retorted; "and I'll have +no more of your Thomas Carrs. It is not right that you should bring a man +here who has deliberately insulted me. Be quiet, Lord Hartledon; he has. +What else was it but an insult--his going out of the chapel in the manner +he did, when we were before the altar? It was a direct intimation that he +did not countenance the marriage. He would have preferred, I suppose, +that you should marry your country sweetheart, Anne Ashton." + +A hot flush rose to Lord Hartledon's brow, but his tone was strangely +temperate. "I have already warned you, Maude, that we shall do well to +discard that name from our discussions, and if possible from our +thoughts; it may prove better for both of us." + +"Better for you, perhaps; but you are _not_ going to exercise any control +over my will, or words, or action; and so I tell you at once. I'm quite +old enough to be out of leading-strings, and I'll be mistress in my own +house. You will do well to send a note to your amiable friend Carr; it +may save him a useless journey; for at my table he shall not sit. Now you +know, Val." + +She spoke impatiently, haughtily, and swept out to her carriage. Val did +not follow to place her in; he positively did not, but left her to the +servants. Never in his whole life perhaps had he felt so nettled, never +so resolute: the once vacillating, easily-persuaded man, when face to +face with people, was speedily finding the will he had only exercised +behind their backs. He rang the bell for Hedges. + +"Her ladyship has ordered dinner for nine o'clock," he said, when the +butler appeared. + +"I believe so, my lord." + +"It will be inconvenient to me to wait so long to-day. I shall dine at +seven. You can serve it in this room, leaving the dining-room for Lady +Hartledon. Mr. Carr dines with me." + +So Hedges gave the necessary orders, and dinner was laid in the +breakfast-room. Thomas Carr came in, bringing the news that he had +succeeded in putting off his appointment. Lord Hartledon received him in +the same room, fearing possibly the drawing-room might be invaded by his +wife. She was just as likely to be home early from Chiswick as late. + +"We have it to ourselves, Carr, and I am not sorry. There was no +certainty about my wife's return, so I thought we'd dine alone." + +They very much enjoyed their tête-à-tête dinner; as they had enjoyed many +a one in Hartledon's bachelor days. Thomas Carr--one of the quiet, good +men in a fast world--was an admirable companion, full of intelligence and +conversation. Hedges left them alone after the cloth was removed, but in +a very few minutes returned; his step rather more subdued than usual, as +if he came upon some secret mission. + +"Here's that stranger come again, sir," he began, in low tones; and it +may as well be remarked that in moments of forgetfulness he often did +address his master as he used to address him in the past. "He asked if--" + +"What stranger?" rather testily interposed Lord Hartledon. "I am at +dinner, and can't see any stranger now. What are you thinking about, +Hedges?" + +"It is what I said," returned Hedges; "but he would not take the answer. +He said he had come a long way to see your lordship, and he would see +you; his business was very important. My lady asked him--" + +"Has Lady Hartledon returned?" + +"She came in now, my lord, while I was denying you to him. Her ladyship +heard him say he would see you, and she inquired what his business was; +but he did not tell her. It was private business, he remarked, and could +only be entered into with your lordship." + +"Who is it, Hedges? Do you know him?" + +Lord Hartledon had dropped his voice to confidential tones. Hedges was +faithful, and had been privy to some of his embarrassments in the old +days. The man looked at the barrister, and seemed to hesitate. + +"Speak out. You can say anything before Mr. Carr." + +"I don't know him," answered Hedges. "It is the gentleman who came to +Hartledon the week after your lordship's marriage, asking five hundred +questions, and wanting--" + +"He, is it?" interrupted Val. "You told me about him when I came home, +I remember. Go on, Hedges." + +"That's all, my lord. Except that he is here now"--and Hedges nodded his +head towards the room-door. "He seems very inquisitive. When my lady went +upstairs, he asked whether that was the countess, and followed her to the +foot of the stairs to look after her. I never saw any gentleman stare +so." + +Val played with his wine-glass, and pondered. "I don't believe I owe a +shilling in the world," quoth he--betraying the bent of his thoughts, and +speaking to no one in particular. "I have squared-up every debt, as far +as I know." + +"He does not look like a creditor," observed Hedges, with a fatherly air. +"Quite superior to that: more like a parson. It's his manner that makes +one doubt. There was a mystery about it at Hartledon that I didn't like; +and he refused to give his name. His insisting on seeing your lordship +now, at dinner or not at dinner, is odd too; his voice is quiet, just as +if he possessed the right to do this. I didn't know what to do, and +as I say, he's in the hall." + +"Show him in somewhere, Hedges. Lady Hartledon is in the drawing-room, I +suppose: let him go into the dining-room." + +"Her ladyship's dinner is being laid there, my lord," dissented the +cautious retainer. "She said it was to be served as soon as it was ready, +having come home earlier than she expected." + +"Deuce take it!" testily responded Val, "one can't swing a cat in these +cramped hired houses. Show him into my smoking-den upstairs." + +"Let me go there," said Mr. Carr, "and you can see him in this room." + +"No; keep to your wine, Carr. Take him up there, Hedges." + +The butler retired, and Lord Hartledon turned to his guest. "Carr, can +you give a guess at the fellow's business?" + +"It's nothing to trouble you. If you have overlooked any old debt, you +are able to give a cheque for it. But I should rather suspect your +persevering friend to be some clergyman or missionary, bent on drawing +a good subscription from you." + +Val did not raise his eyes. He was playing again with his empty +wine-glass, his face grave and perplexed. + +"Do they serve writs in these cases?" he suddenly asked. + +Mr. Carr laughed. "Is the time so long gone by that you have forgotten +yours? You have had some in your day." + +"I am not thinking of debt, Carr: that is over for me. But there's no +denying that I behaved disgracefully to--you know--and Dr. Ashton has +good reason to be incensed. Can he be bringing an action against me, and +is this visit in any way connected with it?" + +"Nonsense," said Mr. Carr. + +"Is it nonsense! I'm sure I've heard of their dressing-up these +serving-officers as clergymen, to entrap the unwary. Well, call it +nonsense, if you like. What of my suggestion in regard to Dr. Ashton?" + +Thomas Carr paused to consider. That it was most improbable in all +respects, he felt sure; next door to impossible. + +"The doctor is too respectable a man to do anything of the sort," he +answered. "He is high-minded, honourable, wealthy: there's no inducement +whatever. _No._" + +"Yes, there may be one: that of punishing me by bringing my disgrace +before the world." + +"You forget that he would bring his daughter's name before it at the same +time. It is quite out of the range of possibility. The Ashtons are not +people to seek legal reparation for injury of this sort. But that your +fears are blinding you, you would never suspect them of being capable of +it." + +"The stranger is upstairs, my lord," interrupted Hedges, coming back to +the room. "I asked him what name, and he said your lordship would know +him when you saw him, and there was no need to give it." + +Lord Hartledon went upstairs, marshalled by the butler. Hedges was +resenting the mystery; very much on his master's account, a little on his +own, for it cannot be denied that he was given to curiosity. He threw +open the door of the little smoking-den, and in his loftiest, loudest, +most uncompromising voice, announced: + +"The gentleman, my lord." + +Then retired, and shut them in. + +Thomas Carr remained alone. He was not fond of wine, and did not +help himself during his host's absence. Five minutes, ten minutes, +half-an-hour, an hour; and still he was alone. At the end of the first +half-hour he began to think Val a long time; at the end of the hour he +feared something must have happened. Could he be quarrelling with the +mysterious stranger? Could he have forgotten him and gone out? Could +he-- + +The door softly opened, and Lord Hartledon came in. Was it Lord +Hartledon? Thomas Carr rose from his chair in amazement and dread. It was +like him, but with some awful terror upon him. His face was of an ashy +whiteness; the veins of his brow stood out; his dry lips were drawn. + +"Good Heavens, Hartledon!" uttered Thomas Carr. "What is it? You look as +if you had been accused of murder." + +"I have been accused of it," gasped the unhappy man, "of worse than +murder. Ay, and I have done it." + +The words called up a strange confusion of ideas in the mind of Thomas +Carr. Worse than murder! + +"What is it?" cried he, aloud. "I am beginning to dream." + +"Will you stand by me?" rejoined Hartledon, his voice seeming to have +changed into something curiously hollow. "I have asked you before for +trifles; I ask you now in the extremity of need. Will you stand by me, +and aid me with your advice?" + +"Y--es," answered Mr. Carr, his excessive astonishment causing a +hesitation. "Where is your visitor?" + +"Upstairs. He holds a fearful secret, and has me in his power. Do you +come back with me, and combat with him against its betrayal." + +"A fearful secret!" was Thomas Carr's exclamation. "What brings you with +one?" + +Lord Hartledon only groaned. "You will stand by me, Carr? Will you come +upstairs and do what you can for me?" + +"I am quite ready," replied Thomas Carr, quickly. "I will stand by you +now, as ever. But--I seem to be in a maze. Is it a true charge?" + +"Yes, in so far as that--But I had better tell you the story," he broke +off, wiping his brow. "I must tell it you before you go upstairs." + +He linked his arm within his friend's, and drew him to the window. It +was broad daylight still, but gloomy there: the window had the pleasure +of reposing under the leads, and was gloomy at noon. Lord Hartledon +hesitated still. "Elster's folly!" were the words mechanically floating +in the mind of Thomas Carr. + +"It is an awful story, Carr; bad and wicked." + +"Let me hear it at once," replied Thomas Carr. + +"I am in danger of--of--in short, that person upstairs could have me +apprehended to-night. I would not tell you but that I must do so. I must +have advice, assistance; but you'll start from me when you hear it." + +"I will stand by you, whatever it may be. If a man has ever need of a +friend, it must be in his extremity." + +Lord Hartledon stood, and whispered a strange tale. It was anything but +coherent to the clear-minded barrister; nevertheless, as he gathered one +or two of its points he did start back, as Hartledon had foretold, and an +exclamation of dismay burst from his lips. + +"And you could _marry_--with this hanging over your head!" + +"Carr--" + +The butler came in with an interruption. + +"My lady wishes to know whether your lordship is going out with her +to-night." + +"Not to-night," answered Lord Hartledon, pointing to the door for the man +to make his exit. "It is of her I think, not of myself," he murmured to +Mr. Carr. + +"And he"--the barrister pointed above to indicate the +stranger--"threatens to have you apprehended on the charge?" + +"I hardly know what he threatens. _You_ must deal with him, Carr; +I cannot. Let us go; we are wasting time." + +As they left the room to go upstairs Lady Hartledon came out of the +dining-room and crossed their path. She was deeply mortified at her +husband's bringing Mr. Carr to the house after what she had said; and +most probably came out at the moment to confront them with her haughty +and disapproving face. However that might have been, all other emotions +gave place to surprise, when she saw _their_ faces, each bearing a livid +look of fear. + +"I hope you are well, Lady Hartledon," said Mr. Carr. + +She would not see the offered hand, but swept onwards with a cold +curtsey, stopping just a moment to speak to her husband. + +"You are not going out with me, Lord Hartledon?" + +"I cannot to-night, Maude. Business detains me." + +She passed up the stairs, vouchsafing no other word. They lingered a +minute to let her get into the drawing-room. + +"Poor Maude! What will become of her if this is brought home to me?" + +"And if it is not brought home to you--the fact remains the same," said +Mr. Carr, in his merciless truth. + +"And our children, our children!" groaned Hartledon, a hot flush of dread +arising in his white face. + +They shut themselves in with the stranger, and the conference was +renewed. Presently lights were rung for; Hedges brought them himself, +but gained nothing by the movement; for Mr. Carr heard him coming, rose +unbidden, and took them from him at the door. + +Lady Hartledon's curiosity was excited. It had been aroused a little by +the stranger himself; secondly by their scared faces; thirdly by this +close conference. + +"Who is that strange gentleman, Hedges?" she asked, from the +drawing-room, as the butler descended. + +"I don't know, my lady." + +"What is his name?" + +"I have not heard it, my lady." + +"He looks like a clergyman." + +"He does, my lady." + +Apparently Hedges was impenetrable, and she allowed him to go down. Her +curiosity was very much excited; it may be said, uneasily excited; there +is no accounting for these instincts that come over us, shadowing forth +a vague sense of dread. Although engaged out that night to more than one +place, Lady Hartledon lingered on in the drawing-room. + +They came out of the room at last and passed the drawing-room door. She +pushed it to, only peeping out when they had gone by. There was nothing +to hear; they were talking of ordinary matters. The stranger, in his +strong Scotch accent, remarked what a hot day it had been. In travelling, +no doubt very, responded Mr. Carr. Lady Hartledon condescended to +cautiously put her head over the balustrades. There was no bell rung; +Lord Hartledon showed his visitor out himself. + +"And now for these criminal law books, Carr, that bear upon the case," he +said, returning from the front-door. + +"I must go down to my chambers for them." + +"I know they can't bring it home to me; I know they can't!" he exclaimed, +in tones so painfully eager as to prove to Lady Hartledon's ears that he +thought they could, whatever the matter might be. "I'll go with you, +Carr; this uncertainty is killing me." + +"There's little uncertainty about it, I fear," was the grave reply. "You +had better look the worst in the face." + +They went out, intending to hail the first cab. Very much to Lord +Hartledon's surprise he saw his wife's carriage waiting at the door, the +impatient horses chafing at their delay. What could have detained her? +"Wait for me one moment, Carr," he said. "Stop a cab if you see one." + +He dashed up to the drawing-room; his wife was coming forth then, her +cloak and gloves on, her fan in her hand. "Maude, my darling," he +exclaimed, "what has kept you? Surely you have not waited for me?--you +did not misunderstand me?" + +"I hardly know what has kept me," she evasively answered. "It is late, +but I'm going now." + +It never occurred to Lord Hartledon that she had been watching or +listening. Incapable of any meanness of the sort, he could not suspect it +in another. Lady Hartledon's fertile brain had been suggesting a solution +of this mystery. It was rather curious, perhaps, that her suspicions +should take the same bent that her husband's did at first--that of +instituting law proceedings by Dr. Ashton. + +She said nothing. Her husband led her out, placed her in the carriage, +and saw it drive away. Then he and the barrister got into a cab and went +to the Temple. + +"We'll take the books home with us, Carr," he said, feverishly. "You +often have fellows dropping in to your chambers at night; at my house we +shall be secure from interruption." + +It was midnight when Lady Hartledon returned home. She asked after her +husband, and heard that he was in the breakfast-room with Mr. Carr. + +She went towards it with a stealthy step, and opened the door very +softly. Had Lord Hartledon not been talking, they might, however, have +heard her. The table was strewed with thick musty folios; but they +appeared to be done with, and Mr. Carr was leaning back in his chair with +folded arms. + +"I have had nothing but worry all my life," Val was saying; "but compared +with this, whatever has gone before was as nothing. When I think of +Maude, I feel as if I should go mad." + +"You must quietly separate from her," said Mr. Carr. + +A slight movement. Mr. Carr stopped, and Lord Hartledon looked round. +Lady Hartledon was close behind him. + +"Percival, what is the matter?" she asked, turning her back on Mr. Carr, +as if ignoring his presence. "What bad news did that parson bring you?--a +friend, I presume, of Dr. Ashton's." + +They had both risen. Lord Hartledon glanced at Mr. Carr, the perspiration +breaking out on his brow. "It--it was not a parson," he said, in his +innate adherence to truth. + +"I ask _you_, Lord Hartledon," she resumed, having noted the silent +appeal to Mr. Carr. "It requires no third person to step between man and +wife. Will you come upstairs with me?" + +Words and manner were too pointed, and Mr. Carr hastily stacked the +books, and carried them to a side-table. + +"Allow these to remain here until to-morrow," he said to Lord Hartledon; +"I'll send my clerk for them. I'm off now; it's later than I thought. +Good-night, Lady Hartledon." + +He went out unmolested; Lady Hartledon did not answer him; Val nodded his +good-night. + +"Are you not ashamed to face me, Lord Hartledon?" she then demanded. +"I overheard what you were saying." + +"Overheard what we were saying?" he repeated, gazing at her with a scared +look. + +"I heard that insidious man give you strange advice--'_you must quietly +separate from her_,' he said; meaning from me. And you listened +patiently, and did not knock him down!" + +"Maude! Maude! was that all you heard?" + +"_All!_ I should think it was enough." + +"Yes, but--" He broke off, so agitated as scarcely to know what he was +saying. Rallying himself somewhat, he laid his hand upon the white cloak +covering her shoulders. + +"Do not judge him harshly, Maude. Indeed he is a true friend to you and +to me. And I have need of one just now." + +"A true friend!--to advise that! I never heard of anything so monstrous. +You must be out of your mind." + +"No, I am not, Maude. Should--disgrace"--he seemed to hesitate for a +word--"fall upon me, it must touch you as connected with me. I _know_, +Maude, that he was thinking of your best and truest interests." + +"But to talk of separating husband and wife!" + +"Yes--well--I suppose he spoke strongly in the heat of the moment." + +There was a pause. Lord Hartledon had his hand still on his wife's +shoulder, but his eyes were bent on the table near which they stood. She +was waiting for him to speak. + +"Won't you tell me what has happened?" + +"I can't tell you, Maude, to-night," he answered, great drops coming out +again on his brow at the question, and knowing all the time that he +should never tell her. "I--I must learn more first." + +"You spoke of disgrace," she observed gently, swaying her fan before her +by its silken cord. "An ugly word." + +"It is. Heaven help me!" + +"Val, I do think you are the greatest simpleton under the skies!" she +exclaimed out of all patience, and flinging his hand off. "It's time you +got rid of this foolish sensitiveness. I know what is the matter quite +well; and it's not so very much of a disgrace after all! Those Ashtons +are going to make you pay publicly for your folly. Let them do it." + +He had opened his lips to undeceive her, but stopped in time. As a +drowning man catches at a straw, so did he catch at this suggestion in +his hopeless despair; and he suffered her to remain in it. Anything to +stave off the real, dreadful truth. + +"Maude," he rejoined, "it is for your sake. If I am sensitive as to +any--any disgrace being brought home to me, I declare that I think of +you more than of myself." + +"Then don't think of it. It will be fun for me, rather than anything +else. I did not imagine the Ashtons would have done it, though. I wonder +what damages they'll go in for. Oh, Val, I should like to see you in the +witness-box!" + +He did not answer. + +"And it was not a parson?" she continued. "I'm sure he looked as much +like one as old Ashton himself. A professional man, then, I suppose, +Val?" + +"Yes, a professional man." But even that little answer was given with +some hesitation, as though it had evasion in it. + +Maude broke into a laugh. "Your friend, Pleader Carr--or whatever he +calls himself--must be as thin-skinned as you are, Val, to fancy that a +rubbishing action of that sort, brought against a husband, can reflect +disgrace on the wife! Separate, indeed! Has he lived in a wood all his +life? Well, I am going upstairs." + +"A moment yet, Maude! You will take a caution from me, won't you? Don't +speak of this; don't allude to it, even to me. It may be arranged yet, +you know." + +"So it may," acquiesced Maude. "Let your friend Carr see the doctor, and +offer to pay the damages down." + +He might have resented this speech for Dr. Ashton's sake, in a happier +moment, but resentment had been beaten out of him now. And Lady Hartledon +decided that her husband was a simpleton, for instead of going to sleep +like a reasonable man, he tossed and turned by her side until daybreak. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +SECRET CARE. + + +From that hour Lord Hartledon was a changed man. He went about as one who +has some awful fear upon him, starting at shadows. That his manner was +inexplicable, even allowing that he had some great crime on his +conscience, a looker-on had not failed to observe. He was very tender +with his wife; far more so than he had been at all; anxious, as it +seemed, to indulge her every fancy, gratify her every whim. But when it +came to going into society with her, then he hesitated; he would and he +wouldn't, reminding Maude of his old vacillation, which indeed had seemed +to have been laid aside for ever. It was as though he appeared not to +know what to do; what he ought to do; his own wish or inclination having +no part in it. + +"Why _won't_ you go with me?" she said to him angrily one day that he had +retracted his assent at the last moment. "Is it that you care so much for +Anne Ashton, that you don't care to be seen with me?" + +"Oh, Maude! If you knew how little Anne Ashton is in my thoughts now! +When by chance I do think of her, it is to be thankful I did not marry +her," he added, in a tone of self-communing. + +Maude laughed a light laugh. "This movement of theirs is putting you out +of conceit of your old love, Val." + +"What movement?" he rejoined; and he would not have asked the question +had his thoughts not gone wool-gathering. + +"You are dreaming, Val. The action." + +"Ah, yes, to be sure." + +"Have you heard yet what damages they claim?" + +He shook his head. "You promised not to speak of this, Maude; even to +me." + +"Who is to help speaking of it, when you allow it to take your ease away? +I never in my life saw any one so changed as you are. I wish the thing +were over and done with, though it left you a few thousand pounds the +poorer. _Will_ you accompany me to this dinner to-day? I am sick of +appearing alone and making excuses for you." + +"I wish I knew what to do for the best--what my course ought to be!" +thought Hartledon within his conscience. "I can't bear to be seen with +her in public. When I face people with her on my arm, it seems as if they +must know what sort of man she, in her unconsciousness, is leaning upon." + +"I'll go with you to-day, Maude, as you press it. I was to have seen Mr. +Carr, but can send down to him." + +"Then don't be five minutes dressing: it is time we went." + +She heard him despatch a footman to the Temple with a message that he +should not be at Mr. Carr's chambers that evening; and she lay back in +her chair, waiting for him in her dinner-dress of black and white. They +were in mourning still for his brother. Lord Hartledon had not left it +off, and Maude had loved him too well to grumble at the delay. + +She had grown tolerant in regard to the intimacy with Mr. Carr. That her +husband should escape as soon and as favourably as possible out of the +dilemma in which he was plunged, she naturally wished; that he should +require legal advice and assistance to accomplish it, was only +reasonable, and therefore she tolerated the visits of Mr. Carr. She had +even gone so far one evening as to send tea in to them when he and Val +were closeted together. + +But still Lady Hartledon was not quite prepared to find Mr. Carr at +their house when they returned. She and Lord Hartledon went forth to +the dinner; the latter behaving as though his wits were in some far-off +hemisphere rather than in this one, so absent-minded was he. From the +dinner they proceeded to another place or two; and on getting home, +towards one in the morning, there was the barrister. + +"Mr. Carr is waiting to see you, my lord," said Hedges, meeting them in +the passage. "He is in the dining-room." + +"Mr. Carr! Now!" + +The hall-lamp shone full on his face as he spoke. He had been momentarily +forgetting care; was speaking gaily to his wife as they entered. She saw +the change that came over it; the look of fear, of apprehension, that +replaced its smile. He went into the dining-room, and she followed him. + +"Why, Carr!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?" + +Mr. Carr, bowing to Lady Hartledon, made a joke of the matter. "Having +waited so long, I thought I'd wait it out, Hartledon. As good be hung for +a sheep as a lamb, you know, and I have no wife sitting up for me at +home." + +"You had my message?" + +"Yes, and that brought me here. I wanted just to say a word to you, as +I am going out of town to-morrow." + +"What will you take?" + +"Nothing at all. Hedges has been making me munificent offers, but I +declined them. I never take anything after dinner, except a cup of tea or +so, as you may remember, keeping a clear head for work in the morning." + +There was a slight pause. Lady Hartledon saw of course that she was _de +trop_ in the conference; that Mr. Carr would not speak his "word" whilst +she was present. She had never understood why the matter should be kept +apart from her; and in her heart resented it. + +"You won't say to my husband before me what you have come to say, Mr. +Carr." + +It was strictly the truth, but the abrupt manner of bringing it home to +him momentarily took away Mr. Carr's power of repartee, although he was +apt enough in general, as became a special pleader. + +"You have had news from the Ashtons; that is, of their cause, and you +have come to tell it. I don't see why you and Lord Hartledon should so +cautiously keep everything from me." + +There was an eager look on Lord Hartledon's face as he stood behind his +wife. It was directed to Mr. Carr, and said as plainly as look could say, +"Don't undeceive her; keep up the delusion." But Thomas Carr was not so +apt at keeping up delusions at the expense of truth, and he only smiled +in reply. + +"What damages are they suing for?" + +"Oh," said Mr. Carr, with a laugh, and ready enough now: "ten thousand +pounds will cover it." + +"Ten thousand pounds!" she echoed. "Of course they won't get half of it. +In this sort of action--breach of promise--parties never get so much as +they ask for, do they?" + +"Not often." + +She laughed a little as she quitted the room. It was difficult to remain +longer, and it never occurred to her to suspect that any graver matter +than this action was in question. + +"Now, Carr?" began Lord Hartledon, seating himself near the table as he +closed the door after her, and speaking in low tones. + +"I received this letter by the afternoon mail," said Mr. Carr, taking one +from the safe enclosure of his pocket-book. "It is satisfactory, so far +as it goes." + +"I call it very satisfactory," returned Hartledon, glancing through it. +"I thought he'd listen to reason. What is done cannot be undone, and +exposure will answer no end. I wrote him an urgent letter the other day, +begging him to be silent for Maude's sake. Were I to expiate the past +with my life, it could not undo it. If he brought me to the bar of my +country to plead guilty or not guilty, the past would remain the same." + +"And I put the matter to him in my letter somewhat in the same light, +though in a more business-like point of view," returned Mr. Carr. "There +was no entreaty in mine. I left compassion, whether for you or others, +out of the argument; and said to him, what will you gain by exposure, and +how will you reconcile it to your conscience to inflict on innocent +persons the torture exposure must bring?" + +"I shall breathe freely now," said Hartledon, with a sigh of relief." +If that man gives his word not to stir in the matter, not to take +proceedings against me; in short, to bury what he knows in secrecy and +silence, as he has hitherto done; it will be all I can hope for." + +Mr. Carr lifted his eyebrows. + +"I perceive what you think: that the fact remains. Carr, I know it as +well as you; I know that _nothing_ can alter it. Don't you see that +remorse is ever present with me? driving me mad? killing me by inches +with its pain?" + +"Do you know what I should be tempted to do, were the case mine?" + +"Well?" + +"Tell my wife." + +"Carr!" + +"I almost think I should; I am not quite sure. Should the truth ever come +to her--" + +"But I trust it never will come to her," interrupted Hartledon, his face +growing hot. + +"It's a delicate point to argue," acknowledged Mr. Carr, "and I cannot +hope to bring you into my way of looking at it. Had you married Miss +Ashton, it appears to me that you would have no resource but to tell +her: the very fact of being bound to you would kill a religious, +high-principled woman." + +"Not if she remained in ignorance." + +"There it is. Ought she to remain in ignorance?" + +Lord Hartledon leaned his head on his hand as one faint and weary. +"Carr, it is of no use to go over all this ground again. If I disclose +the whole to Maude, how would it make it better for her? Would it not +render it a hundred times worse? She could not inform against me; it +would be contrary to human nature to suppose it; and all the result +would be, that she must go through life with the awful secret upon her, +rendering her days a hell upon earth, as it is rendering mine. It's true +she might separate from me; I dare say she would; but what satisfaction +would that bring her? No; the kinder course is to allow her to remain in +ignorance. Good Heavens! tell my wife! I should never dare do it!" + +Mr. Carr made no reply, and a pause ensued. In truth, the matter was +encompassed with difficulties on all sides; and the barrister could but +acknowledge that Val's argument had some sort of reason in it. Having +bound her to himself by marriage, it might be right that he should study +her happiness above all things. + +"It has put new life into me," Val resumed, pointing to the letter. "Now +that he has promised to keep the secret, there's little to fear; and I +know that he will keep his word. I must bear the burden as I best can, +and keep a smiling face to the world." + +"Did you read the postscript?" asked Mr. Carr; a feeling coming over him +that Val had not read it. + +"The postscript?" + +"There's a line or two over the leaf." + +Lord Hartledon glanced at it, and found it ran thus: + + "You must be aware that another person knows of this besides myself. He + who was a witness at the time, and from whom _I_ heard the particulars. + Of course for him I cannot answer, and I think he is in England. I + allude to G.G. Lord H. will know." + +"Lord H." apparently did know. He gazed down at the words with a knitted +brow, in which some surprise was mingled. + +"I declare that I understood him that night to say the fellow had died. +Did not you?" + +"I did," acquiesced Mr. Carr. "I certainly assumed it as a fact, until +this letter came to-day. Gordon was the name, I think?" + +"George Gordon." + +"Since reading the letter I have been endeavouring to recollect exactly +what he did say; and the impression on my mind is, that he spoke of +Gordon as being _probably_ dead; not that he knew it for a certainty. +How I could overlook the point so as not to have inquired into it more +fully, I cannot imagine. But, you see, we were not discussing details +that night, or questioning facts: we were trying to disarm him--get him +not to proceed against you; and for myself, I confess I was so utterly +stunned that half my wits had left me." + +"What is to be done?" + +"We must endeavour to ascertain where Gordon is," replied Mr. Carr, as +he re-enclosed the letter in his pocket-book. "I'll write and inquire +what _his_ grounds are for thinking he is in England; and then trace him +out--if he is to be traced. You give me carte-blanche to act?" + +"You know I do, Carr." + +"All right." + +"And when you have traced him--what then?" + +"That's an after-question, and I must be guided by circumstances. And now +I'll wish you good-night," continued the barrister, rising. "It's a shame +to have kept you up; but the letter contains some consolation, and I knew +I could not bring it you to-morrow." + +The drawing-room was lighted when Lord Hartledon went upstairs; and his +wife sat there with a book, as if she meant to remain up all night. She +put it down as he entered. + +"Are you here still, Maude! I thought you were tired when you came home." + +"I felt tired because I met no one I cared for," she answered, in rather +fractious tones. "Every one we know is leaving town, or has left." + +"Yes, that's true." + +"I shall leave too. I don't mind if we go to-morrow." + +"To-morrow!" he echoed. "Why, we have the house for three weeks longer." + +"And if we have? We are not obliged to remain in it." + +Lord Hartledon put back the curtain, and stood leaning out at the open +window, seeking a breath of air that hot summer's night, though indeed +there was none to be found; and if there had been, it could not have +cooled the brow's inward fever. The Park lay before him, dark and misty; +the lights of the few vehicles passing gleamed now and again; the hum of +life was dying out in the streets, men's free steps, careless voices. He +looked down, and wondered whether any one of those men knew what care +meant as _he_ knew it; whether the awful skeleton, that never quitted +him night or day, could hold such place with another. He was Earl of +Hartledon; wealthy, young, handsome; he had no bad habits to hamper him; +and yet he would willingly have changed lots at hazard with any one of +those passers-by, could his breast, by so doing, have been eased of its +burden. + +"What are you looking at, Val?" + +His wife had come up and stolen her arm within his, as she asked the +question, looking out too. + +"Not at anything in particular," he replied, making a prisoner of her +hand. "The night's hot, Maude." + +"Oh, I am getting tired of London!" she exclaimed. "It is always hot now; +and I believe I ought to be away from it." + +"Yes." + +"That letter I had this morning was from Ireland, from mamma. I told her, +when I wrote last, how I felt; and you never read such a lecture as she +gave me in return. She asked me whether I was mad, that I should be going +galvanizing about when I ought rather to be resting three parts of my +time." + +"Galvanizing?" said Lord Hartledon. + +"So she wrote: she never waits to choose her words--you know mamma! +I suppose she meant to imply that I was always on the move." + +"Do you feel ill, Maude?" + +"Not exactly ill; but--I think I ought to be careful. Percival," she +breathed, "mamma asked me whether I was trying to destroy the hope of an +heir to Hartledon." + +An ice-bolt shot through him at the reminder. Better an heir should never +be born, if it must call him father! + +"I fainted to-day, Val," she continued to whisper. + +He passed his arm round his wife's waist, and drew her closer to him. +Not upon her ought he to visit his sin: she might have enough to bear, +without coldness from him; rather should he be doubly tender. + +"You did not tell me about it, love. Why have you gone out this evening?" +he asked reproachfully. + +"It has not harmed me. Indeed I will take care, for your sake. I should +never forgive myself." + +"I have thought since we married, Maude, that you did not much care for +me." + +Maude made no immediate answer. She was looking out straight before her, +her head on his shoulder, and Lord Hartledon saw that tears were +glistening in her eyes. + +"Yes, I do," she said at length; and as she spoke she felt very conscious +that she _was_ caring for him. His gentle kindness, his many attractions +were beginning to tell upon her heart; and a vision of the possible +future, when she should love him, crossed her then and there as she +stood. Lord Hartledon bent his face, and let it rest on hers. + +"We shall be happy yet, Val; and I will be as good as gold. To begin +with, we will leave London at once. I ought not to remain, and I know you +have not liked it all along. It would have been better to wait until next +year, when we could have had our own house; only I was impatient. I felt +proud of being married; of being your wife--I did indeed, Val--and I was +in a fever to be amidst my world of friends. And there's a real +confession!" she concluded, laughing. + +"Any more?" he asked, laughing with her. + +"I don't remember any more just now. Which day shall we go? You shall +manage things for me now: I won't be wilful again. Shall the servants go +on first to Hartledon, or with us?" + +"To Hartledon!" exclaimed Val. "Is it to Hartledon you think of going?" + +"Of course it is," she said, standing up and looking at him in surprise. +"Where else should I go?" + +"I thought you wished to go to Germany!" + +"And so I did; but that would not do now." + +"Then let us go to the seaside," he rather eagerly said. "Somewhere in +England." + +"No, I would rather go to Hartledon. In one's own home rest and comfort +can be insured; and I believe I require them. Don't you wish to go +there?" she added, watching his perplexed face. + +"No, I don't. The truth is, I cannot go to Hartledon." + +"Is it because you do not care to face the Ashtons? I see! You would like +to have this business settled first." + +Lord Hartledon hardly heard the words, as he stood leaning against the +open casement, gazing into the dark and misty past. No man ever shrank +from a prison as he shrank from Hartledon. + +"I cannot leave London at all just yet. Thomas Carr is remaining here for +me, when he ought to be on circuit, and I must stay with him. I wish you +would go anywhere else, rather than to Hartledon." + +The tone was so painfully earnest, that a momentary suspicion crossed her +of his having some other motive. It passed away almost as it arose, and +she accused him of being unreasonable. + +Unreasonable it did appear to be. "If you have any real reason to urge +against Hartledon, tell it me," she said. But he mentioned none--save +that it was his "wish" not to go. + +And Lady Hartledon, rather piqued, gave the necessary orders on the +following day for the removal. No further confidential converse, or +approach to it, took place between her and her husband; but up to the +last moment she thought he would relent and accompany her. Nothing of the +sort. He was anxious for her every comfort on the journey, and saw her +off himself: nothing more. + +"I never thought you would allow me to go alone," she resentfully +whispered, as he held her hand after she was seated in the train. + +He shook his head. "It is your fault, Maude. I told you I could not go to +Hartledon." + +And so she went down in rather an angry frame of mind. Many a time and +oft had she pictured to herself the triumph of their first visit to +Calne, the place where she had taken so much pains to win him: but the +arrival was certainly shorn of its glory. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +ASKING THE RECTOR. + + +Perhaps Lady Hartledon had never in all her life been so much astonished +as when she reached Hartledon, for the first person she saw there was her +mother: her mother, whom she had believed to be in some remote district +of Ireland. For the moment she almost wondered whether it was really +herself or her ghost. The countess-dowager came flying down the steps--if +that term may be applied to one of her age and size--with rather +demonstrative affection; which, however, was not cordially received. + +"What's the matter, Maude? How you stare!" + +"_Is_ it you, mamma? How _can_ it be you?" + +"How can it be me?" returned the dowager, giving Maude's bonnet a few +kisses. "It _is_ me, and that's enough. My goodness, Maude, how thin you +look! I see what it is! you've been killing yourself in that racketing +London. It's well I've come to take care of you." + +Maude went in, feeling that she could have taken care of herself, and +listening to the off-hand explanations of the countess-dowager. "Kirton +offended me," she said. "He and his wife are like two bears; and so I +packed up my things and came away at once, and got here straight from +Liverpool. And now you know." + +"And is Lady Kirton quite well again?" asked Maude, helplessly, knowing +she could not turn her mother out. + +"She'd be well enough but for temper. She _was_ ill, though, when they +telegraphed for me; her life for three days and nights hanging on a +shred. I told that fool of a Kirton before he married her that she had no +constitution. I suppose you and Hart were finely disappointed to find I +was not in London when you got there." + +"Agreeably disappointed, I think," said Maude, languidly. + +"Indeed! It's civil of you to say so." + +"On account of the smallness of the house," added Maude, endeavouring to +be polite. "We hardly knew how to manage in it ourselves." + +"You wrote me word to take it. As to me, I can accommodate myself to any +space. Where there's plenty of room, I take plenty; where there's not, I +can put up with a closet. I have made Mirrable give me my old rooms here: +you of course take Hart's now." + +"I am very tired," said Maude. "I think I will have some tea, and go to +bed." + +"Tea!" shrieked the dowager. "I have not yet had dinner. And it's +waiting; that's more." + +"You can dine without me, mamma," she said, walking upstairs to the new +rooms. The dowager stared, and followed her. There was an indescribable +something in Maude's manner that she did not like; it spoke of incipient +rebellion, of an influence that had been, but was now thrown off. If she +lost caste once, with Maude, she knew that she lost it for ever. + +"You could surely take a little dinner, Maude. You must keep up your +strength, you know." + +"Not any dinner, thank you. I shall be all right to-morrow, when I've +slept off my fatigue." + +"Well, I know I should like mine," grumbled the countess-dowager, feeling +her position in the house already altered from what it had been during +her former sojourn, when she assumed full authority, and ordered things +as she pleased, completely ignoring the new lord. + +"You can have it," said Maude. + +"They won't serve it until Hartledon arrives," was the aggrieved answer. +"I suppose he's walking up from the station. He always had a queer habit +of doing that." + +Maude lifted her eyes in slight surprise. Her solitary arrival was a +matter of fact so established to herself, that it sounded strange for any +one else to be in ignorance of it. + +"Lord Hartledon has not come down. He is remaining in London." + +The old dowager peered at Maude through her little eyes. "What's that +for?" + +"Business, I believe." + +"Don't tell me an untruth, Maude. You have quarrelled." + +"We have not quarrelled. We are perfectly good friends." + +"And do you mean to tell me that he sent you down alone?" + +"He sent the servants with me." + +"Don't be insolent, Maude. You know what I mean." + +"Why, mamma, I do not wish to be insolent. I can't tell you more, or +tell it differently. Lord Hartledon did not come down with me, and the +servants did." + +She spoke sharply. In her tired condition the petty conversation was +wearying her; and underlying everything else in her heart, was the +mortifying consciousness that he had _not_ come down with her, chafing +her temper almost beyond repression. Considering that Maude did not +profess to love her husband very much, it was astonishing how keenly she +felt this. + +"Are you and Hartledon upon good terms?" asked the countess-dowager after +a pause, during which she had never taken her eyes from her daughter's +face. + +"It would be early days to be on any other." + +"Oh," said the dowager. "And you did not write me word from Paris that +you found you had made a mistake, that you could not bear your husband! +Eh, Maude?" + +A tinge came into Maude's cheeks. "And you, mamma, told me that I was to +rule my husband with an iron hand, never allowing him to have a will of +his own, never consulting him! Both you and I were wrong," she continued +quietly. "I wrote that letter in a moment of irritation; and you were +assuming what has not proved to be a fact. I like my husband now quite +well enough to keep friends with him; his kindness to me is excessive; +but I find, with all my wish to rule him, if I had the wish, I could not +do it. He has a will of his own, and he exerts it in spite of me; and I +am quite sure he will continue to exert it, whenever he fancies he is in +the right. You never saw any one so changed from what he used to be." + +"How do you mean?" + +"I mean in asserting his own will. But he is changed in other ways. It +seems to me that he has never been quite the same man since that night in +the chapel. He has been more thoughtful; and all the old vacillation is +gone." + +The countess-dowager could not understand at all; neither did she +believe; and she only stared at Maude. + +"His _not_ coming down with me is a proof that he exercises his own will +now. I wished him to come very much, and he knew it; but you see he has +not done so." + +"And what do you say is keeping him?" repeated the countess-dowager. + +"Business--" + +"Ah," interrupted the dowager, before Maude could finish, "that's the +general excuse. Always suspect it, my dear." + +"Suspect what?" asked Maude. + +"When a man says that, and gets his wife out of the way with it, rely +upon it he is pursuing some nice little interests of his own." + +Lady Hartledon understood the implication; she felt nettled, and a flush +rose to her face. In her husband's loyalty (always excepting his feeling +towards Miss Ashton) she rested fully assured. + +"You did not allow me to finish," was the cold rejoinder. "Business _is_ +keeping him in town, for one thing; for another, I think he cannot get +over his dislike to face the Ashtons." + +"Rubbish!" cried the wrathful dowager. "He does not tell you what the +business is, does he?" she cynically added. + +"I happen to know," answered Maude. "The Ashtons are bringing an action +against him for breach of promise; and he and Mr. Carr the barrister are +trying to arrange it without its coming to a trial." + +The old lady opened her eyes and her mouth. + +"It is true. They lay the damages at ten thousand pounds!" + +With a shriek the countess-dowager began to dance. Ten thousand pounds! +Ten thousand pounds would keep her for ever, invested at good interest. +She called the parson some unworthy names. + +"I cannot give you any of the details," said Maude, in answer to the +questions pressed upon her. "Percival will never speak of it, or allow +me to do so. I learnt it--I can hardly tell you how I learnt it--by +implication, I think; for it was never expressly told me. We had a +mysterious visit one night from some old parson--parson or lawyer; and +Percival and Mr. Carr, who happened to be at our house, were closeted +with him for an hour or two. I saw they were agitated, and guessed what +it was; Dr. Ashton was bringing an action. They could not deny it." + +"The vile old hypocrite!" cried the incensed dowager. "Ten thousand +pounds! Are you sure it is as much as that, Maude?" + +"Quite. Mr. Carr told me the amount." + +"I wonder you encourage that man to your house." + +"It was one of the things I stood out against--fruitlessly," was the +quiet answer. "But I believe he means well to me; and I am sure he is +doing what he can to serve my husband. They are often together about this +business." + +"_Of course_ Hartledon resists the claim?" + +"I don't know. I think they are trying to compromise it, so that it shall +not come into court." + +"What does Hartledon think of it?" + +"It is worrying his life out. No, mamma, it is not too strong an +expression. He says nothing; but I can see that it is half killing him. +I don't believe he has slept properly since the news was brought to him." + +"What a simpleton he must be! And that man will stand up in the pulpit +to-morrow and preach of charity!" continued the dowager, turning her +animadversions upon Dr. Ashton. "You are a hypocrite too, Maude, for +trying to deceive me. You and Hartledon are _not_ on good terms; don't +tell me! He would never have let you come down alone." + +Lady Hartledon would not reply. She felt vexed with her mother, vexed +with her husband, vexed on all sides; and she took refuge in her fatigue +and was silent. + +The dowager went to church on the following day. Maude would not go. The +hot anger flushed into her face at the thought of showing herself there +for the first time, unaccompanied by her husband: to Maude's mind it +seemed that she must look to others so very much like a deserted wife. +She comes home alone; he stays in London! "Ah, why did he not come down +only for this one Sunday, and go back again--if he must have gone?" she +thought. + +A month or two ago Maude had not cared enough for him to reason like +this. The countess-dowager ensconced herself in a corner of the Hartledon +state-pew, and from her blinking eyes looked out upon the Ashtons. Anne, +with her once bright face looking rather wan, her modest demeanour; Mrs. +Ashton, so essentially a gentlewoman; the doctor, sensible, clever, +charitable, beyond all doubt a good man--a feeling came over the mind of +the sometimes obtuse woman that of all the people before her they looked +the least likely to enter on the sort of lawsuit spoken of by Maude. But +never a doubt occurred to her that they _had_ entered on it. + +Lady Hartledon remained at home, her prayer-book in her hand. She was +thinking she could steal out to the evening service; it might not be so +much noticed then, her being alone. Listlessly enough she sat, toying +with her prayer-book rather than reading it. She had never pretended to +be religious, had not been trained to be so; and reading a prayer-book, +when not in church, was quite unusual to her. But there are seasons in +a woman's life, times when peril is looked forward to, that bring thought +even to the most careless nature. Maude was trying to play at "being +good," and was reading the psalms for the day in an absent fashion, her +thoughts elsewhere; and the morning passed on. The quiet apathy of her +present state, compared with the restless fever which had stirred her +during her last sojourn at Hartledon, was remarkable. + +Suddenly there burst in upon her the countess-dowager: that estimable +lady's bonnet awry, her face scarlet, herself in a commotion. + +"I didn't suppose you'd have done it, Maude! You might play tricks upon +other people, I think, but not upon your own mother." + +The interlude was rather welcome to Maude, rousing her from her apathy. +Not for some few moments, however, could she understand the cause of +complaint. + +It appeared that the countess-dowager, with that absence of all sense of +the fitness of things which so eminently characterized her, had joined +the Ashtons after service, inquiring with quite motherly solicitude after +Mrs. Ashton's health, complimenting Anne upon her charming looks; making +herself, in short, as agreeable as she knew how, and completely ignoring +the past in regard to her son-in-law. Gentlewomen in mind and manners, +they did not repulse her, were even courteously civil; and she graciously +accompanied them across the road to the Rectory-gate, and there took a +cordial leave, saying she would look in on the morrow. + +In returning she met Dr. Ashton. He was passing her with nothing but a +bow; but he little knew the countess-dowager. She grasped his hand; said +how grieved she was not to have had an opportunity of explaining away her +part in the past; hoped he would let bygones be bygones; and finally, +whilst the clergyman was scheming how to get away from her without +absolute rudeness, she astonished him with a communication touching the +action-at-law. There ensued a little mutual misapprehension, followed by +a few emphatic words of denial from Dr. Ashton; and the countess-dowager +walked away with a scarlet face, and an explosion of anger against her +daughter. + +Lady Hartledon was not yet callous to the proprieties of life; and the +intrusion on the Ashtons, which her mother confessed to, half frightened, +half shamed her. But the dowager's wrath at having been misled bore down +everything. Dr. Ashton had entered no action whatever against Lord +Hartledon; had never thought of doing it. + +"And you, you wicked, ungrateful girl, to come home to me with such an +invention, and cause me to start off on a fool's errand! Do you suppose I +should have gone and humbled myself to those people, but for hoping to +bring the parson to a sense of what he was doing in going-in for those +enormous damages?" + +"I have not come home to you with any invention, mamma. Dr. Ashton has +entered the action." + +"He has not," raved the dowager. "It is an infamous hoax you have played +off upon me. You couldn't find any excuse for your husband's staying in +London, and so invented this. What with you, and what with Kirton's +ingratitude, I shall be driven out of house and home!" + +"I won't say another word until you are calm and can talk common sense," +said Maude, leaning back in her chair, and putting down her prayer-book. + +"Common sense! What am I talking but common sense? When a child begins to +mislead her own mother, the world ought to come to an end." + +Maude took no notice. + +There happened to be some water standing on a table, and the dowager +poured out a tumblerful and drank it, though not accustomed to the +beverage. Untying her bonnet-strings she sat down, a little calmer. + +"Perhaps you'll explain this at your convenience, Maude." + +"There is nothing to explain," was the answer. "What I told you was the +truth. The action _has_ been entered by the Ashtons." + +"And I tell you that the action has not." + +"I assure you that it has," returned Maude. "I told you of the evening we +first had notice of it, and the damages claimed; do you think I invented +that, or went to sleep and dreamt it? If Val has gone down once to that +Temple about it, he has gone fifty times. He would not go for pleasure." + +The countess-dowager sat fanning herself quietly: for her daughter's +words were gaining ground. + +"There's a mistake somewhere, Maude, and it is on your side and not mine. +I'll lay my life that no action has been entered by Dr. Ashton. The man +spoke the truth; I can read the truth when I see it as well as anyone: +his face flushed with pain and anger at such a thing being said of him. +It may not be difficult to explain this contradiction." + +"Do you think not?" returned Maude, her indifference exciting the +listener to anger. + +"_I_ should say Hartledon is deceiving you. If any action is entered +against him at all, it isn't that sort of action; or perhaps the young +lady is not Miss Ashton, but some other; he's just the kind of man to be +drawn into promising marriage to a dozen or two. Very clever of him to +palm you off with this tale: a man may get into five hundred troubles not +convenient to disclose to his wife." + +Except that Lady Hartledon's cheek flushed a little, she made no answer; +she held firmly--at least she thought she held firmly--to her own side +of the case. Her mother, on the contrary, adopted the new view, and +dismissed it from her thoughts accordingly. + +Maude went to church in the evening, sitting alone in the great pew, pale +and quiet. Anne Ashton was also alone; and the two whilom rivals, the +triumphant and the rejected, could survey each other to their heart's +content. + +Not very triumphant was Maude's feeling. Strange perhaps to say, the +suggestion of the old dowager, like instilled poison, was making its way +into her very veins. Her thoughts had been busy with the matter ever +since. One positive conviction lay in her heart--that Dr. Ashton, now +reading the first lesson before her, for he was taking the whole of the +service that evening, could not, under any circumstance, be guilty of a +false assertion or subterfuge. One solution of the difficulty presented +itself to her--that her mother, in her irascibility, had misunderstood +the Rector; and yet that was improbable. As Maude half sat, half lay back +in the pew, for the faint feeling was especially upon her that evening, +she thought she would give a great deal to set the matter at rest. + +When the service was over she took the more secluded way home; those of +the servants who had attended returning as usual by the road. On reaching +the turning where the three paths diverged, the faintness which had been +hovering over her all the evening suddenly grew worse; and but for a +friendly tree, she might have fallen. It grew better in a few moments, +but she did not yet quit her support. + +Very surprised was the Rector of Calne to come up and see Lady Hartledon +in this position. Every Sunday evening, after service, he went to visit +a man in one of the cottages, who was dying of consumption, and he was on +his way there now. He would have preferred to pass without speaking: but +Lady Hartledon looked in need of assistance; and in common Christian +kindness he could not pass her by. + +"I beg your pardon, Lady Hartledon. Are you ill?" + +She took his offered arm with her disengaged hand, as an additional +support; and her white face turned a shade whiter. + +"A sudden faintness overtook me. I am better now," she said, when able to +speak. + +"Will you allow me to walk on with you?" + +"Thank you; just a little way. If you will not mind it." + +That he must have understood the feeling which prompted the concluding +words was undoubted: and perhaps had Lady Hartledon been in possession +of her keenest senses, she might never have spoken them. Pride and health +go out of us together. Dr. Ashton took her on his arm, and they walked +slowly in the direction of the little bridge. Colour was returning to her +face, strength to her frame. + +"The heat of the day has affected you, possibly?" + +"Yes, perhaps; I have felt faint at times lately. The church was very hot +to-night." + +Nothing more was said until the bridge was gained, and then Maude +released his arm. + +"Dr. Ashton, I thank you very much. You have been a friend in need." + +"But are you sure you are strong enough to go on alone? I will escort you +to the house if you are not." + +"Quite strong enough now. Thank you once again." + +As he was bowing his farewell, a sudden impulse to speak, and set the +matter that was troubling her at rest, came over her. Without a moment's +deliberation, without weighing her words, she rushed upon it; the +ostensible plea an apology for her mother's having spoken to him. + +"Yes, I told Lady Kirton she was labouring under some misapprehension," +he quietly answered. + +"Will you forgive _me_ also for speaking of it?" she murmured. "Since my +mother came home with the news of what you said, I have been lost in a +sea of conjecture: I could not attend to the service for dwelling upon +it, and might as well not have been in church--a curious confession to +make to you, Dr. Ashton. Is it indeed true that you know nothing of +the matter?" + +"Lady Kirton told me in so many words that I had entered an action +against Lord Hartledon for breach of promise, and laid the damages at ten +thousand pounds," returned Dr. Ashton, with a plainness of speech and a +cynical manner that made her blush. And she saw at once that he had done +nothing of the sort; saw it without any more decisive denial. + +"But the action has been entered," said Lady Hartledon. + +"I beg your pardon, madam. Lord Hartledon is, I should imagine, the only +man living who could suppose me capable of such a thing." + +"And you have _not_ entered on it!" she reiterated, half bewildered by +the denial. + +"Most certainly not. When I parted with Lord Hartledon on a certain +evening, which probably your ladyship remembers, I washed my hands of him +for good, desiring never to approach him in any way whatever, never hear +of him, never see him again. Your husband, madam, is safe for me: I +desire nothing better than to forget that such a man is in existence." + +Lifting his hat, he walked away. And Lady Hartledon stood and gazed after +him as one in a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +MR. CARR AT WORK. + + +Thomas Carr was threading his way through the mazy precincts of Gray's +Inn, with that quick step and absorbed manner known only, I think, to the +busy man of our busy metropolis. He was on his way to make some inquiries +of a firm of solicitors, Messrs. Kedge and Reck, strangers to him in all +but name. + +Up some dark and dingy stairs, he knocked at a dark and dingy door: +which, after a minute, opened of itself by some ingenious contrivance, +and let him into a passage, whence he turned into a room, where two +clerks were writing at a desk. + +"Can I see Mr. Kedge?" + +"Not in," said one of the clerks, without looking up. + +"Mr. Reck, then?" + +"Not in." + +"When will either of them be in?" continued the barrister; thinking that +if he were Messrs. Kedge and Reck the clerk would get his discharge for +incivility. + +"Can't say. What's your business?" + +"My business is with them: not with you." + +"You can see the managing clerk." + +"I wish to see one of the partners." + +"Could you give your name?" continued the gentleman, equably. + +Mr. Carr handed in his card. The clerk glanced at it, and surreptitiously +showed it to his companion; and both of them looked up at him. Mr. Carr +of the Temple was known by reputation, and they condescended to become +civil. + +"Take a seat for a moment, sir," said the one. "I'll inquire how long Mr. +Kedge will be; but Mr. Reek's not in town to-day." + +A few minutes, and Thomas Carr found himself in a small square room with +the head of the firm, a youngish man and somewhat of a dandy, especially +genial in manner, as though in contrast to his clerk. He welcomed the +rising barrister. + +"There's as much difficulty in getting to see you as if you were Pope of +Rome," cried Mr. Carr, good humouredly. + +The lawyer laughed. "Hopkins did not know you: and strangers are +generally introduced to Mr. Reck, or to our managing clerk. What can +I do for you, Mr. Carr?" + +"I don't know that you can do anything for me," said Mr. Carr, seating +himself; "but I hope you can. At the present moment I am engaged in +sifting a piece of complicated business for a friend; a private matter +entirely, which it is necessary to keep private. I am greatly interested +in it myself, as you may readily believe, when it is keeping me from +circuit. Indeed it may almost be called my own affair," he added, +observing the eyes of the lawyer fixed upon him, and not caring they +should see into his business too clearly. "I fancy you have a clerk, or +had a clerk, who is cognizant of one or two points in regard to it: can +you put me in the way of finding out where he is? His name is Gordon." + +"Gordon! We have no clerk of that name. Never had one, that I remember. +How came you to fancy it?" + +"I heard it from my own clerk, Taylor. One day last week I happened to +say before him that I'd give a five-pound note out of my pocket to get +at the present whereabouts of this man Gordon. Taylor is a shrewd +fellow; full of useful bits of information, and knows, I really believe, +three-fourths of London by name. He immediately said a young man of that +name was with Messrs. Kedge and Reck, of Gray's Inn, either as clerk, or +in some other capacity; and when he described this clerk of yours, I felt +nearly sure that it was the man I am looking for. I got Taylor to make +inquiries, and he did, I believe, of one of your clerks; but he could +learn nothing, except that no one of that name was connected with you +now. Taylor persists that he is or was connected with you; and so +I thought the shortest plan to settle the matter was to ask yourselves." + +"We have no clerk of that name," repeated Mr. Kedge, pushing back some +papers on the table. "Never had one." + +"Understand," said Mr. Carr, thinking it just possible the lawyer might +be mistaking his motives, "I have nothing to allege against the man, and +do not seek to injure him. The real fact is, that I do not want to see +him or to be brought into personal contact with him; I only want to know +whether he is in London, and, if so, where?" + +"I assure you he is not connected with us," repeated Mr. Kedge. "I would +tell you so in a moment if he were." + +"Then I can only apologise for having troubled you," said the barrister, +rising. "Taylor must have been mistaken. And yet I would have backed his +word, when he positively asserts a thing, against the world. I hardly +ever knew him wrong." + +Mr. Kedge was playing with the locket on his watch-chain, his head bent +in thought. + +"Wait a moment, Mr. Carr. I remember now that we took a clerk temporarily +into the office in the latter part of last year. His writing did not +suit, and we kept him only a week or two. I don't know what his name was, +but it might have been Gordon." + +"Do you remember what sort of a man he was?" asked Mr. Carr, somewhat +eagerly. + +"I really do not. You see, I don't come much into contact with our +clerks. Reck does; but he's not here to-day. I fancy he had red hair." + +"Gordon had reddish hair." + +"You had better see Kimberly," said the solicitor, ringing a bell. "He is +our managing clerk, and knows everything." + +A grey-haired, silent-looking man came in with stooping shoulders. Mr. +Kedge, without any circumlocution, asked whether he remembered any clerk +of the name of Gordon having been in the house. Mr. Kimberly responded by +saying that they never had one in the house of the name. + +"Well, I thought not," observed the principal. "There was one had in for +a short time, you know, while Hopkins was ill. I forget his name." + +"His name was Druitt, sir. We employed a man of the name of Gorton to do +some outdoor business for us at times," continued the managing clerk, +turning his eyes on the barrister; "but not lately." + +"What sort of business?" + +"Serving writs." + +"Gorton is not Gordon," remarked Mr. Kedge, with legal acumen. "By the +way, Kimberly, I have heard nothing of Gorton lately. What has become of +him?" + +"I have not the least idea, sir. We parted in a huff, so he wouldn't +perhaps be likely to come in my way again. Some business that he +mismanaged, if you remember, sir, down at Calne." + +"When he arrested one man for another," laughed the lawyer, "and got +entangled in a coroner's inquest, and I don't know what all." + +Mr. Carr had pricked up his ears, scarcely daring to breathe. But his +manner was careless to a degree. + +"The man he arrested being Lord Hartledon; the man he ought to have +arrested being the Honourable Percival Elster," he interposed, laughing. + +"What! do you know about it?" cried the lawyer. + +"I remember hearing of it; I was intimate with Mr. Elster at the time." + +"He has since become Lord Hartledon." + +"Yes. But about this Gorton! I should not be in the least surprised if he +is the man I am inquiring for. Can you describe him to me, Mr. Kimberly?" + +"He is a short, slight man, under thirty, with red hair and whiskers." + +Mr. Carr nodded. + +"Light hair with a reddish tinge it has been described to me. Do you +happen to be at all acquainted with his antecedents?" + +"Not I; I know nothing about, the man," said Mr. Kedge. "Kimberly does, +perhaps." + +"No, sir," dissented Kimberly. "He had been to Australia, I believe; and +that's all I know about him." + +"It is the same man," said Mr. Carr, quietly. "And if you can tell me +anything about him," he continued, turning to the older man, "I shall be +exceedingly obliged to you. To begin with--when did you first know him?" + +But at this juncture an interruption occurred. Hopkins the discourteous +came in with a card, which he presented to his principal. The gentleman +was waiting to see Mr. Kedge. Two more clients were also waiting, he +added, Thomas Carr rose, and the end of it was that he went with Mr. +Kimberly to his own room. + +"It's Carr of the Inner Temple," whispered Mr. Kedge in his clerk's ear. + +"Oh, I know him, sir." + +"All right. If you can help him, do so." + +"I first knew Gorton about fifteen months ago," observed the clerk, when +they were shut in together. "A friend of mine, now dead, spoke of him to +me as a respectable young fellow who had fallen in the world, and asked +if I could help him to some employment. I think he told me somewhat of +his history; but I quite forget it. I know he was very low down then, +with scarcely bread to eat." + +"Did this friend of yours call him Gorton or Gordon?" interrupted Mr. +Carr. + +"Gorton. I never heard him called Gordon at all. I remember seeing a +book of his that he seemed to set some store by. It was printed in old +English, and had his name on the title-page: 'George Gorton. From his +affectionate father, W. Gorton.' I employed him in some outdoor work. +He knew London perfectly well, and seemed to know people too." + +"And he had been to Australia?" + +"He had been to Australia, I feel sure. One day he accidentally let slip +some words about Melbourne, which he could not well have done unless he +had seen the place. I taxed him with it, and he shuffled out of it with +some excuse; but in such a manner as to convince me he had been there." + +"And now, Mr. Kimberly, I am going to ask you another question. You spoke +of his having been at Calne; I infer that you sent him to the place on +the errand to Mr. Elster. Try to recollect whether his going there was +your own spontaneous act, or whether he was the original mover in the +journey?" + +The grey-haired clerk looked up as though not understanding. + +"You don't quite take me, I see." + +"Yes I do, sir; but I was thinking. So far as I can recollect, it was our +own spontaneous act. I am sure I had no reason to think otherwise at the +time. We had had a deal of trouble with the Honourable Mr. Elster; and +when it was found that he had left town for the family seat, we came to +the resolution to arrest him." + +Thomas Carr paused. "Do you know anything of Gordon's--or Gorton's doings +in Calne? Did you ever hear him speak of them afterwards?" + +"I don't know that I did particularly. The excuse he made to us for +arresting Lord Hartledon was, that the brothers were so much alike he +mistook the one for the other." + +"Which would infer that he knew Mr. Elster by sight." + +"It might; yes. It was not for the mistake that we discharged him; +indeed, not for anything at all connected with Calne. He did seem to have +gone about his business there in a very loose way, and to have paid less +attention to our interests than to the gossip of the place; of which +there was a tolerable amount just then, on account of Lord Hartledon's +unfortunate death. Gorton was set upon another job or two when he +returned; and one of those he contrived to mismanage so woefully, that +I would give him no more to do. It struck me that he must drink, or else +was accessible to a bribe." + +Mr. Carr nodded his head, thinking the latter more than probable. His +fingers were playing with a newspaper which happened to lie on the +clerk's desk; and he put the next question with a very well-assumed air +of carelessness, as if it were but the passing thought of the moment. + +"Did he ever talk about Mr. Elster?" + +"Never but once. He came to my house one evening to tell me he had +discovered the hiding-place of a gentleman we were looking for. I was +taking my solitary glass of gin and water after supper, the only +stimulant I ever touch--and that by the doctor's orders--and I could not +do less than ask him to help himself. You see, sir, we did not look upon +him as a common sheriff's man: and he helped himself pretty freely. That +made him talkative. I fancy his head cannot stand much; and he began +rambling upon recent affairs at Calne; he had not been back above a week +then--" + +"And he spoke of Mr. Elster?" + +"He spoke a good deal of him as the new Lord Hartledon, all in a rambling +sort of way. He hinted that it might be in his power to bring home to him +some great crime." + +"The man must have been drunk indeed!" remarked Mr. Carr, with the most +perfect assumption of indifference; a very contrast to the fear that shot +through his heart. "What crime, pray? I hope he particularized it." + +"What he seemed to hint at was some unfair play in connection with his +brother's death," said the old clerk, lowering his voice. "'A man at his +wits' end for money would do many queer things,' he remarked." + +Mr. Carr's eyes flashed. "What a dangerous fool he must be! You surely +did not listen to him!" + +"I, sir! I stopped him pretty quickly, and bade him sew up his mouth +until he came to his sober senses again. Oh, they make great simpletons +of themselves, some of these young fellows, when they get a little drink +into them." + +"They do," said the barrister. "Did he ever allude to the matter again?" + +"Never; and when I saw him the next day, he seemed ashamed of himself, +and asked if he had not been talking a lot of nonsense. About a fortnight +after that we parted, and I have never seen him since." + +"And you really do not know what has become of him?" + +"Not at all. I should think he has left London." + +"Why?" + +"Because had he remained in it he'd be sure to have come bothering me to +employ him again; unless, indeed, he has found some one else to do it." + +"Well," said Mr. Carr, rising, "will you do me this favour? If you come +across the man again, or learn tidings of him in any way, let me know it +at once. I do not want him to hear of me, or that I have made inquiries +about him. I only wish to ascertain _where_ he is, if that be possible. +Any one bringing me this information privately will find it well worth +his while." + +He went forth into the busy streets again, sick at heart; and upon +reaching his chambers wrote a note for a detective officer, and put some +business into his hands. + +Meanwhile Lord Hartledon remained in London. When the term for which +they had engaged the furnished house was expired he took lodgings in +Grafton Street; and there he stayed, his frame of mind restless and +unsatisfactory. Lady Hartledon wrote to him sometimes, and he answered +her. She said not a word about the discovery she had made in regard to +the alleged action-at-law; but she never failed in every letter to ask +what he was doing, and when he was coming home--meaning to Hartledon. +He put her off in the best way he could: he and Carr were very busy +together, he said: as to home, he could not mention any particular time. +And Lady Hartledon bottled up her curiosity and her wrath, and waited +with what patience she possessed. + +The truth was--and, perhaps, the reader may have divined it--that graver +motives than the sensitive feeling of not liking to face the Ashtons were +keeping Lord Hartledon from his wife and home. He had once, in his +bachelor days, wished himself a savage in some remote desert, where his +civilized acquaintance could not come near him; he had a thousand times +more reason to wish himself one now. + +One dusty day, when the excessive heat of summer was on the wane, he went +down to Mr. Carr's chambers, and found that gentleman out. Not out for +long, the clerk thought; and sat down and waited. The room he was in +looked out on the cool garden, the quiet river; in the one there was not +a soul except Mr. Broom himself, who had gone in to watch the progress +of his chrysanthemums, and was stooping lovingly over the beds; on the +other a steamer, freighted with a straggling few, was paddling up the +river against the tide, and a barge with its brown sail was coming down +in all its picturesque charm. The contrast between this quiet scene and +the bustling, dusty, jostling world he had come in from, was grateful +even to his disturbed heart; and he felt half inclined to go round to +the garden and fling himself on the lawn as a man might do who was free +from care. + +Mr. Carr indulged in the costly luxury of three rooms in the Temple; his +sitting-room, which was his work-room, a bedroom, and a little outer +room, the sanctum of his clerk. Lord Hartledon was in the sitting-room, +but he could hear the clerk moving about in the ante-room, as if he had +no writing on hand that morning. When tired of waiting, he called him in. + +"Mr. Taylor, how long do you think he will be? I've been dozing, I +think." + +"Well, I thought he'd have been here before now, my lord. He generally +tells me if he is going out for any length of time; but he said nothing +to-day." + +"A newspaper would be something to while away one's time, or a book," +grumbled Hartledon. "Not those," glancing at a book-case full of +ponderous law-volumes. + +"Your lordship has taken the cream out of them already," remarked the +clerk, with a laugh; and Hartledon's brow knitted at the words. He had +"taken the cream" out of those old law-books, if studying them could do +it, for he had been at them pretty often of late. + +But Mr. Taylor's remarks had no ulterior meaning. Being a shrewd man, he +could not fail to suspect that Lord Hartledon was in a scrape of some +sort; but from a word dropped by his master he supposed it to involve +nothing more than a question of debt; and he never suspected that the +word had been dropped purposely. "Scamps would claim money twice over +when they could," said Mr. Carr; and Elster was a careless man, always +losing his receipts. He was a short, slight man, this clerk--in build +something like his master--with an intelligent, silent face, a small, +sharp nose, and fair hair. He had been born a gentleman, he was wont to +say; and indeed he looked one; but he had not received an education +commensurate with that fact, and had to make his own way in the world. +He might do it yet, perhaps, he remarked one day to Lord Hartledon; and +certainly, if steady perseverance could effect it, he would: all his +spare time was spent in study. + +"He has not gone to one of those blessed consultations in somebody's +chambers, has he?" cried Val. "I have known them last three hours." + +"I have known them last longer than that," said the clerk equably. "But +there are none on just now." + +"I can't think what has become of him. He made an appointment with me for +this morning. And where's his _Times_?" + +Mr. Taylor could not tell where; he had been looking for the newspaper on +his own account. It was not to be found; and they could only come to the +conclusion that the barrister had taken it out with him. + +"I wish you'd go out and buy me one," said Val. + +"I'll go with pleasure, my lord. But suppose any one comes to the door?" + +"Oh, I'll answer it. They'll think Carr has taken on a new clerk." + +Mr. Taylor laughed, and went out. Hartledon, tired of sitting, began +to pace the room and the ante-room. Most men would have taken their +departure; but he had nothing to do; he had latterly shunned that portion +of the world called society; and was as well in Mr. Carr's chambers as +in his own lodgings, or in strolling about with his troubled heart. +While thus occupied, there came a soft tap to the outer door--as was +sure to be the case, the clerk being absent--and Val opened it. A +middle-aged, quiet-looking man stood there, who had nothing specially +noticeable in his appearance, except a pair of deep-set dark eyes, under +bushy eyebrows that were turning grey. + +"Mr. Carr within?" + +"Mr. Carr's not in," replied the temporary clerk. "I dare say you can +wait." + +"Likely to be long?" + +"I should think not. I have been waiting for him these two hours." + +The applicant entered, and sat down in the clerk's room. Lord Hartledon +went into the other, and stood drumming on the window-pane, as he gazed +out upon the Temple garden. + +"I'd go, but for that note of Carr's," he said to himself. "If--Halloa! +that's his voice at last." + +Mr. Carr and his clerk had returned together. The former, after a few +moments, came in to Lord Hartledon. + +"A nice fellow you are, Carr! Sending me word to be here at eleven +o'clock, and then walking off for two mortal hours!" + +"I sent you word to wait for me at your own home!" + +"Well, that's good!" returned Val. "It said, 'Be here at eleven,' as +plainly as writing could say it." + +"And there was a postscript over the leaf telling you, on second thought, +_not_ to be here, but to wait at home for me," said Mr. Carr. "I +remembered a matter of business that would take me up your way this +morning, and thought I'd go on to you. It's just your careless fashion, +Hartledon, reading only half your letters! You should have turned it +over." + +"Who was to think there was anything on the other side? Folk don't turn +their letters over from curiosity when they are concluded on the first +page." + +"I never had a letter in my life but I turned it over to make sure," +observed the more careful barrister. "I have had my walk for nothing." + +"And I have been cooling my heels here! And you took the newspaper with +you!" + +"No, I did not. Churton sent in from his rooms to borrow it." + +"Well, let the misunderstanding go, and forgive me for being cross. Do +you know, Carr, I think I am growing ill-tempered from trouble. What +news have you for me?" + +"I'll tell you by-and-by. Do you know who that is in the other room?" + +"Not I. He seemed to stare me inside-out in a quiet way as I let him in." + +"Ay. It's Green, the detective. At times a question occurs to me whether +that's his real name, or one assumed in his profession. He has come to +report at last. Had you better remain?" + +"Why not?" + +Mr. Carr looked dubious. + +"You can make some excuse for my presence." + +"It's not that. I'm thinking if you let slip a word--" + +"Is it likely?" + +"Inadvertently, I mean." + +"There's no fear. You have not mentioned my name to him?" + +"I retort in your own words--Is it likely? He does not know why he is +being employed or what I want with the man I wish traced. At present he +is working, as far as that goes, in the dark. I might have put him on a +false scent, just as cleverly and unsuspiciously as I dare say he could +put me; but I've not done it. What's the matter with you to-day, +Hartledon? You look ill." + +"I only look what I am, then," was the answer. "But I'm no worse +than usual. I'd rather be transported--I'd rather be hanged, for that +matter--than lead the life of misery I am leading. At times I feel +inclined to give in, but then comes the thought of Maude." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +SOMEBODY ELSE AT WORK. + + +They were shut in together: the detective officer, Mr. Carr, and Lord +Hartledon. "You may speak freely before this gentleman," observed Mr. +Carr, as if in apology for a third being present. "He knows the parties, +and is almost as much interested in the affair as I am." + +The detective glanced at Lord Hartledon with his deep eyes, but he did +not know him, and took out a note-book, on which some words and figures +were dotted down, hieroglyphics to any one's eyes but his own. Squaring +his elbows on the table, he begun abruptly; and appeared to have a habit +of cutting short his words and sentences. + +"Haven't succeeded yet as could wish, Mr. Carr; at least not altogether: +have had to be longer over it, too, than thought for. George Gordon: +Scotch birth, so far as can learn; left an orphan; lived mostly in +London. Served time to medical practitioner, locality Paddington. Idle, +visionary, loose in conduct, good-natured, fond of roving. Surgeon +wouldn't keep him as assistant; might have done it, he says, had G.G. +been of settled disposition: saw him in drink three times. Next turns +up in Scotland, assistant to a doctor there; name Mair, locality +Kirkcudbrightshire. Remained less than a year; left, saying was going +to Australia. So far," broke off the speaker, raising his eyes to Mr. +Carr's, "particulars tally with the information supplied by you." + +"Just so." + +"Then my further work began," continued Mr. Green. "Afraid what I've got +together won't be satisfactory; differ from you in opinion, at any rate. +G.G. went to Australia; no doubt of that; friend of his got a letter or +two from him while there: last one enclosed two ten-pound notes, borrowed +by G.G. before he went out. Last letter said been up to the diggings; +very successful; coming home with his money, mentioned ship he meant to +sail in. Hadn't been in Australia twelve months." + +"Who was the friend?" asked Mr. Carr. + +"Respectable man; gentleman; former fellow-pupil with Gordon in London; +in good practice for himself now; locality Kensington. After last letter, +friend perpetually looking out for G.G. G.G. did not make his appearance; +conclusion friend draws is he did not come back. Feels sure Gordon, +whether rich or poor, in ill-report or good-report, would have come +direct to him." + +"I happen to know that he did come back," said Mr. Carr. + +"Don't think it," was the unceremonious rejoinder. + +"I know it positively. And that he was in London." + +The detective looked over his notes, as if completely ignoring Mr. Carr's +words. + +"You heard, gentlemen, of that mutiny on board the ship _Morning Star_, +some three years ago? Made a noise at the time." + +"Well?" + +"Ringleader was this same man, George Gordon." + +"No!" exclaimed Mr. Carr. + +"No reasonable doubt about it. Friend of his feels none: can't +understand how G.G. could have turned suddenly cruel; never was that. +Pooh! when men have been leading lawless lives in the bush, perhaps taken +regularly to drinking--which G.G. was inclined to before--they're ready +for any crime under the sun." + +"But how do you connect Gordon with the ringleader of that diabolical +mutiny?" + +"Easy enough. Same name, George Gordon: wrote to a friend the ship he was +coming home in--_Morning Star_. It _was_ the same; price on G.G.'s head +to this day: shouldn't mind getting it. Needn't pother over it, sir; +'twas Gordon: but he'd never put his foot in London." + +"If true, it would account for his not showing himself to his +friend--assuming that he did come back," observed Mr. Carr. + +"Friend says not. Sure that G.G., whatever he might have been guilty of, +would go to him direct; knew he might depend on him in any trouble. A +proof, he argues, that G.G. never came back." + +"But I tell you he did come back," repeated the barrister. "Strange the +similarity of name never struck me," he added, turning to Lord Hartledon. +"I took some interest in that mutiny at the time; but it never occurred +to me to connect this man or his name with it. A noted name, at any rate, +if not a very common one." + +Lord Hartledon nodded. He had sat silent throughout, a little apart, his +face somewhat turned from them, as though the business did not concern +him. + +"And now I will relate to you what more I know of Gordon," resumed Mr. +Carr, moving his chair nearer the detective, and so partially screening +Lord Hartledon. "He was in London last year, employed by Kedge and Reck, +of Gray's Inn, to serve writs. What he had done with himself from the +time of the mutiny--allowing that he was identical with the Gordon of +that business--I dare say no one living could tell, himself excepted. He +was calling himself Gorton last autumn. Not much of a change from his own +name." + +"George Gorton," assented the detective. + +"Yes, George Gorton. I knew this much when I first applied to you. +I did not mention it because I preferred to let you go to work without +it. Understand me; that it is the same man, I _know_; but there are +nevertheless discrepancies in the case that I cannot reconcile; and I +thought you might possibly arrive at some knowledge of the man without +this clue better than with it." + +"Sorry to differ from you, Mr. Carr; must hold to the belief that George +Gorton, employed at Kedge and Reck's, was not the same man at all," came +the cool and obstinate rejoinder. "Have sifted the apparent similarity +between the two, and drawn conclusions accordingly." + +The remark implied that the detective was wiser on the subject of George +Gorton than Mr. Carr had bargained for, and a shadow of apprehension +stole over him. It was by no means his wish that the sharp detective and +the man should come into contact with each other; all he wanted was to +find out where he was at present, _not_ that he should be meddled with. +This he had fully explained in the first instance, and the other had +acquiesced in his curt way. + +"You are thinking me uncommon clever, getting on the track of George +Gorton, when nothing on the surface connects him with the man wanted," +remarked the detective, with professional vanity. "Came upon it +accidentally; as well confess it; don't want to assume more credit than's +due. It was in this way. Evening following your instructions, had to see +managing clerk of Kedge and Reck; was engaged on a little matter for +them. Business over, he asked me if I knew anything of a man named George +Gorton, or Gordon--as I seemed to know something of pretty well +everybody. Having just been asked here about George Gordon, I naturally +connected the two questions together. Inquired of Kimberly _why_ he +suspected his clerk Gorton should be Gordon; Kimberly replied he did not +suspect him, but a gentleman did, who had been there that day. This put +me on Gorton's track." + +"And you followed it up?" + +"Of course; keeping my own counsel. Took it up in haste, though; no +deliberation; went off to Calne, without first comparing notes with +Gordon's friend the surgeon." + +"To Calne!" explained Mr. Carr, while Lord Hartledon turned his head and +took a sharp look at the speaker. + +A nod was the only answer. "Got down; thought at first as you do, Mr. +Carr, that man was the same, and was on right track. Went to work in my +own way; was a countryman just come into a snug bit of inheritance, +looking out for a corner of land. Wormed out a bit here and a bit there; +heard this from one, that from another; nearly got an interview with my +Lord Hartledon himself, as candidate for one of his farms." + +"Lord Hartledon was not at Calne, I think," interrupted Mr. Carr, +speaking impulsively. + +"Know it now; didn't then; and wanted, for own purposes, to get a sight +of him and a word with him. Went to his place: saw a queer old creature +in yellow gauze; saw my lord's wife, too, at a distance; fine woman; got +intimate with butler, named Hedges; got intimate with two or three more; +altogether turned the recent doings of Mr. Gorton inside out." + +"Well?" said Mr. Carr, in his surprise. + +"Care to hear 'em?" continued the detective, after a moment's pause; and +a feeling crossed Mr. Carr, that if ever he had a deep man to deal with +it was this one, in spite of his apparent simplicity. "Gorton went down +on his errand for Kedge and Reck, writ in pocket for Mr. Elster; had +boasted he knew him. Can't quite make out whether he did or not; any +rate, served writ on Lord Hartledon by mistake. Lordship made a joke of +it; took up the matter as a brother ought; wrote himself to Kedge and +Reck to get it settled. Brothers quarrelled; day or two, and elder was +drowned, nobody seems to know how. Gorton stopped on, against orders from +Kimberly; said afterwards, by way of excuse, had been served with summons +to attend inquest. Couldn't say much at inquest, or _didn't_; was asked +if he witnessed accident; said 'No,' but some still think he did. Showed +himself at Hartledon afterwards trying to get interview with new lord; +new lord wouldn't see him, and butler turned him out. Gorton in a rage, +went back to inn, got some drink, said he might be able to _make_ his +lordship see him yet; hinted at some secret, but too far gone to know +what he said; began boasting of adventures in Australia. Loose man there, +one Pike, took him in charge, and saw him off by rail for London." + +"Yes?" said Mr. Carr, for the speaker had stopped. + +"That's pretty near all as far as Gorton goes. Got a clue to an address +in London, where he might be heard of: got it oddly, too; but that's no +matter. Came up again and went to address; could learn nothing; tracked +here, tracked there, both for Gordon and Gorton; found Gorton disappeared +close upon time he was cast adrift by Kimberly. Not in London as far as +can be traced; where gone, can't tell yet. So much done, summed up my +experiences and came here to-day to state them." + +"Proceed," said Mr. Carr. + +The detective put his note-book in his pocket, and with his elbows still +on the table, pressed his fingers together alternately as he stated his +points, speaking less abruptly than before. + +"My conclusion is--the Gordon you spoke to me about was the Gordon who +led the mutiny on board the _Morning Star_; that he never, after that, +came back to England; has never been heard of, in short, by any living +soul in it. That the Gorton employed by Kedge and Reck was another man +altogether. Neither is to be traced; the one may have found his grave in +the sea years ago; the other has disappeared out of London life since +last October, and I can't trace how or where." + +Mr. Carr listened in silence. To reiterate that the two men were +identical, would have been waste of time, since he could not avow how +he knew it, or give the faintest clue. The detective himself had +unconsciously furnished a proof. + +"Will you tell me your grounds for believing them to be different men?" +he asked. + +"Nay," said the keen detective, "the shortest way would be for you to +give me your grounds for thinking them to be the same." + +"I cannot do it," said Mr. Carr. "It might involve--no, I cannot do it." + +"Well, I suspected so. I don't mind mentioning one or two on my side. +The description of Gorton, as I had it from Kimberly, does not accord +with that of Gordon as given me by his friend the surgeon. I wrote out +the description of Gorton, and took it to him. 'Is this Gordon?' I +asked. 'No, it is not,' said he; and I'm sure he spoke the truth." + +"Gordon, on his return from Australia, might be a different-looking man +from the Gordon who went to it." + +"And would be, no doubt. But see here: Gorton was not disguised; Gordon +would not dare to be in London without being so; his head's not worth a +day's purchase. Fancy his walking about with only one letter in his name +altered! Rely upon it, Mr. Carr, you are mistaken; Gordon would no more +dare come back and put his head into the lion's mouth than you'd jump +into a fiery furnace. He couldn't land without being dropped upon: the +man was no common offender, and we've kept our eyes open. And that's +all," added the detective, after a pause. "Not very satisfactory, is it, +Mr. Carr? But, such as it is, I think you may rely upon it, in spite of +your own opinion. Meanwhile, I'll keep on the look-out for Gorton, and +tell you if he turns up." + +The conference was over, and Mr. Green took his departure. Thomas Carr +saw him out himself, returned and sat down in a reverie. + +"It's a curious tale," said Lord Hartledon. + +"I'm thinking how the fact, now disclosed, of Gordon's being Gordon of +the mutiny, affects you," remarked Mr. Carr. + +"You believe him to be the same?" + +"I see no reason to doubt it. It's not probable that two George Gordons +should take their passage home in the _Morning Star_. Besides, it +explains points that seemed incomprehensible. I could not understand +why you were not troubled by this man, but rely upon it he has found it +expedient to go into effectual hiding, and dare not yet come out of it. +This fact is a very great hold upon him; and if he turns round on you, +you may keep him in check with it. Only let me alight on him; I'll so +frighten him as to cause him to ship himself off for life." + +"I don't like that detective's having gone down to Calne," remarked Lord +Hartledon. + +Neither did Mr. Carr, especially if Gordon, or Gorton, should have become +talkative, as there was reason to believe he had. + +"Gordon is in England, and in hiding; probably in London, for there's no +place where you may hide so effectually. One thing I am astonished at: +that he should show himself openly as George Gorton." + +"Look here, Carr," said Lord Hartledon, leaning forward; "I don't +believe, in spite of you and the detective, that Gordon, our Gordon, was +the one connected with the mutiny. I might possibly get a description +of that man from Gum of Calne; for his son was coming home in the same +ship--was one of those killed." + +"Who's Gum of Calne?" + +"The parish clerk, and a very respectable man. Mirrable, our housekeeper +whom you have seen, is related to them. Gum went to Liverpool at the +time, I know, and saw the remnant of the passengers those pirates had +spared; he was sure to hear a full description of Gordon. If ever I visit +Hartledon again I'll ask him." + +"If ever you visit Hartledon again!" echoed Mr. Carr. "Unless you leave +the country--as I advise you to do--you cannot help visiting Hartledon." + +"Well, I would almost as soon be hanged!" cried Val. "And now, what do +you want me for, and why have you kept me here?" + +Mr. Carr drew his chair nearer to Lord Hartledon. They alone knew their +own troubles, and sat talking long after the afternoon was over. Mr. +Taylor came to the room; it was past his usual hour of departure. + +"I suppose I can go, sir?" + +"Not just yet," replied Mr. Carr. + +Hartledon took out his watch, and wondered whether it had been galloping, +when he saw how late it was. "You'll come home and dine with me, Carr?" + +"I'll follow you, if you like," was the reply. "I have a matter or two to +attend to first." + +A few minutes more, and Lord Hartledon and his care went out. Mr. Carr +called in his clerk. + +"I want to know how you came to learn that the man I asked you about, +Gordon, was employed by Kedge and Reck?" + +"I heard it through a man named Druitt," was the ready answer. "Happening +to ask him--as I did several people--whether he knew any George Gordon, +he at once said that a man of that name was at Kedge and Reck's, where +Druitt himself had been temporarily employed." + +"Ah," said Mr. Carr, remembering this same Druitt had been mentioned to +him. "But the man was called Gorton, not Gordon. You must have caught up +the wrong name, Taylor. Or perhaps he misunderstood you. That's all; you +may go now." + +The clerk departed. Mr. Carr took his hat and followed him down; but +before joining Lord Hartledon he turned into the Temple Gardens, and +strolled towards the river; a few moments of fresh air--fresh to those +hard-worked denizens of close and crowded London--seemed absolutely +necessary to the barrister's heated brain. + +He sat down on a bench facing the water, and bared his brow to the +breeze. A cool head, his; never a cooler brought thought to bear upon +perplexity; nevertheless it was not feeling very collected now. He could +not reconcile sundry discrepancies in the trouble he was engaged in +fathoming, and he saw no release whatever for Lord Hartledon. + +"It has only complicated the affair," he said, as he watched the steamers +up and down, "this calling in Green the detective, and the news he +brings. Gordon the Gordon of the mutiny! I don't like it: the other +Gordon, simple enough and not bad-hearted, was easy to deal with in +comparison; this man, pirate, robber, murderer, will stand at nothing. We +should have a hold on him, it's true, in his own crime; but what's to +prevent his keeping himself out of the way, and selling Hartledon to +another? Why he has not sold him yet, I can't think. Unless for some +reason he is waiting his time." + +He put on his hat and began to count the barges on the other side, to +banish thought. But it would not be banished, and he fell into the train +again. + +"Mair's behaving well; with Christian kindness; but it's bad enough to be +even in _his_ power. There's something in Lord Hartledon he 'can't help +loving,' he writes. Who can? Here am I, giving up circuit--such a thing +as never was heard of--calling him friend still, and losing my rest at +night for him! Poor Val! better he had been the one to die!" + +"Please, sir, could you tell us the time?" + +The spell was broken, and Mr. Carr took out his watch as he turned his +eyes on a ragged urchin who had called to him from below. + +The tide was down; and sundry Arabs were regaling their naked feet in the +mud, sporting and shouting. The evening drew in earlier than they did, +and the sun had already set. + +Quitting the garden, Mr. Carr stepped into a hansom, and was conveyed to +Grafton Street. He found Lord Hartledon knitting his brow over a letter. + +"Maude is growing vexed in earnest," he began, looking up at Mr. Carr. +"She insists upon knowing the reason that I do not go home to her." + +"I don't wonder at it. You ought to do one of two things: go, or--" + +"Or what, Carr?" + +"You know. Never go home again." + +"I wish I was out of the world!" cried the unhappy man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +AT HARTLEDON. + + + "Hartledon, + + "I wonder what you _think_ of yourself, Galloping about _Rotten Row_ + with women when your wife's _dying_. Of _course_ it's not your fault + that reports of your goings-on _reach_ her here oh dear no. You are a + moddel husband you are, sending her down here _out of the way_ that you + may take your pleasure. Why did you _marry her_, nobody wanted you to + she sits and _mopes_ and _weeps_ and she's going into the same way that + her father _went_, you'll be glad no doubt to hear it it's what you're + _aiming_ at, once she is in _Calne churchyard_ the _field_ will be open + for your Anne Ashton. I can tell you that if you've a spark of _proper + feeling_ you'll come _down_ for its killing her, + + "Your wicked mother, + + "C. Kirton." + +Lord Hartledon turned this letter about in his hand. He scarcely noticed +the mistake at the conclusion: the dowager had doubtless intended to +imply that _he_ was wicked, and the slip of the pen in her temper went +for nothing. + +Galloping about Rotten Row with women! + +Hartledon sent his thoughts back, endeavouring to recollect what could +have given rise to this charge. One morning, after a sleepless night, +when he had tossed and turned on his uneasy bed, and risen unrefreshed, +he hired a horse, for he had none in town, and went for a long ride. +Coming back he turned into Rotten Row. He could not tell why he did so, +for such places, affected by the gay, empty-headed votaries of fashion, +were little consonant to his present state. He was barely in it when a +lady's horse took fright: she was riding alone, with a groom following; +Lord Hartledon gave her his assistance, led her horse until the animal +was calm, and rode side by side with her to the end of the Row. He knew +not who she was; scarcely noticed whether she was young or old; and had +not given a remembrance to it since. + +When your wife's dying! Accustomed to the strong expressions of the +countess-dowager, he passed that over. But, "going the same way that her +father went;" he paused there, and tried to remember how her father did +"go." All he could recollect now, indeed all he knew at the time, was, +that Lord Kirton's last illness was reported to have been a lingering +one. + +Such missives as these--and the countess-dowager favoured him with more +than one--coupled with his own consciousness that he was not behaving +to his wife as he ought, took him at length down to Hartledon. That his +presence at the place so soon after his marriage was little short of an +insult to Dr. Ashton's family, his sensitive feelings told him; but his +duty to his wife was paramount, and he could not visit his sin upon her. + +She was looking very ill; was low-spirited and hysterical; and when she +caught sight of him she forgot her anger, and fell sobbing into his arms. +The countess-dowager had gone over to Garchester, and they had a few +hours' peace together. + +"You are not looking well, Maude!" + +"I know I am not. Why do you stay away from me?" + +"I could not help myself. Business has kept me in London." + +"Have _you_ been ill also? You look thin and worn." + +"One does grow to look thin in heated London," he replied evasively, +as he walked to the window, and stood there. "How is your brother, +Maude--Bob?" + +"I don't want to talk about Bob yet; I have to talk to you," she said. +"Percival, why did you practise that deceit upon me?" + +"What deceit?" + +"It was a downright falsehood; and made me look awfully foolish when +I came here and spoke of it as a fact. That action." + +Lord Hartledon made no reply. Here was one cause of his disinclination +to meet his wife--having to keep up the farce of Dr. Ashton's action. It +seemed, however, that there would no longer be any farce to keep up. Had +it exploded? He said nothing. Maude gazing at him from the sofa on which +she sat, her dark eyes looking larger than of yore, with hollow circles +round them, waited for his answer. + +"I do not know what you mean, Maude." + +"You _do_ know. You sent me down here with a tale that the Ashtons had +entered an action against you for breach of promise--damages, ten +thousand pounds--" + +"Stay an instant, Maude. I did not 'send you down' with the tale. +I particularly requested you to keep it private." + +"Well, mamma drew it out of me unawares. She vexed me with her comments +about your staying on in London, and it made me tell her why you had +stayed. She ascertained from Dr. Ashton that there was not a word of +truth in the story. Val, I betrayed it in your defence." + +He stood at the window in silence, his lips compressed. + +"I looked so foolish in the eyes of Dr. Ashton! The Sunday evening after +I came down here I had a sort of half-fainting-fit, coming home from +church. He overtook me, and was very kind, and gave me his arm. I said +a word to him; I could not help it; mamma had worried me on so; and I +learned that no such action had ever been thought of. You had no right +to subject me to the chance of such mortification. Why did you do so?" + +Lord Hartledon came from the window and sat down near his wife, his elbow +on the table. All he could do now was to make the best of it, and explain +as near to the truth as he could. + +"Maude, you must not expect full confidence on this subject, for I cannot +give it you. When I found I had reason to believe that some--some legal +proceedings were about to be instituted against me, just at the first +intimation of the trouble, I thought it must emanate from Dr. Ashton. +You took up the same idea yourself, and I did not contradict it, simply +because I could not tell you the real truth--" + +"Yes," she interrupted. "It was the night that stranger called at our +house, when you and Mr. Carr were closeted with him so long." + +He could not deny it; but he had been thankful that she should forget the +stranger and his visit. Maude waited. + +"Then it was an action, but not brought by the Ashtons?" she resumed, +finding he did not speak. "Mamma remarked that you were just the one to +propose to half-a-dozen girls." + +"It was not an action at all of that description; and I never proposed to +any girl except Miss Ashton," he returned, nettled at the remark. + +"Is it over?" + +"Not quite;" and there was some hesitation in his tone. "Carr is settling +it for me. I trust, Maude, you will never hear of it again--that it will +never trouble you." + +She sat looking at him with her wistful eyes. + +"Won't you tell me its nature?" + +"I cannot tell you, Maude, believe me. I am as candid with you as it is +possible to be; but there are some things best--best not spoken of. +Maude," he repeated, rising impulsively and taking both her hands in his, +"do you wish to earn my love--my everlasting gratitude? Then you may do +it by nevermore alluding to this." + +It was a mistaken request; an altogether unwise emotion. Better that he +had remained at the window, and drawled out a nonchalant denial. But he +was apt to be as earnestly genuine on the surface as he was in reality. +It set Lady Hartledon wondering; and she resolved to "bide her time." + +"As you please, of course, Val. But why should it agitate you?" + +"Many a little thing seems to agitate me now," he answered. "I have not +felt well of late; perhaps that's the reason." + +"I think you might have satisfied me a little better. I expect it is some +enormous debt risen up against you." + +Better she should think so! "I shall tide it over," he said aloud. "But +indeed, Maude, I cannot bear for you delicate women to be brought into +contact with these things; they are fit for us only. Think no more about +it, and rely on me to keep trouble from you if it can be kept. Where's +Bob? He is here, I suppose?" + +"Bob's in his room. He is going into a way, I think. When he wrote and +asked me if I would allow him to come here for a little change, the +medical men saying he must have it, mamma sent a refusal by return of +post; she had had enough of Bob, she said, when he was here before. But +I quietly wrote a note myself, and Bob came. He looked ill, and gets +worse instead of better." + +"What do you mean by saying he is going into a way?" asked Lord +Hartledon. + +"Consumption, or something of that sort. Papa died of it. You are not +angry with me for having Bob?" + +"Angry! My dear Maude, the house is yours; and if poor Bob stayed with us +for ever, I should welcome him as a brother. Every one likes Bob." + +"Except mamma. She does not like invalids in the house, and has been +saying you don't like it; that it was helping to keep you away. Poor Bob +had out his portmanteau and began to pack; but I told him not to mind +her; he was my guest, not hers." + +"And mine also, you might have added." + +He left the room, and went to the chamber Captain Kirton had occupied +when he was at Hartledon in the spring. It was empty, evidently not being +used; and Hartledon sent for Mirrable. She came, looking just as usual, +wearing a dark-green silk gown; for the twelve-month had expired, and +their mourning was over. + +"Captain Kirton is in the small blue rooms facing south, my lord. They +were warmer for him than these." + +"Is he very ill, Mirrable?" + +"Very, I think," was the answer. "Of course he may get better; but it +does not look like it." + +He was a tall, thin, handsome man, this young officer--a year or two +older than Maude, whom he greatly resembled. Seated before a table, he +was playing at that delectable game "solitaire;" and his eyes looked +large and wild with surprise, and his cheeks became hectic, when Lord +Hartledon entered. + +"Bob, my dear fellow, I am glad to see you." + +He took his hands and sat down, his face full of the concern he did not +care to speak. Lady Hartledon had said he was going into a way; it was +evidently the way of the grave. + +He pushed the balls and the board from him, half ashamed of his +employment. "To think you should catch me at this!" he exclaimed. "Maude +brought it to me yesterday, thinking I was dull up here." + +"As good that as anything else. I often think what a miserably restless +invalid _I_ should make. But now, what's wrong with you?" + +"Well, I suppose it's the heart." + +"The heart?" + +"The doctors say so. No doubt they are right; those complaints are +hereditary, and my father had it. I got quite unfit for duty, and they +told me I must go away for change; so I wrote to Maude, and she took me +in." + +"Yes, yes; we are glad to have you, and must try and get you well, Bob." + +"Ah, I can't tell about that. He died of it, you know." + +"Who?" + +"My father. He was ill for some time, and it wore him to a skeleton, so +that people thought he was in a decline. If I could only get sufficiently +well to go back to duty, I should not mind; it is so sad to give trouble +in a strange house." + +"In a strange house it might be, but it would be ungrateful to call this +one strange," returned Lord Hartledon, smiling on him from his pleasant +blue eyes. "We must get you to town and have good advice for you. I +suppose Hillary comes up?" + +"Every-day." + +"Does _he_ say it's heart-disease?" + +"I believe he thinks it. It might be as much as his reputation is worth +to say it in this house." + +"How do you mean?" + +"My mother won't have it said. She ignores the disease altogether, and +will not allow it to be mentioned, or hinted at. It's bronchitis, she +tells everyone; and of course bronchitis it must be. I did have a cough +when I came here: my chest is not strong." + +"But why should she ignore heart-disease?" + +"There was a fear that Maude would be subject to it when she was a child. +Should it be disclosed to her that it is my complaint, and were I to die +of it, she might grow so alarmed for herself as to bring it on; and +agitation, as we know, is often fatal in such cases." + +Lord Hartledon sat in a sort of horror. Maude subject to heart-disease! +when at any moment a certain fearful tale, of which he was the guilty +centre, might be disclosed to her! Day by day, hour by hour, he lived in +dread of this story's being brought to light. This little unexpected +communication increased that dread fourfold. + +"Have I shocked you?" asked Captain Kirton. "I may yet get the better of +it." + +"I believe I was thinking of Maude," answered Hartledon, slowly +recovering from his stupor. "I never heard--I had no idea that Maude's +heart was not perfectly sound." + +"And I don't know but that it is sound; it was only a fancy when she was +a child, and there might have been no real grounds for it. My mother is +full of crotchets on the subject of illness; and says she won't have +anything about heart-disease put into Maude's head. She is right, of +course, so far, in using precaution; so please remember that I am +suffering from any disorder but that," concluded the young officer with +a smile. + +"How did yours first show itself?" + +"I hardly know. I used to be subject to sudden attacks of faintness; but +I am not sure that they had anything to do with the disease itself." + +Just what Maude was becoming subject to! She had told him of a +fainting-fit in London; had told him of another now. + +"I suppose the doctors warn you against sudden shocks, Bob?" + +"More than against anything. I am not to agitate myself in the least; am +not to run or jump, or fly into a temper. They would put me in a glass +case, if they could." + +"Well, we'll see what skill can do for you," said Hartledon, rousing +himself. "I wonder if a warmer climate would be of service? You might +have that without exertion, travelling slowly." + +"Couldn't afford it," was the ingenuous answer. "I have forestalled my +pay as it is." + +Lord Hartledon smiled. Never a more generous disposition than his; and if +money could save this poor Bob Kirton, he should not want it. + +Walking forth, he strolled down the road towards Calne, intending to ask +a question or two of the surgeon. Mr. Hillary was at home. His house was +at this end of Calne, just past the Rectory and opposite the church, with +a side view of Clerk Gum's. The door was open, and Lord Hartledon +strolled into the surgery unannounced, to the surprise of Mr. Hillary, +who did not know he was at Calne. + +The surgeon's opinion was not favourable. Captain Kirton had +heart-disease beyond any doubt. His chest was weak also, the lungs not +over-sound; altogether, the Honourable Robert Kirton's might be called +a bad life. + +"Would a warmer climate do anything for him?" asked Lord Hartledon. + +The surgeon shrugged his shoulders. "He would be better there for some +things than here. On the whole it might temporarily benefit him." + +"Then he shall go. And now, Hillary, I want to ask you something +else--and you must answer me, mind. Captain Kirton tells me the fact of +his having heart-disease is not mentioned in the house lest it should +alarm Lady Hartledon, and develop the same in her. Is there any fear of +this?" + +"It is true that it's not spoken of; but I don't think there's any +foundation for the fear." + +"The old dowager's very fanciful!" cried Lord Hartledon, resentfully. + +"A queer old--girl," remarked the surgeon. "Can't help saying it, though +she is your mother-in-law." + +"I wish she was any one else's! She's as likely as not to let out +something of this to Maude in her tantrums. But I don't believe a word +of it; I never saw the least symptom of heart-disease in my wife." + +"Nor I," said the doctor. "Of course I have not examined her; neither +have I had much opportunity for ordinary observation." + +"I wish you would contrive to get the latter. Come up and call often; +make some excuse for seeing Lady Hartledon professionally, and watch her +symptoms." + +"I am seeing her professionally now; once or twice a week. She had one or +two fainting-fits after she came down, and called me in." + +"Kirton says he used to have those fainting-fits. Are they a symptom of +heart-disease?" + +"In Lady Hartledon I attribute them entirely to her present state of +health. I assure you, I don't see the slightest cause for fear as regards +your wife's heart. She is of a calm temperament too; as far as I can +observe." + +They stood talking for a minute at the door, when Lord Hartledon went +out. Pike happened to pass on the other side of the road. + +"He is here still, I see," remarked Hartledon. + +"Oh dear, yes; and likely to be." + +"I wonder how the fellow picks up a living?" + +The surgeon did not answer. "Are you going to make a long stay with us?" +he asked. + +"A very short one. I suppose you have had no return of the fever?" + +"Not any. Calne never was more healthy than it is now. As I said to Dr. +Ashton yesterday, but for his own house I might put up my shutters and +take a lengthened holiday." + +"Who is ill at the Rectory? Mrs. Ashton?" + +"Mrs. Ashton is not strong, but she's better than she was last year. +I have been more concerned for Anne than for her." + +"Is _she_ ill?" cried Lord Hartledon, a spasm seizing his throat. + +"Ailing. But it's an ailing I do not like." + +"What's the cause?" he rejoined, feeling as if some other crime were +about to be brought home to him. + +"That's a question I never inquire into. I put it upon the air of the +Rectory," added the surgeon in jesting tones, "and tell them they ought +to go away for a time, but they have been away too much of late, they +say. She's getting over it somewhat, and I take care that she goes out +and takes exercise. What has it been? Well, a sort of inward fever, with +flushed cheeks and unequal spirits. It takes time for these things to +be got over, you know. The Rector has been anything but well, too; he +is not the strong, healthy man he was." + +"And all _my_ work; my work!" cried Hartledon to himself, almost gnashing +his teeth as he went back down the street. "What _right_ had I to upset +the happiness of that family? I wish it had pleased God to take me first! +My father used to say that some men seem born into the world only to be a +blight to it; it's what I have been, Heaven knows." + +He knew only too well that Anne Ashton was suffering from the shock +caused by his conduct. The love of these quiet, sensitive, refined +natures, once awakened, is not given for a day, but for all time; it +becomes a part of existence; and cannot be riven except by an effort that +brings destruction to even future hope of happiness. Not even Mr. +Hillary, not even Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, could discern the utter misery +that was Anne's daily portion. She strove to conceal it all. She went +about the house cheerfully, wore a smiling face when people were present, +dressed well, laughed with their guests, went about the parish to rich +and poor, and was altogether gay. Ah, do you know what it is, this +assumption of gaiety when the heart is breaking?--this dread fear lest +those about you should detect the truth? Have _you_ ever lived with this +mask upon your face?--which can only be thrown off at night in the +privacy of your own chamber, when you may abandon yourself to your +desolation, and pray heaven to take you or give you increased strength to +_live_ and _bear_? It may seem a light thing, this state of heart that I +am telling you about; but it has killed both men and women, for all that; +and killed them in silence. + +Anne Ashton had never complained. She did everything she had been used to +doing, was particular about all her duties; but a nervous cough attacked +her, and her frame wasted, and her cheek grew hectic. Try as she would +she could not eat: all she confessed to, when questioned by Mrs. Ashton, +was "a pain in her throat;" and Mr. Hillary was called in. Anne laughed: +there was nothing the matter with her, she said, and her throat was +better; she had strained it perhaps. The doctor was a wise doctor; his +professional visits were spent in gossip; and as to medicine, he sent her +a tonic, and told her to take it or not as she pleased. Only time, he +said to Mrs. Ashton--she would be all right in time; the summer heat was +making her languid. + +The summer heat had nearly passed now, and perhaps some of the battle was +passing with it. None knew--let me repeat it--what that battle had been; +none ever can know, unless they go through it themselves. In Miss +Ashton's case there was a feature some are spared--her love had been +known--and it increased the anguish tenfold. She would overcome it if she +could only forget him; but it would take time; and she would come out of +it an altogether different woman, her best hope in life gone, her heart +dead. + +"What brought him down here?" mentally questioned Mr. Hillary, in an +explosion of wrath, as he watched his visitor down the street. "It will +undo all I have been doing. He, and his wife too, might have had the +grace to keep away for this year at least. I loved him once, with all his +faults; but I should like to see him in the pillory now. It has told on +him also, if I'm any reader of looks. And now, Miss Anne, you go off from +Calne to-morrow an I can prevail. I only hope you won't come across him +in the meantime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +UNDER THE TREES. + + +It was the same noble-looking man Calne had 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 crouched down when Lord +Hartledon passed. He went back at once; and Pike put a bold face on the +matter, and stood up. + +"So you occupy your palace still, Pike?" + +"Such as it is. Yes." + +"I half-expected to find that Mr. Marris had turned you from it," +continued Lord Hartledon, alluding to his steward. + +"He wouldn't do it, I expect, without your lordship's orders; and I don't +fancy you'll give 'em," was the free answer. + +"I think my brother would have given them, had he lived." + +"But he didn't live," rejoined Pike. "He wasn't let live." + +"What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, mystified by the words. + +Pike ignored the question. "'Twas nearly a smash," he said, looking at +the two carts now proceeding on their different ways. "That cart of +Floyd's is always in hot water; the man drinks; Floyd turned him off +once." + +The miller's cart was jogging up the road towards home, under convoy of +the offending driver; the boy, David Ripper, sitting inside on some empty +sacks, and looking over the board behind: looking very hard indeed, as it +seemed, in their direction. Mr. Pike appropriated the gaze. + +"Yes, you may stare, young Rip!" he apostrophized, as if the boy could +hear him; "but you won't stare yourself out of my hands. You're the +biggest liar in Calne, but you don't mislead me." + +"Pike, when you made acquaintance with that man Gorton--you remember +him?" broke off Lord Hartledon. + +"Yes, I do," said Pike emphatically. + +"Did he make you acquainted with any of his private affairs?--his past +history?" + +"Not a word," answered Pike, looking still after the cart and the boy. + +"Were those fine whiskers of his false? that red hair?" + +Pike turned his head quickly. The question had aroused him. + +"False hair and whiskers! I never knew it was the fashion to wear them." + +"It may be convenient sometimes, even if not the fashion," observed Lord +Hartledon, his tone full of cynical meaning; and Mr. Pike surreptitiously +peered at him with his small light eyes. + +"If Gorton's hair was false, I never noticed it, that's all; I never saw +him without a hat, that I remember, except in that inquest-room." + +"Had he been to Australia?" + +Pike paused to take another surreptitious gaze. + +"Can't say, my lord. Never heard." + +"Was his name Gorton, or Gordon? Come, Pike," continued Lord Hartledon, +good-humouredly, "there's a sort of mutual alliance between you and me; +you did me a service once unasked, and I allow you to live free and +undisturbed on my ground. I think you _do_ know something of this man; +it is a fancy I have taken up." + +"I never knew his name was anything but Gorton," said Pike carelessly; +"never heard it nor thought it." + +"Did you happen to hear him ever speak of that mutiny on board the +Australian ship _Morning Star_? You have heard of it, I daresay: a George +Gordon was the ringleader." + +If ever the cool impudence was suddenly taken out of a man, this question +seemed to take it out of Pike. He did not reply for some time; and when +he did, it was in low and humble tones. + +"My lord, I hope you'll pardon my rough thoughts and ways, which haven't +been used to such as you--and the sight of that boy put me up, for +reasons of my own. As to Gorton--I never did hear him speak of the thing +you mention. His name's Gorton, and nothing else, as far as I know; and +his hair's his own, for all I ever saw." + +"He did not give you his confidence, then?" + +"No, never. Not about himself nor anything else, past or present." + +"And did not let a word slip? As to--for instance, as to his having been +a passenger on board the _Morning Star_ at the time of the mutiny?" + +Pike had moved away a step, and stood with his arms on the hurdles, his +head bent on them, his face turned from Lord Hartledon. + +"Gorton said nothing to me. As to that mutiny--I think I read something +about it in the newspapers, but I forget what. I was just getting up from +some weeks of rheumatic fever at the time; I'd caught it working in the +fields; and news don't leave much impression in illness. Gorton never +spoke of it to me. I never heard him say who or what he was; and I +couldn't speak more truly if your lordship offered to give me the shed +as a bribe." + +"Do you know where Gorton might be found at present?" + +"I swear before Heaven that I know nothing of the man, and have never +heard of him since he went away," cried Pike, with a burst of either fear +or passion. "He was a stranger to me when he came, and he was a stranger +when he left. I found out the little game he had come about, and saved +your lordship from his clutches, which he doesn't know to this day. I +know nothing else about him at all." + +"Well, good evening, Pike. You need not put yourself out for nothing." + +He walked away, taking leave of the man as civilly as though he had been +a respectable member of society. It was not in Val's nature to show +discourtesy to any living being. Why Pike should have shrunk from the +questions he could not tell; but that he did shrink was evident; perhaps +from a surly dislike to being questioned at all; but on the whole Lord +Hartledon thought he had spoken the truth as to knowing nothing about +Gorton. + +Crossing the road, he turned into the field-path near the Rectory; it was +a little nearer than the road-way, and he was in a hurry, for he had not +thought to ask at what hour his wife dined, and might be keeping her +waiting. + +Who was this Pike, he wondered as he went along; as he had wondered +before now. When the man was off his guard, the roughness of his speech +and demeanour was not so conspicuous; and the tone assumed a certain +refinement that seemed to say he had some time been in civilized society. +Again, how did he live? A tale was told in Calne of Pike's having been +disturbed at supper one night by a parcel of rude boys, who had seen him +seated at a luxurious table; hot steak and pudding before him. They were +not believed, certainly; but still Pike must live; and how did he find +the means to do so? Why did he live there at all? what had caused him to +come to Calne? Who-- + +These reflections might have lasted all the way home but for an +interruption that drove every thought out of Lord Hartledon's mind, and +sent the heart's blood coursing swiftly through his veins. Turning a +corner of the dark winding path, he came suddenly upon a lady seated on a +bench, so close to the narrow path that he almost touched her in passing. +She seemed to have sat down for a moment to do something to her hat, +which was lying in her lap, her hands busied with it. + +A faint cry escaped her, and she rose up. It was caused partly by +emotion, partly by surprise at seeing him, for she did not know he was +within a hundred miles of the place. And very probably she would have +liked to box her own ears for showing any. The hat fell from her knees +as she rose, and both stooped for it. + +"Forgive me," he said. "I fear I have startled you." + +"I am waiting for papa," she answered, in hasty apology for being found +there. And Lord Hartledon, casting his eyes some considerable distance +ahead, discerned the indistinct forms of two persons talking together. He +understood the situation at once. Dr. Ashton and his daughter had been to +the cottages; and the doctor had halted on their return to speak to a +day-labourer going home from his work, Anne walking slowly on. + +And there they stood face to face, Anne Ashton and her deceitful lover! +How their hearts beat to pain, how utterly oblivious they were of +everything in life save each other's presence, how tumultuously confused +were mind and manner, both might remember afterwards, but certainly were +not conscious of then. It was a little glimpse of Eden. A corner of the +dark curtain thrown between them had been raised, and so unexpectedly +that for the moment nothing else was discernible in the dazzling light. + +Forget! Not in that instant of sweet confusion, during which nothing +seemed more real than a dream. He was the husband of another; she was +parted from him for ever; and neither was capable of deliberate thought +or act that could intrench on the position, or tend to return, even +momentarily, to the past. And yet there they stood with beating hearts, +and eyes that betrayed their own tale--that the marriage and the parting +were in one sense but a hollow mockery, and their love was indelible as +of old. + +Each had been "forgetting" to the utmost of the poor power within, in +accordance with the high principles enshrined in either heart. Yet what +a mockery that forgetting seemed, now that it was laid before them naked +and bare! The heart turning sick to faintness at the mere sight of each +other, the hands trembling at the mutual touch, the wistful eyes shining +with a glance that too surely spoke of undying love! + +But not a word of this was spoken. However true their hearts might be, +there was no fear of the tongue following up the error. Lord Hartledon +would no more have allowed himself to speak than she to listen. Neither +had the hands met in ordinary salutation; it was only when he resigned +the hat to her that the fingers touched: a touch light, transient, almost +imperceptible; nevertheless it sent a thrill through the whole frame. Not +exactly knowing what to do in her confusion, Miss Ashton sat down on the +bench again and put her hat on. + +"I must say a word to you before I go on my way," said Lord Hartledon. +"I have been wishing for such a meeting as this ever since I saw you at +Versailles; and indeed I think I wished for nothing else before it. When +you think of me as one utterly heartless--" + +"Stay, Lord Hartledon," she interrupted, with white lips. "I cannot +listen to you. You must be aware that I cannot, and ought not. What are +you thinking about?" + +"I know that I have forfeited all right to ask you; that it is an +unpardonable intrusion my presuming even to address you. Well, perhaps, +you are right," he added, after a moment's pause; "it may be better that +I should not say what I was hoping to say. It cannot mend existing +things; it cannot undo the past. I dare not ask your forgiveness: it +would seem too much like an insult; nevertheless, I would rather have it +than any earthly gift. Fare you well, Anne! I shall sometimes hear of +your happiness." + +"Have you been ill?" she asked in a kindly impulse, noticing his altered +looks in that first calm moment. + +"No--not as the world counts illness. If remorse and shame and repentance +can be called illness, I have my share. Ill deeds of more kinds than one +are coming home to me. Anne," he added in a hoarse whisper; his face +telling of emotion, "if there is one illumined corner in my heart, where +all else is very dark, it is caused by thankfulness to Heaven that you +were spared." + +"Spared!" she echoed, in wonder, so completely awed by his strange manner +as to forget her reserve. + +"Spared the linking of your name with mine. I thank God for it, for your +sake, night and day. Had trouble fallen on you through me, I don't think +I could have survived it. May you be shielded from all such for ever!" + +He turned abruptly away, and she looked after him, her heart beating a +great deal faster than it ought to have done. + +That she was his best and dearest love, in spite of his marriage, it +was impossible not to see; and she strove to think him very wicked for +it, and her cheek was red with a feeling that seemed akin to shame. +But--trouble?--thankful for her sake, night and day, that her name was +not linked with his? He must allude to debt, she supposed: some of those +old embarrassments had augmented themselves into burdens too heavy to be +safely borne. + +The Rector was coming on now at a swift pace. He looked keenly at Lord +Hartledon; looked twice, as if in surprise. A flush rose to Val's +sensitive face as he passed, and lifted his hat. The Rector, dark and +proud, condescended to return the courtesy: and the meeting was over. + +Toiling across Lord Hartledon's path was the labourer to whom the Rector +had been speaking. He had an empty bottle slung over his shoulder, and +carried a sickle. The man's day's work was over, and had left fatigue +behind it. + +"Good-night to your lordship!" + +"Is it you, Ripper?" + +He was the father of the young gentleman in the cart, whom Mr. Pike had +not long before treated to his opinion: young David Ripper, the miller's +boy. Old Ripper, a talkative, discontented man, stopped and ventured to +enter on his grievances. His wife had been pledging things to pay for +a fine gown she had bought; his two girls were down with measles; his +son, young Rip, plagued his life out. + +"How does he plague your life out?" asked Lord Hartledon, when he had +listened patiently. + +"Saying he'll go off and enlist for a soldier, my lord; he's saying it +always: and means it too, only he's over-young for't." + +"Over-young for it; I should think so. Why, he's not much more than a +child. Our sergeants don't enlist little boys." + +"Sometimes he says he'll drown himself by way of a change," returned old +Ripper. + +"Oh, does he? Folk who say it never do it. I should whip it out of him." + +"He's never been the same since the lord's death that time. He's always +frightened: gets fancying things, and saying sometimes he sees his +shadder." + +"Whose shadow?" + +"His'n: the late lord's." + +"Why does he fancy that?" came the question, after a perceptible pause. + +Old Ripper shook his head. It was beyond his ken, he said. "There be only +two things he's afeared of in life," continued the man, who, though +generally called old Ripper, was not above five-and-thirty. "The one's +that wild man Pike; t'other's the shadder. He'd run ten mile sooner than +see either." + +"Does Pike annoy the boy?" + +"Never spoke to him, as I knows on, my lord. Afore that drowning of his +lordship last year, Davy was the boldest rip going," added the man, who +had long since fallen into the epithet popularly applied to his son. +"Since then he don't dare say his soul's his own. We had him laid up +before the winter, and I know 'twas nothing but fear." + +Lord Hartledon could not make much of the story, and had no time to +linger. Administering a word of general encouragement, he continued his +way, his thoughts going back to the interview with Anne Ashton, a line or +two of Longfellow's "Fire of Driftwood" rising up in his mind-- + + "Of what had been and might have been, + And who was changed, and who was dead." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +A TÊTE-À-TÊTE BREAKFAST. + + +The Dowager-Countess of Kirton stood in the sunny breakfast-room at +Hartledon, surveying the well-spread table with complacency; for it +appeared to be rather more elaborately set out than usual, and no one +loved good cheer better than she. When she saw two cups and saucers on +the cloth instead of one, it occurred to her that Maude must, by caprice, +be coming down, which she had not done of late. The dowager had arrived +at midnight from Garchester, in consequence of having missed the earlier +train, and found nearly all the house in retirement. She was in a furious +humour, and no one had told her of the arrival of her son-in-law; no one +ever did tell her any more than they were obliged to do; for she was not +held in estimation at Hartledon. + +"Potted tongue," she exclaimed, dodging round the table, and lifting +various covers. "Raised pie; I wonder what's in it? And what's that stuff +in jelly? It looks delicious. This is the result of the blowing-up I gave +Hedges the other day; nothing like finding fault. Hot dishes too. I +suppose Maude gave out that she should be down this morning. All rubbish, +fancying herself ill: she's as well as I am, but gives way like a +sim--A-a-a-ah!" + +The exclamation was caused by the unexpected vision of Lord Hartledon. + +"How are you, Lady Kirton?" + +"Where on earth did you spring from?" + +"From my room." + +"What's the good of your appearing before people like a ghost, Hartledon? +When did you arrive?" + +"Yesterday afternoon." + +"And time you did, I think, with your poor wife fretting herself to death +about you. How is she this morning?" + +"Very well." + +"Ugh!" You must imagine this sound as something between a grunt and a +groan, that the estimable lady gave vent to whenever put out. It is not +capable of being written. "You might have sent word you were coming. I +should think you frightened your wife to death." + +"Not quite." + +He walked across the room and rang the bell. Hedges appeared. It had +been the dowager's pleasure that no one else should serve her at that +meal--perhaps on account of her peculiarities of costume. + +"Will you be good enough to pour out the coffee in Maude's place to-day, +Lady Kirton? She has promised to be down another morning." + +It was making her so entirely and intentionally a guest, as she thought, +that Lady Kirton did not like it. Not only did she fully intend Hartledon +House to be her home, but she meant to be its one ruling power. Keep +Maude just now to her invalid fancies, and later to her gay life, and +there would be little fear of her asserting very much authority. + +"Are you in the habit of serving this sort of breakfast, Hedges?" asked +Lord Hartledon; for the board looked almost like an elaborate dinner. + +"We have made some difference, my lord, this morning." + +"For me, I suppose. You need not do so in future. I have got out of the +habit of taking breakfast; and in any case I don't want this unnecessary +display. Captain Kirton gets up later, I presume." + +"He's hardly ever up before eleven," said Hedges. "But he makes a good +breakfast, my lord." + +"That's right. Tempt him with any delicacy you can devise. He wants +strength." + +The dowager was fuming. "Don't you think I'm capable of regulating these +things, Hartledon, I'd beg leave to ask?" + +"No doubt. I beg you will make yourself at home whilst you stay with us. +Some tea, Hedges." + +She could have thrown the coffee-pot at him. There was incipient defiance +in his every movement; latent war in his tones. He was no longer the +puppet he had been; that day had gone by for ever. + +Perhaps Val could not himself have explained the feeling that was this +morning at work within him. It was the first time he and the dowager had +met since the marriage, and she brought before him all too prominently +the ill-omened past: her unjustifiable scheming--his own miserable +weakness. If ever Lord Hartledon felt shame and repentance for his weak +yielding, he felt it now--felt it in all its bitterness; and something +very like rage against the dowager was bubbling up in his spirit, which +he had some trouble to suppress. + +He did suppress it, however, though it rendered him less courteous than +usual; and the meal proceeded partly in silence; an interchanged word, +civil on the surface, passing now and then. The dowager thoroughly +entered into her breakfast, and had little leisure for anything else. + +"What makes you take nothing?" she asked, perceiving at length that he +had only a piece of toast on his plate, and was playing with that. + +"I have no appetite." + +"Have you left off taking breakfast?" + +"To a great extent." + +"What's the matter with you?" + +Lord Hartledon slightly raised his eyebrows. "One can't eat much in the +heat of summer." + +"Heat of summer! it's nothing more than autumn now. And you are as thin +as a weasel. Try some of that excellent raised pie." + +"Pray let my appetite alone, Lady Kirton. If I wanted anything I should +take it." + +"Let you alone! yes, of course! You don't want it noticed that you are +out of sorts," snapped the dowager. "Oh, _I_ know the signs. You've been +raking about London--that's what you've been at." + +The "raking about London" presented so complete a contrast to the lonely +life he had really passed, that Hartledon smiled in very bitterness. And +the smile incensed the dowager, for she misunderstood it. + +"It's early days to begin! I don't think you ought to have married +Maude." + +"I don't think I ought." + +She did not expect the rejoinder, and dropped her knife and fork. "Why +_did_ you marry her?" + +"Perhaps you can tell that better than I." + +The countess-dowager pushed up her hair. + +"Are you going to throw off the mask outright, and become a bad husband +as well as a neglectful one?" + +Val rose from his seat and went to the window, which opened to the +ground. He did not wish to quarrel with her if he could help it. Lady +Kirton raised her voice. + +"Staying away, as you have, in London, and leaving Maude here to pine +alone." + +"Business kept me in London." + +"I dare say it did!" cried the wrathful dowager. "If Maude died of ennui, +you wouldn't care. She can't go about much herself just now, poor thing! +I do wish Edward had lived." + +"I wish he had, with all my heart!" came the answer; and the tone struck +surprise on the dowager's ear--it was so full of pain. "Maude's coming to +Hartledon without me was her own doing," he remarked. "I wished her not +to come." + +"I dare say you did, as her heart was set upon it. The fact of her +wishing to do a thing would be the signal for your opposing it; I've +gathered that much. My advice to Maude is, to assert her own will, +irrespective of yours." + +"Don't you think, Lady Kirton, that it may be as well if you let me and +my wife alone? We shall get along, no doubt, without interference; _with_ +interference we might not do so." + +What with one thing and another, the dowager's temper was inflammable +that morning; and when it reached that undesirable state she was apt to +say pretty free things, even for her. + +"Edward would have made her the better husband." + +"But she didn't like him, you know!" he returned, his eyes flashing with +the remembrance of an old thought; and the countess-dowager took the +sentence literally, and not ironically. + +"Not like him. If you had had any eyes as Val Elster, you'd have seen +whether she liked him or not. She was dying for him--not for you." + +He made no reply. It was only what he had suspected, in a half-doubting +sort of way, at the time. A little spaniel, belonging to one of the +gardeners, ran up and licked his hand. + +"The time that I had of it!" continued the dowager. "But for me, Maude +never would have been forced into having you. And she _shouldn't_ have +had you if I'd thought you were going to turn out like this." + +He wheeled round and faced her; his pale face working with emotion, but +his voice subdued to calmness. Lady Kirton's last words halted, for his +look startled even her in its resolute sternness. + +"To what end are you saying this, madam? You know perfectly well that +you almost moved heaven and earth to get me: _you_, I say; I prefer to +leave my wife's name out of this: and I fell into the snare. I have not +complained of my bargain; so far as I know, Maude has not done so: but +if it be otherwise--if she and you repent of the union, I am willing to +dissolve it, as far as it can be dissolved, and to institute measures for +living apart." + +Never, never had she suspected it would come to this. She sat staring at +him, her eyes round, her mouth open: scarcely believing the calm resolute +man before her could be the once vacillating Val Elster. + +"Listen whilst I speak a word of truth," he said, his eyes bent on her +with a strange fire that, if it told of undisguised earnestness, told +also of inward fever. "I married your daughter, and I am ready and +willing to do my duty by her in all honour, as I have done it since the +day of the marriage. Whatever my follies may have been as a young man, I +am at least incapable of wronging my wife as a married one. _She_ has +had no cause to complain of want of affection, but--" + +"Oh, what a hypocrite!" interrupted the dowager, with a shriek. "And all +the time you've left her here neglected, while you were taking your +amusement in London! You've been dinner-giving and Richmond-going, and +theatre-frequenting, and card-playing, and race-horsing--and I shouldn't +wonder but you've been cock-fighting, and a hundred other things as +disreputable, and have come down here worn to a skeleton!" + +"But if she is discontented, if she does not care for me, as you would +seem to intimate," he resumed, passing over the attack without notice; +"in short, if Maude would be happier without me, I am quite willing, +as I have just said, to relieve her of her distasteful husband." + +"Of all the wicked plotters, you must be the worst! My darling +unoffending Maude! A divorce for her!" + +"We are neither of us eligible for a divorce," he coolly rejoined. "A +separation alone is open to us, and that an amicable one. Should it come +to it, every possible provision can be made for your daughter's comfort; +she shall retain this home; she shall have, if she wishes, a town-house; +I will deny her nothing." + +Lady Kirton rubbed her face carefully with her handkerchief. Not until +this moment had she believed him to be in earnest, and the conviction +frightened her. + +"Why do you wish to separate from her?" she asked, in a subdued tone. + +"I do not wish it. I said I was willing to do so if she wished it. You +have been taking pains to convince me that Maude's love was not mine, +that she was only forced into the marriage with me. Should this have been +the case, I must be distasteful to her still; an encumbrance she may wish +to get rid of." + +The countess-dowager had overshot her mark, and saw it. + +"Oh well! Perhaps I was mistaken about the past," she said, staring at +him very hard, and in a sort of defiance. "Maude was always very close. +If you said anything about separation now, I dare say it would kill her. +My belief is, she does care for you, and a great deal more than you +deserve." + +"It may be better to ascertain the truth from Maude--" + +"You won't say a syllable to her!" cried the dowager, starting up +in terror. "She'd never forgive me; she'd turn me out of the house. +Hartledon, _promise_ you won't say a word to her." + +He stood back against the window, never speaking. + +"She does love you; but I thought I'd frighten you, for you had no right +to send Maude home alone; and it made me very cross, because I saw how +she felt it. Separation indeed! What can you be thinking of?" + +He was thinking of a great deal, no doubt; and his thoughts were as +bitter as they could well be. He did not wish to separate; come what +might, he felt his place should be by his wife's side as long as +circumstances permitted it. + +"Let me give you a word of warning, Lady Kirton. I and my wife will be +happy enough together, I daresay, if we are allowed to be; but the style +of conversation you have just adopted to me will not conduce to it; it +might retaliate on Maude, you see. Do 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 XXVIII. + +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 mutiny: "a young, +slight man, with light eyes and fair hair." This did not answer exactly +to the Gorton who had played his part at Calne; but then, in regard to +the latter, there remained the suspicion that the red hair was false. +Whether it was the same man or whether it was two men--if the phrase may +be allowed--neither of them, to use Detective Green's expressive words, +turned up. And thus the months had passed on, with nothing special to +mark them. Captain Kirton had been conveyed abroad for the winter, and +they had good news of him; and the countess-dowager was inflicting a +visit upon one of her married daughters in Germany, the baroness with the +unpronounceable name. + +And the matter had nearly faded from the mind of Lady Hartledon. It would +quite have faded, but for certain interviews with Thomas Carr at his +chambers, when Hartledon's look of care precluded the idea that they +could be visits of mere idleness or pleasure; and for the secret trouble +that unmistakably sat on her husband like an incubus. At times he would +moan in his sleep as one in pain; but if told of this, had always some +laughing answer ready for her--he had dreamed he was fighting a lion or +being tossed by a bull. + +This was the pleasantest phase of Lady Hartledon's married life. Her +health did not allow of her entering into gaiety; and she and her husband +passed their time happily together. All her worst qualities seemed to +have left her, or to be dormant; she was yielding and gentle; her beauty +had never been so great as now that it was subdued; her languor was an +attraction, her care to please being genuine; and they were sufficiently +happy. They were in their town-house now, not having gone back to +Hartledon. A large, handsome house, very different from the hired one +they had first occupied. + +In January the baby was born; and Maude's eyes glistened with tears +of delight because it was a boy: a little heir to the broad lands of +Hartledon. She was very well, and it seemed that she could never tire +of fondling her child. + +But in the first few days succeeding that of the birth a strange fancy +took possession of her: she observed, or thought she observed, that her +husband did not seem to care for the child. He did not caress it; she +once heard him sighing over it; and he never announced it in the +newspapers. Other infants, heirs especially, could be made known to the +world, but not hers. The omission might never have come to her knowledge, +since at first she was not allowed to see newspapers, but for a letter +from the countess-dowager. The lady wrote in a high state of wrath from +Germany; she had looked every day for ten days in the _Times_, and saw no +chronicle of the happy event; and she demanded the reason. It afforded a +valve for her temper, which had been in an explosive state for some time +against Lord Hartledon, that ungracious son-in-law having actually +forbidden her his house until Maude's illness should be over; telling her +plainly that he would not have his wife worried. Lady Hartledon said +nothing for a day or two; she was watching her husband; watching for +signs of the fancy which had taken possession of her. + +He was in her room one dark afternoon, standing with his elbow on the +mantelpiece whilst he talked to her: a room of luxury and comfort it must +have been almost a pleasure to be ill in. Lady Hartledon had been allowed +to get up, and sit in an easy-chair: she seemed to be growing strong +rapidly; and the little red gentleman in the cradle, sleeping quietly, +was fifteen days old. + +"About his name, Percival; what is it to be?" she asked. "Your own?" + +"No, no, not mine," said he, quickly; "I never liked mine. Choose some +other, Maude." + +"What do you wish it to be?" + +"Anything." + +The short answer did not please the young mother; neither did the dreamy +tone in which it was spoken. "Don't you care what it is?" she asked +rather plaintively. + +"Not much, for myself. I wish it to be anything you shall choose." + +"I thought perhaps you would have liked it named after your brother," she +said, very much offended on the baby's account. + +"George?" + +"George, no. I never knew George; I should not be likely to think of him. +Edward." + +Lord Hartledon looked at the fire, absently pushing back his hair. "Yes, +let it be Edward. It will do as well as anything else." + +"Good gracious, Percival, one would think you had been having babies all +your life!" she exclaimed resentfully. "'Do as well as anything else!' If +he were our tenth son, instead of our first, you could not treat it with +more indifference. I have done nothing but deliberate on the name since +he was born; and I don't believe you have once given it a thought." + +Lord Hartledon turned his face upon her; and when illumined with a smile, +as now, it could be as bright as before care came to it. "I don't think +we men attach the importance to names in a general way that you do, +Maude. I shall like to have it Edward." + +"Edward William Algernon--" + +"No, no, no," as if the number alarmed him. "Pray don't have a string of +names: one's quite enough." + +"Oh, very well," she returned, biting her lips. "William was your +father's name. Algernon is my eldest brother's: I supposed you might like +them. I thought," she added, after a pause, "we might ask Lord Kirton to +be its godfather." + +"I have decided on the godfathers already. Thomas Carr will be one, and +I intend to be the other." + +"Thomas Carr! A poor hard-working barrister, that not a soul knows, and +of no family or influence whatever, godfather to the future Lord +Hartledon!" uttered the offended mother. + +"I wish it, Maude. Carr is the most valued friend I have in the world, or +ever can have. Oblige me in this." + +"Then my brother can be the other." + +"No; I myself; and I wish you would be its godmother." + +"Well, it's quite reversing the order of things!" she said, tacitly +conceding the point. + +A silence ensued. The firelight played on the lace curtains of the baby's +bed, as it did on Lady Hartledon's face; a thoughtful face just now. +Twilight was drawing on, and the fire lighted the room. + +"Percival, do you care for the child?" + +The tone had a sound of passion in it, breaking upon the silence. Lord +Hartledon lifted his bent face and glanced at his wife. + +"Do I care for the child, Maude? What a question! I do care for him: more +than I allow to appear." + +And if her voice had passion in it, his had pain. He crossed the room, +and stood looking down on the sleeping baby, touching at length its cheek +with his finger. He could have knelt, there and then, and wept over the +child, and prayed, oh, how earnestly, that God would take it to Himself, +not suffer it to live. Many and many a prayer had ascended from his heart +in their earlier married days, that his wife might not bear him children; +for he could only entail upon them an inheritance of shame. + +"I don't think you have once taken him in your arms, Percival; you never +kiss him. It's quite unnatural." + +"I give my kisses in the dark," he laughed, as he returned to where she +was sitting. And this was in a sense true; for once when he happened to +be alone for an instant with the baby, he had clasped it and kissed it in +a sort of delirious agony. + +"You never had it in the _Times_, you know!" + +"Never what?" + +"Never announced its birth in the _Times_. Did you forget it?" + +"It must have been very stupid of me," he remarked. "Never mind, Maude; +he won't grow the less for the omission. When are you coming downstairs?" + +"Mamma is in a rage about it; she says such neglect ought to be punished; +and she knows you have done it on purpose." + +"She is always in a rage with me, no matter what I do," returned Val, +good-humouredly. "She hoped to be here at this time, and sway us all--you +and me and the baby; and I stopped it. Ho, ho! young sir!" + +The baby had wakened with a cry, and a watchful attendant came gliding +in at the sound. Lord Hartledon left the room and went straight down to +the Temple to Mr. Carr's chambers. He found him in all the bustle of +departure from town. A cab stood at the foot of the stairs, and Mr. +Carr's laundress, a queer old body with an inverted black bonnet, was +handing the cabman a parcel of books. + +"A minute more and you'd have been too late," observed Mr. Carr, as Lord +Hartledon met him on the stairs, a coat on his arm. + +"I thought you did not start till to-morrow." + +"But I found I must go to-day. I can give you three minutes. Is it +anything particular?" + +Lord Hartledon drew him into his room. "I have come to crave a favour, +Carr. It has been on my lips to ask you before, but they would not frame +the words. This child of mine: will you be its godfather with myself?" + +One moment's hesitation, quite perceptible to the sensitive mind of Lord +Hartledon, and then Mr. Carr spoke out bravely and cheerily. + +"Of course I will." + +"I see you hesitate: but I do not like to ask any one else." + +"If I hesitated, it was at the thought of the grave responsibility +attaching to the office. I believe I look upon it in a more serious light +than most people do, and have never accepted the charge yet. I will be +sponsor to this one with all my heart." + +Lord Hartledon clasped his hand in reply, and they began to descend +the stairs. "Poor Maude was dreaming of making a grand thing of the +christening," he said; "she wanted to ask Lord Kirton to come to it. +It will take place in about a fortnight." + +"Very well; I must run up for it, unless you let me stand by proxy. +I wish, Hartledon, you would hear me on another point," added the +barrister, halting on the stairs, and dropping his voice to a whisper. + +"Well?" + +"If you are to go away at all, now's the time. Can't you be seized with +an exploring fit, and sail to Africa, or some other place, where your +travels would occupy years?" + +Lord Hartledon shook his head. "How can I leave Maude to battle alone +with the exposure, should it come?" + +"It is a great deal less likely to come if you are a few thousand miles +away." + +"I question it. Should Gorton turn up he is just the one to frighten a +defenceless woman, and purchase his own silence. No; my place is beside +Maude." + +"As you please. I have spoken for the last time. By the way, any letters +bearing a certain postmark, that come addressed to me during my absence, +Taylor has orders to send to you. Fare you well, Hartledon; I wish I +could help you to peace." + +Hartledon watched the cab rattle away, and then turned homewards. Peace! +There was no peace for him. + +Lady Hartledon was not to be thwarted on all points, and she insisted +on a ceremonious christening. The countess-dowager would come over for +it, and did so; Lord Hartledon could not be discourteous enough to deny +this; Lord and Lady Kirton came from Ireland; and for the first time +since their marriage they found themselves entertaining guests. Lord +Hartledon had made a faint opposition, but Maude had her own way. The +countess-dowager was furiously indignant when she heard of the intended +sponsors--its father and mother, and that cynical wretch, Thomas Carr! +Val played the hospitable host; but there was a shadow on his face that +his wife did not fail to see. + +It was the evening before the christening, and a very snowy evening +too. Val was dressing for dinner, and Maude, herself ready, sat by him, +her baby on her knee. The child was attired for the first time in a +splendidly-worked robe with looped-up sleeves; and she had brought it +in to challenge admiration for its pretty arms, with all the pardonable +pride of a young mother. + +"Won't you kiss it for once, Val?" + +He took the child in his arms; it had its mother's fine dark eyes, and +looked straight up from them into his. Lord Hartledon suddenly bent his +own face down upon that little one with what seemed like a gesture of +agony; and when he raised it his own eyes were wet with tears. Maude felt +startled with a sort of terror: love was love; but she did not understand +love so painful as this. + +She sat down with the baby on her knee, saying nothing; he did not intend +her to see the signs of emotion. And this brings us to where we were. +Lord Hartledon went on with his toilette, and presently someone knocked +at the door. + +Two letters: they had come by the afternoon post, very much delayed on +account of the snow. He came back to the gaslight, opening one. A full +letter, written closely; but he had barely glanced at it when he hastily +folded it again, and crammed it into his pocket. If ever a movement +expressed something to be concealed, that did. And Lady Hartledon was +gazing at him with her questioning eyes. + +"Wasn't that letter from Thomas Carr?" + +"Yes." + +"Is he coming up? Or is Kirton to be proxy?" + +"He is--coming, I think," said Val, evidently knowing nothing one way or +the other. "He'll be here, I daresay, to-morrow morning." + +Opening the other letter as he spoke--a foreign-looking letter this +one--he put it up in the same hasty manner, with barely a glance; and +then went on slowly with his dressing. + +"Why don't you read your letters, Percival?" + +"I haven't time. Dinner will be waiting." + +She knew that he had plenty of time, and that dinner would not be +waiting; she knew quite certainly that there was something in both +letters she must not see. Rising from her seat in silence, she went out +of the room with her baby; resentment and an unhealthy curiosity doing +battle in her heart. + +Lord Hartledon slipped the bolt of the door and read the letters at once; +the foreign one first, over which he seemed to take an instant's counsel +with himself. Before going down he locked them up in a small ebony +cabinet which stood against the wall. The room was his own exclusively; +his wife had nothing to do with it. + +Had they been alone he might have observed her coolness to him; but, with +guests to entertain, he neither saw nor suspected it. She sat opposite +him at dinner richly dressed, her jewels and smiles alike dazzling: but +the smiles were not turned on him. + +"Is that chosen sponsor of yours coming up for the christening; lawyer +Carr?" tartly inquired the dowager from her seat, bringing her face and +her turban, all scarlet together, to bear on Hartledon. + +"He comes up by this evening's train; will be in London late to-night, if +the snow allows him, and stay with us until Sunday night," replied Val. + +"Oh! _That's_ no doubt the reason why you settled the christening for +Saturday: that your friend might have the benefit of Sunday?" + +"Just so, madam." + +And Lady Hartledon knew, by this, that her husband must have read the +letters. "I wonder what he has done with them?" came the mental thought, +shadowing forth a dim wish that she could read them too. + +In the drawing-room, after dinner, someone proposed a carpet quadrille, +but Lord Hartledon seemed averse to it. In his wife's present mood, his +opposition was, of course, the signal for her approval, and she began +pushing the chairs aside with her own hands. He approached her quietly. + +"Maude, do not let them dance to-night." + +"Why not?" + +"I have a reason. My dear, won't you oblige me in this?" + +"Tell me the reason, and perhaps I will; not otherwise." + +"I will tell it you another time. Trust me, I have a good one. What is +it, Hedges?" + +The butler had come up to his master in the unobtrusive manner of a +well-trained servant, and was waiting an opportunity to speak. He said a +word in Lord Hartledon's ear, and Lady Hartledon saw a shiver of surprise +run through her husband. He looked here, looked there, as one perplexed +with fear, and finally went out of the room with a calm face, but one +that was turning livid. + +Lady Hartledon followed in an impulse of curiosity. She looked after him +over the balustrades, and saw him turn into the library below. Hedges was +standing near the drawing-room door. + +"Does any one want Lord Hartledon?" + +"Yes, my lady." + +"Who is it?" + +"I don't know, my lady. Some gentleman." + +She ran lightly down the stairs, pausing at the foot, as if ashamed of +her persistent curiosity. The well-lighted hall was before her; the +dining-room on one side; the library and a small room communicating on +the other. Throwing back her head, as in defiance, she boldly crossed the +hall and opened the library door. + +Now what Lady Hartledon had really thought was that the visitor was Mr. +Carr; her husband was going to steal a quiet half-hour with him; and +Hedges was in the plot. She had not lived with Hartledon the best part +of a year without learning that Hedges was devoted heart and soul to his +master. + +She opened the library-door. Her husband's back was towards her; and +facing him, his arms raised as if in anger or remonstrance, was the same +stranger who had caused some commotion in the other house. She knew him +in a moment: there he was, with his staid face, his black clothes, and +his white neckcloth, looking so like a clergyman. Lord Hartledon turned +his head. + +"I am engaged, Maude; you can't come in," he peremptorily said; and +closed the door upon her. + +She went slowly up the stairs again, not choosing to meet the butler's +eyes, past the drawing-rooms, and up to her own. The sight of the +stranger, coupled with her husband's signs of emotion, had renewed all +her old suspicions, she knew not, she never had known, of what. Jumping +to the conclusion that those letters must be in some way connected with +the mystery, perhaps an advent of the visit, it set her thinking, and +rebellion arose in her heart. + +"I wonder if he put them in the ebony cabinet?" she exclaimed. "I have a +key that will fit that." + +Yes, she had a key to fit it. A few weeks before, Lord Hartledon mislaid +his keys; he wanted something out of this cabinet, in which he did not, +as a rule, keep anything of consequence, and tried hers. One was found to +unlock it, and he jokingly told her she had a key to his treasures. But +himself strictly honourable, he could not suspect dishonour in another; +and Lord Hartledon supposed it simply impossible that she should attempt +to open it of her own accord. + +They were of different natures; and they had been reared in different +schools. Poor Maude Kirton had learnt to be anything but scrupulous, +and really thought it a very slight thing she was about to do, almost +justifiable under the circumstances. Almost, if not quite. Nevertheless +she would not have liked to be caught at it. + +She took her bunch of keys and went into her husband's dressing-room, +which opened from their bedroom: but she went on tip-toe, as one who +knows she is doing wrong. It took some little time to try the keys, for +there were several on the ring, and she did not know the right one: but +the lid flew open at last, and disclosed the two letters lying there. + +She snatched at one, either that came first, and opened it. It happened +to be the one from Mr. Carr, and she began to read it, her heart beating. + + "Dear Hartledon, + + "I think I have at last found some trace of Gorton. There's a man of + that name in the criminal calendar here, down for trial to-morrow; I + shall see then whether it is the same, but the description tallies. + Should it be our Gorton, I think the better plan will be to leave him + entirely alone: a man undergoing a criminal sentence--and this man is + sure of a long period of it--has neither the means nor the motive to be + dangerous. He cannot molest you whilst he is working on Portland + Island; and, so far, you may live a little eased from fear. I wish--" + +Mr. Carr's was a close handwriting, and this concluded the first page. +She was turning it over, when Lord Hartledon's voice on the stairs caught +her ear. He seemed to be coming up. + +Ay, and he would have caught her at her work but for the accidental +circumstance of the old dowager's happening to look out of the +drawing-room and detaining him, as he was hastening onwards up the +stairs. She did her daughter good service that moment, if she had never +done it before. Maude had time to fold the letter, put it back, lock the +cabinet, and escape. Had she been a nervous woman, given to being +flurried and to losing her presence of mind, she might not have +succeeded; but she was cool and quick in emergency, her brain and fingers +steady. + +Nevertheless her heart beat a little as she stood within the other room, +the door not latched behind her. She did not stir, lest he should hear +her; and she hoped to remain unseen until he went down again. A ready +excuse was on her lips, if he happened to look in, which was not +probable: that she fancied she heard baby cry, and was listening. + +Lord Hartledon was walking about his dressing-room, pacing it restlessly, +and she very distinctly heard suppressed groans of mortal anguish +breaking from his lips. How he had got rid of his visitor, and what +the visitor came for, she knew not. He seemed to halt before the +washhand-stand, pour out some water, and dash his face into it. + +"God help me! God help Maude!" he ejaculated, as he went down again to +the drawing-room. + +And Lady Hartledon went down also, for the interruption had frightened +her, and she did not attempt to open the cabinet again. She never knew +more of the contents of Mr. Carr's letter; and only the substance of the +other, as communicated to her by her husband. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +CROSS-QUESTIONING MR. CARR. + + +Not until the Sunday morning did Lady Hartledon speak to her husband of +the stranger's visit. There seemed to have been no previous opportunity. +Mr. Carr had arrived late on the Friday night; indeed it was Saturday +morning, for the trains were all detained; and he and Hartledon sat up +together to an unconscionable hour. For this short visit he was Lord +Hartledon's guest. Saturday seemed to have been given to preparation, +to gaiety, and to nothing else. Perhaps also Lady Hartledon did not wish +to mar that day by an unpleasant word. The little child was christened; +the names given him being Edward Kirton: the countess-dowager, who was in +a chronic state of dissatisfaction with everything and every one, angrily +exclaimed at the last moment, that she thought at least her family name +might have been given to the child; and Lord Hartledon interposed, and +said, give it. Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Mr. Carr, were the sponsors: +and it would afford food for weeks of grumbling to the old dowager. +Hilarity reigned, and toasts were given to the new heir of Hartledon; +and the only one who seemed not to enter into the spirit of the thing, +but on the contrary to be subdued, absent, nervous, was the heir's +father. + +And so it went on to the Sunday morning. A cold, bleak, bitter morning, +the wind howling, the snow flying in drifts. Mr. Carr went to church, +and he was the only one of the party in the house who did go. The +countess-dowager the previous night had proclaimed the fact that _she_ +meant to go--as a sort of reproach to any who meant to keep away. +However, when the church-bells began, she was turning round in her +warm bed for another nap. + +Maude did not go down early; had not yet taken to doing so. She +breakfasted in her room, remained toying with her baby for some time, +and then went into her own sitting-room; a small cosy apartment on the +drawing-room floor, into which visitors did not intrude. It looked on to +Hyde Park, and a very white and dreary park it was on that particular +day. + +Drawing a chair to the window, she sat looking out. That is, her eyes +were given to the outer world, but she was so deep in thought as to see +nothing of it. For two nights and a day, burning with curiosity, she had +been putting this and that together in her own mind, and drawing +conclusions according to her own light. First, there was the advent of +the visitor; secondly, there was the letter she had dipped into. She +connected the two with each other and wondered WHAT the secret care could +be that had such telling effect upon her husband. + +Gorton. The name had struck upon her memory, even whilst she read it, as +one associated with that terrible time--the late Lord Hartledon's death. +Gradually the floodgates of recollection opened, and she knew him for the +witness at the inquest about whom some speculation had arisen as to who +he was, and what his business at Calne might have been with Lord +Hartledon and his brother, Val Elster. + +Why should her husband be afraid of this man?--as it seemed he _was_ +afraid, by Mr. Carr's letter. What power had he of injuring Lord +Hartledon?--what secret did he possess of his, that might be used against +him? Turning it about in her mind, and turning it again, searching her +imagination for a solution, Lady Hartledon at length arrived at one, in +default of others. She thought this man must know some untoward fact +by which the present Lord Hartledon's succession was imperilled. Possibly +the late Lord Hartledon had made some covert and degrading marriage; +leaving an obscure child who possessed legal rights, and might yet claim +them. A romantic, far-fetched idea, you will say; but she could think of +no other that was in the least feasible. And she remembered some faint +idea having arisen in her mind at the time, that the visit of the man +Gorton was in some way connected with trouble, though she did not know +with which brother. + +Val came in and shut the door. He stirred the fire into a blaze, making +some remark about the snow, and wondering how Carr would get down to the +country again. Maude gave a slight answer, and then there was silence. +Each was considering how best to say something to the other. She was the +quicker. + +"Lord Hartledon, what did that man want on Friday?" + +"What man?" he rejoined, rather wincing--for he knew well enough to what +she alluded. + +"The man--gentleman, or whatever he is--who had you called down to him in +the library." + +"By the way, Maude--yes--you should not dart in when I am engaged with +visitors on business." + +"Well, I thought it was Mr. Carr," she replied, glancing at his +heightened colour. "What did he want?" + +"Only to say a word to me on a matter of business." + +"It was the same person who upset you so when he called last autumn. You +have never been the same man since." + +"Don't take fancies into your head, Maude." + +"Fancies! you know quite well there is no fancy about it. That man holds +some unpleasant secret of yours, I am certain." + +"Maude!" + +"Will you tell it me?" + +"I have nothing to tell." + +"Ah, well; I expected you wouldn't speak," she answered, with subdued +bitterness; as much as to say, that she made a merit of resigning herself +to an injustice she could not help. "You have been keeping things from me +a long time." + +"I have kept nothing from you it would give you pleasure to know. It is +not--Maude, pray hear me--it is not always expedient for a man to make +known to his wife the jars and rubs he has himself to encounter. A +hundred trifles may arise that are best spared to her. That gentleman's +business concerned others as well as myself, and I am not at liberty to +speak of it." + +"You refuse, then, to admit me to your confidence?" + +"In this I do. I am the best judge--and you must allow me to be so--of +what ought, and what ought not, to be spoken of to you. You may always +rely upon my acting for your best happiness, as far as lies in my power." + +He had been pacing the room whilst he spoke. Lady Hartledon was in too +resentful a mood to answer. Glancing at her, he stood by the mantelpiece +and leaned his elbow upon it. + +"I want to make known to you another matter, Maude. If I have kept it +from you--" + +"Does it concern this secret business of yours?" she interrupted. + +"No." + +"Then let us have done with this first, if you please. Who is Gorton?" + +"Who is--Gorton?" he repeated, after a dumbfounded pause. "What Gorton?" + +"Well, I don't know; unless it's that man who gave evidence at the +inquest on your brother." + +Lord Hartledon stared at her, as well he might; and gulped down his +breath, which seemed choking him. "But what about Gorton? Why do you ask +me the question?" + +"Because I fancy he is connected with this trouble. I--I thought I heard +you and Mr. Carr mention the name yesterday when you were whispering +together. I'm sure I did--there!" + +As far as Lord Hartledon remembered, he and Mr. Carr had not been +whispering together yesterday; had not mentioned the name of Gorton. +They had done with the subject at that late sitting, the night of the +barrister's arrival; who had brought news that the Gorton, that morning +tried for a great crime, was _not_ the Gorton of whom they were in +search. Lord Hartledon gazed at his wife with questioning eyes, but she +persisted in her assertion. It was sinfully untrue; but how else could +she account for knowing the name? + +"Do you suppose I dreamed it, Lord Hartledon?" + +"I don't know whether you dreamed it or not, Maude. Mr. Carr has +certainly spoken to me since he came of a man of that name; but as +certainly not in your hearing. One Gorton was tried for his life on +Friday--or almost for his life--and he mentioned to me the circumstances +of the case: housebreaking, accompanied by violence, which ended in +death. I cannot understand you, Maude, or the fancies you seem to be +taking up." + +She saw how it was--he would admit nothing: and she looked straight out +across the dreary park, a certain obstinate defiance veiled in her eyes. +By the help of Heaven or earth, she would find out this secret that he +refused to disclose to her. + +"Almost every action of your life bespeaks concealment," she resumed. +"Look at those letters you received in your dressing-room on Friday +night: you just opened them and thrust them unread into your pocket, +because I happened to be there. And yet you talk of caring for me! I know +those letters contained some secret or other you dare not tell me." + +She rose in some temper, and gave the fire a fierce stir. + +Lord Hartledon kept her by him. + +"One of those letters was from Mr. Carr; and I presume you can make no +objection to my hearing from him. The other--Maude, I have waited until +now to disclose its contents to you; I would not mar your happiness +yesterday." + +She looked up at him. Something in his voice, a sad pitying tenderness, +caused her heart to beat a shade quicker. "It was a foreign letter, +Maude. I think you observed that. It bore the French postmark." + +A light broke upon her. "Oh, Percival, it is about Robert! Surely he is +not worse!" + +He drew her closer to him: not speaking. + +"He is not dead?" she said, with a rush of tears. "Ah, you need not tell +me; I see it. Robert! Robert!" + +"It has been a happy death, Maude, and he is better off. He was quite +ready to go. I wish we were as ready!" + +Lord Hartledon took out the letter and read the chief portion of it to +her. One little part he dexterously omitted, describing the cause of +death--disease of the heart. + +"But I thought he was getting so much better. What has killed him in this +sudden manner?" + +"Well, there was no great hope from the first. I confess I have +entertained none. Mr. Hillary, you know, warned us it might end either +way." + +"Was it decline?" she asked, her tears falling. + +"He has been declining gradually, no doubt." + +"Oh, Percival! Why did you not tell me at once? It seems so cruel to have +had all that entertainment yesterday! This is why you did not wish us to +dance!" + +"And if I had told you, and stopped the entertainment, allowing the poor +little fellow to be christened in gloom and sorrow, you would have been +the first to reproach me; you might have said it augured ill-luck for the +child." + +"Well, perhaps I should; yes, I am sure I should. You have acted rightly, +after all, Val." And it was a candid admission, considering what she had +been previously saying. He bent towards her with a smile, his voice quite +unsteady with its earnestness. + +"You see now with what motive I kept the letter from you. Maude! cannot +this be an earnest that you should trust me for the rest? In all I do, as +Heaven is my witness, I place your comfort first and foremost." + +"Don't be angry with me," she cried, softening at the words. + +He laid his hand on his wife's bent head, thinking how far he was from +anger. Anger? He would have died for her then, at that moment, if it +might have saved her from the sin and shame that she must share with him. + +"Have you told mamma, Percival?" + +"Not yet. It would not have been kept from you long had she known it. She +is not up yet, I think." + +"Who has written?" + +"The doctor who attended him." + +"You'll let me read the letter?" + +"I have written to desire that full particulars may be sent to you: you +shall read that one." + +The tacit refusal did not strike her. She only supposed the future letter +would be more explanatory. He was always anxious for her; and he had +written off on the Friday night to ask for a letter giving fuller +particulars, whilst avoiding mention of the cause of death. + +Thus harmony for the hour was restored between them; and Lord Hartledon +stood the dowager's loud reproaches with equanimity. In possession of the +news of that darling angel's death ever since Friday night, and to have +bottled it up within him till Sunday! She wondered what he thought of +himself! + +After all, Val had not quite "bottled it up." He had made it known to his +brother-in-law, Lord Kirton, and also to Mr. Carr. Both had agreed that +nothing had better be said until the christening-day was over. + +But there came a reaction. When Lady Hartledon had got over her first +grief, the other annoyance returned to her, and she fell again to +brooding over it in a very disturbing fashion. She merited blame for this +in a degree; but not so much as appears on the surface. If that idea, +which she was taking up very seriously, were correct--that her husband's +succession was imperilled--it would be the greatest misfortune that could +happen to her in life. What had she married for but position?--rank, +wealth, her title? any earthly misfortune would be less keen than this. +Any earthly misfortune! Poor Maude! + +It was a sombre dinner that evening; the news of Captain Kirton's death +making it so. Besides relatives, very few guests were staying in the +house; and the large and elaborate dinner-party of the previous day was +reduced to a small one on this. The first to come into the drawing-room +afterwards, following pretty closely on the ladies, was Mr. Carr. The +dowager, who rarely paid attention to appearances, or to anything else, +except her own comfort, had her feet up on a sofa, and was fast asleep; +two ladies were standing in front of the fire, talking in undertones; +Lady Hartledon sat on a sofa a little apart, her baby on her knee; and +her sister-in-law, Lady Kirton, a fragile and rather cross-looking young +woman, who looked as if a breath would blow her away, was standing over +her, studying the infant's face. The latter lady moved away and joined +the group at the fire as Mr. Carr approached Lady Hartledon. + +"You have your little charge here, I see!" + +"Please excuse it; I meant to have sent him away before any of you came +up," she said, quite pleadingly. "Sarah took upon herself to proclaim +aloud that his eyes were not straight, and I could not help having him +brought down to refute her words. Not straight, indeed! She's only +envious of him." + +Sarah was Lady Kirton. Mr. Carr smiled. + +"She has no children herself. I think you might be proud of your godson, +Mr. Carr. But he ought not to have been here to receive you, for all +that." + +"I have come up soon to say good-bye, Lady Hartledon. In ten minutes I +must be gone." + +"In all this snow! What a night to travel in!" + +"Necessity has no law. So, sir, you'd imprison my finger, would you!" + +He had touched the child's hand, and in a moment it was clasped round his +finger. Lady Hartledon laughed. + +"Lady Kirton--the most superstitious woman in the world--would say that +was an omen: you are destined to be his friend through life." + +"As I will be," said the barrister, his tone more earnest than the +occasion seemed to call for. + +Lady Hartledon, with a graciousness she was little in the habit of +showing to Mr. Carr, made room for him beside her, and he sat down. The +baby lay on his back, his wide-open eyes looking upwards, good as gold. + +"How quiet he is! How he stares!" reiterated the barrister, who did not +understand much about babies, except for a shadowy idea that they lived +in a state of crying for the first six months. + +"He is the best child in the world; every one says so," she returned. +"He is not the least--Hey-day! what do you mean by contradicting mamma +like that? Behave yourself, sir." + +For the infant, as if to deny his goodness, set up a sudden cry. Mr. Carr +laughed. He put down his finger again, and the little fingers clasped +round it, and the cry ceased. + +"He does not like to lose his friend, you see, Lady Hartledon." + +"I wish you would be my friend as well as his," she rejoined; and the low +meaning tones struck on Mr. Carr's ear. + +"I trust I am your friend," he answered. + +She was still for a few moments; her pale beautiful face inclining +towards the child's; her large dark eyes bent upon him. She turned them +on Mr. Carr. + +"This has been a sad day." + +"Yes, for you. It is grievous to lose a brother." + +"And to lose him without the opportunity of a last look, a last farewell. +Robert was my best and favourite brother. But the day has been marked as +unhappy for other causes than that." + +Was it an uncomfortable prevision of what was coming that caused Mr. Carr +not to answer her? He talked to the unconscious baby, and played with its +cheeks. + +"What secret is this that you and my husband have between you, Mr. Carr?" +she asked abruptly. + +He ceased his laughing with the baby, said something about its soft face, +was altogether easy and careless in his manner, and then answered in +half-jesting tones: + +"Which one, Lady Hartledon?" + +"Which one! Have you more than one?" she continued, taking the words +literally. + +"We might count up half-a-dozen, I daresay. I cannot tell you how many +things I have not confided to him. We are quite--" + +"I mean the secret that affects _him_" she interrupted, in aggrieved +tones, feeling that Mr. Carr was playing with her. + +"There is some dread upon him that's wearing him to a shadow, poisoning +his happiness, making his days and nights one long restlessness. Do you +think it right to keep it from me, Mr. Carr? Is it what you and he are +both doing--and are in league with each other to do?" + +"_I_ am not keeping any secret from you, Lady Hartledon." + +"You know you are. Nonsense! Do you think I have forgotten that evening +that was the beginning of it, when a tall strange man dressed as a +clergyman, came here, and you both were shut up with him for I can't tell +how long, and Lord Hartledon came out from it looking like a ghost? You +and he both misled me, causing me to believe that the Ashtons were +entering an action against him for breach of promise; laying the damages +at ten thousand pounds. I mean _that_ secret, Mr. Carr," she added with +emphasis. "The same man was here on Friday night again; and when you came +to the house afterwards, you and Lord Hartledon sat up until nearly +daylight." + +Mr. Carr, who had his eyes on the exacting baby, shook his head, and +intimated that he was really unable to understand her. + +"When you are in town he is always at your chambers; when you are away he +receives long letters from you that I may not read." + +"Yes, we have been on terms of close friendship for years. And Lord +Hartledon is an idle man, you know, and looks me up." + +"He said you were arranging some business for him last autumn." + +"Last autumn? Let me see. Yes, I think I was." + +"Mr. Carr, is it of any use playing with me? Do you think it right or +kind to do so?" + +His manner changed at once; he turned to her with eyes as earnest as her +own. + +"Lady Hartledon, I would tell you anything that I could and ought to tell +you. That your husband has been engaged in some complicated business, +which I have been--which I have taken upon myself to arrange for him, is +very true. I know that he does not wish it mentioned, and therefore my +lips are sealed: but it is as well you did not know it, for it would give +you no satisfaction." + +"Does it involve anything very frightful?" + +"It might involve the--the loss of a large sum of money," he answered, +making the best reply he could. + +Lady Hartledon sank her voice to a whisper. "Does it involve the possible +loss of his title?--of Hartledon?" + +"No," said Mr. Carr, looking at her with surprise. + +"You are sure?" + +"Certain. I give you my word. What can have got into your head, Lady +Hartledon?" + +She gave a sigh of relief. "I thought it just possible--but I will not +tell you why I thought it--that some claimant might be springing up to +the title and property." + +Mr. Carr laughed. "That would be a calamity. Hartledon is as surely your +husband's as this watch"--taking it out to look at the time--"is mine. +When his brother died, he succeeded to him of indisputable right. And now +I must go, for my time is up; and when next I see you, young gentleman, +I shall expect a good account of your behaviour. Why, sir, the finger's +mine, not yours. Good-bye, Lady Hartledon." + +She gave him her hand coolly, for she was not pleased. The baby began to +cry, and was sent away with its nurse. + +And then Lady Hartledon sat on alone, feeling that if she were ever to +arrive at the solution of the mystery, it would not be by the help of Mr. +Carr. Other questions had been upon her lips--who the stranger was--what +he wanted--five hundred of them: but she saw that she might as well have +put them to the moon. + +And Lord Hartledon went out with Mr. Carr in the inclement night, and saw +him off by a Great-Western train. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +MAUDE'S DISOBEDIENCE. + + +Again the months went on, it may almost be said the years, and little +took place worthy of record. Time obliterates as well as soothes; and +Lady Hartledon had almost forgotten the circumstances which had perplexed +and troubled her, for nothing more had come of them. + +And Lord Hartledon? But for a certain restlessness, a hectic flush and a +worn frame, betraying that the inward fever was not quenched, a startled +movement if approached or spoken to unexpectedly, it might be thought +that he also was at rest. There were no more anxious visits to Thomas +Carr's chambers; he went about his ordinary duties, sat out his hours +in the House of Lords, and did as other men. There was nothing very +obvious to betray mental apprehension; and Maude had certainly dismissed +the past, so far, from her mind. + +Not again had Val gone down to Hartledon. With the exception of that +short visit of a day or two, already recorded, he had not been there +since his marriage. He would not go: his wife, though she had her way in +most things, could not induce him to go. She went once or twice, in a +spirit of defiance, it may be said, and meanwhile he remained in +London, or took a short trip to the Continent, as the whim prompted him. +Once they had gone abroad together, and remained for some months; taking +servants and the children, for there were two children now; and the +little fellow who had clasped the finger of Mr. Carr was a sturdy boy of +three years old. + +Lady Hartledon's health was beginning to fail. The doctors told her she +must be more quiet; she went out a great deal, and seemed to live only +in the world. Her husband remonstrated with her on the score of health; +but she laughed, and said she was not going to give up pleasure just yet. +Of course these gay habits are more easily acquired than relinquished. +Lady Hartledon had fainting-fits; she felt occasional pain and +palpitation in the region of the heart; and she grew thin without +apparent cause. She said nothing about it, lest it should be made a plea +for living more quietly; never dreaming of danger. Had she known what +caused her brother's death her fears might possibly have been awakened. +Lord Hartledon suspected mischief might be arising, and cautiously +questioned her; she denied that anything was the matter, and he felt +reassured. His chief care was to keep her free from excitement; and in +this hope he gave way to her more than he would otherwise have done. But +alas! the moment was approaching when all his care would be in vain; when +the built-up security of years was destroyed by a single act of wilful +disobedience to him. The sword so long suspended over his head, was to +fall on hers at last. + +One spring afternoon, in London, he was in his wife's sitting-room; the +little room where you have seen her before, looking upon the Park. The +children were playing on the carpet--two pretty little things; the girl +eighteen months old. + +"Take care!" suddenly called out Lady Hartledon. + +Some one was opening the door, and the little Maude was too near to it. +She ran and picked up the child, and Hedges came in with a card for his +master, saying at the same time that the gentleman was waiting. Lord +Hartledon held it to the fire to read the name. + +"Who is it?" asked Lady Hartledon, putting the little girl down by the +window, and approaching her husband. But there came no answer. + +Whether the silence aroused her suspicions--whether any look in her +husband's face recalled that evening of terror long ago--or whether +some malicious instinct whispered the truth, can never be known. Certain +it was that the past rose up as in a mirror before Lady Hartledon's +imagination, and she connected this visitor with the former. She bent +over his shoulder to peep at the card; and her husband, startled out +of his presence of mind, tore it in two and threw the pieces into the +fire. + +"Oh, very well!" she exclaimed, mortally offended. "But you cannot blind +me: it is your mysterious visitor again." + +"I don't know what you mean, Maude. It is only someone on business." + +"Then I will go and ask him his business," she said, moving to the door +with angry resolve. + +Val was too quick for her. He placed his back against the door, and +lifted his hands in agitation. It was a great fault of his, or perhaps +a misfortune--for he could not help it--this want of self-control in +moments of emergency. + +"Maude, I forbid you to interfere in this; you must not. For Heaven's +sake, sit down and remain quiet." + +"I'll see your visitor, and know, at last, what this strange trouble is. +I will, Lord Hartledon." + +"You must not: do you hear me?" he reiterated with deep emotion, for she +was trying to force her way out of the room. "Maude--listen--I do not +mean to be harsh, but for your own good I conjure you to be still. I +forbid you, by the obedience you promised me before God, to inquire into +or stir in this matter. It is a private affair of my own, and not yours. +Stay here until I return." + +Maude drew back, as if in compliance; and Lord Hartledon, supposing +he had prevailed, quitted the room and closed the door. He was quite +mistaken. Never had her solemn vows of obedience been so utterly +despised; never had the temptation to evil been so rife in her heart. + +She unlatched the door and listened. Lord Hartledon went downstairs and +into the library, just as he had done the evening before the christening. +And Lady Hartledon was certain the same man awaited him there. Ringing +the nursery-bell, she took off her slippers, unseen, and hid them under +a chair. + +"Remain here with the children," was her order to the nurse who appeared, +as she shut the woman into the room. + +Creeping down softly she opened the door of the room behind the library, +and glided in. It was a small room, used exclusively by Lord Hartledon, +where he kept a heterogeneous collection of things--papers, books, +cigars, pipes, guns, scientific models, anything--and which no one but +himself ever attempted to enter. The intervening door between that and +the library was not quite closed; and Lady Hartledon, cautiously pushed +it a little further open. Wilful, unpardonable disobedience! when he had +so strongly forbidden her! It was the same tall stranger. He was speaking +in low tones, and Lord Hartledon leaned against the wall with a blank +expression of face. + +She saw; and heard. But how she controlled her feelings, how she remained +and made no sign, she never knew. But that the instinct of self-esteem +was one of her strongest passions, the dread of detection in proportion +to it, she never had remained. There she was, and she could not get away +again. The subtle dexterity which had served her in coming might desert +her in returning. Had their senses been on the alert they might have +heard her poor heart beating. + +The interview did not last long--about twenty minutes; and whilst Lord +Hartledon was attending his visitor to the door she escaped upstairs +again, motioned away the nurse, and resumed her shoes. But what did she +look like? Not like Maude Hartledon. Her face was as that of one upon +whom some awful doom has fallen; her breath was coming painfully; and she +kneeled down on the carpet and clasped her children to her beating heart +with an action of wild despair. + +"Oh, my boy! my boy! Oh, my little Maude!" + +Suddenly she heard her husband's step approaching, and pushing them +from her, rose and stood at the window, apparently looking out on the +darkening world. + +Lord Hartledon came in, gaily and cheerily, his manner lighter than it +had been for years. + +"Well, Maude, I have not been long, you see. Why don't you have lights?" + +She did not answer: only stared straight out. Her husband approached her. +"What are you looking at, Maude?" + +"Nothing," she answered: "my head aches. I think I shall lie down until +dinner-time. Eddie, open the door, and call Nurse, as loud as you can +call." + +The little boy obeyed, and the nurse returned, and was ordered to take +the children. Lady Hartledon was following them to go to her own room, +when she fell into a chair and went off in a dead faint. + +"It's that excitement," said Val. "I do wish Maude would be reasonable!" + +The illness, however, appeared to be more serious than an ordinary +fainting-fit; and Lord Hartledon, remembering the suspicion of +heart-disease, sent for the family doctor Sir Alexander Pepps, an +oracle in the fashionable world. + +A different result showed itself--equally caused by excitement--and the +countess-dowager arrived in a day or two in hot haste. Lady Hartledon lay +in bed, and did not attempt to get up or to get better. She lay almost as +one without life, taking no notice of any one, turning her head from her +husband when he entered, refusing to answer her mother, keeping the +children away from the room. + +"Why doesn't she get up, Pepps?" demanded the dowager, wrathfully, +pouncing upon the physician one day, when he was leaving the house. + +Sir Alexander, who might have been supposed to have received his +baronetcy for his skill, but that titles, like kissing, go by favour, +stopped short, took off his hat, and presumed that Lady Hartledon felt +more comfortable in bed. + +"Rubbish! We might all lie in bed if we studied comfort. Is there any +earthly reason why she should stay there, Pepps?" + +"Not any, except weakness." + +"Except idleness, you mean. Why don't you order her to get up?" + +"I have advised Lady Hartledon to do so, and she does not attend to me," +replied Sir Alexander. + +"Oh," said the dowager. "She was always wilful. What about her heart?" + +"Her heart!" echoed Sir Alexander, looking up now as if a little aroused. + +"Dear me, yes; her heart; I didn't say her liver. Is it sound, Pepps?" + +"It's sound, for anything I know to the contrary. I never suspected +anything the matter with her heart." + +"Then you are a fool!" retorted the complimentary dowager. + +Sir Alexander's temperament was remarkably calm. Nothing could rouse +him out of his tame civility, which had been taken more than once for +obsequiousness. The countess-dowager had patronized him in earlier years, +when he was not a great man, or had begun to dream of becoming one. + +"Don't you recollect I once consulted you on the subject--what's your +memory good for? She was a girl then, of fourteen or so; and you were +worth fifty of what you are now, in point of discernment." + +The oracle carried his thoughts back, and really could not recollect it. +"Ahem! yes; and the result was--was--" + +"The result was that you said the heart had nothing the matter with it, +and I said it had," broke in the impatient dowager. + +"Ah, yes, madam, I remember. Pray, have you reason to suspect anything +wrong now?" + +"That's what you ought to have ascertained, Pepps, not me. What d'you +mean by your neglect? What, I ask, does she lie in bed for? If her +heart's right, there's nothing more the matter with her than there is +with you." + +"Perhaps your ladyship can persuade Lady Hartledon to exert herself," +suggested the bland doctor. "I can't; and I confess I think that she only +wants rousing." + +With a flourish of his hat and his small gold-headed black cane the +doctor bowed himself out from the formidable dowager. That lady turned +her back upon him, and betook herself on the spur of the moment to +Maude's room, determined to "have it out." + +Curious sounds greeted her, as of some one in hysterical pain. On the +bed, clasped to his mother in nervous agony, was the wondering child, +little Lord Elster: words of distress, nay, of despair, breaking from +her. It seemed, the little boy, who was rather self-willed and rebellious +on occasion, had escaped from the nursery, and stolen to his mother's +room. The dowager halted at the door, and looked out from her astonished +eyes. + +"Oh, Edward, if we were but dead! Oh, my darling, if it would only please +Heaven to take us both! I couldn't send for you, child; I couldn't see +you; the sight of you kills me. You don't know; my babies, you don't +know!" + +"What on earth does all this mean?" interrupted the dowager, stepping +forward. And Lady Hartledon dropped the boy, and fell back on the bed, +exhausted. + +"What have you done to your mamma, sir?" + +The child, conscious that he had not done anything, but frightened on the +whole, repented of his disobedience, and escaped from the chamber more +quickly than he had entered it. The dowager hated to be puzzled, and went +wrathfully up to her daughter. + +"Perhaps you'll tell me what's the matter, Maude." + +Lady Hartledon grew calm. The countess-dowager pressed the question. + +"There's nothing the matter," came the tardy and rather sullen reply. + +"Why do you wish yourself dead, then?" + +"Because I do." + +"How dare you answer me so?" + +"It's the truth. I should be spared suffering." + +The countess-dowager paused. "Spared suffering!" she mentally repeated; +and being a woman given to arriving at rapid conclusions without rhyme or +reason, she bethought herself that Maude must have become acquainted with +the suspicion regarding her heart. + +"Who told you that?" shrieked the dowager. "It was that fool Hartledon." + +"He has told me nothing," said Maude, in an access of resentment, all too +visible. "Told me what?" + +"Why, about your heart. That's what I suppose it is." + +Maude raised herself upon her elbow, her wan face fixed on her mother's. +"Is there anything the matter with my heart?" she calmly asked. + +And then the old woman found that she had made a grievous mistake, and +hastened to repair it. + +"I thought there might be, and asked Pepps. I've just asked him now; and +he's says there's nothing the matter with it." + +"I wish there were!" said Maude. + +"You wish there were! That's a pretty wish for a reasonable Christian," +cried the tart dowager. "You want your husband to lecture you; saying +such things." + +"I wish he were hanged!" cried Maude, showing her glistening teeth. + +"My gracious!" exclaimed the wondering old lady, after a pause. "What has +he done?" + +"Why did you urge me to marry him? Oh, mother, can't you see that I am +dying--dying of horror--and shame--and grief? You had better have buried +me instead." + +For once in her selfish and vulgar mind the countess-dowager felt a +feeling akin to fear. In her astonishment she thought Maude must be going +mad. + +"You'd do well to get some sleep, dear," she said in a subdued tone; "and +to-morrow you must get up; Pepps says so; he thinks you want rousing." + +"I have not slept since; it's not sleep, it's a dead stupor, in which +I dream things as horrible as the reality," murmured Maude, unconscious +perhaps that she spoke aloud. "I shall never sleep again." + +"Not slept since when?" + +"I don't know." + +"Can't you say what you mean?" cried the puzzled dowager. "If you've any +grievance, tell it out; if you've not, don't talk nonsense." + +But Lady Hartledon, though thus sweetly allured to confession, held her +tongue. Her half-scattered senses came back to her, and with them a +reticence she would not break. The countess-dowager hardly knew whether +she deserved pitying or shaking, and went off in a fit of exasperation, +breaking in upon her son-in-law as he was busy looking over some accounts +in the library. + +"I want to know what is the matter with Maude." + +He turned round in his chair, and met the dowager's flaxen wig and +crimson face. Val did not know what was the matter with his wife any more +than the questioner did. He supposed she would be all right when she grew +stronger. + +"She says it's _you_" said the gentle dowager, improving upon her +information. "She has just been wishing you were hanged." + +"Ah, you have been teasing her," he returned, with composure. "Maude says +all sorts of things when she's put out." + +"Perhaps she does," was the retort; "but she meant this, for she showed +her teeth when she said it. You can't blind me; and I have seen ever +since I came here that there was something wrong between you and Maude." + +For that matter, Val had seen it too. Since the night of his wife's +fainting-fit she had scarcely spoken a word to him; had appeared as if +she could not tolerate his presence for an instant in her room. Lord +Hartledon felt persuaded that it arose from resentment at his having +refused to allow her to see the stranger. He rose from his seat. + +"There's nothing wrong between me and Maude, Lady Kirton. If there were, +you must pardon me for saying that I could not suffer any interference in +it. But there is not." + +"Something's wrong somewhere. I found her just now sobbing and moaning +over Eddie, wishing they were both dead, and all the rest of it. If she +goes on like this for nothing, she's losing her senses, that's all." + +"She'll be all right when she's stronger. Pray don't worry her. She'll be +well soon, I daresay. And now I shall be glad if you'll leave me, for I +am very busy." + +She did not leave him any the quicker for the request, but stayed to +worry him, as it was in her nature to worry every one. Getting rid of her +at last, he turned the key of the door, and wished her a hundred miles +away. + +The wish bore fruit. In a few days some news she heard regarding her +eldest son--who was a widower now--took the dowager to Ireland, and Lord +Hartledon wished he could as easily turn the key of the house upon her as +he had turned that of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE SWORD SLIPPED. + + +Summer dust was in the London streets, summer weather in the air, and the +carriage of that fashionable practitioner, Sir Alexander Pepps, still +waited before Lord Hartledon's house. It had waited there more frequently +in these later weeks than of old. + +The great world--_her_ world--wondered what was the matter with her: Sir +Alexander wondered also. Perhaps had he been a less courtly man he might +have rapped out "obstinacy," if questioned upon the point; as it was, he +murmured of "weakness." Weak she undoubtedly was; and she did not seem to +try in the least to grow strong again. She did not go into society now; +she dressed as usual, and sat in her drawing-room, and received visitors +if the whim took her; but she was usually denied to all; and said she was +not well enough to go out. From her husband she remained bitterly +estranged. If he attempted to be friendly with her, to ask what was +ailing her, she either sharply refused to say, or maintained a persistent +silence. Lord Hartledon could not account for her behaviour, and was +growing tired of it. + +Poor Maude! That some grievous blow had fallen upon her was all too +evident. Resentment, anguish, bitter despair alternated within her +breast, and she seemed really not to care whether she lived or died. Was +it for _this_ that she had schemed, and so successfully, to wrest Lord +Hartledon from his promised bride Anne Ashton? She would lie back in her +chair and ask it. No labour of hers could by any possibility have brought +forth a result by which Miss Ashton could be so well avenged. Heaven is +true to itself, and Dr. Ashton had left vengeance with it. Lady Hartledon +looked back on her fleeting triumph; a triumph at the time certainly, but +a short one. It had not fulfilled its golden promises: that sort of +triumph perhaps never does. It had been followed by ennui, repentance, +dissatisfaction with her husband, and it had resulted in a very moonlight +sort of happiness, which had at length centred only in the children. The +children! Maude gave a cry of anguish as she thought of them. No; take it +altogether, the play from the first had not been worth the candle. And +now? She clasped her thin hands in a frenzy of impotent rage--with Anne +Ashton had lain the real triumph, with herself the sacrifice. Too well +Maude understood a remark her husband once made in answer to a reproach +of hers in the first year of their marriage--that he was thankful not to +have wedded Anne. + +One morning Sir Alexander Pepps, on his way from the drawing-room +to his chariot--a very old-fashioned chariot that all the world knew +well--paused midway in the hall, with his cane to his nose, and +condescended to address the man with the powdered wig who was escorting +him. + +"Is his lordship at home?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I wish to see him." + +So the wig changed its course, and Sir Alexander was bowed into +the presence. His lordship rose with what the French would call +_empressement_, to receive the great man. + +"Thank you, I have not time to sit," said he, declining the offered chair +and standing, cane in hand. "I have three consultations to-day, and some +urgent cases. I grieve to have a painful duty to fulfil; but I must +inform you that Lady Hartledon's health gives me uneasiness." + +Lord Hartledon did not immediately reply; but it was not from want of +genuine concern. + +"What is really the matter with her?" + +"Debility; nothing else," replied Sir Alexander. "But these cases of +extreme debility cause so much perplexity. Where there is no particular +disease to treat, and the patient does not rally, why--" + +He understood the doctor's pause to mean something ominous. "What can be +done?" he asked. "I have remarked, with pain, that she does not gain +strength. Change of air? The seaside--" + +"She says she won't go," interrupted the physician. "In fact, her +ladyship objects to everything I can suggest or propose." + +"It's very strange," said Lord Hartledon. + +"At times it has occurred to me that she has something on her mind," +continued Sir Alexander. "Upon my delicately hinting this opinion to Lady +Hartledon, she denied it with a vehemence which caused me to suspect that +I was correct. Does your lordship know of anything likely to--to torment +her?" + +"Not anything," replied Lord Hartledon, confidently. "I think I can +assure you that there is nothing of the sort." + +And he spoke according to his belief; for he knew of nothing. He would +have supposed it simply impossible that Lady Hartledon had been made +privy to the dreadful secret which had weighed on him; and he never gave +that a thought. + +Sir Alexander nodded, reassured on the point. + +"I should wish for a consultation, if your lordship has no objection." + +"Then pray call it without delay. Have anything, do anything, that may +conduce to Lady Hartledon's recovery. You do not suspect heart-disease?" + +"The symptoms are not those of any heart-disease known to me. Lady Kirton +spoke to me of this; but I see nothing to apprehend at present on that +score. If there's any latent affection, it has not yet shown itself. Then +we'll arrange the consultation for to-morrow." + +Sir Alexander Pepps was bowed out; and the consultation took place; which +left the matter just where it was before. The wise doctors thought there +was nothing radically wrong; but strongly recommended change of air. Sir +Alexander confidently mentioned Torbay; he had great faith in Torbay; +perhaps his lordship could induce Lady Hartledon to try it? She had +flatly told the consultation that she would _not_ try it. + +Lady Hartledon was seated in the drawing-room when he went in, willing to +do what he could; any urging of his had not gone far with her of late. A +white silk shawl covered her dress of green check silk; she wore a shawl +constantly now, having a perpetual tendency to shiver; her handsome +features were white and attenuated, but her eyes were brilliant still, +and her dark hair was dressed in elaborate braids. + +"So you have had the doctors here, Maude," he remarked, cheerfully. + +She nodded a reply, and began to fidget with the body of her gown. It +seemed that she had to do something or other always to her attire +whenever he spoke to her--which partially took away her attention. + +"Sir Alexander tells me they have been recommending you Torbay." + +"I am not going to Torbay." + +"Oh yes, you are, Maude," he soothingly said. "It will be a change for us +all. The children will benefit by it as much as you, and so shall I." + +"I tell you I shall not go to Torbay." + +"Would you prefer any other place?" + +"I will not go anywhere; I have told them so." + +"Then I declare that I'll carry you off by force!" he cried, rather +sharply. "Why do you vex me like this? You know you must go?" + +She made no reply. He drew a chair close to her and sat down. + +"Maude," he said, speaking all the more gently for his recent outbreak, +"you must be aware that you do not recover as quickly as we could wish--" + +"I do not recover at all," she interrupted. "I don't want to recover." + +"My dear, how can you talk so? There is nothing the matter with you but +weakness, and that will soon be overcome if you exert yourself." + +"No, it won't. I shall not leave home." + +"Somewhere you must go, for the workmen are coming into the house; and +for the next two months it will not be habitable." + +"Who is bringing them in?" she asked, with flashing eyes. + +"You know it was decided long ago that the house should be done up this +summer. It wants it badly enough. Torbay--" + +"I will not go to Torbay, Lord Hartledon. If I am to be turned out of +this house, I'll go to the other." + +"What other?" + +"Hartledon." + +"Not to Hartledon," said he, quickly, for his dislike to the place had +grown with time, and the word grated on his ear. + +"Then I remain where I am." + +"Maude," he resumed in quiet tones, "I will not urge you to try sea-air +for my sake, because you do what you can to show me I am of little moment +to you; but I will say try it for the sake of the children. Surely, they +are dear to you!" + +A subdued sound of pain broke from her lips, as if she could not bear to +hear them named. + +"It's of no use prolonging this discussion," she said. "An invalid's +fancies may generally be trusted, and mine point to Hartledon--if I am to +be disturbed at all. I should not so much mind going there." + +A pause ensued. Lord Hartledon had taken her hand, and was mechanically +turning round her wedding-ring, his thoughts far away; it hung +sufficiently loosely now on the wasted finger. She lay back in her +chair, looking on with apathy, too indifferent to withdraw her hand. + +"Why did you put it on?" she asked, abruptly. + +"Why indeed?" returned his lordship, deep in his abstraction. "What did +you say, Maude?" he added, awaking in a flurry. "Put what on?" + +"My wedding-ring." + +"My dear! But about Hartledon--if you fancy that, and nowhere else, +I suppose we must go there." + +"You also?" + +"Of course." + +"Ah! when your wife's chord of life is loosening what model husbands you +men become!" she uttered. "You have never gone to Hartledon with me; you +have suffered me to be there alone, through a ridiculous reminiscence; +but now that you are about to lose me you will go!" + +"Why do you encourage these gloomy thoughts about yourself, Maude?" he +asked, passing over the Hartledon question. "One would think you wished +to die." + +"I do not know," she replied in tones of deliberation. "Of course, no +one, at my age, can be tired of the world, and for some things I wish to +live; but for others, I shall be glad to die." + +"Maude! Maude! It is wrong to say this. You are not likely to die." + +"I can't tell. All I say is, I shall be glad for some things, if I do." + +"What is all this?" he exclaimed, after a bewildered pause. "Is there +anything on your mind, Maude? Are you grieving after that little infant?" + +"No," she answered, "not for him. I grieve for the two who remain." + +Lord Hartledon looked at her. A dread, which he strove to throw from him, +struggling to his conscience. + +"I think you are deceived in my state of health. And if I object to going +to the seaside, it is chiefly because I would not die in a strange place. +If I am to die, I should like to die at Hartledon." + +His hair seemed to rise up in horror at the words. "Maude! have you any +disease you are concealing from me?" + +"Not any. But the belief has been upon me for some time that I should not +get over this. You must have seen how I appear to be sinking." + +"And with no disease upon you! I don't understand it." + +"No particular physical disease." + +"You are weak, dispirited--I cannot pursue these questions," he broke +off. "Tell me in a word: is there any cause for this?" + +"Yes." + +Percival gathered up his breath. "What is it?" + +"What is it!" her eyes ablaze with sudden light. "What has weighed _you_ +down, not to the grave, for men are strong, but to terror, and shame, and +sin? What secret is it, Lord Hartledon?" + +His lips were whitening. "But it--even allowing that I have a +secret--need not weigh you down." + +"Not weigh me down!--to terror deeper than yours; to shame more abject? +Suppose I know the secret?" + +"You cannot know it," he gasped. "It would have killed you." + +"And what _has_ it done? Look at me." + +"Oh, Maude!" he wailed, "what is it that you do, or do not know? How did +you learn anything about it?" + +"I learnt it through my own folly. I am sorry for it now. My knowing it +can make the fact neither better nor worse; and perhaps I might have been +spared the knowledge to the end." + +"But what is it that you know?" he asked, rather wishing at the moment he +was dead himself. + +"_All._" + +"It is impossible." + +"It is true." + +And he felt that it was true; here was the solution to the conduct which +had puzzled him, puzzled the doctors, puzzled the household and the +countess-dowager. + +"And how--and how?" he gasped. + +"When that stranger was here last, I heard what he said to you," she +replied, avowing the fact without shame in the moment's terrible anguish. +"I made the third at the interview." + +He looked at her in utter disbelief. + +"You refused to let me go down. I followed you, and stood at the little +door of the library. It was open, and I--heard--every word." + +The last words were spoken with an hysterical sobbing. "Oh, Maude!" broke +from the lips of Lord Hartledon. + +"You will reproach me for disobedience, of course; for meanness, perhaps; +but I _knew_ there was some awful secret, and you would not tell me. I +earned my punishment, if that will be any satisfaction to you; I have +never since enjoyed an instant's peace, night or day." + +He hid his face in his pain. This was the moment he had dreaded for +years; anything, so that it might be kept from her, he had prayed in his +never-ceasing fear. + +"Forgive, forgive me! Oh, Maude, forgive me!" + +She did not respond; she did not attempt to soothe him; if ever looks +expressed reproach and aversion, hers did then. + +"Have compassion upon me, Maude! I was more sinned against than sinning." + +"What compassion had you for me? How dared you marry me? you, bound with +crime?" + +"The worst is over, Maude; the worst is over." + +"It can never be over: you are guilty of wilful sophistry. The crime +remains; and--Lord Hartledon--its fruits remain." + +He interrupted her excited words by voice and gesture; he took her hands +in his. She snatched them from him, and burst into a fit of hysterical +crying, which ended in a faintness almost as of death. He did not dare to +call assistance; an unguarded word might have slipped out unawares. + +Shut them in; shut them in! they had need to be alone in a scene such as +that. + +Lord and Lady Hartledon went down to Calne, as she wished. But not +immediately; some two or three weeks elapsed, and during that time Mr. +Carr was a good deal with both of them. Their sole friend: the only man +cognizant of the trouble they had yet to battle with; who alone might +whisper a word of something like consolation. + +Lady Hartledon seemed to improve. Whether it was the country, or the sort +of patched-up peace that reigned between her and her husband, she grew +stronger and better, and began to go out again and enjoy life as usual. +But in saying life, it must not be thought that gaiety is implied; none +could shun that as Lady Hartledon now seemed to shun it. And he, for +the first time since his marriage, began to take some interest in his +native place, and in his own home. The old sensitive feeling in regard to +meeting the Ashtons lingered still; was almost as strong as ever; and he +had the good sense to see that this must be overcome, if possible, if he +made Hartledon his home for the future, as his wife now talked of doing. + +As a preliminary step to it, he appeared at church; one, two, three +Sundays. On the second Sunday his wife went with him. Anne was in her +pew, with her younger brother, but not Mrs. Ashton: she, as Lord +Hartledon knew by report, was too ill now to go out. Each day Dr. Ashton +did the whole duty; his curate, Mr. Graves, was taking a holiday. Lord +Hartledon heard another report, that the curate had been wanting to +press his attentions on Miss Ashton. The truth was, as none had known +better than Val Elster, Mr. Graves had wanted to press them years and +years ago. He had at length made her an offer, and she had angrily +refused him. A foolish girl! said indignant Mrs. Graves, reproachfully. +Her son was a model son, and would make a model husband; and he would +be a wealthy man, as Anne knew, for he must sooner or later come into the +entailed property of his uncle. It was not at all pleasant to Lord +Hartledon to stand there in his pew, with recollection upon him, and the +gaze of the Ashtons studiously turned from him, and Jabez Gum looking out +at him from the corners of his eyes as he made his sonorous responses. A +wish for reconciliation took strong possession of Lord Hartledon, and he +wondered whether he could not bring himself to sue for it. He wanted +besides to stay for the after-service, which he had not done since he was +a young man--never since his marriage. Maude had stayed occasionally, as +was the fashion; but he never. I beg you not to quarrel with me for the +word; some of the partakers in that after-service remain from no higher +motive. Certainly poor Maude had not. + +On the third Sunday, Lord Hartledon went to church in the evening--alone; +and when service was over he waited until the church had emptied itself, +and then made his way into the vestry. Jabez was passing out of it, and +the Rector was coming out behind him. Lord Hartledon stopped the latter, +and craved a minute's conversation. Dr. Ashton bowed rather stiffly, put +his hat down, and Jabez shut them in. + +"Is there any service you require of me?" inquired the Rector, coldly. + +It was the impulsive Val Elster of old days who answered; his hand held +out pleadingly, his ingenuous soul shining forth from his blue eyes. + +"Yes, there is, Doctor Ashton; I have come to pray for it--your +forgiveness." + +"My Christian forgiveness you have had already," returned the clergyman, +after a pause. + +"But I want something else. I want your pardon as a man; I want you to +look at me and speak to me as you used to do. I want to hear you call me +'Val' again; to take my hand in yours, and not coldly; in short, I want +you to help me to forgive myself." + +In that moment--and Dr. Ashton, minister of the gospel though he was, +could not have explained it--all the old love for Val Elster rose +bubbling in his heart. A stubborn heart withal, as all hearts are since +Adam sinned; he did not respond to the offered hand, nor did his features +relax their sternness in spite of the pleading look. + +"You must be aware, Lord Hartledon, that your conduct does not merit +pardon. As to friendship--which is what you ask for--it would be +incompatible with the distance you and I must observe towards each +other." + +"Why need we observe it--if you accord me your true forgiveness?" + +The question was one not easy to respond to candidly. The doctor could +not say, Your intercourse with us might still be dangerous to the peace +of one heart; and in his inner conviction he believed that it might be. +He only looked at Val; the yearning face, the tearful eyes; and in that +moment it occurred to the doctor that something more than the ordinary +wear and tear of life had worn the once smooth brow, brought streaks of +silver to the still luxuriant hair. + +"Do you know that you nearly killed her?" he asked, his voice softening. + +"I have known that it might be so. Had _any_ atonement lain in my power; +any means by which her grief might have been soothed; I would have gone +to the ends of the earth to accomplish it. I would even have died if it +could have done good. But, of all the world, I alone might attempt +nothing. For myself I have spent the years in misery; not on that score," +he hastened to add in his truth, and a thought crossed Dr. Ashton that he +must allude to unhappiness with his wife--"on another. If it will be any +consolation to know it--if you might accept it as even the faintest +shadow of atonement--I can truly say that few have gone through the care +that I have, and lived. Anne has been amply avenged." + +The Rector laid his hand on the slender fingers, hot with fever, whiter +than they ought to be, betraying life's inward care. He forgave him from +that moment; and forgiveness with Dr. Ashton meant the full meaning of +the word. + +"You were always your own enemy, Val." + +"Ay. Heaven alone knows the extent of my folly; and of my punishment." + +From that hour Lord Hartledon and the Rectory were not total strangers to +each other. He called there once in a way, rarely seeing any one but the +doctor; now and then Mrs. Ashton; by chance, Anne. Times and again was it +on Val's lips to confide to Dr. Ashton the nature of the sin upon his +conscience; but his innate sensitiveness, the shame it would reflect +upon him, stepped in and sealed the secret. + +Meanwhile, perhaps he and his wife had never lived on terms of truer +cordiality. _There were no secrets between them_: and let me tell you +that is one of the keys to happiness in married life. Whatever the past +had been, Lady Hartledon appeared to condone it; at least she no longer +openly resented it to her husband. It is just possible that a shadow of +the future, a prevision of the severing of the tie, very near now, might +have been unconsciously upon her, guiding her spirit to meekness, if not +yet quite to peace. Lord Hartledon thought she was growing strong; and, +save that she would rather often go into a passion of hysterical tears as +she clasped her children to her, particularly the boy, her days passed +calmly enough. She indulged the children beyond all reason, and it was of +no use for their father to interfere. Once when he stepped in to prevent +it, she flew out almost like a tigress, asking what business it was of +his, that he should dare to come between her and them. The lesson was an +effectual one; and he never interfered again. But the indulgence was +telling on the boy's naturally haughty disposition; and not for good. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +IN THE PARK. + + +As the days and weeks went on, and Lord and Lady Hartledon continued at +Calne, there was one circumstance that began to impress itself on the +mind of the former in a careless sort of way--that he was constantly +meeting Pike. Go out when he would, he was sure to see Pike in some +out-of-the-way spot; at a sudden turning, or peering forth from under +a group of trees, or watching him from a roadside bank. One special day +impressed itself on Lord Hartledon's memory. He was walking slowly along +the road with Dr. Ashton, and found Pike keeping pace with them softly on +the other side the hedge, listening no doubt to what he could hear. On +one of these occasions Val stopped and confronted him. + +"What is it you want, Mr. Pike?" + +Perhaps Mr. Pike was about the last man in the world to be, as the saying +runs, "taken aback," and he stood his ground, and boldly answered +"Nothing." + +"It seems as though you did," said Val. "Go where I will, you are sure to +spring up before me, or to be peeping from some ambush as I walk along. +It will not do: do you understand?" + +"I was just thinking the same thing yesterday--that your lordship was +always meeting _me_," said Pike. "No offence on either side, I dare say." + +Val walked on, throwing the man a significant look of warning, but +vouchsafing no other reply. After that Pike was a little more cautious, +and kept aloof for a time; but Val knew that he was still watched on +occasion. + +One fine October day, when the grain had been gathered in and the fields +were bare with stubble, Hartledon, alone in one of the front rooms, heard +a contest going on outside. Throwing up the window, he saw his young son +attempting to mount the groom's pony: the latter objecting. At the door +stood a low basket carriage, harnessed with the fellow pony. They +belonged to Lady Hartledon; sometimes she drove only one; and the groom, +a young lad of fourteen, light and slim, rode the other: sometimes both +ponies were in the carriage; and on those occasions the boy sat by her +side, and drove. + +"What's the matter, Edward?" called out Lord Hartledon to his son. + +"Young lordship wants to ride the pony, my lord," said the groom. "My +lady ordered me to ride it." + +At this juncture Lady Hartledon appeared on the scene, ready for her +drive. She had intended to take her little son with her--as she generally +did--but the child boisterously demanded that he should ride the pony for +once, and she weakly yielded. Lord Hartledon's private opinion, looking +on, was that she was literally incapable of denying him any earthly thing +he chose to demand. He went out. + +"He had better go with you in the carriage, Maude." + +"Not at all. He sits very well now, and the pony's perfectly quiet." + +"But he is too young to ride by the side of any vehicle. It is not safe. +Let him sit with you as usual." + +"Nonsense! Edward, you shall ride the pony. Help him up, Ralph." + +"No, Maude. He--" + +"Be quiet!" said Lady Hartledon, bending towards her husband and speaking +in low tones. "It is not for you to interfere. Would you deny him +everything?" + +A strangely bitter expression sat on Val's lips. Not of anger; not even +mortification, but sad, cruel pain. He said no more. + +And the cavalcade started. Lady Hartledon driving, the boy-groom sitting +beside her, and Eddie's short legs striding the pony. They were keeping +to the Park, she called to her husband, and she should drive slowly. + +There was no real danger, as Val believed; only he did not like the +child's wilful temper given way to. With a deep sigh he turned indoors +for his hat, and went strolling down the avenue. Mrs. Capper dropped a +curtsey as he passed the lodge. + +"Have you heard from your son yet?" he asked. + +"Yes, my lord, many thanks to you. The school suits him bravely." + +Turning out of the gates, he saw Floyd, the miller, walking slowly along. +The man had been confined to his bed for weeks in the summer, with an +attack of acute rheumatism, and to the house afterwards. It was the first +time they had met since that morning long ago, when the miller brought up +the purse. Lord Hartledon did not know him at first, he was so altered; +pale and reduced. + +"Is it really you, Floyd?" + +"What's left of me, my lord." + +"And that's not much; but I am glad to see you so far well," said +Hartledon, in his usual kindly tone. "I have heard reports of you from +Mr. Hillary." + +"Your lordship's altered too." + +"Am I?" + +"Well, it seems so to me. But it's some few years now since I saw you. +Nothing has ever come to light about that pocket-book, my lord." + +"I conclude not, or I should have heard of it." + +"And your lordship never came down to see the place!" + +"No. I left Hartledon the same day, I think, or the next. After all, +Floyd, I don't see that it is of any use looking into these painful +things: it cannot bring the dead to life again." + +"That's, true," said the miller. + +He was walking into Calne. Lord Hartledon kept by his side, talking to +him. He promised to be as popular a man as his father had been; and that +was saying a great deal. When they came opposite the Rectory, Lord +Hartledon wished him good day and more strength, in his genial manner, +and turned in at the Rectory gates. + +About once a week he was in the habit of calling upon Mrs. Ashton. Peace +was between them; and these visits to her sick-chamber were strangely +welcome to her heart. She had loved Val Elster all her life, and she +loved him still, in spite of the past. For Val was curiously subdued; and +his present mood, sad, quiet, thoughtful, was more endearing than his +gayer one had been. Mrs. Ashton did not fail to read that he was a +disappointed man, one with some constant care upon him. + +Anne was in the hall when he entered, talking to a poor applicant who was +waiting to see the Rector. Lord Hartledon lifted his hat to her, but did +not offer to shake hands. He had never presumed to touch her hand since +the reconciliation; in fact, he scarcely ever saw her. + +"How is Mrs. Ashton to-day?" + +"A little better, I think. She will be glad to see you." + +He followed the servant upstairs, and Anne turned to the woman again. +Mrs. Ashton was in an easy-chair near the window; he drew one close to +her. + +"You are looking wonderful to-day, do you know?" he began in tones almost +as gay as those of the light-hearted Val Elster. "What is it? That very +becoming cap?" + +"The cap, of course. Don't you see its pink ribbons? Your favourite +colour used to be pink, Val. Do you remember?" + +"I remember everything. But indeed and in truth you look better, dear +Mrs. Ashton." + +"Yes, better to-day," she said, with a sigh. "I shall fluctuate to the +end, I suppose; one day better, the next worse. Val, I think sometimes +it is not far off now." + +Very far off he knew it could not be. But he spoke of hope still: it was +in his nature to do so. In the depths of his heart, so hidden from the +world, there seemed to be hope for the whole living creation, himself +excepted. + +"How is your wife to-day?" + +"Quite well. She and Edward are out with the ponies and carriage." + +"She never comes to see me." + +"She does not go to see anyone. Though well, she's not very strong yet." + +"But she's young, and will grow strong. I shall only grow weaker. I am +brave to-day; but you should have seen me last night. So prostrate! I +almost doubted whether I should rise from my bed again. I do not think +you will have to come here many more times." + +"Oh, Mrs. Ashton!" + +"A little sooner or a little later, what does it matter, I try to ask +myself; but parting is parting, and my heart aches sometimes. One of my +aches will be leaving you." + +"A very minor one then," he said, with deprecation; but tears shone in +his dark blue eyes. + +"Not a minor one. I have loved you as a son. I never loved you more, +Percival, than when that letter of yours came to me at Cannes." + +It was the first time she had alluded to it: the letter written the +evening of his marriage. Val's face turned red, for his perfidy rose up +before him in its full extent of shame. + +"I don't care to speak of that," he whispered. "If you only knew what my +humiliation has been!" + +"Not of that, no; I don't know why I mentioned it. But I want you to +speak of something else, Val. Over and over again has it been on my lips +to ask it. What secret trouble is weighing you down?" + +A far greater change, than the one called up by recollection and its +shame, came over his face now. He did not speak; and Mrs. Ashton +continued. She held his hands as he bent towards her. + +"I have seen it all along. At first--I don't mind confessing it--I took +it for granted that you were on bad terms with yourself on account of the +past. I feared there was something wrong between you and your wife, and +that you were regretting Anne. But I soon put that idea from me, to +replace it with a graver one." + +"What graver one?" he asked. + +"Nay, I know not. I want you to tell me. Will you do so?" + +He shook his head with an unmistakable gesture, unconsciously pressing +her hands to pain. + +"Why not?" + +"You have just said I am dear to you," he whispered; "I believe I am so." + +"As dear, almost, as my own children." + +"Then do not even wish to know it. It is an awful secret; and I must bear +it without sympathy of any sort, alone and in silence. It has been upon +me for some years now, taking the sweetness out of my daily bread; and it +will, I suppose, go with me to my grave. Not scarcely to lift it off my +shoulders, would I impart it to _you_." + +She sighed deeply; and thought it must be connected with some of his +youthful follies. But she loved him still; she had faith in him; she +believed that he went wrong from misfortune more than from fault. + +"Courage, Val," she whispered. "There is a better world than this, +where sorrow and sighing cannot enter. Patience--and hope--and trust in +God!--always bearing onwards. In time we shall attain to it." + +Lord Hartledon gently drew his hands away, and turned to the window for a +moment's respite. His eyes were greeted with the sight of one of his own +servants, approaching the Rectory at full speed, some half-dozen idlers +behind him. + +With a prevision that something was wrong, he said a word of adieu to +Mrs. Ashton, went down, and met the man outside. Dr. Ashton, who had seen +the approach, also hurried out. + +There had been some accident in the Park, the man said. The pony had +swerved and thrown little Lord Elster: thrown him right under the other +pony's feet, as it seemed. The servant made rather a bungle over his +news, but this was its substance. + +"And the result? Is he much hurt?" asked Lord Hartledon, constraining his +voice to calmness. + +"Well, no; not hurt at all, my lord. He was up again soon, saying he'd +lash the pony for throwing him. He don't seem hurt a bit." + +"Then why need you have alarmed us so?" interrupted Dr. Ashton, +reprovingly. + +"Well, sir, it's her ladyship seems hurt--or something," cried the man. + +Lord Hartledon looked at him. + +"What have you come to tell, Richard? Speak out." + +Apparently Richard could not speak out. His lady had been frightened and +fainted, and did not come to again. And Lord Hartledon waited to hear no +more. + +The people, standing about in the park here and there--for even this +slight accident had gathered its idlers together--seemed to look at Lord +Hartledon curiously as he passed them. Close to the house he met Ralph +the groom. The boy was crying. + +"'Twasn't no fault of anybody's, my lord; and there ain't any damage to +the ponies," he began, hastening to excuse himself. "The little lord only +slid off, and they stood as quiet as quiet. There wasn't no cause for my +lady's fear." + +"Is she fainting still?" + +"They say she's--dead." + +Lord Hartledon pressed onwards, and met Mr. Hillary at the hall-door. The +surgeon took his arm and drew him into an empty room. + +"Hillary! is it true?" + +"I'm afraid it is." + +Lord Hartledon felt his sight failing. For a moment he was a man groping +in the dark. Steadying himself against the wall, he learned the details. + +The child's pony had swerved. Ralph could not tell at what, and Lady +Hartledon did not survive to tell. She was looking at him at the time, +and saw him flung under the feet of the other pony, and she rose up in +the carriage with a scream, and then fell back into the seat again. Ralph +jumped out and picked up the child, who was not hurt at all; but when he +hastened to tell her this, he saw that she seemed to have no life in her. +One of the servants, Richard, happened to be going through the Park, +within sight; others soon came up; and whilst Lady Hartledon was being +driven home Richard ran for Mr. Hillary, and then sought his master, whom +he found at the Rectory. The surgeon had found her dead. + +"It must have been instantaneous," he observed in low tones as he +concluded these particulars. "One great consolation is, that she was +spared all suffering." + +"And its cause?" breathed Lord Hartledon. + +"The heart. I don't entertain the least doubt about it." + +"You said she had no heart disease. Others said it." + +"I said, if she had it, it was not developed. Sudden death from it is not +at all uncommon where disease has never been suspected." + +And this was all the conclusion come to in the case of Lady Hartledon. +Examination proved the surgeon's surmise to be correct; and in answer to +a certain question put by Lord Hartledon, he said the death was entirely +irrespective of any trouble, or care, or annoyance she might have had in +the past; irrespective even of any shock, except the shock at the moment +of death, caused by seeing the child thrown. That, and that alone, had +been the fatal cause. Lord Hartledon listened to this, and went away to +his lonely chamber and fell on his knees in devout thankfulness to Heaven +that he was so far innocent. + +"If she had not given way to the child!" he bitterly aspirated in the +first moments of sorrow. + +That the countess-dowager should come down post-haste and invade +Hartledon, was of course only natural; and Lord Hartledon strove not to +rebel against it. But she made herself so intensely and disagreeably +officious that his patience was sorely tried. Her first act was to insist +on a stately funeral. He had given orders for one plain and quiet in +every way; but she would have her wish carried out, and raved about the +house, abusing him for his meanness and want of respect to his dead wife. +For peace' sake, he was fain to give her her way; and the funeral was +made as costly as she pleased. Thomas Carr came down to it; and the +countess-dowager was barely civil to him. + +Her next care was to assume the entire management of the two children, +putting Lord Hartledon's authority over them at virtual, if not actual, +defiance. The death of her daughter was in truth a severe blow to the +dowager; not from love, for she really possessed no natural affection at +all, but from fear that she should lose her footing in the house which +was so desirable a refuge. As a preliminary step against this, she began +to endeavour to make it more firm and secure. Altogether she was +rendering Hartledon unbearable; and Val would often escape from it, +his boy in his hand, and take refuge with Mrs. Ashton. + +That Lord Hartledon's love for his children was intense there could be no +question about; but it was nevertheless of a peculiarly reticent nature. +He had rarely, if ever, been seen to caress them. The boy told tales of +how papa would kiss him, even weep over him, in solitude; but he would +not give him so much as an endearing name in the presence of others. Poor +Maude had called him all the pet names in a fond mother's vocabulary; +Lord Hartledon always called him Edward, and nothing more. + +A few evenings after the funeral had taken place, Mirrable, who had been +into Calne, was hurrying back in the twilight. As she passed Jabez Gum's +gate, the clerk's wife was standing at it, talking to Mrs. Jones. The two +were laughing: Mrs. Gum seemed in a less depressed state than usual, and +the other less snappish. + +"Is it you!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, as Mirrable stopped. "I was just +saying I'd not set eyes on you in your new mourning." + +"And laughing over it," returned Mirrable. + +"No!" was Mrs. Jones's retort. "I'd been telling of a trick I served +Jones, and Nance was laughing at that. Silk and crêpe! It's fine to be +you, Mrs. Mirrable!" + +"How's Jabez, Nancy?" asked Mirrable, passing over Mrs. Jones's +criticism. + +"He's gone to Garchester," replied Mrs. Gum, who was given to indirect +answers. "I thought I was never going to see you again, Mary." + +"You could not expect to see me whilst the house was in its recent +state," answered Mirrable. "We have been in a bustle, as you may +suppose." + +"You've not had many staying there." + +"Only Mr. Carr; and he left to-day. We've got the old countess-dowager +still." + +"And likely to have her, if all's true that's said," put in Mrs. Jones. + +Mirrable tacitly admitted the probability. Her private opinion was that +nothing short of a miracle could ever remove the Dowager Kirton from the +house again. Had any one told Mirrable, as she stood there, that her +ladyship would be leaving of her own accord that night, she had simply +said it was impossible. + +"Mary," cried the weak voice of poor timid Mrs. Gum, "how was it none of +the brothers came to the funeral? Jabez was wondering. She had a lot, +I've heard." + +"It was not convenient to them, I suppose," replied Mirrable. "The one +in the Isle of Wight had gone cruising in somebody's yacht, or he'd have +come with the dowager; and Lord Kirton telegraphed from Ireland that he +was prevented coming. I know nothing about the rest." + +"It was an awful death!" shivered Mrs. Gum. "And without cause too; for +the child was not hurt after all. Isn't my lord dreadfully cut up, Mary?" + +"I think so; he's very quiet and subdued. But he has seemed full of +sorrow for a long while, as if he had some dreadful care upon him. I +don't think he and his wife were very happy together," added Mirrable. +"My lord's likely to make Hartledon his chief residence now, I fancy, +for--My gracious! what's that?" + +A crash as if a whole battery of crockery had come down inside the +house. A moment of staring consternation ensued, and nervous Mrs. Gum +looked ready to faint. The two women disappeared indoors, and Mirrable +turned homewards at a brisk pace. But she was not to go on without an +interruption. Pike's head suddenly appeared above the hurdles, and he +began inquiring after her health. "Toothache gone?" asked he. + +"Yes," she said, answering straightforwardly in her surprise. "How did +you know I had toothache?" It was not the first time by several he had +thus accosted her; and to give her her due, she was always civil to him. +Perhaps she feared to be otherwise. + +"I heard of it. And so my Lord Hartledon's like a man with some dreadful +care upon him!" he went on. "What is the care?" + +"You have been eavesdropping!" she angrily exclaimed. + +"Not a bit of it. I was seated under the hedge with my pipe, and you +three women began talking. I didn't tell you to. Well, what's his +lordship's care?" + +"Just mind your own business, and his lordship will mind his," she +retorted. "You'll get interfered with in a way you won't like, Pike, one +of these days, unless you mend your manners." + +"A great care on him," nodded Pike to himself, looking after her, as she +walked off in her anger. "A great care! _I_ know. One of these fine days, +my lord, I may be asking you questions about it on my own score. I might +long before this, but for--" + +The sentence broke off abruptly, and ended with a growl at things in +general. Mr. Pike was evidently not in a genial mood. + +Mirrable reached home to find the countess-dowager in a state more easily +imagined than described. Some sprite, favourable to the peace of +Hartledon, had been writing confidentially from Ireland regarding Kirton +and his doings. That her eldest son was about to steal a march on her and +marry again seemed almost indisputably clear; and the miserable dowager, +dancing her war-dance and uttering reproaches, was repacking her boxes in +haste. Those boxes, which she had fondly hoped would never again leave +Hartledon, unless it might be for sojourns in Park Lane! She was going +back to Ireland to mount guard, and prevent any such escapade. Only in +September had she quitted him--and then had been as nearly ejected as a +son could eject his mother with any decency--and had taken the Isle of +Wight on her way to Hartledon. The son who lived in the Isle of Wight +had espoused a widow twice his own age, with eleven hundred a year, and a +house and carriage; so that he had a home: which the countess-dowager +sometimes remembered. + +Lord Hartledon was liberal. He gave her a handsome sum for her journey, +and a cheque besides; most devoutly praying that she might keep guard +over Kirton for ever. He escorted her to the station himself in a closed +carriage, an omnibus having gone before them with a mountain of boxes, +at which all Calne came out to stare. + +And the same week, confiding his children to the joint care of Mirrable +and their nurse--an efficient, kind, and judicious woman--Lord Hartledon +departed from home and England for a sojourn on the Continent, long or +short, as inclination might lead him, feeling as a bird released from +its cage. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +COMING HOME. + + +Some eighteen months after the event recorded in the last chapter, a +travelling carriage dashed up to a house in Park Lane one wet evening +in spring. It contained Lord Hartledon and his second wife. They were +expected, and the servants were assembled in the hall. + +Lord Hartledon led her into their midst, proudly, affectionately; as he +had never in his life led any other. Ah, you need not ask who she was; he +had contrived to win her, to win over Dr. Ashton; and his heart had at +length found rest. Her fair countenance, her thoughtful eyes and sweet +smile were turned on the servants, thanking them for their greeting. + +"All well, Hedges?" asked Lord Hartledon. + +"Quite well, my lord. But we are not alone." + +"No!" said Val, stopping in his progress. "Who's here?" + +"The Countess-Dowager of Kirton, my lord," replied Hedges, glancing at +Lady Hartledon in momentary hesitation. + +"Oh, indeed!" said Val, as if not enjoying the information. "Just see, +Hedges, that the things inside the carriage are all taken out. Don't come +up, Mrs. Ball; I will take Lady Hartledon to her rooms." + +It was the light-hearted Val of the old, old days; his face free from +care, his voice gay. He did not turn into any of the reception-rooms, but +led his wife at once to her chamber. It was nearly dinner-time, and he +knew she was tired. + +"Welcome home, my darling!" he whispered tenderly ere releasing her. "A +thousand welcomes to you, my dear, dear wife!" + +Tears rose to his eyes with the fervour of the wish. Heaven alone knew +what the past had been; the contrast between that time and this. + +"I will dress at once, Percival," she said, after a few moments' pause. +"I must see your children before dinner. Heaven helping me, I shall love +them and always act by them as if they were my own." + +"I am so sorry she is here, Anne--that terrible old woman. You heard +Hedges say Lady Kirton had arrived. Her visit is ill-timed." + +"I shall be glad to welcome her, Val." + +"It is more than I shall be," replied Val, as his wife's maid came into +the room, and he quitted it. "I'll bring the children to you, Anne." + +They had been married nearly five weeks. Anne had not seen the children +for several months. The little child, Edward, had shown symptoms of +delicacy, and for nearly a year the children had sojourned at the +seaside, having been brought to the town-house just before their father's +marriage. + +The nursery was empty, and Lord Hartledon went down. In the passage +outside the drawing-room was Hedges, evidently waiting for his master, +and with a budget to unfold. + +"When did she come, Hedges?" + +"My lord, it was only a few days after your marriage," replied Hedges. +"She arrived in the most outrageous tantrum--if I shall not offend your +lordship by saying so--and has been here ever since, completely upsetting +everything." + +"What was her tantrum about?" + +"On account of your having married again, my lord. She stood in the hall +for five minutes when she got here, saying the most audacious things +against your lordship and Miss Ashton--I mean my lady," corrected Hedges. + +"The old hag!" muttered Lord Hartledon. + +"I think she's insane at times, my lord; I really do. The fits of passion +she flies into are quite bad enough for insanity. The housekeeper told me +this morning she feared she would be capable of striking my lady, when +she first saw her. I'm afraid, too, she has been schooling the children." + +Lord Hartledon strode into the drawing-room. There, as large as +life--and a great deal larger than most lives--was the dowager-countess. +Fortunately she had not heard the arrival: in fact, she had dropped into +a doze whilst waiting for it; and she started up when Val entered. + +"How are you, ma'am?" asked he. "You have taken me by surprise." + +"Not half as much as your wicked letter took me," screamed the old +dowager. "Oh, you vile man! to marry again in this haste! You--you--I +can't find words that I should not be ashamed of; but Hamlet's mother, in +the play, was nothing to it." + +"It is some time since I read the play," returned Hartledon, controlling +his temper under an assumption of indifference. "If my memory serves me, +the 'funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage table.' +_My_ late wife has been dead eighteen months, Lady Kirton." + +"Eighteen months! for such a wife as Maude was to you!" raved the +dowager. "You ought to have mourned her eighteen years. Anybody else +would. I wish I had never let you have her." + +Lord Hartledon wished it likewise, with all his heart and soul; had +wished it in his wife's lifetime. + +"Lady Kirton, listen to me! Let us understand each other. Your visit here +is ill-timed; you ought to feel it so; nevertheless, if you stay it out, +you must observe good manners. I shall be compelled to request you to +terminate it if you fail one iota in the respect due to this house's +mistress, my beloved and honoured wife." + +"Your _beloved_ wife! Do you dare to say it to me?" + +"Ay; beloved, honoured and respected as no woman has ever been by me yet, +or ever will be again," he replied, speaking too plainly in his warmth. + +"What a false-hearted monster!" cried the dowager, shrilly, +apostrophizing the walls and the mirrors. "What then was Maude?" + +"Maude is gone, and I counsel you not to bring up her name to me," said +Val, sternly. "Your treachery forced Maude upon me; and let me tell you +now, Lady Kirton, if I have never told you before, that it wrought upon +her the most bitter wrong possible to be inflicted; which she lived to +learn. I was a vacillating simpleton, and you held me in your trammels. +The less we rake up old matters the better. Things have altered. I am +altered. The moral courage I once lacked does not fail me now; and I have +at least sufficient to hold my own against the world, and protect from +insult the lady I have made my wife. I beg your pardon if my words seem +harsh; they are true; and I am sorry you have forced them from me." + +She was standing still for a moment, staring at him, not altogether +certain of her ground. + +"Where are the children?" he asked. + +"Where you can't get at them," she rejoined hotly. "You have your beloved +wife; you don't want them." + +He rang the bell, more loudly than he need have done; but his usually +sweet temper was provoked. A footman came in. + +"Tell the nurse to bring down the children." + +"They are not at home, my lord." + +"Not at home! Surely they are not out in this rain!--and so late!" + +"They went out this afternoon, my lord: and have not come in, I believe." + +"There, that will do," tartly interposed the dowager. "You don't know +anything about it, and you may go." + +"Lady Kirton, where are the children?" + +"Where you can't get at them, I say," was Lady Kirton's response. "You +don't think I am going to suffer Maude's children to be domineered over +by a wretch of a step-mother--perhaps poisoned." + +He confronted her in his wrath, his eyes flashing. + +"Madam!" + +"Oh, you need not 'Madam' me. Maude's gone, and I shall act for her." + +"I ask you where my children are?" + +"I have sent them away; you may make the most of the information. And +when I have remained here as long as I choose, I shall take them with me, +and keep them, and bring them up. You can at once decide what sum you +will allow me for their education and maintenance: two maids, a tutor, +a governess, clothes, toys, and pocket-money. It must be a handsome sum, +paid quarterly in advance. And I mean to take a house in London for their +accommodation, and shall expect you to pay the rent." + +The coolness with which this was delivered turned Val's angry feelings +into amusement. He could not help laughing as he looked at her. + +"You cannot have my children, Lady Kirton." + +"They are Maude's children," snapped the dowager. + +"But I presume you admit that they are likewise mine. And I shall +certainly not part with them." + +"If you oppose me in this, I'll put them into Chancery," cried the +dowager. "I am their nearest relative, and have a right to them." + +"Nearest relative!" he repeated. "You must have lost your senses. I am +their father." + +"And have you lived to see thirty, and never learnt that men don't count +for anything in the bringing up of infants?" shrilly asked the dowager. +"If they had ten fathers, what's that to the Lord Chancellor? No more +than ten blocks of wood. What they want is a mother." + +"And I have now given them one." + +Without another word, with the red flush of emotion on his cheek, he went +up to his wife's room. She was alone then, dressed, and just coming out +of it. He put his arm round her to draw her in again, as he shortly +explained the annoyance their visitor was causing him. + +"You must stay here, my dearest, until I can go down with you," he added. +"She is in a vile humour, and I do not choose that you should encounter +her, unprotected by me." + +"But where are you going, Val?" + +"Well, I really think I shall get a policeman in, and frighten her into +saying what she has done with the children. She'll never tell unless +forced into it." + +Anne laughed, and Hartledon went down. He had in good truth a great mind +to see what the effect would be. The old woman was not a reasonable +being, and he felt disposed to show her very little consideration. As he +stood at the hall-door gazing forth, who should arrive but Thomas Carr. +Not altogether by accident; he had come up exploring, to see if there +were any signs of Val's return. + +"Ah! home at last, Hartledon!" + +"Carr, what happy wind blew you hither?" cried Val, as he grasped the +hands of his trusty friend. "You can terrify this woman with the thunders +of the law if she persists in kidnapping children that don't belong to +her." And he forthwith explained the state of affairs. + +Mr. Carr laughed. + +"She will not keep them away long. She is no fool, that countess-dowager. +It is a ruse, no doubt, to induce you to give them up to her." + +"Give them up to her, indeed!" Val was beginning, when Hedges advanced to +him. + +"Mrs. Ball says the children have only gone to Madame Tussaud's, my +lord," quoth he. "The nurse told her so when she went out." + +"I wish she was herself one of Madame Tussaud's figure-heads!" cried Val. +"Mr. Carr dines here, Hedges. Nonsense, Carr; you can't refuse. Never +mind your coat; Anne won't mind. I want you to make acquaintance with +her." + +"How did you contrive to win over Dr. Ashton?" asked Thomas Carr, as he +went in. + +"I put the matter before him in its true light," answered Val, "asking +him whether, if Anne forgave me, he would condemn us to live out our +lives apart from each other: or whether he would not act the part of a +good Christian, and give her to me, that I might strive to atone for the +past." + +"And he did so?" + +"After a great deal of trouble. There's no time to give you details. I +had a powerful advocate in Anne's heart. She had never forgotten me, for +all my misconduct." + +"You have been a lucky man at last, taking one thing with another." + +"You may well say so," was the answer, in tones of deep feeling. +"Moments come over me when I fear I am about to awake and find the +present a dream. I am only now beginning to _live_. The past few years +have been--you know what, Carr." + +He sent the barrister into the drawing room, went upstairs for Anne, and +brought her in on his arm. The dowager was in her chamber, attiring +herself in haste. + +"My wife, Carr," said Hartledon, with a loving emphasis on the word. +She was in an evening dress of white and black, not having yet put off +mourning for Mrs. Ashton, and looked very lovely; far more lovely in +Thomas Carr's eyes than Lady Maude, with her dark beauty, had ever +looked. She held out her hand to him with a frank smile. + +"I have heard so much of you, Mr. Carr, that we seem like old friends. +I am glad you have come to see me so soon." + +"My being here this evening is an accident, Lady Hartledon, as you may +see by my dress," he returned. "I ought rather to apologize for intruding +on you in the hour of your arrival." + +"Don't talk about intrusion," said Val. "You will never be an intruder in +my house--and Anne's smile is telling you the same--" + +"Who's that, pray?" + +The interruption came from the countess-dowager. There she stood, near +the door, in a yellow gown and green turban. Val drew himself up and +approached her, his wife still on his arm. "Madam," said he, in reply to +her question, "this is my wife, Lady Hartledon." + +The dowager's gauzes made acquaintance with the carpet in so elaborate +a curtsey as to savour of mockery, but her eyes were turned up to the +ceiling; not a word or look gave she to the young lady. + +"The other one, I meant," cried she, nodding towards Thomas Carr. + +"It is my friend Mr. Carr. You appear to have forgotten him." + +"I hope you are well, ma'am," said he, advancing towards her. + +Another curtsey, and the countess-dowager fanned herself, and sailed +towards the fireplace. + +Meanwhile the children came home in a cab from Madame Tussaud's, and +dinner was announced. Lord Hartledon was obliged to take down the +countess-dowager, resigning his wife to Mr. Carr. Dinner passed off +pretty well, the dowager being too fully occupied to be annoying; also +the good cheer caused her temper to thaw a little. Afterwards, the +children came in; Edward, a bold, free boy of five, who walked straight +up to his grandmother, saluting no one; and Maude, a timid, delicate +little child, who stood still in the middle of the carpet where the maid +placed her. + +The dowager was just then too busy to pay attention to the children, but +Anne held out her hand with a smile. Upon which the child drew up to her +father, and hid her face in his coat. + +He took her up, and carried her to his wife, placing her upon her knee. +"Maude," he whispered, "this is your mamma, and you must love her very +much, for she loves you." + +Anne's arms fondly encircled the child; but she began to struggle to get +down. + +"Bad manners, Maude," said her father. + +"She's afraid of her," spoke up the boy, who had the dark eyes and +beautiful features of his late mother. "We are afraid of bad people." + +The observation passed momentarily unnoticed, for Maude, whom Lady +Hartledon had been obliged to release, would not be pacified. But when +calmness ensued, Lord Hartledon turned to the boy, just then assisting +himself to some pineapple. + +"What did I hear you say about bad people, Edward?" + +"She," answered the boy, pointing towards Lady Hartledon. "She shan't +touch Maude. She's come here to beat us, and I'll kick if she touches +me." + +Lord Hartledon, with an unmistakable look at the countess-dowager, rose +from his seat in silence and rang the bell. There could be no correction +in the presence of the dowager; he and Anne must undo her work alone. +Carrying the little girl in one arm, he took the boy's hand, and met the +servant at the door. + +"Take these children back to the nursery." + +"I want some strawberries," the boy called out rebelliously. + +"Not to-day," said his father. "You know quite well that you have behaved +badly." + +His wife's face was painfully flushed. Mr. Carr was critically examining +the painted landscape on his plate; and the turban was enjoying some +fruit with perfect unconcern. Lord Hartledon stood an instant ere he +resumed his seat. + +"Anne," he said in a voice that trembled in spite of its displeased +tones, "allow me to beg your pardon, and I do it with shame that this +gratuitous insult should have been offered you in your own house. A day +or two will, I hope, put matters on their right footing; the poor +children, as you see, have been tutored." + +"Are you going to keep the port by you all night, Hartledon?" + +Need you ask from whom came the interruption? Mr. Carr passed it across +to her, leaving her to help herself; and Lord Hartledon sat down, biting +his delicate lips. + +When the dowager seemed to have finished, Anne rose. Mr. Carr rose too as +soon as they had retired. + +"I have an engagement, Hartledon, and am obliged to run away. Make my +adieu to your wife." + +"Carr, is it not a crying shame?--enough to incense any man?" + +"It is. The sooner you get rid of her the better." + +"That's easier said than done." + +When Lord Hartledon reached the drawing-room, the dowager was sleeping +comfortably. Looking about for his wife, he found her in the small room +Maude used to make exclusively her own, which was not lighted up. She was +standing at the window, and her tears were quietly falling. He drew her +face to his own. + +"My darling, don't let it grieve you! We shall soon right it all." + +"Oh, Percival, if the mischief should have gone too far!--if they should +never look upon me except as a step-mother! You don't know how sick and +troubled this has made me feel! I wanted to go to them in the nursery +when I came up, and did not dare! Perhaps the nurse has also been +prejudiced against me!" + +"Come up with me now, love," he whispered. + +They went silently upstairs, and found the children were then in bed and +asleep. They were tired with sight-seeing, the nurse said apologetically, +curtseying to her new mistress. + +The nurse withdrew, and they stood over the nursery fire, talking. Anne +could scarcely account for the extreme depression the event seemed to +have thrown upon her. Lord Hartledon quickly recovered his spirits, +vowing he should like to "serve out" the dowager. + +"I was thankful for one thing, Val; that you did not betray anger to +them, poor little things. It would have made it worse." + +"I was on the point of betraying something more than anger to Edward; but +the thought that I should be punishing him for another's fault checked +me. I wonder how we can get rid of her?" + +"We must strive to please her while she stays." + +"Please her!" he echoed. "Anne, my dear, that is stretching Christian +charity rather too far." + +Anne smiled. "I am a clergyman's daughter, you know, Val." + +"If she is wise, she'll abstain from offending you in my presence. I'm +not sure but I should lose command of myself, and send her off there and +then." + +"I don't fear that. She was quite civil when we came up from dinner, +and--" + +"As she generally is then. She takes her share of wine." + +"And asked me if I would excuse her falling into a doze, for she never +felt well without it." + +Anne was right. The cunning old woman changed her tactics, finding those +she had started would not answer. It has been remarked before, if you +remember, that she knew particularly well on which side her bread was +buttered. Nothing could exceed her graciousness from that evening. The +past scene might have been a dream, for all traces that remained of it. +Out of the house she was determined not to go in anger; it was too +desirable a refuge for that. And on the following day, upon hearing +Edward attempt some impudent speech to his new mother, she put him across +her knee, pulled off an old slipper she was wearing, and gave him a +whipping. Anne interposed, the boy roared; but the good woman had +her way. + +"Don't put yourself out, dear Lady Hartledon. There's nothing so good +for them as a wholesome whipping. I used to try it on my own children +at times." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +MR. PIKE ON THE WING. + + +The time went on. It may have been some twelve or thirteen months later +that Mr. Carr, sitting alone in his chambers, one evening, was surprised +by the entrance of his clerk--who possessed a latch-key as well as +himself. + +"Why, Taylor! what brings you here?" + +"I thought you would most likely be in, sir," replied the clerk. "Do +you remember some few years ago making inquiries about a man named +Gorton--and you could not find him?" + +"And never have found him," was Mr. Carr's comment. "Well?" + +"I have seen him this evening. He is back in London." + +Thomas Carr was not a man to be startlingly affected by any +communication; nevertheless he felt the importance of this, for Lord +Hartledon's sake. + +"I met him by chance, in a place where I sometimes go of an evening to +smoke a cigar, and learned his name by accident," continued Mr. Taylor. +"It's the same man that was at Kedge and Reck's, George Gorton; he +acknowledged it at once, quite readily." + +"And where has he been hiding himself?" + +"He has been in Australia for several years, he says; went there directly +after he left Kedge and Reck's that autumn." + +"Could you get him here, Taylor? I must see him. Tell me: what coloured +hair has he?" + +"Red, sir; and plenty of it. He says he's doing very well over there, +and has only come home for a short change. He does not seem to be in +concealment, and gave me his address when I asked him for it." + +According to Mr. Carr's wish, the man Gorton was brought to his chambers +the following morning by Taylor. To the barrister's surprise, a +well-dressed and really rather gentlemanly man entered. He had been +accustomed to picturing this Gorton as an Arab of London life. Casting +a keen glance at the red hair, he saw it was indisputably his own. + +A few rapid questions, which Gorton answered without the slightest demur, +and Mr. Carr leaned back in his chair, knowing that all the trouble he +had been at to find this man might have been spared: for he was not the +George Gordon they had suspected. But Mr. Carr was cautious, and betrayed +nothing. + +"I am sorry to have troubled you," he said. "When I inquired for you of +Kedge and Reck some years ago, it was under the impression that you were +some one else. You had left; and they did not know where to find you." + +"Yes, I had displeased them through arresting a wrong man, and other +things. I was down in the world then, and glad to do anything for a +living, even to serving writs." + +"You arrested the late Lord Hartledon for his brother," observed Mr. +Carr, with a careless smile. "I heard of it. I suppose you did not know +them apart." + +"I had never set eyes on either of them before," returned Gorton; +unconsciously confirming a point in the barrister's mind; which, however, +was already sufficiently obvious. + +"The man I wanted to find was named Gordon. I thought it just possible +that you might have changed your name temporarily: some of us finding it +convenient to do so on occasion." + +"I never changed mine in my life." + +"And if you had, I don't suppose you'd have changed it to one so +notorious as George Gordon." + +"Notorious?" + +"It was a George Gordon who was the hero of that piratical affair; that +mutiny on board the _Morning Star_." + +"Ah, to be sure. And an awful villain too! A man I met in Australia knew +Gordon well. But he tells a curious tale, though. He was a doctor, that +Gordon; had come last from somewhere in Kirkcudbrightshire." + +"He did," said Thomas Carr, quietly. "What curious tale does your friend +tell?" + +"Well, sir, he says--or rather said, for I've not seen him since my first +visit there--that George Gordon did not sail in the _Morning Star_. He +was killed in a drunken brawl the night before he ought to have sailed: +this man was present and saw him buried." + +"But there's pretty good proof that Gordon did sail. He was the +ringleader of the mutiny." + +"Well, yes. I don't know how it could have been. The man was positive. +I never knew Gordon; so that the affair did not interest me much." + +"You are doing well over there?" + +"Very well. I might retire now, if I chose to live in a small way, but I +mean to take a few more years of it, and go on to riches. Ah! and it was +just the turn of a pin whether I went over there that second time, or +whether I stopped in London to serve writs and starve." + +"Val was right," thought the barrister. + +On the following Saturday Mr. Carr took a return-ticket, and went down +to Hartledon: as he had done once or twice before in the old days. The +Hartledons had not come to town this season; did not intend to come: Anne +was too happy in the birth of her baby-boy to care for London; and Val +liked Hartledon better than any other place now. + +In one single respect the past year had failed to bring Anne +happiness--there was not entire confidence between herself and her +husband. He had something on his mind, and she could not fail to see that +he had. It was not that awful dread that seemed to possess him in his +first wife's time; nevertheless it was a weight which told more or less +on his spirits at all times. To Anne it appeared like remorse; yet she +might never have thought this, but for a word or two he let slip +occasionally. Was it connected with his children? She could almost have +fancied so: and yet in what manner could it be? His behaviour was +peculiar. He rather avoided them than not; but when with them was almost +passionately demonstrative, exactingly jealous that due attention should +be paid to them: and he seemed half afraid of caressing Anne's baby, lest +it should be thought he cared for it more than for the others. Altogether +Lady Hartledon puzzled her brains in vain: she could not make him out. +When she questioned him he would deny that there was anything the matter, +and said it was her fancy. + +They were at Hartledon alone: that is, without the countess-dowager. +That respected lady, though not actually domiciled with them during the +past twelve-month, had paid them three long visits. She was determined +to retain her right in the household--if right it could be called. The +dowager was by far too wary to do otherwise; and her behaviour to Anne +was exceedingly mild. But somehow she contrived to retain, or continually +renew, her evil influence over the children; though so insidiously, that +Lady Hartledon could never detect how or when it was done, or openly meet +it. Neither could she effectually counteract it. So surely as the dowager +came, so surely did the young boy and his sister become unruly with their +step-mother; ill-natured and rude. Lady Hartledon was kind, judicious, +and good; and things would so far be remedied during the crafty dowager's +absences, as to promise a complete cure; but whenever she returned the +evil broke out again. Anne was sorely perplexed. She did not like to deny +the children to their grandmother, who was more nearly related to them +than she herself; and she could only pray that time would bring about +some remedy. The dowager passed her time pretty equally between their +house and her son's. Lord Kirton had not married again, owing, perhaps, +to the watch and ward kept over him. But as soon as he started off to the +Continent, or elsewhere, where she could not follow him, then off she +came, without notice, to England and Lord Hartledon's. And Val, in his +good-nature, bore the infliction passively so long as she kept civil and +peaceable. + +In this also her husband's behaviour puzzled Anne. Disliking the dowager +beyond every other created being, he yet suffered her to indulge his +children; and if any little passage-at-arms supervened, took her part +rather than his wife's. + +"I cannot understand you, Val," Anne said to him one day, in tones of +pain. "You are not as you used to be." And his only answer was to strain +his wife to his bosom with an impassioned gesture of love. + +But these were only episodes in their generally happy life. Never more +happy, more free from any external influence, than when Thomas Carr +arrived there on this identical Saturday. He went in unexpectedly: and +Val's violet eyes, beautiful as ever, shone out their welcome; and Anne, +who happened to have her baby on her lap, blushed and smiled, as she held +it out for the barrister's inspection. + +"I dare not take it," said he. "You would be up in arms if it were +dropped. What is its name?" + +"Reginald." + +A little while, and she carried the child away, leaving them alone. Mr. +Carr declined refreshment for the present; and he and Val strolled out +arm-in-arm. + +"I have brought you an item of news, Hartledon. Gorton has turned up." + +"Not Gordon?" + +"No. And what's more, Gorton never was Gordon. You were right, and +I was wrong. I would have bet a ten-pound note--a great venture for a +barrister--that the men were the same; never, in point of fact, had a +doubt of it." + +"You would not listen to me," said Val. "I told you I was sure I could +not have failed to recognize Gordon, had he been the one who was down at +Calne with the writ." + +"But you acknowledged that it might have been he, nevertheless; that his +red hair might have been false; that you never had a distinct view of the +man's face; and that the only time you spoke to him was in the gloaming," +reiterated Thomas Carr. "Well, as it turns out, we might have spared half +our pains and anxiety, for Gorton was never any one but himself: an +innocent sheriff's officer, as far as you are concerned, who had never, +in his life set eyes on Val Elster until he went after him to Calne." + +"Didn't I say so?" reiterated Val. "Gordon would have known me too well +to arrest Edward for me." + +"But you admitted the general likeness between you and your brother; and +Gordon had not seen you for three years or more." + +"Yes; I admitted all you say, and perhaps was a little doubtful myself. +But I soon shook off the doubt, and of late years have been sure that +Gordon was really dead. It has been more than a conviction. I always said +there were no grounds for connecting the two together." + +"I had my grounds for doing it," remarked the barrister. "Gorton, it +seems, has been in Australia ever since. No wonder Green could not +unearth him in London. He's back again on a visit, looking like a +gentleman; and really I can't discover that there was ever anything +against him, except that he was down in the world. Taylor met him the +other day, and I had him brought to my chambers; and have told you the +result." + +"You do not now feel any doubt that Gordon's dead?" + +"None at all. Your friend, Gordon of Kircudbright, was the one who +embarked, or ought to have embarked, on the _Morning Star_, homeward +bound," said Mr. Carr. And he forthwith told Lord Hartledon what the man +had said. + +A silence ensued. Lord Hartledon was in deep and evidently not pleasant +thought; and the barrister stole a glance at him. + +"Hartledon, take comfort. I am as cautious by nature as I believe it is +possible for any one to be; and I am sure the man is dead, and can never +rise up to trouble you." + +"I have been sure of that for years," replied Hartledon quietly. "I have +just said so." + +"Then what is disturbing you?" + +"Oh, Carr, how can you ask it?" came the rejoinder. "What is it lies on +my mind day and night; is wearing me out before my time? Discovery may be +avoided; but when I look at the children--at the boy especially--it would +have turned some men mad," he more quietly added, passing his hand across +his brow. "As long as he lives, I cannot have rest from pain. The sins of +the fathers--" + +"Yes, yes," interposed Mr. Carr, hastily. "Still the case is light, +compared with what we once dreaded." + +"Light for me, heavy for him." + +Mr. Carr remained with them until the Monday: he then went back to London +and work; and time glided on again. An event occurred the following +winter which shall be related at once; more especially as nothing of +moment took place in those intervening months needing special record. + +The man Pike, who still occupied his shed undisturbed, had been ailing +for some time. An attack of rheumatic fever in the summer had left him +little better than a cripple. He crawled abroad still when he was able, +and _would_ do so, in spite of what Mr. Hillary said; would lie about the +damp ground in a lawless, gipsying sort of manner; but by the time winter +came all that was over, and Mr. Pike's career, as foretold by the +surgeon, was drawing rapidly to a close. Mrs. Gum was his good Samaritan, +as she had been in the fever some years before, going in and out and +attending to him; and in a reasonable way Pike wanted for nothing. + +"How long can I last?" he abruptly asked the doctor one morning. "Needn't +fear to say. _She_'s the only one that will take on; I shan't." + +He alluded to Mrs. Gum, who had just gone out. The surgeon considered. + +"Two or three days." + +"As much as that?" + +"I think so." + +"Oh!" said Pike. "When it comes to the last day I should like to see Lord +Hartledon." + +"Why the last day?" + +The man's pinched features broke into a smile; pleasant and fair features +once, with a gentle look upon them. The black wig and whiskers lay near +him; but the real hair, light and scanty, was pushed back from the damp +brow. + +"No use, then, to think of giving me up: no time left for it." + +"I question if Lord Hartledon would give you up were you in rude health. +I'm sure he would not," added Mr. Hillary, endorsing his opinion rather +emphatically. "If ever there was a kindly nature in the world, it's his. +What do you want with him?" + +"I should like to say a word to him in private," responded Pike. + +"Then you'd better not wait to say it. I'll tell him of your wish. It's +all safe. Why, Pike, if the police themselves came they wouldn't trouble +to touch you now." + +"I shouldn't much care if they did," said the man. "_I_ haven't cared for +a long while; but there were the others, you know." + +"Yes," said Mr. Hillary. + +"Look here," said Pike; "no need to tell him particulars; leave them +till I'm gone. I don't know that I'd like _him_ to look me in the face, +knowing them." + +"As you will," said Mr. Hillary, falling in with the wish more readily +than he might have done for anyone but a dying man. + +He had patients out of Calne, beyond Hartledon, and called in returning. +It was a snowy day; and as the surgeon was winding towards the house, +past the lodge, with a quick step, he saw a white figure marching across +the park. It was Lord Hartledon. He had been caught in the storm, and +came up laughing. + +"Umbrellas are at a premium," observed Mr. Hillary, with the freedom long +intimacy had sanctioned. + +"It didn't snow when I came out," said Hartledon, shaking himself, and +making light of the matter. "Were you coming to honour me with a morning +call?" + +"I was and I wasn't," returned the surgeon. "I've no time for morning +calls, unless they are professional ones; but I wanted to say a word to +you. Have you a mind for a further walk in the snow?" + +"As far as you like." + +"There's a patient of mine drawing very near the time when doctors can do +no more for him. He has expressed a wish to see you, and I undertook to +convey the request." + +"I'll go, of course," said Val, all his kindliness on the alert. "Who is +it?" + +"A black sheep," answered the surgeon. "I don't know whether that will +make any difference?" + +"It ought not," said Val rather warmly. "Black sheep have more need of +help than white ones, when it comes to the last. I suppose it's a poacher +wanting to clear his conscience." + +"It's Pike," said Hillary. + +"Pike! What can he want with me? Is he no better?" + +"He'll never be better in this world; and to speak the truth, I think +it's time he left it. He'll be happier, poor fellow, let's hope, in +another than he has been in this. Has it ever struck you, Lord Hartledon, +that there was something strange about Pike, and his manner of coming +here?" + +"Very strange indeed." + +"Well, Pike is not Pike, but another man--which I suppose you will say is +Irish. But that he is so ill, and it would not be worth while for the law +to take him, he might be in mortal fear of your seeing him, lest you +betrayed him. He wanted you not to be informed until the last hour. I +told him there was no fear." + +"I would not betray any living man, whatever his crime, for the whole +world," returned Lord Hartledon; his voice so earnest as to amount to +pain. And the surgeon looked at him; but there rose up in his remembrance +how _he_ had been avoiding betrayal for years. "Who is he?" + +"Willy Gum." + +Lord Hartledon turned his head sharply under cover of the surgeon's +umbrella, for they were walking along together. A thought crossed him +that the words might be a jest. + +"Yes, Pike is Willy Gum," continued Mr. Hillary. "And there you have the +explanation of the poor mother's nervous terrors. I do pity her. The +clerk has taken it more philosophically, and seemed only to care lest the +fact should become known. Ah, poor thing! what a life hers has been! Her +fears of the wild neighbour, her basins for cats, are all explained now. +She dreaded lest Calne should suspect that she occasionally stole into +the shed under cover of the night with the basins containing food for its +inmate. There the man has lived--if you can call such an existence +living; Willy Gum, concealed by his borrowed black hair and whiskers. But +that he was only a boy when he went away, Calne would have recognized him +in spite of them." + +"And he is not a poacher and a snarer, and I don't know what all, leading +a lawless life, and thieving for his living?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon, +the first question that rose to the surface, amidst the many that were +struggling in his mind. + +"I don't believe the man has touched the worth of a pin belonging to +any one since he came here, even on your preserves. People took up the +notion from his wild appearance, and because he had no ostensible means +of living. It would not have done to let them know that he had his +supplies--sometimes money, sometimes food--from respectable clerk Gum's." + +"But why should he be in concealment at all? That bank affair was made +all right at the time." + +"There are other things he feared, it seems. I've not time to enter into +details now; you'll know them later. There he is--Pike: and there he'll +die--Pike always." + +"How long have you known it?" + +"Since that fever he caught from the Rectory some years ago. I recollect +your telling me not to let him want for anything;" and Lord Hartledon +winced at the remembrance brought before him, as he always did wince at +the unhappy past. "I never shall forget it. I went in, thinking Pike was +ill, and that he, wild and disreputable though he had the character of +being, might want physic as well as his neighbours. Instead of the +black-haired bear I expected to see, there lay a young, light, delicate +fellow, with a white brow, and cheeks pink with fever. The features +seemed familiar to me; little by little recognition came to me, and I +saw it was Willy Gum, whom every one had been mourning as dead. He said +a pleading word or two, that I would keep his secret, and not give him up +to justice. I did not understand what there was to give him up for then. +However, I promised. He was too ill to say much; and I went to the next +door, and put it to Gum's wife that she should go and nurse Pike for +humanity's sake. Of course it was what she wanted to do. Poor thing! she +fell on her knees later, beseeching me not to betray him." + +"And you have kept counsel all this time?" + +"Yes," said the surgeon, laconically. "Would your lordship have done +otherwise, even though it had been a question of hanging?" + +"_I!_ I wouldn't give a man a month at the treadmill if I could help it. +One gets into offences so easily," he dreamily added. + +They crossed over the waste land, and Mr. Hillary opened the door of +the shed with a pass-key. A lock had been put on when Pike was lying in +rheumatic fever, lest intruders might enter unawares, and see him without +his disguise. + +"Pike, I have brought you my lord. He won't betray you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE SHED RAZED. + + +Closing the door upon them, the surgeon went off on other business, and +Lord Hartledon entered and bent over the bed; a more comfortable bed than +it once had been. It was the Willy Gum of other days; the boy he had +played with when they were boys together. White, wan, wasted, with the +dying hectic on his cheek, the glitter already in his eye, he lay there; +and Val's eyelashes shone as he took the worn hand. + +"I am so sorry, Willy. I had no suspicion it was you. Why did you not +confide in me?" + +The invalid shook his head. "There might have been danger in it." + +"Never from me," was the emphatic answer. + +"Ah, my lord, you don't know. I haven't dared to make myself known to a +soul. Mr. Hillary found it out, and I couldn't help myself." + +Lord Hartledon glanced round at the strange place: the rafters, the rude +walls. A fire was burning on the hearth, and the appliances brought to +bear were more comfortable than might have been imagined; but still-- + +"Surely you will allow yourself to be removed to a better place, Willy?" +he said. + +"Call me Pike," came the feverish interruption. "Never that other name +again, my lord; I've done with it for ever. As to a better place--I shall +have that soon enough." + +"You wanted to say something to me, Mr. Hillary said." + +"I've wanted to say it some time now, and to beg your lordship's pardon. +It's about the late earl's death." + +"My brother's?" + +"Yes. I was on the wrong scent a long time. And I can tell you what +nobody else will." + +Lord Hartledon lifted his head quickly; thoughts were crowding +impulsively into his mind, and he spoke in the moment's haste. + +"Surely you had not anything to do with that!" + +"No; but I thought your lordship had." + +"What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, quietly. + +"It's for my foolish and wicked and mistaken thought that I would crave +pardon before I go. I thought your lordship had killed the late lord, +either by accident or maliciously." + +"You must be dreaming, Pike!" + +"No; but I was no better than dreaming then. I had been living amidst +lawless scenes, over the seas and on the seas, where a life's not of much +account, and the fancy was easy enough. I happened to overhear a quarrel +between you and the earl just before his death; I saw you going towards +the spot at the time the accident happened, as you may remember--" + +"I did not go so far," interrupted Hartledon, wondering still whether +this might not be the wanderings of a dying man. "I turned back into the +trees at once, and walked slowly home. Many a time have I wished I had +gone on!" + +"Yes, yes; I was on the wrong scent. And there was that blow on his +temple to keep up the error, which I know now must have been done against +the estrade. I did suspect at the time, and your lordship will perhaps +not forgive me for it. I let drop a word that I suspected something +before that man Gorton, and he asked me what I meant; and I explained +it away, and said I was chaffing him. And I have been all this time, up +to a few weeks ago, learning the true particulars of how his lordship +died." + +Lord Hartledon decided that the man's mind was undoubtedly wandering. + +But Pike was not wandering. And he told the story of the boy Ripper +having been locked up in the mill. Mr. Ripper was almost a match for Pike +himself in deceit; and Pike had only learned the facts by dint of long +patience and perseverance and many threats. The boy had seen the whole +accident; had watched it from the window where he was enclosed, unable to +get out, unless he had torn away the grating. Lord Hartledon had lost all +command of the little skiff, his arm being utterly disabled; and it came +drifting down towards the mill, and struck against the estrade. The skiff +righted itself at once, but not its owner: there was a slight struggle, a +few cries, and he lay motionless, drifting later to the place where he +was found. Mr. Ripper's opinion was that he had lost his senses with the +blow on the temple, and fell an easy prey to death. Had that gentleman +only sacrificed the grating and his own reputation, he might have saved +him easily; and that fact had since been upon his conscience, making him +fear all sorts of things, not the least of which was that he might be +hanged as a murderer. + +This story he had told Pike at the time, with one reserve--he persisted +that he had not _seen_, only heard. Pike saw that the boy was still +not telling the whole truth, and suspected he was screening Lord +Hartledon--he who now stood before him. Mr. Ripper's logic tended to the +belief that he could not be punished if he stuck to the avowal of having +seen nothing. He had only heard the cries; and when Pike asked if they +were cries as if he were being assaulted, the boy evasively answered +"happen they were." Another little item he suppressed: that he found the +purse at the bottom of the skiff, after he got out of the mill, and +appropriated it to himself; and when he had fairly done that, he grew +more afraid of having done it than of all the rest. The money he +secreted, using it when he dared, a sixpence at a time; the case, with +its papers, he buried in the spot where his master afterwards found it. +With all this upon the young man's conscience, no wonder he was a little +confused and contradictory in his statements to Pike: no wonder he +fancied the ghost of the man he could have saved and did not, might now +and then be hovering about him. Pike learned the real truth at last; and +a compunction had come over him, now that he was dying, for having +doubted Lord Hartledon. + +"My lord, I can only ask you to forgive me. I ought to have known you +better. But things seemed to corroborate it so: I've heard people say the +new lord was as a man who had some great care upon him. Oh, I was a +fool!" + +"At any rate it was not _that_ care, Pike; I would have saved my +brother's life with my own, had I been at hand to do it. As to +Ripper--I shall never bear to look upon him again." + +"He's gone away," said Pike. + +"Where has he gone?" + +"The miller turned him off for idleness, and he's gone away, nobody knows +where, to get work: I don't suppose he'll ever come back again. This is +the real truth of the matter as it occurred, my lord; and there's no more +behind it. Ripper has now told all he knows, just as fully as if he had +been put to torture." + +Lord Hartledon remained with Pike some time longer, soothing the man as +much as it was in his power and kindly nature to soothe. He whispered a +word of the clergyman, Dr. Ashton. + +"Father says he shall bring him to-night," was the answer. "It's all a +farce." + +"I am sorry to hear you say that," returned Lord Hartledon, gravely. + +"If I had never said a worse thing than that, my lord, I shouldn't hurt. +Unless the accounts are made up beforehand, parsons can't avail much at +the twelfth hour. Mother's lessons to me when a child, and her reading +the Bible as she sits here in the night, are worth more than Dr. Ashton +could do. But for those old lessons' having come home to me now, I might +not have cared to ask your forgiveness. Dr. Ashton! what is he? For an +awful sinner--and it's what I've been--there's only Christ. At times I +think I've been too bad even for Him. I've only my sins to take to Him: +never were worse in this world." + +Lord Hartledon went out rather bewildered with the occurrences of the +morning. Thinking it might be only kind to step into the clerk's, he +crossed the stile and went in without ceremony by the open back-door. +Mrs. Gum was alone in the kitchen, crying bitterly. She dried her eyes +in confusion, as she curtsied to her visitor. + +"I know all," he interrupted, in low, considerate tones, to the poor +suffering woman. "I have been to see him. Never mind explanations: let +us think what we can best do to lighten his last hours." + +Mrs. Gum burst into deeper tears. It was a relief, no doubt: but she +wondered how much Lord Hartledon knew. + +"I say that he ought to be got away from that place, Mrs. Gum. It's not +fit for a man to die in. You might have him here. Calne! Surely my +protection will sufficiently screen him against tattling Calne!" + +She shook her head, saying it was of no use talking to Willy about +removal; he wouldn't have it; and she thought herself it might be better +not. Jabez, too; if this ever came out in Calne, it would just kill him; +his lordship knew what he was, and how he had cared for appearances all +his life. No; it would not be for many more hours now, and Willy must die +in the shed where he had lived. + +Lord Hartledon sat down on the ironing-board, the white table underneath +the window, in the old familiar manner of former days; many and many a +time had he perched himself there to talk to her when he was young Val +Elster. + +"Only fancy what my life has been, my lord," she said. "People have +called me nervous and timid; but look at the cause I've had! I was just +beginning to get over the grief for his death, when he came here; and to +the last hour of my life I shan't get the night out of my mind! I and +Jabez were together in this very kitchen. I had come in to wash up the +tea-things, and Jabez followed me. It was a cold, dark evening, and the +parlour fire had got low. By token, my lord, we were talking of you; you +had just gone away to be an ambassador, or something, and then we spoke +of the wild, strange, black man who had crept into the shed; and Jabez, +I remember, said he should acquaint Mr. Marris, if the fellow did not +take himself off. I had seen him that very evening, at dusk, for the +first time, when his great black face rose up against mine, nearly +frightening me to death. Jabez was angry at such a man's being there, and +said he should go up to Hartledon in the morning and see the steward. +Just then there came a tap at the kitchen door, and Jabez went to it. +It was the man; he had watched the servant out, and knew we were alone; +and he came into the kitchen, and asked if we did not know him. Jabez +did; he had seen Willy later than I had, and he recognized him; and the +man took off his black hair and great black whiskers, and I saw it was +Willy, and nearly fainted dead away." + +There was a pause. Lord Hartledon did not speak, and she resumed, after a +little indulgence in her grief. + +"And since then all our aim has been to hide the truth, to screen him, +and keep up the tale that we were afraid of the wild man. How it has +been done I know not: but I do know that it has nearly killed me. What +a night it was! When Jabez heard his story and forced him to answer all +questions, I thought he would have given Willy up to the law there and +then. My lord, we have just lived since with a sword over our heads!" + +Lord Hartledon remembered the sword that had been over his own head, and +sympathized with them from the depths of his heart. + +"Tell me all," he said. "You are quite safe with me, Mrs. Gum." + +"I don't know that there's much more to tell," she sighed. "We took the +best precautions we could, in a quiet way, having the holes in the +shutters filled up, and new locks put on the doors, lest people might +look in or step in, while he sat here of a night, which he took to do. +Jabez didn't like it, but I'm afraid I encouraged it. It was so lonely +for him, that shed, and so unhealthy! We sent away the regular servant, +and engaged one by day, so as to have the house to ourselves at night. If +a knock came to the door, Willy would slip out to the wood-house before +we opened it, lest it might be anybody coming in. He did not come in +every night--two or three times a-week; and it never was pleasant; for +Jabez would hardly open his mouth, unless it was to reproach him. Heaven +alone knows what I've had to bear!" + +"But, Mrs. Gum, I cannot understand. Why could not Willy have declared +himself openly to the world?" + +It was evidently a most painful question. Her eyes fell; the crimson +of shame flushed into her cheeks; and he felt sorry to have asked it. + +"Spare me, my lord, for I _cannot_ tell you. Perhaps Jabez will: or Mr. +Hillary; he knows. It doesn't much matter, now death's so near; but I +think it would kill me to have to tell it." + +"And no one except the doctor has ever known that it was Willy?" + +"One more, my lord: Mirrable. We told her at once. I have had to hear all +sorts of cruel things said of him," continued Mrs. Gum. "That he thieved +and poached, and did I know not what; and we could only encourage the +fancy, for it put people off the truth as to how he really lived." + +"Amidst other things, they said, I believe, that he was out with the +poachers the night my brother George was shot!" + +"And that night, my lord, he sat over this kitchen fire, and never +stirred from it. He was ill: it was rheumatism, caught in Australia, +that took such a hold upon him; and I had him here by the fire till near +daylight in the morning, so as to keep him out of the damp shed. What +with fearing one thing and another, I grew into a state of perpetual +terror." + +"Then you will not have him in here now," said Lord Hartledon, rising. + +"I cannot," she said, her tears falling silently. + +"Well, Mrs. Gum, I came in just to say a word of true sympathy. You have +it heartily, and my services also, if necessary. Tell Jabez so." + +He quitted the house by the front-door, as if he had been honouring the +clerk's wife with a morning-call, should any curious person happen to be +passing, and went across through the snow to the surgeon's. Mr. Hillary, +an old bachelor, was at his early dinner, and Lord Hartledon sat down and +talked to him. + +"It's only rump steak; but few cooks can beat mine, and it's very good. +Won't your lordship take a mouthful by way of luncheon?" + +"My curiosity is too strong for luncheon just now," said Val. "I have +come over to know the rights and wrongs of this story. What has Willy Gum +been doing in the past years that it cannot be told?" + +"I am not sure that it would be safe to say while he's living." + +"Not safe! with me! Was it safe with you?" + +"But I don't consider myself obliged to give up to justice any poor +criminal who comes in my way," said the surgeon; and Val felt a little +vexed, although he saw that he was joking. + +"Come, Hillary!" + +"Well, then, Willy Gum was coming home in the _Morning Star_; and a +mutiny broke out--mutiny and murder, and everything else that's bad; and +one George Gordon was the ringleader." + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Willy Gum was George Gordon." + +"What!" exclaimed Hartledon, not knowing how to accept the words. "How +could he be George Gordon?" + +"Because the real George Gordon never sailed at all; and this fellow Gum +went on board in his name, calling himself Gordon." + +Lord Hartledon leaned back in his chair and listened to the explanation. +A very simple one, after all. Gum, one of the wildest and most careless +characters possible when in Australia, gambled away, before sailing, +the money he had acquired. Accident made him acquainted with George +Gordon, also going home in the same ship and with money. Gordon was +killed the night before sailing--(Mr. Carr had well described it as +a drunken brawl)--killed accidentally. Gum was present; he saw his +opportunity, went on board as Gordon, and claimed the luggage--some +of it gold--already on board. How the mutiny broke out was less clear; +but one of the other passengers knew Gum, and threatened to expose him; +and perhaps this led to it. Gum, at any rate, was the ringleader, and +this passenger was one of the first killed. Gum--Gordon as he was +called--contrived to escape in the open boat, and found his way to land; +thence, disguised, to England and to Calne; and at Calne he had since +lived, with the price offered for George Gordon on his head. + +It was a strange and awful story: and Lord Hartledon felt a shiver run +through him as he listened. In truth, that shed was the safest and +fittest place for him to die in! + +As die he did ere the third day was over. And was buried as Pike, the +wild man, without a mourner. Clerk Gum stood over the grave in his +official capacity; and Dr. Ashton, who had visited the sick man, himself +read the service, which caused some wonder in Calne. + +And the following week Lord Hartledon caused the shed to be cleared +away, and the waste land ploughed; saying he would have no more tramps +encamping next door to Mr. and Mrs. Gum. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE DOWAGER'S ALARM. + + +Again the years went on, bringing not altogether comfort to the house of +Hartledon. As Anne's children were born--there were three now--a sort of +jealous rivalry seemed to arise between them and the two elder children; +and this in spite of Anne's efforts to the contrary. The moving spring +was the countess-dowager, who in secret excited the elder children +against their little brothers and sister; but so craftily that Anne could +produce nothing tangible to remonstrate against. Things would grow +tolerably smooth during the old woman's absences; but she took good care +not to make those absences lengthened, and then all the ill-nature and +rebellion reigned triumphant. + +Once only Anne spoke of this, and that was to her father. She hinted at +the state of things, and asked his advice. Why did not Val interpose his +authority, and forbid the dowager the house, if she could not keep +herself from making mischief in it, sensibly asked the Rector. But Anne +said neither she nor Val liked to do this. And then the Rector fancied +there was some constraint in his daughter's voice, and she was not +telling him the whole case unreservedly. He inquired no further, only +gave her the best advice in his power: to be watchful, and counteract the +dowager's influence, as far as she could; and trust to time; doing her +own duty religiously by the children. + +What Anne had not mentioned to Dr. Ashton was her husband's conduct in +the matter. In that one respect she could read him no better than of old. +Devoted to her as he was, as she knew him to be, in the children's petty +disputes he invariably took the part of his first wife's--to the glowing +satisfaction of the countess-dowager. No matter how glaringly wrong they +might be, how tyrannical, Hartledon screened the elder, and--to use the +expression of the nurses--snubbed the younger. Kind and good though Lady +Hartledon was, she felt it acutely; and, to say the truth, was sorely +puzzled and perplexed. + +Lord Elster was an ailing child, and Mr. Brook, the apothecary, was +always in attendance when they were in London. Lady Hartledon thought the +boy's health might have been better left more to nature, but she would +not have said so for the world. The dowager, on the contrary, would have +preferred that half the metropolitan faculty should see him daily. She +had a jealous dread of anything happening to the boy, and Anne's son +becoming the heir. + +Lord Hartledon was a busy man now, and had a place in the +Government--though not as yet in the Cabinet. Whatever his secret care +might have been, it was now passive; he was a general favourite, and +courted in society. He was still young; the face as genial, the manners +as free, the dark-blue eyes as kindly as of yore; eminently attractive in +earlier days, he was so still; and his love for his wife amounted to a +passion. + +At the close of a sharp winter, when they had come up to town in January, +that Lord Hartledon might be at his post, and the countess-dowager was +inflicting upon them one of her long visits, it happened that Lord Elster +seemed very poorly. Mr. Brook was called in, and said he would send a +powder. He was called in so often to the boy as to take it quite as a +matter of course; and, truth to say, thought the present indisposition +nothing but a slight cold. + +Late in the evening the two boys happened to be alone in the nursery, +the nurse being temporarily absent from it. Edward was now a tall, +slender, handsome boy in knickerbockers; Reginald a timid little fellow, +several years younger--rendered timid by Edward's perpetual tyranny, +which he might not resent. Edward was quiet enough this evening; he felt +ill and shivery, and sat close to the fire. Casting his eyes upwards, he +espied Mr. Brook's powder on the mantelpiece, with the stereotyped +direction--"To be taken at bedtime." It was lying close to the jam-pot, +which the head-nurse had put ready. Of course he had the greatest +possible horror of medicine, and his busy thoughts began to run upon how +he might avoid that detestable powder. The little fellow was sitting on +the carpet playing with his bricks. Edward turned his eyes on his +brother, and a bright thought occurred to him. + +"Regy," said he, taking down the pot, "come here. Look at this jam: isn't +it nice? It's raspberry and currant." + +The child left his bricks to bend over the tempting compound. + +"I'll give it you every bit to eat before nurse comes back," continued +the boy, "if you'll eat this first." + +Reginald cast a look upon the powder his brother exhibited. "What is it?" +he lisped; "something good?" + +"Delicious. It's just come in from the sweet-stuff shop. Open your +mouth--wide." + +Reginald did as he was bid: opened his mouth to its utmost width, and the +boy shot in the powder. + +It happened to be a preparation of that nauseous drug familiarly known +as "Dover's powder." The child found it so, and set up a succession of +shrieks, which aroused the house. The nurse rushed in; and Lord and Lady +Hartledon, both of whom were dressing for dinner, appeared on the scene. +There stood Reginald, coughing, choking, and roaring; and there sat +the culprit, equably devouring the jam. With time and difficulty the +facts were elicited from the younger child, and the elder scorned to deny +them. + +"What a wicked, greedy Turk you must be!" ejaculated the nurse, who was +often in hot water with the elder boy. + +"But Reginald need not have screamed so," testily interposed Lord +Hartledon. "I thought one of them must be on fire. You naughty child, +why did you scream?" he continued, giving Reginald a slight tap on the +ear. + +"Any child would scream at being so taken by surprise," said Lady +Hartledon. "It is Edward who is in fault, not Reginald; and it is he who +deserves punishment." + +"And he should have it, if he were my son," boldly declared the nurse, as +she picked up the unhappy Reginald. "A great greedy boy, to swallow down +every bit of the jam, and never give his brother a taste, after poisoning +him with that nasty powder!" + +Edward rose, and gave the nurse a look of scorn. "The powder's good +enough for him: he is nothing but a young brat, and I am Lord Elster." + +Lady Hartledon felt provoked. "What is that you say, Edward?" she asked, +laying her hand upon his shoulder in reproval. + +"Let me alone, mamma. He'll never be anything but Regy Elster. _I_ shall +be Lord Hartledon, and jam's proper for me, and it's fair I should put +upon him." + +The nurse flounced off with Reginald, and Lady Hartledon turned to her +husband. "Is this to be suffered? Will you allow it to pass without +correction?" + +"He means nothing," said Val. "Do you, Edward, my boy?" + +"Yes, I do; I mean what I say. I shall stand up for myself and Maude." + +Hartledon made no remonstrance: only drew the boy to him, with a hasty +gesture, as though he would shield him from anger and the world. + +Anne, hurt almost to tears, quitted the room. But she had scarcely +reached her own when she remembered that she had left a diamond brooch in +the nursery, which she had just been about to put into her dress when +alarmed by the cries. She went back for it, and stood almost confounded +by what she saw. Lord Hartledon, sitting down, had clasped his boy in his +arms, and was sobbing over him; emotion such as man rarely betrays. + +"Papa, Regy and the other two are not going to put me and Maude out of +our places, are they? They can't, you know. We come first." + +"Yes, yes, my boy; no one shall put you out," was the answer, as he +pressed passionate kisses on the boy's face. "I will stand by you for +ever." + +Very judicious indeed! the once sensible man seemed to ignore the evident +fact that the boy had been tutored. Lady Hartledon, a fear creeping over +her, she knew not of what, left her brooch where it was, and stole back +to her dressing-room. + +Presently Val came in, all traces of emotion removed from his features. +Lady Hartledon had dismissed her maid, and stood leaning against the arm +of the sofa, indulging in bitter rumination. + +"Silly children!" cried he; "it's hard work to manage them. And Edward +has lost his pow--" + +He broke off; stopped by the look of angry reproach from his wife, cast +on him for the first time in their married life. He took her hand and +bent down to her: fervent love, if ever she read it, in his eyes and +tones. + +"Forgive me, Anne; you are feeling this." + +"Why do you throw these slights on my children? Why are you not more +just?" + +"I do not intend to slight our children, Anne, Heaven knows. But I--I +cannot punish Edward." + +"Why did you ever make me your wife?" sighed Lady Hartledon, drawing her +hand away. + +His poor assumption of unconcern was leaving him quickly; his face was +changing to one of bitter sorrow. + +"When I married you," she resumed, "I had reason to hope that should +children be born to us, you would love them equally with your first; +I had a right to hope it. What have I done that--" + +"Stay, Anne! I can bear anything better than reproach from you." + +"What have I and my children done to you, I was about to ask, that you +take this aversion to them? lavishing all your love on the others and +upon them only injustice?" + +Val bent down, agitation in his face and voice. + +"Hush, Anne! you don't know. The danger is that I should love your +children better, far better than Maude's. It might be so if I did not +guard against it." + +"I cannot understand you," she exclaimed. + +"Unfortunately, I understand myself only too well. I have a heavy burden +to bear; do not you--my best and dearest--increase it." + +She looked at him keenly; laid her hands upon him, tears gathering in her +eyes. "Tell me what the burden is; tell me, Val! Let me share it." + +But Val drew in again at once, alarmed at the request: and contradicted +himself in the most absurd manner. + +"There's nothing to share, Anne; nothing to tell." + +Certainly this change was not propitiatory. Lady Hartledon, chilled and +mortified, disdained to pursue the theme. Drawing herself up, she turned +to go down to dinner, remarking that he might at least treat the children +with more _apparent_ justice. + +"I am just; at least, I wish to be just," he broke forth in impassioned +tones. "But I cannot be severe with Edward and Maude." + +Another powder was procured, and, amidst much fighting and resistance, +was administered. Lady Hartledon was in the boy's room the first thing +in the morning. One grand quality in her was, that she never visited +her vexation on the children; and Edward, in spite of his unamiable +behaviour, did at heart love her, whilst he despised his grandmother; one +of his sources of amusement being to take off that estimable old lady's +peculiarities behind her back, and send the servants into convulsions. + +"You look very hot, Edward," exclaimed Lady Hartledon, as she kissed him. +"How do you feel?" + +"My throat's sore, mamma, and my legs could not find a cold place all +night. Feel my hand." + +It was a child's answer, sufficiently expressive. An anxious look rose to +her countenance. + +"Are you sure your throat is sore?" + +"It's very sore. I am so thirsty." + +Lady Hartledon gave him some weak tea, and sent for Mr. Brook to come +round as soon as possible. At breakfast she met the dowager, who had +been out the previous evening during the powder episode. Lady Hartledon +mentioned to her husband that she had sent a message to the doctor, not +much liking Edward's symptoms. + +"What's the matter with him?" asked the dowager, quickly. "What are his +symptoms?" + +"Nay, I may be wrong," said Lady Hartledon, with a smile. "I won't infect +you with my fears, when there may be no reason for them." + +The countess-dowager caught at the one word, and applied it in a manner +never anticipated. She was the same foolish old woman she had ever been; +indeed, her dread of catching any disorder had only grown with the years. +And it happened, unfortunately for her peace, that the disorder which +leaves its cruel traces on the most beautiful face was just then +prevalent in London. Of all maladies the human frame is subject to, +the vain old creature most dreaded that one. She rose up from her seat; +her face turned pale, and her teeth began to chatter. + +"It's small-pox! If I have a horror of one thing more than another, it's +that dreadful, disfiguring malady. I wouldn't stay in a house where it +was for a hundred thousand pounds. I might catch it and be marked for +life!" + +Lady Hartledon begged her to be composed, and Val smothered a laugh. The +symptoms were not those of small-pox. + +"How should you know?" retorted the dowager, drowning the reassuring +words. "How should any one know? Get Pepps here directly. Have you sent +for him?" + +"No," said Anne. "I have more confidence in Mr. Brook where children are +concerned." + +"Confidence in Brook!" shrieked the dowager, pushing up her flaxen front. +"A common, overworked apothecary! Confidence in him, Lady Hartledon! +Elster's life may be in danger; he is my grandchild, and I insist on +Pepps being fetched to him." + +Anne sat down at once and wrote a brief note to Sir Alexander. It +happened that the message sent to Mr. Brook had found that gentleman away +from home, and the greater man arrived first. He looked at the child, +asked a few bland questions, and wrote a prescription. He did not say +what the illness might be: for he never hazarded a premature opinion. +As he was leaving the chamber, a servant accosted him. + +"Lady Kirton wishes to see you, sir." + +"Well, Pepps," cried she, as he advanced, having loaded herself with +camphor, "what is it?" + +"I do not take upon myself to pronounce an opinion, Lady Kirton," +rejoined the doctor, who had grown to feel irritated lately at the +dowager's want of ceremony towards him. "In the early stage of a disorder +it can rarely be done with certainty." + +"Now don't let's have any of that professional humbug, Pepps," rejoined +her ladyship. "You doctors know a common disorder as soon as you see it, +only you think it looks wise not to say. Is it small-pox?" + +"It's not impossible," said the doctor, in his wrath. + +The dowager gasped. + +"But I do not observe any symptoms of that malady developing themselves +at present," added the doctor. "I think I may say it is not small-pox." + +"Good patience, Pepps! you'll frighten me into it. It is and it +isn't--what do you mean? What is it, if it's not that?" + +"I may be able to tell after a second visit. Good morning, Lady Kirton," +said he, backing out. "Take care you don't do yourself an injury with too +much of that camphor. It is exciting." + +In a short time Mr. Brook arrived. When he had seen the child and was +alone with Lady Hartledon, she explained that the countess-dowager had +wished Sir Alexander Pepps called in, and showed him the prescription +just written. He read it and laid it down. + +"Lady Hartledon," said he, "I must venture to disagree with that +prescription. Lord Elster's symptoms are those of scarlet-fever, and it +would be unwise to administer it. Sir Alexander stands of course much +higher in the profession than I do, but my practice with children is +larger than his." + +"I feared it was scarlet-fever," answered Lady Hartledon. "What is to be +done? I have every confidence in you, Mr. Brook; and were Edward my own +child, I should know how to act. Do you think it would be dangerous to +give him this prescription? You may speak confidentially." + +"Not dangerous; it is a prescription that will do neither harm nor +good. I suspect Sir Alexander could not detect the nature of the illness, +and wrote this merely to gain time. It is not an infrequent custom to +do so. In my opinion, not an hour should be lost in giving him a more +efficacious medicine; early treatment is everything in scarlet-fever." + +Lady Hartledon had been rapidly making up her mind. "Send in what you +think right to be taken, immediately," she said, "and meet Sir Alexander +in consultation later on." + +Scarlet-fever it proved to be; not a mild form of it; and in a very few +hours Lord Elster was in great danger, the throat being chiefly affected. +The house was in commotion; the dowager worse than any one in it. A +complication of fears beset her: first, terror for her own safety, and +next, the less abject dread that death might remove _her_ grandchild. In +this latter fear she partly lost her personal fears, so far at any rate +as to remain in the house; for it seemed to her that the child would +inevitably die if she left it. Late in the afternoon she rushed into the +presence of the doctors, who had just been holding a second consultation. + +Sir Alexander Pepps recommended leeches to the throat: Mr. Brook +disapproved of them. "It is the one chance for his life," said Sir +Alexander. + +"It is removing nearly all chance," said Mr. Brook. + +Sir Alexander prevailed; and when they came forth it was understood that +leeches were to be applied. But here Lady Hartledon stepped in. + +"I dread leeches to the throat, Sir Alexander, if you will forgive me for +saying so. I have twice seen them applied in scarlet-fever; and the +patients--one a young lady, the other a child--in both cases died." + +"Madam, I have given my opinion," curtly returned the physician. "They +are necessary in Lord Elster's case." + +"Do you approve of leeches?" cried Lady Hartledon, turning to Mr. Brook. + +"Not altogether," was the cautious answer. + +"Answer me one question, Mr. Brook," said Lady Hartledon, in her +earnestness. "Would you apply these leeches were you treating the case +alone?" + +"No, madam, I would not." + +Anne appealed to her husband. When the medical men differed, she thought +the decision lay with him. + +"I'm sure I don't know," returned Val, who felt perfectly helpless to +advise. "Can't you decide, Anne? You know more about children and illness +than I do." + +"I would do so without hesitating a moment were it my own child," she +replied. "I would not allow them to be put on." + +"No, you would rather see him die," interrupted the dowager, who +overheard the words, and most intemperately and unjustifiably answered +them. + +Anne coloured with shame for the old woman, but the words silenced her: +how was it possible to press her own opinion after that? Sir Alexander +had it all his own way, and the leeches were applied on either side the +throat, Mr. Brook emphatically asserting in Lady Hartledon's private ear +that he "washed his hands" of the measure. Before they came off the +consequences were apparent; the throat was swollen outwardly, on both +sides; within, it appeared to be closing. + +The dowager, rather beside herself on the whole, had insisted on the +leeches. Any one, seeing her conduct now, might have thought the invalid +boy was really dear to her. Nothing of the sort. A hazy idea had been +looming through her mind for years that Val was not strong; she had been +mistaking mental disease for bodily illness; and a project to have full +control of her grandchild, should he come into the succession +prematurely, had coloured her dreams. This charming prospect would be +ignominiously cut short if the boy went first. + +Sir Alexander saw his error. There must be something peculiar in Lord +Elster's constitution, he blandly said; it would not have happened in +another. Of course, anything that turns out a mistake always is in the +constitution--never in the treatment. Whether he lived or died now was +just the turn of a straw: the chances were that he would die. All that +could be done now was to endeavour to counteract the mischief by external +applications. + +"I wish you would let me try a remedy," said Lady Hartledon, wistfully. +"A compress of cold water round the throat with oilsilk over it. I have +seen it do so much good in cases of inward inflammation." + +Mr. Brook smiled: if anything would do good that might, he said, speaking +as if he had little faith in remedies now. Sir Alexander intimated that +her ladyship might try it; graciously observing that it would do no harm. + +The application was used, and the evening went on. The child had fallen +into a sort of stupor, and Mr. Brook came in again before he had been +away an hour, and leaned anxiously over the patient. He lay with his eyes +half-closed, and breathed with difficulty. + +"I think," he exclaimed softly, "there's the slightest shade of +improvement." + +"In the fever, or the throat?" whispered Lady Hartledon, who had not +quitted the boy's bedside. + +"In the throat. If so, it is due to your remedy, Lady Hartledon." + +"Is he in danger?" + +"In great danger. Still, I see a gleam of hope." + +After the surgeon's departure, she went down to her husband, meeting +Hedges on the stairs, who was coming to inquire after the patient for his +master, for about the fiftieth time. Hartledon was in the library, pacing +about incessantly in the darkness, for the room was only lighted by the +fire. Anne closed the door and approached him. + +"Percival, I do not bring you very good tidings," she said; "and yet they +might be worse. Mr. Brook tells me he is in great danger, but thinks he +sees a gleam of hope." + +Lord Hartledon took her hand within his arm and resumed his pacing; his +eyes were fixed on the carpet, and he said nothing. + +"Don't grieve as those without hope," she continued, her eyes filling +with tears. "He may yet recover. I have been praying that it may be so." + +"Don't pray for it," he cried, his tone one of painful entreaty. "I have +been daring to pray that it might please God to take him." + +"Percival!" she exclaimed, starting away from him. + +"I am not mad, Anne. Death would be a more merciful fate for my boy than +life. Death now, whilst he is innocent, safe in Christ's love!--death, in +Heaven's mercy!" + +And Anne crept back to the upper chamber, sick with terror; for she did +think that the trouble of his child's state was affecting her husband's +brain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A PAINFUL SCENE. + + +Lord and Lady Hartledon were entertaining a family group. The everlasting +dowager kept to them unpleasantly; making things unbearable, and wearing +out her welcome in no slight degree, if she had only been wise enough to +see it. She had escaped scarlet-fever and other dreaded ills; and was +alive still. For that matter, the little Lord Elster had come out of it +also: _not_ unscathed; for the boy remained a sickly wreck, and there was +very little hope that he would really recover. The final close might be +delayed, but it was not to be averted. Before Easter they had left London +for Hartledon, that he might have country air. Lord Hartledon's eldest +sister, Lady Margaret Cooper, came there with her husband; and on this +day the other sister, Lady Laura Level, had arrived from India. Lady +Margaret was an invalid, and not an agreeable woman besides; but to Laura +and Anne the meeting, after so many years' separation, was one of intense +pleasure. They had been close friends from childhood. + +They were all gathered together in the large drawing-room after luncheon. +The day was a wet one, and no one had ventured out except Sir James +Cooper. Accustomed to the Scotch mists, this rain seemed a genial shower, +and Sir James was enjoying it accordingly. It was a warm, close day, in +spite of the rain; and the large fire in the grate made the room +oppressive, so that they were glad to throw the windows open. + +Lying on a sofa near the fire was the invalid boy. By merely looking at +him you might see that he would never rally, though he fluctuated much. +To-day he was, comparatively speaking, well. Little Maude was threading +beads; and the two others, much younger, stood looking on--Reginald +and Anne. Lady Margaret Cooper, having a fellow-feeling for an invalid, +sat near the sick boy. Lord Hartledon sat apart at a table reading, and +making occasional notes. The dowager, more cumbersome than ever, dozed on +the other side of the hearth. She was falling into the habit of taking a +nap after luncheon as well as after dinner. Lady Laura was in danger of +convulsions every time she looked at the dowager. Never in all her life +had she seen so queer an old figure. She and Anne stood together at an +open window, the one eagerly asking questions, the other answering, all +in undertones. Lady Laura had been away from her own home and kindred +some twelve years, and it seemed to her half a lifetime. + +"Anne, how _was_ it?" she exclaimed. "It was a thing that always puzzled +me, and I never came to the bottom of it. My husband said at the time I +used to talk of it in my sleep." + +"What do you mean?" + +"About you and Val. You were engaged to each other; you loved him, and he +loved you. How came that other marriage about?" + +"Well, I can hardly tell you. I was at Cannes with mamma, and he fell +into the meshes. We knew nothing about it until they were married. Never +mind all that now; I don't care to recall it, and it is a very sore point +with Val. The blame, I believe, lay chiefly with _her_." + +Anne glanced at the dowager, to indicate whom she meant. Lady Laura's +eyes followed the same direction, and she laughed. + +"A painted old guy! She looks like one who would do it. Why doesn't some +one put her under a glass case and take her to the British Museum? When +news of the marriage came out to India I was thunderstruck. I wrote off +at once to Val, asking all sorts of questions, and received quite a +savage reply, telling me to mind my own business. That letter alone would +have told me how Val repented; it was so unlike him. Do you know what I +did?" + +"What did you do?" + +"Sent him another letter by return mail with only two words in +it--'Elster's Folly.' Poor Val! She died of heart-disease, did she not?" + +"Yes. But she seemed to have been ailing for some time. She was greatly +changed." + +"Val is changed. There are threads of silver in his hair; and he is so +much quieter than I thought he ever would be. I wonder you took him, +Anne, after all; and I wonder still more that Dr. Ashton allowed it." + +A blush tinged Lady Hartledon's face as she looked out at the soft rain, +and a half-smile parted her lips. + +"I see, Anne. Love once, love ever; and I suppose it was the same with +Val, in spite of his folly. I should have taken out my revenge by +marrying the first eligible man that offered himself. Talking of +that--is poor Mr. Graves married yet?" + +"Yes, at last," said Anne, laughing. "A grand match too for him, poor +timid man: his wife's a lord's daughter, and as tall as a house." + +"If ever man worshipped woman he worshipped you, though you were only a +girl." + +"Nonsense, Laura." + +"Anne, you knew it quite well; and so did Val. Did he ever screw his +courage up to the point of proposing?" + +Anne laughed. "If he ever did, I was too vexed to answer him. He will be +very happy, Laura. His wife is a meek, amiable woman, in spite of her +formidable height." + +"And now I want you to tell me one thing--How was it that Edward could +not be saved?" + +For a moment Lady Hartledon did not understand, and turned her eyes on +the boy. + +"I mean my brother, Anne. When news came out to India that he had died in +that shocking manner, following upon poor George--I don't care now to +recall how I felt. Was there _no_ one at hand to save him?" + +"No one. A sad fatality seemed to attend it altogether. Val regrets his +brother bitterly to this day." + +"And that poor Willy Gum was killed at sea, after all!" + +"Yes," said Anne, shortly. "When you spoke of Edward," returning to the +other subject, "I thought you meant the boy." + +Lady Laura shook her head. "He will never get well, Anne. Death is +written on his face." + +"You would say so, if you saw him some days. He is excitable, and your +coming has roused him. I never saw any one fluctuate so; one day dying, +the next better again. For myself I have very little hope, and Mr. +Hillary has none; but I dare not say so to Margaret and the dowager." + +"Why not?" + +"It makes them angry. They cannot bear to hear there's a possibility of +his death. Margaret may see the danger, but I don't believe the dowager +does." + +"Their wishes must blind them," observed Lady Laura. "The dowager seems +all fury and folly. She scarcely gave herself time to welcome me this +morning, or to inquire how I was after my long voyage; but began +descanting on a host of evils, the chief being that her grandson should +have had fever." + +"She would like him to bear a charmed life. Not for love of him, Laura." + +"What then?" + +"I do not believe she has a particle of love for him. Don't think me +uncharitable; it is the truth; Val will tell you the same. She is not +capable of experiencing common affection for any one; every feeling of +her nature is merged in self-interest. Had her daughter left another boy +she would not be dismayed at the prospect of this one's death; whether he +lived or died, it would be all one to her. The grievance is that Reginald +should have the chance of succeeding." + +"Because he is your son. I understand. A vain, puffed-up old thing! the +idea of her still painting her face and wearing false curls! I wonder you +tolerate her in your house, Anne! She's always here." + +"How can I help myself? She considers, I believe, that she has more right +in this house than I have." + +"Does she make things uncomfortable?" + +"More so than I have ever confessed, even to my husband. From the hour of +my marriage she set the two children against me, and against my children +when they came; and she never ceases to do so still." + +"Why do you submit to it?" + +"She is their grandmother, and I cannot well deny her the house. Val +might do so, but he does not. Perhaps I should have had courage to +attempt it, for the children's own sake, it is so shocking to train them +to ill-nature, but that he appears to think as she does. The petty +disputes between the children are frequent--for my two elder ones are +getting of an age to turn again when put upon--but their father never +corrects Edward and Maude, or allows them to be corrected; let them do +what wrong they will, he takes their part. I believe that if Edward +_killed_ one of my children, he would only caress him." + +Lady Laura turned her eyes on the speaker's face, on its flush of pain +and mortification. + +"And Val loved you: and did _not_ love Maude! What does it mean, Anne?" + +"I cannot tell you. Things altogether are growing more than I can bear." + +"Margaret has been with you some time; has she not interfered, or tried +to put things upon a right footing?" + +Anne shook her head. "She espouses the dowager's side; upholds the two +children in their petty tyranny. No one in the house takes my part, or my +children's." + +"That is just like Margaret. Do you remember how you and I used to dread +her domineering spirit when we were girls? It's time I came, I think, to +set things right." + +"Laura, neither you nor any one else can set things right. They have been +wrong too long. The worst is, I cannot see what the evil is, as regards +Val. If I ask him he repels me, or laughs at me, and tells me I am +fanciful. That he has some secret trouble I have long known: his days are +unhappy, his nights restless; often when he thinks me asleep I am +listening to his sighs. I am glad you have come home; I have wanted a +true friend to confide these troubles to, and I could only speak of them +to one of the family." + +"It sounds like a romance," cried Laura. "Some secret grief! What can it +be?" + +They were interrupted by a commotion. Maude had been threading a splendid +ring all the colours of the rainbow, and now exhibited it for the benefit +of admiring beholders. + +"Papa--Aunt Margaret--look at my ring." + +Lord Hartledon nodded pleasantly at the child from his distant seat; Lady +Margaret appeared not to have heard; and Maude caught up a soft ball and +threw it at her aunt. + +Unfortunately, it took a wrong direction, and struck the nodding dowager +on the nose. She rose up in a fury and some commotion ensued. + +"Make me a ring, Maude," little Anne lisped when the dowager had subsided +into her chair again. Maude took no notice; her finger was still lifted +with the precious ornament. + +"Can you see it from your sofa, Edward?" + +The boy rose and stretched himself. "Pretty well. You have put it on the +wrong finger, Maude. Ladies don't wear rings on the little finger." + +"But it won't go on the others," said Maude dolefully: "it's too small." + +"Make a larger one." + +"Make one for me, Maude," again broke in Anne's little voice. + +"No, I won't!" returned Maude. "You are big enough to thread beads for +yourself." + +"No, she's not," said Reginald. "Make her one, Maude." + +"No, don't, Maude," said Edward. "Let them do things for themselves." + +"You hear!" whispered Lady Hartledon. + +"I do hear. And Val sits there and never reproves them; and the old +dowager's head and eyes are nodding and twinkling approval." + +Lady Laura was an energetic little woman, thin, and pale, and excessively +active, with a propensity for setting the world straight, and a tongue as +unceremoniously free as the dowager's. In the cause of justice she would +have stood up to battle with a giant. Lady Hartledon was about to make +some response, but she bade her wait; her attention was absorbed by the +children. Perhaps the truth was that she was burning to have a say in the +matter herself. + +"Maude," she called out, "if that ring is too small for you, it would do +for Anne, and be kind of you to give it her." + +Maude looked dubious. Left to herself, the child would have been generous +enough. She glanced at the dowager. + +"May I give it her, grand'ma?" + +Grand'ma was conveniently deaf. She would rather have cut the ring in +two than it should be given to the hated child: but, on the other hand, +she did not care to offend Laura Level, who possessed inconveniently +independent opinions, and did not shrink from proclaiming them. Seizing +the poker, she stirred the fire, and created a divertissement. + +In the midst of it, Edward left his sofa and walked up to the group and +their beads. He was very weak, and tottered unintentionally against Anne. +The touch destroyed her equilibrium, and she fell into Maude's lap. There +was no damage done, but the box of beads was upset on to the carpet. +Maude screamed at the loss of her treasures, rose up with anger, and +slapped Anne. The child cried out. + +"Why d'you hit her?" cried Reginald. "It was Edward's fault; he pushed +her." + +"What's that!" exclaimed Edward. "My fault! I'll teach you to say that," +and he struck Reginald a tingling slap on the cheek. + +Of course there was loud crying. The dowager looked on with a red face. +Lady Margaret Cooper, who had no children of her own, stopped her ears. +Lady Laura laid her hand on her sister-in law's wrist. + +"And you can witness these scenes, and not check them! You are changed, +indeed, Anne!" + +"If I interfere to protect my children, I am checked and prevented," +replied Lady Hartledon, with quivering lips. "This scene is nothing to +what we have sometimes." + +"Who checks you--Val?" + +"The dowager. But he does not interpose for me. Where the children are +concerned, he tacitly lets her have sway. It is not often anything of +this sort takes place in his presence." + +The noise continued: all the children seemed to be fighting together. +Anne went forward and drew her own two out of the fray. + +"Pray send those two screamers to the nursery, Lady Hartledon," cried the +dowager. + +"I cannot think why they are allowed in the drawing-room at all," said +Lady Margaret, addressing no one in particular, unless it was the +ceiling. "Edward and Maude would be quiet enough without them." + +Anne did not retort: she only glanced at her husband, silent reproach on +her pale face, and took up Anne in her arms to carry her from the room. +But Lady Laura, impulsive and warm, came forward and stopped the exit. + +"Lady Kirton, I am ashamed of you! Margaret, I am ashamed of you! I am +ashamed of you all. You are doing the children a lasting injury, and you +are guilty of cruel insult to Lady Hartledon. This is the second scene I +have been a witness to, when the elder children were encouraged to behave +badly to the younger; the first was in the nursery this morning; and I +have been here only a few hours. And you, Lord Hartledon, their head and +father, responsible for your children's welfare, can tamely sit by, and +suffer it, and see your wife insulted! Is this what you married Anne +Ashton for?" + +Lord Hartledon rose: a strange look of pain on his features. "You are +mistaken, Laura. I wish every respect to be shown to my wife; respect +from all. Anne knows it." + +"Respect!" scornfully retorted Lady Laura. "When you do not give her +so much as a voice in her own house; when you allow her children to be +trampled on, and beaten--_beaten_, sir--and she dare not interfere! +I blush for you, and could never have believed you would so behave to +your wife. Who are you, madam," turning again, in her anger, on the +countess-dowager, "and who are you, Margaret, that you should dare to +encourage Edward and Maude in rebellion against their present mother?" + +Taken by surprise, the dowager made no answer. Lady Margaret looked +defiance. + +"You and Anne have invited me to your house on a lengthened visit, Lord +Hartledon," continued Laura; "but I promise you that if this is to +continue I will not remain in it; I will not witness insult to my early +friend; and I will not see children incited to evil passions. Undress +that child, sir," she sharply added, directing Val's attention to +Reginald, "and you will see bruises on his back and shoulder. I saw them +this morning, and asked the nurse what caused them and was told Lord +Elster kicked him." + +"It was the little beggar's own fault," interposed Edward, who was +standing his ground with equanimity, and seemed to enjoy the scene. + +Lady Laura caught him sharply by the arm. "Of whom are you speaking! +Who's a little beggar?" + +"Regy is." + +"Who taught you to call him one?" + +"Grand'ma." + +"There, go away; go away all of you," cried Lady Laura, turning the two +elder ones from the room imperatively, after Anne and her children. "Oh, +so you are going also, Val! No wonder you are ashamed to stay here." + +He was crossing the room; a curious expression on his drawn lips. Laura +watched him from it; then went and stood before the dowager; her back to +her sister. + +"Has it ever struck you, Lady Kirton, that you may one day have to +account for this?" + +"It strikes me that you are making a vast deal of unnecessary noise, +Madame Laura!" + +"If your daughter could look on, from the other world, at earth and +its scenes--and some hold a theory that such a state of things is not +impossible--what would be her anguish, think you, at the evil you are +inculcating in her children? One of them will very soon be with her--" + +The dowager interrupted with a sort of howl. + +"He will; there is no mistaking it. You who see him constantly may not +detect it; but it is evident to a stranger. Were it not beneath me, I +might ask on what grounds you tutor him to call Reginald a beggar, +considering that your daughter brought my brother nothing but a few +debts; whilst Miss Ashton brought him a large fortune?" + +"I wouldn't condescend to be mean, Laura," put in Lady Margaret, whilst +the dowager fanned her hot face. + +They were interrupted by Hedges, showing in visitors. How much more Lady +Laura might have said must remain unknown: she was in a mood to say a +great deal. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Graves." + +It was the curate; and the tall, meek woman spoken of by Anne. Laura +laughed as she shook hands with the former; whom she had known when a +girl, and been given to ridiculing more than was quite polite. + +Lord Hartledon had left the room after his wife. She sent the children +to the nursery; and he found her alone in her chamber sobbing bitterly. + +Certainly he was a contradiction. He fondly took her in his arms, +beseeching her to pardon him, if he had unwittingly slighted her, as +Laura implied; and his blue eyes were beaming with affection, his voice +was low with persuasive tenderness. + +"There are times," she sobbed, "when I am tempted to wish myself back in +my father's house!" + +"I cannot think whence all this discomfort arises!" he weakly exclaimed. +"Of one thing, Anne, rest assured: as soon as Edward changes for the +better or the worse--and one it must inevitably be--that mischief-making +old woman shall quit my house for ever." + +"Edward will never change for the better," she said. "For the worse, he +may soon: for the better, never." + +"I know: Hillary has told me. Bear with things a little longer, and +believe that I will remedy them the moment remedy is possible. I am your +husband." + +Lady Hartledon lifted her eyes to his. "We cannot go on as we are going +on now. Tell me what it is you have to bear. You remind me that you are +my husband; I now remind you that I am your wife: confide in me. I will +be true and loving to you, whatever it may be." + +"Not yet; in a little time, perhaps. Bear with me still, my dear wife." + +His look was haggard; his voice bore a sound of anguish; he clasped her +hand to pain as he left her. Whatever might be his care, Anne could not +doubt his love. + +And as he went into the drawing-room, a smile on his face, chatting with +the curate, laughing with his newly-married wife, both those unsuspicious +visitors could have protested when they went forth, that never was a man +more free from trouble than that affable servant of her Majesty's the +Earl of Hartledon. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +EXPLANATIONS. + + +A change for the worse occurred in the child, Lord Elster; and after two +or three weeks' sinking he died, and was buried at Hartledon by the side +of his mother. Hartledon's sister quitted Hartledon House for a change; +but the countess-dowager was there still, and disturbed its silence with +moans and impromptu lamentations, especially when going up and down the +staircase and along the corridors. + +Mr. Carr, who had come for the funeral, also remained. On the day +following it he and Lord Hartledon were taking a quiet walk together, +when they met Mrs. Gum. Hartledon stopped and spoke to her in his kindly +manner. She was less nervous than she used to be; and she and her husband +were once more at peace in their house. + +"I would not presume to say a word of sympathy, my lord," she said, +curtseying, "but we felt it indeed. Jabez was cut up like anything when +he came in yesterday from the funeral." + +Val looked at her, a meaning she understood in his earnest eyes. "Yes, it +is hard to part with our children: but when grief is over, we live in the +consolation that they have only gone before us to a better place, where +sin and sorrow are not. We shall join them later." + +She went away, tears of joy filling her eyes. _She_ had a son up there, +waiting for _her_; and she knew Lord Hartledon meant her to think of him +when he had so spoken. + +"Carr," said Val, "I never told you the finale of that tragedy. George +Gordon of the mutiny, did turn up: he lived and died in England." + +"No!" + +"He died at Calne. It was that poor woman's son." + +Mr. Carr looked round for an explanation. He knew her as the wife of +clerk Gum, and sister to Hartledon's housekeeper. Val told him all, as +the facts had come out to him. + +"Pike always puzzled me," he said. "Disguised as he was with his black +hair, his face stained with some dark juice, there was a look in him that +used to strike some chord in my memory. It lay in the eyes, I think. +You'll keep these facts sacred, Carr, for the parents' sake. They are +known only to four of us." + +"Have you told your wife yet?" questioned Mr. Carr, recurring to a +different subject. + +"No. I could not, somehow, whilst the child lay dead in the house. She +shall know it shortly." + +"And what about dismissing the countess-dowager? You will do it?" + +"I shall be only too thankful to do it. All my courage has come back to +me, thank Heaven!" + +The Countess-Dowager of Kirton's reign was indeed over; never would he +allow her to disturb the peace of his house again. He might have to +pension her off, but that was a light matter. His intention was to speak +to her in a few days' time, allowing an interval to elapse after the +boy's death; but she forestalled the time herself, as Val was soon to +find. + +Dinner that evening was a sad meal--sad and silent. The only one who did +justice to it was the countess-dowager--in a black gauze dress and white +crêpe turban. Let what would betide, Lady Kirton never failed to enjoy +her dinner. She had a scheme in her head; it had been working there since +the day of her grandson's death; and when the servants withdrew, she +judged it expedient to disclose it to Hartledon, hoping to gain her +point, now that he was softened by sorrow. + +"Hartledon, I want to talk to you," she began, critically tasting her +wine; "and I must request that you'll attend to me." + +Anne looked up, wondering what was coming. She wore an evening dress of +black crêpe, a jet necklace on her fair neck, jet bracelets on her arms: +mourning far deeper than the dowager's. + +"Are you listening to me, Val?" + +"I am quite ready," answered Val. + +"I asked you, once before, to let me have Maude's children, and to allow +me a fair income with them. Had you done so, this dreadful misfortune +would not have overtaken your house: for it stands to reason that if Lord +Elster had been living somewhere else with me, he could not have caught +scarlet-fever in London." + +"We never thought he did catch it," returned Hartledon. "It was not +prevalent at the time; and, strange to say, none of the other children +took it, nor any one else in the house." + +"Then what gave it him?" sharply uttered the dowager. + +What Val answered was spoken in a low tone, and she caught one word only, +Providence. She gave a growl, and continued. + +"At any rate, he's gone; and you have now no pretext for refusing me +Maude. I shall take her, and bring her up, and you must make me a liberal +allowance for her." + +"I shall not part with Maude," said Val, in quiet tones of decision. + +"You can't refuse her to me, I say," rejoined the dowager, nodding her +head defiantly; "she's my own grandchild." + +"And my child. The argument on this point years ago was unsatisfactory, +Lady Kirton; I do not feel disposed to renew it. Maude will remain in her +own home." + +"You are a vile man!" cried the dowager, with an inflamed face. "Pass me +the wine." + +He filled her glass, and left the decanter with her. She resumed. + +"One day, when I was with Maude, in that last illness of hers in London, +when we couldn't find out what was the matter with her, poor dear, she +wrote you a letter; and I know what was in it, for I read it. You had +gone dancing off somewhere for a week." + +"To the Isle of Wight, on your account," put in Lord Hartledon, quietly; +"on that unhappy business connected with your son who lives there. Well, +ma'am?" + +"In that letter Maude said she wished me to have charge of her children, +if she died; and begged you to take notice that she said it," continued +the dowager. "Perhaps you'll say you never had that letter?" + +"On the contrary, madam, I admit receiving it," he replied. "I daresay I +have it still. Most of Maude's letters lie in my desk undisturbed." + +"And, admitting that, you refuse to act up to it?" + +"Maude wrote in a moment of pique, when she was angry with me. But--" + +"And I have no doubt she had good cause for anger!" + +"She had great cause," was his answer, spoken with a strange sadness that +surprised both the dowager and Lady Hartledon. Thomas Carr was twirling +his wine-glass gently round on the white cloth, neither speaking nor +looking. + +"Later, my wife fully retracted what she said in that letter," continued +Val. "She confessed that she had written it partly at your dictation, +Lady Kirton, and said--but I had better not tell you that, perhaps." + +"Then you shall tell me, Lord Hartledon; and you are a two-faced man, if +you shuffle out of it." + +"Very well. Maude said that she would not for the whole world allow her +children to be brought up by you; she warned me also not to allow you to +obtain too much influence over them." + +"It's false!" said the dowager, in no way disconcerted. + +"It is perfectly true: and Maude told me you knew what her sentiments +were upon the point. Her real wish, as expressed to me, was, that the +children should remain with me in any case, in their proper home." + +"You say you have that other letter still?" cried the dowager, who was +not always very clear in her conversation. + +"No doubt." + +"Then perhaps you'll look for it: and read over her wishes in black and +white." + +"To what end? It would make no difference in my decision. I tell you, +ma'am, I am consulting Maude's wishes in keeping her child at home." + +"I know better," retorted the dowager, completely losing her temper. "I +wish your poor dear wife could rise from her grave and confute you. It's +all stinginess; because you won't part with a paltry bit of money." + +"No," said Val, "it's because I won't part with my child. Understand me, +Lady Kirton--had Maude's wishes even been with you in this, I should not +carry them out. As to money--I may have something to say to you on that +score; but suppose we postpone it to a more fitting opportunity." + +"You wouldn't carry them out!" she cried. "But you might be forced to, +you mean man! That letter may be as good as a will in the eyes of the +law. You daren't produce it; that's what it is." + +"I'll give it you with pleasure," said Val, with a smile. "That is, if +I have kept it. I am not sure." + +She caught up her fan, and sat fanning herself. The reservation had +suggested a meaning never intended to her crafty mind; her rebellious +son-in-law meant to destroy the letter; and she began wondering how she +could outwit him. + +A sharp cry outside the door interrupted them. The children were only +coming in to dessert now; and Reginald, taking a flying leap down the +stairs, took rather too long a one, and came to grief at the bottom. +Truth to say, the young gentleman, no longer kept down by poor Edward, +was getting high-spirited and venturesome. + +"What's that?" asked Anne, as the nurse came in with them, scolding. + +"Lord Elster fell down, my lady. He's getting as tiresome as can be. Only +to-day, I caught him astride the kitchen banisters, going to slide down +them." + +"Oh, Regy," said his mother, holding up her reproving finger. + +The boy laughed, and came forward rubbing his arm, and ashamed of his +tears. Val caught him up and kissed them away, drawing Maude also to his +side. + +That letter! The dowager was determined to get it, if there was a +possibility of doing so. A suspicion that she would not be tolerated much +longer in Lady Hartledon's house was upon her, and she knew not where to +go. Kirton had married again; and his new wife had fairly turned her out +more unceremoniously than the late one did. By hook or by crook, she +meant to obtain the guardianship of her granddaughter, because in giving +her Maude, Lord Hartledon would have to allow her an income. + +She was a woman to stop at nothing; and upon quitting the dining-room she +betook herself to the library--a large, magnificent room--the pride of +Hartledon. She had come in search of Val's desk; which she found, and +proceeded to devise means of opening it. That accomplished, she sat +herself down, like a leisurely housebreaker, to examine it, putting on a +pair of spectacles, which she kept surreptitiously in a pocket, and would +not have worn before any one for the world. She found the letter she was +in search of; and she found something else for her pains, which she had +not bargained for. + +Not just at first. There were many tempting odds and ends of things to +dip into. For one thing, she found Val's banking book, and some old +cheque-books; they served her for some time. Next she came upon two +packets sealed up in white paper, with Val's own seal. On one was +written, "Letters of Lady Maude;" on the other, "Letters of my dear +Anne." Peering further into the desk, she came upon an obscure inner +slide, which had evidently not been opened for years, and she had +difficulty in undoing it. A paper was in it, superscribed, "Concerning +A.W.;" on opening which she found a letter addressed to Thomas Carr, of +the Temple. + +Thomas Carr's letters were no more sacred with her than Lord Hartledon's. +No woman living was troubled with scruples so little as she. It proved to +have been written by a Dr. Mair, in Scotland, and was dated several years +back. + +But now--did Lord Hartledon really know he had that dangerous letter by +him? If so, what could have possessed him to preserve it? Or, did he not +rather believe he had returned it to Mr. Carr at the time? The latter, +indeed, proved to be the case; and never, to the end of his life, would +he, in one sense, forgive his own carelessness. + +Who was A.W.? thought the curious old woman, as she drew the light nearer +to her, and began the tempting perusal, making the most of the little +time left. They could not be at tea yet, and she had told Lady Hartledon +she was going to take her nap in her own room. The gratification of +rummaging false Val's desk was an ample compensation; and the +countess-dowager hugged herself with delight. + +But what was this she had come upon--this paper "concerning A. W."? The +dowager's mouth fell as she read; and gradually her little eyes opened as +if they would start from their sockets, and her face grew white. Have you +ever watched the livid pallor of fear struggling to one of these painted +faces? She dashed off her spectacles; she got up and wrung her hands; +she executed a frantic war-dance; and finally she tore, with the letter, +into the drawing-room, where Val and Anne and Thomas Carr were beginning +tea and talking quietly. + +They rose in consternation as she danced in amongst them, and held out +the letter to Lord Hartledon. + +He took it from her, gazing in utter bewilderment as he gathered in its +contents. Was it a fresh letter, or--his face became whiter than the +dowager's. In her reckless passion she avowed what she had done--the +letter was secreted in his desk. + +"Have you dared to visit my desk?" he gasped--"break my seals? Are you +mad?" + +"Hark at him!" she cried. "He calls me to account for just lifting the +lid of a desk! But what is he? A villain--a thief--a spy--a murderer--and +worse than any of them! Ah, ha, my lady!" nodding her false front at +Lady Hartledon, who stood as one petrified, "you stare there at me with +your open eyes; but you don't know what you are! Ask _him_! What was +Maude--Heaven help her--my poor Maude? What was she? And _you_ in the +plot; you vile Carr! I'll have you all hanged together!" + +Lord Hartledon caught his wife's hand. + +"Carr, stay here with her and tell her all. No good concealing anything +now she has read this letter. Tell her for me, for she would never listen +to me." + +He drew his wife into an adjoining room, the one where the portrait of +George Elster looked down on its guests. The time for disclosing the +story to his wife had been somewhat forestalled. He would have given half +his life that it had never reached that other woman, miserable old sinner +though she was. + +"You are trembling, Anne; you need not do so. It is not against you that +I have sinned." + +Yes, she was trembling very much. And Val, in his honourable, his +refined, shrinking nature, would have given his life's other half not +to have had the tale to tell. + +It is not a pleasant one. You may skip it if you please, and go on to the +last page. Val once said he had been more sinned against than sinning: it +may be deemed that in that opinion he was too lenient to himself. Anne, +his wife, listened with averted face and incredulous ears. + +"You have wanted a solution to my conduct, Anne--to the strange +preference I seemed to accord the poor boy who is gone; why I could not +punish him; why I was more thankful for the boon of his death than I had +been for his life. He was my child, but he was not Lord Elster." + +She did not understand. + +"He had no right to my name; poor little Maude has no right to it. Do you +understand me now?" + +Not at all; it was as though he were talking Greek to her. + +"Their mother, when they were born, was not my wife." + +"Their mother was Lady Maude Kirton," she rejoined, in her bewilderment. + +"That is exactly where it was," he answered bitterly. "Lady Maude Kirton, +not Lady Hartledon." + +She could not comprehend the words; her mind was full of consternation +and tumult. Back went her thoughts to the past. + +"Oh, Val! I remember papa's saying that a marriage in that unused chapel +was only three parts legal!" + +"It was legal enough, Anne: legal enough. But when that ceremony took +place"--his voice dropped to a miserable whisper, "I had--as they tell +me--a wife living." + +Slowly she admitted the meaning of the words; and would have started from +him with a faint cry, but that he held her to him. + +"Listen to the whole, Anne, before you judge me. What has been your +promise to me, over and over again?--that, if I would tell you my sorrow, +_you_ would never shrink from me, whatever it might be." + +She remembered it, and stood still; terribly rebellious, clasping her +fingers to pain, one within the other. + +"In that respect, at any rate, I did not willingly sin. When I married +Maude I had no suspicion that I was not free as air; free to marry her, +or any other woman in the world." + +"You speak in enigmas," she said faintly. + +"Sit down, Anne, whilst I give you the substance of the tale. Not its +details until I am more myself, and that voice"--pointing to the next +room--"is not sounding in my ears. You shall hear all later; at least, as +much as I know myself; I have never quite believed in it, and it has been +to me throughout as a horrible dream." + +Indeed Mr. Carr seemed to be having no inconsiderable amount of trouble, +to judge by the explosions of wrath on the part of the dowager. + +She sat down as he told her, her face turned from him, rebellious +at having to listen, but curious yet. Lord Hartledon stood by the +mantelpiece and shaded his eyes with his hand. + +"Send your thoughts into the past, Anne; you may remember that an +accident happened to me in Scotland. It was before you and I were +engaged, or it would not have happened. Or, let me say, it might not; +for young men are reckless, and I was no better than others. Heaven have +mercy on their follies!" + +"The accident might not have happened?" + +"I do not speak of the accident. I mean what followed. When out shooting +I nearly blew off my arm. I was carried to the nearest medical man's, a +Dr. Mair's, and remained there; for it was not thought safe to move me; +they feared inflammation, and they feared locked-jaw. My father was +written to, and came; and when he left after the danger was over he made +arrangements with Dr. Mair to keep me on, for he was a skilful man, and +wished to perfect the cure. I thought the prolonged stay in the strange, +quiet house worse than all the rest. That feeling wore off; we grow +reconciled to most conditions; and things became more tolerable as I grew +better and joined the household. There was a wild, clever, random young +man staying there, the doctor's assistant--George Gordon; and there was +also a young girl, Agnes Waterlow. I used to wonder what this Agnes did +there, and one day asked the old housekeeper; she said the young lady was +there partly that the doctor might watch her health, partly because she +was a relative of his late wife's, and had no home." + +He paused, as if in thought, but soon continued. + +"We grew very intimate; I, Gordon, and Miss Waterlow. Neither of them was +the person I should have chosen for an intimacy; but there was, in a +sense, no help for it, living together. Agnes was a wild, free, rather +coarse-natured girl, and Gordon drank. That she fell in love with me +there's no doubt--and I grew to like her quite well enough to talk +nonsense to her. Whether any plot was laid between her and Gordon to +entrap me, or whether what happened arose in the recklessness of the +moment, I cannot decide to this hour. It was on my twenty-first birthday; +I was almost well again; we had what the doctor called a dinner, Gordon a +jollification, and Agnes a supper. It was late when we sat down to it, +eight o'clock; and there was a good deal of feasting and plenty of wine. +The doctor was called out afterwards to a patient several miles distant, +and George Gordon made some punch; which rendered none of our heads the +steadier. At least I can answer for mine: I was weak with the long +illness, and not much of a drinker at any time. There was a great deal of +nonsense going on, and Gordon pretended to marry me to Agnes. He said or +read (I can't tell which, and never knew then) some words mockingly out +of the prayer-book, and said we were man and wife. Whilst we were all +laughing at the joke, the doctor's old housekeeper came in, to see what +the noise was about, and I, by way of keeping it up, took Agnes by the +hand, and introduced her as Mrs. Elster. I did not understand the woman's +look of astonishment then; unfortunately, I have understood it too well +since." + +Anne was growing painfully interested. + +"Well, after that she threw herself upon me in a manner that--that was +extraordinary to me, not having the key to it; and I--lost my head. Don't +frown, Anne; ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have lost theirs; and +you'll say so if ever I give you the details. Of course blame attached to +me; to me, and not to her. Though at the time I mentally gave her, I +assure you, her full share, somewhat after the manner of the Pharisee +condemning the publican. That also has come home to me: she believed +herself to be legally my wife; I never gave a thought to that evening's +farce, and should have supposed its bearing any meaning a simple +impossibility. + +"A short time, and letters summoned me home; my mother was dangerously +ill. I remember Agnes asked me to take her with me, and I laughed at her. +I arranged to write to her, and promised to go back shortly--which, to +tell you the truth, I never meant to do. Having been mistaking her, +mistaking her still, I really thought her worthy of very little +consideration. Before I had been at home a fortnight I received a letter +from Dr. Mair, telling me that Agnes was showing symptoms of insanity, +and asking what provision I purposed making for her. My sin was finding +me out; I wondered how _he_ had found it out; I did not ask, and did not +know for years. I wrote back saying I would willingly take all expenses +upon myself; and inquired what sum would be required by the asylum--to +which he said she must be sent. He mentioned two hundred a-year, and from +that time I paid it regularly." + +"And was she really insane?" interrupted Lady Hartledon. + +"Yes; she had been so once or twice before--and this was what the +housekeeper had meant by saying she was with the doctor that her health +might be watched. It appeared that when these symptoms came on, after I +left, Gordon took upon himself to disclose to the doctor that Agnes was +married to me, telling the circumstances as they had occurred. Dr. Mair +got frightened: it was no light matter for the son of an English peer to +have been deluded into marriage with an obscure and insane girl; and the +quarrel that took place between him and Gordon on the occasion resulted +in the latter's leaving. I have never understood Gordon's conduct in the +matter: very disagreeable thoughts in regard to it come over me +sometimes." + +"What thoughts?" + +"Oh, never mind; they can never be set at rest now. Let me make short +work of this story. I heard no more and thought no more; and the years +went on, and then came my marriage with Maude. We went to Paris--_you_ +cannot have forgotten any of the details of that period, Anne; and after +our return to London I was surprised by a visit from Dr. Mair. That +evening, that visit and its details stamped themselves on my memory for +ever in characters of living fire." + +He paused for a moment, and something like a shiver seized him. Anne said +nothing. + +"Maude had gone with some friends to a fête at Chiswick, and Thomas Carr +was dining with me. Hedges came in and said a gentleman wanted to see +me--_would_ see me, and would not be denied. I went to him, and found it +was Dr. Mair. In that interview I learnt that by the laws of Scotland +Miss Waterlow was my wife." + +"And the suspicion that she was so had never occurred to you before?" + +"Anne! Should I have been capable of marrying Maude, or any one else, if +it had? On my solemn word of honour, before Heaven"--he raised his right +hand as if to give effect to his words--"such a thought had never crossed +my brain. The evening that the nonsense took place I only regarded it as +a jest, a pastime--what you will: had any one told me it was a marriage I +should have laughed at them. I knew nothing then of the laws of Scotland, +and should have thought it simply impossible that that minute's folly, +and my calling her, to keep up the joke, Mrs. Elster, could have +constituted a marriage. I think they all played a deep part, even Agnes. +Not a soul had so much as hinted at the word 'marriage' to me after that +evening; neither Gordon, nor she, nor Dr. Mair in his subsequent +correspondence; and in that he always called her 'Agnes.' However--he +then told me that she was certainly my legal wife, and that Lady Maude +was not. + +"At first," continued Val, "I did not believe it; but Dr. Mair persisted +he was right, and the horror of the situation grew upon me. I told all to +Carr, and took him up to Dr. Mair. They discussed Scottish law and +consulted law-books; and the truth, so far, became apparent. Dr. Mair was +sorry for me; he saw I had not erred knowingly in marrying Maude. As to +myself, I was helpless, prostrated. I asked the doctor, if it were really +true, why the fact had been kept from me: he replied that he supposed I +knew it, and that delicacy alone had caused him to abstain from alluding +to it in his letters. He had been very angry when Gordon told him, he +said; grew half frightened as to consequences; feared he should get into +trouble for allowing me to be so entrapped in his house; and he and +Gordon parted at once. And then Dr. Mair asked a question which I could +not very well answer, why, if I did not know she was my wife, I had paid +so large a sum for Agnes. He had been burying the affair in silence, as +he had assumed I was doing; and it was only the announcement of my +marriage with Maude in the newspapers that aroused him. He had thought +I was acting this bad part deliberately; and he went off at once to +Hartledon in anger; found I had gone abroad; and now came to me on my +return, still in anger, saying at first that he should proceed against +me, and obtain justice for Agnes. When he found how utterly ignorant of +wrong I had been, his tone changed; he was truly grieved and concerned +for me. Nothing was decided: except that Dr. Mair, in his compassion +towards Lady Maude, promised not to be the first to take legal steps. +It seemed that there was only him to fear: George Gordon was reported +to have gone to Australia; the old housekeeper was dead; Agnes was +deranged. Dr. Mair left, and Carr and I sat on till midnight. Carr took +what I thought a harsh view of the matter; he urged me to separate from +Maude--" + +"I think you should have done so for her sake," came the gentle +interruption. + +"For her sake! the words Carr used. But, Anne, surely there were two +sides to the question. If I disclosed the facts, and put her away from +me, what was she? Besides, the law might be against me--Scotland's +iniquitous law; but in Heaven's sight _Maude_ was my wife, not the other. +So I temporized, hoping that time might bring about a relief, for Dr. +Mair told me that Miss Waterlow's health was failing. However, she +lived on, and--" + +Lady Hartledon started up, her face blanching. + +"Is she not dead now? Was she living when you married me? Am _I_ your +wife?" + +He could hardly help smiling. His calm touch reassured her. + +"Do you think you need ask, Anne? The next year Dr. Mair called upon me +again--it was the evening before the boy was christened; he had come to +London on business of his own. To my dismay, he told me that a change for +the better was appearing in Miss Waterlow's mental condition; and he +thought it likely she might be restored to health. Of course, it +increased the perplexities and my horror, had that been needed; but the +hope or fear, or what you like to call it, was not borne out. Three years +later, the doctor came to me for the third and final time, to bring me +the news that Agnes was dead." + +As the relief had been to him then, so did it almost seem now to Anne. A +sigh of infinite pain broke from her. She had not seen where all this was +tending. + +"Imagine, if you can, what it was for me all those years with the +knowledge daily and nightly upon me that the disgraceful truth might at +any moment come out to Maude--to her children, to the world! Living in +the dread of arrest myself, should the man Gordon show himself on the +scene! And now you see what it is that has marred my peace, and broken +the happiness of our married life. How could I bear to cross those two +deeply-injured children, who were ever rising up in judgment against me? +How take our children's part against them, little unconscious things? It +seemed that I had always, daily, hourly, some wrong to make up to them. +The poor boy was heir to Hartledon in the eyes of the world; but, Anne, +your boy was the true heir." + +"Why did you not tell me?--all this time!" + +"I could not. I dared not. You might not have liked to put Reginald out +of his rights." + +"Oh, Percival; how can you so misjudge me?" she asked, in tones of pain. +"I would have guarded the secret as jealously as you. I must still do it +for Maude." + +"Poor Maude!" he sighed. "Her mother forgave me before she died--" + +"She knew it, then?" + +"Yes. She learned--" + +Sounds of drumming on the door, and the countess-dowager's voice, stopped +Lord Hartledon. + +"I had better face her," he said, as he unlocked it. "She will arouse the +household." + +Wild, intemperate, she met him with a volley of abuse that startled Lady +Hartledon. He got her to a sofa, and gently held her down there. + +"It's what I've been obliged to do all along," said Thomas Carr; "I don't +believe she has heard ten words of my explanation." + +"Pray be calm, Lady Kirton," said Hartledon, soothingly; "be calm, as you +value your daughter's memory. We shall have the servants at the doors." + +"I won't be calm; I will know the worst." + +"I wish you to know it; but not others." + +"Was Maude your wife?" + +"No," he answered, in low tones. "Not--" + +"And you are not ashamed to confess it?" she interrupted, not allowing +him to continue. But she was a little calmer in manner; and Val stood +upright before her with folded arms. + +"I am ashamed and grieved to confess it; but I did not knowingly inflict +the injury. In Scotland--" + +"Don't repeat the shameful tale," she cried; "I have heard from your +confederate, Carr, as much as I want to hear. What do you deserve for +your treachery to Maude?" + +"All I have reaped--and more. But it was not intentional treachery; and +Maude forgave me before she died." + +"She knew it! You told her? Oh, you cruel monster!" + +"I did not tell her. She did as you have just done--interfered in what +did not concern her, in direct disobedience to my desire; and she found +it out for herself, as you, ma'am, have found it out." + +"When?" + +"The winter before her death." + +"Then the knowledge killed her!" + +"No. Something else killed her, as you know. It preyed upon her spirits." + +"Lord Hartledon, I can have you up for fraud and forgery, and I'll do it. +It will be the consideration of Maude's fame against your punishment, and +I'll make a sacrifice to revenge, and prosecute you." + +"There is no fraud where an offence is committed unwittingly," returned +Lord Hartledon; "and forgery is certainly not amongst my catalogue of +sins." + +"You are liable for both," suddenly retorted the dowager; "you have stuck +up 'Maude, Countess of Hartledon,' on her monument in the church; and +what's that but fraud and forgery?" + +"It is neither. If Maude did not live Countess of Hartledon, she at least +so went to her grave. We were remarried, privately, before she died. Mr. +Carr can tell you so." + +"It's false!" raved the dowager. + +"I arranged it, ma'am," interposed Mr. Carr. "Lord Hartledon and your +daughter confided the management to me, and the ceremony was performed in +secrecy in London" + +The dowager looked from one to the other, as if she were bewildered. + +"Married her again! why, that was making bad worse. Two false marriages! +Did you do it to impose upon her?" + +"I see you do not understand," said Lord Hartledon. "The--my--the person +in Scotland was dead then. She was dead, I am thankful to say, before +Maude knew anything of the affair." + +Up started the dowager. "Then is the woman dead now? was she dead when +you married _her_?" laying her hand upon Lady Hartledon's arm. "Are her +children different from Maude's?" + +"They are. It could not be otherwise." + +"Her boy is really Lord Elster?" + +She flung Lady Hartledon's arm from her. Her voice rose to a shriek. + +"Maude is not Lady Maude?" + +Val shook his head sadly. + +"And your children are lords and ladies and honourables," darting a look +of consternation at Anne, "whilst my daughter's--" + +"Peace, Lady Kirton!" sternly interrupted Val. "Let the child, Maude, be +Lady Maude still to the world; let your daughter's memory be held sacred. +The facts need never come out: I do not fear now that they ever will. I +and my wife and Thomas Carr, will guard the secret safely: take you care +to do so." + +"I wish you had been hung before you married Maude!" responded the +aggrieved dowager. + +"I wish I had," said he. + +"Ugh!" she grunted wrathfully, the ready assent not pleasing her. + +"With my poor boy's death the chief difficulty has passed away. How +things would have turned out, or what would have been done, had he lived, +it has well-nigh worn away my brain to dwell upon. Carr knows that it has +nearly killed me: my wife knows it." + +"Yes, you could tell her things, and keep the diabolical secret from poor +Maude and from me," she returned, rather inconsistently. "I don't doubt +you and your wife have exulted enough over it." + +"I never knew it until to-night," said Anne, gently turning to the +dowager. "It has grieved me deeply. I shall never cease to feel for your +daughter's wrongs; and it will only make me more tender and loving to her +child. The world will never know that she is not Lady Maude." + +"And the other name--Elster--because you know she has no right to it," +was the spiteful retort. "I wish to my heart you had been drowned in your +brother's place, Lord Hartledon; I wished it at the time." + +"I know you did." + +"You could not then have made fools of me and my dear daughter; and the +darling little cherub in the churchyard would have been the real heir. +There'd have been a good riddance of you." + +"It might have been better for me in the long run," said he, quietly, +passing over the inconsistencies of her speech. "Little peace or +happiness have I had in living. Do not let us recriminate, Lady Kirton, +or on some scores I might reproach you. Maude loved my brother, and you +knew it; I loved Miss Ashton, and you knew that; yet from the very hour +the breath was out of my brother's body you laid your plans and began +your schemes upon me. I was weak as water in your hands, and fell into +the snare. The marriage was your work entirely; and in the fruits it has +brought forth there might arise a nice question, Lady Kirton, which of us +is most to blame: I, who erred unwittingly, or you who--" + +"Will you have done?" she cried. + +"I have nearly done. I only wish you to remember that others may have +been wrong, as well as myself. Dr. Ashton warned us that night that the +marriage might not bring a blessing. Anne, it was a cruel wrong upon +you," he added, impulsively turning to her; "you felt it bitterly, I +shamefully; but, my dear wife, you have lived to see that it was in +reality a mercy in disguise." + +The countess-dowager, not finding words strong enough to express her +feelings at this, made a grimace at him. + +"Let us be friends, Lady Kirton! Let us join together silently in +guarding Maude's good name, and in burying the past. In time perhaps even +I may live it down. Not a human being knows of it except we who are here +and Dr. Mair, who will for his own sake guard the secret. Maude was my +wife always in the eyes of the world; and Maude certainly died so: all +peace and respect to her memory! As for my share, retribution has held +its heavy hand upon me; it is upon me still, Heaven knows. It was for +Maude I suffered; for Maude I felt; and if my life could have repaired +the wrong upon her, I would willingly have sacrificed it. Let us be +friends: it may be to the interest of both." + +He held out his hand, and the dowager did not repulse it. She had caught +the word "interest." + +"_Now_ you might allow me Maude and that income!" + +"I think I had better allow you the income without Maude." + +"Eh? what?" cried the dowager, briskly. "Do you mean it?" + +"Indeed I do. I have been thinking for some little time that you would be +more comfortable in a home of your own, and I am willing to help you to +one. I'll pay the rent of a nice little place in Ireland, and give you +six hundred a-year, paid quarterly, and--yes--make you a yearly present +of ten dozen of port wine." + +Ah, the crafty man! The last item had a golden sound in it. + +"Honour bright, Hartledon?" + +"Honour bright! You shall never want for anything as long as you live. +But you must not"--he seemed to search for his words--"you must undertake +not to come here, upsetting and indulging the children." + +"I'll undertake it. Good vintage, mind." + +"The same that you have here." + +The countess-dowager beamed. In the midst of her happiness--and it was +what she had not felt for many a long day, for really the poor old +creature had been put about sadly--she bethought herself of propriety. +Melting into tears, she presently bewailed her exhaustion, and said she +should like some tea: perhaps good Mr. Carr would bring her a teaspoonful +of brandy to put into it. + +They brought her hot tea, and Mr. Carr put the brandy into it, and +Anne took it to her on the sofa, and administered it, her own tears +overflowing. She was thinking what an awful blow this would have been +to her own mother. + +"Little Maude shall be very dear to me always, Val," she whispered. "This +knowledge will make me doubly tender with her." + +He laid his hand fondly upon her, giving her one of his sweet sad smiles +in answer. She could at length understand what feelings, in regard to the +children, had actuated him. But from henceforth he would be just to all +alike; and Maude would receive her share of correction for her own good. + +"I always said you did not give me back the letter," observed Mr. Carr, +when they were alone together later, and Val sat tearing up the letter +into innumerable bits. + +"And I said I did, simply because I could not find it. You were right, +Carr, as you always are." + +"Not always. But I am sorry it came to light in this way." + +"Sorry! it is the greatest boon that could have fallen on me. The secret +is, so to say, off my mind now, and I can breathe as I have not breathed +for years. If ever a heartfelt thanksgiving went up to Heaven one from me +will ascend to-night. And the dowager does not feel the past a bit. She +cared no more for Maude than for any one else. She can't care for any +one. Don't think me harsh, Carr, in saying so." + +"I am sure she does not feel it," emphatically assented Mr. Carr. "Had +she felt it she would have been less noisy. Thank heaven for your sake, +Hartledon, that the miserable past is over." + +"And over more happily than I deserved." + +A silence ensued, and Lord Hartledon flung the bits of paper carefully +into the fire. Presently he looked up, a strange earnestness in his face. + +"It is the custom of some of our cottagers here to hang up embossed cards +at the foot of their bed, with texts of Scripture written on them. There +is one verse I should like to hang before every son of mine, though I had +ten of them, that it might meet their eyes last ere the evening's +sleeping, in the morning's first awakening. The ninth verse of the +eleventh chapter of Ecclesiastes." + +"I don't remember," observed Thomas Carr, after a pause of thought. + +"'Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth: and let thy heart cheer thee in the +days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight +of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring +thee into judgment.'" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Elster's Folly, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSTER'S FOLLY *** + +***** This file should be named 16798-8.txt or 16798-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/9/16798/ + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Elster's Folly + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: October 4, 2005 [EBook #16798] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSTER'S FOLLY *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>ELSTER'S FOLLY</h1> + +<h3>A NOVEL BY</h3> + +<h2>MRS. HENRY WOOD</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," "JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC.</h3> + +<h3>1916</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.--By the Early Train</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.--Willy Gum</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.--Anne Ashton</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.--The Countess-Dowager</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.--Jealousy</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.--At the Bridge</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.--Listeners</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.--The Wager Boats</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.--Waiting for Dinner</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.--Mr. Pike's Visit</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.--The Inquest</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.--Later in the Day</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.--Fever</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.--Another Patient</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.--Val's Dilemma</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.--Between the Two</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.--An Agreeable Wedding</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.--The Stranger</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.--A Chance Meeting</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.--The Stranger Again</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.--Secret Care</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.--Asking the Rector</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.--Mr. Carr at Work</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.--Somebody Else at Work</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.--At Hartledon</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.--Under the Trees</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.--A Tête-à-Tête Breakfast</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.--Once More</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.--Cross-questioning Mr. Carr</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.--Maude's Disobedience</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.--The Sword Slipped</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.--In the Park</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.--Coming Home</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.--Mr. Pike on the Wing</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.--The Shed Razed</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.--The Dowager's Alarm</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.--A Painful Scene</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.--Explanations</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ELSTERS_FOLLY" id="ELSTERS_FOLLY"></a>ELSTER'S FOLLY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>BY THE EARLY TRAIN.</h3> + + +<p>The ascending sun threw its slanting rays abroad on a glorious August +morning, and the little world below began to awaken into life—the life +of another day of sanguine pleasure or of fretting care.</p> + +<p>Not on many fairer scenes did those sunbeams shed their radiance than on +one existing in the heart of England; but almost any landscape will look +beautiful in the early light of a summer's morning. The county, one of +the midlands, was justly celebrated for its scenery; its rich woods and +smiling plains, its river and gentler streams. The harvest was nearly +gathered in—it had been a late season—but a few fields of golden grain, +in process of reaping, gave their warm tints to the landscape. In no part +of the country had the beauties of nature been bestowed more lavishly +than on this, the village of Calne, situated about seven miles from the +county town.</p> + +<p>It was an aristocratic village, on the whole. The fine seat of the Earl +of Hartledon, rising near it, had caused a few families of note to settle +there, and the nest of white villas gave the place a prosperous and +picturesque appearance. But it contained a full proportion of the poor or +labouring class; and these people were falling very much into the habit +of writing the village "Cawn," in accordance with its pronunciation. +Phonetic spelling was more in their line than Johnson's Dictionary. Of +what may be called the middle class the village held few, if any: there +were the gentry, the small shopkeepers, and the poor.</p> + +<p>Calne had recently been exalted into importance. A year or two before +this bright August morning some good genius had brought a railway to +it—a railway and a station, with all its accompanying work and bustle. +Many trains passed it in the course of the day; for it was in the direct +line of route from the county town, Garchester, to London, and the +traffic was increasing. People wondered what travellers had done, and +what sort of a round they traversed, before this direct line was made.</p> + +<p>The village itself lay somewhat in a hollow, the ground rising to a +gentle eminence on either side. On the one eminence, to the west, was +situated the station; on the other, eastward, rose the large stone +mansion, Hartledon House. The railway took a slight <i>détour</i> outside +Calne, and was a conspicuous feature to any who chose to look at it; for +the line had been raised above the village hollow to correspond with the +height at either end.</p> + +<p>Six o'clock was close at hand, and the station began to show signs of +life. The station-master came out of his cottage, and opened one or two +doors on the platform. He had held the office scarcely a year yet; and +had come a stranger to Calne. Sitting down in his little bureau of a +place, on the door of which was inscribed "Station-master—Private," he +began sorting papers on the desk before him. A few minutes, and the clock +struck six; upon which he went out to the platform. It was an open +station, as these small stations generally are, the small waiting-rooms +and offices on either side scarcely obstructing the view of the country, +and the station-master looked far out in the distance, towards the east, +beyond the low-lying village houses, shading his eyes with his hand from +the dazzling sun.</p> + +<p>"Her's late this morning."</p> + +<p>The interruption came from the surly porter, who stood by, and referred +to the expected train, which ought to have been in some minutes before. +According to the precise time, as laid down in the way-bills, it should +reach Calne seven minutes before six.</p> + +<p>"They have a heavy load, perhaps," remarked the station-master.</p> + +<p>The train was chiefly for goods; a slow train, taking no one knew how +many hours to travel from London. It would bring passengers also; but +very few availed themselves of it. Now and then it happened that the +station at Calne was opened for nothing; the train just slackened its +speed and went on, leaving neither goods nor anything else behind it. +Sometimes it took a few early travellers from Calne to Garchester; +especially on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Garchester market-days; but it +rarely left passengers at Calne.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear the news, Mr. Markham?" asked the porter.</p> + +<p>"What news?" returned the station-master.</p> + +<p>"I heard it last night. Jim come into the Elster Arms with it, and <i>he'd</i> +heard it at Garchester. We are going to have two more sets o' telegraph +wires here. I wonder how much more work they'll give us to do?"</p> + +<p>"So you were at the Elster Arms again last night, Jones?" remarked the +station-master, his tone reproving, whilst he passed over in silence Mr. +Jones's item of news.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't in above an hour," grumbled the man.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is your own look-out, Jones. I have said what I could to you at +odd times; but I believe it has only tried your patience; so I'll say no +more."</p> + +<p>"Has my wife been here again complaining?" asked the man, raising his +face in anger.</p> + +<p>"No; I have not seen your wife, except at church, these two months. But +I know what public-houses are to you, and I was thinking of your little +children."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" growled the man, apparently not gratified at the reminder of his +flock; "there's a peck o' <i>them</i> surely! Here she comes!"</p> + +<p>The last sentence was spoken in a different tone; one of relief, either +at getting rid of the subject, or at the arrival of the train. It was +about opposite to Hartledon when he caught sight of it, and it came on +with a shrill whistle, skirting the village it towered above; a long line +of covered waggons with a passenger carriage or two attached to them. +Slackening its pace gradually, but not in time, it shot past the station, +and had to back into it again.</p> + +<p>The guard came out of his box and opened the door of one of the +carriages—a dirty-looking second-class compartment; the other was a +third-class; and a gentleman leaped out. A tall, slender man of about +four-and-twenty; a man evidently of birth and breeding. He wore a light +summer overcoat on his well-cut clothes, and had a most attractive face.</p> + +<p>"Is there any law against putting on a first-class carriage to this +night-train?" he asked the guard in a pleasing voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, we never get first-class passengers by it," replied the man; +"or hardly any passengers at all, for the matter of that. We are too long +on the road for passengers to come by us."</p> + +<p>"It might happen, though," returned the traveller, significantly. "At +any rate, I suppose there's no law against your carriages being clean, +whatever their class. Look at that one."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the one he had just left, as he walked up to the +station-master. The guard looked cross, and gave the carriage door +a slam.</p> + +<p>"Was a portmanteau left here last night by the last train from London?" +inquired the traveller of the station-master.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; nothing was left here. At least, I think not. Any name on it, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Elster."</p> + +<p>A quick glance from the station-master's eyes met the answer. Elster was +the name of the family at Hartledon. He wondered whether this could be +one of them, or whether the name was merely a coincidence.</p> + +<p>"There was no portmanteau left, was there, Jones?" asked the +station-master.</p> + +<p>"There couldn't have been," returned the porter, touching his cap to the +stranger. "I wasn't on last night; Jim was; but it would have been put in +the office for sure; and there's not a ghost of a thing in it this +morning."</p> + +<p>"It must have been taken on to Garchester," remarked the traveller; and, +turning to the guard, he gave him directions to look after it, and +despatch it back again by the first train, slipping at the same time a +gratuity into his hand.</p> + +<p>The guard touched his hat humbly; he now knew who the gentleman was. And +he went into inward repentance for slamming the carriage-door, as he got +into his box, and the engine and train puffed on.</p> + +<p>"You'll send it up as soon as it comes," said the traveller to the +station-master.</p> + +<p>"Where to, sir?"</p> + +<p>The stranger raised his eyes in slight surprise, and pointed to the house +in the distance. He had assumed that he was known.</p> + +<p>"To Hartledon."</p> + +<p>Then he <i>was</i> one of the family! The station-master touched his hat. +Mr. Jones, in the background, touched his, and for the first time the +traveller's eye fell upon him as he was turning to leave the platform.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jones! It's never you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is, sir." But Mr. Jones looked abashed as he acknowledged +himself. And it may be observed that his language, when addressing this +gentleman, was a slight improvement upon the homely phraseology of his +everyday life.</p> + +<p>"But—you are surely not working here!—a porter!"</p> + +<p>"My business fell through, sir," returned the man. "I'm here till I can +turn myself round, sir, and get into it again."</p> + +<p>"What caused it to fall through?" asked the traveller; a kindly sympathy +in his fine blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones shuffled upon one foot. He would not have given the true +answer—"Drinking"—for the world.</p> + +<p>"There's such opposition started up in the place, sir; folks would draw +your heart's blood from you if they could. And then I've such a lot of +mouths to feed. I can't think what the plague such a tribe of children +come for. Nobody wants 'em."</p> + +<p>The traveller laughed; but put no further questions. Remembering somewhat +of Mr. Jones's propensity in the old days, he thought perhaps something +besides children and opposition had had to do with the downfall. He stood +for a moment looking at the station which had not been completed when he +last saw it—and a very pretty station it was, surrounded by its gay +flowerbeds—and then went down the road.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is one of the Hartledon family, Jones?" said the +station-master, looking after him.</p> + +<p>"He's the earl's brother," replied Mr. Jones, relapsing into sulkiness. +"There's only them two left; t'other died. Wonder if they be coming to +Hartledon again? Calne haven't seemed the same since they left it."</p> + +<p>"Which is this one?"</p> + +<p>"He can't be anybody but himself," retorted Mr. Jones, irascibly, deeming +the question superfluous. "There be but the two left, I say—the earl and +him; everybody knows him for the Honourable Percival Elster. The other +son, George, died; leastways, was murdered."</p> + +<p>"Murdered!" echoed the station-master aghast.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it could be called much else but murder," was Mr. +Jones's answer. "He went out with my lord's gamekeepers one night and +got shot in a poaching fray. 'Twas never known for certain who fired the +shot, but I think I could put my finger on the man if I tried. Much good +<i>that</i> would do, though! There's no proof."</p> + +<p>"What are you saying, Jones?" cried the station-master, staring at his +subordinate, and perhaps wondering whether he had already that morning +paid a visit to the tap of the Elster Arms.</p> + +<p>"I'm saying nothing that half the place didn't say at the time, Mr. +Markham. <i>You</i> hadn't come here then, Mr. Elster—he was the Honourable +George—went out one night with the keepers when warm work was expected, +and got shot for his pains. He lived some weeks, but they couldn't cure +him. It was in the late lord's time. <i>He</i> died soon after, and the place +has been deserted ever since."</p> + +<p>"And who do you suppose fired the shot?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know that it 'ud be safe to say," rejoined the man. "He might give +my neck a twist some dark night if he heard on't. He's the blackest sheep +we've got in Calne, sir."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean Pike," said the station-master. "He has the character +for being that, I believe. I've seen no harm in the man myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was Pike," said the porter. "That is, some of us suspected him. +And that's how Mr. George Elster came by his death. And this one, Mr. +Percival, shot up into notice, as being the only one left, except Lord +Elster."</p> + +<p>"And who's Lord Elster?" asked the station-master, not remembering to +have heard the title before.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones received the question with proper contempt. Having been +familiar with Hartledon and its inmates all his life, he had as little +compassion for those who were not so, as he would have had for a man who +did not understand that Garchester was in England.</p> + +<p>"The present Earl of Hartledon," said he, shortly. "In his father's +lifetime—and the old lord lived to see Mr. George buried—he was Lord +Elster. Not one of my tribe of brats but could tell that any Lord Elster +must be the eldest son of the Earl of Hartledon," he concluded with a +fling at his superior.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, I have had other 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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 +<i>attaché</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Good morning to your lordship!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"If she only knew I was here!" he fondly aspirated.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Jabez is as shadowy as ever?" thought Mr. Elster, as he +walked on.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Who on earth has been adding that to it?" exclaimed Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>The woman of the lodge, hearing footsteps, came to her door with hasty +words.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Law, sir! <i>You!</i> Mercy be good to us!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"<i>Is</i> it a chimney, Mrs. Capper?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Who is 'Pike'?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Does he work for his living?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Mention anything," replied Mr. Elster. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"He is not known to a soul. He came here a stranger."</p> + +<p>"But—he was not here when I left home. And I left it, you may remember, +only a few days before that night."</p> + +<p>"He must have come here at that very time, sir; just as you left."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mirrable! I thought I should find you up."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Percival! Is it your ghost, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I think it's myself, Mirrable."</p> + +<p>"My goodness! But, sir, how did you get here?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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 with his mother.</p> + +<p>"Did Capper see you as you came by, sir? Wouldn't she be struck!"</p> + +<p>"Nearly into stone," he laughed.</p> + +<p>Mirrable disappeared for a minute or two, and came back with a silver +coffee-pot in her hand. The name of the lodge-keeper had brought to his +remembrance the unpleasant hint she mentioned, and he spoke of it +impulsively—as he did most things.</p> + +<p>"Mirrable, what man is it they call Pike, who has taken possession of +that old shed?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know, sir," answered Mirrable, after a pause, which Mr. +Elster thought was involuntary; for she was busy at the moment rubbing +the coffee-pot with some wash-leather, her head and face bent over it, as +she stood with her back to him. He slipped off the table, and went up to +her.</p> + +<p>"I saw smoke rising from the shed, and asked Capper what it meant, and +she told me about this man Pike. Pike! It's a curious name."</p> + +<p>Mirrable rubbed away, never answering.</p> + +<p>"Capper said he had been suspected of firing the shot that killed my +brother," he continued, in low tones. "Did <i>you</i> ever hear of such a +hint, Mirrable?"</p> + +<p>Mirrable darted off to the fireplace, and began stirring the milk lest it +should boil over. Her face was almost buried in the saucepan, or Mr. +Elster might have seen the sudden change that came over it; the thin +cheeks that had flushed crimson, and now were deadly white. Lifting the +saucepan on to the hob, she turned to Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe any such nonsense, sir," she said, in tones of strange +emphasis. "It was no more Pike than it was me. The man keeps himself to +himself, and troubles nobody; and for that very reason idle folk carp at +him, like the mischief-making idiots they are!"</p> + +<p>"I thought there was nothing in it," remarked Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>sure</i> there isn't," said Mirrable, conclusively. "Would you like +some broiled ham, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I should like anything good and substantial, for I'm as hungry as +a hunter. But, Mirrable, you don't ask what has brought me here so +suddenly."</p> + +<p>The tone was significant, and Mirrable looked at him. There was a spice +of mischief in his laughing blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"I come on a mission to you; an avant-courier from his lordship, to +charge you to have all things in readiness. To-morrow you will receive +a houseful of company; more than Hartledon will hold."</p> + +<p>Mirrable looked aghast. "It is one of your jokes, Mr. Val!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is the truth. My brother will be down with a trainful; and +desires that everything shall be ready for their reception."</p> + +<p>"My patience!" gasped Mirrable. "And the servants, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Most of them will be here to-night. The Countess-Dowager of Kirton is +coming as Hartledon's mistress for the time being."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mirrable, who had once had the honour of seeing the +Countess-Dowager of Kirton. And the monosyllable was so significant +that Val Elster drew down the corners of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I don't like the Countess-Dowager, sir," remarked Mirrable in her +freedom.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear her," returned Val Elster.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>WILLY GUM.</h3> + + +<p>Had Percival Elster lingered ever so short a time near the clerk's house +that morning he would have met that functionary himself; for in less than +a minute after he had passed out of sight Jabez Gum's door opened, and +Jabez Gum glided out of it.</p> + +<p>It is a term chiefly applied to ghosts; but Mr. Gum was a great deal more +like a ghost than like a man. He was remarkably tall and thin; a very +shadow; with a white shadow of a face, and a nose that might have served +as a model for a mask in a carnival of guys. A sharp nose, twice the +length and half the breadth of any ordinary nose—a very ferret of a +nose; its sharp tip standing straight out into the air. People said, with +such a nose Mr. Gum ought to have a great deal of curiosity. And they +were right; he <i>had</i> a great deal in a quiet way.</p> + +<p>A most respectable man was Mr. Gum, and he prided himself upon it. Mr. +Gum—more often called Clerk Gum in the village—had never done a wrong +thing in his life, or fallen into a scrape. He had been altogether a +pattern to Calne in general, and to its black sheep in particular. Dr. +Ashton himself could not have had less brought against him than Clerk +Gum; and it would just have broken Mr. Gum's heart had his good name been +tarnished in ever so slight a degree. Perhaps no man living had been born +with a larger share of self-esteem than Jabez Gum. Clerk of the parish +longer than Dr. Ashton had been its Rector, Jabez Gum had lived at his +ease in a pecuniary point of view. It was one of those parishes (I think +few of them remain now) where the clerk's emoluments are large. He also +held other offices; was an agent for one or two companies, and was looked +upon as an exceedingly substantial man for his station in life. Perhaps +he was less so than people imagined. The old saying is all too true: +"Nobody knows where the shoe pinches but he who wears it."</p> + +<p>Jabez Gum had his thorn, as a great many more of us have ours, if the +outside world only knew it. And Jabez, at odd moments, when the thorn +pierced him very sharply, had been wont to compare his condition to St. +Paul's, and to wonder whether the pricks inflicted on that holy man could +have bled as his own did. He meant no irreverence when he thought this; +neither do I in writing it. We are generally wounded in the most +vulnerable spot about us, and Jabez Gum made no exception to the rule. He +had been assailed in his cherished respectability, his self-esteem. +Assailed and <i>scarred</i>. How broad and deep the scar was Jabez never told +the world, which as a rule does not sympathise with such scars, but turns +aside in its cruel indifference. The world had almost forgotten the scar +now, and supposed Clerk Gum had done the same. It was all over and done +with years ago.</p> + +<p>Jabez Gum's wife—to whom you will shortly have the honour of an +introduction, but she is in her bedroom just now—had borne him one +child, and only one. How this boy was loved, how tenderly reared, let +Calne tell you. Mrs. Gum had to endure no inconsiderable amount of +ridicule at the time from her gossiping friends, who gave Willy sundry +endearing names, applied in derision. Certainly, if any mother ever was +bound up in a child, Mrs. Gum was in hers. The boy was well brought up. A +good education was given him; and at the age of sixteen he went to London +and to fortune. The one was looked upon as a natural sequence to the +other. Some friend of Jabez Gum's had interested himself to procure the +lad's admission into one of the great banks as a junior clerk. He might +rise in time to be cashier, manager, even partner; who knew? Who knew +indeed? And Clerk Gum congratulated himself, and was more respectable +than ever.</p> + +<p>Better that Willy Gum had remained at Calne! And yet, and again—who +knew? When the propensity for ill-doing exists it is sure to come out, no +matter where. There were some people in Calne who could have told Clerk +Gum, even then, that Willy, for his age, was tolerably fast and forward. +Mrs. Gum had heard of one or two things that had caused her hair to rise +on end with horror; ay, and with apprehension; but, foolish mother that +she was, not a syllable did she breathe to the clerk; and no one else +ventured to tell him.</p> + +<p>She talked to Willy with many sighs and tears; implored him to be a good +boy and enter on good courses, not on bad ones that would break her +heart. Willy, the little scapegrace, was willing to promise anything. He +laughed and made light of it; it wasn't his fault if folks told stories +about him; she couldn't be so foolish as to give ear to them. London? Oh, +he should be all right in London! One or two fellows here were rather +fast, there was no denying it; and they drew him with them; they were +older than he, and ought to have known better. Once away from Calne, they +could have no more influence over him, and he should be all right.</p> + +<p>She believed him; putting faith in the plausible words. Oh, what trust +can be so pure, and at the same time so foolish, as that placed by a +mother in a beloved son! Mrs. Gum had never known but one idol on earth; +he who now stood before her, lightly laughing at her fears, making his +own tale good. She leaned forward and laid her hands upon his shoulders +and kissed him with that impassioned fervour that some mothers could tell +of, and whispered that she would trust him wholly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Willy extricated himself with as little impatience as he could help: +these embraces were not to his taste. And yet the boy did love his +mother. She was not at all a wise woman, or a clever one; rather silly, +indeed, in many things; but she was fond of him. At this period he was +young-looking for his age, slight, and rather undersized, with an +exceedingly light complexion, a wishy-washy sort of face with no colour +in it, unmeaning light eyes, white eyebrows, and ragged-looking light +hair with a tawny shade upon it.</p> + +<p>Willy Gum departed for London, and entered on his engagement in the great +banking-house of Goldsworthy and Co.</p> + +<p>How he went on in it Calne could not get to learn, though it was +moderately inquisitive upon the point. His father and mother heard from +him occasionally; and once the clerk took a sudden and rather mysterious +journey to London, where he stayed for a whole week. Rumour said—I +wonder where such rumours first have their rise—that Willy Gum had +fallen into some trouble, and the clerk had had to buy him out of it at +the cost of a mint of money. The clerk, however, did not confirm this; +and one thing was indisputable: Willy retained his place in the +banking-house. Some people looked on this fact as a complete refutation +of the rumour.</p> + +<p>Then came a lull. Nothing was heard of Willy; that is, nothing beyond the +reports of Mrs. Gum to her gossips when letters arrived: he was well, and +getting on well. It was only the lull that precedes a storm; and a storm +indeed burst on quiet Calne. Willy Gum had robbed the bank and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>In the first dreadful moment, perhaps the only one who did <i>not</i> +disbelieve it was Clerk Gum. Other people said there must be some +mistake: it could not be. Kind old Lord Hartledon came down in his +carriage to the clerk's house—he was too ill to walk—and sat with +the clerk and the weeping mother, and said he was sure it could not be +so bad as was reported. The next morning saw handbills—great, staring, +large-typed handbills—offering a reward for the discovery of William +Gum, posted all over Calne.</p> + +<p>Once more Clerk Gum went to London. What he did there no one knew. One +thing only was certain—he did not find Willy or any trace of him. The +defalcation was very nearly eight hundred pounds; and even if Mr. Gum +could have refunded that large sum, he might not do so, said Calne, for +of course the bank would not compound a felony. He came back looking ten +years older; his tall, thin form more shadowy, his nose longer and +sharper. Not a soul ventured to say a syllable to him, even of +condolence. He told Lord Hartledon and his Rector that no tidings +whatever could be gleaned of his unhappy son; the boy had disappeared, +and might be dead for all they knew to the contrary.</p> + +<p>So the handbills wore themselves out on the walls, serving no purpose, +until Lord Hartledon ordered them to be removed; and Mrs. Gum lived in +tears, and audibly wished herself dead. She had not seen her boy since he +quitted Calne, considerably more than two years before, and he was now +nearly nineteen. A few days' holiday had been accorded him by the +banking-house each Christmas; but the first Christmas Willy wrote word +that he had accepted an invitation to go home with a brother-clerk; the +second Christmas he said he could not obtain leave of absence—which Mrs. +Gum afterwards found was untrue; so that Willy Gum had not been at Calne +since he left it. And whenever his mother thought of him—and that was +every hour of the day and night—it was always as the fair, young, +light-haired boy, who seemed to her little more than a child.</p> + +<p>A year or so of uncertainty, of suspense, of wailing, and then came a +letter from Willy, cautiously sent. It was not addressed directly to Mrs. +Gum, to whom it was written, but to one of Willy's acquaintances in +London, who enclosed it in an envelope and forwarded it on.</p> + +<p>Such a letter! To read it one might have thought Mr. William Gum had gone +out under the most favourable auspices. He was in Australia; had gone up +to seek his fortune at the gold-diggings, and was making money rapidly. +In a short time he should refund with interest the little sum he had +borrowed from Goldsworthy and Co., and which was really not taken with +any ill intention, but was more an accident than anything else. After +that, he should accumulate money on his own score, and—all things being +made straight at home—return and settle down, a rich man for life. And +she—his mother—might rely on his keeping his word. At present he was at +Melbourne; to which place he and his mates had come to bring their +acquired gold, and to take a bit of a spree after their recent hard work. +He was very jolly, and after a week's holiday they should go back again. +And he hoped his father had overlooked the past; and he remained ever her +affectionate son, William Gum.</p> + +<p>The effect of this letter upon Mrs. Gum was as though a dense cloud had +suddenly lifted from the world, and given place to a flood of sunshine. +We estimate things by comparison. Mrs. Gum was by nature disposed to look +on the dark side of things, and she had for the whole year past been +indulging the most dread pictures of Willy and his fate that any woman's +mind ever conceived. To hear that he was in life, and well, and making +money rapidly, was the sweetest news, the greatest relief she could ever +experience in this world.</p> + +<p>Clerk Gum—relieved also, no doubt—received the tidings in a more sober +spirit; almost as if he did not dare to believe in them. The man's heart +had been well-nigh broken with the blow that fell upon him, and nothing +could ever heal it thoroughly again. He read the letter in silence; read +it twice over; and when his wife broke out into a series of rapt +congratulations, and reproached him mildly for not appearing to think +it true, he rather cynically inquired what then, if true, became of her +dreams.</p> + +<p>For Mrs. Gum was a dreamer. She was one of those who are now and again +visited by strange dreams, significant of the future. Poor Mrs. Gum +carried these dreams to an excess; that is, she was always having them +and always talking about them. It had been no wonder, with her mind in so +miserable a state regarding her son, that her dreams in that first +twelve-month had generally been of him and generally bad. The above +question, put by her husband, somewhat puzzled her. Her dreams <i>had</i> +foreshadowed great evil still to Willy; and her dreams had never been +wrong yet.</p> + +<p>But, in the enjoyment of positive good, who thinks of dreams? No one. And +Mrs. Gum's grew a shade brighter, and hope again took possession of her +heart.</p> + +<p>Two years rolled on, during which they heard twice from Willy; +satisfactory letters still, in a way. Both testified to his "jolly" +state: he was growing rich, though not quite so rapidly as he had +anticipated; a fellow had to spend so much! Every day he expected to pick +up a nugget which would crown his fortune. He complained in these letters +that he did not hear from home; not once had news reached him; had his +father and mother abandoned him?</p> + +<p>The question brought forth a gush of tears from Mrs. Gum, and a sharp +abuse of the post-office. The clerk took the news philosophically, +remarking that the wonder would have been had Willy received the letters, +seeing that he seemed to move about incessantly from place to place.</p> + +<p>Close upon this came another letter, written apparently in haste. Willy's +"fortune" had turned into reality at last; he was coming home with more +gold than he could count; had taken his berth in the good ship <i>Morning +Star</i>, and should come off at once to Calne, when the ship reached +Liverpool. There was a line written inside the envelope, as though he had +forgotten to include it in the letter: "I have had one from you at last; +the first you wrote, it seems. Thank dad for what he has done for me. +I'll make it all square with him when I get home."</p> + +<p>This had reference to a fact which Calne did not know. In that unhappy +second visit of Clerk Gum's to London, he <i>did</i> succeed in appeasing the +wrath of Goldsworthy and Co., and paid in every farthing of the money. +How far he might have accomplished this but for being backed by the +urgent influence of old Lord Hartledon, was a question. One thing was in +his favour: the firm had not taken any steps whatever in the matter, and +those handbills circulated at Calne were the result of a misapprehension +on the part of an officious local police-officer. Things had gone too far +for Goldsworthys graciously to condone the offence—and Clerk Gum paid in +his savings of years. This was the fact written by Mrs. Gum to her son, +which had called forth the line in the envelope.</p> + +<p>Alas! those were the last tidings ever received from Willy Gum. Whilst +Mrs. Gum lived in a state of ecstacy, showing the letter to her +neighbours and making loving preparations for his reception, the time for +the arrival of the <i>Morning Star</i> at Liverpool drew on, and passed, and +the ship did not arrive.</p> + +<p>A time of anxious suspense to all who had relations on board—for it was +supposed she had foundered at sea—and tidings came to them. An awful +tale; a tale of mutiny and wrong and bloodshed. Some of the loose +characters on board the ship—and she was bringing home such—had risen +in disorder within a month of their sailing from Melbourne; had killed +the captain, the chief officer, and some of the passengers and crew.</p> + +<p>The ringleader was a man named Gordon; who had incited the rest to the +crime, and killed the captain with his own hand. Obtaining command of the +ship, they put her about, and commenced a piratical raid. One vessel they +succeeded in disarming, despoiling, and then leaving her to her fate. But +the next vessel they attacked proved a more formidable enemy, and there +was a hand-to-hand struggle for the mastery, and for life or death. The +<i>Morning Star</i> was sunk, with the greater portion of her living freight. +A few, only some four or five, were saved by the other ship, and conveyed +to England.</p> + +<p>It was by them the dark tale was brought. The second officer of the +<i>Morning Star</i> was one of them; he had been compelled to dissemble and to +appear to serve the mutinous band; the others were innocent passengers, +whose lives had not been taken. All agreed in one thing: that Gordon, the +ringleader, had in all probability escaped. He had put off from the +<i>Morning Star</i>, when she was sinking, in one of her best boats; he and +some of his lawless helpmates, with a bag of biscuit, a cask of water, +and a few bottles that probably contained rum. Whether they succeeded in +reaching a port or in getting picked up, was a question; but it was +assumed they had done so.</p> + +<p>The owners of the <i>Morning Star</i>, half paralyzed at the news of so daring +and unusual an outrage, offered the large reward of five hundred pounds +for the capture of George Gordon; and Government increased the offer by +two hundred, making it seven in all.</p> + +<p>Overwhelming tidings for Clerk Gum and his wife! A brief season of +agonized suspense ensued for the poor mother; of hopes and fears as to +whether Willy was amongst the remnant saved; and then hope died away, for +he did not come.</p> + +<p>Once more, for the last time, Clerk Gum took a journey, not to London, +but to Liverpool. He succeeded in seeing the officer who had been +saved; but he could give him no information. He knew the names of the +first-class passengers, but only a few of the second-class; and in that +class Willy had most likely sailed.</p> + +<p>The clerk described his son; and the officer thought he remembered him: +he had a good deal of gold on board, he said. One of the passengers spoke +more positively. Yes, by Clerk Gum's description, he was sure Willy Gum +had been his fellow-passenger in the second cabin, though he did not +recollect whether he had heard his name. It seemed, looking back, that +the passengers had hardly had time to become acquainted with each other's +names, he added. He was sure it was the young man; of very light +complexion, ready and rather loose (if Mr. Gum would excuse his saying +so) in speech. He had made thoroughly good hauls of gold at the last, and +was going home to spend it. He was the second killed, poor fellow; had +risen up with a volley of oaths (excuses begged again) to defend the +captain, and was struck down and killed.</p> + +<p>Poor Jabez Gum gasped. <i>Killed?</i> was the gentleman <i>sure</i>? Quite sure; +and, moreover, he saw his body thrown overboard with the rest of the +dead. And the money—the gold? Jabez asked, when he had somewhat +recovered himself. The passenger laughed—not at the poor father, but at +the worse than useless question; gold and everything else on board the +<i>Morning Star</i> had gone down with her to the bottom of the sea.</p> + +<p>A species of savage impulse rose in the clerk's mind, replacing his first +emotion of grief; an impulse that might almost have led him to murder the +villain Gordon, could he have come across him. Was there a chance that +the man would be taken? he asked. Every chance, if he dared show his face +in England, the passenger answered. A reward of seven hundred pounds was +an inducement to the survivors to keep their eyes open; and they'd do it, +besides, without any reward. Moreover—if Gordon had escaped, his +comrades in the boat had escaped with him. They were lawless men like +himself, every one of them, and they would be sure to betray him when +they found what a price was set upon his capture.</p> + +<p>Clerk Gum returned home, bearing to his wife and Calne the final tidings +which crushed out all hope. Mrs. Gum sank into a state of wild despair. +At first it almost seemed to threaten loss of reason. Her son had been +her sole idol, and the idol was shattered. But to witness unreasonably +violent grief in others always has a counteracting effect on our own, +and Mr. Gum soothed his sorrow and brought philosophy to his aid.</p> + +<p>"Look you," said he, one day, sharply to his wife, when she was crying +and moaning, "there's two sides to every calamity,—a bright and a dark +'un;" for Mr. Gum was not in the habit of treating his wife, in the +privacy of their domestic circle, to the quality-speech kept for the +world. "He is gone, and we can't help it; we'd have welcomed him home if +we could, and killed the fatted calf, but it was God's will that it +shouldn't be. There may be a blessing in it, after all. Who knows but he +might have broke out again, and brought upon us what he did before, or +worse? For my part, I should never have been without the fear; night and +morning it would always have stood before me; not to be driven away. As +it is, I am at rest."</p> + +<p>She—the wife—took her apron from her eyes and looked at him with a sort +of amazed anger.</p> + +<p>"Gum! do you forget that he had left off his evil ways, and was coming +home to be a comfort to us?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't forget it," returned Mr. Gum. "But who was to say that the +mood would last? He might have got through his gold, however much it was, +and then—. As it is, Nance Gum, we can sleep quiet in our beds, free +from <i>that</i> fear."</p> + +<p>Clerk Gum was not, on the whole, a model of suavity in the domestic fold. +The first blow that had fallen upon him seemed to have affected his +temper; and his helpmate knew from experience that whenever he called her +"Nance" his mood was at its worst.</p> + +<p>Suppressing a sob, she spoke reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"It's my firm belief, Gum, and has been all along, that you cared more +for your good name among men than you did for the boy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I did," he answered, by way of retort. "At any rate, it might +have been better for him in the long-run if we—both you and me—hadn't +cared for him quite so foolishly in his childhood; we spared the rod and +we spoiled the child. That's over, and—"</p> + +<p>"It's <i>all</i> over," interrupted Mrs. Gum; "over for ever in this world. +Gum, you are very hard-hearted."</p> + +<p>"And," he continued, with composure, "we may hope now to live down in +time the blow he brought upon us, and hold up our heads again in the face +of Calne. We couldn't have done that while he lived."</p> + +<p>"We couldn't?"</p> + +<p>"No. Just dry up your useless tears, Nancy; and try to think that all's +for the best."</p> + +<p>But, metaphorically speaking, Mrs. Gum could not dry her tears. Nearly +two years had elapsed since the fatal event; and though she no longer +openly lamented, filling Calne with her cries and her faint but heartfelt +prayers for vengeance on the head of the cruel monster, George Gordon, as +she used to do at first, she had sunk into a despairing state of mind +that was by no means desirable: a startled, timid, superstitious woman, +frightened at every shadow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>ANNE ASHTON.</h3> + + +<p>Jabez Gum came out of his house in the bright summer morning, missing Mr. +Elster by one minute only. He went round to a small shed at the back of +the house and brought forth sundry garden-tools. The whole garden was +kept in order by himself, and no one had finer fruit and vegetables than +Clerk Gum. Hartledon might have been proud of them, and Dr. Ashton +sometimes accepted a dish with pleasure.</p> + +<p>In his present attire: dark trousers, and a short close jacket buttoned +up round him and generally worn when gardening, the worthy man might +decidedly have been taken for an animated lamp-post by any stranger who +happened to come that way. He was applying himself this morning, first to +the nailing of sundry choice fruit-trees against the wall that ran down +one side of his garden—a wall that had been built by the clerk himself +in happier days; and next, to plucking some green walnuts for his wife to +pickle. As he stood on tip-toe, his long thin body and long thin arms +stretched up to the walnut-tree, he might have made the fortune of any +travelling caravan that could have hired him. The few people who passed +him greeted him with a "Good morning," but he rarely turned his head in +answering them. Clerk Gum had grown somewhat taciturn of late years.</p> + +<p>The time went on. The clock struck a quarter-past seven, and Jabez Gum, +as he heard it, left the walnut-tree, walked to the gate, and leaned over +it; his face turned in the direction of the village. It was not the +wooden gate generally attached to smaller houses in rustic localities, +but a very pretty iron one; everything about the clerk's house being +of a superior order. Apparently, he was looking out for some one in +displeasure; and, indeed, he had not stood there a minute, when a girl +came flying down the road, and pushed the gate and the clerk back +together.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gum directed her attention to the church clock. "Do you see the time, +Rebecca Jones?"</p> + +<p>Had the pages of the church-register been visible as well as the clock, +Miss Rebecca Jones's age might have been seen to be fifteen; but, in +knowledge of the world and in impudence, she was considerably older.</p> + +<p>"Just gone seven and a quarter," answered she, making a feint of shading +her eyes with her hands, though the sun was behind her.</p> + +<p>"And what business have you to come at seven and a quarter? Half-past six +is your time; and, if you can't keep it, your missis shall get those that +can."</p> + +<p>"Why can't my missis let me stop at night and clear up the work?" +returned the girl. "She sends me away at six o'clock, as soon as I've +washed the tea-things, and oftentimes earlier than that. It stands to +reason I can't get through the work of a morning."</p> + +<p>"You could do so quite well if you came to time," said the clerk, turning +away to his walnut-tree. "Why don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I overslept myself this morning. Father never called me afore he went +out. No doubt he had a drop too much last night."</p> + +<p>She went flying up the gravel-path as she spoke. Her father was the man +Jones whom you saw at the railway station; her step-mother (for her own +mother was dead) was Mrs. Gum's cousin.</p> + +<p>She was a sort of stray sheep, this girl, in the eyes of Calne, not +belonging very much to any one; her father habitually neglected her, her +step-mother had twice turned her out of doors. Some three or four months +ago, when Mrs. Gum was changing her servant, she had consented to try +this girl. Jabez Gum knew nothing of the arrangement until it was +concluded, and disapproved of it. Altogether, it did not work +satisfactorily: Miss Jones was careless, idle, and impudent; her +step-mother was dissatisfied because she was not taken into the house; +and Clerk Gum threatened every day, and his wife very often, to dismiss +her.</p> + +<p>It was only within a year or two that they had not kept an indoor +servant; and the fact of their not doing so now puzzled the gossips of +Calne. The clerk's emoluments were the same as ever; there was no Willy +to encroach on them now; and the work of the house required a good +servant. However, it pleased Mrs. Gum to have one in only by day; and who +was to interfere with her if the clerk did not?</p> + +<p>Jabez Gum worked on for some little time after eight o'clock, the +breakfast-hour. He rather wondered he was not called to it, and +registered a mental vow to discharge Miss Becky. Presently he went +indoors, put his head into a small sitting-room on the left, and found +the room empty, but the breakfast laid. The kitchen was behind it, and +Jabez Gum stalked on down the passage, and went into it. On the other +side of the passage was the best sitting-room, and a very small room at +the back of it, which Jabez used as an office, and where he kept sundry +account-books.</p> + +<p>"Where's your missis?" asked he of the maid, who was on her knees +toasting bread.</p> + +<p>"Not down yet," was the short response.</p> + +<p>"Not down yet!" repeated Jabez in surprise, for Mrs. Gum was generally +down by seven. "You've got that door open again, Rebecca. How many more +times am I to tell you I won't have it?"</p> + +<p>"It's the smoke," said Rebecca. "This chimbley always smokes when it's +first lighted."</p> + +<p>"The chimney doesn't smoke, and you know that you are telling a +falsehood. What do you want with it open? You'll have that wild man +darting in upon you some morning. How will you like that?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not afeard of him," was the answer, as Rebecca got up from her +knees. "He couldn't eat me."</p> + +<p>"But you know how timid your mistress is," returned the clerk, in a voice +of extreme anger. "How dare you, girl, be insolent?"</p> + +<p>He shut the door as he spoke—one that opened from the kitchen to the +back garden—and bolted it. Washing his hands, and drying them with a +round towel, he went upstairs, and found Mrs. Gum—as he had now and then +found her of late—in a fit of prostration. She was a little woman, with +a light complexion, and insipid, unmeaning face—some such a face as +Willy's had been—and her hair, worn in neat bands under her cap, was the +colour of tow.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it, Gum," she began, as she stood before the glass, her +trembling fingers trying to fasten her black alpaca gown—for she had +never left off mourning for their son. "It's past eight, I know; but I've +had such an upset this morning as never was, and I <i>couldn't</i> dress +myself. I've had a shocking dream."</p> + +<p>"Drat your dreams!" cried Mr. Gum, very much wanting his breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Gum, don't! Those morning dreams, when they're vivid as this was, +are not sent for ridicule. Pike was in it; and you know I can't <i>bear</i> +him to be in my dreams. They are always bad when he is in them."</p> + +<p>"If you wanted your breakfast as much as I want mine, you'd let Pike +alone," retorted the clerk.</p> + +<p>"I thought he was mixed up in some business with Lord Hartledon. I don't +know what it was, but the dream was full of horror. It seemed that Lord +Hartledon was dead or dying; whether he'd been killed or not, I can't +say; but an awful dread was upon me of seeing him dead. A voice called +out, 'Don't let him come to Calne!' and in the fright I awoke. I can't +remember what part Pike played in the dream," she continued, "only the +impression remained that he was in it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he killed Lord Hartledon?" cried Gum, mockingly.</p> + +<p>"No; not in the dream. Pike did not seem to be mixed up in it for ill. +The ill was all on Lord Hartledon; but it was not Pike brought it upon +him. Who it was, I couldn't see; but it was not Pike."</p> + +<p>Clerk Gum looked down at his wife in scornful pity. He wondered +sometimes, in his phlegmatic reasoning, why women were created such +fools.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mrs. G. I thought those dreams of yours were pretty nearly +dreamed out—there have been enough of 'em. How any woman, short of a +born idiot, can stand there and confess herself so frightened by a dream +as to be unable to get up and go about her duties, is beyond me."</p> + +<p>"But, Gum, you don't let me finish. I woke up with the horror, I tell +you—"</p> + +<p>"What horror?" interrupted the clerk, angrily. "What did it consist of? +I can't see the horror."</p> + +<p>"Nor can I, very clearly," acknowledged Mrs. Gum; "but I know it was +there. I woke up with the very words in my ears, 'Don't let him come to +Calne!' and I started out of bed in terror for Lord Hartledon, lest he +<i>should</i> come. We are only half awake, you know, at these moments. I +pulled the curtain aside and looked out. Gum, if ever I thought to drop +in my life, I thought it then. There was but one person to be seen in the +road—and it was Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Gum, cynically, after a moment of natural surprise. "Come +out of his vault for a morning walk past your window, Mrs. G.!"</p> + +<p>"Vault! I mean young Lord Hartledon, Gum."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gum was a little taken back. They had been so much in the habit of +calling the new Lord Hartledon, Lord Elster—who had not lived at Calne +since he came into the title—that he had thought of the old lord when +his wife was speaking.</p> + +<p>"He was up there, just by the turning of the road, going on to Hartledon. +Gum, I nearly dropped, I say. The next minute he was out of sight; then I +rubbed my eyes and pinched my arms to make sure I was awake."</p> + +<p>"And whether you saw a ghost, or whether you didn't," came the mocking +retort.</p> + +<p>"It was no ghost, Gum; it was Lord Hartledon himself."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! It was just as much one as the other. The fact is, you hadn't +quite woke up out of that fine dream of yours, and you saw double. It was +just as much young Hartledon as it was me."</p> + +<p>"I never saw a ghost yet, and I don't fear I ever shall, Gum. I tell +you it was Lord Hartledon. And if harm doesn't befall him at Calne, as +shadowed forth in my dream, never believe me again."</p> + +<p>"There, that's enough," peremptorily cried the clerk; knowing, if once +Mrs. Gum took up any idea with a dream for its basis, how impossible it +was to turn her. "Is the key of that kitchen door found yet?"</p> + +<p>"No: it never will be, Gum. I've told you so before. My belief is, and +always has been, that Rebecca let it drop by accident into the waste +bucket."</p> + +<p>"<i>My</i> belief is, that Rebecca made away with it for her own purposes," +said the clerk. "I caught her just now with the door wide open. She's +trying to make acquaintance with the man Pike; that's what she's at."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gum!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's all very well to say 'Oh, Gum!' but if you were below-stairs +looking after her, instead of dreaming up here, it might be better for +everyone. Let me once be certain about it, and off she goes the next +hour. A fine thing 'twould be some day for us to find her head smothered +in the kitchen purgatory, and the silver spoons gone; as will be the case +if any loose characters get in."</p> + +<p>He was descending the stairs as he spoke the last sentence, delivered in +loud tones, probably for the benefit of Miss Rebecca Jones. And lest the +intelligent Protestant reader should fear he is being introduced to +unorthodox regions, it may be as well to mention that the "purgatory" in +Mr. Jabez Gum's kitchen consisted of an excavation, two feet square, +under the hearth, covered with a grating through which the ashes and +the small cinders fell; thereby enabling the economical housewife to +throw the larger ones on the fire again. Such wells or "purgatories," as +they are called, are common enough in the old-fashioned kitchens of +certain English districts.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum, ready now, had been about to follow her husband; but his +suggestion—that the girl was watching an opportunity to make +acquaintance with their undesirable neighbour, Pike—struck her +motionless.</p> + +<p>It seemed that she could never see this man without a shiver, or overcome +the fright experienced when she first met him. It was on a dark autumn +night. She was coming through the garden when she discerned, or thought +she discerned, a light in the abandoned shed. Thinking of fire, she +hastily crossed the stile that divided their garden from the waste land, +and ran to it. There she was confronted by what she took to be a +bear—but a bear that could talk; for he gruffly asked her who she was +and what she wanted. A black-haired, black-browed man, with a pipe +between his teeth, and one sinewy arm bared to the elbow.</p> + +<p>How Mrs. Gum tore away and tumbled over the stile in her terror, and got +home again, she never knew. She supposed it to be a tramp, who had taken +shelter there for the night; but finding to her dismay that the tramp +stayed on, she had never overcome her fright from that hour to this.</p> + +<p>Neither did her husband like the proximity of such a gentleman. They +caused securer bolts to be put on their doors—for fastenings in small +country places are not much thought about, people around being +proverbially honest. They also had their shutters altered. The shutters +to the windows, back and front, had holes in them in the form of a +heart, such as you may have sometimes noticed. Before the wild-looking +man—whose name came to be known as Pike—had been in possession of the +shed a fortnight, Jabez Gum had the holes in his shutters filled-in and +painted over. An additional security, said the neighbours: but poor timid +Mrs. Gum could not overcome that first fright, and the very mention of +the man set her trembling and quaking.</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said of the dream or the apparition, real or fancied, of +Lord Hartledon: Clerk Gum did not encourage the familiar handling of such +topics in everyday life. He breakfasted, devoted an hour to his own +business in the little office, and then put on his coat to go out. It was +Friday morning. On that day and on Wednesdays the church was open for +baptisms, and it was the clerk's custom to go over at ten o'clock and +apprize the Rector of any notices he might have had.</p> + +<p>Passing in at the iron gates, the large white house rose before him, +beyond the wide lawn. It had been built by Dr. Ashton at his own +expense. The old Rectory was a tumbledown, inconvenient place, always +in dilapidation, for as soon as one part of it was repaired another +fell through; and the Rector opened his heart and his purse, both +large and generous, and built a new one. Mr. Gum was making his way +unannounced to the Rector's study, according to custom, when a door on +the opposite side of the hall opened, and Dr. Ashton came out. He was a +pleasant-looking man, with dark hair and eyes, his countenance one of +keen intellect; and though only of middle height, there was something +stately, grand, imposing in his whole appearance.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Jabez?"</p> + +<p>Connected with each other for so many years—a connection which had begun +when both were young—the Rector and Mrs. Ashton had never called him +anything but Jabez. With other people he was Gum, or Mr. Gum, or Clerk +Gum: Jabez with them. He, Jabez, was the older man of the two by six or +seven years, for the Rector was not more than forty-five. The clerk +crossed the hall, its tessellated flags gleaming under the colours +thrown in by the stained windows, and entered the drawing-room, a noble +apartment looking on to the lawn in front. Mrs. Ashton, a tall, +delicate-looking woman, with a gentle face, was standing before a +painting just come home and hung up; to look at which the Rector and +his wife had gone into the room.</p> + +<p>It was the portrait of a sweet-looking girl with a sunny countenance. The +features were of the delicate contour of Mrs. Ashton's; the rich brown +hair, the soft brown eyes, and the intellectual expression of the face +resembled the doctor's. Altogether, face and portrait were positively +charming; one of those faces you must love at first sight, without +waiting to question whether or not they are beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Is it a good likeness, Jabez?" asked the Rector, whilst Mrs. Ashton made +room for him with a smile of greeting.</p> + +<p>"As like as two peas, sir," responded Jabez, when he had taken a long +look. "What a face it is! Oftentimes it comes across my mind when I am +not thinking of anything but business; and I'm always the better for it."</p> + +<p>"Why, Jabez, this is the first time you have seen it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ma'am, you know I mean the original. There's two baptisms to-day, +sir," he added, turning away; "two, and one churching. Mrs. Luttrell and +her child, and the poor little baby whose mother died."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Luttrell!" repeated the Rector. "It's soon for her, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"They want to go away to the seaside," replied the clerk. "What about +that notice, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I'll see to it before Sunday, Jabez. Any news?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; not that I've heard of. My wife wanted to persuade me she +saw—"</p> + +<p>At this moment a white-haired old serving-man entered the room with +a note, claiming the Rector's attention. "The man's to take back the +answer, sir, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Wait then, Simon."</p> + +<p>Old Simon stood aside, and the clerk, turning to Mrs. Ashton, continued +his unfinished sentence.</p> + +<p>"She wanted to persuade me she saw young Lord Hartledon pass at six +o'clock this morning. A very likely tale that, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she dreamt it, Jabez," said Mrs. Ashton, quietly.</p> + +<p>Jabez chuckled; but what he would have answered was interrupted by the +old servant.</p> + +<p>"It's Mr. Elster that's come; not Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Elster! How do you know, Simon?" asked Mrs. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"The gardener mentioned it, ma'am, when he came in just now," was the +servant's reply. "He said he saw Mr. Elster walk past this morning, as if +he had just come by the luggage-train. I'm not sure but he spoke to him."</p> + +<p>"The answer is 'No,' Simon," interposed the Rector, alluding to the note +he had been reading. "But you can send word that I'll come in some time +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Charles, did you hear what Simon said—that Mr. Elster has come down?" +asked Mrs. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard it," replied the doctor; and there was a hard dry tone in +his voice, as if the news were not altogether palatable to him. "It must +have been Percival Elster your wife saw, Jabez; not Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>Jabez had been arriving at the same conclusion. "They used to be much +alike in height and figure," he observed; "it was easy to mistake the one +for the other. Then that's all this morning, sir?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing more, Jabez."</p> + +<p>In a room whose large French window opened to flowerbeds on the side of +the house, bending over a table on which sundry maps were spread, her +face very close to them, sat at this moment a young lady. It was the same +face you have just seen in the portrait—that of Dr. and Mrs. Ashton's +only daughter. The wondrously sunny expression of countenance, blended +with strange sweetness, was even more conspicuous than in the portrait. +But what perhaps struck a beholder most, when looking at Miss Ashton for +the first time, was a nameless grace and refinement that distinguished +her whole appearance. She was of middle height, not more; slender; her +head well set upon her shoulders. This was her own room; the schoolroom +of her girlhood, the sitting-room she had been allowed to call her own +since then. Books, work, music, a drawing-easel, and various other items, +presenting a rather untidy collection, met the eye. This morning it was +particularly untidy. The charts covered the table; one of them lay on the +carpet; and a pot of mignonette had been overturned inside the open +window scattering some of the mould. She was very busy; the open sleeves +of her lilac-muslin dress were thrown back, and her delicate hands were +putting the finishing touches in pencil to a plan she had been copying, +from one of the maps. A few minutes more, and the pencil was thrown down +in relief.</p> + +<p>"I won't colour it this morning; it must be quite an hour and a half +since I began; but the worst is done, and that's worth a king's ransom." +In the escape from work, the innocent gaiety of her heart, she broke into +a song, and began waltzing round the room. Barely had she passed the open +window, her back turned to it, when a gentleman came up, looked in, +stepped softly over the threshold, and imprisoned her by the waist.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Arthur. Pick up that mignonette-pot you threw down, sir."</p> + +<p>"My darling!" came in a low, heartfelt whisper. And Miss Ashton, with a +faint cry, turned to see her engaged lover, Val Elster.</p> + +<p>She stood before him, literally unable to speak in her great +astonishment, the red roses going and coming in her delicate cheeks, +the rich brown eyes, that might have been too brilliant but for their +exceeding sweetness, raised questioningly to his. Mr. Elster folded her +in his arms as if he would never release her again, and kissed the +shrinking face repeatedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival, Percival! Don't! Let me go."</p> + +<p>He did so at last, and held her before him, her eyelids drooping now, +to gaze at the face he loved so well—yes, loved fervently and well, in +spite of his follies and sins. Her heart was beating wildly with its own +rapture: for her the world had suddenly grown brighter.</p> + +<p>"But when did you arrive?" she whispered, scarcely knowing how to utter +the words in her excessive happiness.</p> + +<p>He took her upon his arm and began to pace the room with her while he +explained. There was an attempt at excuse for his prolonged absence—for +Val Elster had returned from his duties in Vienna in May, and it was now +August, and he had lingered through the intervening time in London, +enjoying himself—but that was soon glossed over; and he told her how his +brother was coming down on the morrow with a houseful of guests, and he, +Val, had offered to go before them with the necessary instructions. He +did not say <i>why</i> he had offered to do this; that his debts had become so +pressing he was afraid to show himself longer in London. Such facts were +not for the ear of that fair girl, who trusted him as the truest man she +knew under heaven.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing, Anne?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the maps, and Miss Ashton laughed.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Graves was here yesterday; she is very clever, you know; and when +something was being said about the course of ships out of England, I made +some dreadful mistakes. She took me up sharply, and papa looked at me +sharply—and the result is, I have to do a heap of maps. Please tell me +if it's right, Percival?"</p> + +<p>She held up her pencilled work of the morning. He was laughing.</p> + +<p>"What mistakes did you make, Anne?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure but I said something about an Indiaman, leaving the London +Docks, having to pass Scarborough," she returned demurely. "It was quite +as bad."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, Anne, being punished for persisting, in spite of the +slate on the wall and your nursery-governess, that the Mediterranean lay +between Scotland and Ireland? Miss Jevons wanted to give you bread and +water for three days. How's that prig Graves?" he added rather abruptly.</p> + +<p>Anne Ashton laughed, blushing slightly. "He is just as you left him; very +painstaking and efficient in the parish, and all that, but, oh, so stupid +in some things! Is the map right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's right. I'll help you with the rest. If Dr. Ashton—"</p> + +<p>"Why, Val! Is it you? I heard Lord Hartledon had come down."</p> + +<p>Percival Elster turned. A lad of seventeen had come bounding in at +the window. It was Dr. Ashton's eldest living son, Arthur. Anne was +twenty-one. A son, who would have been nineteen now, had died; and +there was another, John, two years younger than Arthur.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Arthur, boy?" cried Val. "Edward hasn't come. Who told you +he had?"</p> + +<p>"Mother Gum. I have just met her."</p> + +<p>"She told you wrong. He will be down to-morrow. Is that Dr. Ashton?"</p> + +<p>Attracted perhaps by the voices, Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were then out +on the lawn, came round to the window. Percival Elster grasped a hand of +each, and after a minute or two's studied coldness, the doctor thawed. It +was next to impossible to resist the genial manner, the winning +attractions of the young man to his face. But Dr. Ashton could not +approve of his line of conduct; and had sore doubts whether he had done +right in allowing him to become the betrothed of his dearly-loved +daughter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER.</h3> + + +<p>The guests had arrived, and Hartledon was alive with bustle and lights. +The first link in the chain, whose fetters were to bind more than one +victim, had been forged. Link upon link; a heavy, despairing burden no +hand could lift; a burden which would have to be borne for the most part +in dread secrecy and silence.</p> + +<p>Mirrable had exerted herself to good purpose, and Mirrable was capable +of it when occasion needed. Help had been procured from Calne, and on +the Friday evening several of the Hartledon servants arrived from the +town-house. "None but a young man would have put us to such a rout," +quoth Mirrable, in her privileged freedom; "my lord and lady would have +sent a week's notice at least." But when Lord Hartledon arrived on the +Saturday evening with his guests, Mirrable was ready for them.</p> + +<p>She stood at the entrance to receive them, in her black-silk gown and +lace cap, its broad white-satin strings falling on either side the bunch +of black ringlets that shaded her thin face. Who, to look at her quick, +sharp countenance, with its practical sense, her active frame, her ready +speech, her general capability, would believe her to be sister to that +silly, dreaming Mrs. Gum? But it was so. Lord Hartledon, kind, affable, +unaffected as ever was his brother Percival, shook hands with her +heartily in the eyes of his guests before he said a word of welcome to +them; and one of those guests, a remarkably broad woman, with a red face, +a wide snub nose, and a front of light flaxen hair, who had stepped into +the house leaning on her host's arm—having, in fact, taken it unasked, +and seemed to be assuming a great deal of authority—turned round to +stare at Mirrable, and screwed her little light eyes together for a +better view.</p> + +<p>"Who is she, Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Mirrable," answered his lordship rather shortly. "I think you must +have seen her before. She has been Hartledon's mistress since my mother +died," he rather pointedly added, for he saw incipient defiance in the +old lady's countenance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hartledon's head servant; the housekeeper, I presume," cried she, +as majestically as her harsh voice allowed her to speak. "Perhaps you'll +tell her who I am, Hartledon; and that I have undertaken to preside here +for a little while."</p> + +<p>"I believe Mrs. Mirrable knows you, ma'am," spoke up Percival Elster, for +Lord Hartledon had turned away, and was lost amongst his guests. "You +have seen the Countess-Dowager of Kirton, Mirrable?"</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager faced round upon the speaker sharply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's <i>you</i>, Val Elster? Who asked you to interfere? I'll see the +rooms, Mirrable, and the arrangements you have made. Maude, where are +you? Come with me."</p> + +<p>A tall, stately girl, with handsome features, raven hair and eyes, and +a brilliant colour, extricated herself from the crowd. It was Lady Maude +Kirton. Mirrable went first; the countess-dowager followed, talking +volubly; and Maude brought up the rear. Other servants came forward to +see to the rest of the guests.</p> + +<p>The most remarkable quality observable in the countess-dowager, apart +from her great breadth, was her restlessness. She seemed never still for +an instant; her legs had a fidgety, nervous movement in them, and in +moments of excitement, which were not infrequent, she was given to +executing a sort of war-dance. Old she was not; but her peculiar graces +of person, her rotund form, her badly-made front of flaxen curls, which +was rarely in its place, made her appear so. A bold, scheming, +unscrupulous, vulgar-minded woman, who had never considered other +people's feelings in her life, whether equals or inferiors. In her day +she must have been rather tall—nearly as tall as that elegant Maude who +followed her; but her astounding width caused her now to appear short. +She went looking into the different rooms as shown to her by Mirrable, +and chose the best for herself and her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Three en suite. Yes, that will be the thing, Mirrable. Lady Maude will +take the inner one, I will occupy this, and my maid the outer. Very good. +Now you may order the luggage up."</p> + +<p>"But my lady," objected Mirrable, "these are the best rooms in the house; +and each has a separate entrance, as you perceive. With so many guests to +provide for, your maid cannot have one of these rooms."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried the countess-dowager. "My maid not have one of these rooms? +You insolent woman! Do you know that I am come here with my nephew, Lord +Hartledon, to be mistress of this house, and of every one in it? You'd +better mind <i>your</i> behaviour, for I can tell you that I shall look pretty +sharply after it."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Mirrable, who never allowed herself to be put out by any +earthly thing, and rarely argued against the stream, "as your ladyship +has come here as sole mistress, perhaps you will yourself apportion the +rooms to the guests."</p> + +<p>"Let them apportion them for themselves," cried the countess-dowager. +"These three are mine; others manage as they can. It's Hartledon's fault. +I told him not to invite a heap of people. You and I shall get on +together very well, I've no doubt, Mirrable," she continued in a false, +fawning voice; for she was remarkably alive at all times to her own +interests. "Am I to understand that you are the housekeeper?"</p> + +<p>"I am acting as housekeeper at present," was Mirrable's answer. "When my +lord went to town, after my lady's death, the housekeeper went also, and +has remained there. I have taken her place. Lord Elster—Lord Hartledon, +I mean—has not lived yet at Hartledon, and we have had no +establishment."</p> + +<p>"Then who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I was maid to Lady Hartledon for many years. Her ladyship treated me +more as a friend at the last; and the young gentlemen always did so."</p> + +<p>"<i>Very</i> good," cried the untrue voice. "And, now, Mirrable, you can go +down and send up some tea for myself and Lady Maude. What time do we +dine?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Elster ordered it for eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"And what business had <i>he</i> to take orders upon himself?" and the pale +little eyes flashed with anger. "Who's Val Elster, that he should +interfere? I sent word by the servants that we wouldn't dine till nine."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Elster is in his own house, madam; and—"</p> + +<p>"In his own house!" raved Lady Kirton. "It's no house of his; it's his +brother's. And I wish I was his brother for a day only; I'd let Mr. Val +know what presumption comes to. Can't dinner be delayed?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" snapped the countess-dowager. "Send up tea at once; and let +it be strong, with a great deal of green in it. And some rolled +bread-and-butter, and a little well-buttered toast."</p> + +<p>Mirrable departed with the commands, more inclined to laugh at the +selfish old woman than to be angry. She remembered the countess-dowager +arriving on an unexpected visit some three or four years before, and +finding the old Lord Hartledon away and his wife ill in bed. She remained +three days, completely upsetting the house; so completely upsetting the +invalid Lady Hartledon, that the latter was glad to lend her a sum of +money to get rid of her.</p> + +<p>Truth to say, Lady Kirton had never been a welcome guest at Hartledon; +had been shunned, in fact, and kept away by all sorts of <i>ruses</i>. The +only other visit she had paid the family, in Mirrable's remembrance, was +to the town-house, when the children were young. Poor little Val had been +taught by his nurse to look upon her as a "bogey;" went about in terror +of her; and her ladyship detecting the feeling, administered sly pinches +whenever they met. Perhaps neither of them had completely overcome the +antagonism from that time to this.</p> + +<p>A scrambling sort of life had been Lady Kirton's. The wife of a very poor +and improvident Irish peer, who had died early, leaving her badly +provided for, her days had been one long scramble to make both ends meet +and avoid creditors. Now in Ireland, now on the Continent, now coming out +for a few brief weeks of fashionable life, and now on the wing to some +place of safety, had she dodged about, and become utterly unscrupulous.</p> + +<p>There was a whole troop of children, who had been allowed to go to +the good or the bad very much in their own way, with little help or +hindrance from their mother. All the daughters were married now, +excepting Maude, mostly to German barons and French counts. One had +espoused a marquis—native country not clearly indicated; one an Italian +duke: but the marquis lived somewhere over in Algeria in a small lodging, +and the Duke condescended to sing an occasional song on the Italian +stage.</p> + +<p>It was all one to Lady Kirton. They had taken their own way, and she +washed her hands of them as easily as though they had never belonged to +her. Had they been able to supply her with an occasional bank-note, or +welcome her on a protracted visit, they had been her well-beloved and +most estimable daughters.</p> + +<p>Of the younger sons, all were dispersed; the dowager neither knew nor +cared where. Now and again a piteous begging-letter would come from one +or the other, which she railed at and scolded over, and bade Maude +answer. Her eldest son, Lord Kirton, had married some four or five years +ago, and since then the countess-dowager's lines had been harder than +ever. Before that event she could go to the place in Ireland whenever she +liked (circumstances permitting), and stay as long as she liked; but that +was over now. For the young Lady Kirton, who on her own score spent all +the money her husband could scrape together, and more, had taken an +inveterate dislike to her mother-in-law, and would not tolerate her.</p> + +<p>Never, since she was thus thrown upon her own resources, had the +countess-dowager's lucky star been in the ascendant as it had been this +season, for she contrived to fasten herself upon the young Lord +Hartledon, and secure a firm footing in his town-house. She called him +her nephew—"My nephew Hartledon;" but that was a little improvement upon +the actual relationship, for she and the late Lady Hartledon had been +cousins only. She invited herself for a week's sojourn in May, and had +never gone away again; and it was now August. She had come down with him, +<i>sans cérémonie</i>, to Hartledon; had told him (as a great favour) that she +would look after his house and guests during her stay, as his mother +would have done. Easy, careless, good-natured Hartledon acquiesced, and +took it all as a matter of course. To him she was ever all sweetness +and suavity.</p> + +<p>None knew better on which side her bread was buttered than the +countess-dowager. She liked it buttered on both sides, and generally +contrived to get it.</p> + +<p>She had come down to Hartledon House with one fixed determination—that +she did not quit it until the Lady Maude was its mistress. For a long +while Maude had been her sole hope. Her other daughters had married +according to their fancy—and what had come of it?—but Maude was +different. Maude had great beauty; and Maude, truth to say, was almost +as selfishly alive to her own interest as her mother. <i>She</i> should marry +well, and so be in a position to shelter the poor, homeless, wandering +dowager. Had she chosen from the whole batch of peers, not one could have +been found more eligible than he whom fortune seemed to have turned up +for her purpose—Lord Hartledon; and before the countess-dowager had been +one week his guest in London she began her scheming.</p> + +<p>Lady Maude was nothing loth. Young, beautiful, vain, selfish, she yet +possessed a woman's susceptible heart; though surrounded with luxury, +dress, pomp, show, which are said to deaden the feelings, and in some +measure do deaden them, Lady Maude insensibly managed to fall in love, as +deeply as ever did an obscure damsel of romance. She had first met him +two years before, when he was Viscount Elster; had liked him then. Their +relationship sanctioned their being now much together, and the Lady Maude +lost her heart to him.</p> + +<p>Would it bring forth fruit, this scheming of the countess-dowager's, and +Maude's own love? In her wildest hopes the old woman never dreamed of +what that fruit would be; or, unscrupulous as she was by habit, unfeeling +by nature, she might have carried away Maude from Hartledon within the +hour of their arrival.</p> + +<p>Of the three parties more immediately concerned, the only innocent +one—innocent of any intentions—was Lord Hartledon. He liked Maude very +well as a cousin, but otherwise he did not care for her. They might +succeed—at least, had circumstances gone on well, they might have +succeeded—in winning him at last; but it would not have been from love. +His present feeling towards Maude was one of indifference; and of +marriage at all he had not begun to think.</p> + +<p>Val Elster, on the contrary, regarded Maude with warm admiration. Her +beauty had charms for him, and he had been oftener at her side but for +the watchful countess-dowager. It would have been horrible had Maude +fallen in love with the wrong brother, and the old lady grew to hate him +for the fear, as well as on her own score. The feeling of dislike, begun +in Val's childhood, had ripened in the last month or two to almost open +warfare. He was always in the way. Many a time when Lord Hartledon might +have enjoyed a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Maude, Val Elster was there to spoil +it.</p> + +<p>But the culminating point had arrived one day, when Val, half laughingly, +half seriously, told the dowager, who had been provoking him almost +beyond endurance, that she might spare her angling in regard to Maude, +for Hartledon would never bite. But that he took his pleasant face beyond +her reach, it might have suffered, for her fingers were held out +alarmingly.</p> + +<p>From that time she took another little scheme into her hands—that of +getting Percival Elster out of his brother's favour and his brother's +house. Val, on his part, seriously advised his brother <i>not</i> to allow the +Kirtons to come to Hartledon; and this reached the ears of the dowager. +You may be sure it did not tend to soothe her. Lord Hartledon only +laughed at Val, saying they might come if they liked; what did it matter?</p> + +<p>But, strange to say, Val Elster was as a very reed in the hands of the +old woman. Let her once get hold of him, and she could turn him any way +she pleased. He felt afraid of her, and bent to her will. The feeling may +have had its rise partly in the fear instilled into his boyhood, partly +in the yielding nature of his disposition. However that might be, it was +a fact; and Val could no more have openly opposed the resolute, +sharp-tongued old woman to her face than he could have changed his +nature. He rarely called her anything but "ma'am," as their nurse had +taught him and his brothers and sisters to do in those long-past years.</p> + +<p>Before eight o'clock the guests had all assembled in the drawing-room, +except the countess-dowager and Maude. Lord Hartledon was going about +amongst them, talking to one and another of the beauties of this, his +late father's place; scarcely yet thought of as his own. He was a tall +slender man; in figure very much resembling Percival, but not in face: +the one was dark, the other fair. There was also the same indolent sort +of movement, a certain languid air discernible in both; proclaiming the +undoubted fact, that both were idle in disposition and given to ennui. +There the resemblance ended. Lord Hartledon had nothing of the +irresolution of Percival Elster, but was sufficiently decisive in +character, prompt in action.</p> + +<p>A noble room, this they were in, as many of the rooms were in the fine +old mansion. Lord Hartledon opened the inner door, and took them into +another, to show them the portrait of his brother George—a fine young +man also, with a fair, pleasing countenance.</p> + +<p>"He is like Elster; not like you, Hartledon," cried a young man, whose +name was Carteret.</p> + +<p>"<i>Was</i>, you mean, Carteret," corrected Lord Hartledon, in tones of sad +regret. "There was a great family resemblance between us all, I believe."</p> + +<p>"He died from an accident, did he not?" said Mr. O'Moore, an Irishman, +who liked to be called "The O'Moore."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Percival Elster turned to his brother, and spoke in low tones. "Edward, +was any particular person suspected of having fired the shot?"</p> + +<p>"None. A set of loose, lawless characters were out that night, and—"</p> + +<p>"What are you all looking at here?"</p> + +<p>The interruption came from Lady Kirton, who was sailing into the room +with Maude. A striking contrast the one presented to the other. Maude in +pink silk and a pink wreath, her haughty face raised in pride, her dark +eyes flashing, radiantly beautiful. The old dowager, broad as she was +high, her face rouged, her short snub nose always carried in the air, her +light eyes unmeaning, her flaxen eyebrows heavy, her flaxen curls crowned +by a pea-green turban. Her choice attire was generally composed, as +to-day, of some cheap, flimsy, gauzy material bright in colour. This +evening it was orange lace, all flounces and frills, with a lace scarf; +and she generally had innumerable ends of quilted net flying about her +skirts, not unlike tails. It was certain she did not spend much money +upon her own attire; and how she procured the costly dresses for Maude +the latter appeared in was ever a mystery. You can hardly fancy the +bedecked old figure that she made. The O'Moore nearly laughed out, as he +civilly turned to answer her question.</p> + +<p>"We were looking at this portrait, Lady Kirton."</p> + +<p>"And saying how much he was like Val," put in young Carteret, between +whom and the dowager warfare also existed. "Val, which was the elder?"</p> + +<p>"George was."</p> + +<p>"Then his death made you heir-presumptive," cried the thoughtless young +man, speaking impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Heir-presumptive to what?" asked the dowager snapping at the words.</p> + +<p>"To Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> heir to Hartledon! Don't trouble yourself, young man, to imagine +that Val Elster's ever likely to come into Hartledon. Do you want to +shoot his lordship, as <i>he</i> was shot?"</p> + +<p>The uncalled-for retort, the strangely intemperate tones, the quick +passionate fling of the hand towards the portrait astonished young +Carteret not a little. Others were surprised also; and not one present +but stared at the speaker. But she said no more. The pea-green turban and +flaxen curls were nodding ominously; and that was all.</p> + +<p>The animus to Val Elster was very marked. Lord Hartledon glanced at his +brother with a smile, and led the way back to the other drawing-room. At +that moment the butler announced dinner; the party filed across the hall +to the fine old dining-room, and began finding their seats.</p> + +<p>"I shall sit there, Val. You can take a chair at the side."</p> + +<p>Val did look surprised at this. He was about to take the foot of his +brother's table, as usual; and there was the pea-green turban standing +over him, waiting to usurp it. It would have been quite beyond Val +Elster, in his sensitiveness, to tell her she should not have it; but he +did feel annoyed. He was sweet-tempered, however. Moreover, he was a +gentleman, and only waited to make one remark.</p> + +<p>"I fear you will not like this place, ma'am. Won't it look odd to see a +lady at the bottom of the table?"</p> + +<p>"I have promised my dear nephew to act as mistress, and to see after his +guests; and I don't choose to sit at the side under those circumstances." +But she had looked at Lord Hartledon, and hesitated before she spoke. +Perhaps she thought his lordship would resign the head of the table to +her, and take the foot himself. If so, she was mistaken.</p> + +<p>"You will be more comfortable at the side, Lady Kirton," cried Lord +Hartledon, when he discovered what the bustle was about.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Hartledon; not at all."</p> + +<p>"But I like my brother to face me, ma'am. It is his accustomed place."</p> + +<p>Remonstrance was useless. The dowager nodded her pea-green turban, and +firmly seated herself. Val Elster dexterously found a seat next Lady +Maude; and a gay gleam of triumph shot out of his deep-blue eyes as he +glanced at the dowager. It was not the seat she would have wished him to +take; but to interfere again might have imperilled her own place. Maude +laughed. She did not care for Val—rather despised him in her heart; but +he was the most attractive man present, and she liked admiration.</p> + +<p>Another link in the chain! For how many, many days and years, dating from +that evening, did that awful old woman take a seat, at intervals, at Lord +Hartledon's table, and assume it as a right!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>JEALOUSY.</h3> + + +<p>The rain poured down on the Monday morning; and Lord Hartledon stood at +the window of the countess-dowager's sitting-room—one she had +unceremoniously adopted for her own private use—smoking a cigar, and +watching the clouds. Any cigar but his would have been consigned to the +other side the door. Mr. Elster had only shown (by mere accident) the +end of his cigar-case, and the dowager immediately demanded what he meant +by displaying that article in the presence of ladies. A few minutes +afterwards Lord Hartledon entered, smoking, and was allowed to enjoy his +cigar with impunity. Good-tempered Val's delicate lips broke into a +silent smile as he marked the contrast.</p> + +<p>He lounged on the sofa, doing nothing, in his idle fashion; Lord +Hartledon continued to watch the clouds. On the previous Saturday night +the gentlemen had entered into an argument about boating: the result was +that a match on the river was arranged, and some bets were pending on it. +It had been fixed to come off this day, Monday; but if the rain continued +to come down, it must be postponed; for the ladies, who had been promised +the treat, would not venture out to see it.</p> + +<p>"It has come on purpose," grumbled Lord Hartledon. "Yesterday was as fine +and bright as it could be, the glass standing at set fair; and now, just +because this boating was to come off, the rain peppers down!"</p> + +<p>The rain excepted, it was a fair vision that he looked out upon. The room +faced the back of the house, and beyond the lovely grounds green slopes +extended to the river, tolerably wide here, winding peacefully in its +course. The distant landscape was almost like a scene from fairyland.</p> + +<p>The restless dowager—in a nondescript head-dress this morning, adorned +with an upright tuft of red feathers and voluminous skirts of brown net, +a jacket and flounces to match—betook herself to the side of Lord +Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Where d'you get the boats?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"They are kept lower down, at the boat-house," he replied, puffing at his +cigar. "You can't see it from here; it's beyond Dr. Ashton's; lots of +'em; any number to be had for the hiring. Talking of Dr. Ashton, they +will dine here to-day, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Who will?" asked Lady Kirton.</p> + +<p>"The doctor, Mrs. Ashton—if she's well enough—and Miss Ashton."</p> + +<p>"Who are they, my dear nephew?"</p> + +<p>"Why, don't you know? Dr. Ashton preached to you yesterday. He is Rector +of Calne; you must have heard of Dr. Ashton. They will be calling this +morning, I expect."</p> + +<p>"And you have invited them to dinner! Well, one must do the civil to this +sort of people."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon burst into a laugh. "You won't say 'this sort of people' +when you see the Ashtons, Lady Kirton. They are quite as good as we are. +Dr. Ashton has refused a bishopric, and Anne is the sweetest girl ever +created."</p> + +<p>Lady Maude, who was drawing, and exchanging a desultory sentence once in +a way with Val, suddenly looked up. Her colour had heightened, though it +was brilliant at all times.</p> + +<p>"Are you speaking of my maid?" she said—and it might be that she had not +attended to the conversation, and asked in ignorance, not in scorn. "Her +name is Anne."</p> + +<p>"I was speaking of Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to beg Anne Ashton's pardon," returned Lady Maude; her tone +this time unmistakably mocking. "Anne is so common a name amongst +servants."</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether it is common amongst servants or uncommon," spoke +Lord Hartledon rather hotly, as though he would resent the covert sneer. +"It is Anne Ashton's; and I love the name for her sake. But I think it +a pretty name; and should, if she did not bear it; prettier than yours, +Maude."</p> + +<p>"And pray who <i>is</i> Anne Ashton?" demanded the countess-dowager, with as +much hauteur as so queer an old figure and face could put on, whilst +Maude bent over her employment with white lips.</p> + +<p>"She is Dr. Ashton's daughter," spoke Lord Hartledon, shortly. "My +father valued him above all men. He loved Anne too—loved her dearly; +and—though I don't know whether it is quite fair to Anne to let this +out—the probable future connection between the families was most welcome +to him. Next to my father, we boys reverenced the doctor; he was our +tutor, in a measure, when we were staying at Hartledon; at least, tutor +to poor George and Val; they used to read with him."</p> + +<p>"And you would hint at some alliance between you and this Anne Ashton!" +cried the countess-dowager, in a fume; for she thought she saw a fear +that the great prize might slip through her fingers. "What sort of an +alliance, I should like to ask? Be careful what you say, Hartledon; you +may injure the young woman."</p> + +<p>"I'll take care I don't injure Anne Ashton," returned Lord Hartledon, +enjoying her temper. "As to an alliance with her—my earnest wish is, as +it was my father's, that time may bring it about. Val there knows I wish +it."</p> + +<p>Val glanced at his brother by way of answer. He had taken no part in the +discussion; his slight lips were drawn down, as he balanced a pair of +scissors on his forefinger, and he looked less good-tempered than usual.</p> + +<p>"Has she red hair and sky-blue eyes, and a doll's face? Does she sit in +the pew under the reading-desk with three other dolls?" asked the foaming +dowager.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon turned and stared at the speaker in wonder—what could be +so exciting her?</p> + +<p>"She has soft brown hair and eyes, and a sweet gentle face; she is a +graceful, elegant, attractive girl," said he, curtly. "She sat alone +yesterday; for Arthur was in another part of the church, and Mrs. Ashton +was not there. Mrs. Ashton is not in good health, she tells me, and +cannot always come. The Rector's pew is the one with green curtains."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>that</i> vulgar-looking girl!" exclaimed Maude, her unjust words—and +she knew them to be unjust—trembling on her lips. "The Grand Sultan +might exalt her to be his chief wife, but he could never make a lady of +her, or get her to look like one."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Maude," cried the countess-dowager, who, with all her own +mistakes, had the sense to see that this sort of disparagement would only +recoil upon them with interest, and who did not like the expression of +Lord Hartledon's face. "You talk as if you had seen this Mrs. Ashton, +Hartledon, since your return."</p> + +<p>"I should not be many hours at Hartledon without seeing Mrs. Ashton," he +answered. "That's where I was yesterday afternoon, ma'am, when you were +so kindly anxious in your inquiries as to what had become of me. I dare +say I was absent an unconscionable time. I never know how it passes, once +I am with Anne."</p> + +<p>"We represent Love as blind, you know," spoke Maude, in her desperation, +unable to steady her pallid lips. "You apparently do not see it, Lord +Hartledon, but the young woman is the very essence of vulgarity."</p> + +<p>A pause followed the speech. The countess-dowager turned towards her +daughter in a blazing rage, and Val Elster quitted the room.</p> + +<p>"Maude," said Lord Hartledon, "I am sorry to tell you that you have put +your foot in it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," panted Lady Maude, in her agitation. "For giving my opinion +of your Anne Ashton?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. You have driven Val away in suppressed indignation."</p> + +<p>"Is Val of the Anne Ashton faction, that the truth should tell upon him, +as well as upon you?" she returned, striving to maintain an assumption of +sarcastic coldness.</p> + +<p>"It is upon him that the words will tell. Anne is engaged to him."</p> + +<p>"Is it true? Is Val really engaged to her?" cried the countess-dowager in +an ecstacy of relief, lifting her snub nose and painted cheeks, whilst a +glad light came into Maude's eyes again. "I did hear he was engaged to +some girl; but such reports of younger sons go for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Val was engaged to her before he went abroad. Whether he will get her or +not, is another thing."</p> + +<p>"To hear you talk, Hartledon, one might have supposed you cared for the +girl yourself," cried Lady Kirton; but her brow was smooth again, and her +tone soft as honey. "You should be more cautious."</p> + +<p>"Cautious! Why so? I love and respect Anne beyond any girl on earth. But +that Val hastened to make hay when the sun shone, whilst I fell asleep +under the hedge, I don't know but I might have proposed to her myself," +he added, with a laugh. "However, it shall not be my fault if Val does +not win her."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager said no more. She was worldly-wise in her way, and +thought it best to leave well alone. Sailing out of the room she left +them alone together: as she was fond of doing.</p> + +<p>"Is it not rather—rather beneath an Elster to marry an obscure country +clergyman's daughter?" began Lady Maude, a strange bitterness filling her +heart.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Maude, the Ashtons are our equals in all ways. He is a proud +old doctor of divinity—not old, however—of irreproachable family and +large private fortune."</p> + +<p>"You spoke of him as a tutor?"</p> + +<p>"A tutor! Oh, I said he was in a measure our tutor when we were young. I +meant in training us—in training us to good; and he allowed George and +Val to read with him, and directed their studies: all for love, and out +of the friendship he and my father bore each other. Dr. Ashton a paid +tutor!" ejaculated Lord Hartledon, laughing at the notion. "Dr. Ashton an +obscure country clergyman! And even if he were, who is Val, that he +should set himself up?"</p> + +<p>"He is the Honourable Val Elster."</p> + +<p>"Very honourable! Val is an unlucky dog of a spendthrift; that's what Val +is. See how many times he has been set up on his legs!—and has always +come down again. He had that place in the Government my father got him. +He was attaché in Paris; subsequently in Vienna; he has had ever so many +chances, and drops through all. One can't help loving Val; he is an +attractive, sweet-tempered, good-natured fellow; but he was certainly +born under an unlucky star. Elster's folly!"</p> + +<p>"Val will drop through more chances yet," remarked Lady Maude. "I pity +Miss Ashton, if she means to wait for him."</p> + +<p>"Means to! She loves him passionately—devotedly. She would wait for him +all her life, and think it happiness only to see him once in a way."</p> + +<p>"As an astronomer looks at a star through a telescope," laughed Maude; +"and Val is not worth the devotion."</p> + +<p>"Val is not a bad fellow in the main; quite the contrary, Maude. Of +course we all know his besetting sin—irresolution. A child might sway +him, either for good or ill. The very best thing that could happen to Val +would be his marriage with Anne. She is sensible and judicious; and I +think Val could not fail to keep straight under her influence. If Dr. +Ashton could only be brought to see the matter in this light!"</p> + +<p>"Can he not?"</p> + +<p>"He thinks—and I don't say he has not reason—that Val should show +some proof of stability before his marriage, instead of waiting until +after it. The doctor has not gone to the extent of parting them, or of +suspending the engagement; but he is prepared to be strict and exacting +as to Mr. Val's line of conduct; and I fancy the suspicion that it would +be so has kept Val away from Calne."</p> + +<p>"What will be done?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. Val does not make a confidant of me, and I can't get to +the bottom of how he is situated. Debts I am sure he has; but whether—"</p> + +<p>"Val always had plenty of those," interrupted Maude.</p> + +<p>"True. When my father died, three parts of Val's inheritance went to pay +off debts nobody knew he had contracted. The worst is, he glides into +these difficulties unwittingly, led and swayed by others. We don't say +Elster's sin, or Elster's crimes; we say Elster's folly. I don't believe +Val ever in his life did a bad thing of deliberate intention. Designing +people get hold of him—fast fellows who are going headlong down-hill +themselves—and Val, unable to say 'No,' is drawn here and drawn there, +and tumbles with them into a quagmire, and perhaps has to pay his +friends' costs, as well as his own, before he can get out of it. Do you +believe in luck, Maude?"</p> + +<p>"In luck?" answered Maude, raising her eyes at the abrupt question. "I +don't know."</p> + +<p>"I believe in it. I believe that some are born under a lucky star, and +others under an unlucky one. Val is one of the latter. He is always +unlucky. Set him up, and down he comes again. I don't think I ever knew +Val lucky in my life. Look at his nearly blowing his arm off that time in +Scotland! You will laugh at me, I dare say; but a thought crosses me at +odd moments that his ill-luck will prevail still, in the matter of Miss +Ashton. Not if I can help it, however; I'll do my best, for Anne's sake."</p> + +<p>"You seem to think very much of her yourself," cried Lady Maude, her +cheeks crimsoning with an angry flush.</p> + +<p>"I do—as Val's future wife. I love Anne Ashton better than any one +else in the world. We all loved her. So would you if you knew her. In +my mother's last illness Anne was a greater comfort to her than Laura."</p> + +<p>"Should you ever think of a wife on your own score, she may not like this +warm praise of Miss Anne Ashton," said Lady Maude, assiduously drawing, +her hot face bent down to within an inch of the cardboard.</p> + +<p>"Not like it? She wouldn't be such an idiot, I hope, as to dislike it. Is +not Anne going to be my brother's wife? Did you suppose I spoke of Anne +in that way?—you must have been dreaming, Maude."</p> + +<p>Maude hoped she had been. The young man took his cigar from his mouth, +ran a penknife through the end, and began smoking again.</p> + +<p>"That time is far enough off, Maude. <i>I</i> am not going to tie myself up +with a wife, or to think of one either, for many a long year to come."</p> + +<p>Her heart beat with a painful throbbing. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"No danger. My wild oats are not sown yet, any more than Val's; only you +don't hear of them, because I have money to back me, and he has not. I +must find a girl I should like to make my wife before that event comes +off, Maude; and I have not found her yet."</p> + +<p>Lady Maude damaged her landscape. She sketched in a tree where a chimney +ought to have been, and laid the fault upon her pencil.</p> + +<p>"It has been real sport, Maude, ever since I came home from knocking +about abroad, to hear and see the old ladies. They think I am to be +caught with a bait; and that bait is each one's own enchanting daughter. +Let them angle, an they please—it does no harm. They are amused, and I +am none the worse. I enjoy a laugh sometimes, while I take care of +myself; as I have need to do, or I might find myself the victim of some +detestable breach-of-promise affair, and have to stand damages. But for +Anne Ashton, Val would have had his head in that Westminster-noose a +score of times; and the wonder is that he has kept out of it. No, thank +you, my ladies; I am not a marrying man."</p> + +<p>"Why do you tell me this?" asked Lady Maude, a sick faintness stealing +over her face and heart.</p> + +<p>"You are one of ourselves, and I tell you anything. It will be fun for +you, Maude, if you'll open your eyes and look on. There are some in the +house now who—" He stopped and laughed.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not hear this!" she cried passionately. "Don't tell me."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked at her, begged her pardon, and quitted the room +with his cigar. Lady Maude, black as night, dashed her pencil on to the +cardboard, and scored her sketch all over with ugly black lines. Her face +itself looked ugly then.</p> + +<p>"Why did he say this to me?" she asked of her fevered heart. "Was it said +with a purpose? Has he found out that I <i>love</i> him? that my shallow old +mother is one of the subtlest of the anglers? and that—"</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you at with your drawing, Maude?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have grown sick of the sketch. I am not in a drawing mood to-day, +mamma."</p> + +<p>"And how fierce you were looking," pursued the countess-dowager, who had +darted in at rather an inopportune moment for Maude—darting in on people +at such moments being her habit. "And that was the sketch Hartledon asked +you to do for him from the old painting!"</p> + +<p>"He may do it himself, if he wants it done."</p> + +<p>"Where is Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Gone out somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Has he offended you, or vexed you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he did vex me. He has just been assuring me with the coolest air +that he should never marry; or, at least, not for years and years to +come. He told me to notice what a heap of girls were after him—or their +mothers for them—and the fun he had over it, not being a marrying man."</p> + +<p>"Is that all? You need not have put yourself in a fatigue, and spoilt +your drawing. Lord Hartledon shall be your husband before six months are +over—or reproach me ever afterwards with being a false prophetess and a +bungling manager."</p> + +<p>Maude's brow cleared. She had almost childlike confidence in the tact of +her unscrupulous mother.</p> + +<p>But how the morning's conversation altogether rankled in her heart, +none save herself could tell: ay, and in that of the dowager. Although +Anne Ashton was the betrothed of Percival Elster, and Lord Hartledon's +freely-avowed love for her was evidently that of a brother, and he had +said he should do all he could to promote the marriage, the strongest +jealousy had taken possession of Lady Maude's heart. She already hated +Anne Ashton with a fierce and bitter hatred. She turned sick with envy +when, in the morning visit that was that day paid by the Ashtons, she saw +that Anne was really what Lord Hartledon had described her—one of the +sweetest, most lovable, most charming of girls; almost without her equal +in the world for grace and goodness and beauty. She turned more sick with +envy when, at dinner afterwards, to which the Ashtons came, Lord +Hartledon devoted himself to them, almost to the neglect of his other +guests, lingering much with Anne.</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager marked it also, and was furious. Nothing could be +urged against them; they were unexceptionable. The doctor, a chatty, +straightforward, energetic man, of great intellect and learning, and +emphatically a gentleman; his wife attracting by her unobtrusive +gentleness; his daughter by her grace and modest self-possession. +Whatever Maude Kirton might do, she could never, for very shame, again +attempt to disparage them. Surely there was no just reason for the hatred +which took possession of Maude's heart; a hatred that could never be +plucked out again.</p> + +<p>But Maude knew how to dissemble. It pleased her to affect a sudden and +violent friendship for Anne.</p> + +<p>"Hartledon told me how much I should like you," she whispered, as they +sat together on the sofa after dinner, to which Maude had drawn her. "He +said I should find you the dearest girl I ever met; and I do so. May I +call you 'Anne'?"</p> + +<p>Not for a moment did Miss Ashton answer. Truth to say, far from +reciprocating the sudden fancy boasted of by Maude, she had taken an +unaccountable dislike to her. Something of falsity in the tone, of sudden +<i>hardiesse</i> in the handsome black eyes, acted upon Anne as an instinctive +warning.</p> + +<p>"As you please, Lady Maude."</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much. Hartledon whispered to me the secret about you and +Val—Percival, I mean. Shall you accomplish the task, think you?"</p> + +<p>"What task?"</p> + +<p>"That of turning him from his evil ways."</p> + +<p>"His evil ways?" repeated Anne, in a surprised indignation she did not +care to check. "I do not understand you, Lady Maude."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, my dear Anne: it was hazardous so to speak <i>to you</i>. I ought +to have said his thoughtless ways. Quant à moi, je ne vois pas la +différence. Do you understand French?"</p> + +<p>Miss Ashton looked at her, really not knowing what this style of +conversation might mean. Maude continued; she had a habit of putting +forth a sting on occasion, or what she hoped might be a sting.</p> + +<p>"You are staring at the superfluous question. Of course it is one in +these <i>French</i> days, when everyone speaks it. What was I saying? Oh, +about Percival. Should he ever have the luck to marry, meaning the +income, he will make a docile husband; but his wife will have to keep him +under her finger and thumb; she must be master as well as mistress, for +his own sake."</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Elster would not care to be so spoken of," said Miss Ashton, +her face beginning to glow.</p> + +<p>"You devoted girl! It is you who don't care to hear it. Take care, Anne; +too much love is not good for gaining the mastership; and I have heard +that you are—shall I say it?—<i>éperdue</i>."</p> + +<p>Anne, in spite of her calm good sense, was actually provoked to a retort +in kind, and felt terribly vexed with herself for it afterwards. "A +rumour of the same sort has been breathed as to the Lady Maude Kirton's +regard for Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Has it?" returned Lady Maude, with a cool tone and a glowing face. "You +are angry with me without reason. Have I not offered to swear to you an +eternal friendship?"</p> + +<p>Anne shook her head, and her lips parted with a curious expression. "I do +not swear so lightly, Lady Maude."</p> + +<p>"What if I were to avow to you that it is true?—that I do love Lord +Hartledon, deeply as it is known you love his brother," she added, +dropping her voice—"would you believe me?"</p> + +<p>Anne looked at the speaker's face, but could read nothing. Was she in +jest or earnest?</p> + +<p>"No, I would not believe you," she said, with a smile. "If you did love +him, you would not proclaim it."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I was jesting. What is Lord Hartledon to me?—save that we are +cousins, and passably good friends. I must avow one thing, that I like +him better than I do his brother."</p> + +<p>"For that no avowal is necessary," said Anne; "the fact is sufficiently +evident."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Anne;" and for once Maude spoke earnestly. "I do <i>not</i> +like Percival Elster. But I will always be civil to him for your sweet +sake."</p> + +<p>"Why do you dislike him?—if I may ask it. Have you any particular reason +for doing so?"</p> + +<p>"I have no reason in the world. He is a good-natured, gentlemanly fellow; +and I know no ill of him, except that he is always getting into scrapes, +and dropping, as I hear, a lot of money. But if he got out of his last +guinea, and went almost in rags, it would be nothing to me; so <i>that's</i> +not it. One does take antipathies; I dare say you do, Miss Ashton. What a +blessing Hartledon did not die in that fever he caught last year! Val +would have inherited. What a mercy!"</p> + +<p>"That he lived? or that Val is not Lord Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Both. But I believe I meant that Val is not reigning."</p> + +<p>"You think he would not have made a worthy inheritor?"</p> + +<p>"A worthy inheritor? Oh, I was not glancing at that phase of the +question. Here he comes! I will give up my seat to him."</p> + +<p>It is possible Lady Maude expected some pretty phrases of affection; +begging her to keep it. If so, she was mistaken. Anne Ashton was one of +those essentially quiet, self-possessed girls in society, whose manners +seem almost to border on apathy. She did not say "Do go," or "Don't go." +She was perfectly passive; and Maude moved away half ashamed of herself, +and feeling, in spite of her jealousy and her prejudice, that if ever +there was a ladylike girl upon earth, it was Anne Ashton.</p> + +<p>"How do you like her, Anne?" asked Val Elster, dropping into the vacant +place.</p> + +<p>"Not much."</p> + +<p>"Don't you? She is very handsome."</p> + +<p>"Very handsome indeed. Quite beautiful. But still I don't like her."</p> + +<p>"You would like her if you knew her. She has a rare spirit, only the old +dowager keeps it down."</p> + +<p>"I don't think she much likes you, Val."</p> + +<p>"She is welcome to dislike me," returned Val Elster.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>AT THE BRIDGE.</h3> + + +<p>The famous boat-race was postponed. Some of the competitors had +discovered they should be the better for a few days' training, and the +contest was fixed for the following Monday.</p> + +<p>Not a day of the intervening week but sundry small cockle-shells—things +the ladies had already begun to designate as the "wager-boats," each +containing a gentleman occupant, exercising his arms on a pair of +sculls—might be seen any hour passing and repassing on the water; and +the green slopes of Hartledon, which here formed the bank of the river, +grew to be tenanted with fair occupants. Of course they had their +favourites, these ladies, and their little bets of gloves on them.</p> + +<p>As the day for the contest drew near the interest became really exciting; +and on the Saturday morning there was quite a crowd on the banks. The +whole week, since Monday, had been most beautiful—calm, warm, lovely. +Percival Elster, in his rather idle fashion, was not going to join in the +contest: there were enough without him, he said.</p> + +<p>He was standing now, talking to Anne. His face wore a sad expression, +as she glanced up at him from beneath the white feather of her rather +large-brimmed straw hat. Anne had been a great deal at Hartledon that +week, and was as interested in the race as any of them, wearing Lord +Hartledon's colours.</p> + +<p>"How did you hear it, Anne?" he was asking.</p> + +<p>"Mamma told me. She came into my room just now, and said there had been +words."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's true. The doctor took me to task exactly as he used to do +when I was a boy. He said my course of life was sinful; and I rather +fired up at that. Idle and useless it may be, but sinful it is not: +and I said so. He explained that he meant that, and persisted in his +assertion—that an idle, aimless, profitless life was a sinful one. Do +you know the rest?"</p> + +<p>"No," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"He said he would give me to the end of the year. And if I were then +still pursuing my present frivolous course of life, doing no good to +myself or to anyone else, he should cancel the engagement. My darling, +I see how this pains you."</p> + +<p>She was suppressing her tears with difficulty. "Papa will be sure to keep +his word, Percival. He is so resolute when he thinks he is right."</p> + +<p>"The worst is, it's true. I do fall into all sorts of scrapes, and I have +got out of money, and I do idle my time away," acknowledged the young man +in his candour. "And all the while, Anne, I am thinking and hoping to do +right. If ever I get set on my legs again, <i>won't</i> I keep on them!"</p> + +<p>"But how many times have you said so before!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Half the follies for which I am now paying were committed when I was but +a boy," he said. "One of the men now visiting here, Dawkes, persuaded me +to put my name to a bill for him for fifteen hundred pounds, and I had to +pay it. It hampered me for years; and in the end I know I must have paid +it twice over. I might have pleaded that I was under age when he got my +signature, but it would have been scarcely honourable to do so."</p> + +<p>"And you never profited by the transaction?"</p> + +<p>"Never by a sixpence. It was done for Dawkes's accommodation, not mine. +He ought to have paid it, you say? My dear, he is a man of straw, and +never had fifteen hundred pounds of his own in his life."</p> + +<p>"Does Lord Hartledon know of this? I wonder he has him here."</p> + +<p>"I did not mention it at the time; and the thing's past and done with. I +only tell you now to give you an idea of the nature of my embarrassments +and scrapes. Not one in ten has really been incurred for myself: they +only fall upon me. One must buy experience."</p> + +<p>Terribly vexed was that sweet face, an almost painful sadness upon the +generally sunny features.</p> + +<p>"I will never give you up, Anne," he continued, with emotion. "I told the +doctor so. I would rather give up life. And you know that your love is +mine."</p> + +<p>"But my duty is theirs. And if it came to a contest—Oh, Percival! you +know, you know which would have to give place. Papa is so resolute in +right."</p> + +<p>"It's a shame that fortune should be so unequally divided!" cried the +young man, resentfully. "Here's Edward with an income of thirty thousand +a year, and I, his own brother, only a year or two younger, can't boast a +fourth part as many hundreds!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Val! your father left you better off than that!"</p> + +<p>"But so much of it went, Anne," was the gloomy answer. "I never +understood the claims that came in against me, for my part. Edward had no +debts to speak of; but then look at his allowance."</p> + +<p>"He was the eldest son," she gently said.</p> + +<p>"I know that. I am not wishing myself in Edward's place, or he out of it. +I heartily wish him health and a long life to wear his honours; it is no +fault of his that he should be rolling in riches, and I a martyr to +poverty. Still, one can't help feeling at odd moments, when the shoe's +pinching awfully, that the system is not altogether a just one."</p> + +<p>"Was that a sincere wish, Val Elster?"</p> + +<p>Val wheeled round on Lady Maude, from whom the question came. She had +stolen up to them unperceived, and stood there in her radiant beauty, her +magnificent dark eyes and her glowing cheeks set off by a little +coquettish black-velvet hat.</p> + +<p>"A sincere wish—that my brother should live long to enjoy his honours!" +echoed Val, in a surprised tone. "Indeed it is. I hope he will live to a +green old age, and leave goodly sons to succeed him."</p> + +<p>Maude laughed. A brighter hue stole into her face, a softer shade to her +eyes: she saw herself, as in a vision, the goodly mother of those goodly +sons.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to wear <i>that</i>?" she asked, touching the knot of ribbon in +Miss Ashton's hands with her petulant fingers. "They are Lord Hartledon's +colours."</p> + +<p>"I shall wear it on Monday. Lord Hartledon gave it to me."</p> + +<p>A rash avowal. The competitors, in a sort of joke, had each given away +one knot of his own colours. Lady Maude had had three given to her; but +she was looking for another worth them all—from Lord Hartledon. And +now—it was given, it appeared, to Anne Ashton! For her very life she +could not have helped the passionate taunt that escaped from her, not in +words, but in tone:</p> + +<p>"To <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Kissing goes by favour," broke from the delicate lips of Val Elster, and +Lady Maude could have struck him for the significant, saucy expression of +his violet-blue eyes. "Edward loves Anne better than he ever loved his +sisters; and for any other love—<i>that's</i> still far enough from his +heart, Maude."</p> + +<p>She had recovered herself instantly; cried out "Yes" to those in the +distance, as if she heard a call, and went away humming a tune.</p> + +<p>"Val, she loves your brother," whispered Anne.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? I do sometimes; and again I'm puzzled. She acts well +if she does. The other day I told Edward she was in love with him: he +laughed at me, and said I was dreaming; that if she had any love for him, +it was cousin's love. What's more, Anne, he would prefer not to receive +any other; so Maude need not look after him: it will be labour lost. Here +comes that restless old dowager down upon us! I shall leave you to her, +Anne. I never dare say my soul's my own in the presence of that woman."</p> + +<p>Val strolled away as he spoke. He was not at ease that day, and the +sharp, meddling old woman would have been intolerable. It was all very +well to put a good face on matters to Anne, but he was in more perplexity +than he cared to confess to. It seemed to him that he would rather die +than give up Anne: and yet—in the straightforward, practical good sense +of Dr. Ashton, he had a formidable adversary to deal with.</p> + +<p>He suddenly found an arm inserted within his own, and saw it was his +brother. Walking together thus, there was a great resemblance between +them.</p> + +<p>They were of the same height, much the same build; both were very +good-looking men, but Percival had the nicer features; and he was fair, +and his brother dark.</p> + +<p>"What is this, Val, about a dispute with the doctor?" began Lord +Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"It was not a dispute," returned Val. "There were a few words, and I was +hasty. However, I begged his pardon, and we parted good friends."</p> + +<p>"Under a flag of truce, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Something of that sort."</p> + +<p>"Something of that sort!" repeated Lord Hartledon. "Don't you think, Val, +it would be to your advantage if you trusted me more thoroughly than you +do? Tell me the whole truth of your position, and let me see what can be +done for you."</p> + +<p>"There's not much to tell," returned Val, in his stupidity. Even with his +brother his ultra-sensitiveness clung to him; and he could no more have +confessed the extent of his troubles than he could have taken wing that +moment and soared away into the air. Val Elster was one of those who +trust to things "coming right" with time.</p> + +<p>"I have been talking to the doctor, Val. I called in just now to see Mrs. +Ashton, and he spoke to me about you."</p> + +<p>"Very kind of him, I'm sure!" retorted Val. "It is just this, Edward. He +is vexed at what he calls my idle ways, and waste of time: as if I need +plod on, like a city clerk, six days a week and no holidays! I know I +must do something before I can win Anne; and I will do it: but the doctor +need not begin to cry out about cancelling the engagement."</p> + +<p>"How much do you owe, Val?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon thought this an evasion. But it was true. Val Elster knew +he owed a great deal more than he could pay; but how much it might be on +the whole, he had but a very faint idea.</p> + +<p>"Well, Val, I have told the doctor I shall look into matters, and I hope +to do it efficiently, for Anne's sake. I suppose the best thing will be +to try and get you an appointment again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Edward, if you would! And you know you have the ear of the +ministry."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it can be managed. But this will be of little use if you are +still to remain an embarrassed man. I hear you were afraid of arrest in +London."</p> + +<p>"Who told you that?"</p> + +<p>"Dawkes."</p> + +<p>"Dawkes! Then, Edward—" Val Elster stopped. In his vexation, he was +about to retaliate on Captain Dawkes by a little revelation on the score +of <i>his</i> affairs, certain things that might not have redounded to that +gallant officer's credit. But he arrested the words in time: he was of a +kindly nature, not fond of returning ill for ill. With all his follies, +Val Elster could not remember to have committed an evil act in all his +life, save one. And that one he had still the pleasure of paying for +pretty deeply.</p> + +<p>"Dawkes knows nothing of my affairs except from hearsay, Edward. I was +once intimate with the man; but he served me a shabby trick, and that +ended the friendship. I don't like him."</p> + +<p>"I dare say what he said was not true," said Lord Hartledon kindly. "You +might as well make a confidant of me. However, I have not time to talk +to-day. We will go into the matter, Val, after Monday, when this race has +come off, and see what arrangement can be made for you. There's only one +thing bothers me."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"The danger that it may be a wasted arrangement. If you are only set up +on your legs to come down again, as you have before, it will be so much +waste of time and money; so much loss, to me, of temper. Don't you see, +Val?"</p> + +<p>Percival Elster stopped in his walk, and withdrew his arm from his +brother's; his face and voice full of emotion.</p> + +<p>"Edward, I have learnt a lesson. What it has cost me I hardly yet know: +but it is <i>learnt</i>. On my sacred word of honour, in the solemn presence +of Heaven, I assert it, that I will never put my hand to another bill, +whatever may be the temptation. I have overcome, in this respect at +least, my sin."</p> + +<p>"Your sin?"</p> + +<p>"My nature's great sin; the besetting sin that has clung to me through +life; the unfortunate sin that is my bane to this hour—cowardly +irresolution."</p> + +<p>"All right, Val; I see you mean well now. We'll talk of these matters +next week. Instead of Elster's Folly, let it become Elster's Wisdom."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon wrung his brother's hand and turned away. His eyes fell on +Miss Ashton, and he went straight up to her. Putting the young lady's arm +within his own, without word or ceremony, he took her off to a distance: +and old Lady Kirton's skirts went round in a dance as she saw it.</p> + +<p>"I am about to take him in hand, Anne, and set him going again: I have +promised Dr. Ashton. We must get him a snug berth; one that even the +doctor won't object to, and set him straight in other matters. If he has +mortgaged his patrimony, it shall be redeemed. And, Anne, I think—I do +think—he may be trusted to keep straight for the future."</p> + +<p>Her soft sweet eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her lips parted with a +sunny smile. Lord Hartledon took her hand within his own as it lay on his +arm, and the furious old dowager saw it all from the distance.</p> + +<p>"Don't say as much as this to him, Anne: I only tell you. Val is so +sanguine, that it may be better not to tell him all beforehand. And I +want, of course, first of all, to get a true list of—that is, a true +statement of facts," he broke off, not caring to speak the word "debts" +to that delicate girl before him. "He is my only brother; my father left +him to me, for he knew what Val was; and I'll do my best for him. I'd do +it for Val's own sake, apart from the charge. And, Anne, once Val is on +his legs with an income, snug and comfortable, I shall recommend him to +marry without delay; for, after all, you will be his greatest safeguard."</p> + +<p>A blush suffused her face, and Lord Hartledon smiled.</p> + +<p>Down came the countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"Here's that old dowager calling to me. She never lets me alone. Val sent +me into a fit of laughter yesterday, saying she had designs on me for +Maude. Poor deluded woman! Yes, ma'am, I hear. What is it?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Elster went strolling along on the banks of the river, towards Calne; +not with any particular purpose, but in his restless uneasiness. He had a +tender conscience, and his past follies were pressing on it heavily. Of +one thing he felt sure—that he was more deeply involved than Hartledon +or anyone else suspected, perhaps even himself. The way was charming in +fine weather, though less pleasant in winter. It was by no means a +frequented road, and belonged of right to Lord Hartledon only; but it was +open to all. Few chose it when they could traverse the more ordinary way. +The narrow path on the green plain, sheltered by trees, wound in and out, +now on the banks of the river, now hidden amidst a portion of the wood. +Altogether it was a wild and lonely pathway; not one that a timid nature +would choose on a dark night. You might sit in the wood, which lay to the +left, a whole day through, and never see a soul.</p> + +<p>One part of the walk was especially beautiful. A green hollow, where the +turf was soft as moss; open to the river on the right, with a glimpse of +the lovely scenery beyond; and on the left, the clustering trees of the +wood. Yet further, through a break in the trees, might be seen a view of +the houses of Calne. A little stream, or rivulet, trickled from the wood, +and a rustic bridge—more for ornament than use, for a man with long legs +could stride the stream well—was thrown over it. Val had reached thus +far, when he saw someone standing on the bridge, his arms on the parapet, +apparently in a brown study.</p> + +<p>A dark, wild-looking man, whose face, at the first glimpse, seemed all +hair. There was certainly a profusion of it; eyebrows, beard, whiskers, +all heavy, and black as night. He was attired in loose fustian clothes +with a red handkerchief wound round his throat, and a low slouching +hat—one of those called wide-awake—partially concealed his features. By +his side stood another man in plain, dark, rather seedy clothes, the coat +outrageously long. He wore a cloth hat, whose brim hid his face, and he +was smoking a cigar. Both men were slightly built and under middle +height. This one was adorned with red whiskers.</p> + +<p>The moment Mr. Elster set eyes on the dark one, he felt that he saw the +man Pike before him. It happened that he had not met him during these few +days of his sojourn; but some of the men staying at Hartledon had, and +had said what a loose specimen he appeared to be. The other was a +stranger, and did not look like a countryman at all.</p> + +<p>Mr. Elster saw them both give a sharp look at him as he approached; +and then they spoke together. Both stepped off the bridge, as though +deferring to him, and stood aside as they watched him cross over, Pike +touching his wide-awake.</p> + +<p>"Good-day, my lord."</p> + +<p>Val nodded by way of answer, and continued his stroll onwards. In the +look he had taken at Pike, it struck him he had seen the face before: +something in the countenance seemed familiar to his memory. And to his +surprise he saw that the man was young.</p> + +<p>The supposed reminiscence did not trouble him: he was too pre-occupied +with thoughts of his own affairs to have leisure for Mr. Pike's. A short +bit of road, and this rude, sheltered part of the way terminated in more +open ground, where three paths diverged: one to the front of Hartledon; +one to some cottages, and on through the wood to the high-road; and one +towards the Rectory and Calne. Rural paths still, all of them; and the +last was provided with a bench or two. Val Elster strolled on almost to +the Rectory, and then turned back: he had no errand at Calne, and the +Rectory he would rather keep out of just now. When he reached the little +bridge Pike was on it alone; the other had disappeared. As before, he +stepped off to make way for Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir, for addressing you just now as Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>The salutation took Val by surprise; and though the voice seemed muffled, +as though the man purposely mouthed his words, the accent and language +were superior to anything he might have expected from one of Mr. Pike's +appearance and reputed character.</p> + +<p>"No matter," said Val, courteous even to Pike, in his kindly nature. "You +mistook me for my brother. Many do."</p> + +<p>"Not I," returned the man, assuming a freedom and a roughness at variance +with his evident intelligence. "I know you for the Honourable Percival +Elster."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Mr. Elster, a slight curiosity stirring his mind, but not +sufficient to induce him to follow it up.</p> + +<p>"But I like to do a good turn if I can," pursued Pike; "and I think, sir, +I did one to you in calling you Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>Val Elster had been passing on. He turned and looked at the man.</p> + +<p>"Are you in any little temporary difficulty, might I ask?" continued +Pike. "No offense, sir; princes have been in such before now."</p> + +<p>Val Elster was so supremely conscious, especially in that reflective +hour, of being in a "little difficulty" that might prove more than +temporary, that he could only stare at the questioner and wait for more.</p> + +<p>"No offence again, if I'm wrong," resumed Pike; "but if that man you saw +here on the bridge is not looking after the Honourable Mr. Elster, I'm a +fool."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think this?" inquired Val, too fully aware that the fact was +a likely one to attempt any reproof or disavowal.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," said Pike; "I've said I don't mind doing a good turn +when I can. The man arrived here this morning by the slow six train from +London. He went into the Stag and had his breakfast, and has been +covertly dodging about ever since. He inquired his way to Hartledon. The +landlord of the Stag asked him what he wanted there, and got for answer +that his brother was one of the grooms in my lord's service. Bosh! He +went up, sneaking under the hedges and along by-ways, and took a view of +the house, standing a good hour behind a tree while he did it. I was +watching him."</p> + +<p>It instantly struck Percival Elster, by one of those flashes of +conviction that are no less sure than subtle, that Mr. Pike's interest in +this watching arose from a fear that the stranger might have been looking +after <i>him</i>. Pike continued:</p> + +<p>"After he had taken his fill of waiting, he came dodging down this way, +and I got into conversation with him. He wanted to know who I was. A poor +devil out of work, I told him; a soldier once, but maimed and good for +little now. We got chatty. I let him think he might trust me, and he +began asking no end of questions about Mr. Elster: whether he went out +much, what were his hours for going out, which road he mostly took in his +walks, and how he could know him from his brother the earl; he had heard +they were alike. The hound was puzzled; he had seen a dozen swells come +out of Hartledon, any one of which might be Mr. Elster; but I found he +had the description pretty accurate. Whilst we were talking, who should +come into view but yourself! 'This is him!' cried he. 'Not a bit of it,' +said I, carelessly; 'that's my lord.' Now you know, sir, why I saluted +you as Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?" asked Percival Elster, feeling that he owed his +present state of liberty to this lawless man.</p> + +<p>Pike pointed to the narrow path in the wood, leading to the high-road. +"I filled him up with the belief that the way beyond this bridge up to +Hartledon was private, and he might be taken up for trespassing if he +attempted to follow it; so he went off that way to watch the front. If +the fellow hasn't a writ in his pocket, or something worse, call me a +simpleton. You are all right, sir, as long as he takes you for Lord +Hartledon."</p> + +<p>But there was little chance the fellow could long take him for Lord +Hartledon, and Percival Elster felt himself attacked with a shiver. He +knew it to be worse than a writ; it was an arrest. An arrest is not a +pleasant affair for any one; but a strong opinion—a certainty—seized +upon Val's mind that this would bring forth Dr. Ashton's veto of +separation from Anne.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for what you have done," frankly spoke Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing, sir. He'll be dodging about after his prey; but I'll dodge +about too, and thwart his game if I can, though I have to swear that Lord +Hartledon's not himself. What's an oath, more or less, to me?"</p> + +<p>"Where have I seen you before?" asked Val.</p> + +<p>"Hard to say," returned Pike. "I have knocked about in many parts in my +time."</p> + +<p>"Are you from this neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"Never was in these parts at all till a year or so ago. It's not two +years yet."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"What I can. A bit of work when I can get it given to me. I went tramping +the country after I left the regiment—"</p> + +<p>"Then you have been a soldier?" interrupted Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. In tramping the country I came upon this place: I crept into +a shed, and was there for some days; rheumatism took hold of me, and I +couldn't move. It was something to find I had a roof of any sort over my +head, and was let lie in it unmolested: and when I got better I stayed +on."</p> + +<p>"And have adopted it as your own, putting a window and a chimney into it! +But do you know that Lord Hartledon may not choose to retain you as a +tenant?"</p> + +<p>"If Lord Hartledon should think of ousting me, I would ask Mr. Elster to +intercede, in requital for the good turn I've done him this day," was the +bold answer.</p> + +<p>Mr. Elster laughed. "What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Tom Pike."</p> + +<p>"I hear a great deal said of you, Pike, that's not pleasant; that you are +a poacher, and a—"</p> + +<p>"Let them that say so prove it," interrupted Pike, his dark brows +contracting.</p> + +<p>"But how do you manage to live?"</p> + +<p>"That's my business, and not Calne's. At any rate, Mr. Elster, I don't +steal."</p> + +<p>"I heard a worse hint dropped of you than any I have mentioned," +continued Val, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Tell it out, sir. Let's have the whole catalogue at once."</p> + +<p>"That the night my brother, Mr. Elster, was shot, you were out with the +poachers."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you heard that I shot him, for I know it has been said," +fiercely cried the man. "It's a black lie!—and the time may come when I +shall ram it down Calne's throat. I swear that I never fired a shot that +night; I swear that I no more had a hand in Mr. Elster's death than you +had. Will you believe me, sir?"</p> + +<p>The accents of truth are rarely to be mistaken, and Val was certain he +heard them now. So far, he believed the man; and from that moment +dismissed the doubt from his mind, if indeed he had not dismissed it +before.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who did fire the shot?"</p> + +<p>"I do not; I was not out at all that night. Calne pitched upon me, +because there was no one else in particular to pitch upon. A dozen +poachers were in the fray, most of them with guns; little wonder the +random shot from one should have found a mark. I know nothing more +certain than that, so help—"</p> + +<p>"That will do," interrupted Mr. Elster, arresting what might be coming; +for he disliked strong language. "I believe you fully, Pike. What part of +the country were you born in?"</p> + +<p>"London. Born and bred in it."</p> + +<p>"That I do not believe," he said frankly. "Your accent is not that of a +Londoner."</p> + +<p>"As you will, sir," returned Pike. "My mother was from Devonshire; but I +was born and bred in London. I recognized that one with the writ for a +fellow cockney at once; and for what he was, too—a sheriffs officer. +Shouldn't be surprised but I knew him for one years ago."</p> + +<p>Val Elster dropped a coin into the man's hand, and bade him good morning. +Pike touched his wide-awake, and reiterated his intention of "dodging the +enemy." But, as Mr. Elster 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.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>LISTENERS.</h3> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"I don't see him. He has not come to-day."</p> + +<p>"Which is Mr. Elster?"</p> + +<p>"He has not come, either." So for that day recognition was escaped.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"The Honourable Percival Elster, I believe?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked at the intruder. A seedy man, with a long coat and +red whiskers, who held out something to him.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he asked, releasing his shoulder by a sharp movement.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Lord Hartledon, taking the matter coolly. "You have got +hold of the wrong man for once. I am not Mr. Percival Elster."</p> + +<p>The capturer laughed: a very civil laugh. "It won't do, sir; we often +have that trick tried on us."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you I am <i>not</i> Mr. Elster," he reiterated, speaking this time +with some anger. "I am Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"As well make no words over it, sir. It's only waste of time."</p> + +<p>"You have a warrant—as I understand—to arrest Mr. Percival Elster?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I've known that dodge tried before too," said his obstinate capturer.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Will you be so kind as to tell this man who I am, Mr. Gum. He is +mistaking me for some one else."</p> + +<p>"This is the Earl of Hartledon," said Jabez, promptly.</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What is the amount?" called the doctor, sternly.</p> + +<p>"Not very much, <i>this</i>, sir. It's under three hundred."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The first intimation that ill-starred gentleman received of the untoward +turn affairs were taking was from the Rector himself.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Others have done so much before me, sir, and have not made the less good +men," spoke Val, in his desperation.</p> + +<p>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 <i>her</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>there</i> with the news! Anywhere else—anywhere but the Rectory!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, lost his temper; and +for once there was a quarrel, sharp and loud, between the brothers. It +did not last long; in its very midst they parted; throwing cutting words +one at the other. Lord Hartledon quitted the room, to join his guests; +Val Elster strode outside the window to cool his brain.</p> + +<p>But now, look at the obstinate pride of those two foolish men! They were +angry with each other in temper, but not in heart. In Percival Elster's +conscience there was an underlying conviction that his brother had acted +only in thoughtless impulse when he carried the misfortune to the +Rectory; whilst Lord Hartledon was even then full of plans for serving +Val, and considered he had more need to help him than ever. A day or two +given to the indulgence of their anger, and they would be firmer friends +than ever.</p> + +<p>The large French window of the dining-room, opening to the ground, was +flung back by Val Elster; and he stepped forth into the cool night, which +was beautifully fine. The room looked towards the river. The velvet lawn, +wet with the day's rain, lay calm and silent under the bright stars; the +flowers, clustering around far and wide, gave out their sweet and heavy +night perfume. Not an instant had he been outside when he became +conscious that some figure was gliding towards him—was almost close to +him; and he recognised Mr. Pike. Yes, that worthy gentleman appeared to +be only then arriving on his evening visit: in point of fact, he had been +glued ear and eye to the window during the quarrel.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" demanded Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"Well, I came up here hoping to get a word with you, sir," replied the +man in his rough, abrupt manner, more in character with his appearance +and lawless reputation than with his accent and unmistakable +intelligence. "There was a nasty accident a few hours ago: that shark +came across his lordship."</p> + +<p>"I know he did," savagely spoke Val. "The result of your informing him +that I was Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"I did it for the best, Mr. Elster. He'd have nabbed you that very time, +but for my putting him off the scent as I did."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I am aware you did it for the best, and I suppose it turned +out to be so," quickly replied Val, some of his native kindliness +resuming its sway. "It's an unfortunate affair altogether, and that's +the best that can be said of it."</p> + +<p>"What I came up here for was to tell you he was gone."</p> + +<p>"Who is gone?"</p> + +<p>"The shark."</p> + +<p>"Gone!"</p> + +<p>"He went off by the seven train. Lord Hartledon told him he'd communicate +with his principals and see that the affair was arranged. It satisfied +the man, and he went away by the next train—which happened to be the +seven-o'clock one."</p> + +<p>"How do you know this?" asked Mr. Elster.</p> + +<p>"This way," was the answer. "I was hovering about outside that shed of +mine, and I saw the encounter at the parson's gate—for that's where it +took place. The first thing the fellow did when it was all over was to +bolt across the road, and accuse me of purposely misleading him. 'Not a +bit of it,' said I; 'if I did mislead you, it was unintentional, for I +took the one who came over the bridge on Saturday to be Lord Hartledon, +safe as eggs. But they have been down here only a week,' I went on, 'and +I suppose I don't know 'em apart yet.' I can't say whether he believed +me; I think he did; he's a soft sort of chap. It was all right, he said: +the earl had passed his word to him that it should be made so without his +arresting Mr. Elster, and he was off to London at once."</p> + +<p>"And he has gone?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Pike nodded significantly. "I watched him go; dodged him up to the +station and saw him off."</p> + +<p>Then this one danger was over! Val might breathe freely again.</p> + +<p>"And I thought you would like to know the coast was clear; so I came up +to tell you," concluded Pike.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for your trouble," said Mr. Elster. "I shall not forget it."</p> + +<p>"You'll remember it, perhaps, if a question arises touching that shed," +spoke the man. "I may need a word sometime with Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember it, Pike. Here, wait a moment. Is Thomas Pike your real +name?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I conclude it is. Pike was the name of my father and mother. As to +Thomas—not knowing where I was christened, I can't go and look at the +register; but they never called me anything but Tom. Did you wish to know +particularly?"</p> + +<p>There was a tone of mockery in the man's answer, not altogether +acceptable to his hearer; and he let him go without further hindrance. +But the man turned back in an instant of his own accord.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you are wanting to know why I did you this little turn, Mr. +Elster. I have been caught in corners myself before now; and if I can +help anybody to get out of them without trouble to myself, I'm willing to +do it. And to circumvent these law-sharks comes home to my spirit as +wholesome refreshment."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pike finally departed. He took the lonely way, and only struck into +the high-road opposite his own domicile, the shed. Passing round it, he +hovered at its rude door—the one he had himself made, along with the +ruder window—and then, treading softly, he stepped to the low stile in +the hedge, which had for years made the boundary between the waste land +on which the shed stood and Clerk Gum's garden. Here he halted a minute, +looking all ways. Then he stepped over the stile, crouched down amongst +Mr. Gum's cabbages, got under shelter of the hedge, and so stole onwards, +until he came to an anchor at the kitchen-window, and laid his ear to the +shutter, just as it had recently been laid against the glass in the +dining-room of my Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>That he had a propensity for prying into the private affairs of his +neighbours near and distant, there could be little doubt about. Mr. Pike, +however, was not destined on this one occasion to reap any substantial +reward. The kitchen appeared to be wrapped in perfect silence. Satisfying +himself as to this, he next took off his heavy shoes, stole past the back +door, and so round the clerk's house to the front. Very softly indeed +went he, creeping by the wall, and emerging at last round the angle, by +the window of the best parlour. Here, most excessively to Mr. Pike's +consternation, he came upon a lady doing exactly what he had come to +do—namely, stealthily listening at the window to anything there might be +to hear inside.</p> + +<p>The shrill scream she gave when she found her face in contact with the +wild intruder, might have been heard over at Dr. Ashton's. Clerk Gum, who +had been quietly writing in his office, came out in haste, and recognized +Mrs. Jones, the wife of the surly porter at the station, and step-mother +to the troublesome young servant, Rebecca. Pike had totally disappeared.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones, partly through fright, partly in anger arising from a +long-standing grievance, avowed the truth boldly: she had been listening +at the parlour-shutters ever since she went out of the house ten minutes +ago, and had been set upon by that wolf Pike.</p> + +<p>"Set upon!" exclaimed the clerk, looking swiftly in all directions for +the offender.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what else you can call it, when a highway robber—a +murderer, if all tales be true—steals round upon you without warning, +and glares his eyes into yours," shrieked Mrs. Jones wrathfully. "And if +he wasn't barefoot, Gum, my eyes strangely deceived me. I'd have you and +Nancy take care of your throats."</p> + +<p>She turned into the house, to the best parlour, where the clerk's wife +was sitting with a visitor, Mirrable. Mrs. Gum, when she found what the +commotion had been about, gave a sharp cry of terror, and shook from head +to foot.</p> + +<p>"On our premises! Close to our house! That dreadful man! Oh, Lydia, don't +you think you were mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"Mistaken!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "That wild face isn't one to be +mistaken: I should like to see its fellow in Calne. Why Lord Hartledon +don't have him taken up on suspicion of that murder, is odd to me."</p> + +<p>"You'd better hold your tongue about that suspicion," interposed +Mirrable. "I have cautioned you before, <i>I</i> shouldn't like to breathe +a word against a desperate man; I should go about in fear that he might +hear of it, and revenge himself."</p> + +<p>In came the clerk. "I don't see a sign of any one about," he said; "and +I'm sure whoever it was could not have had time to get away. You must +have been mistaken, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Mistaken in what, pray?"</p> + +<p>"That any man was there. You got confused, and fancied it, perhaps. As to +Pike, he'd never dare come on my premises, whether by night or day. What +were you doing at the window?"</p> + +<p>"Listening," defiantly replied Mrs. Jones. "And now I'll just tell out +what I've had in my head this long while, Mr. Gum, and know the reason of +Nancy's slighting me in the way she does. What secret has she and Mary +Mirrable got between them?"</p> + +<p>"Secret?" repeated the clerk, whilst his wife gave a faint cry, and +Mirrable turned her calm face on Mrs. Jones. "Have they a secret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they have," raved Mrs. Jones, giving vent to her long pent-up +emotion. "If they haven't, I'm blind and deaf. If I have come into your +house once during the past year and found Mrs. Mirrable in it, and the +two sitting and whispering, I've come ten times. This evening I came in +at dusk; I turned the handle of the door and peeped into the best +parlour, and there they were, nose and knees together, starting away +from each other as soon as they saw me, Nance giving one of her faint +cries, and the two making believe to have been talking of the weather. +It's always so. And I want to know what secret they have got hold of, and +whether I'm poison, that I can't be trusted with it."</p> + +<p>Jabez Gum slowly turned his eyes on the two in question. His wife lifted +her hands in deprecation at the idea that she should have a secret: +Mirrable was laughing.</p> + +<p>"Nancy's secret to-night, when you interrupted us, was telling me of a +dream she had regarding Lord Hartledon, and of how she mistook Mr. Elster +for him the morning he came down," cried the latter. "And if you have +really been listening at the shutters since you went out, Mrs. Jones, you +should by this time know how to pickle walnuts in the new way: for I +declare that is all our conversation has been about since. You always +were suspicious, you know, and you always will be."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mrs. Jones," said the clerk, decisively; "I don't choose to +have my shutters listened at: it might give the house a bad name, for +quarrelling, or something of that sort. So I'll trouble you not to repeat +what you have done to-night, or I shall forbid your coming here. A +secret, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a secret!" persisted Mrs. Jones. "And if I don't come at what it is +one of these days, my name's not Lydia Jones. And I'll tell you why. It +strikes me—I may be wrong—but it strikes me it concerns me and my +husband and my household, which some folks are ever ready to interfere +with. I'll take myself off now; and I would recommend you, as a parting +warning, to denounce Pike to the police for an attempt at housebreaking, +before you're both murdered in your bed. That'll be the end on't."</p> + +<p>She went away, and Clerk Gum wished he could denounce <i>her</i> to the +police. Mirrable laughed again; and Mrs. Gum, cowardly and timid, fell +back in her chair as one seized with ague.</p> + +<p>Beyond giving an occasional dole to Mrs. Jones for her children—and +to tell the truth, she clothed them all, or they would have gone in +rags—Mirrable had shaken her cousin off long ago: which of course did +not tend to soothe the naturally jealous spirit of Mrs. Jones. At +Hartledon House she was not welcomed, and could not go there; but she +watched for the visits of Mirrable at the clerk's, and was certain to +intrude on those occasions.</p> + +<p>"I'll find it out!" she repeated to herself, as she went storming through +the garden-gate; "I'll find it out. And as to that poacher, he'd better +bring his black face near mine again!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE WAGER BOATS.</h3> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Pay it to-day, Marris," cried Lord Hartledon to his steward. "I won't +have this sort of thing at Calne."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Arthur came up with me: I don't know where he is now. Mamma was afraid +to venture, fearing the grass might be damp."</p> + +<p>"And the Rector <i>of course</i> would not countenance us by coming," said +Lord Hartledon, with a laugh. "I remember his prejudices against boating +of old."</p> + +<p>"He is coming to dinner."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What is it? Where are you going?" asked the O'Moore, who was the +appointed steward.</p> + +<p>"I have forgotten—" <i>What</i>, they did not catch; the word was lost on the +air.</p> + +<p>"It is bad luck to turn back," called out Maude. "You won't win."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. O'Moore held out his arm, and Hartledon took it. "The ground is not +slippery, Hart; it's as dry as a bone."</p> + +<p>"Then what caused me to slip?"</p> + +<p>"The rate you were coming at. Had you not better give up the contest, and +rest?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! My foot will be all right in the skiff. Let us get on; they'll +all be out of patience."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>She touched the knot on her bosom, and smiled back to him, her tone full +of earnestness. "I would wear them always."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it seemly, this flirtation of yours with Lord Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"The right of being Lord Hartledon's brother," carelessly replied Anne.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yet they are brothers still."</p> + +<p>"Brothers! I'll take care that Val Elster presumes no more upon the tie +when Maude reigns at—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But it is not true?" asked Anne, somewhat perplexed.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> 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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of, Anne?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"He slipped down on the slopes and twisted his ankle. I suppose they will +be coming back soon."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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 so; but when only a boat's +length from the winning-post another shot past him, and won by half a +length. It was the young Oxonian, Mr. Shute—though indeed it does not +much matter who it was, save that it was not Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Strike your colours, ladies, you that sport the crimson and purple!" +called out a laughing voice from one of the skiffs. "Oxford blue wins."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon arrived last. He did not get up for some minutes after the +rest were in. In short, he was distanced.</p> + +<p>"Hart has hurt his arm as well as his foot," observed one of the others, +as he came alongside. "That's why he got distanced."</p> + +<p>"No, it was not," dissented Lord Hartledon, looking up from his skiff at +the crowd of fair faces bent down upon him. "My arm is all right; it only +gave me a few twinges when I first started. My oar fouled, and I could +not get right again; so, finding I had lost too much ground, I gave up +the contest. Anne, had I known I should disgrace my colours, I would not +have given them to <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Miss Ashton loses, and Maude wins!" cried the countess-dowager, +executing a little dance of triumph. "Maude is the only one who wears +the Oxford blue."</p> + +<p>It was true. The young Oxonian was a retiring and timid man, and none had +voluntarily assumed his colours. But no one heeded the countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"You are like a child, Hartledon, denying that your arm's damaged!" +exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I know it is: I could see it by the way you +struck your oar all along."</p> + +<p>What feeling is it in man that prompts him to disclaim physical +pain?—make light of personal injury? Lord Hartledon's ankle was +swelling, at the bottom of the boat; and without the slightest doubt +his arm <i>was</i> paining him, although perhaps at the moment not very +considerably. But he maintained his own assertions, and protested his +arm was as sound as the best arm present. "I could go over the work again +with pleasure," cried he.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Hart! You could not."</p> + +<p>"And I <i>will</i> go over it," he added, warming with the opposition. "Who'll +try his strength with me? There's plenty of time before dinner."</p> + +<p>"I will," eagerly spoke young Carteret, who had been, as was remarked, +one of those on land, and was wild to be handling the oars. "If Dawkes +will let me have his skiff, I'll bet you ten to five you are distanced +again, Hartledon."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Lord Hartledon had not thought his challenge would be taken +seriously. But when he saw the eager, joyous look of the boy Carteret—he +was not yet nineteen—the flushed pleasure of the beardless face, he +would not have retracted it for the world. He was just as good-natured +as Percival Elster.</p> + +<p>"Dawkes will let you have his skiff, Carteret."</p> + +<p>Captain Dawkes was exceedingly glad to be rid of it. Good boatman though +he was, he rarely cared to spend his strength superfluously, when nothing +was to be gained by it, and had no fancy to row his skiff back to its +moorings, as most of the others were already doing with theirs. He leaped +out.</p> + +<p>"Any one but you, Hartledon, would be glad to come out of that +tilting thing, and enjoy a rest, and get your face cool," cried the +countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"I dare say they might, ma'am. I'm afraid I am given to obstinacy; always +was. Be quick, Carteret."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret was hastily stripping himself of his coat, and any odds and +ends of attire he deemed superfluous. "One moment, Hartledon; only one +moment," came the joyous response.</p> + +<p>"And you'll come home with your arm and your ankle like your colours, +Hartledon—crimson and purple," screamed the dowager. "And you'll be laid +up, and go on perhaps to locked jaw; and then you'll expect me to nurse +you!"</p> + +<p>"I shall expect nothing of the sort, ma'am, I pledge you my word; I'll +nurse myself. All ready, Carteret?"</p> + +<p>"All ready. Same point as before, Hart?"</p> + +<p>"Same point: round the boat and home again."</p> + +<p>"And it's ten sovs. to five, Hart?"</p> + +<p>"All right. You'll lose, Carteret."</p> + +<p>Carteret laughed. He saw the five sovereigns as surely in his possession +as he saw the sculls in his hands. There was no trouble with the start +this time, and they were off at once.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon took the lead. He was spurring his strength to the +uttermost: perhaps out of bravado; that he might show them nothing was +the matter with his arm. But Mr. Carteret gained on him; and as they +turned the point and went out of sight, the young man's boat was the +foremost.</p> + +<p>The race had been kept—as the sporting men amongst them styled it—dark. +Not an inkling of it had been suffered to get abroad, or, as Lord +Hartledon had observed, they should have the banks swarming. The +consequence was, that not more than half-a-dozen curious idlers had +assembled: those were on the opposite side, and had now gone down with +the boats to Calne. No spectators, either on the river or the shore, +attended this lesser contest: Lord Hartledon and Mr. Carteret had it all +to themselves.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile, during the time Lord Hartledon had remained at rest in his +skiff under the winning flag, Percival Elster never addressed one word to +him. There he stood, on the edge of the bank; but not a syllable spoke +he, good, bad, or indifferent.</p> + +<p>Miss Ashton was looking for her brother, and might just as well have +looked for a needle in a bottle of hay. Arthur was off somewhere.</p> + +<p>"You need not go home yet, Anne," said Val.</p> + +<p>"I must. I have to dress for dinner. It is all to be very smart to-night, +you know," she said, with a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>"With Shute in the post of honour. Who'd have thought that awkward, quiet +fellow would win? I will see you home, Anne, if you must go."</p> + +<p>Miss Ashton coloured vividly with embarrassment. In the present state of +affairs, she did not know whether that might be permitted: poor Val was +out of favour at the Rectory. He detected the feeling, and it tended to +vex him more and more.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Anne! The veto has not yet been interposed, and they can't +kill you for allowing my escort. Stay here if you like: if you go, I +shall see you home."</p> + +<p>It was quite imperative that she should go, for dinner at Hartledon was +that evening fixed for seven o'clock, and there would be little enough +time to dress and return again. They set out, walking side by side. Anne +told him of what Lord Hartledon had said to her that day; and Val +coloured with shame at the sullenness he had displayed, and his heart +went into a glow of repentance. Had he met his brother then, he had +clasped his hand, and poured forth his contrition.</p> + +<p>He met some one else instead, almost immediately. It was Dr. Ashton, +coming for Anne. Percival was not wanted now: was not invited to continue +his escort. A cold, civil word or two passed, and Val struck across the +grove into the high-road, and returned to Hartledon.</p> + +<p>He was about to turn in at the lodge-gates with his usual greeting to +Mrs. Capper when his attention was caught by a figure coming down the +avenue. A man in a long coat, his face ornamented with red whiskers. It +required no second glance for recognition. Whiskers and coat proclaimed +their owner at once; and if ever Val Elster's heart leaped into his +mouth, it certainly leaped then.</p> + +<p>He went on, instead of turning in; quietly, as if he were only a stranger +enjoying an evening stroll up the road; but the moment he was past the +gates he set off at breakneck speed, not heeding where. That the man was +there to arrest him, he felt as sure as he had ever felt of anything in +this world; and in his perplexity he began accusing every one of +treachery, Lord Hartledon and Pike in particular.</p> + +<p>The river at the back in this part took a sweeping curve, the road kept +straight; so that to arrive at a given point, the one would be more +quickly traversed than the other. On and on went Val Elster; and as soon +as an opening allowed, he struck into the brushwood on the right, +intending to make his way back by the river to Hartledon.</p> + +<p>But not yet. Not until the shades of night should fall on the earth: +he would have a better chance of getting away from that shark in the +darkness than by daylight. He propped his back against a tree and waited, +hating himself all the time for his cowardice. With all his scrapes and +dilemmas, he had never been reduced to this sort of hiding.</p> + +<p>And his pursuer had struck into the wood after him, passed straight +through it, though with some little doubt and difficulty, and was already +by the river-side, getting there just as Lord Hartledon was passing in +his skiff. Long as this may have seemed in telling, it took only a short +time to accomplish; still Lord Hartledon had not made quick way, or he +would have been further on his course in the race.</p> + +<p>Would the sun ever set?—daylight ever pass? Val thought <i>not</i>, in his +impatience; and he ventured out of his shelter very soon, and saw for his +reward—the long coat and red whiskers by the river-side, their owner +conversing with a man. Val went further away, keeping the direction of +the stream: the brushwood might no longer be safe. He did not think they +had seen him: the man he dreaded had his back to him, the other his face. +And that other was Pike.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>WAITING FOR DINNER.</h3> + + +<p>Dinner at Hartledon had been ordered for seven o'clock. It was beyond +that hour when Dr. Ashton arrived, for he had been detained—a +clergyman's time is not always under his own control. Anne and Arthur +were with him, but not Mrs. Ashton. He came in, ready with an apology for +his tardiness, but found he need not offer it; neither Lord Hartledon nor +his brother having yet appeared.</p> + +<p>"Hartledon and that boy Carteret have not returned home yet," said the +countess-dowager, in her fiercest tones, for she liked her dinner more +than any other earthly thing, and could not brook being kept waiting for +it. "And when they do come, they'll keep us another half-hour dressing."</p> + +<p>"I beg your ladyship's pardon—they have come," interposed Captain +Dawkes. "Carteret was going into his room as I came out of mine."</p> + +<p>"Time they were," grumbled the dowager. "They were not in five minutes +ago, for I sent to ask."</p> + +<p>"Which of the two won the race?" inquired Lady Maude of Captain Dawkes.</p> + +<p>"I don't think Carteret did," he replied, laughing. "He seemed as sulky +as a bear, and growled out that there had been no race, for Hartledon had +played him a trick."</p> + +<p>"What did he mean?"</p> + +<p>"Goodness knows."</p> + +<p>"I hope Hartledon upset him," charitably interrupted the dowager. "A +ducking would do that boy good; he is too forward by half."</p> + +<p>There was more waiting. The countess-dowager flounced about in her pink +satin gown; but it did not bring the loiterers any the sooner. Lady +Maude—perverse still, but beautiful—talked in whispers to the hero of +the day, Mr. Shute; wearing a blue-silk robe and a blue wreath in her +hair. Anne, adhering to the colours of Lord Hartledon, though he had been +defeated, was in a rich, glistening white silk, with natural flowers, red +and purple, on its body, and the same in her hair. Her sweet face was +sunny again, her eyes were sparkling: a word dropped by Dr. Ashton had +given her a hope that, perhaps, Percival Elster might be forgiven +sometime.</p> + +<p>He was the first of the culprits to make his appearance. The dowager +attacked him of course. What did he mean by keeping dinner waiting?</p> + +<p>Val replied that he was late in coming home; he had been out. As to +keeping dinner waiting, it seemed that Lord Hartledon was doing that: +he didn't suppose they'd have waited for him.</p> + +<p>He spoke tartly, as if not on good terms with himself or the world. Anne +Ashton, near to whom he had drawn, looked up at him with a charming +smile.</p> + +<p>"Things may brighten, Percival," she softly breathed.</p> + +<p>"It's to be hoped they will," gloomily returned Val. "They look dark +enough just now."</p> + +<p>"What have you done to your face?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"To my face? Nothing that I know of."</p> + +<p>"The forehead is red, as if it had been bruised, or slightly grazed."</p> + +<p>Val put his hand up to his forehead. "I did feel something when I washed +just now," he remarked slowly, as though doubting whether anything was +wrong or not. "It must have been done—when I—struck against that tree," +he added, apparently taxing his recollection.</p> + +<p>"How was that?"</p> + +<p>"I was running in the dusk, and did not notice the branch of a tree in my +way. It's nothing, Anne, and will soon go off."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret came in, looking just as Val Elster had done—out of sorts. +Questions were showered upon him as to the fate of the race; but the +dowager's voice was heard above all.</p> + +<p>"This is a pretty time to make your appearance, sir! Where's Lord +Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"In his room, I suppose. Hartledon never came," he added in sulky tones, +as he turned from her to the rest. "I rowed on, and on, thinking how +nicely I was distancing him, and got down, the mischief knows where. +Miles, nearly, I must have gone."</p> + +<p>"But why did you pass the turning-point?" asked one.</p> + +<p>"There was no turning-point," returned Mr. Carteret; "some confounded +meddler must have unmoored the boat as soon as the first race was over, +and I, like an idiot, rowed on, looking for it. All at once it came into +my mind what a way I must have gone, and I turned and waited. And might +have waited till now," he added, "for Hart never came."</p> + +<p>"Then his arm must have failed him," exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I thought +it was all wrong."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't right, for I soon shot past him," returned young Carteret. +"But Hart knew the spot where the boat ought to have been, though I +didn't; what he did, I suppose, was to clear round it just as though it +had been there, and come in home again. It will be an awful shame if he +takes an unfair advantage of it, and claims the race."</p> + +<p>"Hartledon never took an unfair advantage in his life," spoke up Val +Elster, in clear, decisive tones. "You need not be afraid, Carteret. +I dare say his arm failed him."</p> + +<p>"Well, he might have hallooed when he found it failing, and not have +suffered me to row all that way for nothing," retorted young Carteret. +"Not a trace could I see of him as I came back; he had hastened home, +I expect, to shut himself up in his room with his damaged arm and foot."</p> + +<p>"I'll see what he's doing there," said Val.</p> + +<p>He went out; but returned immediately.</p> + +<p>"We are all under a mistake," was his greeting. "Hartledon has not +returned yet. His servant is in his room waiting for him."</p> + +<p>"Then what do you mean by telling stories?" demanded the +countess-dowager, turning sharply on Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, ma'am! you need not begin upon me!" returned young +Carteret. "I have told no stories. I said Hart let me go on, and never +came on himself; if that's a story, I'll swallow Dawkes's skiff and the +sculls too."</p> + +<p>"You said he was in his room. You know you did."</p> + +<p>"I said I supposed so. It's usual for a man to go there, I believe, to +get ready for dinner," added young Carteret, always ripe for a wordy war, +in his antipathy to the countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> said he had come in;" and the angry woman faced round on Captain +Dawkes. "You saw them going into their rooms, you said. Which was it—you +did, or you didn't?"</p> + +<p>"I did see Carteret make his appearance; and assumed that Lord Hartledon +had gone on to his room," replied the captain, suppressing a laugh. "I am +sorry to have misled your ladyship. I dare say Hart was about the house +somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Then why doesn't he appear?" stormed the dowager. "Pretty behaviour +this, to keep us all waiting dinner. I shall tell him so. Val Elster, +ring for Hedges."</p> + +<p>Val rang the bell. "Has Lord Hartledon come in?" he asked, when the +butler appeared.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"And dinner's spoiling, isn't it, Hedges?" broke in the dowager.</p> + +<p>"It won't be any the better for waiting, my lady."</p> + +<p>"No. I must exercise my privilege and order it served. At once, Hedges, +do you hear? If Hartledon grumbles, I shall tell him it serves him +right."</p> + +<p>"But where can Hartledon be?" cried Captain Dawkes.</p> + +<p>"That's what I am wondering," said Val. "He can't be on the river all +this time; Carteret would have seen him in coming home."</p> + +<p>A strangely grave shade, looking almost like a prevision of evil, arose +to Dr. Ashton's face. "I trust nothing has happened to him," he +exclaimed. "Where did you part company with him, Mr. Carteret?"</p> + +<p>"That's more than I can tell you, sir. You must have seen—at least—no, +you were not there; but those looking on must have seen me get ahead of +him within view of the starting-point; soon after that I lost sight of +him. The river winds, you know; and of course I thought he was coming on +behind me. Very daft of me, not to divine that the boat had been +removed!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think he passed the mill?"</p> + +<p>"The mill?"</p> + +<p>"That place where the river forms what might almost be called a miniature +harbour. A mill is built there which the stream serves. You could not +fail to see it."</p> + +<p>"I remember now. Yes, I saw the mill. What of it?"</p> + +<p>"Did Lord Hartledon pass it?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know!" cried the boy. "I had lost sight of him ages before +that."</p> + +<p>"The current is extremely rapid there," observed Dr. Ashton. "If he found +his arm failing, he might strike down to the mill and land there; and his +ankle may be keeping him a prisoner."</p> + +<p>"And that's what it is!" exclaimed Val.</p> + +<p>They were crossing the hall to the dining-room. Without the slightest +ceremony, the countess-dowager pushed herself foremost and advanced to +the head of the table.</p> + +<p>"I shall occupy this seat in my nephew's absence," said she. "Dr. Ashton, +will you be so good as to take the foot? There's no one else."</p> + +<p>"Nay, madam; though Lord Hartledon may not be here, Mr. Elster is."</p> + +<p>She had actually forgotten Val; and would have liked to ignore him now +that he was recalled to remembrance; but that might not be. As much +contempt as could be expressed in her face was there, as she turned her +snub nose and small round eyes defiantly upon that unoffending younger +brother.</p> + +<p>"I was going to request you to take it, sir," said Percival, in low +tones, to Dr. Ashton. "I shall go off in the pony-carriage for Edward. +He must think we are neglecting him."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I hate these rowing matches," heartily added the Rector.</p> + +<p>"What a curious old fish that parson must be!" ejaculated young Carteret +to his next neighbour. "He says he doesn't like boating."</p> + +<p>It happened to be Arthur Ashton, and the lad's brow lowered. "You are +speaking of my father," he said. "But I'll tell you why he does not like +it. He had a brother once, a good deal older than himself; they had no +father, and Arthur—that was the elder—was very fond of him: there were +only those two. He took him out in a boat one day, and there was an +accident: the eldest was drowned, the little one saved. Do you wonder +that my father has dreaded boating ever since? He seems to have the same +sort of dread of it that a child who has been frightened by its nurse has +of the dark."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! that was a go, though!" was the sympathising comment of Mr. +Carteret.</p> + +<p>The doctor said grace, and dinner proceeded. It was not half over when +Mr. Elster came in, in his light overcoat. Walking straight up to the +table, he stood by it, his face wearing a blank, perplexed look. A +momentary silence of expectation, and then many tongues spoke together.</p> + +<p>"Where's your brother? Where's Lord Hartledon? Has he not come?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know where he is," answered Val. "I was in hopes he had reached +home before me, but I find he has not. I can't make it out at all."</p> + +<p>"Did he land at the mill?" asked Dr. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he must have done so, for the skiff is moored there."</p> + +<p>"Then he's all right," cried the doctor; and there was a strangely-marked +sound of relief in his tones.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is all right," confidently asserted Percival. "The only question +is, where he can be. The miller was out this afternoon, and left his +place locked up; so that Hartledon could not get in, and had nothing for +it but to start home with his lameness, or sit down on the bank until +some one found him."</p> + +<p>"He must have set off to walk."</p> + +<p>"I should think so. But where has he walked to?" added Val. "I drove +slowly home, looking on either side of the road, but could see nothing of +him."</p> + +<p>"What should bring him on the side of the road?" demanded the dowager. +"Do you think he would turn tramp, and take his seat on a heap of stones? +Where do you get your ideas from?"</p> + +<p>"From common sense, ma'am. If he set out to walk, and his foot failed him +half-way, there'd be nothing for it but to sit down and wait. But he is +<i>not</i> on the road: that is the curious part of the business."</p> + +<p>"Would he come the other way?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly. It is so much further by the river than by the road."</p> + +<p>"You may depend upon it that is what he has done," said Dr. Ashton. "He +might think he should meet some of you that way, and get an arm to help +him."</p> + +<p>"I declare I never thought of that," exclaimed Val, his face brightening. +"There he is, no doubt; perched somewhere between this and the mill, like +patience on a monument, unable to put foot to the ground."</p> + +<p>He turned away. Some of the men offered to accompany him: but he declined +their help, and begged them to go on with their dinner, saying he would +take sufficient servants with him, even though they had to carry +Hartledon.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Elster went, taking servants and lanterns; for in some parts of +this road the trees overhung, and rendered it dark. But they could not +find Lord Hartledon. They searched, and shouted, and waved their +lanterns: all in vain. Very much perplexed indeed did Val Elster look +when he got back again.</p> + +<p>"Where in the world can he have gone to?" angrily questioned the +countess-dowager; and she glared from her seat at the head of the table +on the offender Val, as she asked it. "I must say all this is most +unseemly, and Hartledon ought to be brought to his senses for causing it. +I suppose he has taken himself off to a surgeon's."</p> + +<p>It was possible, but unlikely, as none knew better than Val Elster. To +get to the surgeon's he would have to pass his own house, and would be +more likely to go in, and send for Mr. Hillary, than walk on with a +disabled foot. Besides, if he had gone to the surgeon's, he would not +stay there all this time. "I don't know what to do," said Percival +Elster; and there was the same blank, perplexed look on his face that was +observed the first time he came in. "I don't much like the appearance of +things."</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't think anything's wrong with him!" exclaimed young +Carteret, starting-up with an alarmed face. "He's safe to turn up, isn't +he?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he will turn up," answered Val, in a dreamy tone. "Only this +uncertainty, as to where to look for him, is not pleasant."</p> + +<p>Dr. Ashton motioned Val to his side. "Are you fearing an accident?" he +asked in low tones.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am. That current by the mill is so fearfully strong; and if your +brother had not the use of his one arm—and the boat was drawn onwards, +beyond his control—and upset—"</p> + +<p>Dr. Ashton paused. Val Elster looked rather surprised.</p> + +<p>"How could it upset, sir? The skiffs are as safe as this floor. I don't +fear that in the least: what I do fear is that Edward may be in some +out-of-the-way nook, insensible from pain, and won't be found until +daylight. Fancy, a whole night out of doors, in that state! He might be +half-dead with cold by the morning."</p> + +<p>Dr. Ashton shook his head in dissent. His dislike of boating seemed just +now to be rising into horror.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do now, Elster?" inquired Captain Dawkes.</p> + +<p>"Go to the mill again, I think, and find out if any one saw Hartledon +leave the skiff, and which way he took. One of the servants can run down +to Hillary's the while."</p> + +<p>Dr. Ashton rose, bowing for permission to Lady Kirton; and the gentlemen +with one accord rose with him, the same purpose in the mind of all—that +of more effectually scouring the ground between the mill and Hartledon. +The countess-dowager felt that she should like to box the ears of every +one of them. The idea of danger in connection with Lord Hartledon had +not yet penetrated to her brain.</p> + +<p>At this moment, before they had left the room, there arose a strange wild +sound from without—almost an unearthly sound—that seemed to come from +several voices, and to be bearing round the house from the river-path. +Mrs. O'Moore put down her knife and fork, and rose up with a startled +cry.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be alarmed at," said the dowager. "It is those Irish +harvesters. I know their horrid voices, and dare say they are riotously +drunk. Hartledon ought to put them in prison for it."</p> + +<p>The sounds died away into silence. Mrs. O'Moore took her hands from her +eyes, where they had been pressed. "Don't you know what it is, Lady +Kirton? It is the Irish death-wail!"</p> + +<p>It rose again, louder than before, for those from whom it came were +nearing the house—a horribly wailing sound, ringing out in the silence +of the night. Mrs. O'Moore crouched into her chair again, and hid her +terrified face. She was not Irish, and had never heard that sound but +once, and that was when her child died.</p> + +<p>"She is right," cried her husband, the O'Moore; "that is the death-wail. +Hark! it is for a chieftain; they mourn the loss of one high in the land. +And—they are coming here! Oh, Elster! can DEATH have overtaken your +brother?"</p> + +<p>The gentlemen had stood spell-bound, listening to the sound, their faces +a mixture of surprise and credulity. At the words they rushed out with +one accord, and the women stole after them with trembling steps and +blanched lips.</p> + +<p>"If ever I saw such behaviour in all my existence!" irascibly spoke the +countess-dowager, who was left alone in her glory. "The death-wail, +indeed! The woman's a fool. I'll get those Irishmen transported, if +I can."</p> + +<p>In the hall the servants were gathered, cowering almost as the ladies +did. Their master had flown down the hall-steps, and the labourers were +coming steadily up to it, bearing something in procession. Dr. Ashton +came back as quickly as he had gone out, extending his arms before him.</p> + +<p>"Ladies, I pray you go in," he urged, in strange agitation. "You must not +meet these—these Irishmen. Go back to the dining-room, I entreat you, +and remain in it."</p> + +<p>But the curiosity of women—who can suppress it? They were as though they +heard not, and were pressing on to the door, when Val Elster dashed in +with a white face.</p> + +<p>"Back, all of you! You must not stay here. This is no place or sight for +you. Anne," he added, seizing Miss Ashton's hand in peremptory entreaty, +"you at least know how to be calm. Get them away, and keep them out of +the hall."</p> + +<p>"Tell me the worst," she implored. "I will indeed try to be calm. Who is +it those men are bringing here?"</p> + +<p>"My dear brother—my dead brother. Madam," he continued to the +countess-dowager, who had now come out, dinner-napkin in hand, her curls +all awry, "you must not come here. Go back to the dining-room, all of +you."</p> + +<p>"Not come here! Go back to the dining-room!" echoed the outraged dowager. +"Don't take quite so much upon yourself, Val Elster. The house is Lord +Hartledon's, and I am a free agent in it."</p> + +<p>A shriek—an agonized shriek—broke from Lady Maude. In her suspense she +had stolen out unperceived, and lifted the covering of the rude bier, now +resting on the steps. The rays of the hall-lamp fell on the face, and +Maude, in her anguish, with a succession of hysterical sobs, came +shivering back to sink down at her mother's feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my love—my love! Dead! dead!"</p> + +<p>The only one who heard the words was Anne Ashton. The countess-dowager +caught the last.</p> + +<p>"Who is dead? What is this mystery?" she asked, unceremoniously lifting +her satin dress, with the intention of going out to see, and her head +began to nod—perhaps with apprehension—as if she had the palsy. "You +want to force us away. No, thank you; not until I've come to the bottom +of this."</p> + +<p>"Let us tell them," cried young Carteret, in his boyish impulse, "and +then perhaps they will go. An accident has happened to Lord Hartledon, +ma'am, and these men have brought him home."</p> + +<p>"He—<i>he's</i> not dead?" asked the old woman, in changed tones.</p> + +<p>Alas! poor Lord Hartledon was indeed dead. The Irish labourers, in +passing near the mill, had detected the body in the water; rescued it, +and brought it home.</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager's grief commenced rather turbulently. She talked and +shrieked, and danced round, exactly as if she had been a wild Indian. It +was so intensely ludicrous, that the occupants of the hall gazed in +silence.</p> + +<p>"Here to-day, and gone to-morrow!" she sobbed. "Oh—o—o—o—o—o—oh!"</p> + +<p>"Nay," cried young Carteret, "here to-day, and gone <i>now</i>. Poor fellow! +it is awful."</p> + +<p>"And you have done it!" she cried, turning her grief upon the astonished +boy. "You! What business had you to allure him off again in that +miserable boat, once he had got home?"</p> + +<p>"Don't trample me down, please," he indignantly returned; "I am as cut up +as you can be. Hedges, hadn't you better get Lady Kirton's maid here? I +think she is going mad."</p> + +<p>"And now the house is without a master," she bemoaned, returning to her +own griefs and troubles, "and I have all the arrangements thrown upon +myself."</p> + +<p>"The house is not without a master," said young Carteret, who seemed +inclined to have the last word. "If one master has gone from it, poor +fellow! there's another to replace him; and he is at your elbow now."</p> + +<p>He at her elbow was Val Elster. Lady Kirton gathered in the sense of the +words, and gave a cry; a prolonged cry of absolute dismay.</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> can't be its master."</p> + +<p>"I should say he <i>is</i>, ma'am. At any rate he is now Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>She looked from one to the other in helpless doubt. It was a contingency +that had never so much as occurred to her. Had she wanted confirmation, +the next moment brought it to her from the lips of the butler.</p> + +<p>"Hedges," called out Percival sternly, in his embarrassment and grief, +"open the dining-room door. We <i>must</i> get the hall cleared."</p> + +<p>"The door is open, my lord."</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> Lord Hartledon!" shrieked the countess-dowager, "why, I was going +to recommend his brother to ship him off to Canada for life."</p> + +<p>It was altogether an unseemly scene at such a time. But almost everything +the Countess-Dowager of Kirton did was unseemly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>MR. PIKE'S VISIT.</h3> + + +<p>Percival Elster was in truth Earl of Hartledon. By one of those +unexpected calamities, which are often inexplicable—and which most +certainly was so as yet in the present instance—a promising young life +had been snapped asunder, and another reigned in his place. In one short +hour Val Elster, who had scarcely cross or coin to call his own, had been +going in danger of arrest from one moment to another, had become a peer +of the realm and a man of wealth.</p> + +<p>As they laid the body down in a small room opening from the hall, and his +late companions and guests crowded around in awe-struck silence, there +was one amidst them who could not control his grief and emotion. It was +poor Val. Pushing aside the others, never heeding them in his bitter +sorrow, he burst into passionate sobs as he leaned over the corpse. And +none of them thought the worse of Val for it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival! how did it happen?"</p> + +<p>The speaker was Dr. Ashton. Little less affected himself, he clasped the +young man's hand in token of heartfelt sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I cannot think <i>how</i> it could have happened," replied Percival, when +able to control his feelings sufficiently to speak. "It seems awfully +strange to me—mysteriously so."</p> + +<p>"If he found himself going wrong, why didn't he shout out?" asked young +Carteret, with a rueful face. "I couldn't have helped hearing him."</p> + +<p>It was a question that was passing through the minds of all; was being +whispered about. How could it have happened? The body presented the usual +appearance of death from drowning; but close to the left temple was a +wound, and the face was otherwise disfigured. It must have been done, +they thought, by coming into contact with something or other in the +water; perhaps the skiff itself. Arm and ankle were both much swollen.</p> + +<p>Nothing was certainly known as yet of Lord Hartledon from the time Mr. +Carteret parted company with him, to the time when the body was found. It +appeared that these Irish labourers were going home from their work, +singing as they went, their road lying past the mill, when they were +spoken to by the miller's boy. He stood on the species of estrade which +the miller had placed there for his own convenience, bending down as far +as his young head and shoulders could reach, and peering into the water +attentively. "I think I see some'at in the stream," quoth he, and the men +stopped; and after a short time, proceeded to search. It proved to be the +dead body of Lord Hartledon, caught amongst the reeds.</p> + +<p>It was rather a curious coincidence that Percival Elster and his servants +in the last search should have heard the voices of the labourers singing +in the distance. But they were too far off on their return to Hartledon +to be within hearing when the men found the body.</p> + +<p>The news spread; people came up from far and near, and Hartledon was +besieged. Mr. Hillary, the surgeon, gave it as his opinion that the wound +on the temple, no doubt caused before death, had rendered Lord Hartledon +insensible, and unable to extricate himself from the water. The mill and +cottage were built on what might be called an arm of the river. Lord +Hartledon had no business there at all; but the current was very strong; +and if, as was too probable, he had become almost disabled, he might have +drifted to it without being able to help himself; or he might have been +making for it, intending to land and rest in the cottage until help could +be summoned to convey him home. How he got into the water was not known. +Once in the water, the blow was easy enough to receive; he might have +struck against the estrade.</p> + +<p>There is almost sure to be some miserable coincidence in these cases to +render them doubly unfortunate. For three weeks past, as the miller +testified—a respectable man named Floyd—his mill had not been deserted; +some one, man, boy, or woman, had always been there. On this afternoon it +was closed, mill and cottage too, and all were away. What might have been +simply a slight accident, had help been at hand, had terminated in an +awful death for the want of it.</p> + +<p>It was eleven o'clock before anything like order was restored at +Hartledon, and the house left in quiet. The last person to quit it was +Dr. Ashton. Hedges, the butler, had been showing him out, and was +standing for a minute on the steps looking after him, and perhaps to +cool, with a little fresh air, his perplexed brow—for the man was a +faithful retainer, and the affair had shocked him in no common +degree—when he was accosted by Pike, who emerged stealthily from behind +one of the outer pillars, where he seemed to have been sheltering.</p> + +<p>"Why, what have you been doing there?" exclaimed the butler.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hedges, I've been waiting here—hiding, if you like to call it so," +was the answer; and it should be observed that the man's manner, quite +unlike his usual rough, devil-may-care tone, was characterized by +singular respect and earnestness. To hear him, and not see him, you might +think you were listening to some staid and respectable friend of the +family. "I have been standing there this hour past, keeping behind the +pillar while other folk went in and out, and waiting my time to speak to +you."</p> + +<p>"To me?" repeated Hedges.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I want you to grant me a favour; and I hope you'll pardon my +boldness in asking it."</p> + +<p>Hedges did not know what to make of this. It was the first time he +had enjoyed the honour of a personal interview with Mr. Pike; and the +contrast between that gentleman's popular reputation and his present tone +and manner struck the butler as exceedingly singular. But that the butler +was in a very softened mood, feeling full of subdued charity towards all +the world, he might not have condescended to parley with the man.</p> + +<p>"What is the favour?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"I want you to let me in to see the poor young earl—what's left of him."</p> + +<p>"Let you in to see the earl!" echoed Hedges in surprise. "I never heard +such a bold request."</p> + +<p>"It is bold. I've already said so, and asked you to pardon it."</p> + +<p>"What can you want that for? It can't be for nothing but curiosity; +and—"</p> + +<p>"It's not curiosity," interrupted Pike, with an emphasis that told upon +his hearer. "I have a different motive, sir; and a good motive. If I were +at liberty to tell it—which I'm not—you'd let me in without another +word. Lots of people have been seeing him, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Indeed they have not. Why should they? It is a bold thing for <i>you</i> to +come and ask it."</p> + +<p>"Did he come by his death fairly?" whispered the man.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" exclaimed the butler, stepping back aghast. "I don't +think you know what you are talking about. Who would harm Lord +Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Let me see him," implored the man. "It can't hurt him or anybody else. +Only just for a minute, sir, in your presence. And if it's ever in my +power to do you a good turn, Mr. Hedges, I'll do it. It doesn't seem +likely now; but the mouse gnawed the lion's net, you know, and set him +free."</p> + +<p>Whether it was the strange impressiveness with which the request was +proffered, or that the softened mood of Hedges rendered him incapable of +contention, certain it was that he granted it; and most likely would +wonder at himself for it all his after-life. Crossing the hall with +silent tread, and taking up a candle as he went, he led the way to the +room; Mr. Pike stepping after him with a tread equally silent.</p> + +<p>"Take your hat off," peremptorily whispered the butler; for that worthy +had entered the room with it on. "Is that the way to—"</p> + +<p>"Hedges!"</p> + +<p>Hedges was struck with consternation at the call, for it was that of his +new master. He had not bargained for this; supposing that he had gone to +his room for the night. However he might have been foolishly won over to +accede to the man's strange request, it was not to be supposed it would +be approved of by Lord Hartledon. The butler hesitated. He did not care +to betray Pike, neither did he care to leave Pike alone.</p> + +<p>"Hedges!" came the call again, louder and quicker.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—my lord?" and Hedges squeezed out at the door without opening +it much—which was rather a difficulty, for he was a portly man, with a +red, honest sort of face—leaving Pike and the light inside. Lord +Hartledon—as we must unfortunately call him now—was standing in the +hall.</p> + +<p>"Has Dr. Ashton gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Did he leave that address?"</p> + +<p>Hedges knew to what his master alluded: an address that was wanted in +connection with certain official proceedings that must now take place. +Hedges replied that Dr. Ashton had not left it with him.</p> + +<p>"Then he must have forgotten it. He said he would write it down in +pencil. Send over to the Rectory the first thing in the morning. And, +Hedges—"</p> + +<p>At this moment a slight noise was heard within the room like the sound of +an extinguisher falling; as, in fact, it was. Lord Hartledon turned +towards it.</p> + +<p>"Who is there, Hedges?"</p> + +<p>"I—it's no one in particular, sir—my lord."</p> + +<p>What with the butler's bewilderment on the sudden change of masters, and +what with his consciousness of the presence of his visitor, he was +unusually confused. Lord Hartledon noticed it. It instantly occurred to +him that one of the ladies, or perhaps one of the women-servants, had +been admitted to the room; and he did not consider it a proper sight for +any of them.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" he demanded, somewhat peremptorily.</p> + +<p>So Hedges had to confess what had taken place, and that he had allowed +the man to enter.</p> + +<p>"Pike! Why, what can he want?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon in surprise. And +he turned to the room.</p> + +<p>The moment the butler left him alone Mr. Pike's first proceeding had been +to cover his head again with his wide-awake, which he had evidently +removed with reluctance, and might have refused to remove at all had it +been consistent with policy; his second was to snatch up the candle, bend +over the dead face, and examine it minutely both with eye and hand.</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> a wound, then, and it's true what they are saying. I thought +it might have been gossip," he muttered, as he pushed the soft dark hair +from the temple. "Any more suspicious marks?" he resumed, taking a rapid +view of the hands and head. "No; nothing but what he'd be likely to get +in the water: but—I'll swear <i>that</i> might have been the blow of a human +hand. 'Twould stun, if it wouldn't kill; and then, held under the +water—"</p> + +<p>At this moment Mr. Pike and his comments were interrupted, and he drew +back from the table on which the body was lying; but not before Lord +Hartledon had seen him touching the face of the dead.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" came the stern demand.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't harming him," was the answer; and Mr. Pike seemed to have +suddenly returned to his roughness. "It's a nasty accident to have +happened; and I don't like <i>this</i>."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the temple as he spoke. Lord Hartledon's usually +good-natured brow—at present a brow of deep sorrow—contracted +with displeasure.</p> + +<p>"It is an awful accident," he replied. "But I asked what you were doing +here?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd like to look upon him, sir; and the butler let me in. I +wish I'd been a bit nearer the place at the time: I'd have saved him, or +got drowned myself. Not much fear of that, though. I'm a rat for the +water. Was that done fairly?" pointing again to the temple.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" exclaimed Val.</p> + +<p>"Well—it might be, or it might not. One who has led the roving life I +have, and been in all sorts of scenes, bred in the slums of London too, +looks on the suspicious side of these things. And there mostly is one in +all of 'em."</p> + +<p>Val was moved to anger. "How dare you hint at so infamous a suspicion, +Pike? If—"</p> + +<p>"No offence, my lord," interrupted Pike—"and it's my lord that you are +now. Thoughts may be free in this room; but I am not going to spread +suspicion outside. I say, though that <i>might</i> have been an accident, it +might have been done by an enemy."</p> + +<p>"Did you do it?" retorted Lord Hartledon in his displeasure.</p> + +<p>Pike gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"I did not. I had no cause to harm him. What I'm thinking was, whether +anybody else had. He was mistaken for another yesterday," continued Pike, +dropping his voice. "Some men in his lordship's place might have showed +fight then: even blows."</p> + +<p>Percival made no immediate rejoinder. He was gazing at Pike just as +fixedly as the latter gazed at him. Did the man wish to insinuate that +the unwelcome visitor had again mistaken the one brother for the other, +and the result had been a struggle between them, ending in this? The idea +rushed into his mind, and a dark flush overspread his face.</p> + +<p>"You have no grounds for thinking that man—you know who I mean—attacked +my brother a second time?"</p> + +<p>"No, I have no grounds for it," shortly answered Pike.</p> + +<p>"He was near to the spot at the time; I saw him there," continued Lord +Hartledon, speaking apparently to himself; whilst the flush, painfully +red and dark, was increasing rather than diminishing.</p> + +<p>"I know you did," returned Pike.</p> + +<p>The tone grated on Lord Hartledon's ear. It implied that the man might +become familiar, if not checked; and, with all his good-natured +affability, he was not one to permit it; besides, his position was +changed, and he could not help feeling that it was. "Necessity makes us +acquainted with strange bedfellows," says the very true proverb; and what +might have been borne yesterday would not be borne to-day.</p> + +<p>"Let me understand you," he said, and there was a stern decision in his +tone and manner that surprised Pike. "Have you any reason whatever to +suspect that man of having injured, or attempted to injure my brother?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i>'ve not," answered Pike. "I never saw him nearer to the mill +yesterday than he was when he looked at us. I don't think he went nearer. +My lord, if I knew anything against the man, I'd tell it out, and be +glad. I hate the whole tribe. <i>He</i> wouldn't make the mistake again," +added Pike, half-contemptuously. "He knew which was his lordship fast +enough to-day, and which wasn't."</p> + +<p>"Then what did you mean by insinuating that the blow on the temple was +the result of violence?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say it was: I said it might have been. I don't know a thing, as +connected with this business, against a mortal soul. It's true, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, then, you will leave this room," said Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I'm going. And many thanks to your lordship for not having turned me +from it before, and for letting me have my say. Thanks to <i>you</i>, sir," he +added, as he went out of the room and passed Hedges, who was waiting in +the hall.</p> + +<p>Hedges closed the door after him, and turned to receive a reprimand from +his new master.</p> + +<p>"Before you admit such men as that into the most sacred chamber the house +at present contains, you will ask my permission, Hedges."</p> + +<p>Hedges attempted to excuse himself. "He was so very earnest, my lord; he +declared to me he had a good motive in wanting to come in. At these +times, when one's heart is almost broken with a sudden blow, one is apt +to be soft and yielding. What with that feeling upon me, and what with +the fright he gave me—"</p> + +<p>"What fright did he give you?" interrupted Val.</p> + +<p>"Well, my lord, he—he asked me whether his lordship had come fairly by +his death."</p> + +<p>"How dare you repeat the insinuation?" broke forth Lord Hartledon, with +more temper than Hedges had ever seen him display. "The very idea is +absurd; it is wicked; it is unpardonable. My brother had not an enemy in +the world. Take care not to repeat it again. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>He turned away from the astonished man, went into the room he had called +sacred, and closed the door. Hedges wondered whether the hitherto +sweet-tempered, easy-mannered younger brother had changed his nature +with his inheritance.</p> + +<p>As the days went on, few, if any, further particulars were elicited as to +the cause of accident. That the unfortunate Lord Hartledon had become +partly, if not wholly, disabled, so as to be incapable of managing even +the little skiff, had been drifted by the current towards the mills, and +there upset, was assumed by all to have been the true history of the +case. There appeared no reason to doubt that it was so. The inquest was +held on the Thursday.</p> + +<p>And on that same morning the new Lord Hartledon received a proof of the +kindness of his brother. A letter arrived from Messrs. Kedge and Reck, +addressed to Edward Earl of Hartledon. By it Percival found—there was no +one else to open it now—that his brother had written to them early on +the Tuesday morning, taking the debt upon himself; and they now wrote to +say they accepted his responsibility, and had withdrawn the officer from +Calne. Alas! Val Elster could have dismissed him himself now.</p> + +<p>He sat with bent head and drooping eyelids. None, save himself, knew how +bitter were the feelings within him, or the remorse that was his portion +for having behaved unkindly to his brother within the last few hours of +life. He had rebelled at his state of debt becoming known to Dr. Ashton; +he had feared to lose Anne: it seemed to him now, that he would live +under the doctor's displeasure for ever, would never see Anne again, +could he recall his brother. Oh, these unavailing regrets! Will they rise +up to face us at the Last Day?</p> + +<p>With a suppressed ejaculation that was like a cry of pain, as if he would +throw from him these reflections and could not, Lord Hartledon drew a +sheet of paper before him and wrote a note to the lawyers. He briefly +stated what had taken place; that his brother was dead from an accident, +and he had inherited, and should take speedy measures for the discharge +of any liabilities there might be against him: and he requested, as a +favour, that the letter written to them by his brother might be preserved +and returned to him: he should wish to keep it as the last lines his hand +had traced.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE INQUEST.</h3> + + +<p>On this day, Thursday, the inquest was held. Most of the gay crowd +staying at Hartledon had taken flight; Mr. Carteret, and one or two more, +whose testimony might be wished for, remaining. The coroner and jury +assembled in the afternoon, in a large boarded apartment called the +steward's room. Lord Hartledon was present with Dr. Ashton and other +friends: they were naturally anxious to hear the evidence that could be +collected, and gather any light that might be thrown upon the accident. +The doors were not closed to the public, and a crowd, gentle and simple, +pressed in.</p> + +<p>The surgeon spoke to the supposed cause of death—drowning: the miller +spoke to his house and mill having been that afternoon shut up. He and +his wife went over in their spring-cart to Garchester, and left the place +locked up, he said. The coroner asked whether it was his custom to lock +up his place when he went out; he replied that it was, when they went out +together; but that event rarely happened. Upon his return at dusk, he +found the little skiff loose in the stream, and secured it. It was his +servant-boy, David Ripper, who called his attention to it first of all. +He saw nothing of Lord Hartledon, and had not very long secured the skiff +when Mr. Percival Elster came up in the pony-carriage, asking if his +brother was there. He looked at the skiff, and said it was the one his +lordship had been in. Mr. Elster said he supposed his brother was walking +home, and he should drive slowly back and look out for him. Later Mr. +Elster returned: he had several servants with him then and lanterns; they +had come out to look for Lord Hartledon, but could not find him. It was +only just after they had gone away again that the Irish harvest-men came +up and found the body.</p> + +<p>This was the substance of the miller's evidence; it was all he knew: +and the next witness called was the boy David Ripper, popularly styled +in the neighbourhood young Rip, in contradistinction to his father, a +day-labourer. He was an urchin of ten or twelve, with a red, round face; +quite ludicrous from its present expression of terrified consternation. +The coroner sharply inquired what he was frightened at; and the boy burst +into a roar by way of answer. He didn't know nothing, and hadn't seen +nothing, and it wasn't him that drowned his lordship; and he couldn't +tell more if they hanged him for it.</p> + +<p>The miller interposed. The boy was one of the idlest young vagabonds he +had ever had the luck to be troubled with; and he thought it exceedingly +likely he had been off that afternoon and not near the mill at all. He +had ordered him to take two sacks into Calne; but when he reached home he +found the sacks untouched, lying where he had placed them outside. Mr. +Ripper had no doubt been playing truant on his own account.</p> + +<p>"Where did you pass Tuesday afternoon during your master's absence?" +sternly demanded the coroner. "Take your hands from your face and answer +me, boy."</p> + +<p>David Ripper obeyed in the best manner he was capable of, considering his +agitation. "I dun know now where I was," he said. "I was about."</p> + +<p>"About where?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Ripper apparently could not say where. He thought he was "setting his +bird-trap" in the stubble-field; and he see a partridge, and watched +where it scudded to; but he wasn't nigh the mill the whole time.</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything of Lord Hartledon when he was in the skiff?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw him," he sobbed. "I wasn't nigh the mill at all, and never +saw him nor the skiff."</p> + +<p>"What time did you get back to the mill?" asked the coroner.</p> + +<p>He didn't know what time it was; his master and missis had come home.</p> + +<p>This was true, Mr. Floyd said. They had been back some little time before +Ripper showed himself. The first intimation he received of that truant's +presence was when he drew his attention to the loose skiff.</p> + +<p>"How came you to see the skiff?" sharply asked the coroner.</p> + +<p>Ripper spoke up with trembling lips. He was waiting outside after he came +up, and afraid to go in lest his master should beat him for not taking +the sacks, which went clean out of his mind, they did, and then he saw +the little boat; upon which he called out and told his master.</p> + +<p>"And it was also you who first saw the body in the water," observed the +coroner, regarding the reluctant witness curiously. "How came you to see +that? Were you looking for something of the sort?"</p> + +<p>The witness shivered. He didn't know how he come to see it. He was on the +strade, not looking for nothing, when he saw some'at dark among the +reeds, and told the harvesters when they come by. They said it was a man, +got him out, and then found it was his lordship.</p> + +<p>There was only one peculiarity about the boy's evidence—his manner. +All he said was feasible enough; indeed, what would be most likely to +happen under the circumstances. But whence arose his terror? Had he been +of a timid temperament, it might have been natural; but the miller had +spoken the truth—he was audacious and hardy. Only upon one or two, +however, did the manner leave any impression. Pike, who made one of the +crowd in the inquest-room, was one of these. His experience of human +nature was tolerably keen, and he felt sure the boy was keeping something +behind that he did not dare to tell. The coroner and jury were not so +clear-sighted, and dismissed him with the remark that he was a "little +fool."</p> + +<p>"Call George Gorton," said the coroner, looking at his notes.</p> + +<p>Very much to Lord Hartledon's surprise—perhaps somewhat to his +annoyance—the man answering to this name was the one who had originally +come to Calne on a special mission to himself. Some feeling caused him to +turn from the man whilst he gave his evidence, a thing easily done in the +crowded room.</p> + +<p>It appeared that amidst the stirring excitement in the neighbourhood on +the Tuesday night when the death became known, this stranger happened to +avow in the public-house which he made his quarters that he had seen Lord +Hartledon in his skiff just before the event must have happened. The +information was reported, and the man received a summons to appear before +the coroner.</p> + +<p>And it may be as well to remark now, that his second appearance was owing +to a little cowardice on his own part. He had felt perfectly satisfied at +the time with the promise given him by Lord Hartledon to see the debt +paid—given also in the presence of the Rector—and took his departure in +the train, just as Pike had subsequently told Mr. Elster. But ere he had +gone two stages on his journey, he began to think he might have been too +precipitate, and to ask himself whether his employers would not tell him +so when he appeared before them, unbacked by any guarantee from Lord +Hartledon; for this, by a strange oversight, he had omitted to ask for. +He halted at once, and went back by the next return train. The following +day, Tuesday, he spent looking after Lord Hartledon, but, as it happened, +did not meet him.</p> + +<p>The man—a dissipated young man, now that his hat was off—came forward +in his long coat, his red hair and whiskers. But it seemed that he had +really very little information to give. He was on the banks of the river +when Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff, and noticed how strangely he was +rowing, one arm apparently lying useless. What part of the river was +this, the coroner asked; and the witness avowed that he could not +describe it. He was a stranger, never there but that once; all he knew +was, that it was higher up, beyond Hartledon House. What might he have +been doing there, demanded the coroner. Only strolling about, was the +answer. What was his business at Calne? came the next question; and as it +was put, the witness caught the eye of the new Lord Hartledon through an +opening in the crowd. His business, the witness replied to the coroner, +was his own business, and did not concern the public, and he respectfully +declined to state it. He presumed Calne was a free place like other +places, where a stranger might spend a few days without question, if he +pleased.</p> + +<p>Pike chuckled at this: incipient resistance to authority cheered that +lawless man's heart. He had stood throughout, in the shadow of the crowd, +just within the door, attentively watching the witnesses as they gave +their evidence: but he was not prepared for what was to come next.</p> + +<p>Did the witness see any other spectators on the bank? continued the +coroner. Only one, was the answer: a man called Pike, or some such name. +Pike was watching the little boat on the river when he got up to him; he +remarked to Pike that his lordship's arm seemed tired; and he and Pike +had walked back to Calne together.</p> + +<p>Pike would have got away had he been able, but the coroner whispered to +an officer. For one single moment Mr. Pike seemed inclined to show fight; +he began struggling, not gently, to reach the door; the next he gave it +up, and resigned himself to his fate. There was a little hubbub, in the +midst of which a slip of paper with a pencilled line from Lord Hartledon, +was handed to the coroner.</p> + +<p>"<i>Press this point, whether they returned to Calne at once and +together.</i>"</p> + +<p>"George Gorton," cried the coroner, as he crushed the paper in his hand, +"at what hour did you return to Calne?"</p> + +<p>"I went at once. As soon as the little boat was out of sight."</p> + +<p>"Went alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I and the man Pike walked together. I've said so already."</p> + +<p>"What made you go together?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular. We were both going back, I suppose, and strolled +along talking."</p> + +<p>It appeared to be all that the witness had to tell, and Mr. Pike came +forward perforce. As he stood there, his elegant wide-awake bent in his +hand, he looked more like the wild man of the woods he had been compared +to, than a civilized being. Rough, rude, and abrupt were his tones as he +spoke, and he bent his face and eyes downwards whilst he answered. It was +in those eyes that lay the look which had struck Mr. Elster as being +familiar to him. He persisted in giving his name as Tom, not Thomas.</p> + +<p>But if the stranger in the long coat had little evidence to give, Pike +had even less. He had been in the woods that afternoon and sauntered to +the bank of the river just as Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff; but he +had taken very little notice of him. It was only when the last witness, +who came up at the moment, remarked upon the queer manner in which his +lordship held his arm, that he saw it was lying idle.</p> + +<p>Not a thing more could he or would he tell. It was all he knew, he said, +and would swear it was all. He went back to Calne with the last witness, +and never saw his lordship again alive.</p> + +<p>It did appear to be all, just as it did in the matter of the other man. +The coroner inquired whether he had seen any one else on the banks or +near them, and Pike replied that he had not set eyes on another soul, +which Percival knew to be false, for he had seen <i>him</i>. He was told to +put his signature to his evidence, which the clerk had taken down, and +affixed a cross.</p> + +<p>"Can't you write?" asked the coroner.</p> + +<p>Pike shook his head negatively. "Never learnt," he curtly said. And +Percival believed that to be an untruth equally with the other. He could +not help thinking that the avowal of their immediate return might also be +false: it was just as possible that one or other, or both, had followed +the course of the boat.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret was examined. He could tell no more than he had already +told. They started together, but he had soon got beyond his lordship, +and had never seen him again alive. There was nothing more to be gleaned +or gathered. Not the smallest suspicion of foul play, or of its being +anything but a most unfortunate accident, was entertained for a moment by +any one who heard the evidence, and the verdict of the jury was to that +effect: Accidental Death.</p> + +<p>As the crowd pressed out of the inquest-room, jostling one another in the +gloom of the evening, and went their several ways, Lord Hartledon found +himself close to Gorton, his coat flapping as he walked. The man was +looking round for Pike: but Mr. Pike, the instant his forced evidence was +given, had slunk away from the gaze of his fellow-men to ensconce himself +in his solitary shed. To all appearance Lord Hartledon had overtaken +Gorton by accident: the man turned aside in obedience to a signal, and +halted. They could not see much of each other's faces in the twilight.</p> + +<p>"I wish to ask you a question," said Percival in low, impressive, and not +unkindly tones. "Did you speak with my brother, Lord Hartledon, at all on +Tuesday?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord, I did not," was the ready answer. "I was trying to get to +see his lordship, but did not."</p> + +<p>"What did you want with him? What brought you back to Calne?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to get from him a guarantee for—for what your lordship knows +of; which he had omitted to give, and I had not thought to ask for," +civilly replied the man. "I was looking about for his lordship on the +Tuesday morning, but did not get to see him. In the afternoon, when the +boat-race was over, I made bold to call at Hartledon, but the servants +said his lordship wasn't in. As I came away, I saw him, as I thought, +pass the lodge and go up the road, and I cut after him, but couldn't +overtake him, and at last lost sight of him. I struck into a tangled sort +of pathway through the gorse, or whatever it's called down here, and it +brought me out near the river. His lordship was just sculling down, and +then I knew it was some one else had gone by the lodge, and not him. +Perhaps it was your lordship?"</p> + +<p>"You knew it was Lord Hartledon in the boat? I mean, you recognized him? +You did not mistake him for me?"</p> + +<p>"I knew him, my lord. If I'd been a bit nearer the lodge, I shouldn't +have been likely to mistake even your lordship for him."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was gazing into the man's face still; never once had his +eyes been removed from it.</p> + +<p>"You did not see Lord Hartledon later?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw him all day but that once when he passed in the skiff."</p> + +<p>"You did not follow him, then?"</p> + +<p>"Of what use?" debated the man. "I couldn't call out my business from the +banks, and didn't know his lordship was going to land lower down. I went +straight back to Calne, my lord, walking with that man Pike—who is a rum +fellow, and has a history behind him, unless I'm mistaken; but it's no +business of mine. I made my mind up to another night of it in Calne, +thinking I'd get to Hartledon early next morning before his lordship had +time to go out; and I was sitting comfortably with a pipe and a glass of +beer, when news came of the accident."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon believed the man to be telling the truth; and a +weight—the source of which he did not stay to analyse—was lifted from +his mind. But he asked another question.</p> + +<p>"Why are you still in Calne?"</p> + +<p>"I waited for orders. After his lordship died I couldn't go away without +them—carrying with me nothing but the word of a dead man. The orders +came this morning, safe enough; but I had the summons served on me then +to attend the inquest, and had to stay for it. I'm going away now, my +lord, by the first train."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was satisfied, and nodded his head. As he turned back he +met Dr. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"I was looking for you, Lord Hartledon. If you require any assistance or +information in the various arrangements that now devolve upon you, I +shall be happy to render both. There will be a good deal to do one way or +another; more, I dare say, than your inexperience has the least idea of. +You will have your solicitor at hand, of course; but if you want me, you +know where to find me."</p> + +<p>The Rector's words were courteous, but the tone was not warm, and the +title "Lord Hartledon" grated on Val's ear. In his impulse he grasped the +speaker's hand, pouring forth a heartfelt prayer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dr. Ashton, will you not forgive me? The horrible trouble I brought +upon myself is over now. I don't rejoice in it under the circumstances, +Heaven knows; I only speak of the fact. Let me come to your house again! +Forgive me for the past."</p> + +<p>"In one sense the trouble is over, because the debts that were a +formidable embarrassment to Mr. Elster are as nothing to Lord Hartledon," +was the reply. "But let me assure you of one thing: that your being Lord +Hartledon will not make the slightest difference to my decision not to +give you my daughter, unless your line of conduct shall change."</p> + +<p>"It is changed. Dr. Ashton, on my word of honour, I will never be guilty +of carelessness again. One thing will be my safeguard, though all else +should fail—the fact that I passed my word for this to my dear brother +not many hours before his death. For my sake, for Anne's sake, you will +forgive me!"</p> + +<p>Was it possible to resist the persuasive tones, the earnestness of the +honest, dark-blue eyes? If ever Percival Elster was to make an effort for +good, and succeed, it must be now. The doctor knew it; and he knew that +Anne's happiness was at stake. But he did not thaw immediately.</p> + +<p>"You know, Lord Hartledon—"</p> + +<p>"Call me Val, as you used to do," came the pleading interruption; and Dr. +Ashton smiled in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"Percival, you know it is against my nature to be harsh or unforgiving; +just as I believe it contrary to your nature to be guilty of deliberate +wrong. If you will only be true to yourself, I would rather have you for +my son-in-law than any other man in England; as I would have had when you +were Val Elster. Do you note my words? <i>true to yourself</i>."</p> + +<p>"As I will be from henceforth," whispered Val, earnest tears rising to +his eyes.</p> + +<p>And as he would have been but for his besetting sin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>LATER IN THE DAY.</h3> + + +<p>It happened that Clerk Gum had business on hand the day of the inquest, +which obliged him to go to Garchester. He reached home after dark; and +the first thing he saw was his wife, in what he was pleased to call a +state of semi-idiocy. The tea-things were laid on the table, and +substantial refreshment in the shape of cold meat, and a plate of muffins +ready for toasting, all for the clerk's regalement. But Mrs. Gum herself +sat on a low chair by the fire, her eyes swollen with crying.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter now?" was the clerk's first question.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gum, I told you you ought not to have gone off to-day. You might +have stayed for the inquest."</p> + +<p>"Much good I should do the inquest, or the inquest do me," retorted the +clerk. "Has Becky gone?"</p> + +<p>"Long ago. Gum, that dream's coming round. I said it would. I <i>told</i> you +there was ill in store for Lord Hartledon; and that Pike was mixed up in +it, and Mr. Elster also in some way. If you'd only listen to me—"</p> + +<p>The clerk, who had been brushing his hat and shaking the dust from his +outer coat—for he was a careful man with his clothes, and always +well-dressed—brought down his hand upon the table with some temper.</p> + +<p>"Just stop that. I've heard enough of that dream, and of all your dreams. +Confounded folly! Haven't I trouble and worry enough upon my mind, +without your worrying me every time I come in about your idiotic dreams?"</p> + +<p>"Well," returned Mrs. Gum, "if the dream's nothing, I'd like to ask why +they had Pike up to-day before them all?"</p> + +<p>"Who had him up?" asked the clerk, after a pause. "Had him up where?"</p> + +<p>"Before the people sitting on the body of Lord Hartledon. Lydia Jones +brought me the news just now. 'They had Pike the poacher up,' says she. +'He was up before the jury, and had to confess to it.' 'Confess to what,' +said I. 'Why, that he was about in the woods when my lord met his end,' +said she; 'and it's to know how my lord did meet it, and whether the +poacher mightn't have dealt that blow on his temple and robbed him after +it.' Gum—"</p> + +<p>"There's no suspicion of foul play, is there?" interrupted the clerk, in +strangely subdued tones.</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of, except in Lydia's temper," answered Mrs. Gum. "But +I don't like to hear he was up there at all."</p> + +<p>"Lydia Jones is a foul-tongued woman, capable of swearing away any man's +life. Is Pike in custody?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. They've let him off for the present. Oh, Gum, often and often +do I wish my days were ended!"</p> + +<p>"Often and often do I wish I'd a quiet house to come to, and not be +bothered with dreams," was the scornful retort. "Suppose you toast the +muffins."</p> + +<p>She gave a sigh or two, put her cap straight, smoothed her ragged hair, +and meekly rose to obey. The clerk was carefully folding up the outer +coat, for it was one he wore only on high-days, when he felt something in +the pocket—a small parcel.</p> + +<p>"I'd almost forgotten this," he exclaimed, taking it out. "Thanks to you, +Nance! What with your dreams and other worryings I can't think of my +proper business."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"A deed Dr. Ashton's lawyer got me to bring and save his clerk a +journey—if you must know. I'll take it over at once, while the tea's +brewing."</p> + +<p>As Jabez Gum passed through his own gate he looked towards Mr. Pike's +dwelling; it was only natural he should do so after the recent +conversation; and he saw that worthy gentleman come stealing across the +waste ground, with his usual cautious step. Although not given to +exchanging courtesies with his neighbour, the clerk walked briskly +towards him now, and waited at the hurdles which divided the waste ground +from the road.</p> + +<p>"I hear you were prowling about the mill when Lord Hartledon met with his +accident," began the clerk, in low, condemning tones.</p> + +<p>"And what if I was," asked Pike, leaning his arms on the hurdles and +facing the clerk. "Near the mill I wasn't; about the woods and river I +was; and I saw him pass down in the sculling boat with his disabled arm. +What of it, I ask?"</p> + +<p>Pike's tone, though short, was civil enough. The forced appearance before +the coroner and public had disturbed his equanimity in no slight degree, +and taken for the present all insolence out of him.</p> + +<p>"Should any doubt get afloat that his lordship's death might not have +been accidental, your presence at the spot would tell against you."</p> + +<p>"No, it wouldn't. I left the spot before the accident could have +happened; and I came back to Calne with a witness. As to the death having +been something worse than accident, not a soul in the place has dreamt of +such a thing except me."</p> + +<p>"Except you! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Pike leaned more over the hurdles, so as to bring his disreputable face +closer to Mr. Gum, who slightly recoiled as he caught the low whisper.</p> + +<p>"I don't think the death was accidental. I believe his lordship was just +put out of the way quietly."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the shocked clerk. "By whom? By you?" he +added, in his bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"No," returned the man. "If I'd done it, I shouldn't talk about it."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" cried Mr. Gum.</p> + +<p>"I mean that I have my suspicions; and good suspicions they are. Many a +man has been hung on less. I am not going to tell them; perhaps not ever. +I shall wait and keep my eyes open, and bring them, if I can, to +certainties. Time enough to talk then, or keep silent, as circumstances +may dictate."</p> + +<p>"And you tell me you were not near the place at the time of the +accident?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> wasn't," replied Mr. Pike, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Who was?"</p> + +<p>"That's my secret. And as I've a little matter of business on hand +to-night, I don't care to be further delayed, if it's all the same to +you, neighbour. And instead of your accusing me of prowling about the +mill again, perhaps you'll just give a thought occasionally to what I +have now said, keeping it to yourself. I'm not afraid of your spreading +it in Calne; for it might bring a hornets' nest about your head, and +about some other heads that you wouldn't like to injure."</p> + +<p>With the last words Mr. Pike crossed the hurdles and went off in the +direction of Hartledon. It was a light night, and the clerk stood and +stared after him. To say that Jabez Gum in his astonishment was uncertain +whether he stood on his head or his heels, would be saying little; and +how much of these assertions he might believe, and what mischief Mr. Pike +might be going after to-night, he knew not. Drawing a long sigh, which +did not sound very much like a sigh of relief, he at length turned off to +Dr. Ashton's, and the man disappeared.</p> + +<p>We must follow Pike. He went stealthily up the road past Hartledon, +keeping in the shade of the hedge, and shrinking into it when he saw any +one coming. Striking off when he neared the mill, he approached it +cautiously, and halted amidst some trees, whence he had a view of the +mill-door.</p> + +<p>He was waiting for the boy, David Ripper. Fully convinced by the lad's +manner at the inquest that he had not told all he knew, but was keeping +something back in fear, Mr. Pike, for reasons of his own, resolved to +come at it if he could. He knew that the boy would be at work later than +usual that night, having been hindered in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Imagine yourself standing with your back to the river, reader, and take a +view of the premises as they face you. The cottage is a square building, +and has four good rooms on the ground floor. The miller's thrifty wife +generally locked all these rooms up if she went out, and carried the keys +away in her pocket. The parlour window was an ordinary sash-window, with +outside shutters; the kitchen window a small casement, protected by a +fixed net-work of strong wire. No one could get in or out, even when the +casement was open, without tearing this wire away, which would not be a +difficult matter to accomplish. On the left of the cottage, but to your +right as you face it, stands the mill, to which you ascend by steps. It +communicates inside with the upper floor of the cottage, which is used +as a store-room for corn; and from this store-room a flight of stairs +descends to the kitchen below. Another flight of stairs from this +store-room communicated with the open passage leading from the back-door +to the stable. This is all that need be said: and you may think it +superfluous to have described it at all: but it is not so.</p> + +<p>The boy Ripper at length came forth. With a shuddering avoidance of the +water he came tearing along as one running from a ghost, and was darting +past the trees, when he found himself detained by an arm of great +strength. Mr. Pike clapped his other hand upon the boy's mouth, stifling +a howl of terror.</p> + +<p>"Do you see this, Rip?" cried he.</p> + +<p>Rip did see it. It was a pistol held rather inconveniently close to the +boy's breast. Rip dearly loved his life; but it nearly went out of him +then with fear.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Pike, "I've come up to know about this business of Lord +Hartledon's, and I will know it, or leave you as dead as he is. And I'll +have you took up for murder, into the bargain," he rather illogically +continued, "as an accessory to the fact."</p> + +<p>David Ripper was in a state of horror; all idea of concealment gone out +of him. "I couldn't help it," he gasped. "I couldn't get out to him; I +was locked up in the mill. Don't shoot me."</p> + +<p>"I'll spare you on one condition," decided Pike. "Disclose the whole of +this from first to last, and then we may part friends. But try to palm +off one lie upon me, and I'll riddle you through. To begin with: what +brought you locked up in the mill?"</p> + +<p>It was a wicked tale of a wicked young jail-bird, as Mr. Pike (probably +the worse jail-bird by far of the two) phrased it. Master Ripper had +purposely caused himself to be locked in the mill, his object being to +supply himself with as much corn as he could carry about him for the +benefit of his rabbits and pigeons and other live stock at home. He had +done it twice before, he avowed, in dread of the pistol, and had got away +safe through the square hole in the passage at the foot of the back +staircase, whence he had dropped to the ground. To his consternation on +this occasion, however, he had found the door at the foot of the stairs +bolted, as it never had been before, and he could not get to the passage. +So he was a prisoner all the afternoon, and had exercised his legs +between the store-room and kitchen, both of which were open to him.</p> + +<p>If ever a man showed virtuous indignation at a sinner's confession, Mr. +Pike showed it now. "That's how you were about in the stubble-field +setting your traps, you young villain! I saw the coroner look at you. And +now about Lord Hartledon. What did you see?"</p> + +<p>Master Ripper rubbed the perspiration from his face as he went on with +his tale. Pike listened with all the ears he possessed and said not a +word, beyond sundry rough exclamations, until the tale was done.</p> + +<p>"You awful young dog! You saw all that from the kitchen-window, and never +tried to get out of it!"</p> + +<p>"I <i>couldn't</i> get out of it," pleaded the boy. "It's got a wire-net +before it, and I couldn't break that."</p> + +<p>"You are strong enough to break it ten times over," retorted Pike.</p> + +<p>"But then master would ha' known I'd been in the mill!" cried the boy, a +gleam of cunning in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ugh," grunted Pike. "And you saw exactly what you've told me?"</p> + +<p>"I saw it and heard the cries."</p> + +<p>"Did he see you?"</p> + +<p>"No; I was afeard to show myself. When master come home, the first thing +he did was t' unlock that there staircase door, and I got out without his +seeing me—"</p> + +<p>"Where did you hide the grain you were loaded with?" demanded Pike.</p> + +<p>"I'd emptied it out again in the store-room," returned the boy. "I told +master there were a loose skiff out there, and he come out and secured +it. Them harvesters come up next and got him out of the water."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you could see fast enough what you were looking for! Well, young +Rip," continued Mr. Pike, consolingly, "you stand about as rich a chance +of being hanged as ever you'll stand in all your born days. If you'd +jumped through that wire you'd have saved my lord, and he'd have made it +right for you with old Floyd. I'd advise you to keep a silent tongue in +your head, if you want to save your neck."</p> + +<p>"I was keeping it, till you come and made me tell with that there +pistol," howled the boy. "You won't go and split on me?" he asked, with +trembling lips.</p> + +<p>"I won't split on you about the grain," graciously promised Pike. "It's +no business of mine. As to the other matter—well, I'll not say anything +about that; at any rate, yet awhile. You keep it a secret; so will I."</p> + +<p>Without another word, Pike extended his hand as a signal that the culprit +was at liberty to depart; and he did so as fast as his legs would carry +him. Pike then returned the pistol to his pocket and took his way back to +Calne in a thoughtful and particularly ungenial mood. There was a doubt +within him whether the boy had disclosed the truth, even to him.</p> + +<p>Perhaps on no one—with the exception of Percival—did the death of Lord +Hartledon leave its effects as it did on Lady Kirton and her daughter +Maude. To the one it brought embarrassment; to the other, what seemed +very like a broken heart. The countess-dowager's tactics must change as +by magic. She had to transfer the affection and consideration evinced for +Edward Lord Hartledon to his brother; and to do it easily and naturally. +She had to obliterate from the mind of the latter her overbearing dislike +to him, cause her insults to be remembered no more. A difficult task, +even for her, wily woman as she was.</p> + +<p>How was it to be done? For three long hours the night after Lord +Hartledon's death, she lay awake, thinking out her plans; perhaps for the +first time in her life, for obtuse natures do not lie awake. The death +had affected her only as regarded her own interests; she could feel for +none and regret none in her utter selfishness. One was fallen, but +another had risen up. "Le roi est mort: vive le roi!"</p> + +<p>On the day following the death she had sought an interview with Percival. +Never a woman evinced better tact than she. There was no violent change +in her manner, no apologies for the past, or display of sudden affection. +She spoke quietly and sensibly of passing topics: the death, and what +could have led to it; the immediate business on hand, some of the changes +it entailed in the future. "I'll stay with you still, Percival," she +said, "and look after things a bit for you, as I have been doing for your +brother. It is an awful shock, and we must all have time to get over it. +If I had only foreseen this, how I might have spared my temper and poor +Maude's feelings!"</p> + +<p>She looked out of the corner of her eye at the young man; but he betrayed +no curiosity to hear more, and she went on unasked.</p> + +<p>"You know, Val, for a portionless girl, as Maude is, it was a great blow +to me when I found her fixing her heart upon a younger son. How cross and +unjust it made me I couldn't conceal: mothers are mothers. I wanted her +to take a fancy to Hartledon, dear fellow, and I suppose she could not, +and it rendered me cross; and I know I worried her and worried my own +temper, till at times I was not conscious of what I said. Poor Maude! she +did not rebel openly, but I could see her struggles. Only a week ago, +when Hartledon was talking about his marrying sometime, and hinting that +she might care fox him if she tried, she scored her beautiful drawing all +over with ugly marks; ran the pencil through it—"</p> + +<p>"But why do you tell me this now?" asked Val.</p> + +<p>"Hartledon—dear me! I wonder how long I shall be getting accustomed to +your name?—there's only you and me and Maude left now of the family," +cried the dowager; "and if I speak of such things, it is in fulness of +heart. And now about these letters: do you care how they are worded?"</p> + +<p>"I don't seem to care about anything," listlessly answered the young man. +"As to the letters, I think I'd rather write them myself, Lady Kirton."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you shall not have any trouble of that sort to-day. <i>I'll</i> write +the letters, and you may indulge yourself in doing nothing."</p> + +<p>He yielded in his unstable nature. She spoke of business letters, and it +was better that he should write them; he wished to write them; but she +carried her point, and his will yielded to hers. Would it be a type of +the future?—would he yield to her in other things in defiance of his +better judgment? Alas! alas!</p> + +<p>She picked up her skirts and left him, and went sailing upstairs to her +daughter's room. Maude was sitting shivering in a shawl, though the day +was hot.</p> + +<p>"I've paved the way," nodded the old woman, in meaning tones. "And +there's one fortunate thing about Val: he is so truthful himself, one may +take him in with his eyes open."</p> + +<p>Maude turned <i>her</i> eyes upon her mother: very languid and unspeculative +eyes just then.</p> + +<p>"I gave him a hint, Maude, that you had been unable to bring yourself to +like Hartledon, but had fixed your mind on a younger son. Later, we'll +let him suspect who the younger son was."</p> + +<p>The words aroused Maude; she started up and stood staring at her mother, +her eyes dilating with a sort of horror; her pale cheeks slowly turning +crimson.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," she gasped; "I <i>hope</i> I don't understand. You—you +do not mean that I am to try to like Val Elster?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Maude, no heroics. I'll not see <i>you</i> make a fool of yourself as +your sisters have done. He's not Val Elster any longer; he is Lord +Hartledon: better-looking than ever his brother was, and will make a +better husband, for he'll be more easily led."</p> + +<p>"I would not marry Val for the whole world," she said, with strong +emotion. "I dislike him; I hate him; I never could be a wife to Val +Elster."</p> + +<p>"We'll see," said the dowager, pushing up her front, of which she had +just caught sight in a glass.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven, there's no fear of it!" resumed Maude, collecting her +senses, and sitting down again with a relieved sigh; "he is to marry Anne +Ashton. Thank Heaven that he loves her!"</p> + +<p>"Anne Ashton!" scornfully returned the countess-dowager. "She might have +been tolerated when he was Val Elster, not now he is Lord Hartledon. What +notions you have, Maude!"</p> + +<p>Maude burst into tears. "Mamma, I think it is fearfully indecent for you +to begin upon these things already! It only happened last night, and—and +it sounds quite horrible."</p> + +<p>"When one has to live as I do, one has to do many things decent and +indecent," retorted the countess-dowager sharply. "He has had his hint, +and you've got yours: and you are no true girl if you suffer yourself now +to be triumphed over by Anne Ashton."</p> + +<p>Maude cried on silently, thinking how cruel fate was to have taken one +brother and spared the other. Who—save Anne Ashton—would have missed +Val Elster; while Lord Hartledon—at least he had made the life of one +heart. A poor bruised heart now; never, never to be made quite whole +again.</p> + +<p>Thus the dowager, in her blindness, began her plans. In her blindness! If +we could only foresee the ending of some of the unholy schemes that many +of us are apt to weave, we might be more willing to leave them humbly in +a higher Hand than ours. Do they ever bring forth good, these plans, born +of our evil passions—hatred, malice, utter selfishness? I think not. +They may seem to succeed triumphantly, but—watch the triumph to the end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>FEVER.</h3> + + +<p>The dews of an October evening were falling upon Calne, as Lord Hartledon +walked from the railway-station. Just as unexpectedly as he had arrived +the morning you first saw him, when he was only Val Elster, had he +arrived now. By the merest accident one of the Hartledon servants +happened to be at the station when the train arrived, and took charge of +his master's luggage.</p> + +<p>"All well at home, James?"</p> + +<p>"All quite well, my lord."</p> + +<p>Several weeks had elapsed since his brother's death, and Lord Hartledon +had spent them in London. He went up on business the week after the +funeral, and did not return again. In one respect he had no inducement to +return; for the Ashtons, including Anne, were on a visit in Wales. They +were at home now, as he knew well; and perhaps that had brought him down.</p> + +<p>He went in unannounced, finding his way to the inner drawing-room. A +large fire blazed in the grate, and Lady Maude sat by it so intent in +thought as not to observe his entrance. She wore a black crêpe dress, +with a little white trimming on its low body and sleeves. The firelight +played on her beautiful features; and her eyelashes glistened as if with +tears: she was thinner and paler; he saw it at once. The countess-dowager +kept to Hartledon and showed no intention of moving from it: she and her +daughter had been there alone all these weeks.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Maude?"</p> + +<p>She looked round and started up, backing from him with a face of alarm. +Ah, was it <i>instinct</i> caused her so to receive him? What, or who, was she +thinking of; holding her hands before her with that face of horror?</p> + +<p>"Maude, have I so startled you?"</p> + +<p>"Percival! I beg your pardon. I believe I was thinking of—of your +brother, and I really did not know you in the uncertain light. We don't +have the rooms lighted early," she added, with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>He took her hands in his. Now that she knew him, and the alarm was over, +she seemed really pleased to see him: the dark eyes were raised to his +with a frank smile.</p> + +<p>"May I take a cousin's greeting, Maude?"</p> + +<p>Without waiting for yes or no, he stooped and took the kiss. Maude flung +his hands away. He should have left out the "cousin," or not have taken +the kiss.</p> + +<p>He went and stood with his elbow on the mantelpiece, soberly, as if he +had only kissed a sister. Maude sat down again.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not send us word you were coming?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"There was no necessity for it. And I only made my mind up this morning."</p> + +<p>"What a long time you have been away! I thought you went for a week."</p> + +<p>"I did not get my business over very quickly; and waited afterwards to +see Thomas Carr, who was out of town. The Ashtons were away, you know; so +I had no inducement to hurry back again."</p> + +<p>"Very complimentary to <i>her</i>. Who's Thomas Carr?" asked Maude.</p> + +<p>"A barrister; the greatest friend I possess in this world. We were at +college together, and he used to keep me straight."</p> + +<p>"Keep you straight! Val!"</p> + +<p>"It's quite true. I went to him in all my scrapes and troubles. He is the +most honourable, upright, straightforward man I know; and, as such, +possesses a talent for serving—"</p> + +<p>"Hartledon! Is it <i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>The interruption came from the dowager. She and the butler came in +together, both looking equally astonished at the appearance of Lord +Hartledon. The former said dinner was served.</p> + +<p>"Will you let me sit down in this coat?" asked Val.</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager would willingly have allowed him to sit down without +any. Her welcome was demonstrative; her display of affection quite warm, +and she called him "Val," tenderly. He escaped for a minute to his room, +washed his hands, brushed his hair, and was down again, and taking the +head of his own table.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to have him there—a welcome change from Hartledon's +recent monotony; and even Maude, with her boasted dislike, felt prejudice +melting away. Boasted dislike, not real, it had been. None could dislike +Percival. He was not Edward, and it was him Maude had loved. Percival she +never would love, but she might learn to like him. As he sat near her, in +his plain black morning attire, courteous, genuinely sweet-tempered, his +good looks conspicuous, a smile on his delicate, refined, but vacillating +lips, and his honest dark-blue eyes bent upon her in kindness, Maude for +the first time admitted a vision of the possible future, together with a +dim consciousness that it might not be intolerable. Half the world, of +her age and sex, would have deemed it indeed a triumph to be made the +wife of that attractive man.</p> + +<p>He had cautiously stood aside for Lady Kirton to take the head of the +table; but the dowager had positively refused, and subsided into the +chair at the foot. She did not fill it in dear Edward's time, she said; +neither should she in dear Val's; he had come home to occupy his own +place. And oh, thank goodness he was come! She and Maude had been so +lonely and miserable, growing thinner daily from sheer <i>ennui</i>. So she +faced Lord Hartledon at the end of the table, her flaxen curls surmounted +by an array of black plumes, and looking very like a substantial female +mute.</p> + +<p>"What an awful thing that is about the Rectory!" exclaimed she, when they +were more than half through dinner.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked up quietly. "What is the matter at the Rectory?"</p> + +<p>"Fever has broken out."</p> + +<p>"Is that all!" he exclaimed, some amusement on his face. "I thought it +must have taken fire."</p> + +<p>"A fever's worse than a fire."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Think so!</i>" echoed the dowager. "You can run away from a fire; but a +fever may take you before you are aware of it. Every soul in the Rectory +may die; it may spread to the parish; it may spread here. I have kept tar +burning outside the house the last two days."</p> + +<p>"You are not serious, Lady Kirton!"</p> + +<p>"I am serious. I wouldn't catch a fever for the whole world. I should die +of fright before it had time to kill me. Besides—I have Maude to guard. +You were forgetting her."</p> + +<p>"There's no danger at all. One of the servants became ill after they +returned home, and it proved to be fever. I don't suppose it will +spread."</p> + +<p>"How did <i>you</i> hear about it?"</p> + +<p>"From Miss Ashton. She mentioned it in her last letter to me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you corresponded with her," cried the dowager, her tones +rather shrill.</p> + +<p>"Not correspond with Miss Ashton!" he repeated. "Of course I do."</p> + +<p>The old dowager had a fit of choking: something had gone the wrong way, +she said. Lord Hartledon resumed.</p> + +<p>"It is an awful shame of those seaside lodging-house people! Did you hear +the particulars, Maude? After the Ashtons concluded their visit in Wales, +they went for a fortnight to the seaside, on their way home, taking +lodgings. Some days after they had been settled in the rooms they +discovered that some fever was in the house; a family who occupied +another set of apartments being ill with it, and had been ill before the +Ashtons went in. Dr. Ashton told the landlady what he thought of her +conduct, and then they left the house for home. But Mrs. Ashton's maid, +Matilda, had already taken it."</p> + +<p>"Did Miss Ashton give you these particulars?" asked Maude, toying with a +late rose that lay beside her plate.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I should feel inclined to prosecute the woman, were I Dr. Ashton, +for having been so wickedly inconsiderate. But I hope Matilda is better, +and that the alarm will end with her. It is four days since I had Anne's +letter."</p> + +<p>"Then, Lord Hartledon, I can tell you the alarm's worse, and another has +taken it, and the parish is up in arms," said the countess-dowager, +tartly. "It has proved to be fever of a most malignant type, and not a +soul but Hillary the surgeon goes near the Rectory, You must not venture +within half-a-mile of it. Dr. Ashton was so careless as to occupy his +pulpit on Sunday; but, thank goodness, I did not venture to church, +or allow Maude to go. Your Miss Ashton will be having it next."</p> + +<p>"Of course they have advice from Garchester?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"How should I know? My opinion is that the parson himself might be +prosecuted for bringing the fever into a healthy neighbourhood. Port, +Hedges! One has need of a double portion of tonics in a time like this."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager's alarms were not feigned—no, nor exaggerated. She +had an intense, selfish fear of any sort of illness; she had a worse fear +of death. In any time of public epidemic her terrors would have been +almost ludicrous in their absurdity but that they were so real. And she +"fortified" herself against infection by eating and drinking more than +ever.</p> + +<p>Nothing else was said: she shunned allusion to it when she could: and +presently she and Maude left the dining-room. "You won't be long, +Hartledon?" she observed, sweetly, as she passed him. Val only bowed in +answer, closed the door upon them, and rang for Hedges.</p> + +<p>"Is there much alarm regarding this fever at the Rectory?" he asked of +the butler.</p> + +<p>"Not very much, I think, my lord. A few are timid about it; as is always +the case. One of the other servants has taken it; but Mr. Hillary told me +when he was here this morning that he hoped it would not spread beyond +the Rectory."</p> + +<p>"Was Hillary here this morning? Nobody's ill?" asked Lord Hartledon, +quickly.</p> + +<p>"No one at all, my lord. The countess-dowager sent for him, to ask what +her diet had better be, and how she could guard against infection more +effectually than she was doing. She did not allow him to come in, but +spoke to him from one of the upper windows, with a cloak and respirator +on."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked at his butler; the man was suppressing a grim +smile.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Hedges!"</p> + +<p>"It's quite true, my lord. Mrs. Mirrable says she has five bowls of +disinfectant in their rooms."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon broke into a laugh, not suppressed.</p> + +<p>"And in the courtyard, looking towards the Rectory, as may be said, +there's several pitch-pots alight night and day," added Hedges. "We have +had a host of people up, wanting to know if the place is on fire."</p> + +<p>"What a joke!" cried Val—who was not yet beyond the age to enjoy such +jokes. "Hedges," he resumed, in a more confidential tone, "no strangers +have been here inquiring for me, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>He alluded to creditors, or people acting for them. To a careless man, as +Val had been, it was a difficult matter to know whether all his debts +were paid or not. He had settled what he remembered; but there might be +others. Hedges understood; and his voice fell to the same low tone: he +had been pretty cognizant of the embarrassments of Mr. Percival Elster.</p> + +<p>"Nobody at all, my lord. They wouldn't have got much information out of +me, if they had come."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon laughed. "Things are changed now, Hedges, and they may +have as much information as they choose. Bring me coffee here; make +haste."</p> + +<p>Coffee was brought, and he went out as soon as he had taken it, following +the road to the Rectory. It was a calm, still night, the moon tolerably +bright; not a breath of wind stirred the air, warm and oppressive for +October; not by any means the sort of night doctors covet when fever is +in the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>He turned in at the Rectory-gates, and was crossing to the house, when a +rustling of leaves in a shrubbery path caused him to look over the dwarf +laurels, and there stood Anne. He was at her side in an instant. She had +nothing on her head, as though she had just come forth from the rooms for +a breath of air. As indeed was the case.</p> + +<p>"My darling!"</p> + +<p>"I heard you had come," she whispered, as he held both her hands in his, +and her heart bounded with an exquisite flutter of delight.</p> + +<p>"How did you hear that?" he said, placing her hand within his arm, that +he might pace the walk with her.</p> + +<p>"Papa heard it. Some one had seen you walking home from the train: I +think it was Mr. Hillary. But, Percival, ought you to have come here?" +she added in alarm. "This is infected ground, you know."</p> + +<p>"Not for me. I have no more fear of fever than I have of moonstroke. +Anne, I hope <i>you</i> will not take it," he gravely added.</p> + +<p>"I hope not, either. Like you, I have no fear of it. I am so glad Arthur +is away. Was it not wrong of that landlady to let her rooms to us when +she had fever in them?"</p> + +<p>"Infamously wrong," said Lord Hartledon warmly.</p> + +<p>"She excused herself afterwards by saying, that as the people who had the +fever were in quite a different part of the house from ours, she thought +there could be no danger. Papa was so angry. He told her he was sorry the +law did not take cognizance of such an offence. We had been a week in the +house before we knew of it."</p> + +<p>"How did you find it out?"</p> + +<p>"The lady who was ill with it died, and Matilda saw the coffin going up +the back stairs. She questioned the servants of the house, and one of +them told her all about it then, bit by bit. Another lady was lying ill, +and a third was recovering. The landlady, by way of excuse, said the +greatest wrong had been done to herself, for these ladies had brought the +fever into her house, and brought it deliberately. Fever had broken out +in their own home, some long way off, and they ran away from it, and took +her apartments, saying nothing; which was true, we found."</p> + +<p>"Two wrongs don't make a right," observed Lord Hartledon. "Their bringing +the fever into her house was no justification for receiving you into it +when it was there. It's the way of the world, Anne: one wrong leading to +others. Is Matilda getting over it?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. She is not out of danger; but Mr. Hillary has hopes of +her. One of the other servants has taken it, and is worse than Matilda. +Mr. Hillary has been with her three times to-day, and is coming again. +She was ill when I last wrote to you, Val; but we did not know it."</p> + +<p>"Which of them is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The dairymaid; a stout girl, who has never had a day's illness before. +I don't suppose you know her. There was some trouble with her. She would +not take any medicine; would not do anything she ought to have done, and +the consequence is that the fever has got dangerously ahead. I am sure +she is very ill."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will not spread beyond the Rectory."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Val, that is our one great hope," she said, turning her earnest face +to him in the moonlight. "We are taking all possible precautions. None of +us are going beyond the grounds, except papa, and we do not receive any +one here. I don't know what papa will say to your coming."</p> + +<p>He smiled. "But you can't keep all the world away!"</p> + +<p>"We do—very nearly. Mr. Hillary comes, and Dr. Beamish from Garchester, +and one or two people have been here on business. If any one calls at the +gate, they are not asked in; and I don't suppose they would come in if +asked. Jabez Gum's the most obstinate. He comes in just as usual."</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton is in an awful fright," said Val, in an amused tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have heard of it," cried Anne, clasping her hands in laughter. +"She is burning tar outside the house; and she spoke to Mr. Hillary this +morning through the window muffled up in a cloak and respirator. What a +strange old thing she is!"</p> + +<p>Val shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think she means badly <i>au fond</i>; and +she has no home, poor creature."</p> + +<p>"Is that why she remains at Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. Reigning at Hartledon must be something like a glimpse of +Paradise to her. She won't quit it in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you like to have her there."</p> + +<p>"I know I shall never have courage to tell her to go," was the candid and +characteristic answer. "I was afraid of her as a boy, and I'm not sure +but I'm afraid of her still."</p> + +<p>"I don't like her—I don't like either of them," said Anne in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like Maude?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am sure she is not true. To my mind there is something very false +about them both."</p> + +<p>"I think you are wrong, Anne; certainly as regards Maude."</p> + +<p>Miss Ashton did not press her opinion: they were his relatives. "But I +should have pitied poor Edward had he lived and married her," she said, +following out her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I was mistaken when I thought Maude cared for Edward," observed Lord +Hartledon. "I'm sure I did think it. I used to tell Edward so; but a day +or two after he died I found I was wrong. The dowager had been urging +Maude to like him, and she could not, and it made her miserable."</p> + +<p>"Did Maude tell you this?" inquired Anne; her radiant eyes full of +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Not Maude: she never said a word to me upon the subject. It was the +dowager."</p> + +<p>"Then, Val, she must have said it with an object in view. I am sure Maude +did love him. I know she did."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "You are wrong, Anne, depend upon it. She did not like +him, and she and her mother were at variance upon the point. However, it +is of no moment to discuss it now: and it might never have come to an +issue had Edward lived, for he did not care for her; and I dare say never +would have cared for her."</p> + +<p>Anne said no more. It was of no moment as he observed; but she retained +her own opinion. They strolled to the end of the short walk in silence, +and Anne said she must go in.</p> + +<p>"Am I quite forgiven?" whispered Lord Hartledon, bending his head down to +her.</p> + +<p>"I never thought I had very much to forgive," she rejoined, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"My darling! I mean by your father."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I don't know. You must talk to him. He knows we have been writing to +each other. I think he means to trust you."</p> + +<p>"The best plan will be for you to come soon to Hartledon, Anne. I shall +never go wrong when once you are my wife."</p> + +<p>"Do you go so very wrong now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"On my honour, no! You need not doubt me, Anne; now or ever. I have paid +up what I owed, and will take very good care to keep out of trouble for +the future. I incurred debts for others, more than for myself, and have +bought experience dearly. My darling, surely you can trust me now?"</p> + +<p>"I always did trust you," she murmured.</p> + +<p>He took a long, fervent kiss from her lips, and then led her to the open +lawn and across to the house.</p> + +<p>"Ought you to come in, Percival?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. One word, Anne; because I may be speaking to the Rector—I +don't mean to-night. You will make no objection to coming soon to +Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"I can't come, you know, as long as Lady Kirton is its mistress," she +said, half seriously, half jestingly.</p> + +<p>He laughed at the notion. Lady Kirton must be going soon of her own +accord; if not, he should have to pluck up courage and give her a hint, +was his answer. At any rate, she'd surely take herself off before +Christmas. The old dowager at Hartledon after he had Anne there! Not if +he knew it, he added, as he went on with her into the presence of Dr. and +Mrs. Ashton. The Rector started from his seat, at once telling him that +he ought not to have come in. Which Val did not see at all, and decidedly +refused to go out again.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the countess-dowager and Maude were wondering what had become +of him. They supposed he was still sitting in the dining-room. The old +dowager fidgeted about, her fingers ominously near the bell. She was +burning to send to him, but hardly knew how he might take the message: it +might be that he would object to leading strings, and her attempt to put +them on would ruin all. But the time went on; grew late; and she was +dying for her tea, which she had chosen should wait also. Maude sat +before the fire in a large chair; her eyes, her hands, her whole air +supremely listless.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want tea, Maude?" suddenly cried her mother, who had cast +innumerable glances at her from time to time.</p> + +<p>"I have wanted it for hours—as it seems to me."</p> + +<p>"It's a horrid custom for young men, this sitting long after dinner. If +he gets into it—But you must see to that, and stop it, if ever you reign +at Hartledon. I dare say he's smoking."</p> + +<p>"If ever I reign at Hartledon—which I am not likely to do—I'll take +care not to wait tea for any one, as you have made me wait for it this +evening," was Maude's rejoinder, spoken with apathy.</p> + +<p>"I'll send a message to him," decided Lady Kirton, ringing rather +fiercely.</p> + +<p>A servant appeared.</p> + +<p>"Tell Lord Hartledon we are waiting tea for him."</p> + +<p>"His lordship's not in, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Not in!"</p> + +<p>"He went out directly after dinner, as soon as he had taken coffee."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the countess-dowager. And she began to make the tea with +vehemence—for it did not please her to have it brought in made—and +knocked down and broke one of the delicate china cups.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER PATIENT.</h3> + + +<p>It was eleven o'clock when Lord Hartledon entered. Lady Kirton was +fanning herself vehemently. Maude had gone upstairs for the night.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" she asked, laying down her fan. "We waited tea for +you until poor Maude got quite exhausted."</p> + +<p>"Did you? I am sorry for that. Never wait for me, pray, Lady Kirton. I +took tea at the Rectory."</p> + +<p>"Took—tea—where?"</p> + +<p>"At the Rectory."</p> + +<p>With a shriek the countess-dowager darted to the far end of the room, +turning up her gown as she went, and muffling it over her head and face, +so that only the little eyes, round now with horror, were seen. Lord +Hartledon gazed in amazement.</p> + +<p>"You have been at the Rectory, when I warned you not to go! You have been +inside that house of infection, and come home—here—to me—to my darling +Maude! May heaven forgive you, Hartledon!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what have I done? What harm will it do?" exclaimed the astonished +man. He would have approached her, but she warned him from her piteously +with her hands. She was at the upper end of the room, and he near the +door, so that she could not leave it without passing him. Hedges came +in, and stood staring in the same wondering astonishment as his master.</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake, take off every shred of your clothes!" she cried. "You +may have brought home death in them. They shall be thrown into the +burning tar. Do you want to kill us? What has Maude done to you that you +behave in this way?"</p> + +<p>"I do think you must be going mad!" cried Lord Hartledon, in +bewilderment; "and I hope you'll forgive me for saying so. I—"</p> + +<p>"Go and change your clothes!" was all she could reiterate. "Every minute +you stand in them is fraught with danger. If you choose to die yourself, +it's downright wicked to bring death to us. Oh, go, that I may get out of +here."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon, to pacify her, left the room, and the countess-dowager +rushed forth and bolted herself into her own apartments.</p> + +<p>Was she mad, or making a display of affectation, or genuinely afraid? +wondered Lord Hartledon aloud, as he went up to his chamber. Hedges gave +it as his opinion that she was really afraid, because she had been as bad +as this when she first heard of the illness, before his lordship arrived. +Val retired to rest laughing: it was a good joke to him.</p> + +<p>But it was no joke to the countess-dowager, as he found to his cost when +the morning came. She got him out of his chamber betimes, and commenced a +"fumigating" process. The clothes he had worn she insisted should be +burnt; pleading so piteously that he yielded in his good nature.</p> + +<p>But there was to be a battle on another score. She forbade him, in the +most positive terms, to go again to the Rectory—to approach within +half-a-mile of it. Lord Hartledon civilly told her he could not comply; +he hinted that if her alarms were so great, she had better leave the +place until all danger was over, and thereby nearly entailed on himself +another war-dance.</p> + +<p>News that came up that morning from the Rectory did not tend to assuage +her fears. The poor dairymaid had died in the night, and another servant, +one of the men, was sickening. Even Lord Hartledon looked grave: and the +countess-dowager wormed a half promise from him, in the softened feelings +of the moment, that he would not visit the infected house.</p> + +<p>Before an hour was over he came to her to retract it. "I cannot be so +unfeeling, so unneighbourly, as not to call," he said. "Even were my +relations not what they are with Miss Ashton, I could not do it. It's of +no use talking, ma'am; I am too restless to stay away."</p> + +<p>A little skirmish of words ensued. Lady Kirton accused him of wishing to +sacrifice them to his own selfish gratification. Lord Hartledon felt +uncomfortable at the accusation. One of the best-hearted men living, he +did nothing in his vacillation. He would go in the evening, he said to +himself, when they could not watch him from the house.</p> + +<p>But she was clever at carrying out her own will, that countess-dowager; +more than a match for the single-minded young man. She wrote an urgent +letter to Dr. Ashton, setting forth her own and her daughter's danger if +her nephew, as she styled him, was received at the Rectory; and she +despatched it privately.</p> + +<p>It brought forth a letter from Dr. Ashton to Lord Hartledon; a kind but +peremptory mandate, forbidding him to show himself at the Rectory until +the illness was over. Dr. Ashton reminded his future son-in-law that it +was not particularly on his own account he interposed this veto, but for +the sake of the neighbourhood generally. If they were to prevent the +fever from spreading, it was absolutely necessary that no chance visitors +should be running into the Rectory and out of it again, to carry possible +infection to the parish.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon could only acquiesce. The note was written in terms so +positive as rather to surprise him; but he never suspected the +undercurrent that had been at work. In his straightforwardness he showed +the letter to the dowager, who nodded her head approvingly, but told no +tales.</p> + +<p>And so his days went on in the society of the two women at Hartledon; +and if he found himself oppressed with <i>ennui</i> at first, he subsided +into a flirtation with Maude, and forgot care. Elster's folly! He was not +hearing from Anne, for it was thought better that even notes should not +pass out of the Rectory.</p> + +<p>Curiously to relate, the first person beyond the Rectory to take the +illness was the man Pike. How he could have caught it was a marvel to +Calne. And yet, if Lady Kirton's theory were correct, that infection was +conveyed by clothes, it might be accounted for, and Clerk Gum be deemed +the culprit. One evening after the clerk had been for some little time at +the Rectory with Dr. Ashton, he met Pike in going out; had brushed close +to him in passing, as he well remembered. However it might have been, in +a few days after that Pike was found to be suffering from the fever.</p> + +<p>Whether he would have died, lying alone in that shed, Calne did not +decide; and some thought he would, making no sign; some thought not, but +would have called in assistance. Mr. Hillary, an observant man, as +perhaps it was requisite he should be in time of public danger, halted +one morning to speak to Clerk Gum, who was standing at his own gate.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen anything lately of that neighbour of yours, Gum?"</p> + +<p>"Which neighbour?" asked the clerk, in tones that seemed to resent the +question.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hillary pointed his umbrella in the direction of the shed. "Pike."</p> + +<p>"No, I've seen nothing of him, that I remember."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I. What's more, I've seen no smoke coming out of the +chimney these two days. It strikes me he's ill. It may be the fever."</p> + +<p>"Gone away, possibly," remarked the clerk, after a moment's pause; "in +the same unceremonious manner that he came."</p> + +<p>"I think somebody ought to see. He may be lying there helpless."</p> + +<p>"Little matter if he is," growled the clerk, who seemed put out about +something or other.</p> + +<p>"It's not like you to say so, Gum. You might step over the stile and see; +you're nearest to him. Nobody knows what the man is, or what he may have +been; but humanity does not let even the worst die unaided."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think he has the fever?" asked the clerk.</p> + +<p>"I only say he may have it; having seen neither him nor his smoke these +two days. Never mind; if it annoys you to do this, I'll look in myself +some time to-day."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't get admitted; he keeps his door fastened," returned Gum. +"The only way to get at him is to shout out to him through that glazed +aperture he calls his window."</p> + +<p>"Will you do it—or shall I?"</p> + +<p>"I'll do it," said the clerk; "and tell you if your services are wanted."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hillary walked off at a quick pace. There was a good deal of illness +in Calne at that season, though the fever had not spread.</p> + +<p>Whether Clerk Gum kept his word, or whether he did not, certain it was +that Mr. Hillary heard nothing from him that day. In the evening the +clerk was sitting in his office in a thoughtful mood, busy over some +accounts connected with an insurance company for which he was agent, when +he heard a quick sharp knock at the front-door.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if it's Hillary?" he muttered, as he took the candle and rose +to open it.</p> + +<p>Instead of the surgeon, there entered a lady, with much energy. It was +the <i>bête noire</i> of Clerk Gum's life, Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"What's the house shut up for at this early hour?" she began. "The door +locked, the shutters up, and the blinds down, just as if everybody was +dead or asleep. Where's Nance?"</p> + +<p>"She's out," said the clerk. "I suppose she shut up before she went, and +I've been in my office all the afternoon. Do you want anything?"</p> + +<p>"Do I want anything!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "I've come in to shelter from +the rain. It's been threatening all the evening, and it's coming down now +like cats and dogs."</p> + +<p>The clerk was leading the way to the little parlour; but she ignored the +movement, and went on to the kitchen. He could only follow her. "It's a +pity you came out when it threatened rain," said he.</p> + +<p>"Business took me out," replied Mrs. Jones. "I've been up to the mill. +I heard young Rip was ill, and going to leave; so I went up to ask if +they'd try our Jim. But young Rip isn't going to leave, and isn't ill, +mother Floyd says, though it's certain he's not well. She can't think +what's the matter with the boy; he's always fancying he sees ghosts in +the river. I've had my trapes for nothing."</p> + +<p>She had given her gown a good shake from the rain-drops in the middle of +the kitchen, and was now seated before the fire. The clerk stood by the +table, occasionally snuffing the candle, and wishing she'd take herself +off again.</p> + +<p>"Where's Nancy gone?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear her say."</p> + +<p>"And she'll be gone a month of Sundays, I suppose. I shan't wait for her, +if the rain gives over."</p> + +<p>"You'd be more comfortable in the small parlour," said the clerk, who +seemed rather fidgety; "there's a nice bit of fire there."</p> + +<p>"I'm more comfortable here," contradicted Mrs. Jones. "Where's the good +of a bit of fire for a gown as wet as mine?"</p> + +<p>Jabez Gum made no response. There was the lady, a fixture; and he could +only resign himself to the situation.</p> + +<p>"How's your friend at the next house—Pike?" she began again +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"He's no friend of mine," said the clerk.</p> + +<p>"It looks like it, at all events; or you'd have given him into custody +long ago. <i>I</i> wouldn't let a man harbour himself so close to me. He's +taken to a new dodge now: going about with a pistol to shoot people."</p> + +<p>"Who says so?" asked the clerk.</p> + +<p>"I say so. He frighted that boy Ripper pretty near to death. The boy tore +home one night in a state of terror, and all they could get out of him +was that he'd met Pike with a pistol. It's weeks ago, and he hasn't got +over it yet."</p> + +<p>"Did Pike level it at him?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you that's all they could get out of the boy. He's a nice +jail-bird too, that young Rip, unless I'm mistaken. They might as +well send him away, and make room for our Jim."</p> + +<p>"I think you are about the most fanciful, unjust, selfish woman in +Calne!" exclaimed the clerk, unable to keep down his anger any longer. +"You'd take young Ripper's character away without scruple, just because +his place might suit your Jim!"</p> + +<p>"I'm what?" shrieked Mrs. Jones. "I'm unjust, am I—"</p> + +<p>An interruption occurred, and Mrs. Jones subsided into silence. The +back-door suddenly opened, not a couple of yards from that lady's head, +and in came Mrs. Gum in her ordinary indoor dress, two basins in her +hand. The sight of her visitor appeared to occasion her surprise; she +uttered a faint scream, and nearly dropped the basins.</p> + +<p>"Lawk a mercy! Is it Lydia Jones?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones had been drawing a quiet deduction—the clerk had said his +wife was out only to deceive her. She rose from her chair, and faced him.</p> + +<p>"I thought you told me she was gone out?"</p> + +<p>The clerk coughed. He looked at his wife, as if asking an explanation. +The meeker of the two women hastily put her basins down, and stood +looking from one to the other, apparently recovering breath.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you go out?" asked the clerk.</p> + +<p>"I was going, Gum, but stepped out first to collect my basins, and then +the rain came down. I had to shelter under the wood-shed, it was +peppering so."</p> + +<p>"Collect your basins!" interjected Mrs. Jones. "Where from?"</p> + +<p>"I put them out with scraps for the cats."</p> + +<p>"The cats must be well off in your quarter; better than some children in +others," was the rejoinder, delivered with an unnecessary amount of +spite. "What makes you so out of breath?" she tartly asked.</p> + +<p>"I had a bit of a fright," said the woman, simply. "My breath seems to +get affected at nothing of late, Lydia."</p> + +<p>"A pity but you'd your hands full of work, as mine are: that's the best +remedy for fright," said Mrs. Jones sarcastically. "What might your +fright have been, pray?"</p> + +<p>"I was standing, waiting to dart over here, when I saw a man come across +the waste land and make for Pike's shed," said Mrs. Gum, looking at her +husband. "It gave me a turn. We've never seen a soul go near the place of +an evening since Pike has been there."</p> + +<p>"Why should it give you a turn?" asked Mrs. Jones, who was in a mood +to contradict everything. "You've seen Pike often enough not to be +frightened at him when he keeps his distance."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Pike, Lydia. The man had an umbrella over him, and he looked +like a gentleman. Fancy Pike with an umbrella!"</p> + +<p>"Was it Mr. Hillary?" interposed the clerk.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I don't think so; but it was getting too dark to +see. Any way, it gave me a turn; and he's gone right up to Pike's shed."</p> + +<p>"Gave you a turn, indeed!" scornfully repeated Mrs. Jones. "I think +you're getting more of an idiot every day, Nance. It's to be hoped +somebody's gone to take him up; that's what is to be hoped."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Hillary it was. Hearing nothing from Jabez Gum all day, he had +come to the conclusion that that respectable man had ignored his promise, +and, unable to divest himself of the idea that Pike was ill, in the +evening, having a minute to spare, he went forth to see for himself.</p> + +<p>The shed-door was closed, but not fastened, and Mr. Hillary went in at +once without ceremony. A lighted candle shed its rays around the rude +dwelling-room: and the first thing he saw was a young man, who did not +look in the least like Pike, stretched upon a mattress; the second was a +bushy black wig and appurtenances lying on a chair; and the third was a +formidable-looking pistol, conveniently close to the prostrate invalid.</p> + +<p>Quick as thought, the surgeon laid his hand upon the pistol and removed +it to a safe distance. He then bent over the sick man, examining him with +his penetrating eyes; and what he saw struck him with consternation so +great, that he sat down on a chair to recover himself, albeit not liable +to be overcome by emotion.</p> + +<p>When he left the shed—which was not for nearly half-an-hour after he had +entered it—he heard voices at Clerk Gum's front-door. The storm was +over, and their visitor was departing. Mr. Hillary took a moment's +counsel with himself, then crossed the stile and appeared amongst them. +Nodding to the three collectively, he gravely addressed the clerk and his +wife.</p> + +<p>"I have come here to ask, in the name of our common humanity, whether you +will put aside your prejudices, and be Christians in a case of need," he +began. "I don't forget that once, when an epidemic was raging in Calne, +you"—turning to the wife—"were active and fearless, going about and +nursing the sick when almost all others held aloof. Will you do the same +now by a helpless man?"</p> + +<p>The woman trembled all over. Clerk Gum looked questioningly at the +doctor. Mrs. Jones was taking in everything with eyes and ears.</p> + +<p>"This neighbour of yours has caught the fever. Some one must attend to +him, or he will lie there and die. I thought perhaps you'd do it, Mrs. +Gum, for our Saviour's sake—if from no other motive."</p> + +<p>She trembled excessively. "I always was terribly afraid of that man, sir, +since he came," said she, with marked hesitation.</p> + +<p>"But he cannot harm you now. I don't ask you to go in to him one day +after he is well again—if he recovers. Neither need you be with him +as a regular nurse: only step in now and then to give him his physic, +or change the wet cloths on his burning head."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones found her voice. The enormous impudence of the surgeon's +request had caused its temporary extinction.</p> + +<p>"I'd see Pike in his coffin before I'd go a-nigh him as a nurse! What on +earth will you be asking next, Mr. Hillary?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't ask you, Mrs. Jones: you have your children to attend to; full +employment for one pair of arms. Mrs. Gum has nothing to do with her +time; and is near at hand besides. Gum, you stand in your place by Dr. +Ashton every Sunday, and read out to us of the loving mercy of God: will +you urge your wife to this little work of charity for His sake?"</p> + +<p>Jabez Gum evidently did not know what to answer. On the one hand, he +could hardly go against the precepts he had to respond to as clerk; on +the other, there was his scorn and hatred of the disreputable Arab.</p> + +<p>"He's such a loose character, sir," he debated at length.</p> + +<p>"Possibly: when he is well. But he is ill now, and could not be loose if +he tried. Some one <i>must</i> go in now and then to see after him: it struck +me that perhaps your wife would do it, for humanity's sake; and I thought +I'd ask her before going further."</p> + +<p>"She can do as she likes," said Jabez.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum—as unresisting in her nature as ever was Percival +Elster—yielded to the prayer of the surgeon, and said she would do +what she could. But she had never shown more nervousness over anything +than she was showing as she gave her answer.</p> + +<p>"Then I will step indoors and give you a few plain directions," said the +surgeon. "Mrs. Jones has taken her departure, I perceive."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum was as good as her word, and went in with dire trepidation. +Calne's sentiments, on the whole, resembled Mrs. Jones's, and the woman +was blamed for her yielding nature. But she contrived, with the help of +Mr. Hillary's skill, to bring the man through the fever; and it was very +singular that no other person out of the Rectory took it.</p> + +<p>The last one to take it at the Rectory was Mrs. Ashton. Of the three +servants who had it, one had died; the other two recovered. Mrs. Ashton +did not take it until the rest were well, and she had it lightly. Anne +nursed her and would do so; and it was an additional reason for +prolonging the veto against Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>One morning in December, Val, in passing down the road, saw the Rectory +turned, as he called it, inside out. Every window was thrown open; +curtains were taken down; altogether there seemed to be a comprehensive +cleaning going on. At that moment Mr. Hillary passed, and Val arrested +him, pointing to the Rectory.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are having a cleansing and purification. The family went away +this morning."</p> + +<p>"Went where?" exclaimed Hartledon, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Ashton has taken a cottage near Ventnor."</p> + +<p>"Had Mrs. Ashton quite recovered?"</p> + +<p>"Quite: or they would not have gone. The Rectory has had a clean bill of +health for some time past."</p> + +<p>"Then why did they not let me know it?" exclaimed Val, in his +astonishment and anger.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you didn't ask," said the surgeon. "But no visitors were sought. +Time enough for that when the house shall have been fumigated."</p> + +<p>"They might have sent to me," he cried, in resentment. "To go away and +never let me know it!"</p> + +<p>"They may have thought you were too agreeably engaged to care to be +disturbed," remarked the surgeon.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" demanded Val, hotly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hillary laughed. "People will talk, you know; and rumour has it that +Lord Hartledon has found attractions in his own home, whilst the Rectory +was debarred to him."</p> + +<p>Val wheeled round on his heel, and walked away in displeasure. Home +truths are never palatable. But the kindly disposition of the man resumed +its sway immediately: he turned back, and pointed to the shed.</p> + +<p>"Is that interesting patient of yours on his legs again?"</p> + +<p>"He is getting better. The disease attacked him fiercely and was +unusually prolonged. It's strange he should have been the only one to +take it."</p> + +<p>"Gum's wife has been nursing him, I hear?"</p> + +<p>"She has gone in and out to do such necessary offices as the sick +require. I put it to her from a Christian point of view, you see, and on +the score of humanity. She was at hand; and that's a great thing where +the nurse is only a visiting one."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Hillary; don't let the man want for anything; see that he has +all he needs. He is a black sheep, no doubt; but illness levels us all to +one standard. Good day."</p> + +<p>"Good day, Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>And when the surgeon had got to a distance with his quick step, Lord +Hartledon turned back to the Rectory.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>VAL'S DILEMMA.</h3> + + +<p>It was a mild day in spring. The air was balmy, but the skies were grey +and lowering; and as a gentleman strolled across a field adjoining +Hartledon Park he looked up at them more than once, as if asking whether +they threatened rain.</p> + +<p>Not that he had any great personal interest in the question. Whether the +skies gave forth sunshine or rain is of little moment to a mind not at +rest. He had only looked up in listlessness. A stranger might have taken +him at a distance for a gamekeeper: his coat was of velveteen; his boots +were muddy: but a nearer inspection would have removed the impression.</p> + +<p>It was Lord Hartledon; but changed since you last saw him. For some time +past there had been a worn, weary look upon his face, bespeaking a mind +ill at ease; the truth is, his conscience was not at rest, and in time +that tells on the countenance.</p> + +<p>He had been by the fish-pond for an hour. But the fish had not shown +themselves inclined to bite, and he grew too impatient to remain. +Not altogether impatient at the wary fish, but in his own mental +restlessness. The fishing-rod was carried in his hand in pieces; and he +splashed along, in a brown study, on the wet ground, flinging himself +over the ha-ha with an ungracious movement. Some one was approaching +across the park from the house, and Lord Hartledon walked on to a gate, +and waited there for him to come up. He began beating the bars with the +thin end of the rod, and—broke it!</p> + +<p>"That's the way you use your fishing-rods," cried the free, pleasant +voice of the new-comer. "I shouldn't mind being appointed purveyor of +tackle to your lordship."</p> + +<p>The stranger was an active little man, older than Hartledon; his features +were thin, his eyes dark and luminous. I think you have heard his +name—Thomas Carr. Lord Hartledon once called him the greatest friend he +possessed on earth. He had been wont to fly to him in his past dilemmas, +and the habit was strong upon him still. A mandate that would have been +peremptory, but for the beseeching terms in which it was couched, had +reached Mr. Carr on circuit; and he had hastened across country to obey +it, reaching Hartledon the previous evening. That something was wrong, +Mr. Carr of course was aware; but what, he did not yet know. Lord +Hartledon, with his natural vacillation, his usual shrinking from the +discussion of unpleasant topics relating to himself, had not entered upon +it at all on the previous night; and when breakfast was over that +morning, Mr. Carr had craved an hour alone for letter-writing. It was the +first time Mr. Carr had visited his friend at his new inheritance; indeed +the first time he had been at all at Hartledon. Lord Hartledon seated +himself on the gate; the barrister leaned his arms on the top bar whilst +he talked to him.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" asked the latter.</p> + +<p>"Not much."</p> + +<p>"I have finished my letters, so I came out to look for you. You are not +changed, Elster."</p> + +<p>"What should change me in so short a time?—it's only six months since +you last saw me," retorted Hartledon, curtly.</p> + +<p>"I alluded to your nature. I had to worm the troubles out of you in the +old days, each one as it arose. I see I shall have to do the same now. +Don't say there's not much the matter, for I am sure there is."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon jerked his handkerchief out of his pocket, passed it over +his face, and put it back again.</p> + +<p>"What fresh folly have you got into?—as I used to ask you at Oxford. You +are in some mess."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's of no use denying that I am in one. An awful mess, too."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have pulled you out of many a one in my time. Let me hear it."</p> + +<p>"There are some things one does not like to talk about, Carr. I sent for +you in my perplexity; but I believe you can be of no use to me."</p> + +<p>"So you have said before now. But it generally turned out that I was of +use to you, and cleared you from your nightmare."</p> + +<p>"All those were minor difficulties; this is different."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand your 'not liking' to speak of things to me. Why +don't you begin?"</p> + +<p>"Because I shall prove myself worse than a fool. You'll despise me to +your heart's core. Carr, I think I shall go mad!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me the cause first, and go mad afterwards. Come, Val; I am your +true friend."</p> + +<p>"I have made an offer of marriage to two women," said Hartledon, +desperately plunging into the revelation. "Never was such a born idiot +in the world as I have been. I can't marry both."</p> + +<p>"I imagine not," quietly replied Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"You knew I was engaged to Miss Ashton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure I loved her with all my"—he seemed to hesitate for a +strong term—"might and main; and do still. But I have managed to get +into mischief elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Elster's folly, as usual. What sort of mischief?"</p> + +<p>"The worst sort, for there can be no slipping out of it. When that fever +broke out at Doctor Ashton's—you heard us talking of it last night, +Carr—I went to the Rectory just as usual. What did I care for fever?—it +was not likely to attack me. But the countess-dowager found it out—"</p> + +<p>"Why do they stay here so long?" interrupted Thomas Carr. "They have been +here ever since your brother died."</p> + +<p>"And before it. The old woman likes her quarters, and has no settled +home. She makes a merit of stopping, and says I ought to feel under +eternal obligation to her and Maude for sacrificing themselves to a +solitary man and his household. But you should have heard the uproar +she made upon discovering I had been to the Rectory. She had my room +fumigated and my clothes burnt."</p> + +<p>"Foolish old creature!"</p> + +<p>"The best of it was, I pointed out by mistake the wrong coat, and +the offending one is upstairs now. I shall show it her some day. She +reproached me with holding her life and her daughter's dirt-cheap, and +wormed a promise out of me not to visit the Rectory as long as fever was +in it."</p> + +<p>"Which you gave?"</p> + +<p>"She wormed it out of me, I tell you. I don't know that I should have +kept it, but Dr. Ashton put in his veto also; and between the two I was +kept away. For many weeks afterwards I never saw or spoke to Anne. She +did not come out at all, even to church; they were so anxious the fever +should not spread."</p> + +<p>"Well? Go on, Val."</p> + +<p>"Well: how does that proverb run, about idleness being the root of all +evil? During those weeks I was an idle man, wretchedly bored; and I fell +into a flirtation with Maude. She began it, Carr, on my solemn word of +honour—though it's a shame to tell these tales of a woman; and I joined +in from sheer weariness, to kill time. But you know how one gets led on +in such things—or I do, if you, you cautious fellow, don't—and we both +went in pretty deep."</p> + +<p>"Elster's folly again! How deep?"</p> + +<p>"As deep as I well could, short of committing myself to a proposal. You +see the ill-luck of it was, those two and I being alone in the house. I +may as well say Maude and I alone; for the old woman kept her room very +much; she had a cold, she said, and was afraid of the fever."</p> + +<p>"Tush!" cried Thomas Carr angrily. "And you made love to the young lady?"</p> + +<p>"As fast as I could make it. What a fool I was! But I protest I only did +it in amusement; I never thought of her supplanting Anne Ashton. Now, +Carr, you are looking as you used to look at Oxford; get your brow smooth +again. You just shut up yourself for weeks with a fascinating girl, and +see if you wouldn't find yourself in some horrible entanglement, proof +against such as you think you are."</p> + +<p>"As I am obliged to be. I should take care not to lay myself open to the +temptation. Neither need you have done it."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how I was to help myself. Often and often I wished to have +visitors in the house, but the old woman met me with reproaches that I +was forgetting the recent death of my brother. She won't have any one now +if she knows it, and I had to send for you quietly. Did you see how she +stared last night when you came in?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr drew down his lips. "You might have gone away yourself, Elster."</p> + +<p>"Of course I might," was the testy reply. "But I was a fool, and didn't. +Carr, I swear to you I fell into the trap unconsciously; I did not +foresee danger. Maude is a charming girl, there's no denying it; but +as to love, I never glanced at it."</p> + +<p>"Was it not suspected in town last year that Lady Maude had a liking for +your brother?"</p> + +<p>"It was suspected there and here; I thought it myself. We were mistaken. +One day lately Maude offended me, and I hinted at something of the sort: +she turned red and white with indignation, saying she wished he could +rise from his grave to refute it. I only wish he could!" added the +unhappy man.</p> + +<p>"Have you told me all?"</p> + +<p>"All! I wish I had. In December I was passing the Rectory, and saw it +dismantled. Hillary, whom I met, said the family had gone to Ventnor. I +went in, but could not learn any particulars, or get the address. I +chanced a letter, written I confess in anger, directing it Ventnor only, +and it found them. Anne's answer was cool: mischief-making tongues had +been talking about me and Maude; I learned so much from Hillary; and Anne +no doubt resented it. I resented that—can you follow me, Carr?—and I +said to myself I wouldn't write again for some time to come. Before that +time came the climax had occurred."</p> + +<p>"And while you were waiting for your temper to come round in regard to +Miss Ashton, you continued to make love to the Lady Maude?" remarked Mr. +Carr. "On the face of things, I should say your love had been transferred +to her."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it hadn't. Next to Anne, she's the most charming girl I know; +that's all. Between the two it will be awful work for me."</p> + +<p>"So I should think," returned Mr. Carr. "The ass between two bundles of +hay was nothing to it."</p> + +<p>"He was not an ass at all, compared with what I am," assented Val, +gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Well, if a man behaves like an ass—"</p> + +<p>"Don't moralize," interrupted Hartledon; "but rather advise me how to get +out of my dilemma. The morning's drawing on, and I have promised to ride +with Maude."</p> + +<p>"You had better ride alone. All the advice I can give you is to draw back +by degrees, and so let the flirtation subside. If there is no actual +entanglement—"</p> + +<p>"Stop a bit, Carr; I had not come to it," interrupted Lord Hartledon, who +in point of fact had been holding back what he called the climax, in his +usual vacillating manner. "One ill-starred day, when it was pouring cats +and dogs, and I could not get out, I challenged Maude to a game at +billiards. Maude lost. I said she should pay me, and put my arm round her +waist and snatched a kiss. Just at that moment in came the dowager, who I +believe must have been listening—"</p> + +<p>"Not improbably," interrupted Mr. Carr, significantly.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, you two dear turtle-doves,' cried she, 'Hartledon, you have made me +so happy! I have seen for some weeks what you were thinking of. There's +nobody living I'd confide that dear child to but yourself: you shall have +her, and my blessing shall be upon you both.'</p> + +<p>"Carr," continued poor Val, "I was struck dumb. All the absurdity of the +thing rose up before me. In my confusion I could not utter a word. A man +with more moral courage might have spoken out; acknowledged the shame and +folly of his conduct and apologized. I could not."</p> + +<p>"Elster's folly! Elster's folly!" thought the barrister. "You never had +the slightest spark of moral courage," he observed aloud, in pained +tones. "What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. There's the worst of it. I neither denied the dowager's +assumption, nor confirmed it. Of course I cannot now."</p> + +<p>"When was this?"</p> + +<p>"In December."</p> + +<p>"And how have things gone on since? How do you stand with them?"</p> + +<p>"Things have gone on as they went on before; and I stand engaged to +Maude, in her mother's opinion; perhaps in hers: never having said myself +one word to support the engagement."</p> + +<p>"Only continued to 'make love,' and 'snatch a kiss,'" sarcastically +rejoined Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"Once in a way. What is a man to do, exposed to the witchery of a pretty +girl?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival! You are worse than I thought for. Where is Miss Ashton?"</p> + +<p>"Coming home next Friday," groaned Val. "And the dowager asked me +yesterday whether Maude and I had arranged the time for our marriage. +What on earth I shall do, I don't know. I might sail for some remote land +and convert myself into a savage, where I should never be found or +recognized; there's no other escape for me."</p> + +<p>"How much does Miss Ashton know of this?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I had a letter from her this morning, more kindly than her +letters have been of late."</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon!" exclaimed Mr. Carr, in startled tones. "Is it possible +that you are carrying on a correspondence with Miss Ashton, and your +love-making with Lady Maude?"</p> + +<p>Val nodded assent, looking really ashamed of himself.</p> + +<p>"And you call yourself a man of honour! Why, you are the greatest +humbug—"</p> + +<p>"That's enough; no need to sum it up. I see all I've been."</p> + +<p>"I understood you to imply that your correspondence with Miss Ashton had +ceased."</p> + +<p>"It was renewed. Dr. Ashton came up to preach one Sunday, just before +Christmas, and he and I got friendly again; you know I never can be +unfriendly with any one long. The next day I wrote to Anne, and we have +corresponded since; more coolly though than we used to do. Circumstances +have been really against me. Had they continued at Ventnor, I should have +gone down and spent my Christmas with them, and nothing of this would +have happened; but they must needs go to Dr. Ashton's sister's in +Yorkshire for Christmas; and there they are still. It was in that +miserable Christmas week that the mischief occurred. And now you have +the whole, Carr. I know I've been a fool; but what is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon," was the grave rejoinder, "I am unable to give you +advice in this. Your conduct is indefensible."</p> + +<p>"Don't 'Lord Hartledon' me: I won't stand it. Carr?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"If you bring up against me a string of reproaches lasting until night +will that mend matters? I am conscious of possessing but one true friend +in the world, and that's yourself. You must stand by me."</p> + +<p>"I was your friend; never a truer. But I believed you to be a man of +honour."</p> + +<p>Hartledon lifted his hat from his brow; as though the brow alone were +heavy enough just then. At least the thought struck Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"I have been drawn unwittingly into this, as I have into other things. I +never meant to do wrong. As to dishonour, Heaven knows my nature shrinks +from it."</p> + +<p>"If your nature does, you don't," came the severe answer. "I should feel +ashamed to put forth the same plea always of 'falling unwittingly' into +disgrace. You have done it ever since you were a schoolboy. Talk of the +Elster folly! this has gone beyond it. This is dishonour. Engaged to one +girl, and corresponding with her; making hourly love for weeks to +another! May I inquire which of the two you really care for?"</p> + +<p>"Anne—I suppose."</p> + +<p>"You suppose!"</p> + +<p>"You make me wild, talking like this. Of course it's Anne. Maude has +managed to creep into my regard, though, in no common degree. She is very +lovely, very fascinating and amiable."</p> + +<p>"May I ask which of the two you intend to marry!" continued the +barrister, neither suppressing nor attempting to soften his indignant +tones. "As this country's laws are against a plurality of wives, you will +be unable, I imagine, to espouse them both."</p> + +<p>Hartledon looked at him, beseechingly, and a sudden compassion came over +Mr. Carr. He asked himself whether it was quite the way to treat a +perplexed man who was very dear to him.</p> + +<p>"If I am severe, it is for your sake. I assure you I scarcely know what +advice to give. It is Miss Ashton, of course, whom you intend to make +Lady Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is. The difficulty in the matter is getting clear of +Maude."</p> + +<p>"And the formidable countess-dowager. You must tell Maude the truth."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, Carr. I might have done it once; but the thing has gone on +so long. The dowager would devour me."</p> + +<p>"Let her try to. I should speak to Maude alone, and put her upon her +generosity to release you. Tell her you presumed upon your cousinship; +and confess that you have long been engaged to marry Miss Ashton."</p> + +<p>"She knows that: they have both known it all along. My brother was the +first to tell them, before he died."</p> + +<p>"They knew it?" inquired Mr. Carr, believing he had not heard correctly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. There has been no secret made of my engagement to Anne. All +the world knows of that."</p> + +<p>"Then—though I do not in the least defend or excuse you—your breaking +with Lady Maude may be more pardonable. They are poor, are they not, this +Dowager Kirton and Lady Maude?"</p> + +<p>"Poor as Job. Hard up, I think."</p> + +<p>"Then they are angling for the broad lands of Hartledon. I see it all. +You have been a victim to fortune-hunting."</p> + +<p>"There you are wrong, Carr. I can't answer for the dowager one way or the +other; but Maude is the most disinterested—"</p> + +<p>"Of course: girls on the look-out for establishments always are. Have it +as you like."</p> + +<p>He spoke in tones of ridicule; and Hartledon jumped off the stile and led +the way home.</p> + +<p>That Lord Hartledon had got himself into a very serious predicament, Mr. +Carr plainly saw. His good nature, his sensitive regard for the feelings +of others, rendering it so impossible for him to say no, and above all +his vacillating disposition, were his paramount characteristics still: in +a degree they ever would be. Easily led as ever, he was as a very reed +in the hands of the crafty old woman of the world, located with him. She +had determined that he should become the husband of her daughter; and was +as certain of accomplishing her end as if she had foreseen the future. +Lord Hartledon himself afterwards, in his bitter repentance, said, over +and over again, that circumstances were against him; and they certainly +were so, as you will find.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon thought he was making headway against it now, in sending +for his old friend, and resolving to be guided by his advice.</p> + +<p>"I will take an opportunity of speaking to Maude, Carr," he resumed. "I +would rather not do it, of course; but I see there's no help for it."</p> + +<p>"Make the opportunity," said Mr. Carr, with emphasis. "Don't delay a day; +I shall expect you to write me a letter to-morrow saying you've done it."</p> + +<p>"But you won't leave to-day," said Hartledon, entreatingly, feeling an +instant prevision that with the departure of Thomas Carr all his courage +would ignominiously desert him.</p> + +<p>"I must go. You know I told you last night that my stay could only be +four-and-twenty hours. You can accomplish it whilst I am here, if you +like, and get it over; the longer a nauseous medicine is held to the lips +the more difficult it is to swallow it. You say you are going to ride +with Lady Maude presently; let that be your opportunity."</p> + +<p>And get it over! Words that sounded as emancipation in Val's ear. But +somehow he did not accomplish it in that ride. Excuses were on his lips +five hundred times, but his hesitating lips never formed them. He really +was on the point of speaking; at least he said so to himself; when Mr. +Hillary overtook them on horseback, and rode with them some distance. +After that, Maude put her horse to a canter, and so they reached home.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," answered Hartledon; "there was no opportunity."</p> + +<p>"My suggestion was to make your opportunity."</p> + +<p>"And so I will. I'll speak to her either to-night or to-morrow. She chose +to ride fast to-day; and Hillary joined us part of the way. Don't look as +if you doubted me, Carr: I shall be sure to speak."</p> + +<p>"Will he?" thought Thomas Carr, as he took his departure by the evening +train, having promised to run down the following Saturday for a few +hours. "It is an even bet, I think. Poor Val!"</p> + +<p>Poor Val indeed! Vacillating, attractive, handsome Val! shrinking, +sensitive Val! The nauseous medicine was never taken. And when the +Ashtons returned to the Rectory on the Friday night he had not spoken.</p> + +<p>And the very day of their return a rumour reached his ear that Mrs. +Ashton's health was seriously if not fatally shattered, and she was +departing immediately for the South of France.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>BETWEEN THE TWO.</h3> + + +<p>Not in the Rectory drawing-room, but in a pretty little sitting-room +attached to her bed-chamber, where the temperature was regulated, and no +draughts could penetrate, reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her invalid gown sat +loosely upon her shrunken form, her delicate, lace cap shaded a fading +face. Anne sat by her side in all her loveliness, ostensibly working; but +her fingers trembled, and her face looked flushed and pained.</p> + +<p>It was the morning after their return, and Mrs. Graves had called in to +see Mrs. Ashton—gossiping Mrs. Graves, who knew all that took place in +the parish, and a great deal of what never did take place. She had just +been telling it all unreservedly in her hard way; things that might be +said, and things that might as well have been left unsaid. She went out +leaving a whirr and a buzz behind her and an awful sickness of desolation +upon one heart.</p> + +<p>"Give me my little writing-case, Anne," said Mrs. Ashton, waking up from +a reverie and sitting forward on her sofa.</p> + +<p>Anne took the pretty toy from the side-table, opened it, and laid it on +the table before her mother.</p> + +<p>"Is it nothing I can write for you, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"No, child."</p> + +<p>Anne bent her hot face over her work again. It had not occurred to her +that it could concern herself; and Mrs. Ashton wrote a few rapid lines:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Percival</span>,</p> + +<p>"Can you spare me a five-minutes' visit? I wish to speak with you. We go +away again on Monday.</p> + +<p>"Ever sincerely yours,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Catherine Ashton</span>."</p></div> + +<p>She folded it, enclosed it in an envelope, and addressed it to the Earl +of Hartledon. Pushing away the writing-table, she held out the note to +her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Seal it for me, Anne. I am tired. Let it go at once."</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" exclaimed Anne, as her eye caught the address. "Surely you are +not writing to him! You are not asking him to come here?"</p> + +<p>"You see that I am writing to him, Anne. And it is to ask him to come +here. My dear, you may safely leave me to act according to my own +judgment. But as to what Mrs. Graves has said, I don't believe a word +of it."</p> + +<p>"I scarcely think I do," murmured Anne; a smile hovering on her troubled +countenance, like sunshine after rain.</p> + +<p>Anne had the taper alight, and the wax held to it, the note ready in her +hand, when the room-door was thrown open by Mrs. Ashton's maid.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>He came in in a hurried manner, talking fast, making too much fuss; it +was unlike his usual quiet movements, and Mrs. Ashton noticed it. As he +shook hands with her, she held the note before him.</p> + +<p>"See, Percival! I was writing to ask you to call upon me."</p> + +<p>Anne had put out the light, and her hand was in Lord Hartledon's before +she well knew anything, save that her heart was beating tumultuously. +Mrs. Ashton made a place for him on the sofa, and Anne quietly left the +room.</p> + +<p>"I should have been here earlier," he began, "but I had the steward with +me on business; it is little enough I have attended to since my brother's +death. Dear Mrs. Ashton! I grieve to hear this poor account of you. You +are indeed looking ill."</p> + +<p>"I am so ill, Percival, that I doubt whether I shall ever be better in +this world. It is my last chance, this going away to a warmer place until +winter has passed."</p> + +<p>He was bending towards her in earnest sympathy, all himself again; his +dark blue eyes very tender, his pleasant features full of concern as he +gazed on her face. And somehow, looking at that attractive countenance, +Mrs. Ashton's doubts went from her.</p> + +<p>"But what I have said is to you alone," she resumed. "My husband and +children do not see the worst, and I refrain from telling them. A little +word of confidence between us, Val."</p> + +<p>"I hope and trust you may come back cured!" he said, very fervently. "Is +it the fever that has so shattered you?"</p> + +<p>"It is the result of it. I have never since been able to recover +strength, but have become weaker and more weak. And you know I was +in ill health before. We leave on Monday morning for Cannes."</p> + +<p>"For Cannes?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A place not so warm as some I might have gone to; but the doctors +say that will be all the better. It is not heat I need; only shelter from +our cold northern winds until I can get a little strength into me. +There's nothing the matter with my lungs; indeed, I don't know that +anything is the matter with me except this terrible weakness."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Anne goes with you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. I could not go without Anne. The doctor will see us settled +there, and then he returns."</p> + +<p>A thought crossed Lord Hartledon: how pleasant if he and Anne could have +been married, and have made this their wedding tour. He did not speak it: +Mrs. Ashton would have laughed at his haste.</p> + +<p>"How long shall you remain away?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I cannot tell you. I may not live to return. If all goes well—that +is, if there should be a speedy change for the better, as the medical men +who have been attending me think there may be—I shall be back perhaps in +April or May. Val—I cannot forget the old familiar name, you see—"</p> + +<p>"I hope you never will forget it," he warmly interposed.</p> + +<p>"I wanted very particularly to see you. A strange report was brought +here this morning and I determined to mention it to you. You know what +an old-fashioned, direct way I have of doing things; never choosing a +roundabout road if I can take a straight one. This note was a line asking +you to call upon me," she added, taking it from her lap, where it had +been lying, and tossing it on to the table, whilst her hearer, his +conscience rising up, began to feel a very little uncomfortable. "We +heard you had proposed marriage to Lady Maude Kirton."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon's face became crimson. "Who on earth could have invented +that?" cried he, having no better answer at hand.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Graves mentioned it to me. She was dining at Hartledon last week, +and the countess-dowager spoke about it openly."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ashton looked at him; and he, confused and taken aback, looked down +on the carpet, devoutly wishing himself in the remote regions he had +spoken of to Mr. Carr. Anywhere, so that he should never be seen or +recognized again.</p> + +<p>"What am I to do?" thought he. "I wish Mother Graves was hanged!"</p> + +<p>"You do not speak, Percival!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I—I was wondering what could have given rise to this," he +stammered. "I believe the old dowager would like to see her daughter +mistress of Hartledon: and suppose she gave utterance to her thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Very strange that she should!" observed Mrs. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"I think she's a little cracked sometimes," coughed Val; and, in truth, +he now and then did think so. "I hope you have not told Anne?"</p> + +<p>"I have told no one. And had I not felt sure it had no foundation, I +should have told the doctor, not you. But Anne was in the room when Mrs. +Graves mentioned it."</p> + +<p>"What a blessing it would be if Mrs. Graves were out of the parish!" +exclaimed Val, hotly. "I wonder Dr. Ashton keeps Graves on, with such a +mother! No one ever had such a mischief-making tongue as hers."</p> + +<p>"Percival, may I say something to you?" asked Mrs. Ashton, who was +devouring him with her eyes. "Your manner would almost lead me to believe +that there <i>is</i> something in it. Tell me the truth; I can never be +anything but your friend."</p> + +<p>"Believe one thing, dear Mrs. Ashton—that I have no intention of +marrying anyone but Anne; and I wish with all my heart and soul you'd +give her to me to-day. Shut up with those two women, the one pretty, the +other watching any chance word to turn it to her own use, I dare say the +Mrs. Graveses of the place have talked, forgetting that Maude is my +cousin. I believe I paid some attention to Maude because I was angry +at being kept out of the Rectory; but my attentions meant nothing, upon +my honour."</p> + +<p>"Elster's folly, Val! Lady Maude may have thought they did."</p> + +<p>"At any rate she knew of my engagement to Anne."</p> + +<p>"Then there is nothing in it?"</p> + +<p>"There shall be nothing in it," was the emphatic answer. "Anne was my +first love, and she will be my last. You must promise to give her to me +as soon as you return from Cannes."</p> + +<p>"About that you must ask her father. I dare say he will do so."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon rose from his seat; held Mrs. Ashton's hand between his +whilst he said his adieu, and stooped to kiss her with a son's affection. +She was a little surprised to find it was his final farewell. They were +not going to start until Monday. But Hartledon could not have risked that +cross-questioning again; rather would he have sailed away for the savage +territories at once. He went downstairs searching for Anne, and found her +in the room where you first saw her—her own. She looked up with quite an +affectation of surprise when he entered, although she had probably gone +there to await him. The best of girls are human.</p> + +<p>"You ran away, Anne, whilst mamma and I held our conference?"</p> + +<p>"I hope it has been satisfactory," she answered demurely, not looking up, +and wondering whether he suspected how violently her heart was beating.</p> + +<p>"Partly so. The end was all right. Shall I tell it you?"</p> + +<p>"The end! Yes, if you will," she replied unsuspectingly.</p> + +<p>"The decision come to is, that a certain young friend of ours is to be +converted, with as little delay as circumstances may permit, into Lady +Hartledon."</p> + +<p>Of course there came no answer except a succession of blushes. Anne's +work, which she had carried with her, took all her attention just then.</p> + +<p>"Can you guess her name, Anne?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Is it Maude Kirton?"</p> + +<p>He winced. "If you have been told that abominable rubbish, Anne, it is +not necessary to repeat it. It's not so pleasant a theme that you need +make a joke of it."</p> + +<p>"Is it rubbish?" asked Anne, lifting her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to know that if any one does. But had anything +happened, Anne, recollect it would have been your fault. You have been +very cool to me of late. You forbid me the house for weeks and weeks; you +went away for an indefinite period without letting me know, or giving me +the chance of seeing you; and when the correspondence was at length +renewed, your letters were cold and formal—quite different from what +they used to be. It almost looks as if you wished to part from me."</p> + +<p>Repentance was stealing over her: why had she ever doubted him?</p> + +<p>"And now you are going away again! And although this interview may be +our last for months, you scarcely deign to give me a word or a look of +farewell."</p> + +<p>Anne had already been terribly tried by Mrs. Graves: this was the climax: +she lost her self-control and burst into tears. Lord Hartledon was +softened at once. He took her two hands in his; he clasped her to his +heart, half devouring her face with passionate kisses. Ah, Lady Maude! +this impassioned love was never felt for you.</p> + +<p>"You don't love her?" whispered Anne.</p> + +<p>"Love her! I never loved but you, my best and dearest. I never shall, or +can, love another."</p> + +<p>He spoke in all good faith; fully believing what he said; and it was +indeed true. And Anne? As though a prevision had been upon her of the +future, she remained passively in his arms sobbing hysterically, and +suffering his kisses; not drawing away from him in maiden modesty, as +was her wont. She had never clung to him like this.</p> + +<p>"You will write to me often?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Won't you come to Cannes?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it will be possible, unless you remain beyond the +spring. And should that be the case, Anne, I shall pray your father and +mother that the marriage may take place there. I am going up to town next +month to take my seat in the House. It will be a busy session; and I want +to see if I can't become a useful public man. I think it would please the +doctor to find I've some stuff in me; and a man must have a laudable +object in life."</p> + +<p>"I would rather die," murmured Anne, passionately in her turn, "than hear +again what Mrs. Graves said."</p> + +<p>"My darling, we cannot stop people's gossip. Believe in me; I will not +fail you. Oh, Anne, I wish you were already my wife!" he aspirated +fervently, his perplexities again presenting themselves to his mind.</p> + +<p>"The time will come," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon walked home full of loyal thought, saying to himself what +an utter idiot he had been in regard to Maude, and determined to lose no +time in getting clear of the entanglement. He sought an opportunity of +speaking to her that afternoon; he really did; but could not find it. The +dowager had taken her out to pay a visit.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr was as good as his word, and got down in time for dinner. One +glance at Lord Hartledon's face told him what he half expected to +see—that the word of emancipation had not yet been spoken.</p> + +<p>"Don't blame me, Carr. I shall speak to-night before I sleep, on my word +of honour. Things have come to a crisis now; and if I wished to hold back +I could not. I would say what a fool I have been not to speak before; +only you know I'm one already."</p> + +<p>Thomas Carr laughed.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ashton has heard some tattle about Maude, and spoke to me this +afternoon. Of course I could only deny it, my face feeling on fire with +its sense of dishonour, for I don't think I ever told a deliberate lie in +my life; and—and, in short, I should like my marriage with Anne to take +place as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's only one course to pursue, as I told you when I was down +before. Tell Lady Maude the candid truth, and take shame and blame to +yourself, as you deserve. Her having known of the engagement to Miss +Ashton renders your task the easier."</p> + +<p>Very restless was Lord Hartledon until the moment came. He knew the best +time to speak to Maude would be immediately after dinner, whilst the +countess-dowager took her usual nap. There was no hesitation now; and he +speedily followed them upstairs, leaving his friend at the dinner-table.</p> + +<p>He went up, feeling a desperate man. To those of his temperament having +to make a disagreeable communication such as this is almost as cruel as +parting with life.</p> + +<p>No one was in the drawing-room but Lady Kirton—stretched upon a sofa and +apparently fast asleep. Val crossed the carpet with softened tread to the +adjoining rooms: small, comfortable rooms, used by the dowager in +preference to the more stately rooms below. Maude had drawn aside the +curtain and was peering out into the frosty night.</p> + +<p>"Why, how soon you are up!" she cried, turning at his entrance.</p> + +<p>"I came on purpose, Maude. I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Are you well?" she asked, coming forward to the fire, and taking her +seat on a sofa. In truth, he did not look very well just then. "What is +it?"</p> + +<p>"Maude," he answered, his fair face flushing a dark red as he plunged +into it blindfold: "I am a rogue and a fool!"</p> + +<p>Lady Maude laughed. "Elster's folly!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know all this time that we—that I—" (Val thought he should +never flounder through this first moment, and did not remain an instant +in one place as he talked)—"have been going on so foolishly, I +was—almost as good as a married man."</p> + +<p>"Were you?" said she, quietly. "Married to whom?"</p> + +<p>"I said as good as married, Maude. You know I have been engaged for years +to Miss Ashton; otherwise I would have <i>knelt</i> to ask you to become my +wife, so earnestly should I desire it."</p> + +<p>Her calm imperturbability presented a curious contrast to his agitation. +She was regarding him with an amused smile.</p> + +<p>"And, Maude, I have come now to ask you to release me. Indeed, I—"</p> + +<p>"What's all this about?" broke in the countess-dowager, darting upon +the conference, her face flushed and her head-dress awry. "Are you two +quarrelling?"</p> + +<p>"Val was attempting to explain something about Miss Ashton," answered +Maude, rising from the sofa, and drawing herself up to her stately +height. "He had better do it to you instead, mamma; I don't understand +it."</p> + +<p>She stood up by the mantelpiece, in the ray of the lustres. They fell +across her dark, smooth hair, her flushed cheeks, her exquisite features. +Her dress was of flowing white crêpe, with jet ornaments; and Lord +Hartledon, even in the midst of his perplexity, thought how beautiful she +was, and what a sad thing it was to lose her. The truth was, his senses +had been caught by the girl's beauty although his heart was elsewhere. +It is a very common case.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, ma'am," he stammered, turning to the dowager in his +desperation, "I have been behaving very foolishly of late, and am asking +your daughter's pardon. I should have remembered my engagement to Miss +Ashton."</p> + +<p>"Remembered your engagement to Miss Ashton!" echoed the dowager, her +voice becoming a little shrill. "What engagement?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon began to recover himself, though he looked foolish still. +With these nervous men it is the first plunge that tells; get that over +and they are brave as their fellows.</p> + +<p>"I cannot marry two women, Lady Kirton, and I am bound to Anne."</p> + +<p>The old dowager's voice toned down, and she pulled her black feathers +straight upon her head.</p> + +<p>"My dear Hartledon, I don't think you know what you are talking about. +You engaged yourself to Maude some weeks ago."</p> + +<p>"Well—but—whatever may have passed, engagement or no engagement, I +could not legally do it," returned the unhappy young man, too considerate +to say the engagement was hers, not his. "You knew I was bound to Anne, +Lady Kirton."</p> + +<p>"Bound to a fiddlestick!" said the dowager. "Excuse my plainness, +Hartledon. When you engaged yourself to the young woman you were poor and +a nobody, and the step was perhaps excusable. Lord Hartledon is not bound +by the promises of Val Elster. All the young women in the kingdom, who +have parsons for fathers, could not oblige him to be so."</p> + +<p>"I am bound to her in honour; and"—in love he was going to say, but let +the words die away unspoken.</p> + +<p>"Hartledon, you are bound in honour to my daughter; you have sought her +affections, and gained them. Ah, Percival, don't you know that it is you +she has loved all along? In the days when I was worrying her about your +brother, she cared only for you. You cannot be so infamous as to desert +her."</p> + +<p>"I wish to Heaven she had never seen me!" cried the unfortunate man, +beginning to wonder whether he could break through these trammels. "I'd +sacrifice myself willingly, if that would put things straight."</p> + +<p>"You cannot sacrifice Maude. Look at her!" and the crafty old dowager +flourished her hand towards the fireplace, where Maude stood in all her +beauty. "A daughter of the house of Kirton cannot be taken up and cast +aside at will. What would the world say of her?"</p> + +<p>"The world need never know."</p> + +<p>"Not know!" shrieked the dowager; "not know! Why, her trousseau is +ordered, and some of the things have arrived. Good Heavens, Hartledon, +you dare not trifle with Maude in this way. You could never show your +face amongst men again."</p> + +<p>"But neither dare I trifle with Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon, +completely broken down by the gratuitous information. He saw that the +situation was worse than even he had bargained for, and all his +irresolution began to return upon him. "If I knew what was right +to be done, I'm sure I'd do it."</p> + +<p>"Right, did you say? Right? There cannot be a question about that. Which +is the more fitting to grace your coronet: Maude, or a country parson's +daughter?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure if this goes on I shall shoot myself," cried Val. "Taken to +task at the Rectory, taken to task here—shooting would be bliss to it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," returned the dowager. "It can't be a very pleasant position +for you. Any one but you would get out of it, and set the matter at +rest."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know how."</p> + +<p>"So long as you are a single man they naturally remain on the high ropes +at the Rectory, with their fine visions for Anne—"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would understand once for all, Lady Kirton, that the Ashtons +are our equals in every way," he interrupted: "and," he added, "in worth +and goodness infinitely our superiors."</p> + +<p>The dowager gave a sniff. "You think so, I know, Hart. Well, the only +plan to bring you peace is this: make Maude your wife. At once; without +delay."</p> + +<p>The proposition took away Val's breath. "I could not do it, Lady Kirton. +To begin with, they'd bring an action against me for breach of promise."</p> + +<p>"Breach of nonsense!" wrathfully returned the dowager. "Was ever such +a thing heard of yet, as a doctor of divinity bringing an action of that +nature? He'd lose his gown."</p> + +<p>"I wish I was at the bottom of a deep well, never to come up again!" +mentally aspirated the unfortunate man.</p> + +<p>"Will—you—marry—Maude?" demanded the dowager, with a fixed +denunciation in every word, which was as so much slow torture to her +victim.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could. You must see for yourself, Lady Kirton, that I cannot. +Maude must see it."</p> + +<p>"I see nothing of the sort. You are bound to her in honour."</p> + +<p>"All I can do is to remain single to the end of my days," said Val, after +a pause. "I have been a great villain to both, and I cannot repair it to +either. The one stands in the way of the other."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he interrupted, so peremptorily that the old +woman trembled for her power. "This is my final decision, and I will not +hear another word. I feel ready to hang myself, as it is. You tell me I +cannot marry any other than Maude without being a scoundrel; the same +thing precisely applies to Anne. I shall remain single."</p> + +<p>"You will give me one promise—for Maude's sake. Not, after this, to +marry Anne Ashton."</p> + +<p>"Why, how can I do it?" asked he, in tones of exasperation. "Don't you +see that it is impossible? I shall not see the Ashtons again, ma'am; I +would rather go a hundred miles the other way than face them."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager probably deemed she had said sufficient for safety; +for she went out and shut the door after her. Lord Hartledon dashed his +hair from his brow with a hasty hand, and was about to leave the room by +the other door, when Maude came up to him.</p> + +<p>"Is this to be the end of it, Percival?"</p> + +<p>She spoke in tones of pain, of tremulous tenderness; all her pride gone +out of her. Lord Hartledon laid his hand upon her shoulder, meeting the +dark eyes that were raised to his through tears.</p> + +<p>"Do you indeed love me like this, Maude? Somehow I never thought it."</p> + +<p>"I love you better than the whole world. I love you enough to give up +everything for you."</p> + +<p>The emphasis conveyed a reproach—that he did not "give up everything" +for her. But Lord Hartledon kept his head for once.</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows my bitter repentance. If I could repair this folly of mine +by any sacrifice on my own part, I would gladly do it. Let me go, Maude! +I have been here long enough, unless I were more worthy. I would ask you +to forgive me if I knew how to frame the petition."</p> + +<p>She released the hand of which she had made a prisoner—released it with +a movement of petulance; and Lord Hartledon quitted the room, the words +she had just spoken beating their refrain on his brain. It did not occur +to him in his gratified vanity to remember that Anne Ashton, about whose +love there could be no doubt, never avowed it in those pretty speeches.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mr. Carr, when he got back to the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"It is not well, Carr; it is ill. There can be no release. The old +dowager won't have it."</p> + +<p>"But surely you will not resign Miss Ashton for Lady Maude!" cried the +barrister, after a pause of amazement.</p> + +<p>"I resign both; I see that I cannot do anything else in honour. Excuse +me, Carr, but I'd rather not say any more about it just now; I feel half +maddened."</p> + +<p>"Elster's folly," mentally spoke Thomas Carr.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>AN AGREEABLE WEDDING.</h3> + + +<p>That circumstances, combined with the countess-dowager, worked terribly +against Lord Hartledon, events proved. Had the Ashtons remained at the +Rectory all might have been well; but they went away, and he was left to +any influence that might be brought to bear upon him.</p> + +<p>How the climax was accomplished the world never knew. Lord Hartledon +himself did not know the whole of it for a long while. As if unwilling to +trust himself longer in dangerous companionship, he went up to town with +Thomas Carr. Whilst there he received a letter from Cannes, written by +Dr. Ashton; a letter that angered him.</p> + +<p>It was a cool letter, a vein of contemptuous anger running through it; +meant to be hidden, but nevertheless perceptible to Lord Hartledon. Its +purport was to forbid all correspondence between him and Miss Ashton: +things had better "remain in abeyance" until they met, ran the words, +"if indeed any relations were ever renewed between them again."</p> + +<p>It might have angered Lord Hartledon more than it did, but for the +hopelessness which had taken up its abode within him. Nevertheless he +resented it. He did not suppose it possible that the Ashtons could have +heard of the dilemma he was in, or that he should be unable to fulfil his +engagement with Anne, having with his usual vacillation put off any +explanation with them; which of course must come sometime. He had taken +an idea into his head long before, that Dr. Ashton wished to part them, +and he looked upon the letter as resulting from that. Hartledon was +feeling weary of the world.</p> + +<p>How little did he divine that the letter of the doctor was called forth +by a communication from the countess-dowager. An artful communication, +with a charming candour lying on its surface. She asked—she actually +asked that Dr. Ashton would allow "fair play;" she said the "deepest +affection" had grown up between Lord Hartledon and Lady Maude; and she +only craved that the young man might not be coerced either way, but might +be allowed to choose between them. The field after Miss Ashton's return +would be open to the two, and ought to be left so.</p> + +<p>You may imagine the effect this missive produced upon the proud, +high-minded doctor of divinity. He took a sheet of paper and wrote a +stinging letter to Lord Hartledon, forbidding him to think again of Anne. +But when he was in the act of sealing it a sudden doubt like an instinct +rushed over him, whether it might not be a ruse, and nothing else, of the +crafty old dowager's. The doubt was sufficiently strong to cause him to +tear up the letter. But he was not satisfied with Lord Hartledon's own +behaviour; had not been for some few months; and he then wrote a second +letter, suspending matters until they should meet again. It was in effect +what was asked for by the countess-dowager; and he wrote a cold proud +letter to that lady, stating what he had done. Of course any honourable +woman—any woman with a spark of justice in her heart—would have also +forbidden all intercourse with Lady Maude. The countess-dowager's policy +lay in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>But Lord Hartledon remained in London, utterly oblivious to the hints and +baits held out for his return to Calne. He chiefly divided his time +between the House of Lords and sitting at home, lamenting over his own +ill-starred existence. He was living quite en garçon, with only one man, +his house having been let for the season. We always want what we cannot +obtain, and because marriage was denied him, he fell into the habit of +dwelling upon it as the only boon in life. Thomas Carr was on circuit, +so that Hartledon was alone.</p> + +<p>Easter was early that year, the latter end of March. On the Monday in +Passion-week there arrived a telegram for Lord Hartledon sent apparently +by the butler, Hedges. It was vaguely worded; spoke of a railway accident +and somebody dying. Who he could not make out, except that it was a +Kirton: and it prayed him to hasten down immediately. All his goodness of +heart aroused, Val lost not a moment. He had been engaged to spend Easter +with some people in Essex, but dispatched a line of apology, and hastened +down to Calne, wondering whether it was the dowager or Maude, and whether +death would have taken place before his arrival.</p> + +<p>"What accident has there been?" he demanded, leaping out of the carriage +at Calne Station; and the man he addressed happened to be the porter, +Jones.</p> + +<p>"Accident?" returned Jones, touching his cap.</p> + +<p>"An accident on the line; somewhere about here, I conclude. People +wounded; dying."</p> + +<p>"There has been no accident here," said Jones, in his sulky way. "Maybe +your lordship's thinking of the one on the branch line, the bridge that +fell in?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Lord Hartledon, "that took place a fortnight ago. I +received a telegram this morning from my butler, saying some one was +dying at Hartledon from a railway accident," he impatiently added. "I +took it to be either Lady Kirton or her daughter."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones swung round a large iron key he held in his hand, and light +dawned upon him.</p> + +<p>"I know now," he said. "There was a private accident at the station here +last night; your lordship must mean that. A gentleman got out of a +carriage before it stopped, and fell between the rail and the platform. +His name was Kirton. I saw it on his portmanteau."</p> + +<p>"Lord Kirton?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord. Captain Kirton."</p> + +<p>"Was he seriously hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it was thought so. Mr. Hillary feared the leg would have to come +off. He was carried to Hartledon."</p> + +<p>Very much relieved, Lord Hartledon jumped into a fly and was driven home. +The countess-dowager embraced him and fell into hysterics.</p> + +<p>The crafty old dowager, whose displayed emotion was as genuine as she +was! She had sent for this son of hers, hoping he might be a decoy-duck +to draw Hartledon home again, for she was losing heart; and the accident, +which she had not bargained for, was a very god-send to her.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you word your telegrams more clearly, Hedges?" asked Lord +Hartledon of his butler.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't me worded it at all, my lord. Lady Kirton went to the station +herself. She informed me she had sent it in my name."</p> + +<p>"Has Hillary told you privately what the surgeons think of the case?"</p> + +<p>"Better of it than they did at first, my lord. They are trying to save +the leg."</p> + +<p>This Captain Kirton was really the best of the Kirton bunch: a quiet, +unassuming young man, somewhat delicate in health. Lord Hartledon was +grieved for his accident, and helped to nurse him with the best heart +in the world.</p> + +<p>And now what devilry (there were people in Calne who called it nothing +less) the old countess-dowager set afloat to secure her ends I am unable +to tell you. She was a perfectly unscrupulous woman—poverty had rendered +her wits keen; and her captured lion was only feebly struggling to escape +from the net. He was to blame also. Thrown again into the society of +Maude and her beauty, Val basked in its sunshine, and went drifting down +the stream, never heeding where the current led him. One day the +countess-dowager put it upon his honour—he must marry Maude. He might +have held out longer but for a letter that came from some friend of the +dowager's opportunely located at Cannes; a letter that spoke of the +approaching marriage of Miss Ashton to Colonel Barnaby, eldest son of a +wealthy old baronet, who was sojourning there with his mother. No doubt +was implied or expressed; the marriage was set forth as an assured fact.</p> + +<p>"And I believe you meant to wait for her?" said the countess-dowager, as +she put the letter into his hand, with a little laugh. "You are free now +for my darling Maude."</p> + +<p>"This may not be true," observed Lord Hartledon, with compressed lips. +"Every one knows what this sort of gossip is worth."</p> + +<p>"I happen to know that it is true," spoke Lady Kirton, in a whisper. "I +have known of it for some time past, but would not vex you with it."</p> + +<p>Well, she convinced him; and from that moment had it all her own way, and +carried out her plots and plans according to her own crafty fancy. Lord +Hartledon yielded; for the ascendency of Maude was strong upon him. And +yet—and yet—whilst he gave all sorts of hard names to Anne Ashton's +perfidy, lying down deep in his heart was a suspicion that the news was +not true. How he hated himself for his wicked assumption of belief in +after-years!</p> + +<p>"You will be free as air," said the dowager, joyously. "You and Maude +shall get ahead of Miss Ashton and her colonel, and have the laugh at +them. The marriage shall be on Saturday, and you can go away together for +months if you like, and get up your spirits again; I'm sure you have both +been dull enough."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was certainly caught by the words "free as air;" as he had +been once before. But he stared at the early day mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Marriages can't be got up as soon as that."</p> + +<p>"They can be got up in a day if people choose, with a special license; +which, of course, you will have," said the dowager. "I'll arrange things, +my dear Val; leave it all to me. I intend Maude to be married in the +little chapel."</p> + +<p>"What little chapel?"</p> + +<p>"Your own private chapel."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon stared with all his eyes. The private chapel, built out +from the house on the side next Calne, had not been used for years and +years.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's all dust and rust inside; its cushions moth-eaten and fallen +to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Is it all dust and rust!" returned the dowager. "That shows how +observant you are. I had it put in order whilst you were in London; it +was a shame to let a sacred place remain in such a state. I should like +it to be used for Maude; and mind, I'll see to everything; you need not +give yourself any trouble at all. There's only one thing I must enjoin +on you."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Secrecy.</i> Don't let a hint of your intentions get abroad. Whatever you +do, don't write a word to that Carr friend of yours; he's as sharp as a +two-edged sword. As well let things be done privately; it is Maude's +wish."</p> + +<p>"I shall not write to him," cried Hartledon, feeling a sudden heat upon +his face, "or to any one else."</p> + +<p>"Here's Maude. Step this way, Maude. Hartledon wants the ceremony to take +place on Saturday, and I have promised for you."</p> + +<p>Lady Maude advanced; she had really come in by accident; her head was +bent, her eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks. A fair prize; very, +very fair! The old dowager put her hand into Lord Hartledon's.</p> + +<p>"You will love her and cherish her, Percival?"</p> + +<p>What was the young man to do? He murmured some unintelligible assent, and +bent forward to kiss her. But not until that moment had he positively +realized the fact that there would be any marriage.</p> + +<p>Time went on swimmingly until the Saturday, and everything was in +progress. The old dowager deserved to be made commander of a garrison for +her comprehensive strategy, the readiness and skill she displayed in +carrying out her arrangements. For what reason, perhaps she could not +have explained to herself; but an instinct was upon her that secrecy in +all ways was necessary; at any rate, she felt surer of success whilst +it was maintained. Hence her decision in regard to the unused little +chapel; and that this one particular portion of the project had been long +floating in her mind was proved by the fact that she had previously +caused the chapel to be renovated. But that it was to serve her own turn, +she would have let it remain choked up with dust for ever.</p> + +<p>The special license had arrived; the young clergyman who was to perform +the service was located at Hartledon. Seven o'clock was the hour fixed +for the marriage: it would be twilight then, and dinner over. Immediately +afterwards the bride and bridegroom were to depart. So far, so good. But +Lady Kirton was not to have it quite her own way on this same Saturday, +although she had enjoyed it hitherto.</p> + +<p>A rumour reached her ears in the afternoon that Dr. Ashton was at the +Rectory. The doctor had been spending Easter at Cannes, and the dowager +had devoutly prayed that he might not yet return. The news turned her +cheeks blue and yellow; a prevision rushing over her that if he and Lord +Hartledon met there might be no wedding after all. She did her best to +keep Lord Hartledon indoors, and the fact of the Rector's return from +him.</p> + +<p>Now who is going to defend Lord Hartledon? Not you or I. More foolish, +more culpable weakness was never shown than in thus yielding to these +schemes. Though ensnared by Maude's beauty, that was no excuse for him.</p> + +<p>An accident—or what may be called one—delayed dinner. Two county +friends of Hartledon's, jolly fox-hunters in the season, had come riding +a long way across country, and looked in to beg some refreshment. The +dowager fumed, and was not decently civil; but she did not see her way to +turning them out.</p> + +<p>They talked and laughed and ate; and dinner was indefinitely prolonged. +When the dowager and Lady Maude rose from table the former cast a meaning +look at Lord Hartledon. "Get rid of them as soon as you can," it plainly +said.</p> + +<p>But the fox-hunters liked good drinking as well as good eating, and sat +on, enjoying their wine; their host, one of the most courteous of living +men, giving no sign, by word or look, that he wished for their departure. +He was rather silent, they observed; but the young clergyman, who made +the fourth at the table, was voluble by nature. Captain Kirton had not +yet left his sick bed.</p> + +<p>Lady Maude sat alone in her room; the white robes upon her, the orthodox +veil, meant to shade her fair face thrown back from it. She had sent away +her attendants, bolted the door against her mother, and sat waiting her +summons. Waiting and thinking. Her cheek rested on her hand, and her +eyes were dreamy.</p> + +<p>Is it true that whenever we are about to do an ill or unjust deed a +shadow of the fruits it will bring comes over us as a warning? Some +people will tell you so. A vision of the future seemed to rest on Maude +Kirton as she sat there; and for the first time all the injustice of the +approaching act rose in her mind as a solemn omen. The true facts were +terribly distinct. Her own dislike (it was indeed no less than dislike) +of the living lord, her lasting love for the dead one. All the miserable +stratagems they had been guilty of to win him; the dishonest plotting and +planning. What was she about to do? For her own advancement, to secure +herself a position in the great world, and not for love, she was about to +separate two hearts, which but for her would have been united in this +world and the next. She was thrusting herself upon Lord Hartledon, +knowing that in his true heart it was another that he loved, not her. +Yes, she knew that full well. He admired her beauty, and was marrying +her; marrying partly in pique against Anne Ashton; partly in blindfold +submission to the deep schemes of her mother, brought to bear on his +yielding nature. All the injustice done to Anne Ashton was in that moment +beating its refrain upon her heart; and a thought crossed her—would God +not avenge it? Another time she might have smiled at the thought as +fanciful: it seemed awfully real now. "I might give Val up yet," she +murmured; "there's just time."</p> + +<p>She did not act upon the suggestion. Whether it was her warning, or +whether it was not, she allowed it to slip from her. Hartledon's broad +lands and coronet resumed their fascination over her soul; and when her +door was tried, Lady Maude had lost herself in that famous Spanish +château we have all occupied on occasion, touching the alterations she +had mentally planned in their town-house.</p> + +<p>"Goodness, Maude, what do you lock yourself in for?"</p> + +<p>Maude opened the door, and the countess-dowager floundered in. She was +resplendent in one of her old yellow satin gowns, a white turban with a +silver feather, and a pink scarf thrown on for ornament. The colours +would no doubt blend well by candlelight.</p> + +<p>"Come, Maude. There's no time to be lost."</p> + +<p>"Are the men gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are gone; no thanks to Hartledon, though. He sat mooning on, +never giving them the least hint to depart. Priddon told me so. I'll tell +you what it is, Maude, you'll have to shake your husband out of no end of +ridiculous habits."</p> + +<p>"It is growing dark," exclaimed Maude, as she stepped into the corridor.</p> + +<p>"Dark! of course it's dark," was the irascible answer; "and they have had +to light up the chapel, or Priddon couldn't have seen to read his book. +And all through those confounded fox-hunters!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was not in the drawing-room, where Lady Kirton had left +him only a minute before; and she looked round sharply.</p> + +<p>"Has he gone on to the chapel?" she asked of the young clergyman.</p> + +<p>"No, I think not," replied Mr. Priddon, who was already in his +canonicals. "Hedges came in and said something to him, and they went out +together."</p> + +<p>A minute or two of impatience—she was in no mood to wait long—and then +she rang the bell. It should be remarked that the old lady, either from +excitement or some apprehension of failure, was shaking and jumping as if +she had St. Vitus's dance. Hedges came in.</p> + +<p>"Where's your master?" she tartly asked.</p> + +<p>"With Mr. Carr, my lady."</p> + +<p>"With Mr.—What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"My lord is with Mr. Carr. He has just arrived."</p> + +<p>A moment given to startled consternation and then the fury broke forth. +The young parson had never had the pleasure of seeing one of these +war-dances before, and backed against the wall in his starched surplice.</p> + +<p>"What brings him here? How dare he come uninvited?"</p> + +<p>"I heard him say, my lady, that finding he had a Sunday to spare, he +thought he would come and pass it at Hartledon," said the well-trained +Hedges.</p> + +<p>Ere the words had left his lips Lord Hartledon and Mr. Carr were present; +the latter in a state of utter amazement and in his travelling dress, +having only removed his overcoat.</p> + +<p>"You'll be my groomsman, Carr," said Hartledon. "We have no adherents; +this is a strictly private affair."</p> + +<p>"Did you send for Mr. Carr?" whispered the countess-dowager, looking +white through her rouge.</p> + +<p>"No; his coming has taken me by surprise," replied Hartledon, with a +nervousness he could not wholly conceal.</p> + +<p>They passed rapidly through the passages, marshalled by Hedges. Lord +Hartledon led his bride, the countess-dowager walked with the clergyman, +and Mr. Carr brought up the rear. The latter gentleman was wondering +whether he had fallen into a dream that he should wake up from in the +morning. The mode of procession was a little out of the common order of +such affairs; but so was the marriage.</p> + +<p>Now it happened, not very long before this, that Dr. Ashton was on his +way home from a visit to a sick parishioner—a poor man, who said he +believed life had been prolonged in him that his many years' minister +should be at his deathbed. Dr. Ashton's road lay beyond Hartledon, and +in returning he crossed the road, which brought him out near the river, +between Hartledon and the Rectory. Happening to cast his eyes that way, +he saw a light where he had never seen one before—in the little unused +chapel. Peering through the trees at the two low diamond-paned windows, +to make sure he was not mistaken, Dr. Ashton quickened his pace: his +thoughts glancing at fire.</p> + +<p>He was well acquainted with Hartledon; and making his way in by the +nearest entrance, he dashed along the passages to the chapel, meeting at +length one of the servants.</p> + +<p>"John," he panted, quite out of breath with hurrying, "there's a light in +the chapel. I fear it is on fire."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir," replied the man. "We have been lighting it up for my +lord's marriage. They have just gone in."</p> + +<p>"Lighting it up for what?" exclaimed Dr. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"For my lord's marriage, sir. He's marrying Lady Maude. It's the old +dowager, sir, who has got it up in this queer way," continued the man, +venturing on a little confidential gossip with his Rector.</p> + +<p>Dr. Ashton paused to collect his wits ere he walked into the chapel. The +few wax-candles the servants had been able to put about only served to +make the gloom visible. The party were taking their places, the young +clergyman directing them where to stand. He opened his book and was +commencing, when a hand was laid upon Hartledon's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon, what is the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon recognised the voice, and broke into a cold perspiration. +He gave no answer; but the countess-dowager made up for his silence. Her +temper, none of the mildest, had been considerably exasperated by the +visit of the fox-hunters; it was made worse by the arrival of Mr. Carr. +When she turned and saw what <i>this</i> formidable interruption was, she lost +it altogether, as few, calling themselves gentlewomen, can lose it. As +she peered into the face of Dr. Ashton, her own was scarlet and yellow, +and her voice rose to a shriek.</p> + +<p>"You prying parson, where did you spring from? Are you not ashamed +to dodge Lord Hartledon in his own house? You might be taken up and +imprisoned for it."</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon," said Dr. Ashton, "I—"</p> + +<p>"How dare you persist, I ask you?" shrieked the old woman, whilst +the young clergyman stood aghast, and Mr. Carr folded his arms, and +resolutely fixed his eyes on the floor. "Because Hartledon once had a +flirtation with your daughter, does that give you leave to haunt him as +if you were his double?"</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Dr. Ashton, contriving still to subdue his anger, "I must, +I will speak to Lord Hartledon. Allow me to do so without disturbance. +Lord Hartledon, I wait for an answer: Are you about to marry this young +lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is," foamed the dowager; "I tell you so. Now then?"</p> + +<p>"Then, madam," proceeded the doctor, "this marriage owes its rise to you. +You will do well to consider whether you are doing them a kindness or an +injury in permitting it. You have deliberately set yourself to frustrate +the hopes of Lord Hartledon and my daughter: will a marriage, thus +treacherously entered into, bring happiness with it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you wicked man!" cried the dowager. "You would like to call a curse +upon them."</p> + +<p>"No," shuddered Dr. Ashton; "if a curse ever attends them, it will not +be through any wish of mine. Lord Hartledon, I knew you as a boy; I have +loved you as a son; and if I speak now, it is as your pastor, and for +your own sake. This marriage looks very like a clandestine one, as though +you were ashamed of the step you are taking, and dared not enter on it in +the clear face of day. I would have you consider that this sort of +proceeding does not usually bring a blessing with it."</p> + +<p>If ever Val felt convicted of utter cowardice, he felt so then. All the +wretched sophistry by which he had been beguiled into the step, by which +he had beguiled himself; all the iniquity of his past conduct to Miss +Ashton, rose up before his mind in its naked truth. He dared not reply to +the doctor for very shame. A sorry figure he cut, standing there, Lady +Maude beside him.</p> + +<p>"The last time you entered my house, Lord Hartledon, it was to speak of +your coming marriage with Anne—"</p> + +<p>"And you would like him to go there again and arrange it," interrupted +the incensed dowager, whose head had begun to nod so vehemently that she +could not stop it. "Oh yes, I dare say!"</p> + +<p>"By what right have you thus trifled with her?" continued the Rector, +ignoring the nodding woman and her words, and confronting Lord Hartledon. +"Is it a light matter, think you, to gain a maiden's best love, and then +to desert her for a fresh face? You have been playing fast-and-loose for +some little time: and I gave you more than one opportunity of retiring, +if you so willed it—of openly retiring, you understand; not of doing so +in this secret, disreputable manner. Your conscience will prick you in +after-life, unless I am mistaken."</p> + +<p>Val opened his lips, but the Rector put up his hand.</p> + +<p>"A moment yet. That I am not endeavouring to recall Anne's claims on you +in saying this, I am sure you are perfectly aware, knowing me as you do. +I never deemed you worthy of her—you know that, Lord Hartledon; and you +never were so. Were you a free man at this moment, and went down on your +knees to implore me to give you Anne, I would not do it. You have +forfeited her; you have forfeited the esteem of all good men. But that +I am a Christian minister, I should visit your dishonour upon you as you +deserve."</p> + +<p>"Will you cease?" raved the dowager; and Dr. Ashton wheeled round upon +her.</p> + +<p>"There is less excuse for your past conduct, madam, than for his. You +have played on Lord Hartledon's known irresolution to mould him to your +will. I see now the aim of the letter you favoured me with at Cannes, +when you requested, with so much candour, that he might be left for a +time unfettered by any correspondence with Miss Ashton. Well, you have +obtained your ends. Your covetous wish that you and your daughter should +reign at Hartledon is on the point of being gratified. The honour of +marrying Lady Maude was intended both by you and her for the late Lord +Hartledon. Failing him, you transferred your hopes to the present one, +regardless of who suffered, or what hearts or honour might be broken in +the process."</p> + +<p>"Will nobody put this disreputable parson outside?" raved the dowager.</p> + +<p>"I do not seek to bring reproach home to you; let that, ladies, lie +between yourselves and conscience. I only draw your attention to the +facts; which have been sufficiently patent to the world, whatever Lord +Hartledon may think. And now I have said my say, and leave you; but I +declare that were I performing this burlesque of a marriage, as that +young clergyman is about to do, I should feel my prayers for the divine +blessing to attend it were but a vain mockery."</p> + +<p>He turned to leave the chapel with quick steps, when Lord Hartledon, +shaking off Maude, darted forward and caught his arm.</p> + +<p>"You will tell me one thing at least: Is Anne <i>not</i> going to marry +Colonel Barnaby?"</p> + +<p>"Sir!" thundered the doctor. "Going to marry <i>whom</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I heard it," he faltered. "I believed it to be the truth."</p> + +<p>"You may have heard it, but you did not believe it, Lord Hartledon. You +knew Anne better. Do not add this false excuse to the rest."</p> + +<p>Pleasant! Infinitely so for the bridegroom's tingling ears. Dr. Ashton +walked out of the chapel, and Val stood for a few moments where he was, +looking up and down in the dim light. It might be that in his mental +confusion he was deliberating what his course should be; but thought and +common sense came to him, and he knew he could not desert Lady Maude, +having brought matters so far to an end.</p> + +<p>"Proceed," he said to the young clergyman, stalking back to the altar. +"Get—it—over quickly."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr unfolded his arms and approached Lord Hartledon. He was the only +one who had caught the expression of the bride's face when Hartledon +dropped her arm. It spoke of bitter malice; it spoke, now that he had +returned to her, of an evil triumph; and it occurred to Thomas Carr to +think that he should not like a wife of his to be seen with that +expression on her bridal face.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon, you must excuse me if I do not remain to countenance +this wedding," he said in low but distinct tones. "Before hearing what I +have heard from that good man, I had hesitated about it; but I was lost +in surprise. Fare you well. I shall have left by the time you quit the +chapel."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, and Val mechanically shook it. The retreating steps +of Mr. Carr, following in the wake of Dr. Ashton, were heard, as Lord +Hartledon spoke again to the clergyman with irritable sharpness:</p> + +<p>"Why don't you begin?"</p> + +<p>And the countess-dowager fanned herself complacently, and neither she nor +Maude cared for the absence of a groomsman. But Maude was not quite +hardened yet; and the shame of her situation was tingeing her eyelids.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGER.</h3> + + +<p>Lord Hartledon was leading his bride through the chapel at the conclusion +of the ceremony, when his attention was caught by something outside one +of the windows. At first he thought it was a black cat curled up in some +impossible fashion, but soon saw it was a dark human face. And that face +he discovered to be Mr. Pike's, peering earnestly in.</p> + +<p>"Hedges, send that man away. How dare he intrude himself in this manner? +How has he got up to the window?"</p> + +<p>For these windows were high beyond the ordinary height of man. Hedges +went out, a sharp reprimand on his tongue, and found that Mr. Pike had +been at the trouble of carrying a heap of stones from a distance and +piling them up to stand upon.</p> + +<p>"Well, you must have a curiosity!" he exclaimed, in his surprise. "Just +put those stones back in their places, and take yourself away."</p> + +<p>"You are right," said the man. "I have a curiosity in all that concerns +the new lord. But I am going away now."</p> + +<p>He leaped down as he spoke, and began to replace the stones. Hedges went +in again.</p> + +<p>The carriage, waiting to convey them away, was already at the door, the +impatient horses pawing the ground. Maude changed her dress with all +speed; and in driving down the road by starlight they overtook Thomas +Carr, carrying his own portmanteau. Lord Hartledon let down the window +impulsively, as if he would have spoken, but seemed to recollect himself, +and drew it up again.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Maude.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carr."</p> + +<p>It was the first word he had spoken to her since the ceremony. His +silence had frightened her: what if he should resent on <i>her</i> the cruel +words spoken by Dr. Ashton? Sick, trembling, her beautiful face humble +and tearful enough now, she bent it on his shoulder in a shower of bitter +tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival, Percival! surely you are not going to punish me for what +has passed?"</p> + +<p>A moment's struggle with himself, and he turned and took both her hands +in his.</p> + +<p>"It may be that neither of us is free from blame, Maude, in regard to the +past. All we can now do, as it seems to me, is to forget it together, and +make the best of the future."</p> + +<p>"And you will forget Anne Ashton?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall forget her. I ask nothing better than to forget her +from this moment. I have made <i>you</i> my wife; and I will try to make your +happiness."</p> + +<p>He bent and kissed her face. Maude, in some restlessness, as it seemed, +withdrew to her own corner of the carriage and cried softly; and Lord +Hartledon let down the glass again to look back after Thomas Carr and his +portmanteau in the starlight.</p> + +<p>The only perfectly satisfied person was the countess-dowager. All the +little annoying hindrances went for nothing now that the desired end +was accomplished, and she was in high feather when she bade adieu to the +amiable young clergyman, who had to depart that night for his curacy, +ten miles away, to be in readiness for the morrow's services.</p> + +<p>"If you please, my lady, Captain Kirton has been asking for you once or +twice," said Hedges, entering the dowager's private sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"Then Captain Kirton must ask," retorted the dowager, who was sitting +down to her letters, which she had left unopened since their arrival in +the morning, in her anxiety for other interests. "Hedges, I should like +some supper: I had only a scrambling sort of dinner. You can bring it up +here. Something nice; and a bottle of champagne."</p> + +<p>Hedges withdrew with the order, and Lady Kirton applied herself to her +letters. The first she opened was from the daughter who had married the +French count. It told a pitiful tale of distress, and humbly craved to be +permitted to come over on a fortnight's visit, she and her two sickly +children, "for a little change."</p> + +<p>"I dare say!" emphatically cried the dowager. "What next? No, thank you, +my lady; now that I have at least a firm footing in this house—as that +blessed parson said—I am not going to risk it by filling it with every +bothering child I possess. Bob departs as soon as his leg's well. Why +what's this?"</p> + +<p>She had come upon a concluding line as she was returning the letter to +the envelope. "P.S. If I don't hear from you <i>very</i> decisively to the +contrary, I shall come, and trust to your good nature to forgive it. I +want to see Bob."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it, is it!" said the dowager. "She means to come, whether I +will or no. That girl always had enough impudence for a dozen."</p> + +<p>Drawing a sheet of paper out of her desk, she wrote a few rapid lines.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Jane,</p> + +<p>"For <i>mercy's</i> sake keep those <i>poor</i> children and yourself <i>away</i>! We +have had an <i>aweful infectious fever</i> rageing in the place, which it was +thought to be <i>cured</i>, but it's on the break <i>out</i> again—several +<i>deaths</i>, Hartledon and Maude (<i>married</i> of course) have gone out of its +reach and I'm thinking of it if <i>Bob's</i> leg which is <i>better</i> permits. +You'd not like I dare say to see the children in a <i>coffin apiece</i> and +yourself in a <i>third</i>, as might be the end. <i>Small-pox</i> is raging at +<i>Garchester</i> a neighbouring town, that <i>will</i> be awful if it gets to <i>us</i> +and I <i>hear</i> it's on the <i>road</i> and with kind love <i>believe</i> me your +<i>affectionate</i></p> + +<p>"MOTHER.</p> + +<p>"P.S. I am sorry for <i>what</i> you tell me about <i>Ugo</i> and the <i>state</i> of +affairs chey vous. But you know you <i>would marry</i> him so there's <i>nobody</i> +to blame. Ah! <i>Maude</i> has gone by <i>my</i> advice and done as <i>I</i> said and +the consequence is <i>she's</i> a peeress for life and got a handsome young +husband <i>without</i> a <i>will</i> of his own."</p></div> + +<p>The countess-dowager was not very adroit at spelling and composition, +whether French or English, as you observe. She made an end of her +correspondence, and sat down to a delicious little supper alone; as she +best liked to enjoy these treats. The champagne was excellent, and she +poured out a full tumbler of it at once, by way of wishing good luck to +Maude's triumphant wedding.</p> + +<p>"And it <i>is</i> a triumph!" she said, as she put down the empty glass. "I +hope it will bring Jane and the rest to a sense of <i>their</i> folly."</p> + +<p>A triumph? If you could only have looked into the future, Lady Kirton! +A triumph!</p> + +<p>The above was not the only letter written that evening. At the hotel +where Lord and Lady Hartledon halted for the night, when she had retired +under convoy of her maid, then Val's restrained remorse broke out. He +paced the room in a sort of mad restlessness; in the midst of which he +suddenly sat down to a table on which lay pens, ink, and paper, and +poured forth hasty sentences in his mind's wretched tumult.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Mrs. Ashton</span>,</p> + +<p>"I cannot address you in any more formal words, although you will have +reason to fling down the letter at my presuming to use these now—for +dear, most dear, you will ever be to me.</p> + +<p>"What can I say? Why do I write to you? Indeed to the latter question I +can only answer I do not know, save that some instinct of good feeling, +not utterly dead within me, is urging me to it.</p> + +<p>"Will you let me for a moment throw conventionality aside; will you for +that brief space of time let me speak truly and freely to you, as one +might speak who has passed the confines of this world?</p> + +<p>"When a man behaves to a woman as I, to my eternal shame, have this day +behaved to Anne, it is, I think, a common custom to regard the false man +as having achieved a sort of triumph; to attribute somewhat of +humiliation to the other.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Ashton, I cannot sleep until I have said to you that in my +case the very contrary is the fact. A more abject, humiliated man than I +stand at this hour in my own eyes never yet took his sins upon his soul. +Even you might be appeased if you could look into mine and see its sense +of degradation.</p> + +<p>"That my punishment has already come home to me is only just; that I +shall have to conceal it from all the world, including my wife, will not +lessen its sting.</p> + +<p>"I have this evening married Maude Kirton. I might tell you of unfair +play brought to bear upon me, of a positive assurance, apparently well +grounded, that Anne had entered into an engagement to wed another, could +I admit that these facts were any excuse for me. They are no excuse; not +the slightest palliation. My own yielding folly alone is to blame, and I +shall take shame to myself for ever.</p> + +<p>"I write this to you as I might have written it to my own mother, were +she living; not as an expiation; only to tell of my pain; that I am not +utterly hardened; that I would sue on my knees for pardon, were it not +shut out from me by my own act. There is no pardon for such as I. When +you have torn it in pieces, you will, I trust, forget the writer.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, dear Mrs. Ashton! God bless and comfort another who is +dear to you!—and believe me with true undying remorse your once attached +friend,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Hartledon</span>."</p></div> + +<p>It was a curious letter to write; but men of Lord Hartledon's sensitive +temperament in regard to others' feelings often do strange things; things +the world at large would stare at in their inability to understand them. +The remorse might not have come home to him quite so soon as this, his +wedding-day, but for the inopportune appearance of Dr. Ashton in the +chapel, speaking those words that told home so forcibly. Such reproach +on these vacillating men inflicts a torture that burns into the heart +like living fire.</p> + +<p>He sealed the letter, addressing it to Cannes; called a waiter, late as +it was, and desired him to post it. And then he walked about the room, +reflecting on the curse of his life—his besetting sin—irresolution. It +seemed almost an anomaly for <i>him</i> to make resolves; but he did make one +then; that he would, with the help of Heaven, be a MAN from henceforth, +however it might crucify his sensitive feelings. And for the future, the +obligation he had that day taken upon himself he determined to fulfil to +his uttermost in all honour and love; to cherish his wife as he would +have cherished Anne Ashton. For the past—but Lord Hartledon rose up now +with a start. There was one item of that past he dared not glance at, +which did not, however, relate to Miss Ashton: and it appeared inclined +to thrust itself prominently forward to-night.</p> + +<p>Could Lord Hartledon have borrowed somewhat of the easy indifference of +the countess-dowager, he had been a happier man. That lady would have +made a female Nero, enjoying herself while Rome was burning. She remained +on in her snug quarters at Hartledon, and lived in clover.</p> + +<p>One evening, rather more than a week after the marriage, Hedges had been +on an errand to Calne, and was hastening home. In the lonely part of the +road near Hartledon, upon turning a sharp corner, he came upon Mirrable, +who was standing talking to Pike, very much to the butler's surprise. +Pike walked away at once; and the butler spoke.</p> + +<p>"He is not an acquaintance of yours, that man, Mrs. Mirrable?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed no," she answered, tossing her head. "It was like his impudence +to stop me. Rather flurried me too," she continued: and indeed Hedges +noticed that she seemed flurried.</p> + +<p>"What did he stop you for? To beg?"</p> + +<p>"Not that. I've never heard that he does beg. He accosted me with a cool +question as to when his lordship was coming back to Hartledon. I answered +that it could not be any business of his. And then you came up."</p> + +<p>"He is uncommon curious as to my lord. I can't make it out. I've seen him +prowling about the grounds: and the night of the marriage he was mounted +up at the chapel window. Lord Hartledon saw him, too. I should like to +know what he wants."</p> + +<p>"By a half-word he let drop, I fancy he has a crotchet in his head that +his lordship will find him some work when he comes home. But I must go on +my way," added Mirrable. "Mrs. Gum's not well, and I sent word I'd look +in for half-an-hour this evening."</p> + +<p>Hedges had to go on his way also, for it was close upon the +countess-dowager's dinner-hour, at which ceremony he must attend. Putting +his best foot forward, he walked at more than an ordinary pace, and +overtook a gentleman almost at the very door of Hartledon. The stranger +was approaching the front entrance, Hedges was wheeling off to the back; +but the former turned and spoke. A tall, broad-shouldered, grey-haired +man, with high cheek-bones. Hedges took him for a clergyman from his +attire; black, with a white neckcloth.</p> + +<p>"This is Hartledon House, I believe," he said, speaking with a Scotch +accent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Do you belong to it?"</p> + +<p>"I am Lord Hartledon's butler."</p> + +<p>"Is Lord Hartledon at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He is in France."</p> + +<p>"I read a notice of his marriage in the public papers," continued the +stranger, whose eyes were fixed on Hedges. "It was, I suppose, a correct +one?"</p> + +<p>"My lord was married the week before last: about ten or eleven days ago."</p> + +<p>"Ay; April the fourteenth, the paper said. She is one of the Kirton +family. When do you expect him home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know at all, sir. I've not heard anything about it."</p> + +<p>"He is in France, you say, Paris, I suppose. Can you furnish me with his +address?"</p> + +<p>Up to this point the colloquy had proceeded smoothly on both sides: but +it suddenly flashed into the mind of Hedges that the stranger's manner +was somewhat mysterious, though in what the mystery lay he could not have +defined. The communicative man, true to the interests of his master, +became cautious at once: he supposed some of Lord Hartledon's worries, +contracted when he was Mr. Elster, were returning upon him.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give his address, sir. And for the matter of that, it might not +be of use if I could. Lord and Lady Hartledon did not intend remaining +any length of time in one place."</p> + +<p>The stranger had dug the point of his umbrella into the level greensward +that bounded the gravel, and swayed the handle about with his hand, +pausing in thought.</p> + +<p>"I have come a long way to see Lord Hartledon," he observed. "It might be +less trouble and cost for me to go on to Paris and see him there, than to +start back for home, and come here again when he returns to England. Are +you sure you can't give me his address?"</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry I can't, sir. There was a talk of their going on to +Switzerland," continued Hedges, improvising the journey, "and so coming +back through Germany; and there <i>was</i> a talk of their making Italy before +the heat came on, and stopping there. Any way, sir, I dare say they are +already away from Paris."</p> + +<p>The stranger regarded Hedges attentively, rather to the discomfiture of +that functionary, who thought he was doubted. He then asked a great many +questions, some about Lord Hartledon's personal habits, some about Lady +Maude: the butler answered them freely or cautiously, as he thought he +might, feeling inclined all the while to chase the intruder off the +premises. Presently he turned his attention on the house.</p> + +<p>"A fine old place, this, Mr. Butler."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I could look over it, if I wished?"</p> + +<p>Hedges hesitated. He was privately asking himself whether the law would +allow the stranger, if he had come after any debt of Lord Hartledon's, to +refuse to leave the house, once he got into it.</p> + +<p>"I could ask Lady Kirton, sir, if you particularly wished it."</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton? You have some one in the house, then!"</p> + +<p>"The Dowager Lady Kirton's here, sir. One of her sons also—Captain +Kirton; but he is confined to his room."</p> + +<p>"Then I would rather not go in," said the stranger quickly. "I'm very +disappointed to have come all this way and not find Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Can I forward any letter for you, sir? If you'd like to intrust one to +me, I'll send it as soon as we know of any certain address."</p> + +<p>"No—no, I think not," said the stranger, musingly. "There might be +danger," he muttered to himself, but Hedges caught the words.</p> + +<p>He stood swaying the umbrella-handle about, looking down at it, as if +that would assist his decision. Then he looked at Hedges.</p> + +<p>"My business with Lord Hartledon is quite private, and I would rather not +write. I'll wait until he is back in England: and see him then."</p> + +<p>"What name, sir?" asked Hedges, as the stranger turned away.</p> + +<p>"I would prefer not to leave my name," was the candid answer. "Good +evening."</p> + +<p>He walked briskly down the avenue, and Hedges stood looking after him, +slightly puzzled in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it's a creditor; that I don't. He looks like a parson to +me. But it's some trouble though, if it's not debt. 'Danger' was the +word: 'there might be danger.' Danger in writing, he meant. Any way, I'm +glad he didn't go in to that ferreting old dowager. And whatever it may +be, his lordship's able to pay it now."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>A CHANCE MEETING.</h3> + + +<p>Some few weeks went by. On a fine June morning Lord and Lady Hartledon +were breakfasting at their hotel in the Rue Rivoli. She was listlessly +playing with her cup; he was glancing over <i>Galignani's</i>.</p> + +<p>"Maude," he suddenly exclaimed, "the fountains are to play on Sunday at +Versailles. Will you go to see them?"</p> + +<p>"I am tired of sight-seeing, and tired of Paris too," was Lady +Hartledon's answer, spoken with apathy.</p> + +<p>"Are you?" he returned, with animation, as though not sorry to hear the +avowal. "Then we won't stay in Paris any longer. When shall we leave?"</p> + +<p>"Are the letters not late this morning?" she asked, allowing the question +to pass.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon glanced at the clock. "Very late: and we are late also. +Are you expecting any in particular?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. This chocolate is cold."</p> + +<p>"That is easily remedied," said he, rising to ring the bell. "They can +bring in some fresh."</p> + +<p>"And keep us waiting half-an-hour!" she grumbled.</p> + +<p>"The hotel is crammed up to the mansarde," said good-natured Lord +Hartledon, who was easily pleased, and rather tolerant of neglect in +French hotels. "Is not that the right word, Maude? You took me to task +yesterday for saying garret. The servants are run off their legs."</p> + +<p>"Then the hotel should keep more servants. I am quite sick of having to +ring twice. A week ago I wished I was out of the place."</p> + +<p>"My dear Maude, why did you not say so? If you'd like to go on at once to +Germany—"</p> + +<p>"Lettres et journal pour monsieur," interrupted a waiter, entering with +two letters and the <i>Times</i>.</p> + +<p>"One for you, Maude," handing a letter to his wife. "Don't go," he +continued to the waiter; "we want some more chocolate; this is cold. Tell +him in French, Maude."</p> + +<p>But Lady Hartledon did not hear; or if she heard, did not heed; she was +already absorbed in the contents of her letter.</p> + +<p>"Ici," said Hartledon, pushing the chocolate-pot towards the man, and +rallying the best French he could command, "encore du chocolat. Toute +froide, <i>this</i>. Et puis dépêchez vous; il est tarde, et nous avons besoin +de sortir."</p> + +<p>The man was accustomed to the French of Englishmen, and withdrew without +moving a muscle of his face. But Lady Hartledon's ears had been set on +edge.</p> + +<p>"<i>Don't</i> attempt French again, Val. They'll understand you if you speak +in English."</p> + +<p>"Did I make any mistake?" he asked good-humouredly. "I could speak French +once; but am out of practice. It's the genders bother one."</p> + +<p>"Fine French it must have been!" thought her ladyship. "Who is your +letter from?"</p> + +<p>"My bankers, I think. About Germany, Maude—would you like to go there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Later. After we have been to London."</p> + +<p>"To London!"</p> + +<p>"We will go to London at once, Percival; stay there for the rest of the +season, and then—"</p> + +<p>"My dear," he interrupted, his face overcast, "the season is nearly over. +It will be of no use going there now."</p> + +<p>"Plenty of use. We shall have quite six weeks of it. Don't look cross, +Val; I have set my heart upon it."</p> + +<p>"But have you considered the difficulties? In the first place, we have no +house in town; in the second—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes we have: a very good house."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon paused, and looked at her; he thought she was joking. +"Where is it?" he asked in merry tones; "at the top of the Monument?"</p> + +<p>"It is in Piccadilly," she coolly replied. "Do you remember, some days +ago, I read out an advertisement of a house that was to be let there for +the remainder of the season, and remarked that it would suit us?"</p> + +<p>"That it might suit us, had we wanted one," put in Val.</p> + +<p>"I wrote off at once to mamma, and begged her to see after it and engage +it for us," she continued, disregarding her husband's amendment. "She now +tells me she has done so, and ordered servants up from Hartledon. By the +time this letter reaches me she says it will be in readiness."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon in his astonishment could scarcely find words to reply. +"You wrote—yourself—and ordered the house to be taken?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You are difficult to convince, Val."</p> + +<p>"Then I think it was your duty to have first consulted me, Lady Maude," +he said, feeling deeply mortified.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she laughed. "I have not been Lady Maude this two months."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Now don't pretend to be offended, Val. I have only saved you trouble."</p> + +<p>"Maude," he said, rallying his good humour, "it was not right. Let +us—for Heaven's sake let us begin as we mean to go on: our interests +must be <i>one</i>, not separate. Why did you not tell me you wished to return +to London, and allow me to see after an abode for us? It would have been +the proper way."</p> + +<p>"Well, the truth is, I saw you did not want to go; you kept holding back +from it; and if I <i>had</i> spoken you would have shillyshallied over it +until the season was over. Every one I know is in London now."</p> + +<p>The waiter entered with the fresh chocolate, and retired again. Lord +Hartledon was standing at the window then. His wife went up to him, and +stole her hand within his arm.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry if I have offended you, Val. It's no great matter to have +done."</p> + +<p>"I think it was, Maude. However—don't act for yourself in future; let me +know your wishes. I do not think you have expressed a wish, or half a +wish, since our marriage, but I have felt a pleasure in gratifying it."</p> + +<p>"You good old fellow! But I am given to having a will of my own, and to +act independently. I'm like mamma in that. Val, we will start to-morrow: +have you any orders for the servants? I can transmit them through mamma."</p> + +<p>"I have no orders. This is your expedition, Maude, not mine; and, I +assure you, I feel like a man in utter darkness in regard to it. Allow +me to see your mother's letter."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon had put the letter safely into her pocket.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not, Percival: it contains a few private words to myself, +and mamma has always an objection to her letters being shown. I'll read +you all necessary particulars. You must let me have some money to-day."</p> + +<p>"How much?" asked he, from between his compressed lips.</p> + +<p>"Oceans. I owe for millinery and things. And, Val, I'll go to Versailles +this afternoon, if you like. I want to see some of the rooms again."</p> + +<p>"Very well," he answered.</p> + +<p>She poured out some chocolate, took it hurriedly, and quitted the room, +leaving her husband in a disheartening reverie. That Lady Hartledon and +Maude Kirton were two very distinct persons he had discovered already; +the one had been all gentleness and childlike suavity, the other was +positive, extravagant, and self-willed; the one had made a pretence of +loving him beyond all other things in life, the other was making very +little show of loving him at all, or of concealing her indifference. +Lord Hartledon was not the only husband who has been disagreeably +astonished by a similar metamorphosis.</p> + +<p>The following was the letter of the countess-dowager:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Darling Maude</span>,</p> + +<p>"I have <i>secured</i> the <i>house</i> you write about and send by this <i>post</i> for +Hedges and a few of the rest from <i>Hartledon</i>. It won't accommodate a +large <i>establishment</i> I can tell you and you'll be <i>disappointed</i> when +you come over to take <i>possession</i> which you can do when you <i>choose</i>. +Val was a <i>fool</i> for letting his town house in the spring but of course +we know he is <i>one</i> and must put up with it. Whatever you <i>do</i>, don't +<i>consult</i> him about <i>any earthly thing</i> take <i>your own way</i>, he never did +have <i>much</i> of a will and you must let him <i>have none</i> for the future. +You've got a splendid <i>chance</i> can spend <i>what you like</i> and rule in +<i>society</i> and he'll subside into a <i>tame spaniel</i>.</p> + +<p>"Maude if you are such an idiot I'll <i>shake</i> you. Find you've made a +<i>dredful</i> mistake?—can't bear your husband?—keep thinking always of +<i>Edward</i>? A child might write such utter <i>rubish</i> but not you, what does +it matter whether one's husband is <i>liked</i> or <i>disliked</i>, provided he +gives one <i>position</i> and <i>wealth</i>? Go to Amiens and stop with <i>Jane</i> for +a <i>week</i> and see her <i>plight</i> and then grumble at your own, you <i>are</i> +an idiot.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite <i>glad</i> about your taking this town-<i>house</i>, and shall enter +into <i>posession</i> myself as soon as the servants are up, and await you. +<i>Bob's</i> quite <i>well</i> and joins to-day and of course <i>gives up</i> his +lodgings, which have been <i>wretchedly confined</i> and uncomfortable and +where I should have gone to but for this <i>move</i> of yours I don't know. +Mind you bring me over a Parisian <i>bonnet</i> or two or some articles of +that <i>sort</i>. I'm nearly in <i>rags</i>, Kirton's as undutiful as he <i>can</i> be +but it's that <i>wife</i> of his.</p> + +<p>"Your affectionate mother,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">C. Kirton</span>."</p></div> + +<p>The letter will give you some guide to the policy of Maude Hartledon +since her marriage. She did find she had made a mistake. She cared no +more for her husband now than she had cared for him before; and it was a +positive fact that she despised him for walking so tamely into the snare +laid for him by herself and her mother. Nevertheless she triumphed; he +had made her a peeress, and she did care for that; she cared also for the +broad lands of Hartledon. That she was unwise in assuming her own will so +promptly, with little regard to consulting his, she might yet discover.</p> + +<p>At Versailles that day—to which place they went in accordance with +Maude's wish—there occurred a rencontre which Lord Hartledon would +willingly have gone to the very ends of the earth to avoid. It happened +to be rather full for Versailles; many of the visitors in Paris +apparently having taken it into their minds to go; indeed, Maude's wish +was induced by the fact that some of her acquaintances in the gay capital +were going also.</p> + +<p>You may possibly remember a very small room in the galleries, exceedingly +small as compared with the rest, chiefly hung with English portraits. +They were in this room, amidst the little crowd that filled it, when Lord +Hartledon became aware that his wife had encountered some long-lost +friend. There was much greeting and shaking of hands. He caught the +name—Kattle; and being a somewhat singular name, he recognised it for +that of the lady who had been sojourning at Cannes, and had sent the news +of Miss Ashton's supposed engagement to the countess-dowager. There was +the usual babble on both sides—where each was staying, had been staying, +would be staying; and then Lord Hartledon heard the following words from +Mrs. Kattle.</p> + +<p>"How strange I should have seen you! I have met you, the Fords, and the +Ashtons here, and did not know that any of you were in Paris. It's true +I only arrived yesterday. Such a long illness, my dear, I had at Turin!"</p> + +<p>"The Ashtons!" involuntarily repeated Maude. "Are they here?—in the +château?" And it instantly occurred to her how she should like to meet +them, and parade her triumph. If ever a spark of feeling for her husband +arose within Maude's heart, it was when she thought of Anne Ashton. She +was bitterly jealous of her still.</p> + +<p>"Yes, here; I saw them not three minutes ago. They are only now on their +road home from Cannes. Fancy their making so long a stay!"</p> + +<p>"You wrote mamma word that Miss Ashton was about to marry some Colonel +Barnaby."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kattle laughed. It is possible that written news might have been +<i>asked for</i> by the countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, and so I did; but it turned out to be a mistake. He did +admire her; there was no mistake about that; and I dare say she might +have had him if she liked. How's your brother and his poor leg?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is well," answered Maude. "Au revoir; I can't stand this crush +any longer."</p> + +<p>It was really a crush just then in the room; and though Maude escaped +from it dexterously, Lord Hartledon did not. He was wedged in behind some +stout women, and had the pleasure of hearing another word or two from +Mrs. Kattle.</p> + +<p>"Who was that?" asked a lady, who appeared to be her companion.</p> + +<p>"Lady Hartledon. He was only the younger brother until a few months ago, +but the elder one got drowned in some inexplicable manner on his own +estate, and this one came into the title. The old dowager began at once +to angle for him, and succeeded in hooking him. She used to write me word +how it progressed."</p> + +<p>"She is very beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon made his escape, and found his wife looking round for him. +She was struck by the aspect of his face.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Percival?"</p> + +<p>"Ill? No. But I don't care how soon we get out of these rooms. I can't +think what brings so many people in them to-day."</p> + +<p>"He has heard that <i>she's</i> here, and would like to avoid her," thought +Maude as she took the arm he held out. "The large rooms are empty enough, +I'm sure," she remarked. "Shall we have time to go to the Trianon?"</p> + +<p>"If you like. Yes."</p> + +<p>He began to hurry through the rooms. Maude, however, was in no mood to be +hurried, but stopped here and stopped there. All at once they met a large +party of friends; those she had originally expected to meet. Quitting her +husband's arm, she became lost amongst them.</p> + +<p>There was no help for it; and Lord Hartledon, resigning himself to the +detention, took up his standing before the pictures and stared at them, +his back to the room. He saw a good deal to interest him, in spite of his +rather tumultuous state of mind, and remained there until he found +himself surrounded by other spectators. Turning hastily with a view to +escaping, he trod upon a lady's dress. She looked up at his word of +apology, and they stood face to face—himself and Miss Ashton!</p> + +<p>That both utterly lost their presence of mind would have been conclusive +to the spectators, had any regarded them; but none did so. They were +strangers amidst the crowd. For the space of a moment each gazed on the +other, spell-bound. Lord Hartledon's honest blue eyes were riveted on her +face with a strangely yearning expression of repentance—her sweet face, +which had turned as white as ashes. He wore mourning still for his +brother, and was the most distinguished-looking man in the château that +day. Anne was in a trailing lilac silk, with a white gossamer-bonnet. +That the heart of each went out to the other, as it had perhaps never +gone out before, it may be no sin to say. Sin or no sin, it was the +truth. The real value of a thing, as you know, is never felt until it +is lost. For two months each had been dutifully striving to forget the +other, and believed they were succeeding; and this first accidental +meeting roused up the past in all its fever of passion.</p> + +<p>No more conscious of what he did than if he had been in a dream, Lord +Hartledon held out his hand; and she, quite as unconscious, mechanically +met it with hers. What confused words of greeting went forth from his +lips he never knew; she as little; but this state of bewildered feeling +lasted only a minute; recollection came to both, and she strove to +withdraw her hand to retreat.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Anne!" was all he whispered, his fervent words marred by +their tone of pain; and he wrung her hand as he released it.</p> + +<p>Turning away he caught the eyes of his wife riveted on them; she had +evidently seen the meeting, and her colour was high. Lord Hartledon +walked straight into the next room, and Maude went up to Anne.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Miss Ashton? I am so glad to meet you. I have just heard +you were here from Mrs. Kattle. You have been speaking to my husband."</p> + +<p>Anne bowed; she did not lose her presence of mind at <i>this</i> encounter. A +few civil words of reply given with courteous dignity, and she moved away +with a bright flush on her cheek, towards Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were +standing arm-in-arm enraptured before a remote picture, cognizant of +nothing else.</p> + +<p>"How thin she looks!" exclaimed Maude, as she rejoined her husband, and +took his arm.</p> + +<p>"Who looks thin?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Ashton. I wonder she did not fling your hand away, instead of +putting her own into it!"</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to see the Trianon? We shall be late."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do wish to see it. But you need not speak in that tone: it was +not my fault that we met her."</p> + +<p>He answered never a syllable. His lips were compressed to pain, and his +face was hectic; but he would not be drawn into reproaching his wife by +so much as a word, for the sort of taste she was displaying. The manner +in which he had treated Miss Ashton and her family was ever in his mind, +more or less, in all its bitter, humiliating disgrace. The worst part of +it to Val was, that there could be no reparation.</p> + +<p>The following day Lord Hartledon and his wife took their departure from +Paris; and if anything could have imparted especial gratification on his +arriving in London at the hired house, it was to find that his wife's +mother was not in it. Val had come home against his will; he had not +wished to be in London that season; rather would he have buried himself +and his haunting sense of shame on the tolerant Continent; and he +certainly had not wished his wife to make her debut in a small hired +house. When he let his own, nothing could have been further from his +thoughts than marriage. As to this house—Lady Kirton had told her +daughter she would be disappointed in it; but when Maude saw its +dimensions, its shabby entrance, its want of style altogether, she was +dismayed. "And after that glowing advertisement!" she breathed +resentfully. It was one of the smallest houses facing the Green Park.</p> + +<p>Hedges came forward with an apology from the countess-dowager. An apology +for not invading their house and inflicting her presence upon them +uninvited! A telegraphic despatch from Lord Kirton had summoned her to +Ireland on the previous day; and Val's face grew bright as he heard it.</p> + +<p>"What was the matter, Hedges?" inquired his mistress. "I'm sure my +brother would not telegraph unless it was something."</p> + +<p>"The message didn't say, my lady. It was just a few words, asking her +ladyship to go off by the first train, but giving no reason."</p> + +<p>"I wonder she went, then," observed Val to his wife, as they looked into +the different rooms. But Maude did not wonder: she knew how anxious her +mother was to be on good terms with her eldest son, from whom she +received occasional supplies. Rather would she quarrel with the whole +world than with him.</p> + +<p>"I think it a good thing she has gone, Maude," said he. "There certainly +would not have been room for her and for us in this house."</p> + +<p>"And so do I," answered Maude, looking round her bed-chamber. "If mamma +fancies she's going to inflict herself upon us for good she's mistaken. +She and I might quarrel, perhaps; for I know she'd try to control me. +Val, what are we to do in this small house?"</p> + +<p>"The best we can. We have made the bargain, you know, and taken +possession now."</p> + +<p>"You are laughing. I declare I think you are glad it has turned out what +it is!"</p> + +<p>"I am not sorry," he avowed. "You'll let me cater for you another time, +Maude."</p> + +<p>She put up her face to be kissed. "Don't be angry with me. It is our +home-coming."</p> + +<p>"Angry!" he repeated. "I have never shown anger to you yet, Maude. Never +a woman had a more indulgent husband than you shall have in me."</p> + +<p>"You don't say a loving one, Val!"</p> + +<p>"And a loving one also: if you will only let me be so."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Love requires love in return. We shall be happy, I am sure, if you so +will it. Only let us pull together; one mind, one interest. Here's your +maid. I wonder where my dressing room is?"</p> + +<p>And thus they entered on what remained of the London season. The +newspapers announced the arrival of Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Maude +read it aloud to her husband. She might have retained peace longer, +however, had that announcement not gone forth to the four corners of the +land.</p> + +<p>"Only let us pull together!" A very few days indeed sufficed to dissipate +that illusion. Lady Hartledon plunged madly into all the gaieties of the +dying season, as though to make up for lost time; Lord Hartledon never +felt less inclined to plunge into anything, unless it was the waters of +oblivion. He held back from some places, but she did not appear to care, +going her way in a very positive, off-hand manner, according to her own +will, and paying not the slightest deference to his.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGER AGAIN.</h3> + + +<p>On a burning day at the end of June, Lord Hartledon was walking towards +the Temple. He had not yet sought out his friend Thomas Carr; a sense of +shame held him back; but he was on his way to do so now.</p> + +<p>Turning down Essex Street and so to the left, he traversed the courts +and windings, and mounted the stairs to the barrister's rooms. Many a +merry hour had he passed in those three small rooms, dignified with the +name of "Mr. Carr's chambers," but which were in fact also Mr. Carr's +dwelling-place—and some sad ones.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon knocked at the outer door with his stick—a somewhat +faint, doubtful knock; not with the free hand of one at ease with himself +and the world. For one thing, he was uncertain as to the reception he +should meet with.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr came to the door himself; his clerk was out. When he saw who was +his visitor he stood in comic surprise. Val stepped in, extending his +hand; and it was heartily taken.</p> + +<p>"You are not offended with me, then, Carr?"</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Mr. Carr, "I have no reason to be offended. Your sin was not +against me."</p> + +<p>"That's a strong word, 'sin.'"</p> + +<p>"It is spoken," was the answer; "but I need not speak it again. I don't +intend to quarrel with you. I was not, I repeat, the injured party."</p> + +<p>"Yet you took yourself off in dudgeon, as though you were, leaving me +without a groomsman."</p> + +<p>"I would not remain to witness a marriage that—that you ought not to +have entered upon."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's done and over, and need not be brought up again," returned +Hartledon, a shade of annoyance in his tones.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I have no wish or right to bring it up. How is Lady +Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"She is very well. And now what has kept you away, Carr? We have been in +London nearly a fortnight, and you've never been near me. I thought you +<i>were</i> going to quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I did not know you had returned."</p> + +<p>"Not know it! Why all the newspapers had it in amongst the 'fashionable +intelligence.'"</p> + +<p>"I have more to do with my time than to look at the fashionable portion +of the papers. Not being fashionable myself, it doesn't interest me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's about a fortnight since we came back to this hateful place," +returned Hartledon, his light tone subsiding into seriousness. "I am out +of conceit with England just now; and would far rather have gone to the +Antipodes."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you come back to it?" inquired the barrister, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"My wife gave me no choice. She possesses a will of her own. It is the +ordinary thing, perhaps, for wives to do so."</p> + +<p>"Some do, and some don't," observed Thomas Carr, who never flattered at +the expense of truth. "Are you going down to Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Hartledon!" with a perceptible shiver. "In the mind I am in, I shall +never visit Hartledon again; there are some in its vicinity I would +rather not insult by my presence. Why do you bring up disagreeable +subjects?"</p> + +<p>"You will have to get over that feeling," observed Mr. Carr, disregarding +the hint, and taking out his probing-knife. "And the sooner it is got +over the better for all parties. You cannot become an exile from your own +place. Are they at Calne now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They were in Paris just before we left it, and there was an +encounter at Versailles. I wished myself dead; I declare I did. A day or +two after we came to England they crossed over, and went straight down to +Calne. There—don't say any more."</p> + +<p>"The longer you keep away from Hartledon the greater effort it will cost +you to go down to it; and—"</p> + +<p>"I won't go to Hartledon," he interrupted, in a sort of fury; "neither +perhaps would you, in my place."</p> + +<p>"Sir," cried Mr. Carr's clerk, bustling in and addressing his master, +"you are waited for at the chambers of Serjeant Gale. The consultation is +on."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon rose.</p> + +<p>"I will not detain you, Carr; business must be attended to. Will you come +and dine with us this evening? Only me and my wife. Here's where we are +staying—Piccadilly. My own house is let, you know."</p> + +<p>"I have no engagement, and will come with pleasure," said Mr. Carr, +taking the card. "What hour?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's just what I can't tell you. Lady Hartledon orders dinner to +suit her engagements—any time between six and nine! I never know. We are +a fashionable couple, don't you see?"</p> + +<p>"Stay, though, Hartledon; I forget. I have a business appointment for +half-past eight. Perhaps I can put it off."</p> + +<p>"Come up at six. You'll be all right, then, in any case."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon left the Temple, and sauntered towards home. He had +no engagement on hand—nothing to kill time. He and his wife were +falling naturally into the way of—as he had just cynically styled +it—fashionable people. She went her way and he went his.</p> + +<p>Many a cabman held up his hand or his whip; but in his present mood +walking was agreeable to him: why should he hurry home, when he had +nothing on earth to do there? So he stared here, and gazed there, and +stopped to speak to this acquaintance, and walked a few steps with that, +went into his club for ten minutes, and arrived home at last.</p> + +<p>His wife's carriage was at the door waiting for her. She was bound on an +expedition to Chiswick: Lord Hartledon had declined it. He met her +hastening out as he entered, and she was looking very cross.</p> + +<p>"How late you are going, Maude!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there has been a mistake," she said peevishly, turning in with him +to a small room they used as a breakfast-room. "I have been waiting all +this time for Lady Langton, and she, I find, has been waiting for me. I'm +now going round to take her up. Oh, I have secured that opera-box, Val, +but at an extravagant price, considering the little time that remains of +the season."</p> + +<p>"What opera-box?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you? It's one I heard of yesterday. I was not going again +to put up with the wretched little box they palmed you off with. I did +tell you that."</p> + +<p>"It was the only one I could get, Maude: there was no other choice."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. Well, I have secured another for the rest of the season, +and you must not talk about extravagance, please."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Val, with a smile. "For what hour have you ordered +dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Nine o'clock! That's awkward—and late."</p> + +<p>"Why awkward? You may have to wait for me even then. It is impossible to +say when we shall get home from Chiswick. All the world will be there."</p> + +<p>"I have just asked Carr to dine with us, and told him to come at six. I +don't fancy these hard-working men care to wait so long for their dinner. +And he has an appointment for half-past eight."</p> + +<p>The colour came flushing into Lady Hartledon's face, an angry light into +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You have asked Carr to dinner! How dared you?"</p> + +<p>Val looked up in quiet amazement.</p> + +<p>"Dared!"</p> + +<p>"Well—yes. Dared!"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, Maude. I suppose I may exercise the right of +inviting a friend to dinner."</p> + +<p>"Not when it is objectionable to me. I dislike that man Carr, and will +not receive him."</p> + +<p>"You can have no grounds for disliking him," returned Lord Hartledon +warmly. "He has been a good and true friend to me ever since I knew what +friendship meant; and he is a good and true man."</p> + +<p>"Too much of a friend," she sarcastically retorted. "You don't need him +now, and can drop him."</p> + +<p>"Maude," said Lord Hartledon, very quietly, "I have fancied several times +lately that you are a little mistaking me. I am not to have a will of my +own; I am to bend in all things to yours; you are to be mistress and +master, I a nonentity: is it not so? This is a mistake. No woman ever had +a better or more indulgent husband than you shall find in me: but in all +necessary things, where it is needful and expedient that I should +exercise my own judgment, and act as master, I shall do it."</p> + +<p>She paused in very astonishment: the tone was so calmly decisive.</p> + +<p>"My dear, let us have no more of this; something must have vexed you +to-day."</p> + +<p>"We will have no more of it," she passionately retorted; "and I'll have +no more of your Thomas Carrs. It is not right that you should bring a man +here who has deliberately insulted me. Be quiet, Lord Hartledon; he has. +What else was it but an insult—his going out of the chapel in the manner +he did, when we were before the altar? It was a direct intimation that he +did not countenance the marriage. He would have preferred, I suppose, +that you should marry your country sweetheart, Anne Ashton."</p> + +<p>A hot flush rose to Lord Hartledon's brow, but his tone was strangely +temperate. "I have already warned you, Maude, that we shall do well to +discard that name from our discussions, and if possible from our +thoughts; it may prove better for both of us."</p> + +<p>"Better for you, perhaps; but you are <i>not</i> going to exercise any control +over my will, or words, or action; and so I tell you at once. I'm quite +old enough to be out of leading-strings, and I'll be mistress in my own +house. You will do well to send a note to your amiable friend Carr; it +may save him a useless journey; for at my table he shall not sit. Now you +know, Val."</p> + +<p>She spoke impatiently, haughtily, and swept out to her carriage. Val did +not follow to place her in; he positively did not, but left her to the +servants. Never in his whole life perhaps had he felt so nettled, never +so resolute: the once vacillating, easily-persuaded man, when face to +face with people, was speedily finding the will he had only exercised +behind their backs. He rang the bell for Hedges.</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship has ordered dinner for nine o'clock," he said, when the +butler appeared.</p> + +<p>"I believe so, my lord."</p> + +<p>"It will be inconvenient to me to wait so long to-day. I shall dine at +seven. You can serve it in this room, leaving the dining-room for Lady +Hartledon. Mr. Carr dines with me."</p> + +<p>So Hedges gave the necessary orders, and dinner was laid in the +breakfast-room. Thomas Carr came in, bringing the news that he had +succeeded in putting off his appointment. Lord Hartledon received him in +the same room, fearing possibly the drawing-room might be invaded by his +wife. She was just as likely to be home early from Chiswick as late.</p> + +<p>"We have it to ourselves, Carr, and I am not sorry. There was no +certainty about my wife's return, so I thought we'd dine alone."</p> + +<p>They very much enjoyed their tête-à-tête dinner; as they had enjoyed many +a one in Hartledon's bachelor days. Thomas Carr—one of the quiet, good +men in a fast world—was an admirable companion, full of intelligence and +conversation. Hedges left them alone after the cloth was removed, but in +a very few minutes returned; his step rather more subdued than usual, as +if he came upon some secret mission.</p> + +<p>"Here's that stranger come again, sir," he began, in low tones; and it +may as well be remarked that in moments of forgetfulness he often did +address his master as he used to address him in the past. "He asked if—"</p> + +<p>"What stranger?" rather testily interposed Lord Hartledon. "I am at +dinner, and can't see any stranger now. What are you thinking about, +Hedges?"</p> + +<p>"It is what I said," returned Hedges; "but he would not take the answer. +He said he had come a long way to see your lordship, and he would see +you; his business was very important. My lady asked him—"</p> + +<p>"Has Lady Hartledon returned?"</p> + +<p>"She came in now, my lord, while I was denying you to him. Her ladyship +heard him say he would see you, and she inquired what his business was; +but he did not tell her. It was private business, he remarked, and could +only be entered into with your lordship."</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Hedges? Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon had dropped his voice to confidential tones. Hedges was +faithful, and had been privy to some of his embarrassments in the old +days. The man looked at the barrister, and seemed to hesitate.</p> + +<p>"Speak out. You can say anything before Mr. Carr."</p> + +<p>"I don't know him," answered Hedges. "It is the gentleman who came to +Hartledon the week after your lordship's marriage, asking five hundred +questions, and wanting—"</p> + +<p>"He, is it?" interrupted Val. "You told me about him when I came home, +I remember. Go on, Hedges."</p> + +<p>"That's all, my lord. Except that he is here now"—and Hedges nodded his +head towards the room-door. "He seems very inquisitive. When my lady went +upstairs, he asked whether that was the countess, and followed her to the +foot of the stairs to look after her. I never saw any gentleman stare +so."</p> + +<p>Val played with his wine-glass, and pondered. "I don't believe I owe a +shilling in the world," quoth he—betraying the bent of his thoughts, and +speaking to no one in particular. "I have squared-up every debt, as far +as I know."</p> + +<p>"He does not look like a creditor," observed Hedges, with a fatherly air. +"Quite superior to that: more like a parson. It's his manner that makes +one doubt. There was a mystery about it at Hartledon that I didn't like; +and he refused to give his name. His insisting on seeing your lordship +now, at dinner or not at dinner, is odd too; his voice is quiet, just as +if he possessed the right to do this. I didn't know what to do, and +as I say, he's in the hall."</p> + +<p>"Show him in somewhere, Hedges. Lady Hartledon is in the drawing-room, I +suppose: let him go into the dining-room."</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship's dinner is being laid there, my lord," dissented the +cautious retainer. "She said it was to be served as soon as it was ready, +having come home earlier than she expected."</p> + +<p>"Deuce take it!" testily responded Val, "one can't swing a cat in these +cramped hired houses. Show him into my smoking-den upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Let me go there," said Mr. Carr, "and you can see him in this room."</p> + +<p>"No; keep to your wine, Carr. Take him up there, Hedges."</p> + +<p>The butler retired, and Lord Hartledon turned to his guest. "Carr, can +you give a guess at the fellow's business?"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to trouble you. If you have overlooked any old debt, you +are able to give a cheque for it. But I should rather suspect your +persevering friend to be some clergyman or missionary, bent on drawing +a good subscription from you."</p> + +<p>Val did not raise his eyes. He was playing again with his empty +wine-glass, his face grave and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Do they serve writs in these cases?" he suddenly asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr laughed. "Is the time so long gone by that you have forgotten +yours? You have had some in your day."</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking of debt, Carr: that is over for me. But there's no +denying that I behaved disgracefully to—you know—and Dr. Ashton has +good reason to be incensed. Can he be bringing an action against me, and +is this visit in any way connected with it?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"Is it nonsense! I'm sure I've heard of their dressing-up these +serving-officers as clergymen, to entrap the unwary. Well, call it +nonsense, if you like. What of my suggestion in regard to Dr. Ashton?"</p> + +<p>Thomas Carr paused to consider. That it was most improbable in all +respects, he felt sure; next door to impossible.</p> + +<p>"The doctor is too respectable a man to do anything of the sort," he +answered. "He is high-minded, honourable, wealthy: there's no inducement +whatever. <i>No.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there may be one: that of punishing me by bringing my disgrace +before the world."</p> + +<p>"You forget that he would bring his daughter's name before it at the same +time. It is quite out of the range of possibility. The Ashtons are not +people to seek legal reparation for injury of this sort. But that your +fears are blinding you, you would never suspect them of being capable of +it."</p> + +<p>"The stranger is upstairs, my lord," interrupted Hedges, coming back to +the room. "I asked him what name, and he said your lordship would know +him when you saw him, and there was no need to give it."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon went upstairs, marshalled by the butler. Hedges was +resenting the mystery; very much on his master's account, a little on his +own, for it cannot be denied that he was given to curiosity. He threw +open the door of the little smoking-den, and in his loftiest, loudest, +most uncompromising voice, announced:</p> + +<p>"The gentleman, my lord."</p> + +<p>Then retired, and shut them in.</p> + +<p>Thomas Carr remained alone. He was not fond of wine, and did not +help himself during his host's absence. Five minutes, ten minutes, +half-an-hour, an hour; and still he was alone. At the end of the first +half-hour he began to think Val a long time; at the end of the hour he +feared something must have happened. Could he be quarrelling with the +mysterious stranger? Could he have forgotten him and gone out? Could +he—</p> + +<p>The door softly opened, and Lord Hartledon came in. Was it Lord +Hartledon? Thomas Carr rose from his chair in amazement and dread. It was +like him, but with some awful terror upon him. His face was of an ashy +whiteness; the veins of his brow stood out; his dry lips were drawn.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, Hartledon!" uttered Thomas Carr. "What is it? You look as +if you had been accused of murder."</p> + +<p>"I have been accused of it," gasped the unhappy man, "of worse than +murder. Ay, and I have done it."</p> + +<p>The words called up a strange confusion of ideas in the mind of Thomas +Carr. Worse than murder!</p> + +<p>"What is it?" cried he, aloud. "I am beginning to dream."</p> + +<p>"Will you stand by me?" rejoined Hartledon, his voice seeming to have +changed into something curiously hollow. "I have asked you before for +trifles; I ask you now in the extremity of need. Will you stand by me, +and aid me with your advice?"</p> + +<p>"Y—es," answered Mr. Carr, his excessive astonishment causing a +hesitation. "Where is your visitor?"</p> + +<p>"Upstairs. He holds a fearful secret, and has me in his power. Do you +come back with me, and combat with him against its betrayal."</p> + +<p>"A fearful secret!" was Thomas Carr's exclamation. "What brings you with +one?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon only groaned. "You will stand by me, Carr? Will you come +upstairs and do what you can for me?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready," replied Thomas Carr, quickly. "I will stand by you +now, as ever. But—I seem to be in a maze. Is it a true charge?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in so far as that—But I had better tell you the story," he broke +off, wiping his brow. "I must tell it you before you go upstairs."</p> + +<p>He linked his arm within his friend's, and drew him to the window. It +was broad daylight still, but gloomy there: the window had the pleasure +of reposing under the leads, and was gloomy at noon. Lord Hartledon +hesitated still. "Elster's folly!" were the words mechanically floating +in the mind of Thomas Carr.</p> + +<p>"It is an awful story, Carr; bad and wicked."</p> + +<p>"Let me hear it at once," replied Thomas Carr.</p> + +<p>"I am in danger of—of—in short, that person upstairs could have me +apprehended to-night. I would not tell you but that I must do so. I must +have advice, assistance; but you'll start from me when you hear it."</p> + +<p>"I will stand by you, whatever it may be. If a man has ever need of a +friend, it must be in his extremity."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon stood, and whispered a strange tale. It was anything but +coherent to the clear-minded barrister; nevertheless, as he gathered one +or two of its points he did start back, as Hartledon had foretold, and an +exclamation of dismay burst from his lips.</p> + +<p>"And you could <i>marry</i>—with this hanging over your head!"</p> + +<p>"Carr—"</p> + +<p>The butler came in with an interruption.</p> + +<p>"My lady wishes to know whether your lordship is going out with her +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night," answered Lord Hartledon, pointing to the door for the man +to make his exit. "It is of her I think, not of myself," he murmured to +Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"And he"—the barrister pointed above to indicate the +stranger—"threatens to have you apprehended on the charge?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what he threatens. <i>You</i> must deal with him, Carr; +I cannot. Let us go; we are wasting time."</p> + +<p>As they left the room to go upstairs Lady Hartledon came out of the +dining-room and crossed their path. She was deeply mortified at her +husband's bringing Mr. Carr to the house after what she had said; and +most probably came out at the moment to confront them with her haughty +and disapproving face. However that might have been, all other emotions +gave place to surprise, when she saw <i>their</i> faces, each bearing a livid +look of fear.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are well, Lady Hartledon," said Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>She would not see the offered hand, but swept onwards with a cold +curtsey, stopping just a moment to speak to her husband.</p> + +<p>"You are not going out with me, Lord Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot to-night, Maude. Business detains me."</p> + +<p>She passed up the stairs, vouchsafing no other word. They lingered a +minute to let her get into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Poor Maude! What will become of her if this is brought home to me?"</p> + +<p>"And if it is not brought home to you—the fact remains the same," said +Mr. Carr, in his merciless truth.</p> + +<p>"And our children, our children!" groaned Hartledon, a hot flush of dread +arising in his white face.</p> + +<p>They shut themselves in with the stranger, and the conference was +renewed. Presently lights were rung for; Hedges brought them himself, +but gained nothing by the movement; for Mr. Carr heard him coming, rose +unbidden, and took them from him at the door.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon's curiosity was excited. It had been aroused a little by +the stranger himself; secondly by their scared faces; thirdly by this +close conference.</p> + +<p>"Who is that strange gentleman, Hedges?" she asked, from the +drawing-room, as the butler descended.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, my lady."</p> + +<p>"What is his name?"</p> + +<p>"I have not heard it, my lady."</p> + +<p>"He looks like a clergyman."</p> + +<p>"He does, my lady."</p> + +<p>Apparently Hedges was impenetrable, and she allowed him to go down. Her +curiosity was very much excited; it may be said, uneasily excited; there +is no accounting for these instincts that come over us, shadowing forth +a vague sense of dread. Although engaged out that night to more than one +place, Lady Hartledon lingered on in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>They came out of the room at last and passed the drawing-room door. She +pushed it to, only peeping out when they had gone by. There was nothing +to hear; they were talking of ordinary matters. The stranger, in his +strong Scotch accent, remarked what a hot day it had been. In travelling, +no doubt very, responded Mr. Carr. Lady Hartledon condescended to +cautiously put her head over the balustrades. There was no bell rung; +Lord Hartledon showed his visitor out himself.</p> + +<p>"And now for these criminal law books, Carr, that bear upon the case," he +said, returning from the front-door.</p> + +<p>"I must go down to my chambers for them."</p> + +<p>"I know they can't bring it home to me; I know they can't!" he exclaimed, +in tones so painfully eager as to prove to Lady Hartledon's ears that he +thought they could, whatever the matter might be. "I'll go with you, +Carr; this uncertainty is killing me."</p> + +<p>"There's little uncertainty about it, I fear," was the grave reply. "You +had better look the worst in the face."</p> + +<p>They went out, intending to hail the first cab. Very much to Lord +Hartledon's surprise he saw his wife's carriage waiting at the door, the +impatient horses chafing at their delay. What could have detained her? +"Wait for me one moment, Carr," he said. "Stop a cab if you see one."</p> + +<p>He dashed up to the drawing-room; his wife was coming forth then, her +cloak and gloves on, her fan in her hand. "Maude, my darling," he +exclaimed, "what has kept you? Surely you have not waited for me?—you +did not misunderstand me?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what has kept me," she evasively answered. "It is late, +but I'm going now."</p> + +<p>It never occurred to Lord Hartledon that she had been watching or +listening. Incapable of any meanness of the sort, he could not suspect it +in another. Lady Hartledon's fertile brain had been suggesting a solution +of this mystery. It was rather curious, perhaps, that her suspicions +should take the same bent that her husband's did at first—that of +instituting law proceedings by Dr. Ashton.</p> + +<p>She said nothing. Her husband led her out, placed her in the carriage, +and saw it drive away. Then he and the barrister got into a cab and went +to the Temple.</p> + +<p>"We'll take the books home with us, Carr," he said, feverishly. "You +often have fellows dropping in to your chambers at night; at my house we +shall be secure from interruption."</p> + +<p>It was midnight when Lady Hartledon returned home. She asked after her +husband, and heard that he was in the breakfast-room with Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>She went towards it with a stealthy step, and opened the door very +softly. Had Lord Hartledon not been talking, they might, however, have +heard her. The table was strewed with thick musty folios; but they +appeared to be done with, and Mr. Carr was leaning back in his chair with +folded arms.</p> + +<p>"I have had nothing but worry all my life," Val was saying; "but compared +with this, whatever has gone before was as nothing. When I think of +Maude, I feel as if I should go mad."</p> + +<p>"You must quietly separate from her," said Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>A slight movement. Mr. Carr stopped, and Lord Hartledon looked round. +Lady Hartledon was close behind him.</p> + +<p>"Percival, what is the matter?" she asked, turning her back on Mr. Carr, +as if ignoring his presence. "What bad news did that parson bring you?—a +friend, I presume, of Dr. Ashton's."</p> + +<p>They had both risen. Lord Hartledon glanced at Mr. Carr, the perspiration +breaking out on his brow. "It—it was not a parson," he said, in his +innate adherence to truth.</p> + +<p>"I ask <i>you</i>, Lord Hartledon," she resumed, having noted the silent +appeal to Mr. Carr. "It requires no third person to step between man and +wife. Will you come upstairs with me?"</p> + +<p>Words and manner were too pointed, and Mr. Carr hastily stacked the +books, and carried them to a side-table.</p> + +<p>"Allow these to remain here until to-morrow," he said to Lord Hartledon; +"I'll send my clerk for them. I'm off now; it's later than I thought. +Good-night, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>He went out unmolested; Lady Hartledon did not answer him; Val nodded his +good-night.</p> + +<p>"Are you not ashamed to face me, Lord Hartledon?" she then demanded. +"I overheard what you were saying."</p> + +<p>"Overheard what we were saying?" he repeated, gazing at her with a scared +look.</p> + +<p>"I heard that insidious man give you strange advice—'<i>you must quietly +separate from her</i>,' he said; meaning from me. And you listened +patiently, and did not knock him down!"</p> + +<p>"Maude! Maude! was that all you heard?"</p> + +<p>"<i>All!</i> I should think it was enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but—" He broke off, so agitated as scarcely to know what he was +saying. Rallying himself somewhat, he laid his hand upon the white cloak +covering her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Do not judge him harshly, Maude. Indeed he is a true friend to you and +to me. And I have need of one just now."</p> + +<p>"A true friend!—to advise that! I never heard of anything so monstrous. +You must be out of your mind."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not, Maude. Should—disgrace"—he seemed to hesitate for a +word—"fall upon me, it must touch you as connected with me. I <i>know</i>, +Maude, that he was thinking of your best and truest interests."</p> + +<p>"But to talk of separating husband and wife!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—well—I suppose he spoke strongly in the heat of the moment."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Lord Hartledon had his hand still on his wife's +shoulder, but his eyes were bent on the table near which they stood. She +was waiting for him to speak.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you, Maude, to-night," he answered, great drops coming out +again on his brow at the question, and knowing all the time that he +should never tell her. "I—I must learn more first."</p> + +<p>"You spoke of disgrace," she observed gently, swaying her fan before her +by its silken cord. "An ugly word."</p> + +<p>"It is. Heaven help me!"</p> + +<p>"Val, I do think you are the greatest simpleton under the skies!" she +exclaimed out of all patience, and flinging his hand off. "It's time you +got rid of this foolish sensitiveness. I know what is the matter quite +well; and it's not so very much of a disgrace after all! Those Ashtons +are going to make you pay publicly for your folly. Let them do it."</p> + +<p>He had opened his lips to undeceive her, but stopped in time. As a +drowning man catches at a straw, so did he catch at this suggestion in +his hopeless despair; and he suffered her to remain in it. Anything to +stave off the real, dreadful truth.</p> + +<p>"Maude," he rejoined, "it is for your sake. If I am sensitive as to +any—any disgrace being brought home to me, I declare that I think of +you more than of myself."</p> + +<p>"Then don't think of it. It will be fun for me, rather than anything +else. I did not imagine the Ashtons would have done it, though. I wonder +what damages they'll go in for. Oh, Val, I should like to see you in the +witness-box!"</p> + +<p>He did not answer.</p> + +<p>"And it was not a parson?" she continued. "I'm sure he looked as much +like one as old Ashton himself. A professional man, then, I suppose, +Val?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a professional man." But even that little answer was given with +some hesitation, as though it had evasion in it.</p> + +<p>Maude broke into a laugh. "Your friend, Pleader Carr—or whatever he +calls himself—must be as thin-skinned as you are, Val, to fancy that a +rubbishing action of that sort, brought against a husband, can reflect +disgrace on the wife! Separate, indeed! Has he lived in a wood all his +life? Well, I am going upstairs."</p> + +<p>"A moment yet, Maude! You will take a caution from me, won't you? Don't +speak of this; don't allude to it, even to me. It may be arranged yet, +you know."</p> + +<p>"So it may," acquiesced Maude. "Let your friend Carr see the doctor, and +offer to pay the damages down."</p> + +<p>He might have resented this speech for Dr. Ashton's sake, in a happier +moment, but resentment had been beaten out of him now. And Lady Hartledon +decided that her husband was a simpleton, for instead of going to sleep +like a reasonable man, he tossed and turned by her side until daybreak.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>SECRET CARE.</h3> + + +<p>From that hour Lord Hartledon was a changed man. He went about as one who +has some awful fear upon him, starting at shadows. That his manner was +inexplicable, even allowing that he had some great crime on his +conscience, a looker-on had not failed to observe. He was very tender +with his wife; far more so than he had been at all; anxious, as it +seemed, to indulge her every fancy, gratify her every whim. But when it +came to going into society with her, then he hesitated; he would and he +wouldn't, reminding Maude of his old vacillation, which indeed had seemed +to have been laid aside for ever. It was as though he appeared not to +know what to do; what he ought to do; his own wish or inclination having +no part in it.</p> + +<p>"Why <i>won't</i> you go with me?" she said to him angrily one day that he had +retracted his assent at the last moment. "Is it that you care so much for +Anne Ashton, that you don't care to be seen with me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maude! If you knew how little Anne Ashton is in my thoughts now! +When by chance I do think of her, it is to be thankful I did not marry +her," he added, in a tone of self-communing.</p> + +<p>Maude laughed a light laugh. "This movement of theirs is putting you out +of conceit of your old love, Val."</p> + +<p>"What movement?" he rejoined; and he would not have asked the question +had his thoughts not gone wool-gathering.</p> + +<p>"You are dreaming, Val. The action."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, to be sure."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard yet what damages they claim?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "You promised not to speak of this, Maude; even to +me."</p> + +<p>"Who is to help speaking of it, when you allow it to take your ease away? +I never in my life saw any one so changed as you are. I wish the thing +were over and done with, though it left you a few thousand pounds the +poorer. <i>Will</i> you accompany me to this dinner to-day? I am sick of +appearing alone and making excuses for you."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew what to do for the best—what my course ought to be!" +thought Hartledon within his conscience. "I can't bear to be seen with +her in public. When I face people with her on my arm, it seems as if they +must know what sort of man she, in her unconsciousness, is leaning upon."</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you to-day, Maude, as you press it. I was to have seen Mr. +Carr, but can send down to him."</p> + +<p>"Then don't be five minutes dressing: it is time we went."</p> + +<p>She heard him despatch a footman to the Temple with a message that he +should not be at Mr. Carr's chambers that evening; and she lay back in +her chair, waiting for him in her dinner-dress of black and white. They +were in mourning still for his brother. Lord Hartledon had not left it +off, and Maude had loved him too well to grumble at the delay.</p> + +<p>She had grown tolerant in regard to the intimacy with Mr. Carr. That her +husband should escape as soon and as favourably as possible out of the +dilemma in which he was plunged, she naturally wished; that he should +require legal advice and assistance to accomplish it, was only +reasonable, and therefore she tolerated the visits of Mr. Carr. She had +even gone so far one evening as to send tea in to them when he and Val +were closeted together.</p> + +<p>But still Lady Hartledon was not quite prepared to find Mr. Carr at +their house when they returned. She and Lord Hartledon went forth to +the dinner; the latter behaving as though his wits were in some far-off +hemisphere rather than in this one, so absent-minded was he. From the +dinner they proceeded to another place or two; and on getting home, +towards one in the morning, there was the barrister.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carr is waiting to see you, my lord," said Hedges, meeting them in +the passage. "He is in the dining-room."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carr! Now!"</p> + +<p>The hall-lamp shone full on his face as he spoke. He had been momentarily +forgetting care; was speaking gaily to his wife as they entered. She saw +the change that came over it; the look of fear, of apprehension, that +replaced its smile. He went into the dining-room, and she followed him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Carr!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr, bowing to Lady Hartledon, made a joke of the matter. "Having +waited so long, I thought I'd wait it out, Hartledon. As good be hung for +a sheep as a lamb, you know, and I have no wife sitting up for me at +home."</p> + +<p>"You had my message?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and that brought me here. I wanted just to say a word to you, as +I am going out of town to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"What will you take?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all. Hedges has been making me munificent offers, but I +declined them. I never take anything after dinner, except a cup of tea or +so, as you may remember, keeping a clear head for work in the morning."</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause. Lady Hartledon saw of course that she was <i>de +trop</i> in the conference; that Mr. Carr would not speak his "word" whilst +she was present. She had never understood why the matter should be kept +apart from her; and in her heart resented it.</p> + +<p>"You won't say to my husband before me what you have come to say, Mr. +Carr."</p> + +<p>It was strictly the truth, but the abrupt manner of bringing it home to +him momentarily took away Mr. Carr's power of repartee, although he was +apt enough in general, as became a special pleader.</p> + +<p>"You have had news from the Ashtons; that is, of their cause, and you +have come to tell it. I don't see why you and Lord Hartledon should so +cautiously keep everything from me."</p> + +<p>There was an eager look on Lord Hartledon's face as he stood behind his +wife. It was directed to Mr. Carr, and said as plainly as look could say, +"Don't undeceive her; keep up the delusion." But Thomas Carr was not so +apt at keeping up delusions at the expense of truth, and he only smiled +in reply.</p> + +<p>"What damages are they suing for?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Mr. Carr, with a laugh, and ready enough now: "ten thousand +pounds will cover it."</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand pounds!" she echoed. "Of course they won't get half of it. +In this sort of action—breach of promise—parties never get so much as +they ask for, do they?"</p> + +<p>"Not often."</p> + +<p>She laughed a little as she quitted the room. It was difficult to remain +longer, and it never occurred to her to suspect that any graver matter +than this action was in question.</p> + +<p>"Now, Carr?" began Lord Hartledon, seating himself near the table as he +closed the door after her, and speaking in low tones.</p> + +<p>"I received this letter by the afternoon mail," said Mr. Carr, taking one +from the safe enclosure of his pocket-book. "It is satisfactory, so far +as it goes."</p> + +<p>"I call it very satisfactory," returned Hartledon, glancing through it. +"I thought he'd listen to reason. What is done cannot be undone, and +exposure will answer no end. I wrote him an urgent letter the other day, +begging him to be silent for Maude's sake. Were I to expiate the past +with my life, it could not undo it. If he brought me to the bar of my +country to plead guilty or not guilty, the past would remain the same."</p> + +<p>"And I put the matter to him in my letter somewhat in the same light, +though in a more business-like point of view," returned Mr. Carr. "There +was no entreaty in mine. I left compassion, whether for you or others, +out of the argument; and said to him, what will you gain by exposure, and +how will you reconcile it to your conscience to inflict on innocent +persons the torture exposure must bring?"</p> + +<p>"I shall breathe freely now," said Hartledon, with a sigh of relief." +If that man gives his word not to stir in the matter, not to take +proceedings against me; in short, to bury what he knows in secrecy and +silence, as he has hitherto done; it will be all I can hope for."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr lifted his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"I perceive what you think: that the fact remains. Carr, I know it as +well as you; I know that <i>nothing</i> can alter it. Don't you see that +remorse is ever present with me? driving me mad? killing me by inches +with its pain?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know what I should be tempted to do, were the case mine?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Tell my wife."</p> + +<p>"Carr!"</p> + +<p>"I almost think I should; I am not quite sure. Should the truth ever come +to her—"</p> + +<p>"But I trust it never will come to her," interrupted Hartledon, his face +growing hot.</p> + +<p>"It's a delicate point to argue," acknowledged Mr. Carr, "and I cannot +hope to bring you into my way of looking at it. Had you married Miss +Ashton, it appears to me that you would have no resource but to tell +her: the very fact of being bound to you would kill a religious, +high-principled woman."</p> + +<p>"Not if she remained in ignorance."</p> + +<p>"There it is. Ought she to remain in ignorance?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon leaned his head on his hand as one faint and weary. +"Carr, it is of no use to go over all this ground again. If I disclose +the whole to Maude, how would it make it better for her? Would it not +render it a hundred times worse? She could not inform against me; it +would be contrary to human nature to suppose it; and all the result +would be, that she must go through life with the awful secret upon her, +rendering her days a hell upon earth, as it is rendering mine. It's true +she might separate from me; I dare say she would; but what satisfaction +would that bring her? No; the kinder course is to allow her to remain in +ignorance. Good Heavens! tell my wife! I should never dare do it!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr made no reply, and a pause ensued. In truth, the matter was +encompassed with difficulties on all sides; and the barrister could but +acknowledge that Val's argument had some sort of reason in it. Having +bound her to himself by marriage, it might be right that he should study +her happiness above all things.</p> + +<p>"It has put new life into me," Val resumed, pointing to the letter. "Now +that he has promised to keep the secret, there's little to fear; and I +know that he will keep his word. I must bear the burden as I best can, +and keep a smiling face to the world."</p> + +<p>"Did you read the postscript?" asked Mr. Carr; a feeling coming over him +that Val had not read it.</p> + +<p>"The postscript?"</p> + +<p>"There's a line or two over the leaf."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon glanced at it, and found it ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"You must be aware that another person knows of this besides myself. He +who was a witness at the time, and from whom <i>I</i> heard the particulars. +Of course for him I cannot answer, and I think he is in England. I allude +to G.G. Lord H. will know."</p></div> + +<p>"Lord H." apparently did know. He gazed down at the words with a knitted +brow, in which some surprise was mingled.</p> + +<p>"I declare that I understood him that night to say the fellow had died. +Did not you?"</p> + +<p>"I did," acquiesced Mr. Carr. "I certainly assumed it as a fact, until +this letter came to-day. Gordon was the name, I think?"</p> + +<p>"George Gordon."</p> + +<p>"Since reading the letter I have been endeavouring to recollect exactly +what he did say; and the impression on my mind is, that he spoke of +Gordon as being <i>probably</i> dead; not that he knew it for a certainty. +How I could overlook the point so as not to have inquired into it more +fully, I cannot imagine. But, you see, we were not discussing details +that night, or questioning facts: we were trying to disarm him—get him +not to proceed against you; and for myself, I confess I was so utterly +stunned that half my wits had left me."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"We must endeavour to ascertain where Gordon is," replied Mr. Carr, as +he re-enclosed the letter in his pocket-book. "I'll write and inquire +what <i>his</i> grounds are for thinking he is in England; and then trace him +out—if he is to be traced. You give me carte-blanche to act?"</p> + +<p>"You know I do, Carr."</p> + +<p>"All right."</p> + +<p>"And when you have traced him—what then?"</p> + +<p>"That's an after-question, and I must be guided by circumstances. And now +I'll wish you good-night," continued the barrister, rising. "It's a shame +to have kept you up; but the letter contains some consolation, and I knew +I could not bring it you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The drawing-room was lighted when Lord Hartledon went upstairs; and his +wife sat there with a book, as if she meant to remain up all night. She +put it down as he entered.</p> + +<p>"Are you here still, Maude! I thought you were tired when you came home."</p> + +<p>"I felt tired because I met no one I cared for," she answered, in rather +fractious tones. "Every one we know is leaving town, or has left."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's true."</p> + +<p>"I shall leave too. I don't mind if we go to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow!" he echoed. "Why, we have the house for three weeks longer."</p> + +<p>"And if we have? We are not obliged to remain in it."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon put back the curtain, and stood leaning out at the open +window, seeking a breath of air that hot summer's night, though indeed +there was none to be found; and if there had been, it could not have +cooled the brow's inward fever. The Park lay before him, dark and misty; +the lights of the few vehicles passing gleamed now and again; the hum of +life was dying out in the streets, men's free steps, careless voices. He +looked down, and wondered whether any one of those men knew what care +meant as <i>he</i> knew it; whether the awful skeleton, that never quitted +him night or day, could hold such place with another. He was Earl of +Hartledon; wealthy, young, handsome; he had no bad habits to hamper him; +and yet he would willingly have changed lots at hazard with any one of +those passers-by, could his breast, by so doing, have been eased of its +burden.</p> + +<p>"What are you looking at, Val?"</p> + +<p>His wife had come up and stolen her arm within his, as she asked the +question, looking out too.</p> + +<p>"Not at anything in particular," he replied, making a prisoner of her +hand. "The night's hot, Maude."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am getting tired of London!" she exclaimed. "It is always hot now; +and I believe I ought to be away from it."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"That letter I had this morning was from Ireland, from mamma. I told her, +when I wrote last, how I felt; and you never read such a lecture as she +gave me in return. She asked me whether I was mad, that I should be going +galvanizing about when I ought rather to be resting three parts of my +time."</p> + +<p>"Galvanizing?" said Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"So she wrote: she never waits to choose her words—you know mamma! +I suppose she meant to imply that I was always on the move."</p> + +<p>"Do you feel ill, Maude?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly ill; but—I think I ought to be careful. Percival," she +breathed, "mamma asked me whether I was trying to destroy the hope of an +heir to Hartledon."</p> + +<p>An ice-bolt shot through him at the reminder. Better an heir should never +be born, if it must call him father!</p> + +<p>"I fainted to-day, Val," she continued to whisper.</p> + +<p>He passed his arm round his wife's waist, and drew her closer to him. +Not upon her ought he to visit his sin: she might have enough to bear, +without coldness from him; rather should he be doubly tender.</p> + +<p>"You did not tell me about it, love. Why have you gone out this evening?" +he asked reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"It has not harmed me. Indeed I will take care, for your sake. I should +never forgive myself."</p> + +<p>"I have thought since we married, Maude, that you did not much care for +me."</p> + +<p>Maude made no immediate answer. She was looking out straight before her, +her head on his shoulder, and Lord Hartledon saw that tears were +glistening in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," she said at length; and as she spoke she felt very conscious +that she <i>was</i> caring for him. His gentle kindness, his many attractions +were beginning to tell upon her heart; and a vision of the possible +future, when she should love him, crossed her then and there as she +stood. Lord Hartledon bent his face, and let it rest on hers.</p> + +<p>"We shall be happy yet, Val; and I will be as good as gold. To begin +with, we will leave London at once. I ought not to remain, and I know you +have not liked it all along. It would have been better to wait until next +year, when we could have had our own house; only I was impatient. I felt +proud of being married; of being your wife—I did indeed, Val—and I was +in a fever to be amidst my world of friends. And there's a real +confession!" she concluded, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Any more?" he asked, laughing with her.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember any more just now. Which day shall we go? You shall +manage things for me now: I won't be wilful again. Shall the servants go +on first to Hartledon, or with us?"</p> + +<p>"To Hartledon!" exclaimed Val. "Is it to Hartledon you think of going?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," she said, standing up and looking at him in surprise. +"Where else should I go?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you wished to go to Germany!"</p> + +<p>"And so I did; but that would not do now."</p> + +<p>"Then let us go to the seaside," he rather eagerly said. "Somewhere in +England."</p> + +<p>"No, I would rather go to Hartledon. In one's own home rest and comfort +can be insured; and I believe I require them. Don't you wish to go +there?" she added, watching his perplexed face.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. The truth is, I cannot go to Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Is it because you do not care to face the Ashtons? I see! You would like +to have this business settled first."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon hardly heard the words, as he stood leaning against the +open casement, gazing into the dark and misty past. No man ever shrank +from a prison as he shrank from Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave London at all just yet. Thomas Carr is remaining here for +me, when he ought to be on circuit, and I must stay with him. I wish you +would go anywhere else, rather than to Hartledon."</p> + +<p>The tone was so painfully earnest, that a momentary suspicion crossed her +of his having some other motive. It passed away almost as it arose, and +she accused him of being unreasonable.</p> + +<p>Unreasonable it did appear to be. "If you have any real reason to urge +against Hartledon, tell it me," she said. But he mentioned none—save +that it was his "wish" not to go.</p> + +<p>And Lady Hartledon, rather piqued, gave the necessary orders on the +following day for the removal. No further confidential converse, or +approach to it, took place between her and her husband; but up to the +last moment she thought he would relent and accompany her. Nothing of the +sort. He was anxious for her every comfort on the journey, and saw her +off himself: nothing more.</p> + +<p>"I never thought you would allow me to go alone," she resentfully +whispered, as he held her hand after she was seated in the train.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "It is your fault, Maude. I told you I could not go to +Hartledon."</p> + +<p>And so she went down in rather an angry frame of mind. Many a time and +oft had she pictured to herself the triumph of their first visit to +Calne, the place where she had taken so much pains to win him: but the +arrival was certainly shorn of its glory.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>ASKING THE RECTOR.</h3> + + +<p>Perhaps Lady Hartledon had never in all her life been so much astonished +as when she reached Hartledon, for the first person she saw there was her +mother: her mother, whom she had believed to be in some remote district +of Ireland. For the moment she almost wondered whether it was really +herself or her ghost. The countess-dowager came flying down the steps—if +that term may be applied to one of her age and size—with rather +demonstrative affection; which, however, was not cordially received.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Maude? How you stare!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Is</i> it you, mamma? How <i>can</i> it be you?"</p> + +<p>"How can it be me?" returned the dowager, giving Maude's bonnet a few +kisses. "It <i>is</i> me, and that's enough. My goodness, Maude, how thin you +look! I see what it is! you've been killing yourself in that racketing +London. It's well I've come to take care of you."</p> + +<p>Maude went in, feeling that she could have taken care of herself, and +listening to the off-hand explanations of the countess-dowager. "Kirton +offended me," she said. "He and his wife are like two bears; and so I +packed up my things and came away at once, and got here straight from +Liverpool. And now you know."</p> + +<p>"And is Lady Kirton quite well again?" asked Maude, helplessly, knowing +she could not turn her mother out.</p> + +<p>"She'd be well enough but for temper. She <i>was</i> ill, though, when they +telegraphed for me; her life for three days and nights hanging on a +shred. I told that fool of a Kirton before he married her that she had no +constitution. I suppose you and Hart were finely disappointed to find I +was not in London when you got there."</p> + +<p>"Agreeably disappointed, I think," said Maude, languidly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! It's civil of you to say so."</p> + +<p>"On account of the smallness of the house," added Maude, endeavouring to +be polite. "We hardly knew how to manage in it ourselves."</p> + +<p>"You wrote me word to take it. As to me, I can accommodate myself to any +space. Where there's plenty of room, I take plenty; where there's not, I +can put up with a closet. I have made Mirrable give me my old rooms here: +you of course take Hart's now."</p> + +<p>"I am very tired," said Maude. "I think I will have some tea, and go to +bed."</p> + +<p>"Tea!" shrieked the dowager. "I have not yet had dinner. And it's +waiting; that's more."</p> + +<p>"You can dine without me, mamma," she said, walking upstairs to the new +rooms. The dowager stared, and followed her. There was an indescribable +something in Maude's manner that she did not like; it spoke of incipient +rebellion, of an influence that had been, but was now thrown off. If she +lost caste once, with Maude, she knew that she lost it for ever.</p> + +<p>"You could surely take a little dinner, Maude. You must keep up your +strength, you know."</p> + +<p>"Not any dinner, thank you. I shall be all right to-morrow, when I've +slept off my fatigue."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know I should like mine," grumbled the countess-dowager, feeling +her position in the house already altered from what it had been during +her former sojourn, when she assumed full authority, and ordered things +as she pleased, completely ignoring the new lord.</p> + +<p>"You can have it," said Maude.</p> + +<p>"They won't serve it until Hartledon arrives," was the aggrieved answer. +"I suppose he's walking up from the station. He always had a queer habit +of doing that."</p> + +<p>Maude lifted her eyes in slight surprise. Her solitary arrival was a +matter of fact so established to herself, that it sounded strange for any +one else to be in ignorance of it.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon has not come down. He is remaining in London."</p> + +<p>The old dowager peered at Maude through her little eyes. "What's that +for?"</p> + +<p>"Business, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me an untruth, Maude. You have quarrelled."</p> + +<p>"We have not quarrelled. We are perfectly good friends."</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to tell me that he sent you down alone?"</p> + +<p>"He sent the servants with me."</p> + +<p>"Don't be insolent, Maude. You know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma, I do not wish to be insolent. I can't tell you more, or +tell it differently. Lord Hartledon did not come down with me, and the +servants did."</p> + +<p>She spoke sharply. In her tired condition the petty conversation was +wearying her; and underlying everything else in her heart, was the +mortifying consciousness that he had <i>not</i> come down with her, chafing +her temper almost beyond repression. Considering that Maude did not +profess to love her husband very much, it was astonishing how keenly she +felt this.</p> + +<p>"Are you and Hartledon upon good terms?" asked the countess-dowager after +a pause, during which she had never taken her eyes from her daughter's +face.</p> + +<p>"It would be early days to be on any other."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the dowager. "And you did not write me word from Paris that +you found you had made a mistake, that you could not bear your husband! +Eh, Maude?"</p> + +<p>A tinge came into Maude's cheeks. "And you, mamma, told me that I was to +rule my husband with an iron hand, never allowing him to have a will of +his own, never consulting him! Both you and I were wrong," she continued +quietly. "I wrote that letter in a moment of irritation; and you were +assuming what has not proved to be a fact. I like my husband now quite +well enough to keep friends with him; his kindness to me is excessive; +but I find, with all my wish to rule him, if I had the wish, I could not +do it. He has a will of his own, and he exerts it in spite of me; and I +am quite sure he will continue to exert it, whenever he fancies he is in +the right. You never saw any one so changed from what he used to be."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean in asserting his own will. But he is changed in other ways. It +seems to me that he has never been quite the same man since that night in +the chapel. He has been more thoughtful; and all the old vacillation is +gone."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager could not understand at all; neither did she +believe; and she only stared at Maude.</p> + +<p>"His <i>not</i> coming down with me is a proof that he exercises his own will +now. I wished him to come very much, and he knew it; but you see he has +not done so."</p> + +<p>"And what do you say is keeping him?" repeated the countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"Business—"</p> + +<p>"Ah," interrupted the dowager, before Maude could finish, "that's the +general excuse. Always suspect it, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Suspect what?" asked Maude.</p> + +<p>"When a man says that, and gets his wife out of the way with it, rely +upon it he is pursuing some nice little interests of his own."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon understood the implication; she felt nettled, and a flush +rose to her face. In her husband's loyalty (always excepting his feeling +towards Miss Ashton) she rested fully assured.</p> + +<p>"You did not allow me to finish," was the cold rejoinder. "Business <i>is</i> +keeping him in town, for one thing; for another, I think he cannot get +over his dislike to face the Ashtons."</p> + +<p>"Rubbish!" cried the wrathful dowager. "He does not tell you what the +business is, does he?" she cynically added.</p> + +<p>"I happen to know," answered Maude. "The Ashtons are bringing an action +against him for breach of promise; and he and Mr. Carr the barrister are +trying to arrange it without its coming to a trial."</p> + +<p>The old lady opened her eyes and her mouth.</p> + +<p>"It is true. They lay the damages at ten thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>With a shriek the countess-dowager began to dance. Ten thousand pounds! +Ten thousand pounds would keep her for ever, invested at good interest. +She called the parson some unworthy names.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give you any of the details," said Maude, in answer to the +questions pressed upon her. "Percival will never speak of it, or allow +me to do so. I learnt it—I can hardly tell you how I learnt it—by +implication, I think; for it was never expressly told me. We had a +mysterious visit one night from some old parson—parson or lawyer; and +Percival and Mr. Carr, who happened to be at our house, were closeted +with him for an hour or two. I saw they were agitated, and guessed what +it was; Dr. Ashton was bringing an action. They could not deny it."</p> + +<p>"The vile old hypocrite!" cried the incensed dowager. "Ten thousand +pounds! Are you sure it is as much as that, Maude?"</p> + +<p>"Quite. Mr. Carr told me the amount."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you encourage that man to your house."</p> + +<p>"It was one of the things I stood out against—fruitlessly," was the +quiet answer. "But I believe he means well to me; and I am sure he is +doing what he can to serve my husband. They are often together about this +business."</p> + +<p>"<i>Of course</i> Hartledon resists the claim?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I think they are trying to compromise it, so that it shall +not come into court."</p> + +<p>"What does Hartledon think of it?"</p> + +<p>"It is worrying his life out. No, mamma, it is not too strong an +expression. He says nothing; but I can see that it is half killing him. +I don't believe he has slept properly since the news was brought to him."</p> + +<p>"What a simpleton he must be! And that man will stand up in the pulpit +to-morrow and preach of charity!" continued the dowager, turning her +animadversions upon Dr. Ashton. "You are a hypocrite too, Maude, for +trying to deceive me. You and Hartledon are <i>not</i> on good terms; don't +tell me! He would never have let you come down alone."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon would not reply. She felt vexed with her mother, vexed +with her husband, vexed on all sides; and she took refuge in her fatigue +and was silent.</p> + +<p>The dowager went to church on the following day. Maude would not go. The +hot anger flushed into her face at the thought of showing herself there +for the first time, unaccompanied by her husband: to Maude's mind it +seemed that she must look to others so very much like a deserted wife. +She comes home alone; he stays in London! "Ah, why did he not come down +only for this one Sunday, and go back again—if he must have gone?" she +thought.</p> + +<p>A month or two ago Maude had not cared enough for him to reason like +this. The countess-dowager ensconced herself in a corner of the Hartledon +state-pew, and from her blinking eyes looked out upon the Ashtons. Anne, +with her once bright face looking rather wan, her modest demeanour; Mrs. +Ashton, so essentially a gentlewoman; the doctor, sensible, clever, +charitable, beyond all doubt a good man—a feeling came over the mind of +the sometimes obtuse woman that of all the people before her they looked +the least likely to enter on the sort of lawsuit spoken of by Maude. But +never a doubt occurred to her that they <i>had</i> entered on it.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon remained at home, her prayer-book in her hand. She was +thinking she could steal out to the evening service; it might not be so +much noticed then, her being alone. Listlessly enough she sat, toying +with her prayer-book rather than reading it. She had never pretended to +be religious, had not been trained to be so; and reading a prayer-book, +when not in church, was quite unusual to her. But there are seasons in +a woman's life, times when peril is looked forward to, that bring thought +even to the most careless nature. Maude was trying to play at "being +good," and was reading the psalms for the day in an absent fashion, her +thoughts elsewhere; and the morning passed on. The quiet apathy of her +present state, compared with the restless fever which had stirred her +during her last sojourn at Hartledon, was remarkable.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there burst in upon her the countess-dowager: that estimable +lady's bonnet awry, her face scarlet, herself in a commotion.</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose you'd have done it, Maude! You might play tricks upon +other people, I think, but not upon your own mother."</p> + +<p>The interlude was rather welcome to Maude, rousing her from her apathy. +Not for some few moments, however, could she understand the cause of +complaint.</p> + +<p>It appeared that the countess-dowager, with that absence of all sense of +the fitness of things which so eminently characterized her, had joined +the Ashtons after service, inquiring with quite motherly solicitude after +Mrs. Ashton's health, complimenting Anne upon her charming looks; making +herself, in short, as agreeable as she knew how, and completely ignoring +the past in regard to her son-in-law. Gentlewomen in mind and manners, +they did not repulse her, were even courteously civil; and she graciously +accompanied them across the road to the Rectory-gate, and there took a +cordial leave, saying she would look in on the morrow.</p> + +<p>In returning she met Dr. Ashton. He was passing her with nothing but a +bow; but he little knew the countess-dowager. She grasped his hand; said +how grieved she was not to have had an opportunity of explaining away her +part in the past; hoped he would let bygones be bygones; and finally, +whilst the clergyman was scheming how to get away from her without +absolute rudeness, she astonished him with a communication touching the +action-at-law. There ensued a little mutual misapprehension, followed by +a few emphatic words of denial from Dr. Ashton; and the countess-dowager +walked away with a scarlet face, and an explosion of anger against her +daughter.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon was not yet callous to the proprieties of life; and the +intrusion on the Ashtons, which her mother confessed to, half frightened, +half shamed her. But the dowager's wrath at having been misled bore down +everything. Dr. Ashton had entered no action whatever against Lord +Hartledon; had never thought of doing it.</p> + +<p>"And you, you wicked, ungrateful girl, to come home to me with such an +invention, and cause me to start off on a fool's errand! Do you suppose I +should have gone and humbled myself to those people, but for hoping to +bring the parson to a sense of what he was doing in going-in for those +enormous damages?"</p> + +<p>"I have not come home to you with any invention, mamma. Dr. Ashton has +entered the action."</p> + +<p>"He has not," raved the dowager. "It is an infamous hoax you have played +off upon me. You couldn't find any excuse for your husband's staying in +London, and so invented this. What with you, and what with Kirton's +ingratitude, I shall be driven out of house and home!"</p> + +<p>"I won't say another word until you are calm and can talk common sense," +said Maude, leaning back in her chair, and putting down her prayer-book.</p> + +<p>"Common sense! What am I talking but common sense? When a child begins to +mislead her own mother, the world ought to come to an end."</p> + +<p>Maude took no notice.</p> + +<p>There happened to be some water standing on a table, and the dowager +poured out a tumblerful and drank it, though not accustomed to the +beverage. Untying her bonnet-strings she sat down, a little calmer.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll explain this at your convenience, Maude."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to explain," was the answer. "What I told you was the +truth. The action <i>has</i> been entered by the Ashtons."</p> + +<p>"And I tell you that the action has not."</p> + +<p>"I assure you that it has," returned Maude. "I told you of the evening we +first had notice of it, and the damages claimed; do you think I invented +that, or went to sleep and dreamt it? If Val has gone down once to that +Temple about it, he has gone fifty times. He would not go for pleasure."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager sat fanning herself quietly: for her daughter's +words were gaining ground.</p> + +<p>"There's a mistake somewhere, Maude, and it is on your side and not mine. +I'll lay my life that no action has been entered by Dr. Ashton. The man +spoke the truth; I can read the truth when I see it as well as anyone: +his face flushed with pain and anger at such a thing being said of him. +It may not be difficult to explain this contradiction."</p> + +<p>"Do you think not?" returned Maude, her indifference exciting the +listener to anger.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> should say Hartledon is deceiving you. If any action is entered +against him at all, it isn't that sort of action; or perhaps the young +lady is not Miss Ashton, but some other; he's just the kind of man to be +drawn into promising marriage to a dozen or two. Very clever of him to +palm you off with this tale: a man may get into five hundred troubles not +convenient to disclose to his wife."</p> + +<p>Except that Lady Hartledon's cheek flushed a little, she made no answer; +she held firmly—at least she thought she held firmly—to her own side +of the case. Her mother, on the contrary, adopted the new view, and +dismissed it from her thoughts accordingly.</p> + +<p>Maude went to church in the evening, sitting alone in the great pew, pale +and quiet. Anne Ashton was also alone; and the two whilom rivals, the +triumphant and the rejected, could survey each other to their heart's +content.</p> + +<p>Not very triumphant was Maude's feeling. Strange perhaps to say, the +suggestion of the old dowager, like instilled poison, was making its way +into her very veins. Her thoughts had been busy with the matter ever +since. One positive conviction lay in her heart—that Dr. Ashton, now +reading the first lesson before her, for he was taking the whole of the +service that evening, could not, under any circumstance, be guilty of a +false assertion or subterfuge. One solution of the difficulty presented +itself to her—that her mother, in her irascibility, had misunderstood +the Rector; and yet that was improbable. As Maude half sat, half lay back +in the pew, for the faint feeling was especially upon her that evening, +she thought she would give a great deal to set the matter at rest.</p> + +<p>When the service was over she took the more secluded way home; those of +the servants who had attended returning as usual by the road. On reaching +the turning where the three paths diverged, the faintness which had been +hovering over her all the evening suddenly grew worse; and but for a +friendly tree, she might have fallen. It grew better in a few moments, +but she did not yet quit her support.</p> + +<p>Very surprised was the Rector of Calne to come up and see Lady Hartledon +in this position. Every Sunday evening, after service, he went to visit +a man in one of the cottages, who was dying of consumption, and he was on +his way there now. He would have preferred to pass without speaking: but +Lady Hartledon looked in need of assistance; and in common Christian +kindness he could not pass her by.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Lady Hartledon. Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>She took his offered arm with her disengaged hand, as an additional +support; and her white face turned a shade whiter.</p> + +<p>"A sudden faintness overtook me. I am better now," she said, when able to +speak.</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me to walk on with you?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you; just a little way. If you will not mind it."</p> + +<p>That he must have understood the feeling which prompted the concluding +words was undoubted: and perhaps had Lady Hartledon been in possession +of her keenest senses, she might never have spoken them. Pride and health +go out of us together. Dr. Ashton took her on his arm, and they walked +slowly in the direction of the little bridge. Colour was returning to her +face, strength to her frame.</p> + +<p>"The heat of the day has affected you, possibly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, perhaps; I have felt faint at times lately. The church was very hot +to-night."</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said until the bridge was gained, and then Maude +released his arm.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Ashton, I thank you very much. You have been a friend in need."</p> + +<p>"But are you sure you are strong enough to go on alone? I will escort you +to the house if you are not."</p> + +<p>"Quite strong enough now. Thank you once again."</p> + +<p>As he was bowing his farewell, a sudden impulse to speak, and set the +matter that was troubling her at rest, came over her. Without a moment's +deliberation, without weighing her words, she rushed upon it; the +ostensible plea an apology for her mother's having spoken to him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I told Lady Kirton she was labouring under some misapprehension," +he quietly answered.</p> + +<p>"Will you forgive <i>me</i> also for speaking of it?" she murmured. "Since my +mother came home with the news of what you said, I have been lost in a +sea of conjecture: I could not attend to the service for dwelling upon +it, and might as well not have been in church—a curious confession to +make to you, Dr. Ashton. Is it indeed true that you know nothing of +the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton told me in so many words that I had entered an action +against Lord Hartledon for breach of promise, and laid the damages at ten +thousand pounds," returned Dr. Ashton, with a plainness of speech and a +cynical manner that made her blush. And she saw at once that he had done +nothing of the sort; saw it without any more decisive denial.</p> + +<p>"But the action has been entered," said Lady Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, madam. Lord Hartledon is, I should imagine, the only +man living who could suppose me capable of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"And you have <i>not</i> entered on it!" she reiterated, half bewildered by +the denial.</p> + +<p>"Most certainly not. When I parted with Lord Hartledon on a certain +evening, which probably your ladyship remembers, I washed my hands of him +for good, desiring never to approach him in any way whatever, never hear +of him, never see him again. Your husband, madam, is safe for me: I +desire nothing better than to forget that such a man is in existence."</p> + +<p>Lifting his hat, he walked away. And Lady Hartledon stood and gazed after +him as one in a dream.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>MR. CARR AT WORK.</h3> + + +<p>Thomas Carr was threading his way through the mazy precincts of Gray's +Inn, with that quick step and absorbed manner known only, I think, to the +busy man of our busy metropolis. He was on his way to make some inquiries +of a firm of solicitors, Messrs. Kedge and Reck, strangers to him in all +but name.</p> + +<p>Up some dark and dingy stairs, he knocked at a dark and dingy door: +which, after a minute, opened of itself by some ingenious contrivance, +and let him into a passage, whence he turned into a room, where two +clerks were writing at a desk.</p> + +<p>"Can I see Mr. Kedge?"</p> + +<p>"Not in," said one of the clerks, without looking up.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reck, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not in."</p> + +<p>"When will either of them be in?" continued the barrister; thinking that +if he were Messrs. Kedge and Reck the clerk would get his discharge for +incivility.</p> + +<p>"Can't say. What's your business?"</p> + +<p>"My business is with them: not with you."</p> + +<p>"You can see the managing clerk."</p> + +<p>"I wish to see one of the partners."</p> + +<p>"Could you give your name?" continued the gentleman, equably.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr handed in his card. The clerk glanced at it, and surreptitiously +showed it to his companion; and both of them looked up at him. Mr. Carr +of the Temple was known by reputation, and they condescended to become +civil.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat for a moment, sir," said the one. "I'll inquire how long Mr. +Kedge will be; but Mr. Reek's not in town to-day."</p> + +<p>A few minutes, and Thomas Carr found himself in a small square room with +the head of the firm, a youngish man and somewhat of a dandy, especially +genial in manner, as though in contrast to his clerk. He welcomed the +rising barrister.</p> + +<p>"There's as much difficulty in getting to see you as if you were Pope of +Rome," cried Mr. Carr, good humouredly.</p> + +<p>The lawyer laughed. "Hopkins did not know you: and strangers are +generally introduced to Mr. Reck, or to our managing clerk. What can +I do for you, Mr. Carr?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that you can do anything for me," said Mr. Carr, seating +himself; "but I hope you can. At the present moment I am engaged in +sifting a piece of complicated business for a friend; a private matter +entirely, which it is necessary to keep private. I am greatly interested +in it myself, as you may readily believe, when it is keeping me from +circuit. Indeed it may almost be called my own affair," he added, +observing the eyes of the lawyer fixed upon him, and not caring they +should see into his business too clearly. "I fancy you have a clerk, or +had a clerk, who is cognizant of one or two points in regard to it: can +you put me in the way of finding out where he is? His name is Gordon."</p> + +<p>"Gordon! We have no clerk of that name. Never had one, that I remember. +How came you to fancy it?"</p> + +<p>"I heard it from my own clerk, Taylor. One day last week I happened to +say before him that I'd give a five-pound note out of my pocket to get +at the present whereabouts of this man Gordon. Taylor is a shrewd +fellow; full of useful bits of information, and knows, I really believe, +three-fourths of London by name. He immediately said a young man of that +name was with Messrs. Kedge and Reck, of Gray's Inn, either as clerk, or +in some other capacity; and when he described this clerk of yours, I felt +nearly sure that it was the man I am looking for. I got Taylor to make +inquiries, and he did, I believe, of one of your clerks; but he could +learn nothing, except that no one of that name was connected with you +now. Taylor persists that he is or was connected with you; and so +I thought the shortest plan to settle the matter was to ask yourselves."</p> + +<p>"We have no clerk of that name," repeated Mr. Kedge, pushing back some +papers on the table. "Never had one."</p> + +<p>"Understand," said Mr. Carr, thinking it just possible the lawyer might +be mistaking his motives, "I have nothing to allege against the man, and +do not seek to injure him. The real fact is, that I do not want to see +him or to be brought into personal contact with him; I only want to know +whether he is in London, and, if so, where?"</p> + +<p>"I assure you he is not connected with us," repeated Mr. Kedge. "I would +tell you so in a moment if he were."</p> + +<p>"Then I can only apologise for having troubled you," said the barrister, +rising. "Taylor must have been mistaken. And yet I would have backed his +word, when he positively asserts a thing, against the world. I hardly +ever knew him wrong."</p> + +<p>Mr. Kedge was playing with the locket on his watch-chain, his head bent +in thought.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, Mr. Carr. I remember now that we took a clerk temporarily +into the office in the latter part of last year. His writing did not +suit, and we kept him only a week or two. I don't know what his name was, +but it might have been Gordon."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember what sort of a man he was?" asked Mr. Carr, somewhat +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I really do not. You see, I don't come much into contact with our +clerks. Reck does; but he's not here to-day. I fancy he had red hair."</p> + +<p>"Gordon had reddish hair."</p> + +<p>"You had better see Kimberly," said the solicitor, ringing a bell. "He is +our managing clerk, and knows everything."</p> + +<p>A grey-haired, silent-looking man came in with stooping shoulders. Mr. +Kedge, without any circumlocution, asked whether he remembered any clerk +of the name of Gordon having been in the house. Mr. Kimberly responded by +saying that they never had one in the house of the name.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought not," observed the principal. "There was one had in for +a short time, you know, while Hopkins was ill. I forget his name."</p> + +<p>"His name was Druitt, sir. We employed a man of the name of Gorton to do +some outdoor business for us at times," continued the managing clerk, +turning his eyes on the barrister; "but not lately."</p> + +<p>"What sort of business?"</p> + +<p>"Serving writs."</p> + +<p>"Gorton is not Gordon," remarked Mr. Kedge, with legal acumen. "By the +way, Kimberly, I have heard nothing of Gorton lately. What has become of +him?"</p> + +<p>"I have not the least idea, sir. We parted in a huff, so he wouldn't +perhaps be likely to come in my way again. Some business that he +mismanaged, if you remember, sir, down at Calne."</p> + +<p>"When he arrested one man for another," laughed the lawyer, "and got +entangled in a coroner's inquest, and I don't know what all."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr had pricked up his ears, scarcely daring to breathe. But his +manner was careless to a degree.</p> + +<p>"The man he arrested being Lord Hartledon; the man he ought to have +arrested being the Honourable Percival Elster," he interposed, laughing.</p> + +<p>"What! do you know about it?" cried the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"I remember hearing of it; I was intimate with Mr. Elster at the time."</p> + +<p>"He has since become Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But about this Gorton! I should not be in the least surprised if he +is the man I am inquiring for. Can you describe him to me, Mr. Kimberly?"</p> + +<p>"He is a short, slight man, under thirty, with red hair and whiskers."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr nodded.</p> + +<p>"Light hair with a reddish tinge it has been described to me. Do you +happen to be at all acquainted with his antecedents?"</p> + +<p>"Not I; I know nothing about, the man," said Mr. Kedge. "Kimberly does, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," dissented Kimberly. "He had been to Australia, I believe; and +that's all I know about him."</p> + +<p>"It is the same man," said Mr. Carr, quietly. "And if you can tell me +anything about him," he continued, turning to the older man, "I shall be +exceedingly obliged to you. To begin with—when did you first know him?"</p> + +<p>But at this juncture an interruption occurred. Hopkins the discourteous +came in with a card, which he presented to his principal. The gentleman +was waiting to see Mr. Kedge. Two more clients were also waiting, he +added, Thomas Carr rose, and the end of it was that he went with Mr. +Kimberly to his own room.</p> + +<p>"It's Carr of the Inner Temple," whispered Mr. Kedge in his clerk's ear.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know him, sir."</p> + +<p>"All right. If you can help him, do so."</p> + +<p>"I first knew Gorton about fifteen months ago," observed the clerk, when +they were shut in together. "A friend of mine, now dead, spoke of him to +me as a respectable young fellow who had fallen in the world, and asked +if I could help him to some employment. I think he told me somewhat of +his history; but I quite forget it. I know he was very low down then, +with scarcely bread to eat."</p> + +<p>"Did this friend of yours call him Gorton or Gordon?" interrupted Mr. +Carr.</p> + +<p>"Gorton. I never heard him called Gordon at all. I remember seeing a +book of his that he seemed to set some store by. It was printed in old +English, and had his name on the title-page: 'George Gorton. From his +affectionate father, W. Gorton.' I employed him in some outdoor work. +He knew London perfectly well, and seemed to know people too."</p> + +<p>"And he had been to Australia?"</p> + +<p>"He had been to Australia, I feel sure. One day he accidentally let slip +some words about Melbourne, which he could not well have done unless he +had seen the place. I taxed him with it, and he shuffled out of it with +some excuse; but in such a manner as to convince me he had been there."</p> + +<p>"And now, Mr. Kimberly, I am going to ask you another question. You spoke +of his having been at Calne; I infer that you sent him to the place on +the errand to Mr. Elster. Try to recollect whether his going there was +your own spontaneous act, or whether he was the original mover in the +journey?"</p> + +<p>The grey-haired clerk looked up as though not understanding.</p> + +<p>"You don't quite take me, I see."</p> + +<p>"Yes I do, sir; but I was thinking. So far as I can recollect, it was our +own spontaneous act. I am sure I had no reason to think otherwise at the +time. We had had a deal of trouble with the Honourable Mr. Elster; and +when it was found that he had left town for the family seat, we came to +the resolution to arrest him."</p> + +<p>Thomas Carr paused. "Do you know anything of Gordon's—or Gorton's doings +in Calne? Did you ever hear him speak of them afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I did particularly. The excuse he made to us for +arresting Lord Hartledon was, that the brothers were so much alike he +mistook the one for the other."</p> + +<p>"Which would infer that he knew Mr. Elster by sight."</p> + +<p>"It might; yes. It was not for the mistake that we discharged him; +indeed, not for anything at all connected with Calne. He did seem to have +gone about his business there in a very loose way, and to have paid less +attention to our interests than to the gossip of the place; of which +there was a tolerable amount just then, on account of Lord Hartledon's +unfortunate death. Gorton was set upon another job or two when he +returned; and one of those he contrived to mismanage so woefully, that +I would give him no more to do. It struck me that he must drink, or else +was accessible to a bribe."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr nodded his head, thinking the latter more than probable. His +fingers were playing with a newspaper which happened to lie on the +clerk's desk; and he put the next question with a very well-assumed air +of carelessness, as if it were but the passing thought of the moment.</p> + +<p>"Did he ever talk about Mr. Elster?"</p> + +<p>"Never but once. He came to my house one evening to tell me he had +discovered the hiding-place of a gentleman we were looking for. I was +taking my solitary glass of gin and water after supper, the only +stimulant I ever touch—and that by the doctor's orders—and I could not +do less than ask him to help himself. You see, sir, we did not look upon +him as a common sheriff's man: and he helped himself pretty freely. That +made him talkative. I fancy his head cannot stand much; and he began +rambling upon recent affairs at Calne; he had not been back above a week +then—"</p> + +<p>"And he spoke of Mr. Elster?"</p> + +<p>"He spoke a good deal of him as the new Lord Hartledon, all in a rambling +sort of way. He hinted that it might be in his power to bring home to him +some great crime."</p> + +<p>"The man must have been drunk indeed!" remarked Mr. Carr, with the most +perfect assumption of indifference; a very contrast to the fear that shot +through his heart. "What crime, pray? I hope he particularized it."</p> + +<p>"What he seemed to hint at was some unfair play in connection with his +brother's death," said the old clerk, lowering his voice. "'A man at his +wits' end for money would do many queer things,' he remarked."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr's eyes flashed. "What a dangerous fool he must be! You surely +did not listen to him!"</p> + +<p>"I, sir! I stopped him pretty quickly, and bade him sew up his mouth +until he came to his sober senses again. Oh, they make great simpletons +of themselves, some of these young fellows, when they get a little drink +into them."</p> + +<p>"They do," said the barrister. "Did he ever allude to the matter again?"</p> + +<p>"Never; and when I saw him the next day, he seemed ashamed of himself, +and asked if he had not been talking a lot of nonsense. About a fortnight +after that we parted, and I have never seen him since."</p> + +<p>"And you really do not know what has become of him?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I should think he has left London."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because had he remained in it he'd be sure to have come bothering me to +employ him again; unless, indeed, he has found some one else to do it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Carr, rising, "will you do me this favour? If you come +across the man again, or learn tidings of him in any way, let me know it +at once. I do not want him to hear of me, or that I have made inquiries +about him. I only wish to ascertain <i>where</i> he is, if that be possible. +Any one bringing me this information privately will find it well worth +his while."</p> + +<p>He went forth into the busy streets again, sick at heart; and upon +reaching his chambers wrote a note for a detective officer, and put some +business into his hands.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Lord Hartledon remained in London. When the term for which +they had engaged the furnished house was expired he took lodgings in +Grafton Street; and there he stayed, his frame of mind restless and +unsatisfactory. Lady Hartledon wrote to him sometimes, and he answered +her. She said not a word about the discovery she had made in regard to +the alleged action-at-law; but she never failed in every letter to ask +what he was doing, and when he was coming home—meaning to Hartledon. +He put her off in the best way he could: he and Carr were very busy +together, he said: as to home, he could not mention any particular time. +And Lady Hartledon bottled up her curiosity and her wrath, and waited +with what patience she possessed.</p> + +<p>The truth was—and, perhaps, the reader may have divined it—that graver +motives than the sensitive feeling of not liking to face the Ashtons were +keeping Lord Hartledon from his wife and home. He had once, in his +bachelor days, wished himself a savage in some remote desert, where his +civilized acquaintance could not come near him; he had a thousand times +more reason to wish himself one now.</p> + +<p>One dusty day, when the excessive heat of summer was on the wane, he went +down to Mr. Carr's chambers, and found that gentleman out. Not out for +long, the clerk thought; and sat down and waited. The room he was in +looked out on the cool garden, the quiet river; in the one there was not +a soul except Mr. Broom himself, who had gone in to watch the progress +of his chrysanthemums, and was stooping lovingly over the beds; on the +other a steamer, freighted with a straggling few, was paddling up the +river against the tide, and a barge with its brown sail was coming down +in all its picturesque charm. The contrast between this quiet scene and +the bustling, dusty, jostling world he had come in from, was grateful +even to his disturbed heart; and he felt half inclined to go round to +the garden and fling himself on the lawn as a man might do who was free +from care.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr indulged in the costly luxury of three rooms in the Temple; his +sitting-room, which was his work-room, a bedroom, and a little outer +room, the sanctum of his clerk. Lord Hartledon was in the sitting-room, +but he could hear the clerk moving about in the ante-room, as if he had +no writing on hand that morning. When tired of waiting, he called him in.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Taylor, how long do you think he will be? I've been dozing, I +think."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought he'd have been here before now, my lord. He generally +tells me if he is going out for any length of time; but he said nothing +to-day."</p> + +<p>"A newspaper would be something to while away one's time, or a book," +grumbled Hartledon. "Not those," glancing at a book-case full of +ponderous law-volumes.</p> + +<p>"Your lordship has taken the cream out of them already," remarked the +clerk, with a laugh; and Hartledon's brow knitted at the words. He had +"taken the cream" out of those old law-books, if studying them could do +it, for he had been at them pretty often of late.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Taylor's remarks had no ulterior meaning. Being a shrewd man, he +could not fail to suspect that Lord Hartledon was in a scrape of some +sort; but from a word dropped by his master he supposed it to involve +nothing more than a question of debt; and he never suspected that the +word had been dropped purposely. "Scamps would claim money twice over +when they could," said Mr. Carr; and Elster was a careless man, always +losing his receipts. He was a short, slight man, this clerk—in build +something like his master—with an intelligent, silent face, a small, +sharp nose, and fair hair. He had been born a gentleman, he was wont to +say; and indeed he looked one; but he had not received an education +commensurate with that fact, and had to make his own way in the world. +He might do it yet, perhaps, he remarked one day to Lord Hartledon; and +certainly, if steady perseverance could effect it, he would: all his +spare time was spent in study.</p> + +<p>"He has not gone to one of those blessed consultations in somebody's +chambers, has he?" cried Val. "I have known them last three hours."</p> + +<p>"I have known them last longer than that," said the clerk equably. "But +there are none on just now."</p> + +<p>"I can't think what has become of him. He made an appointment with me for +this morning. And where's his <i>Times</i>?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor could not tell where; he had been looking for the newspaper on +his own account. It was not to be found; and they could only come to the +conclusion that the barrister had taken it out with him.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd go out and buy me one," said Val.</p> + +<p>"I'll go with pleasure, my lord. But suppose any one comes to the door?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll answer it. They'll think Carr has taken on a new clerk."</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor laughed, and went out. Hartledon, tired of sitting, began +to pace the room and the ante-room. Most men would have taken their +departure; but he had nothing to do; he had latterly shunned that portion +of the world called society; and was as well in Mr. Carr's chambers as +in his own lodgings, or in strolling about with his troubled heart. +While thus occupied, there came a soft tap to the outer door—as was +sure to be the case, the clerk being absent—and Val opened it. A +middle-aged, quiet-looking man stood there, who had nothing specially +noticeable in his appearance, except a pair of deep-set dark eyes, under +bushy eyebrows that were turning grey.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carr within?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carr's not in," replied the temporary clerk. "I dare say you can +wait."</p> + +<p>"Likely to be long?"</p> + +<p>"I should think not. I have been waiting for him these two hours."</p> + +<p>The applicant entered, and sat down in the clerk's room. Lord Hartledon +went into the other, and stood drumming on the window-pane, as he gazed +out upon the Temple garden.</p> + +<p>"I'd go, but for that note of Carr's," he said to himself. "If—Halloa! +that's his voice at last."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr and his clerk had returned together. The former, after a few +moments, came in to Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"A nice fellow you are, Carr! Sending me word to be here at eleven +o'clock, and then walking off for two mortal hours!"</p> + +<p>"I sent you word to wait for me at your own home!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's good!" returned Val. "It said, 'Be here at eleven,' as +plainly as writing could say it."</p> + +<p>"And there was a postscript over the leaf telling you, on second thought, +<i>not</i> to be here, but to wait at home for me," said Mr. Carr. "I +remembered a matter of business that would take me up your way this +morning, and thought I'd go on to you. It's just your careless fashion, +Hartledon, reading only half your letters! You should have turned it +over."</p> + +<p>"Who was to think there was anything on the other side? Folk don't turn +their letters over from curiosity when they are concluded on the first +page."</p> + +<p>"I never had a letter in my life but I turned it over to make sure," +observed the more careful barrister. "I have had my walk for nothing."</p> + +<p>"And I have been cooling my heels here! And you took the newspaper with +you!"</p> + +<p>"No, I did not. Churton sent in from his rooms to borrow it."</p> + +<p>"Well, let the misunderstanding go, and forgive me for being cross. Do +you know, Carr, I think I am growing ill-tempered from trouble. What +news have you for me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you by-and-by. Do you know who that is in the other room?"</p> + +<p>"Not I. He seemed to stare me inside-out in a quiet way as I let him in."</p> + +<p>"Ay. It's Green, the detective. At times a question occurs to me whether +that's his real name, or one assumed in his profession. He has come to +report at last. Had you better remain?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr looked dubious.</p> + +<p>"You can make some excuse for my presence."</p> + +<p>"It's not that. I'm thinking if you let slip a word—"</p> + +<p>"Is it likely?"</p> + +<p>"Inadvertently, I mean."</p> + +<p>"There's no fear. You have not mentioned my name to him?"</p> + +<p>"I retort in your own words—Is it likely? He does not know why he is +being employed or what I want with the man I wish traced. At present he +is working, as far as that goes, in the dark. I might have put him on a +false scent, just as cleverly and unsuspiciously as I dare say he could +put me; but I've not done it. What's the matter with you to-day, +Hartledon? You look ill."</p> + +<p>"I only look what I am, then," was the answer. "But I'm no worse +than usual. I'd rather be transported—I'd rather be hanged, for that +matter—than lead the life of misery I am leading. At times I feel +inclined to give in, but then comes the thought of Maude."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>SOMEBODY ELSE AT WORK.</h3> + + +<p>They were shut in together: the detective officer, Mr. Carr, and Lord +Hartledon. "You may speak freely before this gentleman," observed Mr. +Carr, as if in apology for a third being present. "He knows the parties, +and is almost as much interested in the affair as I am."</p> + +<p>The detective glanced at Lord Hartledon with his deep eyes, but he did +not know him, and took out a note-book, on which some words and figures +were dotted down, hieroglyphics to any one's eyes but his own. Squaring +his elbows on the table, he begun abruptly; and appeared to have a habit +of cutting short his words and sentences.</p> + +<p>"Haven't succeeded yet as could wish, Mr. Carr; at least not altogether: +have had to be longer over it, too, than thought for. George Gordon: +Scotch birth, so far as can learn; left an orphan; lived mostly in +London. Served time to medical practitioner, locality Paddington. Idle, +visionary, loose in conduct, good-natured, fond of roving. Surgeon +wouldn't keep him as assistant; might have done it, he says, had G.G. +been of settled disposition: saw him in drink three times. Next turns +up in Scotland, assistant to a doctor there; name Mair, locality +Kirkcudbrightshire. Remained less than a year; left, saying was going +to Australia. So far," broke off the speaker, raising his eyes to Mr. +Carr's, "particulars tally with the information supplied by you."</p> + +<p>"Just so."</p> + +<p>"Then my further work began," continued Mr. Green. "Afraid what I've got +together won't be satisfactory; differ from you in opinion, at any rate. +G.G. went to Australia; no doubt of that; friend of his got a letter or +two from him while there: last one enclosed two ten-pound notes, borrowed +by G.G. before he went out. Last letter said been up to the diggings; +very successful; coming home with his money, mentioned ship he meant to +sail in. Hadn't been in Australia twelve months."</p> + +<p>"Who was the friend?" asked Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"Respectable man; gentleman; former fellow-pupil with Gordon in London; +in good practice for himself now; locality Kensington. After last letter, +friend perpetually looking out for G.G. G.G. did not make his appearance; +conclusion friend draws is he did not come back. Feels sure Gordon, +whether rich or poor, in ill-report or good-report, would have come +direct to him."</p> + +<p>"I happen to know that he did come back," said Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"Don't think it," was the unceremonious rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"I know it positively. And that he was in London."</p> + +<p>The detective looked over his notes, as if completely ignoring Mr. Carr's +words.</p> + +<p>"You heard, gentlemen, of that mutiny on board the ship <i>Morning Star</i>, +some three years ago? Made a noise at the time."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Ringleader was this same man, George Gordon."</p> + +<p>"No!" exclaimed Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"No reasonable doubt about it. Friend of his feels none: can't +understand how G.G. could have turned suddenly cruel; never was that. +Pooh! when men have been leading lawless lives in the bush, perhaps taken +regularly to drinking—which G.G. was inclined to before—they're ready +for any crime under the sun."</p> + +<p>"But how do you connect Gordon with the ringleader of that diabolical +mutiny?"</p> + +<p>"Easy enough. Same name, George Gordon: wrote to a friend the ship he was +coming home in—<i>Morning Star</i>. It <i>was</i> the same; price on G.G.'s head +to this day: shouldn't mind getting it. Needn't pother over it, sir; +'twas Gordon: but he'd never put his foot in London."</p> + +<p>"If true, it would account for his not showing himself to his +friend—assuming that he did come back," observed Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"Friend says not. Sure that G.G., whatever he might have been guilty of, +would go to him direct; knew he might depend on him in any trouble. A +proof, he argues, that G.G. never came back."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you he did come back," repeated the barrister. "Strange the +similarity of name never struck me," he added, turning to Lord Hartledon. +"I took some interest in that mutiny at the time; but it never occurred +to me to connect this man or his name with it. A noted name, at any rate, +if not a very common one."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon nodded. He had sat silent throughout, a little apart, his +face somewhat turned from them, as though the business did not concern +him.</p> + +<p>"And now I will relate to you what more I know of Gordon," resumed Mr. +Carr, moving his chair nearer the detective, and so partially screening +Lord Hartledon. "He was in London last year, employed by Kedge and Reck, +of Gray's Inn, to serve writs. What he had done with himself from the +time of the mutiny—allowing that he was identical with the Gordon of +that business—I dare say no one living could tell, himself excepted. He +was calling himself Gorton last autumn. Not much of a change from his own +name."</p> + +<p>"George Gorton," assented the detective.</p> + +<p>"Yes, George Gorton. I knew this much when I first applied to you. +I did not mention it because I preferred to let you go to work without +it. Understand me; that it is the same man, I <i>know</i>; but there are +nevertheless discrepancies in the case that I cannot reconcile; and I +thought you might possibly arrive at some knowledge of the man without +this clue better than with it."</p> + +<p>"Sorry to differ from you, Mr. Carr; must hold to the belief that George +Gorton, employed at Kedge and Reck's, was not the same man at all," came +the cool and obstinate rejoinder. "Have sifted the apparent similarity +between the two, and drawn conclusions accordingly."</p> + +<p>The remark implied that the detective was wiser on the subject of George +Gorton than Mr. Carr had bargained for, and a shadow of apprehension +stole over him. It was by no means his wish that the sharp detective and +the man should come into contact with each other; all he wanted was to +find out where he was at present, <i>not</i> that he should be meddled with. +This he had fully explained in the first instance, and the other had +acquiesced in his curt way.</p> + +<p>"You are thinking me uncommon clever, getting on the track of George +Gorton, when nothing on the surface connects him with the man wanted," +remarked the detective, with professional vanity. "Came upon it +accidentally; as well confess it; don't want to assume more credit than's +due. It was in this way. Evening following your instructions, had to see +managing clerk of Kedge and Reck; was engaged on a little matter for +them. Business over, he asked me if I knew anything of a man named George +Gorton, or Gordon—as I seemed to know something of pretty well +everybody. Having just been asked here about George Gordon, I naturally +connected the two questions together. Inquired of Kimberly <i>why</i> he +suspected his clerk Gorton should be Gordon; Kimberly replied he did not +suspect him, but a gentleman did, who had been there that day. This put +me on Gorton's track."</p> + +<p>"And you followed it up?"</p> + +<p>"Of course; keeping my own counsel. Took it up in haste, though; no +deliberation; went off to Calne, without first comparing notes with +Gordon's friend the surgeon."</p> + +<p>"To Calne!" explained Mr. Carr, while Lord Hartledon turned his head and +took a sharp look at the speaker.</p> + +<p>A nod was the only answer. "Got down; thought at first as you do, Mr. +Carr, that man was the same, and was on right track. Went to work in my +own way; was a countryman just come into a snug bit of inheritance, +looking out for a corner of land. Wormed out a bit here and a bit there; +heard this from one, that from another; nearly got an interview with my +Lord Hartledon himself, as candidate for one of his farms."</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon was not at Calne, I think," interrupted Mr. Carr, +speaking impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Know it now; didn't then; and wanted, for own purposes, to get a sight +of him and a word with him. Went to his place: saw a queer old creature +in yellow gauze; saw my lord's wife, too, at a distance; fine woman; got +intimate with butler, named Hedges; got intimate with two or three more; +altogether turned the recent doings of Mr. Gorton inside out."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mr. Carr, in his surprise.</p> + +<p>"Care to hear 'em?" continued the detective, after a moment's pause; and +a feeling crossed Mr. Carr, that if ever he had a deep man to deal with +it was this one, in spite of his apparent simplicity. "Gorton went down +on his errand for Kedge and Reck, writ in pocket for Mr. Elster; had +boasted he knew him. Can't quite make out whether he did or not; any +rate, served writ on Lord Hartledon by mistake. Lordship made a joke of +it; took up the matter as a brother ought; wrote himself to Kedge and +Reck to get it settled. Brothers quarrelled; day or two, and elder was +drowned, nobody seems to know how. Gorton stopped on, against orders from +Kimberly; said afterwards, by way of excuse, had been served with summons +to attend inquest. Couldn't say much at inquest, or <i>didn't</i>; was asked +if he witnessed accident; said 'No,' but some still think he did. Showed +himself at Hartledon afterwards trying to get interview with new lord; +new lord wouldn't see him, and butler turned him out. Gorton in a rage, +went back to inn, got some drink, said he might be able to <i>make</i> his +lordship see him yet; hinted at some secret, but too far gone to know +what he said; began boasting of adventures in Australia. Loose man there, +one Pike, took him in charge, and saw him off by rail for London."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Mr. Carr, for the speaker had stopped.</p> + +<p>"That's pretty near all as far as Gorton goes. Got a clue to an address +in London, where he might be heard of: got it oddly, too; but that's no +matter. Came up again and went to address; could learn nothing; tracked +here, tracked there, both for Gordon and Gorton; found Gorton disappeared +close upon time he was cast adrift by Kimberly. Not in London as far as +can be traced; where gone, can't tell yet. So much done, summed up my +experiences and came here to-day to state them."</p> + +<p>"Proceed," said Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>The detective put his note-book in his pocket, and with his elbows still +on the table, pressed his fingers together alternately as he stated his +points, speaking less abruptly than before.</p> + +<p>"My conclusion is—the Gordon you spoke to me about was the Gordon who +led the mutiny on board the <i>Morning Star</i>; that he never, after that, +came back to England; has never been heard of, in short, by any living +soul in it. That the Gorton employed by Kedge and Reck was another man +altogether. Neither is to be traced; the one may have found his grave in +the sea years ago; the other has disappeared out of London life since +last October, and I can't trace how or where."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr listened in silence. To reiterate that the two men were +identical, would have been waste of time, since he could not avow how +he knew it, or give the faintest clue. The detective himself had +unconsciously furnished a proof.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me your grounds for believing them to be different men?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the keen detective, "the shortest way would be for you to +give me your grounds for thinking them to be the same."</p> + +<p>"I cannot do it," said Mr. Carr. "It might involve—no, I cannot do it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suspected so. I don't mind mentioning one or two on my side. +The description of Gorton, as I had it from Kimberly, does not accord +with that of Gordon as given me by his friend the surgeon. I wrote out +the description of Gorton, and took it to him. 'Is this Gordon?' I +asked. 'No, it is not,' said he; and I'm sure he spoke the truth."</p> + +<p>"Gordon, on his return from Australia, might be a different-looking man +from the Gordon who went to it."</p> + +<p>"And would be, no doubt. But see here: Gorton was not disguised; Gordon +would not dare to be in London without being so; his head's not worth a +day's purchase. Fancy his walking about with only one letter in his name +altered! Rely upon it, Mr. Carr, you are mistaken; Gordon would no more +dare come back and put his head into the lion's mouth than you'd jump +into a fiery furnace. He couldn't land without being dropped upon: the +man was no common offender, and we've kept our eyes open. And that's +all," added the detective, after a pause. "Not very satisfactory, is it, +Mr. Carr? But, such as it is, I think you may rely upon it, in spite of +your own opinion. Meanwhile, I'll keep on the look-out for Gorton, and +tell you if he turns up."</p> + +<p>The conference was over, and Mr. Green took his departure. Thomas Carr +saw him out himself, returned and sat down in a reverie.</p> + +<p>"It's a curious tale," said Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking how the fact, now disclosed, of Gordon's being Gordon of +the mutiny, affects you," remarked Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"You believe him to be the same?"</p> + +<p>"I see no reason to doubt it. It's not probable that two George Gordons +should take their passage home in the <i>Morning Star</i>. Besides, it +explains points that seemed incomprehensible. I could not understand +why you were not troubled by this man, but rely upon it he has found it +expedient to go into effectual hiding, and dare not yet come out of it. +This fact is a very great hold upon him; and if he turns round on you, +you may keep him in check with it. Only let me alight on him; I'll so +frighten him as to cause him to ship himself off for life."</p> + +<p>"I don't like that detective's having gone down to Calne," remarked Lord +Hartledon.</p> + +<p>Neither did Mr. Carr, especially if Gordon, or Gorton, should have become +talkative, as there was reason to believe he had.</p> + +<p>"Gordon is in England, and in hiding; probably in London, for there's no +place where you may hide so effectually. One thing I am astonished at: +that he should show himself openly as George Gorton."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Carr," said Lord Hartledon, leaning forward; "I don't +believe, in spite of you and the detective, that Gordon, our Gordon, was +the one connected with the mutiny. I might possibly get a description +of that man from Gum of Calne; for his son was coming home in the same +ship—was one of those killed."</p> + +<p>"Who's Gum of Calne?"</p> + +<p>"The parish clerk, and a very respectable man. Mirrable, our housekeeper +whom you have seen, is related to them. Gum went to Liverpool at the +time, I know, and saw the remnant of the passengers those pirates had +spared; he was sure to hear a full description of Gordon. If ever I visit +Hartledon again I'll ask him."</p> + +<p>"If ever you visit Hartledon again!" echoed Mr. Carr. "Unless you leave +the country—as I advise you to do—you cannot help visiting Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Well, I would almost as soon be hanged!" cried Val. "And now, what do +you want me for, and why have you kept me here?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr drew his chair nearer to Lord Hartledon. They alone knew their +own troubles, and sat talking long after the afternoon was over. Mr. +Taylor came to the room; it was past his usual hour of departure.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I can go, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Not just yet," replied Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>Hartledon took out his watch, and wondered whether it had been galloping, +when he saw how late it was. "You'll come home and dine with me, Carr?"</p> + +<p>"I'll follow you, if you like," was the reply. "I have a matter or two to +attend to first."</p> + +<p>A few minutes more, and Lord Hartledon and his care went out. Mr. Carr +called in his clerk.</p> + +<p>"I want to know how you came to learn that the man I asked you about, +Gordon, was employed by Kedge and Reck?"</p> + +<p>"I heard it through a man named Druitt," was the ready answer. "Happening +to ask him—as I did several people—whether he knew any George Gordon, +he at once said that a man of that name was at Kedge and Reck's, where +Druitt himself had been temporarily employed."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Mr. Carr, remembering this same Druitt had been mentioned to +him. "But the man was called Gorton, not Gordon. You must have caught up +the wrong name, Taylor. Or perhaps he misunderstood you. That's all; you +may go now."</p> + +<p>The clerk departed. Mr. Carr took his hat and followed him down; but +before joining Lord Hartledon he turned into the Temple Gardens, and +strolled towards the river; a few moments of fresh air—fresh to those +hard-worked denizens of close and crowded London—seemed absolutely +necessary to the barrister's heated brain.</p> + +<p>He sat down on a bench facing the water, and bared his brow to the +breeze. A cool head, his; never a cooler brought thought to bear upon +perplexity; nevertheless it was not feeling very collected now. He could +not reconcile sundry discrepancies in the trouble he was engaged in +fathoming, and he saw no release whatever for Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"It has only complicated the affair," he said, as he watched the steamers +up and down, "this calling in Green the detective, and the news he +brings. Gordon the Gordon of the mutiny! I don't like it: the other +Gordon, simple enough and not bad-hearted, was easy to deal with in +comparison; this man, pirate, robber, murderer, will stand at nothing. We +should have a hold on him, it's true, in his own crime; but what's to +prevent his keeping himself out of the way, and selling Hartledon to +another? Why he has not sold him yet, I can't think. Unless for some +reason he is waiting his time."</p> + +<p>He put on his hat and began to count the barges on the other side, to +banish thought. But it would not be banished, and he fell into the train +again.</p> + +<p>"Mair's behaving well; with Christian kindness; but it's bad enough to be +even in <i>his</i> power. There's something in Lord Hartledon he 'can't help +loving,' he writes. Who can? Here am I, giving up circuit—such a thing +as never was heard of—calling him friend still, and losing my rest at +night for him! Poor Val! better he had been the one to die!"</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, could you tell us the time?"</p> + +<p>The spell was broken, and Mr. Carr took out his watch as he turned his +eyes on a ragged urchin who had called to him from below.</p> + +<p>The tide was down; and sundry Arabs were regaling their naked feet in the +mud, sporting and shouting. The evening drew in earlier than they did, +and the sun had already set.</p> + +<p>Quitting the garden, Mr. Carr stepped into a hansom, and was conveyed to +Grafton Street. He found Lord Hartledon knitting his brow over a letter.</p> + +<p>"Maude is growing vexed in earnest," he began, looking up at Mr. Carr. +"She insists upon knowing the reason that I do not go home to her."</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder at it. You ought to do one of two things: go, or—"</p> + +<p>"Or what, Carr?"</p> + +<p>"You know. Never go home again."</p> + +<p>"I wish I was out of the world!" cried the unhappy man.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>AT HARTLEDON.</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Hartledon</span>,</p> + +<p>"I wonder what you <i>think</i> of yourself, Galloping about <i>Rotten Row</i> with +women when your wife's <i>dying</i>. Of <i>course</i> it's not your fault that +reports of your goings-on <i>reach</i> her here oh dear no. You are a moddel +husband you are, sending her down here <i>out of the way</i> that you may take +your pleasure. Why did you <i>marry her</i>, nobody wanted you to she sits +and <i>mopes</i> and <i>weeps</i> and she's going into the same way that her father +<i>went</i>, you'll be glad no doubt to hear it it's what you're <i>aiming</i> at, +once she is in <i>Calne churchyard</i> the <i>field</i> will be open for your Anne +Ashton. I can tell you that if you've a spark of <i>propper feeling</i> +you'll come <i>down</i> for its killing her,</p> + +<p>"Your wicked mother,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">C. Kirton.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>Lord Hartledon turned this letter about in his hand. He scarcely noticed +the mistake at the conclusion: the dowager had doubtless intended to +imply that <i>he</i> was wicked, and the slip of the pen in her temper went +for nothing.</p> + +<p>Galloping about Rotten Row with women!</p> + +<p>Hartledon sent his thoughts back, endeavouring to recollect what could +have given rise to this charge. One morning, after a sleepless night, +when he had tossed and turned on his uneasy bed, and risen unrefreshed, +he hired a horse, for he had none in town, and went for a long ride. +Coming back he turned into Rotten Row. He could not tell why he did so, +for such places, affected by the gay, empty-headed votaries of fashion, +were little consonant to his present state. He was barely in it when a +lady's horse took fright: she was riding alone, with a groom following; +Lord Hartledon gave her his assistance, led her horse until the animal +was calm, and rode side by side with her to the end of the Row. He knew +not who she was; scarcely noticed whether she was young or old; and had +not given a remembrance to it since.</p> + +<p>When your wife's dying! Accustomed to the strong expressions of the +countess-dowager, he passed that over. But, "going the same way that her +father went;" he paused there, and tried to remember how her father did +"go." All he could recollect now, indeed all he knew at the time, was, +that Lord Kirton's last illness was reported to have been a lingering +one.</p> + +<p>Such missives as these—and the countess-dowager favoured him with more +than one—coupled with his own consciousness that he was not behaving +to his wife as he ought, took him at length down to Hartledon. That his +presence at the place so soon after his marriage was little short of an +insult to Dr. Ashton's family, his sensitive feelings told him; but his +duty to his wife was paramount, and he could not visit his sin upon her.</p> + +<p>She was looking very ill; was low-spirited and hysterical; and when she +caught sight of him she forgot her anger, and fell sobbing into his arms. +The countess-dowager had gone over to Garchester, and they had a few +hours' peace together.</p> + +<p>"You are not looking well, Maude!"</p> + +<p>"I know I am not. Why do you stay away from me?"</p> + +<p>"I could not help myself. Business has kept me in London."</p> + +<p>"Have <i>you</i> been ill also? You look thin and worn."</p> + +<p>"One does grow to look thin in heated London," he replied evasively, +as he walked to the window, and stood there. "How is your brother, +Maude—Bob?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk about Bob yet; I have to talk to you," she said. +"Percival, why did you practise that deceit upon me?"</p> + +<p>"What deceit?"</p> + +<p>"It was a downright falsehood; and made me look awfully foolish when +I came here and spoke of it as a fact. That action."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon made no reply. Here was one cause of his disinclination +to meet his wife—having to keep up the farce of Dr. Ashton's action. It +seemed, however, that there would no longer be any farce to keep up. Had +it exploded? He said nothing. Maude gazing at him from the sofa on which +she sat, her dark eyes looking larger than of yore, with hollow circles +round them, waited for his answer.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you mean, Maude."</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> know. You sent me down here with a tale that the Ashtons had +entered an action against you for breach of promise—damages, ten +thousand pounds—"</p> + +<p>"Stay an instant, Maude. I did not 'send you down' with the tale. +I particularly requested you to keep it private."</p> + +<p>"Well, mamma drew it out of me unawares. She vexed me with her comments +about your staying on in London, and it made me tell her why you had +stayed. She ascertained from Dr. Ashton that there was not a word of +truth in the story. Val, I betrayed it in your defence."</p> + +<p>He stood at the window in silence, his lips compressed.</p> + +<p>"I looked so foolish in the eyes of Dr. Ashton! The Sunday evening after +I came down here I had a sort of half-fainting-fit, coming home from +church. He overtook me, and was very kind, and gave me his arm. I said +a word to him; I could not help it; mamma had worried me on so; and I +learned that no such action had ever been thought of. You had no right +to subject me to the chance of such mortification. Why did you do so?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon came from the window and sat down near his wife, his elbow +on the table. All he could do now was to make the best of it, and explain +as near to the truth as he could.</p> + +<p>"Maude, you must not expect full confidence on this subject, for I cannot +give it you. When I found I had reason to believe that some—some legal +proceedings were about to be instituted against me, just at the first +intimation of the trouble, I thought it must emanate from Dr. Ashton. +You took up the same idea yourself, and I did not contradict it, simply +because I could not tell you the real truth—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she interrupted. "It was the night that stranger called at our +house, when you and Mr. Carr were closeted with him so long."</p> + +<p>He could not deny it; but he had been thankful that she should forget the +stranger and his visit. Maude waited.</p> + +<p>"Then it was an action, but not brought by the Ashtons?" she resumed, +finding he did not speak. "Mamma remarked that you were just the one to +propose to half-a-dozen girls."</p> + +<p>"It was not an action at all of that description; and I never proposed to +any girl except Miss Ashton," he returned, nettled at the remark.</p> + +<p>"Is it over?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite;" and there was some hesitation in his tone. "Carr is settling +it for me. I trust, Maude, you will never hear of it again—that it will +never trouble you."</p> + +<p>She sat looking at him with her wistful eyes.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me its nature?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you, Maude, believe me. I am as candid with you as it is +possible to be; but there are some things best—best not spoken of. +Maude," he repeated, rising impulsively and taking both her hands in his, +"do you wish to earn my love—my everlasting gratitude? Then you may do +it by nevermore alluding to this."</p> + +<p>It was a mistaken request; an altogether unwise emotion. Better that he +had remained at the window, and drawled out a nonchalant denial. But he +was apt to be as earnestly genuine on the surface as he was in reality. +It set Lady Hartledon wondering; and she resolved to "bide her time."</p> + +<p>"As you please, of course, Val. But why should it agitate you?"</p> + +<p>"Many a little thing seems to agitate me now," he answered. "I have not +felt well of late; perhaps that's the reason."</p> + +<p>"I think you might have satisfied me a little better. I expect it is some +enormous debt risen up against you."</p> + +<p>Better she should think so! "I shall tide it over," he said aloud. "But +indeed, Maude, I cannot bear for you delicate women to be brought into +contact with these things; they are fit for us only. Think no more about +it, and rely on me to keep trouble from you if it can be kept. Where's +Bob? He is here, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Bob's in his room. He is going into a way, I think. When he wrote and +asked me if I would allow him to come here for a little change, the +medical men saying he must have it, mamma sent a refusal by return of +post; she had had enough of Bob, she said, when he was here before. But +I quietly wrote a note myself, and Bob came. He looked ill, and gets +worse instead of better."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by saying he is going into a way?" asked Lord +Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Consumption, or something of that sort. Papa died of it. You are not +angry with me for having Bob?"</p> + +<p>"Angry! My dear Maude, the house is yours; and if poor Bob stayed with us +for ever, I should welcome him as a brother. Every one likes Bob."</p> + +<p>"Except mamma. She does not like invalids in the house, and has been +saying you don't like it; that it was helping to keep you away. Poor Bob +had out his portmanteau and began to pack; but I told him not to mind +her; he was my guest, not hers."</p> + +<p>"And mine also, you might have added."</p> + +<p>He left the room, and went to the chamber Captain Kirton had occupied +when he was at Hartledon in the spring. It was empty, evidently not being +used; and Hartledon sent for Mirrable. She came, looking just as usual, +wearing a dark-green silk gown; for the twelve-month had expired, and +their mourning was over.</p> + +<p>"Captain Kirton is in the small blue rooms facing south, my lord. They +were warmer for him than these."</p> + +<p>"Is he very ill, Mirrable?"</p> + +<p>"Very, I think," was the answer. "Of course he may get better; but it +does not look like it."</p> + +<p>He was a tall, thin, handsome man, this young officer—a year or two +older than Maude, whom he greatly resembled. Seated before a table, he +was playing at that delectable game "solitaire;" and his eyes looked +large and wild with surprise, and his cheeks became hectic, when Lord +Hartledon entered.</p> + +<p>"Bob, my dear fellow, I am glad to see you."</p> + +<p>He took his hands and sat down, his face full of the concern he did not +care to speak. Lady Hartledon had said he was going into a way; it was +evidently the way of the grave.</p> + +<p>He pushed the balls and the board from him, half ashamed of his +employment. "To think you should catch me at this!" he exclaimed. "Maude +brought it to me yesterday, thinking I was dull up here."</p> + +<p>"As good that as anything else. I often think what a miserably restless +invalid <i>I</i> should make. But now, what's wrong with you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose it's the heart."</p> + +<p>"The heart?"</p> + +<p>"The doctors say so. No doubt they are right; those complaints are +hereditary, and my father had it. I got quite unfit for duty, and they +told me I must go away for change; so I wrote to Maude, and she took me +in."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; we are glad to have you, and must try and get you well, Bob."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I can't tell about that. He died of it, you know."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"My father. He was ill for some time, and it wore him to a skeleton, so +that people thought he was in a decline. If I could only get sufficiently +well to go back to duty, I should not mind; it is so sad to give trouble +in a strange house."</p> + +<p>"In a strange house it might be, but it would be ungrateful to call this +one strange," returned Lord Hartledon, smiling on him from his pleasant +blue eyes. "We must get you to town and have good advice for you. I +suppose Hillary comes up?"</p> + +<p>"Every-day."</p> + +<p>"Does <i>he</i> say it's heart-disease?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he thinks it. It might be as much as his reputation is worth +to say it in this house."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"My mother won't have it said. She ignores the disease altogether, and +will not allow it to be mentioned, or hinted at. It's bronchitis, she +tells everyone; and of course bronchitis it must be. I did have a cough +when I came here: my chest is not strong."</p> + +<p>"But why should she ignore heart-disease?"</p> + +<p>"There was a fear that Maude would be subject to it when she was a child. +Should it be disclosed to her that it is my complaint, and were I to die +of it, she might grow so alarmed for herself as to bring it on; and +agitation, as we know, is often fatal in such cases."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon sat in a sort of horror. Maude subject to heart-disease! +when at any moment a certain fearful tale, of which he was the guilty +centre, might be disclosed to her! Day by day, hour by hour, he lived in +dread of this story's being brought to light. This little unexpected +communication increased that dread fourfold.</p> + +<p>"Have I shocked you?" asked Captain Kirton. "I may yet get the better of +it."</p> + +<p>"I believe I was thinking of Maude," answered Hartledon, slowly +recovering from his stupor. "I never heard—I had no idea that Maude's +heart was not perfectly sound."</p> + +<p>"And I don't know but that it is sound; it was only a fancy when she was +a child, and there might have been no real grounds for it. My mother is +full of crotchets on the subject of illness; and says she won't have +anything about heart-disease put into Maude's head. She is right, of +course, so far, in using precaution; so please remember that I am +suffering from any disorder but that," concluded the young officer with +a smile.</p> + +<p>"How did yours first show itself?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. I used to be subject to sudden attacks of faintness; but +I am not sure that they had anything to do with the disease itself."</p> + +<p>Just what Maude was becoming subject to! She had told him of a +fainting-fit in London; had told him of another now.</p> + +<p>"I suppose the doctors warn you against sudden shocks, Bob?"</p> + +<p>"More than against anything. I am not to agitate myself in the least; am +not to run or jump, or fly into a temper. They would put me in a glass +case, if they could."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll see what skill can do for you," said Hartledon, rousing +himself. "I wonder if a warmer climate would be of service? You might +have that without exertion, travelling slowly."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't afford it," was the ingenuous answer. "I have forestalled my +pay as it is."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon smiled. Never a more generous disposition than his; and if +money could save this poor Bob Kirton, he should not want it.</p> + +<p>Walking forth, he strolled down the road towards Calne, intending to ask +a question or two of the surgeon. Mr. Hillary was at home. His house was +at this end of Calne, just past the Rectory and opposite the church, with +a side view of Clerk Gum's. The door was open, and Lord Hartledon +strolled into the surgery unannounced, to the surprise of Mr. Hillary, +who did not know he was at Calne.</p> + +<p>The surgeon's opinion was not favourable. Captain Kirton had +heart-disease beyond any doubt. His chest was weak also, the lungs not +over-sound; altogether, the Honourable Robert Kirton's might be called +a bad life.</p> + +<p>"Would a warmer climate do anything for him?" asked Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>The surgeon shrugged his shoulders. "He would be better there for some +things than here. On the whole it might temporarily benefit him."</p> + +<p>"Then he shall go. And now, Hillary, I want to ask you something +else—and you must answer me, mind. Captain Kirton tells me the fact of +his having heart-disease is not mentioned in the house lest it should +alarm Lady Hartledon, and develop the same in her. Is there any fear of +this?"</p> + +<p>"It is true that it's not spoken of; but I don't think there's any +foundation for the fear."</p> + +<p>"The old dowager's very fanciful!" cried Lord Hartledon, resentfully.</p> + +<p>"A queer old—girl," remarked the surgeon. "Can't help saying it, though +she is your mother-in-law."</p> + +<p>"I wish she was any one else's! She's as likely as not to let out +something of this to Maude in her tantrums. But I don't believe a word +of it; I never saw the least symptom of heart-disease in my wife."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said the doctor. "Of course I have not examined her; neither +have I had much opportunity for ordinary observation."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would contrive to get the latter. Come up and call often; +make some excuse for seeing Lady Hartledon professionally, and watch her +symptoms."</p> + +<p>"I am seeing her professionally now; once or twice a week. She had one or +two fainting-fits after she came down, and called me in."</p> + +<p>"Kirton says he used to have those fainting-fits. Are they a symptom of +heart-disease?"</p> + +<p>"In Lady Hartledon I attribute them entirely to her present state of +health. I assure you, I don't see the slightest cause for fear as regards +your wife's heart. She is of a calm temperament too; as far as I can +observe."</p> + +<p>They stood talking for a minute at the door, when Lord Hartledon went +out. Pike happened to pass on the other side of the road.</p> + +<p>"He is here still, I see," remarked Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, yes; and likely to be."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how the fellow picks up a living?"</p> + +<p>The surgeon did not answer. "Are you going to make a long stay with us?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"A very short one. I suppose you have had no return of the fever?"</p> + +<p>"Not any. Calne never was more healthy than it is now. As I said to Dr. +Ashton yesterday, but for his own house I might put up my shutters and +take a lengthened holiday."</p> + +<p>"Who is ill at the Rectory? Mrs. Ashton?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ashton is not strong, but she's better than she was last year. +I have been more concerned for Anne than for her."</p> + +<p>"Is <i>she</i> ill?" cried Lord Hartledon, a spasm seizing his throat.</p> + +<p>"Ailing. But it's an ailing I do not like."</p> + +<p>"What's the cause?" he rejoined, feeling as if some other crime were +about to be brought home to him.</p> + +<p>"That's a question I never inquire into. I put it upon the air of the +Rectory," added the surgeon in jesting tones, "and tell them they ought +to go away for a time, but they have been away too much of late, they +say. She's getting over it somewhat, and I take care that she goes out +and takes exercise. What has it been? Well, a sort of inward fever, with +flushed cheeks and unequal spirits. It takes time for these things to +be got over, you know. The Rector has been anything but well, too; he +is not the strong, healthy man he was."</p> + +<p>"And all <i>my</i> work; my work!" cried Hartledon to himself, almost gnashing +his teeth as he went back down the street. "What <i>right</i> had I to upset +the happiness of that family? I wish it had pleased God to take me first! +My father used to say that some men seem born into the world only to be a +blight to it; it's what I have been, Heaven knows."</p> + +<p>He knew only too well that Anne Ashton was suffering from the shock +caused by his conduct. The love of these quiet, sensitive, refined +natures, once awakened, is not given for a day, but for all time; it +becomes a part of existence; and cannot be riven except by an effort that +brings destruction to even future hope of happiness. Not even Mr. +Hillary, not even Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, could discern the utter misery +that was Anne's daily portion. She strove to conceal it all. She went +about the house cheerfully, wore a smiling face when people were present, +dressed well, laughed with their guests, went about the parish to rich +and poor, and was altogether gay. Ah, do you know what it is, this +assumption of gaiety when the heart is breaking?—this dread fear lest +those about you should detect the truth? Have <i>you</i> ever lived with this +mask upon your face?—which can only be thrown off at night in the +privacy of your own chamber, when you may abandon yourself to your +desolation, and pray heaven to take you or give you increased strength to +<i>live</i> and <i>bear</i>? It may seem a light thing, this state of heart that I +am telling you about; but it has killed both men and women, for all that; +and killed them in silence.</p> + +<p>Anne Ashton had never complained. She did everything she had been used to +doing, was particular about all her duties; but a nervous cough attacked +her, and her frame wasted, and her cheek grew hectic. Try as she would +she could not eat: all she confessed to, when questioned by Mrs. Ashton, +was "a pain in her throat;" and Mr. Hillary was called in. Anne laughed: +there was nothing the matter with her, she said, and her throat was +better; she had strained it perhaps. The doctor was a wise doctor; his +professional visits were spent in gossip; and as to medicine, he sent her +a tonic, and told her to take it or not as she pleased. Only time, he +said to Mrs. Ashton—she would be all right in time; the summer heat was +making her languid.</p> + +<p>The summer heat had nearly passed now, and perhaps some of the battle was +passing with it. None knew—let me repeat it—what that battle had been; +none ever can know, unless they go through it themselves. In Miss +Ashton's case there was a feature some are spared—her love had been +known—and it increased the anguish tenfold. She would overcome it if she +could only forget him; but it would take time; and she would come out of +it an altogether different woman, her best hope in life gone, her heart +dead.</p> + +<p>"What brought him down here?" mentally questioned Mr. Hillary, in an +explosion of wrath, as he watched his visitor down the street. "It will +undo all I have been doing. He, and his wife too, might have had the +grace to keep away for this year at least. I loved him once, with all his +faults; but I should like to see him in the pillory now. It has told on +him also, if I'm any reader of looks. And now, Miss Anne, you go off from +Calne to-morrow an I can prevail. I only hope you won't come across him +in the meantime."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>UNDER THE TREES.</h3> + + +<p>It was the same noble-looking man Calne had 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Take care," he lazily said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Mrs. Gum?"</p> + +<p>She had not heard him enter, and started at the salutation. Lord +Hartledon laughed.</p> + +<p>"Don't take me for a housebreaker. Your front-door was open, and I came +in without knocking. Is your husband at home?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum dusted a large old-fashioned oak chair with her apron; but he +perched himself on one of its elbows.</p> + +<p>"And now go on with your tea, Mrs. Gum, and I'll look on with all the +envy of a thirsty man."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum glanced up tremblingly. Might she dare offer his lordship a cup? +She wouldn't make so bold but tea <i>was</i> refreshing to a parched throat.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Always parched!" remarked Mrs. Gum. "Maybe you've a touch of fever, my +lord. Many folk get it at the close of summer."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>Morning Star</i>," +said Lord Hartledon, somewhat abruptly. "I mean the ringleader, Gordon. +Why—What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum had jumped up from her chair and began looking about the room. +The cat, or something else, had "rubbed against her legs."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum wiped her face, covered with drops of emotion.</p> + +<p>"Gordon never did come back, I am sure, sir," she said, forgetting all +about titles in her trepidation.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>know</i> it. I know he did."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me why you assert so confidently that Gordon did not come +back?"</p> + +<p>She could not tell, and she knew she could not.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Not very logical; but Lord Hartledon allowed for confusion of ideas +following on distress of mind.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"In London!" she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"He was in London last autumn, as I believe—living there."</p> + +<p>An expression of relief passed over her features that was quite +perceptible to Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are anxious to bring him to justice, Mrs. Gum?"</p> + +<p>"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, <i>don't</i> rake him up +again!"</p> + +<p>The wild, imploring accents quite startled Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But we don't know his abode, my lord," she rejoined in faint +remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>She put her fingers up to her brow, leaning her elbow on the table. He +could not help observing how the hand shook.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon could not avoid a smile. "That's no description at all."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Might I inquire your lordship's reasons for thinking that Gordon came +back?" he quietly asked, when Lord Hartledon had ceased.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 crouched down when Lord +Hartledon passed. He went back at once; and Pike put a bold face on the +matter, and stood up.</p> + +<p>"So you occupy your palace still, Pike?"</p> + +<p>"Such as it is. Yes."</p> + +<p>"I half-expected to find that Mr. Marris had turned you from it," +continued Lord Hartledon, alluding to his steward.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't do it, I expect, without your lordship's orders; and I don't +fancy you'll give 'em," was the free answer.</p> + +<p>"I think my brother would have given them, had he lived."</p> + +<p>"But he didn't live," rejoined Pike. "He wasn't let live."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, mystified by the words.</p> + +<p>Pike ignored the question. "'Twas nearly a smash," he said, looking at +the two carts now proceeding on their different ways. "That cart of +Floyd's is always in hot water; the man drinks; Floyd turned him off +once."</p> + +<p>The miller's cart was jogging up the road towards home, under convoy of +the offending driver; the boy, David Ripper, sitting inside on some empty +sacks, and looking over the board behind: looking very hard indeed, as it +seemed, in their direction. Mr. Pike appropriated the gaze.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may stare, young Rip!" he apostrophized, as if the boy could +hear him; "but you won't stare yourself out of my hands. You're the +biggest liar in Calne, but you don't mislead me."</p> + +<p>"Pike, when you made acquaintance with that man Gorton—you remember +him?" broke off Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Pike emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Did he make you acquainted with any of his private affairs?—his past +history?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word," answered Pike, looking still after the cart and the boy.</p> + +<p>"Were those fine whiskers of his false? that red hair?"</p> + +<p>Pike turned his head quickly. The question had aroused him.</p> + +<p>"False hair and whiskers! I never knew it was the fashion to wear them."</p> + +<p>"It may be convenient sometimes, even if not the fashion," observed Lord +Hartledon, his tone full of cynical meaning; and Mr. Pike surreptitiously +peered at him with his small light eyes.</p> + +<p>"If Gorton's hair was false, I never noticed it, that's all; I never saw +him without a hat, that I remember, except in that inquest-room."</p> + +<p>"Had he been to Australia?"</p> + +<p>Pike paused to take another surreptitious gaze.</p> + +<p>"Can't say, my lord. Never heard."</p> + +<p>"Was his name Gorton, or Gordon? Come, Pike," continued Lord Hartledon, +good-humouredly, "there's a sort of mutual alliance between you and me; +you did me a service once unasked, and I allow you to live free and +undisturbed on my ground. I think you <i>do</i> know something of this man; +it is a fancy I have taken up."</p> + +<p>"I never knew his name was anything but Gorton," said Pike carelessly; +"never heard it nor thought it."</p> + +<p>"Did you happen to hear him ever speak of that mutiny on board the +Australian ship <i>Morning Star</i>? You have heard of it, I daresay: a George +Gordon was the ringleader."</p> + +<p>If ever the cool impudence was suddenly taken out of a man, this question +seemed to take it out of Pike. He did not reply for some time; and when +he did, it was in low and humble tones.</p> + +<p>"My lord, I hope you'll pardon my rough thoughts and ways, which haven't +been used to such as you—and the sight of that boy put me up, for +reasons of my own. As to Gorton—I never did hear him speak of the thing +you mention. His name's Gorton, and nothing else, as far as I know; and +his hair's his own, for all I ever saw."</p> + +<p>"He did not give you his confidence, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, never. Not about himself nor anything else, past or present."</p> + +<p>"And did not let a word slip? As to—for instance, as to his having been +a passenger on board the <i>Morning Star</i> at the time of the mutiny?"</p> + +<p>Pike had moved away a step, and stood with his arms on the hurdles, his +head bent on them, his face turned from Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Gorton said nothing to me. As to that mutiny—I think I read something +about it in the newspapers, but I forget what. I was just getting up from +some weeks of rheumatic fever at the time; I'd caught it working in the +fields; and news don't leave much impression in illness. Gorton never +spoke of it to me. I never heard him say who or what he was; and I +couldn't speak more truly if your lordship offered to give me the shed +as a bribe."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Gorton might be found at present?"</p> + +<p>"I swear before Heaven that I know nothing of the man, and have never +heard of him since he went away," cried Pike, with a burst of either fear +or passion. "He was a stranger to me when he came, and he was a stranger +when he left. I found out the little game he had come about, and saved +your lordship from his clutches, which he doesn't know to this day. I +know nothing else about him at all."</p> + +<p>"Well, good evening, Pike. You need not put yourself out for nothing."</p> + +<p>He walked away, taking leave of the man as civilly as though he had been +a respectable member of society. It was not in Val's nature to show +discourtesy to any living being. Why Pike should have shrunk from the +questions he could not tell; but that he did shrink was evident; perhaps +from a surly dislike to being questioned at all; but on the whole Lord +Hartledon thought he had spoken the truth as to knowing nothing about +Gorton.</p> + +<p>Crossing the road, he turned into the field-path near the Rectory; it was +a little nearer than the road-way, and he was in a hurry, for he had not +thought to ask at what hour his wife dined, and might be keeping her +waiting.</p> + +<p>Who was this Pike, he wondered as he went along; as he had wondered +before now. When the man was off his guard, the roughness of his speech +and demeanour was not so conspicuous; and the tone assumed a certain +refinement that seemed to say he had some time been in civilized society. +Again, how did he live? A tale was told in Calne of Pike's having been +disturbed at supper one night by a parcel of rude boys, who had seen him +seated at a luxurious table; hot steak and pudding before him. They were +not believed, certainly; but still Pike must live; and how did he find +the means to do so? Why did he live there at all? what had caused him to +come to Calne? Who—</p> + +<p>These reflections might have lasted all the way home but for an +interruption that drove every thought out of Lord Hartledon's mind, and +sent the heart's blood coursing swiftly through his veins. Turning a +corner of the dark winding path, he came suddenly upon a lady seated on a +bench, so close to the narrow path that he almost touched her in passing. +She seemed to have sat down for a moment to do something to her hat, +which was lying in her lap, her hands busied with it.</p> + +<p>A faint cry escaped her, and she rose up. It was caused partly by +emotion, partly by surprise at seeing him, for she did not know he was +within a hundred miles of the place. And very probably she would have +liked to box her own ears for showing any. The hat fell from her knees +as she rose, and both stooped for it.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said. "I fear I have startled you."</p> + +<p>"I am waiting for papa," she answered, in hasty apology for being found +there. And Lord Hartledon, casting his eyes some considerable distance +ahead, discerned the indistinct forms of two persons talking together. He +understood the situation at once. Dr. Ashton and his daughter had been to +the cottages; and the doctor had halted on their return to speak to a +day-labourer going home from his work, Anne walking slowly on.</p> + +<p>And there they stood face to face, Anne Ashton and her deceitful lover! +How their hearts beat to pain, how utterly oblivious they were of +everything in life save each other's presence, how tumultuously confused +were mind and manner, both might remember afterwards, but certainly were +not conscious of then. It was a little glimpse of Eden. A corner of the +dark curtain thrown between them had been raised, and so unexpectedly +that for the moment nothing else was discernible in the dazzling light.</p> + +<p>Forget! Not in that instant of sweet confusion, during which nothing +seemed more real than a dream. He was the husband of another; she was +parted from him for ever; and neither was capable of deliberate thought +or act that could intrench on the position, or tend to return, even +momentarily, to the past. And yet there they stood with beating hearts, +and eyes that betrayed their own tale—that the marriage and the parting +were in one sense but a hollow mockery, and their love was indelible as +of old.</p> + +<p>Each had been "forgetting" to the utmost of the poor power within, in +accordance with the high principles enshrined in either heart. Yet what +a mockery that forgetting seemed, now that it was laid before them naked +and bare! The heart turning sick to faintness at the mere sight of each +other, the hands trembling at the mutual touch, the wistful eyes shining +with a glance that too surely spoke of undying love!</p> + +<p>But not a word of this was spoken. However true their hearts might be, +there was no fear of the tongue following up the error. Lord Hartledon +would no more have allowed himself to speak than she to listen. Neither +had the hands met in ordinary salutation; it was only when he resigned +the hat to her that the fingers touched: a touch light, transient, almost +imperceptible; nevertheless it sent a thrill through the whole frame. Not +exactly knowing what to do in her confusion, Miss Ashton sat down on the +bench again and put her hat on.</p> + +<p>"I must say a word to you before I go on my way," said Lord Hartledon. +"I have been wishing for such a meeting as this ever since I saw you at +Versailles; and indeed I think I wished for nothing else before it. When +you think of me as one utterly heartless—"</p> + +<p>"Stay, Lord Hartledon," she interrupted, with white lips. "I cannot +listen to you. You must be aware that I cannot, and ought not. What are +you thinking about?"</p> + +<p>"I know that I have forfeited all right to ask you; that it is an +unpardonable intrusion my presuming even to address you. Well, perhaps, +you are right," he added, after a moment's pause; "it may be better that +I should not say what I was hoping to say. It cannot mend existing +things; it cannot undo the past. I dare not ask your forgiveness: it +would seem too much like an insult; nevertheless, I would rather have it +than any earthly gift. Fare you well, Anne! I shall sometimes hear of +your happiness."</p> + +<p>"Have you been ill?" she asked in a kindly impulse, noticing his altered +looks in that first calm moment.</p> + +<p>"No—not as the world counts illness. If remorse and shame and repentance +can be called illness, I have my share. Ill deeds of more kinds than one +are coming home to me. Anne," he added in a hoarse whisper; his face +telling of emotion, "if there is one illumined corner in my heart, where +all else is very dark, it is caused by thankfulness to Heaven that you +were spared."</p> + +<p>"Spared!" she echoed, in wonder, so completely awed by his strange manner +as to forget her reserve.</p> + +<p>"Spared the linking of your name with mine. I thank God for it, for your +sake, night and day. Had trouble fallen on you through me, I don't think +I could have survived it. May you be shielded from all such for ever!"</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly away, and she looked after him, her heart beating a +great deal faster than it ought to have done.</p> + +<p>That she was his best and dearest love, in spite of his marriage, it +was impossible not to see; and she strove to think him very wicked for +it, and her cheek was red with a feeling that seemed akin to shame. +But—trouble?—thankful for her sake, night and day, that her name was +not linked with his? He must allude to debt, she supposed: some of those +old embarrassments had augmented themselves into burdens too heavy to be +safely borne.</p> + +<p>The Rector was coming on now at a swift pace. He looked keenly at Lord +Hartledon; looked twice, as if in surprise. A flush rose to Val's +sensitive face as he passed, and lifted his hat. The Rector, dark and +proud, condescended to return the courtesy: and the meeting was over.</p> + +<p>Toiling across Lord Hartledon's path was the labourer to whom the Rector +had been speaking. He had an empty bottle slung over his shoulder, and +carried a sickle. The man's day's work was over, and had left fatigue +behind it.</p> + +<p>"Good-night to your lordship!"</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Ripper?"</p> + +<p>He was the father of the young gentleman in the cart, whom Mr. Pike had +not long before treated to his opinion: young David Ripper, the miller's +boy. Old Ripper, a talkative, discontented man, stopped and ventured to +enter on his grievances. His wife had been pledging things to pay for +a fine gown she had bought; his two girls were down with measles; his +son, young Rip, plagued his life out.</p> + +<p>"How does he plague your life out?" asked Lord Hartledon, when he had +listened patiently.</p> + +<p>"Saying he'll go off and enlist for a soldier, my lord; he's saying it +always: and means it too, only he's over-young for't."</p> + +<p>"Over-young for it; I should think so. Why, he's not much more than a +child. Our sergeants don't enlist little boys."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes he says he'll drown himself by way of a change," returned old +Ripper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, does he? Folk who say it never do it. I should whip it out of him."</p> + +<p>"He's never been the same since the lord's death that time. He's always +frightened: gets fancying things, and saying sometimes he sees his +shadder."</p> + +<p>"Whose shadow?"</p> + +<p>"His'n: the late lord's."</p> + +<p>"Why does he fancy that?" came the question, after a perceptible pause.</p> + +<p>Old Ripper shook his head. It was beyond his ken, he said. "There be only +two things he's afeared of in life," continued the man, who, though +generally called old Ripper, was not above five-and-thirty. "The one's +that wild man Pike; t'other's the shadder. He'd run ten mile sooner than +see either."</p> + +<p>"Does Pike annoy the boy?"</p> + +<p>"Never spoke to him, as I knows on, my lord. Afore that drowning of his +lordship last year, Davy was the boldest rip going," added the man, who +had long since fallen into the epithet popularly applied to his son. +"Since then he don't dare say his soul's his own. We had him laid up +before the winter, and I know 'twas nothing but fear."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon could not make much of the story, and had no time to +linger. Administering a word of general encouragement, he continued his +way, his thoughts going back to the interview with Anne Ashton, a line or +two of Longfellow's "Fire of Driftwood" rising up in his mind—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Of what had been and might have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who was changed, and who was dead."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>A TÊTE-À-TÊTE BREAKFAST.</h3> + + +<p>The Dowager-Countess of Kirton stood in the sunny breakfast-room at +Hartledon, surveying the well-spread table with complacency; for it +appeared to be rather more elaborately set out than usual, and no one +loved good cheer better than she. When she saw two cups and saucers on +the cloth instead of one, it occurred to her that Maude must, by caprice, +be coming down, which she had not done of late. The dowager had arrived +at midnight from Garchester, in consequence of having missed the earlier +train, and found nearly all the house in retirement. She was in a furious +humour, and no one had told her of the arrival of her son-in-law; no one +ever did tell her any more than they were obliged to do; for she was not +held in estimation at Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Potted tongue," she exclaimed, dodging round the table, and lifting +various covers. "Raised pie; I wonder what's in it? And what's that stuff +in jelly? It looks delicious. This is the result of the blowing-up I gave +Hedges the other day; nothing like finding fault. Hot dishes too. I +suppose Maude gave out that she should be down this morning. All rubbish, +fancying herself ill: she's as well as I am, but gives way like a +sim—A-a-a-ah!"</p> + +<p>The exclamation was caused by the unexpected vision of Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Lady Kirton?"</p> + +<p>"Where on earth did you spring from?"</p> + +<p>"From my room."</p> + +<p>"What's the good of your appearing before people like a ghost, Hartledon? +When did you arrive?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday afternoon."</p> + +<p>"And time you did, I think, with your poor wife fretting herself to death +about you. How is she this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" You must imagine this sound as something between a grunt and a +groan, that the estimable lady gave vent to whenever put out. It is not +capable of being written. "You might have sent word you were coming. I +should think you frightened your wife to death."</p> + +<p>"Not quite."</p> + +<p>He walked across the room and rang the bell. Hedges appeared. It had +been the dowager's pleasure that no one else should serve her at that +meal—perhaps on account of her peculiarities of costume.</p> + +<p>"Will you be good enough to pour out the coffee in Maude's place to-day, +Lady Kirton? She has promised to be down another morning."</p> + +<p>It was making her so entirely and intentionally a guest, as she thought, +that Lady Kirton did not like it. Not only did she fully intend Hartledon +House to be her home, but she meant to be its one ruling power. Keep +Maude just now to her invalid fancies, and later to her gay life, and +there would be little fear of her asserting very much authority.</p> + +<p>"Are you in the habit of serving this sort of breakfast, Hedges?" asked +Lord Hartledon; for the board looked almost like an elaborate dinner.</p> + +<p>"We have made some difference, my lord, this morning."</p> + +<p>"For me, I suppose. You need not do so in future. I have got out of the +habit of taking breakfast; and in any case I don't want this unnecessary +display. Captain Kirton gets up later, I presume."</p> + +<p>"He's hardly ever up before eleven," said Hedges. "But he makes a good +breakfast, my lord."</p> + +<p>"That's right. Tempt him with any delicacy you can devise. He wants +strength."</p> + +<p>The dowager was fuming. "Don't you think I'm capable of regulating these +things, Hartledon, I'd beg leave to ask?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt. I beg you will make yourself at home whilst you stay with us. +Some tea, Hedges."</p> + +<p>She could have thrown the coffee-pot at him. There was incipient defiance +in his every movement; latent war in his tones. He was no longer the +puppet he had been; that day had gone by for ever.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Val could not himself have explained the feeling that was this +morning at work within him. It was the first time he and the dowager had +met since the marriage, and she brought before him all too prominently +the ill-omened past: her unjustifiable scheming—his own miserable +weakness. If ever Lord Hartledon felt shame and repentance for his weak +yielding, he felt it now—felt it in all its bitterness; and something +very like rage against the dowager was bubbling up in his spirit, which +he had some trouble to suppress.</p> + +<p>He did suppress it, however, though it rendered him less courteous than +usual; and the meal proceeded partly in silence; an interchanged word, +civil on the surface, passing now and then. The dowager thoroughly +entered into her breakfast, and had little leisure for anything else.</p> + +<p>"What makes you take nothing?" she asked, perceiving at length that he +had only a piece of toast on his plate, and was playing with that.</p> + +<p>"I have no appetite."</p> + +<p>"Have you left off taking breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"To a great extent."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon slightly raised his eyebrows. "One can't eat much in the +heat of summer."</p> + +<p>"Heat of summer! it's nothing more than autumn now. And you are as thin +as a weasel. Try some of that excellent raised pie."</p> + +<p>"Pray let my appetite alone, Lady Kirton. If I wanted anything I should +take it."</p> + +<p>"Let you alone! yes, of course! You don't want it noticed that you are +out of sorts," snapped the dowager. "Oh, <i>I</i> know the signs. You've been +raking about London—that's what you've been at."</p> + +<p>The "raking about London" presented so complete a contrast to the lonely +life he had really passed, that Hartledon smiled in very bitterness. And +the smile incensed the dowager, for she misunderstood it.</p> + +<p>"It's early days to begin! I don't think you ought to have married +Maude."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I ought."</p> + +<p>She did not expect the rejoinder, and dropped her knife and fork. "Why +<i>did</i> you marry her?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you can tell that better than I."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager pushed up her hair.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to throw off the mask outright, and become a bad husband +as well as a neglectful one?"</p> + +<p>Val rose from his seat and went to the window, which opened to the +ground. He did not wish to quarrel with her if he could help it. Lady +Kirton raised her voice.</p> + +<p>"Staying away, as you have, in London, and leaving Maude here to pine +alone."</p> + +<p>"Business kept me in London."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it did!" cried the wrathful dowager. "If Maude died of ennui, +you wouldn't care. She can't go about much herself just now, poor thing! +I do wish Edward had lived."</p> + +<p>"I wish he had, with all my heart!" came the answer; and the tone struck +surprise on the dowager's ear—it was so full of pain. "Maude's coming to +Hartledon without me was her own doing," he remarked. "I wished her not +to come."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you did, as her heart was set upon it. The fact of her +wishing to do a thing would be the signal for your opposing it; I've +gathered that much. My advice to Maude is, to assert her own will, +irrespective of yours."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, Lady Kirton, that it may be as well if you let me and +my wife alone? We shall get along, no doubt, without interference; <i>with</i> +interference we might not do so."</p> + +<p>What with one thing and another, the dowager's temper was inflammable +that morning; and when it reached that undesirable state she was apt to +say pretty free things, even for her.</p> + +<p>"Edward would have made her the better husband."</p> + +<p>"But she didn't like him, you know!" he returned, his eyes flashing with +the remembrance of an old thought; and the countess-dowager took the +sentence literally, and not ironically.</p> + +<p>"Not like him. If you had had any eyes as Val Elster, you'd have seen +whether she liked him or not. She was dying for him—not for you."</p> + +<p>He made no reply. It was only what he had suspected, in a half-doubting +sort of way, at the time. A little spaniel, belonging to one of the +gardeners, ran up and licked his hand.</p> + +<p>"The time that I had of it!" continued the dowager. "But for me, Maude +never would have been forced into having you. And she <i>shouldn't</i> have +had you if I'd thought you were going to turn out like this."</p> + +<p>He wheeled round and faced her; his pale face working with emotion, but +his voice subdued to calmness. Lady Kirton's last words halted, for his +look startled even her in its resolute sternness.</p> + +<p>"To what end are you saying this, madam? You know perfectly well that +you almost moved heaven and earth to get me: <i>you</i>, I say; I prefer to +leave my wife's name out of this: and I fell into the snare. I have not +complained of my bargain; so far as I know, Maude has not done so: but +if it be otherwise—if she and you repent of the union, I am willing to +dissolve it, as far as it can be dissolved, and to institute measures for +living apart."</p> + +<p>Never, never had she suspected it would come to this. She sat staring at +him, her eyes round, her mouth open: scarcely believing the calm resolute +man before her could be the once vacillating Val Elster.</p> + +<p>"Listen whilst I speak a word of truth," he said, his eyes bent on her +with a strange fire that, if it told of undisguised earnestness, told +also of inward fever. "I married your daughter, and I am ready and +willing to do my duty by her in all honour, as I have done it since the +day of the marriage. Whatever my follies may have been as a young man, I +am at least incapable of wronging my wife as a married one. <i>She</i> has +had no cause to complain of want of affection, but—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a hypocrite!" interrupted the dowager, with a shriek. "And all +the time you've left her here neglected, while you were taking your +amusement in London! You've been dinner-giving and Richmond-going, and +theatre-frequenting, and card-playing, and race-horsing—and I shouldn't +wonder but you've been cock-fighting, and a hundred other things as +disreputable, and have come down here worn to a skeleton!"</p> + +<p>"But if she is discontented, if she does not care for me, as you would +seem to intimate," he resumed, passing over the attack without notice; +"in short, if Maude would be happier without me, I am quite willing, +as I have just said, to relieve her of her distasteful husband."</p> + +<p>"Of all the wicked plotters, you must be the worst! My darling +unoffending Maude! A divorce for her!"</p> + +<p>"We are neither of us eligible for a divorce," he coolly rejoined. "A +separation alone is open to us, and that an amicable one. Should it come +to it, every possible provision can be made for your daughter's comfort; +she shall retain this home; she shall have, if she wishes, a town-house; +I will deny her nothing."</p> + +<p>Lady Kirton rubbed her face carefully with her handkerchief. Not until +this moment had she believed him to be in earnest, and the conviction +frightened her.</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish to separate from her?" she asked, in a subdued tone.</p> + +<p>"I do not wish it. I said I was willing to do so if she wished it. You +have been taking pains to convince me that Maude's love was not mine, +that she was only forced into the marriage with me. Should this have been +the case, I must be distasteful to her still; an encumbrance she may wish +to get rid of."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager had overshot her mark, and saw it.</p> + +<p>"Oh well! Perhaps I was mistaken about the past," she said, staring at +him very hard, and in a sort of defiance. "Maude was always very close. +If you said anything about separation now, I dare say it would kill her. +My belief is, she does care for you, and a great deal more than you +deserve."</p> + +<p>"It may be better to ascertain the truth from Maude—"</p> + +<p>"You won't say a syllable to her!" cried the dowager, starting up +in terror. "She'd never forgive me; she'd turn me out of the house. +Hartledon, <i>promise</i> you won't say a word to her."</p> + +<p>He stood back against the window, never speaking.</p> + +<p>"She does love you; but I thought I'd frighten you, for you had no right +to send Maude home alone; and it made me very cross, because I saw how +she felt it. Separation indeed! What can you be thinking of?"</p> + +<p>He was thinking of a great deal, no doubt; and his thoughts were as +bitter as they could well be. He did not wish to separate; come what +might, he felt his place should be by his wife's side as long as +circumstances permitted it.</p> + +<p>"Let me give you a word of warning, Lady Kirton. I and my wife will be +happy enough together, I daresay, if we are allowed to be; but the style +of conversation you have just adopted to me will not conduce to it; it +might retaliate on Maude, you see. Do not again attempt it."</p> + +<p>"How you have changed!" was her involuntary remark.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am not the yielding boy I was. And now I wish to speak of your +son. He seems very ill."</p> + +<p>"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 <i>you</i> want?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Hedges hardly knew how to frame his words, and Lord Hartledon stared at +him.</p> + +<p>"Floyd can come to me here," he said.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Do you recognize it, my lord?" asked the miller.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," replied Lord Hartledon. "It belonged to my brother."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's very odd, my lord, but I found it buried."</p> + +<p>"Buried!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Those who buried it might have taken it out," he observed, following the +bent of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>"Would your lordship like to come and see the spot where I found it?" +asked the miller.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," she answered, after a pause, during which a +flush of surprise or emotion spread itself gradually over her face.</p> + +<p>"Nay, the question is plain. Have you any wish to separate from me?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought of such a thing. Separate from you! What can you mean?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>He turned his head sharply at a sudden sound, but it was only the French +clock on the mantelpiece striking eleven.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>She burst into tears. "Are you speaking at all for yourself? Do you wish +this?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then how can you be so cruel?"</p> + +<p>"I should have thought it unjustifiably cruel, but that it has been +suggested to me. Tell me the truth, Maude."</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What could mamma mean?" she asked. "I shall ask her."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"In anything," she eagerly said, raising her tearful eyes to his. "Ask me +anything."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, gladly! I will go with you anywhere."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But after all, it would have been a very moonlight sort of happiness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>ONCE MORE.</h3> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 mutiny: "a young, +slight man, with light eyes and fair hair." This did not answer exactly +to the Gorton who had played his part at Calne; but then, in regard to +the latter, there remained the suspicion that the red hair was false. +Whether it was the same man or whether it was two men—if the phrase may +be allowed—neither of them, to use Detective Green's expressive words, +turned up. And thus the months had passed on, with nothing special to +mark them. Captain Kirton had been conveyed abroad for the winter, and +they had good news of him; and the countess-dowager was inflicting a +visit upon one of her married daughters in Germany, the baroness with the +unpronounceable name.</p> + +<p>And the matter had nearly faded from the mind of Lady Hartledon. It would +quite have faded, but for certain interviews with Thomas Carr at his +chambers, when Hartledon's look of care precluded the idea that they +could be visits of mere idleness or pleasure; and for the secret trouble +that unmistakably sat on her husband like an incubus. At times he would +moan in his sleep as one in pain; but if told of this, had always some +laughing answer ready for her—he had dreamed he was fighting a lion or +being tossed by a bull.</p> + +<p>This was the pleasantest phase of Lady Hartledon's married life. Her +health did not allow of her entering into gaiety; and she and her husband +passed their time happily together. All her worst qualities seemed to +have left her, or to be dormant; she was yielding and gentle; her beauty +had never been so great as now that it was subdued; her languor was an +attraction, her care to please being genuine; and they were sufficiently +happy. They were in their town-house now, not having gone back to +Hartledon. A large, handsome house, very different from the hired one +they had first occupied.</p> + +<p>In January the baby was born; and Maude's eyes glistened with tears +of delight because it was a boy: a little heir to the broad lands of +Hartledon. She was very well, and it seemed that she could never tire +of fondling her child.</p> + +<p>But in the first few days succeeding that of the birth a strange fancy +took possession of her: she observed, or thought she observed, that her +husband did not seem to care for the child. He did not caress it; she +once heard him sighing over it; and he never announced it in the +newspapers. Other infants, heirs especially, could be made known to the +world, but not hers. The omission might never have come to her knowledge, +since at first she was not allowed to see newspapers, but for a letter +from the countess-dowager. The lady wrote in a high state of wrath from +Germany; she had looked every day for ten days in the <i>Times</i>, and saw no +chronicle of the happy event; and she demanded the reason. It afforded a +valve for her temper, which had been in an explosive state for some time +against Lord Hartledon, that ungracious son-in-law having actually +forbidden her his house until Maude's illness should be over; telling her +plainly that he would not have his wife worried. Lady Hartledon said +nothing for a day or two; she was watching her husband; watching for +signs of the fancy which had taken possession of her.</p> + +<p>He was in her room one dark afternoon, standing with his elbow on the +mantelpiece whilst he talked to her: a room of luxury and comfort it must +have been almost a pleasure to be ill in. Lady Hartledon had been allowed +to get up, and sit in an easy-chair: she seemed to be growing strong +rapidly; and the little red gentleman in the cradle, sleeping quietly, +was fifteen days old.</p> + +<p>"About his name, Percival; what is it to be?" she asked. "Your own?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, not mine," said he, quickly; "I never liked mine. Choose some +other, Maude."</p> + +<p>"What do you wish it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Anything."</p> + +<p>The short answer did not please the young mother; neither did the dreamy +tone in which it was spoken. "Don't you care what it is?" she asked +rather plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Not much, for myself. I wish it to be anything you shall choose."</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps you would have liked it named after your brother," she +said, very much offended on the baby's account.</p> + +<p>"George?"</p> + +<p>"George, no. I never knew George; I should not be likely to think of him. +Edward."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked at the fire, absently pushing back his hair. "Yes, +let it be Edward. It will do as well as anything else."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, Percival, one would think you had been having babies all +your life!" she exclaimed resentfully. "'Do as well as anything else!' If +he were our tenth son, instead of our first, you could not treat it with +more indifference. I have done nothing but deliberate on the name since +he was born; and I don't believe you have once given it a thought."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon turned his face upon her; and when illumined with a smile, +as now, it could be as bright as before care came to it. "I don't think +we men attach the importance to names in a general way that you do, +Maude. I shall like to have it Edward."</p> + +<p>"Edward William Algernon—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," as if the number alarmed him. "Pray don't have a string of +names: one's quite enough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," she returned, biting her lips. "William was your +father's name. Algernon is my eldest brother's: I supposed you might like +them. I thought," she added, after a pause, "we might ask Lord Kirton to +be its godfather."</p> + +<p>"I have decided on the godfathers already. Thomas Carr will be one, and +I intend to be the other."</p> + +<p>"Thomas Carr! A poor hard-working barrister, that not a soul knows, and +of no family or influence whatever, godfather to the future Lord +Hartledon!" uttered the offended mother.</p> + +<p>"I wish it, Maude. Carr is the most valued friend I have in the world, or +ever can have. Oblige me in this."</p> + +<p>"Then my brother can be the other."</p> + +<p>"No; I myself; and I wish you would be its godmother."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's quite reversing the order of things!" she said, tacitly +conceding the point.</p> + +<p>A silence ensued. The firelight played on the lace curtains of the baby's +bed, as it did on Lady Hartledon's face; a thoughtful face just now. +Twilight was drawing on, and the fire lighted the room.</p> + +<p>"Percival, do you care for the child?"</p> + +<p>The tone had a sound of passion in it, breaking upon the silence. Lord +Hartledon lifted his bent face and glanced at his wife.</p> + +<p>"Do I care for the child, Maude? What a question! I do care for him: more +than I allow to appear."</p> + +<p>And if her voice had passion in it, his had pain. He crossed the room, +and stood looking down on the sleeping baby, touching at length its cheek +with his finger. He could have knelt, there and then, and wept over the +child, and prayed, oh, how earnestly, that God would take it to Himself, +not suffer it to live. Many and many a prayer had ascended from his heart +in their earlier married days, that his wife might not bear him children; +for he could only entail upon them an inheritance of shame.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have once taken him in your arms, Percival; you never +kiss him. It's quite unnatural."</p> + +<p>"I give my kisses in the dark," he laughed, as he returned to where she +was sitting. And this was in a sense true; for once when he happened to +be alone for an instant with the baby, he had clasped it and kissed it in +a sort of delirious agony.</p> + +<p>"You never had it in the <i>Times</i>, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Never what?"</p> + +<p>"Never announced its birth in the <i>Times</i>. Did you forget it?"</p> + +<p>"It must have been very stupid of me," he remarked. "Never mind, Maude; +he won't grow the less for the omission. When are you coming downstairs?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma is in a rage about it; she says such neglect ought to be punished; +and she knows you have done it on purpose."</p> + +<p>"She is always in a rage with me, no matter what I do," returned Val, +good-humouredly. "She hoped to be here at this time, and sway us all—you +and me and the baby; and I stopped it. Ho, ho! young sir!"</p> + +<p>The baby had wakened with a cry, and a watchful attendant came gliding +in at the sound. Lord Hartledon left the room and went straight down to +the Temple to Mr. Carr's chambers. He found him in all the bustle of +departure from town. A cab stood at the foot of the stairs, and Mr. +Carr's laundress, a queer old body with an inverted black bonnet, was +handing the cabman a parcel of books.</p> + +<p>"A minute more and you'd have been too late," observed Mr. Carr, as Lord +Hartledon met him on the stairs, a coat on his arm.</p> + +<p>"I thought you did not start till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But I found I must go to-day. I can give you three minutes. Is it +anything particular?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon drew him into his room. "I have come to crave a favour, +Carr. It has been on my lips to ask you before, but they would not frame +the words. This child of mine: will you be its godfather with myself?"</p> + +<p>One moment's hesitation, quite perceptible to the sensitive mind of Lord +Hartledon, and then Mr. Carr spoke out bravely and cheerily.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will."</p> + +<p>"I see you hesitate: but I do not like to ask any one else."</p> + +<p>"If I hesitated, it was at the thought of the grave responsibility +attaching to the office. I believe I look upon it in a more serious light +than most people do, and have never accepted the charge yet. I will be +sponsor to this one with all my heart."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon clasped his hand in reply, and they began to descend +the stairs. "Poor Maude was dreaming of making a grand thing of the +christening," he said; "she wanted to ask Lord Kirton to come to it. +It will take place in about a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"Very well; I must run up for it, unless you let me stand by proxy. +I wish, Hartledon, you would hear me on another point," added the +barrister, halting on the stairs, and dropping his voice to a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"If you are to go away at all, now's the time. Can't you be seized with +an exploring fit, and sail to Africa, or some other place, where your +travels would occupy years?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon shook his head. "How can I leave Maude to battle alone +with the exposure, should it come?"</p> + +<p>"It is a great deal less likely to come if you are a few thousand miles +away."</p> + +<p>"I question it. Should Gorton turn up he is just the one to frighten a +defenceless woman, and purchase his own silence. No; my place is beside +Maude."</p> + +<p>"As you please. I have spoken for the last time. By the way, any letters +bearing a certain postmark, that come addressed to me during my absence, +Taylor has orders to send to you. Fare you well, Hartledon; I wish I +could help you to peace."</p> + +<p>Hartledon watched the cab rattle away, and then turned homewards. Peace! +There was no peace for him.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon was not to be thwarted on all points, and she insisted +on a ceremonious christening. The countess-dowager would come over for +it, and did so; Lord Hartledon could not be discourteous enough to deny +this; Lord and Lady Kirton came from Ireland; and for the first time +since their marriage they found themselves entertaining guests. Lord +Hartledon had made a faint opposition, but Maude had her own way. The +countess-dowager was furiously indignant when she heard of the intended +sponsors—its father and mother, and that cynical wretch, Thomas Carr! +Val played the hospitable host; but there was a shadow on his face that +his wife did not fail to see.</p> + +<p>It was the evening before the christening, and a very snowy evening +too. Val was dressing for dinner, and Maude, herself ready, sat by him, +her baby on her knee. The child was attired for the first time in a +splendidly-worked robe with looped-up sleeves; and she had brought it +in to challenge admiration for its pretty arms, with all the pardonable +pride of a young mother.</p> + +<p>"Won't you kiss it for once, Val?"</p> + +<p>He took the child in his arms; it had its mother's fine dark eyes, and +looked straight up from them into his. Lord Hartledon suddenly bent his +own face down upon that little one with what seemed like a gesture of +agony; and when he raised it his own eyes were wet with tears. Maude felt +startled with a sort of terror: love was love; but she did not understand +love so painful as this.</p> + +<p>She sat down with the baby on her knee, saying nothing; he did not intend +her to see the signs of emotion. And this brings us to where we were. +Lord Hartledon went on with his toilette, and presently someone knocked +at the door.</p> + +<p>Two letters: they had come by the afternoon post, very much delayed on +account of the snow. He came back to the gaslight, opening one. A full +letter, written closely; but he had barely glanced at it when he hastily +folded it again, and crammed it into his pocket. If ever a movement +expressed something to be concealed, that did. And Lady Hartledon was +gazing at him with her questioning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't that letter from Thomas Carr?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Is he coming up? Or is Kirton to be proxy?"</p> + +<p>"He is—coming, I think," said Val, evidently knowing nothing one way or +the other. "He'll be here, I daresay, to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>Opening the other letter as he spoke—a foreign-looking letter this +one—he put it up in the same hasty manner, with barely a glance; and +then went on slowly with his dressing.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you read your letters, Percival?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't time. Dinner will be waiting."</p> + +<p>She knew that he had plenty of time, and that dinner would not be +waiting; she knew quite certainly that there was something in both +letters she must not see. Rising from her seat in silence, she went out +of the room with her baby; resentment and an unhealthy curiosity doing +battle in her heart.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon slipped the bolt of the door and read the letters at once; +the foreign one first, over which he seemed to take an instant's counsel +with himself. Before going down he locked them up in a small ebony +cabinet which stood against the wall. The room was his own exclusively; +his wife had nothing to do with it.</p> + +<p>Had they been alone he might have observed her coolness to him; but, with +guests to entertain, he neither saw nor suspected it. She sat opposite +him at dinner richly dressed, her jewels and smiles alike dazzling: but +the smiles were not turned on him.</p> + +<p>"Is that chosen sponsor of yours coming up for the christening; lawyer +Carr?" tartly inquired the dowager from her seat, bringing her face and +her turban, all scarlet together, to bear on Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"He comes up by this evening's train; will be in London late to-night, if +the snow allows him, and stay with us until Sunday night," replied Val.</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>That's</i> no doubt the reason why you settled the christening for +Saturday: that your friend might have the benefit of Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"Just so, madam."</p> + +<p>And Lady Hartledon knew, by this, that her husband must have read the +letters. "I wonder what he has done with them?" came the mental thought, +shadowing forth a dim wish that she could read them too.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room, after dinner, someone proposed a carpet quadrille, +but Lord Hartledon seemed averse to it. In his wife's present mood, his +opposition was, of course, the signal for her approval, and she began +pushing the chairs aside with her own hands. He approached her quietly.</p> + +<p>"Maude, do not let them dance to-night."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I have a reason. My dear, won't you oblige me in this?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me the reason, and perhaps I will; not otherwise."</p> + +<p>"I will tell it you another time. Trust me, I have a good one. What is +it, Hedges?"</p> + +<p>The butler had come up to his master in the unobtrusive manner of a +well-trained servant, and was waiting an opportunity to speak. He said a +word in Lord Hartledon's ear, and Lady Hartledon saw a shiver of surprise +run through her husband. He looked here, looked there, as one perplexed +with fear, and finally went out of the room with a calm face, but one +that was turning livid.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon followed in an impulse of curiosity. She looked after him +over the balustrades, and saw him turn into the library below. Hedges was +standing near the drawing-room door.</p> + +<p>"Does any one want Lord Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, my lady. Some gentleman."</p> + +<p>She ran lightly down the stairs, pausing at the foot, as if ashamed of +her persistent curiosity. The well-lighted hall was before her; the +dining-room on one side; the library and a small room communicating on +the other. Throwing back her head, as in defiance, she boldly crossed the +hall and opened the library door.</p> + +<p>Now what Lady Hartledon had really thought was that the visitor was Mr. +Carr; her husband was going to steal a quiet half-hour with him; and +Hedges was in the plot. She had not lived with Hartledon the best part +of a year without learning that Hedges was devoted heart and soul to his +master.</p> + +<p>She opened the library-door. Her husband's back was towards her; and +facing him, his arms raised as if in anger or remonstrance, was the same +stranger who had caused some commotion in the other house. She knew him +in a moment: there he was, with his staid face, his black clothes, and +his white neckcloth, looking so like a clergyman. Lord Hartledon turned +his head.</p> + +<p>"I am engaged, Maude; you can't come in," he peremptorily said; and +closed the door upon her.</p> + +<p>She went slowly up the stairs again, not choosing to meet the butler's +eyes, past the drawing-rooms, and up to her own. The sight of the +stranger, coupled with her husband's signs of emotion, had renewed all +her old suspicions, she knew not, she never had known, of what. Jumping +to the conclusion that those letters must be in some way connected with +the mystery, perhaps an advent of the visit, it set her thinking, and +rebellion arose in her heart.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he put them in the ebony cabinet?" she exclaimed. "I have a +key that will fit that."</p> + +<p>Yes, she had a key to fit it. A few weeks before, Lord Hartledon mislaid +his keys; he wanted something out of this cabinet, in which he did not, +as a rule, keep anything of consequence, and tried hers. One was found to +unlock it, and he jokingly told her she had a key to his treasures. But +himself strictly honourable, he could not suspect dishonour in another; +and Lord Hartledon supposed it simply impossible that she should attempt +to open it of her own accord.</p> + +<p>They were of different natures; and they had been reared in different +schools. Poor Maude Kirton had learnt to be anything but scrupulous, +and really thought it a very slight thing she was about to do, almost +justifiable under the circumstances. Almost, if not quite. Nevertheless +she would not have liked to be caught at it.</p> + +<p>She took her bunch of keys and went into her husband's dressing-room, +which opened from their bedroom: but she went on tip-toe, as one who +knows she is doing wrong. It took some little time to try the keys, for +there were several on the ring, and she did not know the right one: but +the lid flew open at last, and disclosed the two letters lying there.</p> + +<p>She snatched at one, either that came first, and opened it. It happened +to be the one from Mr. Carr, and she began to read it, her heart beating.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Hartledon,</p> + +<p>"I think I have at last found some trace of Gorton. There's a man of that +name in the criminal calendar here, down for trial to-morrow; I shall see +then whether it is the same, but the description tallies. Should it be +our Gorton, I think the better plan will be to leave him entirely alone: +a man undergoing a criminal sentence—and this man is sure of a long +period of it—has neither the means nor the motive to be dangerous. He +cannot molest you whilst he is working on Portland Island; and, so far, +you may live a little eased from fear. I wish—"</p></div> + +<p>Mr. Carr's was a close handwriting, and this concluded the first page. +She was turning it over, when Lord Hartledon's voice on the stairs caught +her ear. He seemed to be coming up.</p> + +<p>Ay, and he would have caught her at her work but for the accidental +circumstance of the old dowager's happening to look out of the +drawing-room and detaining him, as he was hastening onwards up the +stairs. She did her daughter good service that moment, if she had never +done it before. Maude had time to fold the letter, put it back, lock the +cabinet, and escape. Had she been a nervous woman, given to being +flurried and to losing her presence of mind, she might not have +succeeded; but she was cool and quick in emergency, her brain and fingers +steady.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless her heart beat a little as she stood within the other room, +the door not latched behind her. She did not stir, lest he should hear +her; and she hoped to remain unseen until he went down again. A ready +excuse was on her lips, if he happened to look in, which was not +probable: that she fancied she heard baby cry, and was listening.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was walking about his dressing-room, pacing it restlessly, +and she very distinctly heard suppressed groans of mortal anguish +breaking from his lips. How he had got rid of his visitor, and what +the visitor came for, she knew not. He seemed to halt before the +washhand-stand, pour out some water, and dash his face into it.</p> + +<p>"God help me! God help Maude!" he ejaculated, as he went down again to +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>And Lady Hartledon went down also, for the interruption had frightened +her, and she did not attempt to open the cabinet again. She never knew +more of the contents of Mr. Carr's letter; and only the substance of the +other, as communicated to her by her husband.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>CROSS-QUESTIONING MR. CARR.</h3> + + +<p>Not until the Sunday morning did Lady Hartledon speak to her husband of +the stranger's visit. There seemed to have been no previous opportunity. +Mr. Carr had arrived late on the Friday night; indeed it was Saturday +morning, for the trains were all detained; and he and Hartledon sat up +together to an unconscionable hour. For this short visit he was Lord +Hartledon's guest. Saturday seemed to have been given to preparation, +to gaiety, and to nothing else. Perhaps also Lady Hartledon did not wish +to mar that day by an unpleasant word. The little child was christened; +the names given him being Edward Kirton: the countess-dowager, who was in +a chronic state of dissatisfaction with everything and every one, angrily +exclaimed at the last moment, that she thought at least her family name +might have been given to the child; and Lord Hartledon interposed, and +said, give it. Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Mr. Carr, were the sponsors: +and it would afford food for weeks of grumbling to the old dowager. +Hilarity reigned, and toasts were given to the new heir of Hartledon; +and the only one who seemed not to enter into the spirit of the thing, +but on the contrary to be subdued, absent, nervous, was the heir's +father.</p> + +<p>And so it went on to the Sunday morning. A cold, bleak, bitter morning, +the wind howling, the snow flying in drifts. Mr. Carr went to church, +and he was the only one of the party in the house who did go. The +countess-dowager the previous night had proclaimed the fact that <i>she</i> +meant to go—as a sort of reproach to any who meant to keep away. +However, when the church-bells began, she was turning round in her +warm bed for another nap.</p> + +<p>Maude did not go down early; had not yet taken to doing so. She +breakfasted in her room, remained toying with her baby for some time, +and then went into her own sitting-room; a small cosy apartment on the +drawing-room floor, into which visitors did not intrude. It looked on to +Hyde Park, and a very white and dreary park it was on that particular +day.</p> + +<p>Drawing a chair to the window, she sat looking out. That is, her eyes +were given to the outer world, but she was so deep in thought as to see +nothing of it. For two nights and a day, burning with curiosity, she had +been putting this and that together in her own mind, and drawing +conclusions according to her own light. First, there was the advent of +the visitor; secondly, there was the letter she had dipped into. She +connected the two with each other and wondered WHAT the secret care could +be that had such telling effect upon her husband.</p> + +<p>Gorton. The name had struck upon her memory, even whilst she read it, as +one associated with that terrible time—the late Lord Hartledon's death. +Gradually the floodgates of recollection opened, and she knew him for the +witness at the inquest about whom some speculation had arisen as to who +he was, and what his business at Calne might have been with Lord +Hartledon and his brother, Val Elster.</p> + +<p>Why should her husband be afraid of this man?—as it seemed he <i>was</i> +afraid, by Mr. Carr's letter. What power had he of injuring Lord +Hartledon?—what secret did he possess of his, that might be used against +him? Turning it about in her mind, and turning it again, searching her +imagination for a solution, Lady Hartledon at length arrived at one, in +default of others. She thought this man must know some untoward fact +by which the present Lord Hartledon's succession was imperilled. Possibly +the late Lord Hartledon had made some covert and degrading marriage; +leaving an obscure child who possessed legal rights, and might yet claim +them. A romantic, far-fetched idea, you will say; but she could think of +no other that was in the least feasible. And she remembered some faint +idea having arisen in her mind at the time, that the visit of the man +Gorton was in some way connected with trouble, though she did not know +with which brother.</p> + +<p>Val came in and shut the door. He stirred the fire into a blaze, making +some remark about the snow, and wondering how Carr would get down to the +country again. Maude gave a slight answer, and then there was silence. +Each was considering how best to say something to the other. She was the +quicker.</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon, what did that man want on Friday?"</p> + +<p>"What man?" he rejoined, rather wincing—for he knew well enough to what +she alluded.</p> + +<p>"The man—gentleman, or whatever he is—who had you called down to him in +the library."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Maude—yes—you should not dart in when I am engaged with +visitors on business."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought it was Mr. Carr," she replied, glancing at his +heightened colour. "What did he want?"</p> + +<p>"Only to say a word to me on a matter of business."</p> + +<p>"It was the same person who upset you so when he called last autumn. You +have never been the same man since."</p> + +<p>"Don't take fancies into your head, Maude."</p> + +<p>"Fancies! you know quite well there is no fancy about it. That man holds +some unpleasant secret of yours, I am certain."</p> + +<p>"Maude!"</p> + +<p>"Will you tell it me?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to tell."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well; I expected you wouldn't speak," she answered, with subdued +bitterness; as much as to say, that she made a merit of resigning herself +to an injustice she could not help. "You have been keeping things from me +a long time."</p> + +<p>"I have kept nothing from you it would give you pleasure to know. It is +not—Maude, pray hear me—it is not always expedient for a man to make +known to his wife the jars and rubs he has himself to encounter. A +hundred trifles may arise that are best spared to her. That gentleman's +business concerned others as well as myself, and I am not at liberty to +speak of it."</p> + +<p>"You refuse, then, to admit me to your confidence?"</p> + +<p>"In this I do. I am the best judge—and you must allow me to be so—of +what ought, and what ought not, to be spoken of to you. You may always +rely upon my acting for your best happiness, as far as lies in my power."</p> + +<p>He had been pacing the room whilst he spoke. Lady Hartledon was in too +resentful a mood to answer. Glancing at her, he stood by the mantelpiece +and leaned his elbow upon it.</p> + +<p>"I want to make known to you another matter, Maude. If I have kept it +from you—"</p> + +<p>"Does it concern this secret business of yours?" she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then let us have done with this first, if you please. Who is Gorton?"</p> + +<p>"Who is—Gorton?" he repeated, after a dumbfounded pause. "What Gorton?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know; unless it's that man who gave evidence at the +inquest on your brother."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon stared at her, as well he might; and gulped down his +breath, which seemed choking him. "But what about Gorton? Why do you ask +me the question?"</p> + +<p>"Because I fancy he is connected with this trouble. I—I thought I heard +you and Mr. Carr mention the name yesterday when you were whispering +together. I'm sure I did—there!"</p> + +<p>As far as Lord Hartledon remembered, he and Mr. Carr had not been +whispering together yesterday; had not mentioned the name of Gorton. +They had done with the subject at that late sitting, the night of the +barrister's arrival; who had brought news that the Gorton, that morning +tried for a great crime, was <i>not</i> the Gorton of whom they were in +search. Lord Hartledon gazed at his wife with questioning eyes, but she +persisted in her assertion. It was sinfully untrue; but how else could +she account for knowing the name?</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I dreamed it, Lord Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you dreamed it or not, Maude. Mr. Carr has +certainly spoken to me since he came of a man of that name; but as +certainly not in your hearing. One Gorton was tried for his life on +Friday—or almost for his life—and he mentioned to me the circumstances +of the case: housebreaking, accompanied by violence, which ended in +death. I cannot understand you, Maude, or the fancies you seem to be +taking up."</p> + +<p>She saw how it was—he would admit nothing: and she looked straight out +across the dreary park, a certain obstinate defiance veiled in her eyes. +By the help of Heaven or earth, she would find out this secret that he +refused to disclose to her.</p> + +<p>"Almost every action of your life bespeaks concealment," she resumed. +"Look at those letters you received in your dressing-room on Friday +night: you just opened them and thrust them unread into your pocket, +because I happened to be there. And yet you talk of caring for me! I know +those letters contained some secret or other you dare not tell me."</p> + +<p>She rose in some temper, and gave the fire a fierce stir.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon kept her by him.</p> + +<p>"One of those letters was from Mr. Carr; and I presume you can make no +objection to my hearing from him. The other—Maude, I have waited until +now to disclose its contents to you; I would not mar your happiness +yesterday."</p> + +<p>She looked up at him. Something in his voice, a sad pitying tenderness, +caused her heart to beat a shade quicker. "It was a foreign letter, +Maude. I think you observed that. It bore the French postmark."</p> + +<p>A light broke upon her. "Oh, Percival, it is about Robert! Surely he is +not worse!"</p> + +<p>He drew her closer to him: not speaking.</p> + +<p>"He is not dead?" she said, with a rush of tears. "Ah, you need not tell +me; I see it. Robert! Robert!"</p> + +<p>"It has been a happy death, Maude, and he is better off. He was quite +ready to go. I wish we were as ready!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon took out the letter and read the chief portion of it to +her. One little part he dexterously omitted, describing the cause of +death—disease of the heart.</p> + +<p>"But I thought he was getting so much better. What has killed him in this +sudden manner?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there was no great hope from the first. I confess I have +entertained none. Mr. Hillary, you know, warned us it might end either +way."</p> + +<p>"Was it decline?" she asked, her tears falling.</p> + +<p>"He has been declining gradually, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival! Why did you not tell me at once? It seems so cruel to have +had all that entertainment yesterday! This is why you did not wish us to +dance!"</p> + +<p>"And if I had told you, and stopped the entertainment, allowing the poor +little fellow to be christened in gloom and sorrow, you would have been +the first to reproach me; you might have said it augured ill-luck for the +child."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I should; yes, I am sure I should. You have acted rightly, +after all, Val." And it was a candid admission, considering what she had +been previously saying. He bent towards her with a smile, his voice quite +unsteady with its earnestness.</p> + +<p>"You see now with what motive I kept the letter from you. Maude! cannot +this be an earnest that you should trust me for the rest? In all I do, as +Heaven is my witness, I place your comfort first and foremost."</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with me," she cried, softening at the words.</p> + +<p>He laid his hand on his wife's bent head, thinking how far he was from +anger. Anger? He would have died for her then, at that moment, if it +might have saved her from the sin and shame that she must share with him.</p> + +<p>"Have you told mamma, Percival?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. It would not have been kept from you long had she known it. She +is not up yet, I think."</p> + +<p>"Who has written?"</p> + +<p>"The doctor who attended him."</p> + +<p>"You'll let me read the letter?"</p> + +<p>"I have written to desire that full particulars may be sent to you: you +shall read that one."</p> + +<p>The tacit refusal did not strike her. She only supposed the future letter +would be more explanatory. He was always anxious for her; and he had +written off on the Friday night to ask for a letter giving fuller +particulars, whilst avoiding mention of the cause of death.</p> + +<p>Thus harmony for the hour was restored between them; and Lord Hartledon +stood the dowager's loud reproaches with equanimity. In possession of the +news of that darling angel's death ever since Friday night, and to have +bottled it up within him till Sunday! She wondered what he thought of +himself!</p> + +<p>After all, Val had not quite "bottled it up." He had made it known to his +brother-in-law, Lord Kirton, and also to Mr. Carr. Both had agreed that +nothing had better be said until the christening-day was over.</p> + +<p>But there came a reaction. When Lady Hartledon had got over her first +grief, the other annoyance returned to her, and she fell again to +brooding over it in a very disturbing fashion. She merited blame for this +in a degree; but not so much as appears on the surface. If that idea, +which she was taking up very seriously, were correct—that her husband's +succession was imperilled—it would be the greatest misfortune that could +happen to her in life. What had she married for but position?—rank, +wealth, her title? any earthly misfortune would be less keen than this. +Any earthly misfortune! Poor Maude!</p> + +<p>It was a sombre dinner that evening; the news of Captain Kirton's death +making it so. Besides relatives, very few guests were staying in the +house; and the large and elaborate dinner-party of the previous day was +reduced to a small one on this. The first to come into the drawing-room +afterwards, following pretty closely on the ladies, was Mr. Carr. The +dowager, who rarely paid attention to appearances, or to anything else, +except her own comfort, had her feet up on a sofa, and was fast asleep; +two ladies were standing in front of the fire, talking in undertones; +Lady Hartledon sat on a sofa a little apart, her baby on her knee; and +her sister-in-law, Lady Kirton, a fragile and rather cross-looking young +woman, who looked as if a breath would blow her away, was standing over +her, studying the infant's face. The latter lady moved away and joined +the group at the fire as Mr. Carr approached Lady Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"You have your little charge here, I see!"</p> + +<p>"Please excuse it; I meant to have sent him away before any of you came +up," she said, quite pleadingly. "Sarah took upon herself to proclaim +aloud that his eyes were not straight, and I could not help having him +brought down to refute her words. Not straight, indeed! She's only +envious of him."</p> + +<p>Sarah was Lady Kirton. Mr. Carr smiled.</p> + +<p>"She has no children herself. I think you might be proud of your godson, +Mr. Carr. But he ought not to have been here to receive you, for all +that."</p> + +<p>"I have come up soon to say good-bye, Lady Hartledon. In ten minutes I +must be gone."</p> + +<p>"In all this snow! What a night to travel in!"</p> + +<p>"Necessity has no law. So, sir, you'd imprison my finger, would you!"</p> + +<p>He had touched the child's hand, and in a moment it was clasped round his +finger. Lady Hartledon laughed.</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton—the most superstitious woman in the world—would say that +was an omen: you are destined to be his friend through life."</p> + +<p>"As I will be," said the barrister, his tone more earnest than the +occasion seemed to call for.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon, with a graciousness she was little in the habit of +showing to Mr. Carr, made room for him beside her, and he sat down. The +baby lay on his back, his wide-open eyes looking upwards, good as gold.</p> + +<p>"How quiet he is! How he stares!" reiterated the barrister, who did not +understand much about babies, except for a shadowy idea that they lived +in a state of crying for the first six months.</p> + +<p>"He is the best child in the world; every one says so," she returned. +"He is not the least—Hey-day! what do you mean by contradicting mamma +like that? Behave yourself, sir."</p> + +<p>For the infant, as if to deny his goodness, set up a sudden cry. Mr. Carr +laughed. He put down his finger again, and the little fingers clasped +round it, and the cry ceased.</p> + +<p>"He does not like to lose his friend, you see, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would be my friend as well as his," she rejoined; and the low +meaning tones struck on Mr. Carr's ear.</p> + +<p>"I trust I am your friend," he answered.</p> + +<p>She was still for a few moments; her pale beautiful face inclining +towards the child's; her large dark eyes bent upon him. She turned them +on Mr. Carr.</p> + +<p>"This has been a sad day."</p> + +<p>"Yes, for you. It is grievous to lose a brother."</p> + +<p>"And to lose him without the opportunity of a last look, a last farewell. +Robert was my best and favourite brother. But the day has been marked as +unhappy for other causes than that."</p> + +<p>Was it an uncomfortable prevision of what was coming that caused Mr. Carr +not to answer her? He talked to the unconscious baby, and played with its +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What secret is this that you and my husband have between you, Mr. Carr?" +she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>He ceased his laughing with the baby, said something about its soft face, +was altogether easy and careless in his manner, and then answered in +half-jesting tones:</p> + +<p>"Which one, Lady Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Which one! Have you more than one?" she continued, taking the words +literally.</p> + +<p>"We might count up half-a-dozen, I daresay. I cannot tell you how many +things I have not confided to him. We are quite—"</p> + +<p>"I mean the secret that affects <i>him</i>" she interrupted, in aggrieved +tones, feeling that Mr. Carr was playing with her.</p> + +<p>"There is some dread upon him that's wearing him to a shadow, poisoning +his happiness, making his days and nights one long restlessness. Do you +think it right to keep it from me, Mr. Carr? Is it what you and he are +both doing—and are in league with each other to do?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> am not keeping any secret from you, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"You know you are. Nonsense! Do you think I have forgotten that evening +that was the beginning of it, when a tall strange man dressed as a +clergyman, came here, and you both were shut up with him for I can't tell +how long, and Lord Hartledon came out from it looking like a ghost? You +and he both misled me, causing me to believe that the Ashtons were +entering an action against him for breach of promise; laying the damages +at ten thousand pounds. I mean <i>that</i> secret, Mr. Carr," she added with +emphasis. "The same man was here on Friday night again; and when you came +to the house afterwards, you and Lord Hartledon sat up until nearly +daylight."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr, who had his eyes on the exacting baby, shook his head, and +intimated that he was really unable to understand her.</p> + +<p>"When you are in town he is always at your chambers; when you are away he +receives long letters from you that I may not read."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we have been on terms of close friendship for years. And Lord +Hartledon is an idle man, you know, and looks me up."</p> + +<p>"He said you were arranging some business for him last autumn."</p> + +<p>"Last autumn? Let me see. Yes, I think I was."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Carr, is it of any use playing with me? Do you think it right or +kind to do so?"</p> + +<p>His manner changed at once; he turned to her with eyes as earnest as her +own.</p> + +<p>"Lady Hartledon, I would tell you anything that I could and ought to tell +you. That your husband has been engaged in some complicated business, +which I have been—which I have taken upon myself to arrange for him, is +very true. I know that he does not wish it mentioned, and therefore my +lips are sealed: but it is as well you did not know it, for it would give +you no satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"Does it involve anything very frightful?"</p> + +<p>"It might involve the—the loss of a large sum of money," he answered, +making the best reply he could.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon sank her voice to a whisper. "Does it involve the possible +loss of his title?—of Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Carr, looking at her with surprise.</p> + +<p>"You are sure?"</p> + +<p>"Certain. I give you my word. What can have got into your head, Lady +Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>She gave a sigh of relief. "I thought it just possible—but I will not +tell you why I thought it—that some claimant might be springing up to +the title and property."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr laughed. "That would be a calamity. Hartledon is as surely your +husband's as this watch"—taking it out to look at the time—"is mine. +When his brother died, he succeeded to him of indisputable right. And now +I must go, for my time is up; and when next I see you, young gentleman, +I shall expect a good account of your behaviour. Why, sir, the finger's +mine, not yours. Good-bye, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand coolly, for she was not pleased. The baby began to +cry, and was sent away with its nurse.</p> + +<p>And then Lady Hartledon sat on alone, feeling that if she were ever to +arrive at the solution of the mystery, it would not be by the help of Mr. +Carr. Other questions had been upon her lips—who the stranger was—what +he wanted—five hundred of them: but she saw that she might as well have +put them to the moon.</p> + +<p>And Lord Hartledon went out with Mr. Carr in the inclement night, and saw +him off by a Great-Western train.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>MAUDE'S DISOBEDIENCE.</h3> + + +<p>Again the months went on, it may almost be said the years, and little +took place worthy of record. Time obliterates as well as soothes; and +Lady Hartledon had almost forgotten the circumstances which had perplexed +and troubled her, for nothing more had come of them.</p> + +<p>And Lord Hartledon? But for a certain restlessness, a hectic flush and a +worn frame, betraying that the inward fever was not quenched, a startled +movement if approached or spoken to unexpectedly, it might be thought +that he also was at rest. There were no more anxious visits to Thomas +Carr's chambers; he went about his ordinary duties, sat out his hours +in the House of Lords, and did as other men. There was nothing very +obvious to betray mental apprehension; and Maude had certainly dismissed +the past, so far, from her mind.</p> + +<p>Not again had Val gone down to Hartledon. With the exception of that +short visit of a day or two, already recorded, he had not been there +since his marriage. He would not go: his wife, though she had her way in +most things, could not induce him to go. She went once or twice, in a +spirit of defiance, it may be said, and meanwhile he remained in +London, or took a short trip to the Continent, as the whim prompted him. +Once they had gone abroad together, and remained for some months; taking +servants and the children, for there were two children now; and the +little fellow who had clasped the finger of Mr. Carr was a sturdy boy of +three years old.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon's health was beginning to fail. The doctors told her she +must be more quiet; she went out a great deal, and seemed to live only +in the world. Her husband remonstrated with her on the score of health; +but she laughed, and said she was not going to give up pleasure just yet. +Of course these gay habits are more easily acquired than relinquished. +Lady Hartledon had fainting-fits; she felt occasional pain and +palpitation in the region of the heart; and she grew thin without +apparent cause. She said nothing about it, lest it should be made a plea +for living more quietly; never dreaming of danger. Had she known what +caused her brother's death her fears might possibly have been awakened. +Lord Hartledon suspected mischief might be arising, and cautiously +questioned her; she denied that anything was the matter, and he felt +reassured. His chief care was to keep her free from excitement; and in +this hope he gave way to her more than he would otherwise have done. But +alas! the moment was approaching when all his care would be in vain; when +the built-up security of years was destroyed by a single act of wilful +disobedience to him. The sword so long suspended over his head, was to +fall on hers at last.</p> + +<p>One spring afternoon, in London, he was in his wife's sitting-room; the +little room where you have seen her before, looking upon the Park. The +children were playing on the carpet—two pretty little things; the girl +eighteen months old.</p> + +<p>"Take care!" suddenly called out Lady Hartledon.</p> + +<p>Some one was opening the door, and the little Maude was too near to it. +She ran and picked up the child, and Hedges came in with a card for his +master, saying at the same time that the gentleman was waiting. Lord +Hartledon held it to the fire to read the name.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" asked Lady Hartledon, putting the little girl down by the +window, and approaching her husband. But there came no answer.</p> + +<p>Whether the silence aroused her suspicions—whether any look in her +husband's face recalled that evening of terror long ago—or whether +some malicious instinct whispered the truth, can never be known. Certain +it was that the past rose up as in a mirror before Lady Hartledon's +imagination, and she connected this visitor with the former. She bent +over his shoulder to peep at the card; and her husband, startled out +of his presence of mind, tore it in two and threw the pieces into the +fire.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well!" she exclaimed, mortally offended. "But you cannot blind +me: it is your mysterious visitor again."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean, Maude. It is only someone on business."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go and ask him his business," she said, moving to the door +with angry resolve.</p> + +<p>Val was too quick for her. He placed his back against the door, and +lifted his hands in agitation. It was a great fault of his, or perhaps +a misfortune—for he could not help it—this want of self-control in +moments of emergency.</p> + +<p>"Maude, I forbid you to interfere in this; you must not. For Heaven's +sake, sit down and remain quiet."</p> + +<p>"I'll see your visitor, and know, at last, what this strange trouble is. +I will, Lord Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"You must not: do you hear me?" he reiterated with deep emotion, for she +was trying to force her way out of the room. "Maude—listen—I do not +mean to be harsh, but for your own good I conjure you to be still. I +forbid you, by the obedience you promised me before God, to inquire into +or stir in this matter. It is a private affair of my own, and not yours. +Stay here until I return."</p> + +<p>Maude drew back, as if in compliance; and Lord Hartledon, supposing +he had prevailed, quitted the room and closed the door. He was quite +mistaken. Never had her solemn vows of obedience been so utterly +despised; never had the temptation to evil been so rife in her heart.</p> + +<p>She unlatched the door and listened. Lord Hartledon went downstairs and +into the library, just as he had done the evening before the christening. +And Lady Hartledon was certain the same man awaited him there. Ringing +the nursery-bell, she took off her slippers, unseen, and hid them under +a chair.</p> + +<p>"Remain here with the children," was her order to the nurse who appeared, +as she shut the woman into the room.</p> + +<p>Creeping down softly she opened the door of the room behind the library, +and glided in. It was a small room, used exclusively by Lord Hartledon, +where he kept a heterogeneous collection of things—papers, books, +cigars, pipes, guns, scientific models, anything—and which no one but +himself ever attempted to enter. The intervening door between that and +the library was not quite closed; and Lady Hartledon, cautiously pushed +it a little further open. Wilful, unpardonable disobedience! when he had +so strongly forbidden her! It was the same tall stranger. He was speaking +in low tones, and Lord Hartledon leaned against the wall with a blank +expression of face.</p> + +<p>She saw; and heard. But how she controlled her feelings, how she remained +and made no sign, she never knew. But that the instinct of self-esteem +was one of her strongest passions, the dread of detection in proportion +to it, she never had remained. There she was, and she could not get away +again. The subtle dexterity which had served her in coming might desert +her in returning. Had their senses been on the alert they might have +heard her poor heart beating.</p> + +<p>The interview did not last long—about twenty minutes; and whilst Lord +Hartledon was attending his visitor to the door she escaped upstairs +again, motioned away the nurse, and resumed her shoes. But what did she +look like? Not like Maude Hartledon. Her face was as that of one upon +whom some awful doom has fallen; her breath was coming painfully; and she +kneeled down on the carpet and clasped her children to her beating heart +with an action of wild despair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my boy! my boy! Oh, my little Maude!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly she heard her husband's step approaching, and pushing them +from her, rose and stood at the window, apparently looking out on the +darkening world.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon came in, gaily and cheerily, his manner lighter than it +had been for years.</p> + +<p>"Well, Maude, I have not been long, you see. Why don't you have lights?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer: only stared straight out. Her husband approached her. +"What are you looking at, Maude?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she answered: "my head aches. I think I shall lie down until +dinner-time. Eddie, open the door, and call Nurse, as loud as you can +call."</p> + +<p>The little boy obeyed, and the nurse returned, and was ordered to take +the children. Lady Hartledon was following them to go to her own room, +when she fell into a chair and went off in a dead faint.</p> + +<p>"It's that excitement," said Val. "I do wish Maude would be reasonable!"</p> + +<p>The illness, however, appeared to be more serious than an ordinary +fainting-fit; and Lord Hartledon, remembering the suspicion of +heart-disease, sent for the family doctor Sir Alexander Pepps, an +oracle in the fashionable world.</p> + +<p>A different result showed itself—equally caused by excitement—and the +countess-dowager arrived in a day or two in hot haste. Lady Hartledon lay +in bed, and did not attempt to get up or to get better. She lay almost as +one without life, taking no notice of any one, turning her head from her +husband when he entered, refusing to answer her mother, keeping the +children away from the room.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't she get up, Pepps?" demanded the dowager, wrathfully, +pouncing upon the physician one day, when he was leaving the house.</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander, who might have been supposed to have received his +baronetcy for his skill, but that titles, like kissing, go by favour, +stopped short, took off his hat, and presumed that Lady Hartledon felt +more comfortable in bed.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish! We might all lie in bed if we studied comfort. Is there any +earthly reason why she should stay there, Pepps?"</p> + +<p>"Not any, except weakness."</p> + +<p>"Except idleness, you mean. Why don't you order her to get up?"</p> + +<p>"I have advised Lady Hartledon to do so, and she does not attend to me," +replied Sir Alexander.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the dowager. "She was always wilful. What about her heart?"</p> + +<p>"Her heart!" echoed Sir Alexander, looking up now as if a little aroused.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, yes; her heart; I didn't say her liver. Is it sound, Pepps?"</p> + +<p>"It's sound, for anything I know to the contrary. I never suspected +anything the matter with her heart."</p> + +<p>"Then you are a fool!" retorted the complimentary dowager.</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander's temperament was remarkably calm. Nothing could rouse +him out of his tame civility, which had been taken more than once for +obsequiousness. The countess-dowager had patronized him in earlier years, +when he was not a great man, or had begun to dream of becoming one.</p> + +<p>"Don't you recollect I once consulted you on the subject—what's your +memory good for? She was a girl then, of fourteen or so; and you were +worth fifty of what you are now, in point of discernment."</p> + +<p>The oracle carried his thoughts back, and really could not recollect it. +"Ahem! yes; and the result was—was—"</p> + +<p>"The result was that you said the heart had nothing the matter with it, +and I said it had," broke in the impatient dowager.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, madam, I remember. Pray, have you reason to suspect anything +wrong now?"</p> + +<p>"That's what you ought to have ascertained, Pepps, not me. What d'you +mean by your neglect? What, I ask, does she lie in bed for? If her +heart's right, there's nothing more the matter with her than there is +with you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your ladyship can persuade Lady Hartledon to exert herself," +suggested the bland doctor. "I can't; and I confess I think that she only +wants rousing."</p> + +<p>With a flourish of his hat and his small gold-headed black cane the +doctor bowed himself out from the formidable dowager. That lady turned +her back upon him, and betook herself on the spur of the moment to +Maude's room, determined to "have it out."</p> + +<p>Curious sounds greeted her, as of some one in hysterical pain. On the +bed, clasped to his mother in nervous agony, was the wondering child, +little Lord Elster: words of distress, nay, of despair, breaking from +her. It seemed, the little boy, who was rather self-willed and rebellious +on occasion, had escaped from the nursery, and stolen to his mother's +room. The dowager halted at the door, and looked out from her astonished +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Edward, if we were but dead! Oh, my darling, if it would only please +Heaven to take us both! I couldn't send for you, child; I couldn't see +you; the sight of you kills me. You don't know; my babies, you don't +know!"</p> + +<p>"What on earth does all this mean?" interrupted the dowager, stepping +forward. And Lady Hartledon dropped the boy, and fell back on the bed, +exhausted.</p> + +<p>"What have you done to your mamma, sir?"</p> + +<p>The child, conscious that he had not done anything, but frightened on the +whole, repented of his disobedience, and escaped from the chamber more +quickly than he had entered it. The dowager hated to be puzzled, and went +wrathfully up to her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll tell me what's the matter, Maude."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon grew calm. The countess-dowager pressed the question.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing the matter," came the tardy and rather sullen reply.</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish yourself dead, then?"</p> + +<p>"Because I do."</p> + +<p>"How dare you answer me so?"</p> + +<p>"It's the truth. I should be spared suffering."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager paused. "Spared suffering!" she mentally repeated; +and being a woman given to arriving at rapid conclusions without rhyme or +reason, she bethought herself that Maude must have become acquainted with +the suspicion regarding her heart.</p> + +<p>"Who told you that?" shrieked the dowager. "It was that fool Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"He has told me nothing," said Maude, in an access of resentment, all too +visible. "Told me what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, about your heart. That's what I suppose it is."</p> + +<p>Maude raised herself upon her elbow, her wan face fixed on her mother's. +"Is there anything the matter with my heart?" she calmly asked.</p> + +<p>And then the old woman found that she had made a grievous mistake, and +hastened to repair it.</p> + +<p>"I thought there might be, and asked Pepps. I've just asked him now; and +he's says there's nothing the matter with it."</p> + +<p>"I wish there were!" said Maude.</p> + +<p>"You wish there were! That's a pretty wish for a reasonable Christian," +cried the tart dowager. "You want your husband to lecture you; saying +such things."</p> + +<p>"I wish he were hanged!" cried Maude, showing her glistening teeth.</p> + +<p>"My gracious!" exclaimed the wondering old lady, after a pause. "What has +he done?"</p> + +<p>"Why did you urge me to marry him? Oh, mother, can't you see that I am +dying—dying of horror—and shame—and grief? You had better have buried +me instead."</p> + +<p>For once in her selfish and vulgar mind the countess-dowager felt a +feeling akin to fear. In her astonishment she thought Maude must be going +mad.</p> + +<p>"You'd do well to get some sleep, dear," she said in a subdued tone; "and +to-morrow you must get up; Pepps says so; he thinks you want rousing."</p> + +<p>"I have not slept since; it's not sleep, it's a dead stupor, in which +I dream things as horrible as the reality," murmured Maude, unconscious +perhaps that she spoke aloud. "I shall never sleep again."</p> + +<p>"Not slept since when?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Can't you say what you mean?" cried the puzzled dowager. "If you've any +grievance, tell it out; if you've not, don't talk nonsense."</p> + +<p>But Lady Hartledon, though thus sweetly allured to confession, held her +tongue. Her half-scattered senses came back to her, and with them a +reticence she would not break. The countess-dowager hardly knew whether +she deserved pitying or shaking, and went off in a fit of exasperation, +breaking in upon her son-in-law as he was busy looking over some accounts +in the library.</p> + +<p>"I want to know what is the matter with Maude."</p> + +<p>He turned round in his chair, and met the dowager's flaxen wig and +crimson face. Val did not know what was the matter with his wife any more +than the questioner did. He supposed she would be all right when she grew +stronger.</p> + +<p>"She says it's <i>you</i>" said the gentle dowager, improving upon her +information. "She has just been wishing you were hanged."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you have been teasing her," he returned, with composure. "Maude says +all sorts of things when she's put out."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she does," was the retort; "but she meant this, for she showed +her teeth when she said it. You can't blind me; and I have seen ever +since I came here that there was something wrong between you and Maude."</p> + +<p>For that matter, Val had seen it too. Since the night of his wife's +fainting-fit she had scarcely spoken a word to him; had appeared as if +she could not tolerate his presence for an instant in her room. Lord +Hartledon felt persuaded that it arose from resentment at his having +refused to allow her to see the stranger. He rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing wrong between me and Maude, Lady Kirton. If there were, +you must pardon me for saying that I could not suffer any interference in +it. But there is not."</p> + +<p>"Something's wrong somewhere. I found her just now sobbing and moaning +over Eddie, wishing they were both dead, and all the rest of it. If she +goes on like this for nothing, she's losing her senses, that's all."</p> + +<p>"She'll be all right when she's stronger. Pray don't worry her. She'll be +well soon, I daresay. And now I shall be glad if you'll leave me, for I +am very busy."</p> + +<p>She did not leave him any the quicker for the request, but stayed to +worry him, as it was in her nature to worry every one. Getting rid of her +at last, he turned the key of the door, and wished her a hundred miles +away.</p> + +<p>The wish bore fruit. In a few days some news she heard regarding her +eldest son—who was a widower now—took the dowager to Ireland, and Lord +Hartledon wished he could as easily turn the key of the house upon her as +he had turned that of the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE SWORD SLIPPED.</h3> + + +<p>Summer dust was in the London streets, summer weather in the air, and the +carriage of that fashionable practitioner, Sir Alexander Pepps, still +waited before Lord Hartledon's house. It had waited there more frequently +in these later weeks than of old.</p> + +<p>The great world—<i>her</i> world—wondered what was the matter with her: Sir +Alexander wondered also. Perhaps had he been a less courtly man he might +have rapped out "obstinacy," if questioned upon the point; as it was, he +murmured of "weakness." Weak she undoubtedly was; and she did not seem to +try in the least to grow strong again. She did not go into society now; +she dressed as usual, and sat in her drawing-room, and received visitors +if the whim took her; but she was usually denied to all; and said she was +not well enough to go out. From her husband she remained bitterly +estranged. If he attempted to be friendly with her, to ask what was +ailing her, she either sharply refused to say, or maintained a persistent +silence. Lord Hartledon could not account for her behaviour, and was +growing tired of it.</p> + +<p>Poor Maude! That some grievous blow had fallen upon her was all too +evident. Resentment, anguish, bitter despair alternated within her +breast, and she seemed really not to care whether she lived or died. Was +it for <i>this</i> that she had schemed, and so successfully, to wrest Lord +Hartledon from his promised bride Anne Ashton? She would lie back in her +chair and ask it. No labour of hers could by any possibility have brought +forth a result by which Miss Ashton could be so well avenged. Heaven is +true to itself, and Dr. Ashton had left vengeance with it. Lady Hartledon +looked back on her fleeting triumph; a triumph at the time certainly, but +a short one. It had not fulfilled its golden promises: that sort of +triumph perhaps never does. It had been followed by ennui, repentance, +dissatisfaction with her husband, and it had resulted in a very moonlight +sort of happiness, which had at length centred only in the children. The +children! Maude gave a cry of anguish as she thought of them. No; take it +altogether, the play from the first had not been worth the candle. And +now? She clasped her thin hands in a frenzy of impotent rage—with Anne +Ashton had lain the real triumph, with herself the sacrifice. Too well +Maude understood a remark her husband once made in answer to a reproach +of hers in the first year of their marriage—that he was thankful not to +have wedded Anne.</p> + +<p>One morning Sir Alexander Pepps, on his way from the drawing-room +to his chariot—a very old-fashioned chariot that all the world knew +well—paused midway in the hall, with his cane to his nose, and +condescended to address the man with the powdered wig who was escorting +him.</p> + +<p>"Is his lordship at home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I wish to see him."</p> + +<p>So the wig changed its course, and Sir Alexander was bowed into +the presence. His lordship rose with what the French would call +<i>empressement</i>, to receive the great man.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I have not time to sit," said he, declining the offered chair +and standing, cane in hand. "I have three consultations to-day, and some +urgent cases. I grieve to have a painful duty to fulfil; but I must +inform you that Lady Hartledon's health gives me uneasiness."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon did not immediately reply; but it was not from want of +genuine concern.</p> + +<p>"What is really the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"Debility; nothing else," replied Sir Alexander. "But these cases of +extreme debility cause so much perplexity. Where there is no particular +disease to treat, and the patient does not rally, why—"</p> + +<p>He understood the doctor's pause to mean something ominous. "What can be +done?" he asked. "I have remarked, with pain, that she does not gain +strength. Change of air? The seaside—"</p> + +<p>"She says she won't go," interrupted the physician. "In fact, her +ladyship objects to everything I can suggest or propose."</p> + +<p>"It's very strange," said Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"At times it has occurred to me that she has something on her mind," +continued Sir Alexander. "Upon my delicately hinting this opinion to Lady +Hartledon, she denied it with a vehemence which caused me to suspect that +I was correct. Does your lordship know of anything likely to—to torment +her?"</p> + +<p>"Not anything," replied Lord Hartledon, confidently. "I think I can +assure you that there is nothing of the sort."</p> + +<p>And he spoke according to his belief; for he knew of nothing. He would +have supposed it simply impossible that Lady Hartledon had been made +privy to the dreadful secret which had weighed on him; and he never gave +that a thought.</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander nodded, reassured on the point.</p> + +<p>"I should wish for a consultation, if your lordship has no objection."</p> + +<p>"Then pray call it without delay. Have anything, do anything, that may +conduce to Lady Hartledon's recovery. You do not suspect heart-disease?"</p> + +<p>"The symptoms are not those of any heart-disease known to me. Lady Kirton +spoke to me of this; but I see nothing to apprehend at present on that +score. If there's any latent affection, it has not yet shown itself. Then +we'll arrange the consultation for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander Pepps was bowed out; and the consultation took place; which +left the matter just where it was before. The wise doctors thought there +was nothing radically wrong; but strongly recommended change of air. Sir +Alexander confidently mentioned Torbay; he had great faith in Torbay; +perhaps his lordship could induce Lady Hartledon to try it? She had +flatly told the consultation that she would <i>not</i> try it.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon was seated in the drawing-room when he went in, willing to +do what he could; any urging of his had not gone far with her of late. A +white silk shawl covered her dress of green check silk; she wore a shawl +constantly now, having a perpetual tendency to shiver; her handsome +features were white and attenuated, but her eyes were brilliant still, +and her dark hair was dressed in elaborate braids.</p> + +<p>"So you have had the doctors here, Maude," he remarked, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>She nodded a reply, and began to fidget with the body of her gown. It +seemed that she had to do something or other always to her attire +whenever he spoke to her—which partially took away her attention.</p> + +<p>"Sir Alexander tells me they have been recommending you Torbay."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to Torbay."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you are, Maude," he soothingly said. "It will be a change for us +all. The children will benefit by it as much as you, and so shall I."</p> + +<p>"I tell you I shall not go to Torbay."</p> + +<p>"Would you prefer any other place?"</p> + +<p>"I will not go anywhere; I have told them so."</p> + +<p>"Then I declare that I'll carry you off by force!" he cried, rather +sharply. "Why do you vex me like this? You know you must go?"</p> + +<p>She made no reply. He drew a chair close to her and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Maude," he said, speaking all the more gently for his recent outbreak, +"you must be aware that you do not recover as quickly as we could wish—"</p> + +<p>"I do not recover at all," she interrupted. "I don't want to recover."</p> + +<p>"My dear, how can you talk so? There is nothing the matter with you but +weakness, and that will soon be overcome if you exert yourself."</p> + +<p>"No, it won't. I shall not leave home."</p> + +<p>"Somewhere you must go, for the workmen are coming into the house; and +for the next two months it will not be habitable."</p> + +<p>"Who is bringing them in?" she asked, with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"You know it was decided long ago that the house should be done up this +summer. It wants it badly enough. Torbay—"</p> + +<p>"I will not go to Torbay, Lord Hartledon. If I am to be turned out of +this house, I'll go to the other."</p> + +<p>"What other?"</p> + +<p>"Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Not to Hartledon," said he, quickly, for his dislike to the place had +grown with time, and the word grated on his ear.</p> + +<p>"Then I remain where I am."</p> + +<p>"Maude," he resumed in quiet tones, "I will not urge you to try sea-air +for my sake, because you do what you can to show me I am of little moment +to you; but I will say try it for the sake of the children. Surely, they +are dear to you!"</p> + +<p>A subdued sound of pain broke from her lips, as if she could not bear to +hear them named.</p> + +<p>"It's of no use prolonging this discussion," she said. "An invalid's +fancies may generally be trusted, and mine point to Hartledon—if I am to +be disturbed at all. I should not so much mind going there."</p> + +<p>A pause ensued. Lord Hartledon had taken her hand, and was mechanically +turning round her wedding-ring, his thoughts far away; it hung +sufficiently loosely now on the wasted finger. She lay back in her +chair, looking on with apathy, too indifferent to withdraw her hand.</p> + +<p>"Why did you put it on?" she asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Why indeed?" returned his lordship, deep in his abstraction. "What did +you say, Maude?" he added, awaking in a flurry. "Put what on?"</p> + +<p>"My wedding-ring."</p> + +<p>"My dear! But about Hartledon—if you fancy that, and nowhere else, +I suppose we must go there."</p> + +<p>"You also?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Ah! when your wife's chord of life is loosening what model husbands you +men become!" she uttered. "You have never gone to Hartledon with me; you +have suffered me to be there alone, through a ridiculous reminiscence; +but now that you are about to lose me you will go!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you encourage these gloomy thoughts about yourself, Maude?" he +asked, passing over the Hartledon question. "One would think you wished +to die."</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she replied in tones of deliberation. "Of course, no +one, at my age, can be tired of the world, and for some things I wish to +live; but for others, I shall be glad to die."</p> + +<p>"Maude! Maude! It is wrong to say this. You are not likely to die."</p> + +<p>"I can't tell. All I say is, I shall be glad for some things, if I do."</p> + +<p>"What is all this?" he exclaimed, after a bewildered pause. "Is there +anything on your mind, Maude? Are you grieving after that little infant?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, "not for him. I grieve for the two who remain."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked at her. A dread, which he strove to throw from him, +struggling to his conscience.</p> + +<p>"I think you are deceived in my state of health. And if I object to going +to the seaside, it is chiefly because I would not die in a strange place. +If I am to die, I should like to die at Hartledon."</p> + +<p>His hair seemed to rise up in horror at the words. "Maude! have you any +disease you are concealing from me?"</p> + +<p>"Not any. But the belief has been upon me for some time that I should not +get over this. You must have seen how I appear to be sinking."</p> + +<p>"And with no disease upon you! I don't understand it."</p> + +<p>"No particular physical disease."</p> + +<p>"You are weak, dispirited—I cannot pursue these questions," he broke +off. "Tell me in a word: is there any cause for this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Percival gathered up his breath. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"What is it!" her eyes ablaze with sudden light. "What has weighed <i>you</i> +down, not to the grave, for men are strong, but to terror, and shame, and +sin? What secret is it, Lord Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>His lips were whitening. "But it—even allowing that I have a +secret—need not weigh you down."</p> + +<p>"Not weigh me down!—to terror deeper than yours; to shame more abject? +Suppose I know the secret?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot know it," he gasped. "It would have killed you."</p> + +<p>"And what <i>has</i> it done? Look at me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maude!" he wailed, "what is it that you do, or do not know? How did +you learn anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"I learnt it through my own folly. I am sorry for it now. My knowing it +can make the fact neither better nor worse; and perhaps I might have been +spared the knowledge to the end."</p> + +<p>"But what is it that you know?" he asked, rather wishing at the moment he +was dead himself.</p> + +<p>"<i>All.</i>"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible."</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>And he felt that it was true; here was the solution to the conduct which +had puzzled him, puzzled the doctors, puzzled the household and the +countess-dowager.</p> + +<p>"And how—and how?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"When that stranger was here last, I heard what he said to you," she +replied, avowing the fact without shame in the moment's terrible anguish. +"I made the third at the interview."</p> + +<p>He looked at her in utter disbelief.</p> + +<p>"You refused to let me go down. I followed you, and stood at the little +door of the library. It was open, and I—heard—every word."</p> + +<p>The last words were spoken with an hysterical sobbing. "Oh, Maude!" broke +from the lips of Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"You will reproach me for disobedience, of course; for meanness, perhaps; +but I <i>knew</i> there was some awful secret, and you would not tell me. I +earned my punishment, if that will be any satisfaction to you; I have +never since enjoyed an instant's peace, night or day."</p> + +<p>He hid his face in his pain. This was the moment he had dreaded for +years; anything, so that it might be kept from her, he had prayed in his +never-ceasing fear.</p> + +<p>"Forgive, forgive me! Oh, Maude, forgive me!"</p> + +<p>She did not respond; she did not attempt to soothe him; if ever looks +expressed reproach and aversion, hers did then.</p> + +<p>"Have compassion upon me, Maude! I was more sinned against than sinning."</p> + +<p>"What compassion had you for me? How dared you marry me? you, bound with +crime?"</p> + +<p>"The worst is over, Maude; the worst is over."</p> + +<p>"It can never be over: you are guilty of wilful sophistry. The crime +remains; and—Lord Hartledon—its fruits remain."</p> + +<p>He interrupted her excited words by voice and gesture; he took her hands +in his. She snatched them from him, and burst into a fit of hysterical +crying, which ended in a faintness almost as of death. He did not dare to +call assistance; an unguarded word might have slipped out unawares.</p> + +<p>Shut them in; shut them in! they had need to be alone in a scene such as +that.</p> + +<p>Lord and Lady Hartledon went down to Calne, as she wished. But not +immediately; some two or three weeks elapsed, and during that time Mr. +Carr was a good deal with both of them. Their sole friend: the only man +cognizant of the trouble they had yet to battle with; who alone might +whisper a word of something like consolation.</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon seemed to improve. Whether it was the country, or the sort +of patched-up peace that reigned between her and her husband, she grew +stronger and better, and began to go out again and enjoy life as usual. +But in saying life, it must not be thought that gaiety is implied; none +could shun that as Lady Hartledon now seemed to shun it. And he, for +the first time since his marriage, began to take some interest in his +native place, and in his own home. The old sensitive feeling in regard to +meeting the Ashtons lingered still; was almost as strong as ever; and he +had the good sense to see that this must be overcome, if possible, if he +made Hartledon his home for the future, as his wife now talked of doing.</p> + +<p>As a preliminary step to it, he appeared at church; one, two, three +Sundays. On the second Sunday his wife went with him. Anne was in her +pew, with her younger brother, but not Mrs. Ashton: she, as Lord +Hartledon knew by report, was too ill now to go out. Each day Dr. Ashton +did the whole duty; his curate, Mr. Graves, was taking a holiday. Lord +Hartledon heard another report, that the curate had been wanting to +press his attentions on Miss Ashton. The truth was, as none had known +better than Val Elster, Mr. Graves had wanted to press them years and +years ago. He had at length made her an offer, and she had angrily +refused him. A foolish girl! said indignant Mrs. Graves, reproachfully. +Her son was a model son, and would make a model husband; and he would +be a wealthy man, as Anne knew, for he must sooner or later come into the +entailed property of his uncle. It was not at all pleasant to Lord +Hartledon to stand there in his pew, with recollection upon him, and the +gaze of the Ashtons studiously turned from him, and Jabez Gum looking out +at him from the corners of his eyes as he made his sonorous responses. A +wish for reconciliation took strong possession of Lord Hartledon, and he +wondered whether he could not bring himself to sue for it. He wanted +besides to stay for the after-service, which he had not done since he was +a young man—never since his marriage. Maude had stayed occasionally, as +was the fashion; but he never. I beg you not to quarrel with me for the +word; some of the partakers in that after-service remain from no higher +motive. Certainly poor Maude had not.</p> + +<p>On the third Sunday, Lord Hartledon went to church in the evening—alone; +and when service was over he waited until the church had emptied itself, +and then made his way into the vestry. Jabez was passing out of it, and +the Rector was coming out behind him. Lord Hartledon stopped the latter, +and craved a minute's conversation. Dr. Ashton bowed rather stiffly, put +his hat down, and Jabez shut them in.</p> + +<p>"Is there any service you require of me?" inquired the Rector, coldly.</p> + +<p>It was the impulsive Val Elster of old days who answered; his hand held +out pleadingly, his ingenuous soul shining forth from his blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is, Doctor Ashton; I have come to pray for it—your +forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"My Christian forgiveness you have had already," returned the clergyman, +after a pause.</p> + +<p>"But I want something else. I want your pardon as a man; I want you to +look at me and speak to me as you used to do. I want to hear you call me +'Val' again; to take my hand in yours, and not coldly; in short, I want +you to help me to forgive myself."</p> + +<p>In that moment—and Dr. Ashton, minister of the gospel though he was, +could not have explained it—all the old love for Val Elster rose +bubbling in his heart. A stubborn heart withal, as all hearts are since +Adam sinned; he did not respond to the offered hand, nor did his features +relax their sternness in spite of the pleading look.</p> + +<p>"You must be aware, Lord Hartledon, that your conduct does not merit +pardon. As to friendship—which is what you ask for—it would be +incompatible with the distance you and I must observe towards each +other."</p> + +<p>"Why need we observe it—if you accord me your true forgiveness?"</p> + +<p>The question was one not easy to respond to candidly. The doctor could +not say, Your intercourse with us might still be dangerous to the peace +of one heart; and in his inner conviction he believed that it might be. +He only looked at Val; the yearning face, the tearful eyes; and in that +moment it occurred to the doctor that something more than the ordinary +wear and tear of life had worn the once smooth brow, brought streaks of +silver to the still luxuriant hair.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you nearly killed her?" he asked, his voice softening.</p> + +<p>"I have known that it might be so. Had <i>any</i> atonement lain in my power; +any means by which her grief might have been soothed; I would have gone +to the ends of the earth to accomplish it. I would even have died if it +could have done good. But, of all the world, I alone might attempt +nothing. For myself I have spent the years in misery; not on that score," +he hastened to add in his truth, and a thought crossed Dr. Ashton that he +must allude to unhappiness with his wife—"on another. If it will be any +consolation to know it—if you might accept it as even the faintest +shadow of atonement—I can truly say that few have gone through the care +that I have, and lived. Anne has been amply avenged."</p> + +<p>The Rector laid his hand on the slender fingers, hot with fever, whiter +than they ought to be, betraying life's inward care. He forgave him from +that moment; and forgiveness with Dr. Ashton meant the full meaning of +the word.</p> + +<p>"You were always your own enemy, Val."</p> + +<p>"Ay. Heaven alone knows the extent of my folly; and of my punishment."</p> + +<p>From that hour Lord Hartledon and the Rectory were not total strangers to +each other. He called there once in a way, rarely seeing any one but the +doctor; now and then Mrs. Ashton; by chance, Anne. Times and again was it +on Val's lips to confide to Dr. Ashton the nature of the sin upon his +conscience; but his innate sensitiveness, the shame it would reflect +upon him, stepped in and sealed the secret.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, perhaps he and his wife had never lived on terms of truer +cordiality. <i>There were no secrets between them</i>: and let me tell you +that is one of the keys to happiness in married life. Whatever the past +had been, Lady Hartledon appeared to condone it; at least she no longer +openly resented it to her husband. It is just possible that a shadow of +the future, a prevision of the severing of the tie, very near now, might +have been unconsciously upon her, guiding her spirit to meekness, if not +yet quite to peace. Lord Hartledon thought she was growing strong; and, +save that she would rather often go into a passion of hysterical tears as +she clasped her children to her, particularly the boy, her days passed +calmly enough. She indulged the children beyond all reason, and it was of +no use for their father to interfere. Once when he stepped in to prevent +it, she flew out almost like a tigress, asking what business it was of +his, that he should dare to come between her and them. The lesson was an +effectual one; and he never interfered again. But the indulgence was +telling on the boy's naturally haughty disposition; and not for good.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE PARK.</h3> + + +<p>As the days and weeks went on, and Lord and Lady Hartledon continued at +Calne, there was one circumstance that began to impress itself on the +mind of the former in a careless sort of way—that he was constantly +meeting Pike. Go out when he would, he was sure to see Pike in some +out-of-the-way spot; at a sudden turning, or peering forth from under +a group of trees, or watching him from a roadside bank. One special day +impressed itself on Lord Hartledon's memory. He was walking slowly along +the road with Dr. Ashton, and found Pike keeping pace with them softly on +the other side the hedge, listening no doubt to what he could hear. On +one of these occasions Val stopped and confronted him.</p> + +<p>"What is it you want, Mr. Pike?"</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mr. Pike was about the last man in the world to be, as the saying +runs, "taken aback," and he stood his ground, and boldly answered +"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"It seems as though you did," said Val. "Go where I will, you are sure to +spring up before me, or to be peeping from some ambush as I walk along. +It will not do: do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I was just thinking the same thing yesterday—that your lordship was +always meeting <i>me</i>," said Pike. "No offence on either side, I dare say."</p> + +<p>Val walked on, throwing the man a significant look of warning, but +vouchsafing no other reply. After that Pike was a little more cautious, +and kept aloof for a time; but Val knew that he was still watched on +occasion.</p> + +<p>One fine October day, when the grain had been gathered in and the fields +were bare with stubble, Hartledon, alone in one of the front rooms, heard +a contest going on outside. Throwing up the window, he saw his young son +attempting to mount the groom's pony: the latter objecting. At the door +stood a low basket carriage, harnessed with the fellow pony. They +belonged to Lady Hartledon; sometimes she drove only one; and the groom, +a young lad of fourteen, light and slim, rode the other: sometimes both +ponies were in the carriage; and on those occasions the boy sat by her +side, and drove.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Edward?" called out Lord Hartledon to his son.</p> + +<p>"Young lordship wants to ride the pony, my lord," said the groom. "My +lady ordered me to ride it."</p> + +<p>At this juncture Lady Hartledon appeared on the scene, ready for her +drive. She had intended to take her little son with her—as she generally +did—but the child boisterously demanded that he should ride the pony for +once, and she weakly yielded. Lord Hartledon's private opinion, looking +on, was that she was literally incapable of denying him any earthly thing +he chose to demand. He went out.</p> + +<p>"He had better go with you in the carriage, Maude."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. He sits very well now, and the pony's perfectly quiet."</p> + +<p>"But he is too young to ride by the side of any vehicle. It is not safe. +Let him sit with you as usual."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Edward, you shall ride the pony. Help him up, Ralph."</p> + +<p>"No, Maude. He—"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet!" said Lady Hartledon, bending towards her husband and speaking +in low tones. "It is not for you to interfere. Would you deny him +everything?"</p> + +<p>A strangely bitter expression sat on Val's lips. Not of anger; not even +mortification, but sad, cruel pain. He said no more.</p> + +<p>And the cavalcade started. Lady Hartledon driving, the boy-groom sitting +beside her, and Eddie's short legs striding the pony. They were keeping +to the Park, she called to her husband, and she should drive slowly.</p> + +<p>There was no real danger, as Val believed; only he did not like the +child's wilful temper given way to. With a deep sigh he turned indoors +for his hat, and went strolling down the avenue. Mrs. Capper dropped a +curtsey as he passed the lodge.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard from your son yet?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord, many thanks to you. The school suits him bravely."</p> + +<p>Turning out of the gates, he saw Floyd, the miller, walking slowly along. +The man had been confined to his bed for weeks in the summer, with an +attack of acute rheumatism, and to the house afterwards. It was the first +time they had met since that morning long ago, when the miller brought up +the purse. Lord Hartledon did not know him at first, he was so altered; +pale and reduced.</p> + +<p>"Is it really you, Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"What's left of me, my lord."</p> + +<p>"And that's not much; but I am glad to see you so far well," said +Hartledon, in his usual kindly tone. "I have heard reports of you from +Mr. Hillary."</p> + +<p>"Your lordship's altered too."</p> + +<p>"Am I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems so to me. But it's some few years now since I saw you. +Nothing has ever come to light about that pocket-book, my lord."</p> + +<p>"I conclude not, or I should have heard of it."</p> + +<p>"And your lordship never came down to see the place!"</p> + +<p>"No. I left Hartledon the same day, I think, or the next. After all, +Floyd, I don't see that it is of any use looking into these painful +things: it cannot bring the dead to life again."</p> + +<p>"That's, true," said the miller.</p> + +<p>He was walking into Calne. Lord Hartledon kept by his side, talking to +him. He promised to be as popular a man as his father had been; and that +was saying a great deal. When they came opposite the Rectory, Lord +Hartledon wished him good day and more strength, in his genial manner, +and turned in at the Rectory gates.</p> + +<p>About once a week he was in the habit of calling upon Mrs. Ashton. Peace +was between them; and these visits to her sick-chamber were strangely +welcome to her heart. She had loved Val Elster all her life, and she +loved him still, in spite of the past. For Val was curiously subdued; and +his present mood, sad, quiet, thoughtful, was more endearing than his +gayer one had been. Mrs. Ashton did not fail to read that he was a +disappointed man, one with some constant care upon him.</p> + +<p>Anne was in the hall when he entered, talking to a poor applicant who was +waiting to see the Rector. Lord Hartledon lifted his hat to her, but did +not offer to shake hands. He had never presumed to touch her hand since +the reconciliation; in fact, he scarcely ever saw her.</p> + +<p>"How is Mrs. Ashton to-day?"</p> + +<p>"A little better, I think. She will be glad to see you."</p> + +<p>He followed the servant upstairs, and Anne turned to the woman again. +Mrs. Ashton was in an easy-chair near the window; he drew one close to +her.</p> + +<p>"You are looking wonderful to-day, do you know?" he began in tones almost +as gay as those of the light-hearted Val Elster. "What is it? That very +becoming cap?"</p> + +<p>"The cap, of course. Don't you see its pink ribbons? Your favourite +colour used to be pink, Val. Do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"I remember everything. But indeed and in truth you look better, dear +Mrs. Ashton."</p> + +<p>"Yes, better to-day," she said, with a sigh. "I shall fluctuate to the +end, I suppose; one day better, the next worse. Val, I think sometimes +it is not far off now."</p> + +<p>Very far off he knew it could not be. But he spoke of hope still: it was +in his nature to do so. In the depths of his heart, so hidden from the +world, there seemed to be hope for the whole living creation, himself +excepted.</p> + +<p>"How is your wife to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well. She and Edward are out with the ponies and carriage."</p> + +<p>"She never comes to see me."</p> + +<p>"She does not go to see anyone. Though well, she's not very strong yet."</p> + +<p>"But she's young, and will grow strong. I shall only grow weaker. I am +brave to-day; but you should have seen me last night. So prostrate! I +almost doubted whether I should rise from my bed again. I do not think +you will have to come here many more times."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Ashton!"</p> + +<p>"A little sooner or a little later, what does it matter, I try to ask +myself; but parting is parting, and my heart aches sometimes. One of my +aches will be leaving you."</p> + +<p>"A very minor one then," he said, with deprecation; but tears shone in +his dark blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Not a minor one. I have loved you as a son. I never loved you more, +Percival, than when that letter of yours came to me at Cannes."</p> + +<p>It was the first time she had alluded to it: the letter written the +evening of his marriage. Val's face turned red, for his perfidy rose up +before him in its full extent of shame.</p> + +<p>"I don't care to speak of that," he whispered. "If you only knew what my +humiliation has been!"</p> + +<p>"Not of that, no; I don't know why I mentioned it. But I want you to +speak of something else, Val. Over and over again has it been on my lips +to ask it. What secret trouble is weighing you down?"</p> + +<p>A far greater change, than the one called up by recollection and its +shame, came over his face now. He did not speak; and Mrs. Ashton +continued. She held his hands as he bent towards her.</p> + +<p>"I have seen it all along. At first—I don't mind confessing it—I took +it for granted that you were on bad terms with yourself on account of the +past. I feared there was something wrong between you and your wife, and +that you were regretting Anne. But I soon put that idea from me, to +replace it with a graver one."</p> + +<p>"What graver one?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I know not. I want you to tell me. Will you do so?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head with an unmistakable gesture, unconsciously pressing +her hands to pain.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"You have just said I am dear to you," he whispered; "I believe I am so."</p> + +<p>"As dear, almost, as my own children."</p> + +<p>"Then do not even wish to know it. It is an awful secret; and I must bear +it without sympathy of any sort, alone and in silence. It has been upon +me for some years now, taking the sweetness out of my daily bread; and it +will, I suppose, go with me to my grave. Not scarcely to lift it off my +shoulders, would I impart it to <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>She sighed deeply; and thought it must be connected with some of his +youthful follies. But she loved him still; she had faith in him; she +believed that he went wrong from misfortune more than from fault.</p> + +<p>"Courage, Val," she whispered. "There is a better world than this, +where sorrow and sighing cannot enter. Patience—and hope—and trust in +God!—always bearing onwards. In time we shall attain to it."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon gently drew his hands away, and turned to the window for a +moment's respite. His eyes were greeted with the sight of one of his own +servants, approaching the Rectory at full speed, some half-dozen idlers +behind him.</p> + +<p>With a prevision that something was wrong, he said a word of adieu to +Mrs. Ashton, went down, and met the man outside. Dr. Ashton, who had seen +the approach, also hurried out.</p> + +<p>There had been some accident in the Park, the man said. The pony had +swerved and thrown little Lord Elster: thrown him right under the other +pony's feet, as it seemed. The servant made rather a bungle over his +news, but this was its substance.</p> + +<p>"And the result? Is he much hurt?" asked Lord Hartledon, constraining his +voice to calmness.</p> + +<p>"Well, no; not hurt at all, my lord. He was up again soon, saying he'd +lash the pony for throwing him. He don't seem hurt a bit."</p> + +<p>"Then why need you have alarmed us so?" interrupted Dr. Ashton, +reprovingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, it's her ladyship seems hurt—or something," cried the man.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon looked at him.</p> + +<p>"What have you come to tell, Richard? Speak out."</p> + +<p>Apparently Richard could not speak out. His lady had been frightened and +fainted, and did not come to again. And Lord Hartledon waited to hear no +more.</p> + +<p>The people, standing about in the park here and there—for even this +slight accident had gathered its idlers together—seemed to look at Lord +Hartledon curiously as he passed them. Close to the house he met Ralph +the groom. The boy was crying.</p> + +<p>"'Twasn't no fault of anybody's, my lord; and there ain't any damage to +the ponies," he began, hastening to excuse himself. "The little lord only +slid off, and they stood as quiet as quiet. There wasn't no cause for my +lady's fear."</p> + +<p>"Is she fainting still?"</p> + +<p>"They say she's—dead."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon pressed onwards, and met Mr. Hillary at the hall-door. The +surgeon took his arm and drew him into an empty room.</p> + +<p>"Hillary! is it true?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it is."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon felt his sight failing. For a moment he was a man groping +in the dark. Steadying himself against the wall, he learned the details.</p> + +<p>The child's pony had swerved. Ralph could not tell at what, and Lady +Hartledon did not survive to tell. She was looking at him at the time, +and saw him flung under the feet of the other pony, and she rose up in +the carriage with a scream, and then fell back into the seat again. Ralph +jumped out and picked up the child, who was not hurt at all; but when he +hastened to tell her this, he saw that she seemed to have no life in her. +One of the servants, Richard, happened to be going through the Park, +within sight; others soon came up; and whilst Lady Hartledon was being +driven home Richard ran for Mr. Hillary, and then sought his master, whom +he found at the Rectory. The surgeon had found her dead.</p> + +<p>"It must have been instantaneous," he observed in low tones as he +concluded these particulars. "One great consolation is, that she was +spared all suffering."</p> + +<p>"And its cause?" breathed Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"The heart. I don't entertain the least doubt about it."</p> + +<p>"You said she had no heart disease. Others said it."</p> + +<p>"I said, if she had it, it was not developed. Sudden death from it is not +at all uncommon where disease has never been suspected."</p> + +<p>And this was all the conclusion come to in the case of Lady Hartledon. +Examination proved the surgeon's surmise to be correct; and in answer to +a certain question put by Lord Hartledon, he said the death was entirely +irrespective of any trouble, or care, or annoyance she might have had in +the past; irrespective even of any shock, except the shock at the moment +of death, caused by seeing the child thrown. That, and that alone, had +been the fatal cause. Lord Hartledon listened to this, and went away to +his lonely chamber and fell on his knees in devout thankfulness to Heaven +that he was so far innocent.</p> + +<p>"If she had not given way to the child!" he bitterly aspirated in the +first moments of sorrow.</p> + +<p>That the countess-dowager should come down post-haste and invade +Hartledon, was of course only natural; and Lord Hartledon strove not to +rebel against it. But she made herself so intensely and disagreeably +officious that his patience was sorely tried. Her first act was to insist +on a stately funeral. He had given orders for one plain and quiet in +every way; but she would have her wish carried out, and raved about the +house, abusing him for his meanness and want of respect to his dead wife. +For peace' sake, he was fain to give her her way; and the funeral was +made as costly as she pleased. Thomas Carr came down to it; and the +countess-dowager was barely civil to him.</p> + +<p>Her next care was to assume the entire management of the two children, +putting Lord Hartledon's authority over them at virtual, if not actual, +defiance. The death of her daughter was in truth a severe blow to the +dowager; not from love, for she really possessed no natural affection at +all, but from fear that she should lose her footing in the house which +was so desirable a refuge. As a preliminary step against this, she began +to endeavour to make it more firm and secure. Altogether she was +rendering Hartledon unbearable; and Val would often escape from it, +his boy in his hand, and take refuge with Mrs. Ashton.</p> + +<p>That Lord Hartledon's love for his children was intense there could be no +question about; but it was nevertheless of a peculiarly reticent nature. +He had rarely, if ever, been seen to caress them. The boy told tales of +how papa would kiss him, even weep over him, in solitude; but he would +not give him so much as an endearing name in the presence of others. Poor +Maude had called him all the pet names in a fond mother's vocabulary; +Lord Hartledon always called him Edward, and nothing more.</p> + +<p>A few evenings after the funeral had taken place, Mirrable, who had been +into Calne, was hurrying back in the twilight. As she passed Jabez Gum's +gate, the clerk's wife was standing at it, talking to Mrs. Jones. The two +were laughing: Mrs. Gum seemed in a less depressed state than usual, and +the other less snappish.</p> + +<p>"Is it you!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, as Mirrable stopped. "I was just +saying I'd not set eyes on you in your new mourning."</p> + +<p>"And laughing over it," returned Mirrable.</p> + +<p>"No!" was Mrs. Jones's retort. "I'd been telling of a trick I served +Jones, and Nance was laughing at that. Silk and crêpe! It's fine to be +you, Mrs. Mirrable!"</p> + +<p>"How's Jabez, Nancy?" asked Mirrable, passing over Mrs. Jones's +criticism.</p> + +<p>"He's gone to Garchester," replied Mrs. Gum, who was given to indirect +answers. "I thought I was never going to see you again, Mary."</p> + +<p>"You could not expect to see me whilst the house was in its recent +state," answered Mirrable. "We have been in a bustle, as you may +suppose."</p> + +<p>"You've not had many staying there."</p> + +<p>"Only Mr. Carr; and he left to-day. We've got the old countess-dowager +still."</p> + +<p>"And likely to have her, if all's true that's said," put in Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>Mirrable tacitly admitted the probability. Her private opinion was that +nothing short of a miracle could ever remove the Dowager Kirton from the +house again. Had any one told Mirrable, as she stood there, that her +ladyship would be leaving of her own accord that night, she had simply +said it was impossible.</p> + +<p>"Mary," cried the weak voice of poor timid Mrs. Gum, "how was it none of +the brothers came to the funeral? Jabez was wondering. She had a lot, +I've heard."</p> + +<p>"It was not convenient to them, I suppose," replied Mirrable. "The one +in the Isle of Wight had gone cruising in somebody's yacht, or he'd have +come with the dowager; and Lord Kirton telegraphed from Ireland that he +was prevented coming. I know nothing about the rest."</p> + +<p>"It was an awful death!" shivered Mrs. Gum. "And without cause too; for +the child was not hurt after all. Isn't my lord dreadfully cut up, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I think so; he's very quiet and subdued. But he has seemed full of +sorrow for a long while, as if he had some dreadful care upon him. I +don't think he and his wife were very happy together," added Mirrable. +"My lord's likely to make Hartledon his chief residence now, I fancy, +for—My gracious! what's that?"</p> + +<p>A crash as if a whole battery of crockery had come down inside the +house. A moment of staring consternation ensued, and nervous Mrs. Gum +looked ready to faint. The two women disappeared indoors, and Mirrable +turned homewards at a brisk pace. But she was not to go on without an +interruption. Pike's head suddenly appeared above the hurdles, and he +began inquiring after her health. "Toothache gone?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, answering straightforwardly in her surprise. "How did +you know I had toothache?" It was not the first time by several he had +thus accosted her; and to give her her due, she was always civil to him. +Perhaps she feared to be otherwise.</p> + +<p>"I heard of it. And so my Lord Hartledon's like a man with some dreadful +care upon him!" he went on. "What is the care?"</p> + +<p>"You have been eavesdropping!" she angrily exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. I was seated under the hedge with my pipe, and you +three women began talking. I didn't tell you to. Well, what's his +lordship's care?"</p> + +<p>"Just mind your own business, and his lordship will mind his," she +retorted. "You'll get interfered with in a way you won't like, Pike, one +of these days, unless you mend your manners."</p> + +<p>"A great care on him," nodded Pike to himself, looking after her, as she +walked off in her anger. "A great care! <i>I</i> know. One of these fine days, +my lord, I may be asking you questions about it on my own score. I might +long before this, but for—"</p> + +<p>The sentence broke off abruptly, and ended with a growl at things in +general. Mr. Pike was evidently not in a genial mood.</p> + +<p>Mirrable reached home to find the countess-dowager in a state more easily +imagined than described. Some sprite, favourable to the peace of +Hartledon, had been writing confidentially from Ireland regarding Kirton +and his doings. That her eldest son was about to steal a march on her and +marry again seemed almost indisputably clear; and the miserable dowager, +dancing her war-dance and uttering reproaches, was repacking her boxes in +haste. Those boxes, which she had fondly hoped would never again leave +Hartledon, unless it might be for sojourns in Park Lane! She was going +back to Ireland to mount guard, and prevent any such escapade. Only in +September had she quitted him—and then had been as nearly ejected as a +son could eject his mother with any decency—and had taken the Isle of +Wight on her way to Hartledon. The son who lived in the Isle of Wight +had espoused a widow twice his own age, with eleven hundred a year, and a +house and carriage; so that he had a home: which the countess-dowager +sometimes remembered.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was liberal. He gave her a handsome sum for her journey, +and a cheque besides; most devoutly praying that she might keep guard +over Kirton for ever. He escorted her to the station himself in a closed +carriage, an omnibus having gone before them with a mountain of boxes, +at which all Calne came out to stare.</p> + +<p>And the same week, confiding his children to the joint care of Mirrable +and their nurse—an efficient, kind, and judicious woman—Lord Hartledon +departed from home and England for a sojourn on the Continent, long or +short, as inclination might lead him, feeling as a bird released from +its cage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>COMING HOME.</h3> + + +<p>Some eighteen months after the event recorded in the last chapter, a +travelling carriage dashed up to a house in Park Lane one wet evening +in spring. It contained Lord Hartledon and his second wife. They were +expected, and the servants were assembled in the hall.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon led her into their midst, proudly, affectionately; as he +had never in his life led any other. Ah, you need not ask who she was; he +had contrived to win her, to win over Dr. Ashton; and his heart had at +length found rest. Her fair countenance, her thoughtful eyes and sweet +smile were turned on the servants, thanking them for their greeting.</p> + +<p>"All well, Hedges?" asked Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Quite well, my lord. But we are not alone."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Val, stopping in his progress. "Who's here?"</p> + +<p>"The Countess-Dowager of Kirton, my lord," replied Hedges, glancing at +Lady Hartledon in momentary hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" said Val, as if not enjoying the information. "Just see, +Hedges, that the things inside the carriage are all taken out. Don't come +up, Mrs. Ball; I will take Lady Hartledon to her rooms."</p> + +<p>It was the light-hearted Val of the old, old days; his face free from +care, his voice gay. He did not turn into any of the reception-rooms, but +led his wife at once to her chamber. It was nearly dinner-time, and he +knew she was tired.</p> + +<p>"Welcome home, my darling!" he whispered tenderly ere releasing her. "A +thousand welcomes to you, my dear, dear wife!"</p> + +<p>Tears rose to his eyes with the fervour of the wish. Heaven alone knew +what the past had been; the contrast between that time and this.</p> + +<p>"I will dress at once, Percival," she said, after a few moments' pause. +"I must see your children before dinner. Heaven helping me, I shall love +them and always act by them as if they were my own."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry she is here, Anne—that terrible old woman. You heard +Hedges say Lady Kirton had arrived. Her visit is ill-timed."</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to welcome her, Val."</p> + +<p>"It is more than I shall be," replied Val, as his wife's maid came into +the room, and he quitted it. "I'll bring the children to you, Anne."</p> + +<p>They had been married nearly five weeks. Anne had not seen the children +for several months. The little child, Edward, had shown symptoms of +delicacy, and for nearly a year the children had sojourned at the +seaside, having been brought to the town-house just before their father's +marriage.</p> + +<p>The nursery was empty, and Lord Hartledon went down. In the passage +outside the drawing-room was Hedges, evidently waiting for his master, +and with a budget to unfold.</p> + +<p>"When did she come, Hedges?"</p> + +<p>"My lord, it was only a few days after your marriage," replied Hedges. +"She arrived in the most outrageous tantrum—if I shall not offend your +lordship by saying so—and has been here ever since, completely upsetting +everything."</p> + +<p>"What was her tantrum about?"</p> + +<p>"On account of your having married again, my lord. She stood in the hall +for five minutes when she got here, saying the most audacious things +against your lordship and Miss Ashton—I mean my lady," corrected Hedges.</p> + +<p>"The old hag!" muttered Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I think she's insane at times, my lord; I really do. The fits of passion +she flies into are quite bad enough for insanity. The housekeeper told me +this morning she feared she would be capable of striking my lady, when +she first saw her. I'm afraid, too, she has been schooling the children."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon strode into the drawing-room. There, as large as +life—and a great deal larger than most lives—was the dowager-countess. +Fortunately she had not heard the arrival: in fact, she had dropped into +a doze whilst waiting for it; and she started up when Val entered.</p> + +<p>"How are you, ma'am?" asked he. "You have taken me by surprise."</p> + +<p>"Not half as much as your wicked letter took me," screamed the old +dowager. "Oh, you vile man! to marry again in this haste! You—you—I +can't find words that I should not be ashamed of; but Hamlet's mother, in +the play, was nothing to it."</p> + +<p>"It is some time since I read the play," returned Hartledon, controlling +his temper under an assumption of indifference. "If my memory serves me, +the 'funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage table.' +<i>My</i> late wife has been dead eighteen months, Lady Kirton."</p> + +<p>"Eighteen months! for such a wife as Maude was to you!" raved the +dowager. "You ought to have mourned her eighteen years. Anybody else +would. I wish I had never let you have her."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon wished it likewise, with all his heart and soul; had +wished it in his wife's lifetime.</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton, listen to me! Let us understand each other. Your visit here +is ill-timed; you ought to feel it so; nevertheless, if you stay it out, +you must observe good manners. I shall be compelled to request you to +terminate it if you fail one iota in the respect due to this house's +mistress, my beloved and honoured wife."</p> + +<p>"Your <i>beloved</i> wife! Do you dare to say it to me?"</p> + +<p>"Ay; beloved, honoured and respected as no woman has ever been by me yet, +or ever will be again," he replied, speaking too plainly in his warmth.</p> + +<p>"What a false-hearted monster!" cried the dowager, shrilly, +apostrophizing the walls and the mirrors. "What then was Maude?"</p> + +<p>"Maude is gone, and I counsel you not to bring up her name to me," said +Val, sternly. "Your treachery forced Maude upon me; and let me tell you +now, Lady Kirton, if I have never told you before, that it wrought upon +her the most bitter wrong possible to be inflicted; which she lived to +learn. I was a vacillating simpleton, and you held me in your trammels. +The less we rake up old matters the better. Things have altered. I am +altered. The moral courage I once lacked does not fail me now; and I have +at least sufficient to hold my own against the world, and protect from +insult the lady I have made my wife. I beg your pardon if my words seem +harsh; they are true; and I am sorry you have forced them from me."</p> + +<p>She was standing still for a moment, staring at him, not altogether +certain of her ground.</p> + +<p>"Where are the children?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Where you can't get at them," she rejoined hotly. "You have your beloved +wife; you don't want them."</p> + +<p>He rang the bell, more loudly than he need have done; but his usually +sweet temper was provoked. A footman came in.</p> + +<p>"Tell the nurse to bring down the children."</p> + +<p>"They are not at home, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Not at home! Surely they are not out in this rain!—and so late!"</p> + +<p>"They went out this afternoon, my lord: and have not come in, I believe."</p> + +<p>"There, that will do," tartly interposed the dowager. "You don't know +anything about it, and you may go."</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton, where are the children?"</p> + +<p>"Where you can't get at them, I say," was Lady Kirton's response. "You +don't think I am going to suffer Maude's children to be domineered over +by a wretch of a step-mother—perhaps poisoned."</p> + +<p>He confronted her in his wrath, his eyes flashing.</p> + +<p>"Madam!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you need not 'Madam' me. Maude's gone, and I shall act for her."</p> + +<p>"I ask you where my children are?"</p> + +<p>"I have sent them away; you may make the most of the information. And +when I have remained here as long as I choose, I shall take them with me, +and keep them, and bring them up. You can at once decide what sum you +will allow me for their education and maintenance: two maids, a tutor, +a governess, clothes, toys, and pocket-money. It must be a handsome sum, +paid quarterly in advance. And I mean to take a house in London for their +accommodation, and shall expect you to pay the rent."</p> + +<p>The coolness with which this was delivered turned Val's angry feelings +into amusement. He could not help laughing as he looked at her.</p> + +<p>"You cannot have my children, Lady Kirton."</p> + +<p>"They are Maude's children," snapped the dowager.</p> + +<p>"But I presume you admit that they are likewise mine. And I shall +certainly not part with them."</p> + +<p>"If you oppose me in this, I'll put them into Chancery," cried the +dowager. "I am their nearest relative, and have a right to them."</p> + +<p>"Nearest relative!" he repeated. "You must have lost your senses. I am +their father."</p> + +<p>"And have you lived to see thirty, and never learnt that men don't count +for anything in the bringing up of infants?" shrilly asked the dowager. +"If they had ten fathers, what's that to the Lord Chancellor? No more +than ten blocks of wood. What they want is a mother."</p> + +<p>"And I have now given them one."</p> + +<p>Without another word, with the red flush of emotion on his cheek, he went +up to his wife's room. She was alone then, dressed, and just coming out +of it. He put his arm round her to draw her in again, as he shortly +explained the annoyance their visitor was causing him.</p> + +<p>"You must stay here, my dearest, until I can go down with you," he added. +"She is in a vile humour, and I do not choose that you should encounter +her, unprotected by me."</p> + +<p>"But where are you going, Val?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I really think I shall get a policeman in, and frighten her into +saying what she has done with the children. She'll never tell unless +forced into it."</p> + +<p>Anne laughed, and Hartledon went down. He had in good truth a great mind +to see what the effect would be. The old woman was not a reasonable +being, and he felt disposed to show her very little consideration. As he +stood at the hall-door gazing forth, who should arrive but Thomas Carr. +Not altogether by accident; he had come up exploring, to see if there +were any signs of Val's return.</p> + +<p>"Ah! home at last, Hartledon!"</p> + +<p>"Carr, what happy wind blew you hither?" cried Val, as he grasped the +hands of his trusty friend. "You can terrify this woman with the thunders +of the law if she persists in kidnapping children that don't belong to +her." And he forthwith explained the state of affairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr laughed.</p> + +<p>"She will not keep them away long. She is no fool, that countess-dowager. +It is a ruse, no doubt, to induce you to give them up to her."</p> + +<p>"Give them up to her, indeed!" Val was beginning, when Hedges advanced to +him.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ball says the children have only gone to Madame Tussaud's, my +lord," quoth he. "The nurse told her so when she went out."</p> + +<p>"I wish she was herself one of Madame Tussaud's figure-heads!" cried Val. +"Mr. Carr dines here, Hedges. Nonsense, Carr; you can't refuse. Never +mind your coat; Anne won't mind. I want you to make acquaintance with +her."</p> + +<p>"How did you contrive to win over Dr. Ashton?" asked Thomas Carr, as he +went in.</p> + +<p>"I put the matter before him in its true light," answered Val, "asking +him whether, if Anne forgave me, he would condemn us to live out our +lives apart from each other: or whether he would not act the part of a +good Christian, and give her to me, that I might strive to atone for the +past."</p> + +<p>"And he did so?"</p> + +<p>"After a great deal of trouble. There's no time to give you details. I +had a powerful advocate in Anne's heart. She had never forgotten me, for +all my misconduct."</p> + +<p>"You have been a lucky man at last, taking one thing with another."</p> + +<p>"You may well say so," was the answer, in tones of deep feeling. +"Moments come over me when I fear I am about to awake and find the +present a dream. I am only now beginning to <i>live</i>. The past few years +have been—you know what, Carr."</p> + +<p>He sent the barrister into the drawing room, went upstairs for Anne, and +brought her in on his arm. The dowager was in her chamber, attiring +herself in haste.</p> + +<p>"My wife, Carr," said Hartledon, with a loving emphasis on the word. +She was in an evening dress of white and black, not having yet put off +mourning for Mrs. Ashton, and looked very lovely; far more lovely in +Thomas Carr's eyes than Lady Maude, with her dark beauty, had ever +looked. She held out her hand to him with a frank smile.</p> + +<p>"I have heard so much of you, Mr. Carr, that we seem like old friends. +I am glad you have come to see me so soon."</p> + +<p>"My being here this evening is an accident, Lady Hartledon, as you may +see by my dress," he returned. "I ought rather to apologize for intruding +on you in the hour of your arrival."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about intrusion," said Val. "You will never be an intruder in +my house—and Anne's smile is telling you the same—"</p> + +<p>"Who's that, pray?"</p> + +<p>The interruption came from the countess-dowager. There she stood, near +the door, in a yellow gown and green turban. Val drew himself up and +approached her, his wife still on his arm. "Madam," said he, in reply to +her question, "this is my wife, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>The dowager's gauzes made acquaintance with the carpet in so elaborate +a curtsey as to savour of mockery, but her eyes were turned up to the +ceiling; not a word or look gave she to the young lady.</p> + +<p>"The other one, I meant," cried she, nodding towards Thomas Carr.</p> + +<p>"It is my friend Mr. Carr. You appear to have forgotten him."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are well, ma'am," said he, advancing towards her.</p> + +<p>Another curtsey, and the countess-dowager fanned herself, and sailed +towards the fireplace.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the children came home in a cab from Madame Tussaud's, and +dinner was announced. Lord Hartledon was obliged to take down the +countess-dowager, resigning his wife to Mr. Carr. Dinner passed off +pretty well, the dowager being too fully occupied to be annoying; also +the good cheer caused her temper to thaw a little. Afterwards, the +children came in; Edward, a bold, free boy of five, who walked straight +up to his grandmother, saluting no one; and Maude, a timid, delicate +little child, who stood still in the middle of the carpet where the maid +placed her.</p> + +<p>The dowager was just then too busy to pay attention to the children, but +Anne held out her hand with a smile. Upon which the child drew up to her +father, and hid her face in his coat.</p> + +<p>He took her up, and carried her to his wife, placing her upon her knee. +"Maude," he whispered, "this is your mamma, and you must love her very +much, for she loves you."</p> + +<p>Anne's arms fondly encircled the child; but she began to struggle to get +down.</p> + +<p>"Bad manners, Maude," said her father.</p> + +<p>"She's afraid of her," spoke up the boy, who had the dark eyes and +beautiful features of his late mother. "We are afraid of bad people."</p> + +<p>The observation passed momentarily unnoticed, for Maude, whom Lady +Hartledon had been obliged to release, would not be pacified. But when +calmness ensued, Lord Hartledon turned to the boy, just then assisting +himself to some pineapple.</p> + +<p>"What did I hear you say about bad people, Edward?"</p> + +<p>"She," answered the boy, pointing towards Lady Hartledon. "She shan't +touch Maude. She's come here to beat us, and I'll kick if she touches +me."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon, with an unmistakable look at the countess-dowager, rose +from his seat in silence and rang the bell. There could be no correction +in the presence of the dowager; he and Anne must undo her work alone. +Carrying the little girl in one arm, he took the boy's hand, and met the +servant at the door.</p> + +<p>"Take these children back to the nursery."</p> + +<p>"I want some strawberries," the boy called out rebelliously.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day," said his father. "You know quite well that you have behaved +badly."</p> + +<p>His wife's face was painfully flushed. Mr. Carr was critically examining +the painted landscape on his plate; and the turban was enjoying some +fruit with perfect unconcern. Lord Hartledon stood an instant ere he +resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>"Anne," he said in a voice that trembled in spite of its displeased +tones, "allow me to beg your pardon, and I do it with shame that this +gratuitous insult should have been offered you in your own house. A day +or two will, I hope, put matters on their right footing; the poor +children, as you see, have been tutored."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to keep the port by you all night, Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>Need you ask from whom came the interruption? Mr. Carr passed it across +to her, leaving her to help herself; and Lord Hartledon sat down, biting +his delicate lips.</p> + +<p>When the dowager seemed to have finished, Anne rose. Mr. Carr rose too as +soon as they had retired.</p> + +<p>"I have an engagement, Hartledon, and am obliged to run away. Make my +adieu to your wife."</p> + +<p>"Carr, is it not a crying shame?—enough to incense any man?"</p> + +<p>"It is. The sooner you get rid of her the better."</p> + +<p>"That's easier said than done."</p> + +<p>When Lord Hartledon reached the drawing-room, the dowager was sleeping +comfortably. Looking about for his wife, he found her in the small room +Maude used to make exclusively her own, which was not lighted up. She was +standing at the window, and her tears were quietly falling. He drew her +face to his own.</p> + +<p>"My darling, don't let it grieve you! We shall soon right it all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival, if the mischief should have gone too far!—if they should +never look upon me except as a step-mother! You don't know how sick and +troubled this has made me feel! I wanted to go to them in the nursery +when I came up, and did not dare! Perhaps the nurse has also been +prejudiced against me!"</p> + +<p>"Come up with me now, love," he whispered.</p> + +<p>They went silently upstairs, and found the children were then in bed and +asleep. They were tired with sight-seeing, the nurse said apologetically, +curtseying to her new mistress.</p> + +<p>The nurse withdrew, and they stood over the nursery fire, talking. Anne +could scarcely account for the extreme depression the event seemed to +have thrown upon her. Lord Hartledon quickly recovered his spirits, +vowing he should like to "serve out" the dowager.</p> + +<p>"I was thankful for one thing, Val; that you did not betray anger to +them, poor little things. It would have made it worse."</p> + +<p>"I was on the point of betraying something more than anger to Edward; but +the thought that I should be punishing him for another's fault checked +me. I wonder how we can get rid of her?"</p> + +<p>"We must strive to please her while she stays."</p> + +<p>"Please her!" he echoed. "Anne, my dear, that is stretching Christian +charity rather too far."</p> + +<p>Anne smiled. "I am a clergyman's daughter, you know, Val."</p> + +<p>"If she is wise, she'll abstain from offending you in my presence. I'm +not sure but I should lose command of myself, and send her off there and +then."</p> + +<p>"I don't fear that. She was quite civil when we came up from dinner, +and—"</p> + +<p>"As she generally is then. She takes her share of wine."</p> + +<p>"And asked me if I would excuse her falling into a doze, for she never +felt well without it."</p> + +<p>Anne was right. The cunning old woman changed her tactics, finding those +she had started would not answer. It has been remarked before, if you +remember, that she knew particularly well on which side her bread was +buttered. Nothing could exceed her graciousness from that evening. The +past scene might have been a dream, for all traces that remained of it. +Out of the house she was determined not to go in anger; it was too +desirable a refuge for that. And on the following day, upon hearing +Edward attempt some impudent speech to his new mother, she put him across +her knee, pulled off an old slipper she was wearing, and gave him a +whipping. Anne interposed, the boy roared; but the good woman had +her way.</p> + +<p>"Don't put yourself out, dear Lady Hartledon. There's nothing so good +for them as a wholesome whipping. I used to try it on my own children +at times."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>MR. PIKE ON THE WING.</h3> + + +<p>The time went on. It may have been some twelve or thirteen months later +that Mr. Carr, sitting alone in his chambers, one evening, was surprised +by the entrance of his clerk—who possessed a latch-key as well as +himself.</p> + +<p>"Why, Taylor! what brings you here?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would most likely be in, sir," replied the clerk. "Do +you remember some few years ago making inquiries about a man named +Gorton—and you could not find him?"</p> + +<p>"And never have found him," was Mr. Carr's comment. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen him this evening. He is back in London."</p> + +<p>Thomas Carr was not a man to be startlingly affected by any +communication; nevertheless he felt the importance of this, for Lord +Hartledon's sake.</p> + +<p>"I met him by chance, in a place where I sometimes go of an evening to +smoke a cigar, and learned his name by accident," continued Mr. Taylor. +"It's the same man that was at Kedge and Reck's, George Gorton; he +acknowledged it at once, quite readily."</p> + +<p>"And where has he been hiding himself?"</p> + +<p>"He has been in Australia for several years, he says; went there directly +after he left Kedge and Reck's that autumn."</p> + +<p>"Could you get him here, Taylor? I must see him. Tell me: what coloured +hair has he?"</p> + +<p>"Red, sir; and plenty of it. He says he's doing very well over there, +and has only come home for a short change. He does not seem to be in +concealment, and gave me his address when I asked him for it."</p> + +<p>According to Mr. Carr's wish, the man Gorton was brought to his chambers +the following morning by Taylor. To the barrister's surprise, a +well-dressed and really rather gentlemanly man entered. He had been +accustomed to picturing this Gorton as an Arab of London life. Casting +a keen glance at the red hair, he saw it was indisputably his own.</p> + +<p>A few rapid questions, which Gorton answered without the slightest demur, +and Mr. Carr leaned back in his chair, knowing that all the trouble he +had been at to find this man might have been spared: for he was not the +George Gordon they had suspected. But Mr. Carr was cautious, and betrayed +nothing.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to have troubled you," he said. "When I inquired for you of +Kedge and Reck some years ago, it was under the impression that you were +some one else. You had left; and they did not know where to find you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had displeased them through arresting a wrong man, and other +things. I was down in the world then, and glad to do anything for a +living, even to serving writs."</p> + +<p>"You arrested the late Lord Hartledon for his brother," observed Mr. +Carr, with a careless smile. "I heard of it. I suppose you did not know +them apart."</p> + +<p>"I had never set eyes on either of them before," returned Gorton; +unconsciously confirming a point in the barrister's mind; which, however, +was already sufficiently obvious.</p> + +<p>"The man I wanted to find was named Gordon. I thought it just possible +that you might have changed your name temporarily: some of us finding it +convenient to do so on occasion."</p> + +<p>"I never changed mine in my life."</p> + +<p>"And if you had, I don't suppose you'd have changed it to one so +notorious as George Gordon."</p> + +<p>"Notorious?"</p> + +<p>"It was a George Gordon who was the hero of that piratical affair; that +mutiny on board the <i>Morning Star</i>."</p> + +<p>"Ah, to be sure. And an awful villain too! A man I met in Australia knew +Gordon well. But he tells a curious tale, though. He was a doctor, that +Gordon; had come last from somewhere in Kirkcudbrightshire."</p> + +<p>"He did," said Thomas Carr, quietly. "What curious tale does your friend +tell?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, he says—or rather said, for I've not seen him since my first +visit there—that George Gordon did not sail in the <i>Morning Star</i>. He +was killed in a drunken brawl the night before he ought to have sailed: +this man was present and saw him buried."</p> + +<p>"But there's pretty good proof that Gordon did sail. He was the +ringleader of the mutiny."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. I don't know how it could have been. The man was positive. +I never knew Gordon; so that the affair did not interest me much."</p> + +<p>"You are doing well over there?"</p> + +<p>"Very well. I might retire now, if I chose to live in a small way, but I +mean to take a few more years of it, and go on to riches. Ah! and it was +just the turn of a pin whether I went over there that second time, or +whether I stopped in London to serve writs and starve."</p> + +<p>"Val was right," thought the barrister.</p> + +<p>On the following Saturday Mr. Carr took a return-ticket, and went down +to Hartledon: as he had done once or twice before in the old days. The +Hartledons had not come to town this season; did not intend to come: Anne +was too happy in the birth of her baby-boy to care for London; and Val +liked Hartledon better than any other place now.</p> + +<p>In one single respect the past year had failed to bring Anne +happiness—there was not entire confidence between herself and her +husband. He had something on his mind, and she could not fail to see that +he had. It was not that awful dread that seemed to possess him in his +first wife's time; nevertheless it was a weight which told more or less +on his spirits at all times. To Anne it appeared like remorse; yet she +might never have thought this, but for a word or two he let slip +occasionally. Was it connected with his children? She could almost have +fancied so: and yet in what manner could it be? His behaviour was +peculiar. He rather avoided them than not; but when with them was almost +passionately demonstrative, exactingly jealous that due attention should +be paid to them: and he seemed half afraid of caressing Anne's baby, lest +it should be thought he cared for it more than for the others. Altogether +Lady Hartledon puzzled her brains in vain: she could not make him out. +When she questioned him he would deny that there was anything the matter, +and said it was her fancy.</p> + +<p>They were at Hartledon alone: that is, without the countess-dowager. +That respected lady, though not actually domiciled with them during the +past twelve-month, had paid them three long visits. She was determined +to retain her right in the household—if right it could be called. The +dowager was by far too wary to do otherwise; and her behaviour to Anne +was exceedingly mild. But somehow she contrived to retain, or continually +renew, her evil influence over the children; though so insidiously, that +Lady Hartledon could never detect how or when it was done, or openly meet +it. Neither could she effectually counteract it. So surely as the dowager +came, so surely did the young boy and his sister become unruly with their +step-mother; ill-natured and rude. Lady Hartledon was kind, judicious, +and good; and things would so far be remedied during the crafty dowager's +absences, as to promise a complete cure; but whenever she returned the +evil broke out again. Anne was sorely perplexed. She did not like to deny +the children to their grandmother, who was more nearly related to them +than she herself; and she could only pray that time would bring about +some remedy. The dowager passed her time pretty equally between their +house and her son's. Lord Kirton had not married again, owing, perhaps, +to the watch and ward kept over him. But as soon as he started off to the +Continent, or elsewhere, where she could not follow him, then off she +came, without notice, to England and Lord Hartledon's. And Val, in his +good-nature, bore the infliction passively so long as she kept civil and +peaceable.</p> + +<p>In this also her husband's behaviour puzzled Anne. Disliking the dowager +beyond every other created being, he yet suffered her to indulge his +children; and if any little passage-at-arms supervened, took her part +rather than his wife's.</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand you, Val," Anne said to him one day, in tones of +pain. "You are not as you used to be." And his only answer was to strain +his wife to his bosom with an impassioned gesture of love.</p> + +<p>But these were only episodes in their generally happy life. Never more +happy, more free from any external influence, than when Thomas Carr +arrived there on this identical Saturday. He went in unexpectedly: and +Val's violet eyes, beautiful as ever, shone out their welcome; and Anne, +who happened to have her baby on her lap, blushed and smiled, as she held +it out for the barrister's inspection.</p> + +<p>"I dare not take it," said he. "You would be up in arms if it were +dropped. What is its name?"</p> + +<p>"Reginald."</p> + +<p>A little while, and she carried the child away, leaving them alone. Mr. +Carr declined refreshment for the present; and he and Val strolled out +arm-in-arm.</p> + +<p>"I have brought you an item of news, Hartledon. Gorton has turned up."</p> + +<p>"Not Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"No. And what's more, Gorton never was Gordon. You were right, and +I was wrong. I would have bet a ten-pound note—a great venture for a +barrister—that the men were the same; never, in point of fact, had a +doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"You would not listen to me," said Val. "I told you I was sure I could +not have failed to recognize Gordon, had he been the one who was down at +Calne with the writ."</p> + +<p>"But you acknowledged that it might have been he, nevertheless; that his +red hair might have been false; that you never had a distinct view of the +man's face; and that the only time you spoke to him was in the gloaming," +reiterated Thomas Carr. "Well, as it turns out, we might have spared half +our pains and anxiety, for Gorton was never any one but himself: an +innocent sheriff's officer, as far as you are concerned, who had never, +in his life set eyes on Val Elster until he went after him to Calne."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I say so?" reiterated Val. "Gordon would have known me too well +to arrest Edward for me."</p> + +<p>"But you admitted the general likeness between you and your brother; and +Gordon had not seen you for three years or more."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I admitted all you say, and perhaps was a little doubtful myself. +But I soon shook off the doubt, and of late years have been sure that +Gordon was really dead. It has been more than a conviction. I always said +there were no grounds for connecting the two together."</p> + +<p>"I had my grounds for doing it," remarked the barrister. "Gorton, it +seems, has been in Australia ever since. No wonder Green could not +unearth him in London. He's back again on a visit, looking like a +gentleman; and really I can't discover that there was ever anything +against him, except that he was down in the world. Taylor met him the +other day, and I had him brought to my chambers; and have told you the +result."</p> + +<p>"You do not now feel any doubt that Gordon's dead?"</p> + +<p>"None at all. Your friend, Gordon of Kircudbright, was the one who +embarked, or ought to have embarked, on the <i>Morning Star</i>, homeward +bound," said Mr. Carr. And he forthwith told Lord Hartledon what the man +had said.</p> + +<p>A silence ensued. Lord Hartledon was in deep and evidently not pleasant +thought; and the barrister stole a glance at him.</p> + +<p>"Hartledon, take comfort. I am as cautious by nature as I believe it is +possible for any one to be; and I am sure the man is dead, and can never +rise up to trouble you."</p> + +<p>"I have been sure of that for years," replied Hartledon quietly. "I have +just said so."</p> + +<p>"Then what is disturbing you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Carr, how can you ask it?" came the rejoinder. "What is it lies on +my mind day and night; is wearing me out before my time? Discovery may be +avoided; but when I look at the children—at the boy especially—it would +have turned some men mad," he more quietly added, passing his hand across +his brow. "As long as he lives, I cannot have rest from pain. The sins of +the fathers—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," interposed Mr. Carr, hastily. "Still the case is light, +compared with what we once dreaded."</p> + +<p>"Light for me, heavy for him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr remained with them until the Monday: he then went back to London +and work; and time glided on again. An event occurred the following +winter which shall be related at once; more especially as nothing of +moment took place in those intervening months needing special record.</p> + +<p>The man Pike, who still occupied his shed undisturbed, had been ailing +for some time. An attack of rheumatic fever in the summer had left him +little better than a cripple. He crawled abroad still when he was able, +and <i>would</i> do so, in spite of what Mr. Hillary said; would lie about the +damp ground in a lawless, gipsying sort of manner; but by the time winter +came all that was over, and Mr. Pike's career, as foretold by the +surgeon, was drawing rapidly to a close. Mrs. Gum was his good Samaritan, +as she had been in the fever some years before, going in and out and +attending to him; and in a reasonable way Pike wanted for nothing.</p> + +<p>"How long can I last?" he abruptly asked the doctor one morning. "Needn't +fear to say. <i>She</i>'s the only one that will take on; I shan't."</p> + +<p>He alluded to Mrs. Gum, who had just gone out. The surgeon considered.</p> + +<p>"Two or three days."</p> + +<p>"As much as that?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Pike. "When it comes to the last day I should like to see Lord +Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Why the last day?"</p> + +<p>The man's pinched features broke into a smile; pleasant and fair features +once, with a gentle look upon them. The black wig and whiskers lay near +him; but the real hair, light and scanty, was pushed back from the damp +brow.</p> + +<p>"No use, then, to think of giving me up: no time left for it."</p> + +<p>"I question if Lord Hartledon would give you up were you in rude health. +I'm sure he would not," added Mr. Hillary, endorsing his opinion rather +emphatically. "If ever there was a kindly nature in the world, it's his. +What do you want with him?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to say a word to him in private," responded Pike.</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better not wait to say it. I'll tell him of your wish. It's +all safe. Why, Pike, if the police themselves came they wouldn't trouble +to touch you now."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't much care if they did," said the man. "<i>I</i> haven't cared for +a long while; but there were the others, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Hillary.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Pike; "no need to tell him particulars; leave them +till I'm gone. I don't know that I'd like <i>him</i> to look me in the face, +knowing them."</p> + +<p>"As you will," said Mr. Hillary, falling in with the wish more readily +than he might have done for anyone but a dying man.</p> + +<p>He had patients out of Calne, beyond Hartledon, and called in returning. +It was a snowy day; and as the surgeon was winding towards the house, +past the lodge, with a quick step, he saw a white figure marching across +the park. It was Lord Hartledon. He had been caught in the storm, and +came up laughing.</p> + +<p>"Umbrellas are at a premium," observed Mr. Hillary, with the freedom long +intimacy had sanctioned.</p> + +<p>"It didn't snow when I came out," said Hartledon, shaking himself, and +making light of the matter. "Were you coming to honour me with a morning +call?"</p> + +<p>"I was and I wasn't," returned the surgeon. "I've no time for morning +calls, unless they are professional ones; but I wanted to say a word to +you. Have you a mind for a further walk in the snow?"</p> + +<p>"As far as you like."</p> + +<p>"There's a patient of mine drawing very near the time when doctors can do +no more for him. He has expressed a wish to see you, and I undertook to +convey the request."</p> + +<p>"I'll go, of course," said Val, all his kindliness on the alert. "Who is +it?"</p> + +<p>"A black sheep," answered the surgeon. "I don't know whether that will +make any difference?"</p> + +<p>"It ought not," said Val rather warmly. "Black sheep have more need of +help than white ones, when it comes to the last. I suppose it's a poacher +wanting to clear his conscience."</p> + +<p>"It's Pike," said Hillary.</p> + +<p>"Pike! What can he want with me? Is he no better?"</p> + +<p>"He'll never be better in this world; and to speak the truth, I think +it's time he left it. He'll be happier, poor fellow, let's hope, in +another than he has been in this. Has it ever struck you, Lord Hartledon, +that there was something strange about Pike, and his manner of coming +here?"</p> + +<p>"Very strange indeed."</p> + +<p>"Well, Pike is not Pike, but another man—which I suppose you will say is +Irish. But that he is so ill, and it would not be worth while for the law +to take him, he might be in mortal fear of your seeing him, lest you +betrayed him. He wanted you not to be informed until the last hour. I +told him there was no fear."</p> + +<p>"I would not betray any living man, whatever his crime, for the whole +world," returned Lord Hartledon; his voice so earnest as to amount to +pain. And the surgeon looked at him; but there rose up in his remembrance +how <i>he</i> had been avoiding betrayal for years. "Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Willy Gum."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon turned his head sharply under cover of the surgeon's +umbrella, for they were walking along together. A thought crossed him +that the words might be a jest.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Pike is Willy Gum," continued Mr. Hillary. "And there you have the +explanation of the poor mother's nervous terrors. I do pity her. The +clerk has taken it more philosophically, and seemed only to care lest the +fact should become known. Ah, poor thing! what a life hers has been! Her +fears of the wild neighbour, her basins for cats, are all explained now. +She dreaded lest Calne should suspect that she occasionally stole into +the shed under cover of the night with the basins containing food for its +inmate. There the man has lived—if you can call such an existence +living; Willy Gum, concealed by his borrowed black hair and whiskers. But +that he was only a boy when he went away, Calne would have recognized him +in spite of them."</p> + +<p>"And he is not a poacher and a snarer, and I don't know what all, leading +a lawless life, and thieving for his living?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon, +the first question that rose to the surface, amidst the many that were +struggling in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe the man has touched the worth of a pin belonging to +any one since he came here, even on your preserves. People took up the +notion from his wild appearance, and because he had no ostensible means +of living. It would not have done to let them know that he had his +supplies—sometimes money, sometimes food—from respectable clerk Gum's."</p> + +<p>"But why should he be in concealment at all? That bank affair was made +all right at the time."</p> + +<p>"There are other things he feared, it seems. I've not time to enter into +details now; you'll know them later. There he is—Pike: and there he'll +die—Pike always."</p> + +<p>"How long have you known it?"</p> + +<p>"Since that fever he caught from the Rectory some years ago. I recollect +your telling me not to let him want for anything;" and Lord Hartledon +winced at the remembrance brought before him, as he always did wince at +the unhappy past. "I never shall forget it. I went in, thinking Pike was +ill, and that he, wild and disreputable though he had the character of +being, might want physic as well as his neighbours. Instead of the +black-haired bear I expected to see, there lay a young, light, delicate +fellow, with a white brow, and cheeks pink with fever. The features +seemed familiar to me; little by little recognition came to me, and I +saw it was Willy Gum, whom every one had been mourning as dead. He said +a pleading word or two, that I would keep his secret, and not give him up +to justice. I did not understand what there was to give him up for then. +However, I promised. He was too ill to say much; and I went to the next +door, and put it to Gum's wife that she should go and nurse Pike for +humanity's sake. Of course it was what she wanted to do. Poor thing! she +fell on her knees later, beseeching me not to betray him."</p> + +<p>"And you have kept counsel all this time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the surgeon, laconically. "Would your lordship have done +otherwise, even though it had been a question of hanging?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I!</i> I wouldn't give a man a month at the treadmill if I could help it. +One gets into offences so easily," he dreamily added.</p> + +<p>They crossed over the waste land, and Mr. Hillary opened the door of +the shed with a pass-key. A lock had been put on when Pike was lying in +rheumatic fever, lest intruders might enter unawares, and see him without +his disguise.</p> + +<p>"Pike, I have brought you my lord. He won't betray you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE SHED RAZED.</h3> + + +<p>Closing the door upon them, the surgeon went off on other business, and +Lord Hartledon entered and bent over the bed; a more comfortable bed than +it once had been. It was the Willy Gum of other days; the boy he had +played with when they were boys together. White, wan, wasted, with the +dying hectic on his cheek, the glitter already in his eye, he lay there; +and Val's eyelashes shone as he took the worn hand.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, Willy. I had no suspicion it was you. Why did you not +confide in me?"</p> + +<p>The invalid shook his head. "There might have been danger in it."</p> + +<p>"Never from me," was the emphatic answer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lord, you don't know. I haven't dared to make myself known to a +soul. Mr. Hillary found it out, and I couldn't help myself."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon glanced round at the strange place: the rafters, the rude +walls. A fire was burning on the hearth, and the appliances brought to +bear were more comfortable than might have been imagined; but still—</p> + +<p>"Surely you will allow yourself to be removed to a better place, Willy?" +he said.</p> + +<p>"Call me Pike," came the feverish interruption. "Never that other name +again, my lord; I've done with it for ever. As to a better place—I shall +have that soon enough."</p> + +<p>"You wanted to say something to me, Mr. Hillary said."</p> + +<p>"I've wanted to say it some time now, and to beg your lordship's pardon. +It's about the late earl's death."</p> + +<p>"My brother's?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I was on the wrong scent a long time. And I can tell you what +nobody else will."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon lifted his head quickly; thoughts were crowding +impulsively into his mind, and he spoke in the moment's haste.</p> + +<p>"Surely you had not anything to do with that!"</p> + +<p>"No; but I thought your lordship had."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, quietly.</p> + +<p>"It's for my foolish and wicked and mistaken thought that I would crave +pardon before I go. I thought your lordship had killed the late lord, +either by accident or maliciously."</p> + +<p>"You must be dreaming, Pike!"</p> + +<p>"No; but I was no better than dreaming then. I had been living amidst +lawless scenes, over the seas and on the seas, where a life's not of much +account, and the fancy was easy enough. I happened to overhear a quarrel +between you and the earl just before his death; I saw you going towards +the spot at the time the accident happened, as you may remember—"</p> + +<p>"I did not go so far," interrupted Hartledon, wondering still whether +this might not be the wanderings of a dying man. "I turned back into the +trees at once, and walked slowly home. Many a time have I wished I had +gone on!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I was on the wrong scent. And there was that blow on his +temple to keep up the error, which I know now must have been done against +the estrade. I did suspect at the time, and your lordship will perhaps +not forgive me for it. I let drop a word that I suspected something +before that man Gorton, and he asked me what I meant; and I explained +it away, and said I was chaffing him. And I have been all this time, up +to a few weeks ago, learning the true particulars of how his lordship +died."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon decided that the man's mind was undoubtedly wandering.</p> + +<p>But Pike was not wandering. And he told the story of the boy Ripper +having been locked up in the mill. Mr. Ripper was almost a match for Pike +himself in deceit; and Pike had only learned the facts by dint of long +patience and perseverance and many threats. The boy had seen the whole +accident; had watched it from the window where he was enclosed, unable to +get out, unless he had torn away the grating. Lord Hartledon had lost all +command of the little skiff, his arm being utterly disabled; and it came +drifting down towards the mill, and struck against the estrade. The skiff +righted itself at once, but not its owner: there was a slight struggle, a +few cries, and he lay motionless, drifting later to the place where he +was found. Mr. Ripper's opinion was that he had lost his senses with the +blow on the temple, and fell an easy prey to death. Had that gentleman +only sacrificed the grating and his own reputation, he might have saved +him easily; and that fact had since been upon his conscience, making him +fear all sorts of things, not the least of which was that he might be +hanged as a murderer.</p> + +<p>This story he had told Pike at the time, with one reserve—he persisted +that he had not <i>seen</i>, only heard. Pike saw that the boy was still +not telling the whole truth, and suspected he was screening Lord +Hartledon—he who now stood before him. Mr. Ripper's logic tended to the +belief that he could not be punished if he stuck to the avowal of having +seen nothing. He had only heard the cries; and when Pike asked if they +were cries as if he were being assaulted, the boy evasively answered +"happen they were." Another little item he suppressed: that he found the +purse at the bottom of the skiff, after he got out of the mill, and +appropriated it to himself; and when he had fairly done that, he grew +more afraid of having done it than of all the rest. The money he +secreted, using it when he dared, a sixpence at a time; the case, with +its papers, he buried in the spot where his master afterwards found it. +With all this upon the young man's conscience, no wonder he was a little +confused and contradictory in his statements to Pike: no wonder he +fancied the ghost of the man he could have saved and did not, might now +and then be hovering about him. Pike learned the real truth at last; and +a compunction had come over him, now that he was dying, for having +doubted Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"My lord, I can only ask you to forgive me. I ought to have known you +better. But things seemed to corroborate it so: I've heard people say the +new lord was as a man who had some great care upon him. Oh, I was a +fool!"</p> + +<p>"At any rate it was not <i>that</i> care, Pike; I would have saved my +brother's life with my own, had I been at hand to do it. As to +Ripper—I shall never bear to look upon him again."</p> + +<p>"He's gone away," said Pike.</p> + +<p>"Where has he gone?"</p> + +<p>"The miller turned him off for idleness, and he's gone away, nobody knows +where, to get work: I don't suppose he'll ever come back again. This is +the real truth of the matter as it occurred, my lord; and there's no more +behind it. Ripper has now told all he knows, just as fully as if he had +been put to torture."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon remained with Pike some time longer, soothing the man as +much as it was in his power and kindly nature to soothe. He whispered a +word of the clergyman, Dr. Ashton.</p> + +<p>"Father says he shall bring him to-night," was the answer. "It's all a +farce."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear you say that," returned Lord Hartledon, gravely.</p> + +<p>"If I had never said a worse thing than that, my lord, I shouldn't hurt. +Unless the accounts are made up beforehand, parsons can't avail much at +the twelfth hour. Mother's lessons to me when a child, and her reading +the Bible as she sits here in the night, are worth more than Dr. Ashton +could do. But for those old lessons' having come home to me now, I might +not have cared to ask your forgiveness. Dr. Ashton! what is he? For an +awful sinner—and it's what I've been—there's only Christ. At times I +think I've been too bad even for Him. I've only my sins to take to Him: +never were worse in this world."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon went out rather bewildered with the occurrences of the +morning. Thinking it might be only kind to step into the clerk's, he +crossed the stile and went in without ceremony by the open back-door. +Mrs. Gum was alone in the kitchen, crying bitterly. She dried her eyes +in confusion, as she curtsied to her visitor.</p> + +<p>"I know all," he interrupted, in low, considerate tones, to the poor +suffering woman. "I have been to see him. Never mind explanations: let +us think what we can best do to lighten his last hours."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gum burst into deeper tears. It was a relief, no doubt: but she +wondered how much Lord Hartledon knew.</p> + +<p>"I say that he ought to be got away from that place, Mrs. Gum. It's not +fit for a man to die in. You might have him here. Calne! Surely my +protection will sufficiently screen him against tattling Calne!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, saying it was of no use talking to Willy about +removal; he wouldn't have it; and she thought herself it might be better +not. Jabez, too; if this ever came out in Calne, it would just kill him; +his lordship knew what he was, and how he had cared for appearances all +his life. No; it would not be for many more hours now, and Willy must die +in the shed where he had lived.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon sat down on the ironing-board, the white table underneath +the window, in the old familiar manner of former days; many and many a +time had he perched himself there to talk to her when he was young Val +Elster.</p> + +<p>"Only fancy what my life has been, my lord," she said. "People have +called me nervous and timid; but look at the cause I've had! I was just +beginning to get over the grief for his death, when he came here; and to +the last hour of my life I shan't get the night out of my mind! I and +Jabez were together in this very kitchen. I had come in to wash up the +tea-things, and Jabez followed me. It was a cold, dark evening, and the +parlour fire had got low. By token, my lord, we were talking of you; you +had just gone away to be an ambassador, or something, and then we spoke +of the wild, strange, black man who had crept into the shed; and Jabez, +I remember, said he should acquaint Mr. Marris, if the fellow did not +take himself off. I had seen him that very evening, at dusk, for the +first time, when his great black face rose up against mine, nearly +frightening me to death. Jabez was angry at such a man's being there, and +said he should go up to Hartledon in the morning and see the steward. +Just then there came a tap at the kitchen door, and Jabez went to it. +It was the man; he had watched the servant out, and knew we were alone; +and he came into the kitchen, and asked if we did not know him. Jabez +did; he had seen Willy later than I had, and he recognized him; and the +man took off his black hair and great black whiskers, and I saw it was +Willy, and nearly fainted dead away."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Lord Hartledon did not speak, and she resumed, after a +little indulgence in her grief.</p> + +<p>"And since then all our aim has been to hide the truth, to screen him, +and keep up the tale that we were afraid of the wild man. How it has +been done I know not: but I do know that it has nearly killed me. What +a night it was! When Jabez heard his story and forced him to answer all +questions, I thought he would have given Willy up to the law there and +then. My lord, we have just lived since with a sword over our heads!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon remembered the sword that had been over his own head, and +sympathized with them from the depths of his heart.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all," he said. "You are quite safe with me, Mrs. Gum."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that there's much more to tell," she sighed. "We took the +best precautions we could, in a quiet way, having the holes in the +shutters filled up, and new locks put on the doors, lest people might +look in or step in, while he sat here of a night, which he took to do. +Jabez didn't like it, but I'm afraid I encouraged it. It was so lonely +for him, that shed, and so unhealthy! We sent away the regular servant, +and engaged one by day, so as to have the house to ourselves at night. If +a knock came to the door, Willy would slip out to the wood-house before +we opened it, lest it might be anybody coming in. He did not come in +every night—two or three times a-week; and it never was pleasant; for +Jabez would hardly open his mouth, unless it was to reproach him. Heaven +alone knows what I've had to bear!"</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. Gum, I cannot understand. Why could not Willy have declared +himself openly to the world?"</p> + +<p>It was evidently a most painful question. Her eyes fell; the crimson +of shame flushed into her cheeks; and he felt sorry to have asked it.</p> + +<p>"Spare me, my lord, for I <i>cannot</i> tell you. Perhaps Jabez will: or Mr. +Hillary; he knows. It doesn't much matter, now death's so near; but I +think it would kill me to have to tell it."</p> + +<p>"And no one except the doctor has ever known that it was Willy?"</p> + +<p>"One more, my lord: Mirrable. We told her at once. I have had to hear all +sorts of cruel things said of him," continued Mrs. Gum. "That he thieved +and poached, and did I know not what; and we could only encourage the +fancy, for it put people off the truth as to how he really lived."</p> + +<p>"Amidst other things, they said, I believe, that he was out with the +poachers the night my brother George was shot!"</p> + +<p>"And that night, my lord, he sat over this kitchen fire, and never +stirred from it. He was ill: it was rheumatism, caught in Australia, +that took such a hold upon him; and I had him here by the fire till near +daylight in the morning, so as to keep him out of the damp shed. What +with fearing one thing and another, I grew into a state of perpetual +terror."</p> + +<p>"Then you will not have him in here now," said Lord Hartledon, rising.</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she said, her tears falling silently.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Gum, I came in just to say a word of true sympathy. You have +it heartily, and my services also, if necessary. Tell Jabez so."</p> + +<p>He quitted the house by the front-door, as if he had been honouring the +clerk's wife with a morning-call, should any curious person happen to be +passing, and went across through the snow to the surgeon's. Mr. Hillary, +an old bachelor, was at his early dinner, and Lord Hartledon sat down and +talked to him.</p> + +<p>"It's only rump steak; but few cooks can beat mine, and it's very good. +Won't your lordship take a mouthful by way of luncheon?"</p> + +<p>"My curiosity is too strong for luncheon just now," said Val. "I have +come over to know the rights and wrongs of this story. What has Willy Gum +been doing in the past years that it cannot be told?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that it would be safe to say while he's living."</p> + +<p>"Not safe! with me! Was it safe with you?"</p> + +<p>"But I don't consider myself obliged to give up to justice any poor +criminal who comes in my way," said the surgeon; and Val felt a little +vexed, although he saw that he was joking.</p> + +<p>"Come, Hillary!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Willy Gum was coming home in the <i>Morning Star</i>; and a +mutiny broke out—mutiny and murder, and everything else that's bad; and +one George Gordon was the ringleader."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Well?"</p> + +<p>"Willy Gum was George Gordon."</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Hartledon, not knowing how to accept the words. "How +could he be George Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"Because the real George Gordon never sailed at all; and this fellow Gum +went on board in his name, calling himself Gordon."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon leaned back in his chair and listened to the explanation. +A very simple one, after all. Gum, one of the wildest and most careless +characters possible when in Australia, gambled away, before sailing, +the money he had acquired. Accident made him acquainted with George +Gordon, also going home in the same ship and with money. Gordon was +killed the night before sailing—(Mr. Carr had well described it as +a drunken brawl)—killed accidentally. Gum was present; he saw his +opportunity, went on board as Gordon, and claimed the luggage—some +of it gold—already on board. How the mutiny broke out was less clear; +but one of the other passengers knew Gum, and threatened to expose him; +and perhaps this led to it. Gum, at any rate, was the ringleader, and +this passenger was one of the first killed. Gum—Gordon as he was +called—contrived to escape in the open boat, and found his way to land; +thence, disguised, to England and to Calne; and at Calne he had since +lived, with the price offered for George Gordon on his head.</p> + +<p>It was a strange and awful story: and Lord Hartledon felt a shiver run +through him as he listened. In truth, that shed was the safest and +fittest place for him to die in!</p> + +<p>As die he did ere the third day was over. And was buried as Pike, the +wild man, without a mourner. Clerk Gum stood over the grave in his +official capacity; and Dr. Ashton, who had visited the sick man, himself +read the service, which caused some wonder in Calne.</p> + +<p>And the following week Lord Hartledon caused the shed to be cleared +away, and the waste land ploughed; saying he would have no more tramps +encamping next door to Mr. and Mrs. Gum.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE DOWAGER'S ALARM.</h3> + + +<p>Again the years went on, bringing not altogether comfort to the house of +Hartledon. As Anne's children were born—there were three now—a sort of +jealous rivalry seemed to arise between them and the two elder children; +and this in spite of Anne's efforts to the contrary. The moving spring +was the countess-dowager, who in secret excited the elder children +against their little brothers and sister; but so craftily that Anne could +produce nothing tangible to remonstrate against. Things would grow +tolerably smooth during the old woman's absences; but she took good care +not to make those absences lengthened, and then all the ill-nature and +rebellion reigned triumphant.</p> + +<p>Once only Anne spoke of this, and that was to her father. She hinted at +the state of things, and asked his advice. Why did not Val interpose his +authority, and forbid the dowager the house, if she could not keep +herself from making mischief in it, sensibly asked the Rector. But Anne +said neither she nor Val liked to do this. And then the Rector fancied +there was some constraint in his daughter's voice, and she was not +telling him the whole case unreservedly. He inquired no further, only +gave her the best advice in his power: to be watchful, and counteract the +dowager's influence, as far as she could; and trust to time; doing her +own duty religiously by the children.</p> + +<p>What Anne had not mentioned to Dr. Ashton was her husband's conduct in +the matter. In that one respect she could read him no better than of old. +Devoted to her as he was, as she knew him to be, in the children's petty +disputes he invariably took the part of his first wife's—to the glowing +satisfaction of the countess-dowager. No matter how glaringly wrong they +might be, how tyrannical, Hartledon screened the elder, and—to use the +expression of the nurses—snubbed the younger. Kind and good though Lady +Hartledon was, she felt it acutely; and, to say the truth, was sorely +puzzled and perplexed.</p> + +<p>Lord Elster was an ailing child, and Mr. Brook, the apothecary, was +always in attendance when they were in London. Lady Hartledon thought the +boy's health might have been better left more to nature, but she would +not have said so for the world. The dowager, on the contrary, would have +preferred that half the metropolitan faculty should see him daily. She +had a jealous dread of anything happening to the boy, and Anne's son +becoming the heir.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon was a busy man now, and had a place in the +Government—though not as yet in the Cabinet. Whatever his secret care +might have been, it was now passive; he was a general favourite, and +courted in society. He was still young; the face as genial, the manners +as free, the dark-blue eyes as kindly as of yore; eminently attractive in +earlier days, he was so still; and his love for his wife amounted to a +passion.</p> + +<p>At the close of a sharp winter, when they had come up to town in January, +that Lord Hartledon might be at his post, and the countess-dowager was +inflicting upon them one of her long visits, it happened that Lord Elster +seemed very poorly. Mr. Brook was called in, and said he would send a +powder. He was called in so often to the boy as to take it quite as a +matter of course; and, truth to say, thought the present indisposition +nothing but a slight cold.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening the two boys happened to be alone in the nursery, +the nurse being temporarily absent from it. Edward was now a tall, +slender, handsome boy in knickerbockers; Reginald a timid little fellow, +several years younger—rendered timid by Edward's perpetual tyranny, +which he might not resent. Edward was quiet enough this evening; he felt +ill and shivery, and sat close to the fire. Casting his eyes upwards, he +espied Mr. Brook's powder on the mantelpiece, with the stereotyped +direction—"To be taken at bedtime." It was lying close to the jam-pot, +which the head-nurse had put ready. Of course he had the greatest +possible horror of medicine, and his busy thoughts began to run upon how +he might avoid that detestable powder. The little fellow was sitting on +the carpet playing with his bricks. Edward turned his eyes on his +brother, and a bright thought occurred to him.</p> + +<p>"Regy," said he, taking down the pot, "come here. Look at this jam: isn't +it nice? It's raspberry and currant."</p> + +<p>The child left his bricks to bend over the tempting compound.</p> + +<p>"I'll give it you every bit to eat before nurse comes back," continued +the boy, "if you'll eat this first."</p> + +<p>Reginald cast a look upon the powder his brother exhibited. "What is it?" +he lisped; "something good?"</p> + +<p>"Delicious. It's just come in from the sweet-stuff shop. Open your +mouth—wide."</p> + +<p>Reginald did as he was bid: opened his mouth to its utmost width, and the +boy shot in the powder.</p> + +<p>It happened to be a preparation of that nauseous drug familiarly known +as "Dover's powder." The child found it so, and set up a succession of +shrieks, which aroused the house. The nurse rushed in; and Lord and Lady +Hartledon, both of whom were dressing for dinner, appeared on the scene. +There stood Reginald, coughing, choking, and roaring; and there sat +the culprit, equably devouring the jam. With time and difficulty the +facts were elicited from the younger child, and the elder scorned to deny +them.</p> + +<p>"What a wicked, greedy Turk you must be!" ejaculated the nurse, who was +often in hot water with the elder boy.</p> + +<p>"But Reginald need not have screamed so," testily interposed Lord +Hartledon. "I thought one of them must be on fire. You naughty child, +why did you scream?" he continued, giving Reginald a slight tap on the +ear.</p> + +<p>"Any child would scream at being so taken by surprise," said Lady +Hartledon. "It is Edward who is in fault, not Reginald; and it is he who +deserves punishment."</p> + +<p>"And he should have it, if he were my son," boldly declared the nurse, as +she picked up the unhappy Reginald. "A great greedy boy, to swallow down +every bit of the jam, and never give his brother a taste, after poisoning +him with that nasty powder!"</p> + +<p>Edward rose, and gave the nurse a look of scorn. "The powder's good +enough for him: he is nothing but a young brat, and I am Lord Elster."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon felt provoked. "What is that you say, Edward?" she asked, +laying her hand upon his shoulder in reproval.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone, mamma. He'll never be anything but Regy Elster. <i>I</i> shall +be Lord Hartledon, and jam's proper for me, and it's fair I should put +upon him."</p> + +<p>The nurse flounced off with Reginald, and Lady Hartledon turned to her +husband. "Is this to be suffered? Will you allow it to pass without +correction?"</p> + +<p>"He means nothing," said Val. "Do you, Edward, my boy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do; I mean what I say. I shall stand up for myself and Maude."</p> + +<p>Hartledon made no remonstrance: only drew the boy to him, with a hasty +gesture, as though he would shield him from anger and the world.</p> + +<p>Anne, hurt almost to tears, quitted the room. But she had scarcely +reached her own when she remembered that she had left a diamond brooch in +the nursery, which she had just been about to put into her dress when +alarmed by the cries. She went back for it, and stood almost confounded +by what she saw. Lord Hartledon, sitting down, had clasped his boy in his +arms, and was sobbing over him; emotion such as man rarely betrays.</p> + +<p>"Papa, Regy and the other two are not going to put me and Maude out of +our places, are they? They can't, you know. We come first."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my boy; no one shall put you out," was the answer, as he +pressed passionate kisses on the boy's face. "I will stand by you for +ever."</p> + +<p>Very judicious indeed! the once sensible man seemed to ignore the evident +fact that the boy had been tutored. Lady Hartledon, a fear creeping over +her, she knew not of what, left her brooch where it was, and stole back +to her dressing-room.</p> + +<p>Presently Val came in, all traces of emotion removed from his features. +Lady Hartledon had dismissed her maid, and stood leaning against the arm +of the sofa, indulging in bitter rumination.</p> + +<p>"Silly children!" cried he; "it's hard work to manage them. And Edward +has lost his pow—"</p> + +<p>He broke off; stopped by the look of angry reproach from his wife, cast +on him for the first time in their married life. He took her hand and +bent down to her: fervent love, if ever she read it, in his eyes and +tones.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Anne; you are feeling this."</p> + +<p>"Why do you throw these slights on my children? Why are you not more +just?"</p> + +<p>"I do not intend to slight our children, Anne, Heaven knows. But I—I +cannot punish Edward."</p> + +<p>"Why did you ever make me your wife?" sighed Lady Hartledon, drawing her +hand away.</p> + +<p>His poor assumption of unconcern was leaving him quickly; his face was +changing to one of bitter sorrow.</p> + +<p>"When I married you," she resumed, "I had reason to hope that should +children be born to us, you would love them equally with your first; +I had a right to hope it. What have I done that—"</p> + +<p>"Stay, Anne! I can bear anything better than reproach from you."</p> + +<p>"What have I and my children done to you, I was about to ask, that you +take this aversion to them? lavishing all your love on the others and +upon them only injustice?"</p> + +<p>Val bent down, agitation in his face and voice.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Anne! you don't know. The danger is that I should love your +children better, far better than Maude's. It might be so if I did not +guard against it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand you," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, I understand myself only too well. I have a heavy burden +to bear; do not you—my best and dearest—increase it."</p> + +<p>She looked at him keenly; laid her hands upon him, tears gathering in her +eyes. "Tell me what the burden is; tell me, Val! Let me share it."</p> + +<p>But Val drew in again at once, alarmed at the request: and contradicted +himself in the most absurd manner.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to share, Anne; nothing to tell."</p> + +<p>Certainly this change was not propitiatory. Lady Hartledon, chilled and +mortified, disdained to pursue the theme. Drawing herself up, she turned +to go down to dinner, remarking that he might at least treat the children +with more <i>apparent</i> justice.</p> + +<p>"I am just; at least, I wish to be just," he broke forth in impassioned +tones. "But I cannot be severe with Edward and Maude."</p> + +<p>Another powder was procured, and, amidst much fighting and resistance, +was administered. Lady Hartledon was in the boy's room the first thing +in the morning. One grand quality in her was, that she never visited +her vexation on the children; and Edward, in spite of his unamiable +behaviour, did at heart love her, whilst he despised his grandmother; one +of his sources of amusement being to take off that estimable old lady's +peculiarities behind her back, and send the servants into convulsions.</p> + +<p>"You look very hot, Edward," exclaimed Lady Hartledon, as she kissed him. +"How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"My throat's sore, mamma, and my legs could not find a cold place all +night. Feel my hand."</p> + +<p>It was a child's answer, sufficiently expressive. An anxious look rose to +her countenance.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure your throat is sore?"</p> + +<p>"It's very sore. I am so thirsty."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon gave him some weak tea, and sent for Mr. Brook to come +round as soon as possible. At breakfast she met the dowager, who had +been out the previous evening during the powder episode. Lady Hartledon +mentioned to her husband that she had sent a message to the doctor, not +much liking Edward's symptoms.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with him?" asked the dowager, quickly. "What are his +symptoms?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I may be wrong," said Lady Hartledon, with a smile. "I won't infect +you with my fears, when there may be no reason for them."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager caught at the one word, and applied it in a manner +never anticipated. She was the same foolish old woman she had ever been; +indeed, her dread of catching any disorder had only grown with the years. +And it happened, unfortunately for her peace, that the disorder which +leaves its cruel traces on the most beautiful face was just then +prevalent in London. Of all maladies the human frame is subject to, +the vain old creature most dreaded that one. She rose up from her seat; +her face turned pale, and her teeth began to chatter.</p> + +<p>"It's small-pox! If I have a horror of one thing more than another, it's +that dreadful, disfiguring malady. I wouldn't stay in a house where it +was for a hundred thousand pounds. I might catch it and be marked for +life!"</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon begged her to be composed, and Val smothered a laugh. The +symptoms were not those of small-pox.</p> + +<p>"How should you know?" retorted the dowager, drowning the reassuring +words. "How should any one know? Get Pepps here directly. Have you sent +for him?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Anne. "I have more confidence in Mr. Brook where children are +concerned."</p> + +<p>"Confidence in Brook!" shrieked the dowager, pushing up her flaxen front. +"A common, overworked apothecary! Confidence in him, Lady Hartledon! +Elster's life may be in danger; he is my grandchild, and I insist on +Pepps being fetched to him."</p> + +<p>Anne sat down at once and wrote a brief note to Sir Alexander. It +happened that the message sent to Mr. Brook had found that gentleman away +from home, and the greater man arrived first. He looked at the child, +asked a few bland questions, and wrote a prescription. He did not say +what the illness might be: for he never hazarded a premature opinion. +As he was leaving the chamber, a servant accosted him.</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton wishes to see you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, Pepps," cried she, as he advanced, having loaded herself with +camphor, "what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I do not take upon myself to pronounce an opinion, Lady Kirton," +rejoined the doctor, who had grown to feel irritated lately at the +dowager's want of ceremony towards him. "In the early stage of a disorder +it can rarely be done with certainty."</p> + +<p>"Now don't let's have any of that professional humbug, Pepps," rejoined +her ladyship. "You doctors know a common disorder as soon as you see it, +only you think it looks wise not to say. Is it small-pox?"</p> + +<p>"It's not impossible," said the doctor, in his wrath.</p> + +<p>The dowager gasped.</p> + +<p>"But I do not observe any symptoms of that malady developing themselves +at present," added the doctor. "I think I may say it is not small-pox."</p> + +<p>"Good patience, Pepps! you'll frighten me into it. It is and it +isn't—what do you mean? What is it, if it's not that?"</p> + +<p>"I may be able to tell after a second visit. Good morning, Lady Kirton," +said he, backing out. "Take care you don't do yourself an injury with too +much of that camphor. It is exciting."</p> + +<p>In a short time Mr. Brook arrived. When he had seen the child and was +alone with Lady Hartledon, she explained that the countess-dowager had +wished Sir Alexander Pepps called in, and showed him the prescription +just written. He read it and laid it down.</p> + +<p>"Lady Hartledon," said he, "I must venture to disagree with that +prescription. Lord Elster's symptoms are those of scarlet-fever, and it +would be unwise to administer it. Sir Alexander stands of course much +higher in the profession than I do, but my practice with children is +larger than his."</p> + +<p>"I feared it was scarlet-fever," answered Lady Hartledon. "What is to be +done? I have every confidence in you, Mr. Brook; and were Edward my own +child, I should know how to act. Do you think it would be dangerous to +give him this prescription? You may speak confidentially."</p> + +<p>"Not dangerous; it is a prescription that will do neither harm nor +good. I suspect Sir Alexander could not detect the nature of the illness, +and wrote this merely to gain time. It is not an infrequent custom to +do so. In my opinion, not an hour should be lost in giving him a more +efficacious medicine; early treatment is everything in scarlet-fever."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon had been rapidly making up her mind. "Send in what you +think right to be taken, immediately," she said, "and meet Sir Alexander +in consultation later on."</p> + +<p>Scarlet-fever it proved to be; not a mild form of it; and in a very few +hours Lord Elster was in great danger, the throat being chiefly affected. +The house was in commotion; the dowager worse than any one in it. A +complication of fears beset her: first, terror for her own safety, and +next, the less abject dread that death might remove <i>her</i> grandchild. In +this latter fear she partly lost her personal fears, so far at any rate +as to remain in the house; for it seemed to her that the child would +inevitably die if she left it. Late in the afternoon she rushed into the +presence of the doctors, who had just been holding a second consultation.</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander Pepps recommended leeches to the throat: Mr. Brook +disapproved of them. "It is the one chance for his life," said Sir +Alexander.</p> + +<p>"It is removing nearly all chance," said Mr. Brook.</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander prevailed; and when they came forth it was understood that +leeches were to be applied. But here Lady Hartledon stepped in.</p> + +<p>"I dread leeches to the throat, Sir Alexander, if you will forgive me for +saying so. I have twice seen them applied in scarlet-fever; and the +patients—one a young lady, the other a child—in both cases died."</p> + +<p>"Madam, I have given my opinion," curtly returned the physician. "They +are necessary in Lord Elster's case."</p> + +<p>"Do you approve of leeches?" cried Lady Hartledon, turning to Mr. Brook.</p> + +<p>"Not altogether," was the cautious answer.</p> + +<p>"Answer me one question, Mr. Brook," said Lady Hartledon, in her +earnestness. "Would you apply these leeches were you treating the case +alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam, I would not."</p> + +<p>Anne appealed to her husband. When the medical men differed, she thought +the decision lay with him.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," returned Val, who felt perfectly helpless to +advise. "Can't you decide, Anne? You know more about children and illness +than I do."</p> + +<p>"I would do so without hesitating a moment were it my own child," she +replied. "I would not allow them to be put on."</p> + +<p>"No, you would rather see him die," interrupted the dowager, who +overheard the words, and most intemperately and unjustifiably answered +them.</p> + +<p>Anne coloured with shame for the old woman, but the words silenced her: +how was it possible to press her own opinion after that? Sir Alexander +had it all his own way, and the leeches were applied on either side the +throat, Mr. Brook emphatically asserting in Lady Hartledon's private ear +that he "washed his hands" of the measure. Before they came off the +consequences were apparent; the throat was swollen outwardly, on both +sides; within, it appeared to be closing.</p> + +<p>The dowager, rather beside herself on the whole, had insisted on the +leeches. Any one, seeing her conduct now, might have thought the invalid +boy was really dear to her. Nothing of the sort. A hazy idea had been +looming through her mind for years that Val was not strong; she had been +mistaking mental disease for bodily illness; and a project to have full +control of her grandchild, should he come into the succession +prematurely, had coloured her dreams. This charming prospect would be +ignominiously cut short if the boy went first.</p> + +<p>Sir Alexander saw his error. There must be something peculiar in Lord +Elster's constitution, he blandly said; it would not have happened in +another. Of course, anything that turns out a mistake always is in the +constitution—never in the treatment. Whether he lived or died now was +just the turn of a straw: the chances were that he would die. All that +could be done now was to endeavour to counteract the mischief by external +applications.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would let me try a remedy," said Lady Hartledon, wistfully. +"A compress of cold water round the throat with oilsilk over it. I have +seen it do so much good in cases of inward inflammation."</p> + +<p>Mr. Brook smiled: if anything would do good that might, he said, speaking +as if he had little faith in remedies now. Sir Alexander intimated that +her ladyship might try it; graciously observing that it would do no harm.</p> + +<p>The application was used, and the evening went on. The child had fallen +into a sort of stupor, and Mr. Brook came in again before he had been +away an hour, and leaned anxiously over the patient. He lay with his eyes +half-closed, and breathed with difficulty.</p> + +<p>"I think," he exclaimed softly, "there's the slightest shade of +improvement."</p> + +<p>"In the fever, or the throat?" whispered Lady Hartledon, who had not +quitted the boy's bedside.</p> + +<p>"In the throat. If so, it is due to your remedy, Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>"Is he in danger?"</p> + +<p>"In great danger. Still, I see a gleam of hope."</p> + +<p>After the surgeon's departure, she went down to her husband, meeting +Hedges on the stairs, who was coming to inquire after the patient for his +master, for about the fiftieth time. Hartledon was in the library, pacing +about incessantly in the darkness, for the room was only lighted by the +fire. Anne closed the door and approached him.</p> + +<p>"Percival, I do not bring you very good tidings," she said; "and yet they +might be worse. Mr. Brook tells me he is in great danger, but thinks he +sees a gleam of hope."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon took her hand within his arm and resumed his pacing; his +eyes were fixed on the carpet, and he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Don't grieve as those without hope," she continued, her eyes filling +with tears. "He may yet recover. I have been praying that it may be so."</p> + +<p>"Don't pray for it," he cried, his tone one of painful entreaty. "I have +been daring to pray that it might please God to take him."</p> + +<p>"Percival!" she exclaimed, starting away from him.</p> + +<p>"I am not mad, Anne. Death would be a more merciful fate for my boy than +life. Death now, whilst he is innocent, safe in Christ's love!—death, in +Heaven's mercy!"</p> + +<p>And Anne crept back to the upper chamber, sick with terror; for she did +think that the trouble of his child's state was affecting her husband's +brain.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>A PAINFUL SCENE.</h3> + + +<p>Lord and Lady Hartledon were entertaining a family group. The everlasting +dowager kept to them unpleasantly; making things unbearable, and wearing +out her welcome in no slight degree, if she had only been wise enough to +see it. She had escaped scarlet-fever and other dreaded ills; and was +alive still. For that matter, the little Lord Elster had come out of it +also: <i>not</i> unscathed; for the boy remained a sickly wreck, and there was +very little hope that he would really recover. The final close might be +delayed, but it was not to be averted. Before Easter they had left London +for Hartledon, that he might have country air. Lord Hartledon's eldest +sister, Lady Margaret Cooper, came there with her husband; and on this +day the other sister, Lady Laura Level, had arrived from India. Lady +Margaret was an invalid, and not an agreeable woman besides; but to Laura +and Anne the meeting, after so many years' separation, was one of intense +pleasure. They had been close friends from childhood.</p> + +<p>They were all gathered together in the large drawing-room after luncheon. +The day was a wet one, and no one had ventured out except Sir James +Cooper. Accustomed to the Scotch mists, this rain seemed a genial shower, +and Sir James was enjoying it accordingly. It was a warm, close day, in +spite of the rain; and the large fire in the grate made the room +oppressive, so that they were glad to throw the windows open.</p> + +<p>Lying on a sofa near the fire was the invalid boy. By merely looking at +him you might see that he would never rally, though he fluctuated much. +To-day he was, comparatively speaking, well. Little Maude was threading +beads; and the two others, much younger, stood looking on—Reginald +and Anne. Lady Margaret Cooper, having a fellow-feeling for an invalid, +sat near the sick boy. Lord Hartledon sat apart at a table reading, and +making occasional notes. The dowager, more cumbersome than ever, dozed on +the other side of the hearth. She was falling into the habit of taking a +nap after luncheon as well as after dinner. Lady Laura was in danger of +convulsions every time she looked at the dowager. Never in all her life +had she seen so queer an old figure. She and Anne stood together at an +open window, the one eagerly asking questions, the other answering, all +in undertones. Lady Laura had been away from her own home and kindred +some twelve years, and it seemed to her half a lifetime.</p> + +<p>"Anne, how <i>was</i> it?" she exclaimed. "It was a thing that always puzzled +me, and I never came to the bottom of it. My husband said at the time I +used to talk of it in my sleep."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"About you and Val. You were engaged to each other; you loved him, and he +loved you. How came that other marriage about?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can hardly tell you. I was at Cannes with mamma, and he fell +into the meshes. We knew nothing about it until they were married. Never +mind all that now; I don't care to recall it, and it is a very sore point +with Val. The blame, I believe, lay chiefly with <i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>Anne glanced at the dowager, to indicate whom she meant. Lady Laura's +eyes followed the same direction, and she laughed.</p> + +<p>"A painted old guy! She looks like one who would do it. Why doesn't some +one put her under a glass case and take her to the British Museum? When +news of the marriage came out to India I was thunderstruck. I wrote off +at once to Val, asking all sorts of questions, and received quite a +savage reply, telling me to mind my own business. That letter alone would +have told me how Val repented; it was so unlike him. Do you know what I +did?"</p> + +<p>"What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"Sent him another letter by return mail with only two words in +it—'Elster's Folly.' Poor Val! She died of heart-disease, did she not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But she seemed to have been ailing for some time. She was greatly +changed."</p> + +<p>"Val is changed. There are threads of silver in his hair; and he is so +much quieter than I thought he ever would be. I wonder you took him, +Anne, after all; and I wonder still more that Dr. Ashton allowed it."</p> + +<p>A blush tinged Lady Hartledon's face as she looked out at the soft rain, +and a half-smile parted her lips.</p> + +<p>"I see, Anne. Love once, love ever; and I suppose it was the same with +Val, in spite of his folly. I should have taken out my revenge by +marrying the first eligible man that offered himself. Talking of +that—is poor Mr. Graves married yet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at last," said Anne, laughing. "A grand match too for him, poor +timid man: his wife's a lord's daughter, and as tall as a house."</p> + +<p>"If ever man worshipped woman he worshipped you, though you were only a +girl."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Laura."</p> + +<p>"Anne, you knew it quite well; and so did Val. Did he ever screw his +courage up to the point of proposing?"</p> + +<p>Anne laughed. "If he ever did, I was too vexed to answer him. He will be +very happy, Laura. His wife is a meek, amiable woman, in spite of her +formidable height."</p> + +<p>"And now I want you to tell me one thing—How was it that Edward could +not be saved?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Lady Hartledon did not understand, and turned her eyes on +the boy.</p> + +<p>"I mean my brother, Anne. When news came out to India that he had died in +that shocking manner, following upon poor George—I don't care now to +recall how I felt. Was there <i>no</i> one at hand to save him?"</p> + +<p>"No one. A sad fatality seemed to attend it altogether. Val regrets his +brother bitterly to this day."</p> + +<p>"And that poor Willy Gum was killed at sea, after all!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Anne, shortly. "When you spoke of Edward," returning to the +other subject, "I thought you meant the boy."</p> + +<p>Lady Laura shook her head. "He will never get well, Anne. Death is +written on his face."</p> + +<p>"You would say so, if you saw him some days. He is excitable, and your +coming has roused him. I never saw any one fluctuate so; one day dying, +the next better again. For myself I have very little hope, and Mr. +Hillary has none; but I dare not say so to Margaret and the dowager."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It makes them angry. They cannot bear to hear there's a possibility of +his death. Margaret may see the danger, but I don't believe the dowager +does."</p> + +<p>"Their wishes must blind them," observed Lady Laura. "The dowager seems +all fury and folly. She scarcely gave herself time to welcome me this +morning, or to inquire how I was after my long voyage; but began +descanting on a host of evils, the chief being that her grandson should +have had fever."</p> + +<p>"She would like him to bear a charmed life. Not for love of him, Laura."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"I do not believe she has a particle of love for him. Don't think me +uncharitable; it is the truth; Val will tell you the same. She is not +capable of experiencing common affection for any one; every feeling of +her nature is merged in self-interest. Had her daughter left another boy +she would not be dismayed at the prospect of this one's death; whether he +lived or died, it would be all one to her. The grievance is that Reginald +should have the chance of succeeding."</p> + +<p>"Because he is your son. I understand. A vain, puffed-up old thing! the +idea of her still painting her face and wearing false curls! I wonder you +tolerate her in your house, Anne! She's always here."</p> + +<p>"How can I help myself? She considers, I believe, that she has more right +in this house than I have."</p> + +<p>"Does she make things uncomfortable?"</p> + +<p>"More so than I have ever confessed, even to my husband. From the hour of +my marriage she set the two children against me, and against my children +when they came; and she never ceases to do so still."</p> + +<p>"Why do you submit to it?"</p> + +<p>"She is their grandmother, and I cannot well deny her the house. Val +might do so, but he does not. Perhaps I should have had courage to +attempt it, for the children's own sake, it is so shocking to train them +to ill-nature, but that he appears to think as she does. The petty +disputes between the children are frequent—for my two elder ones are +getting of an age to turn again when put upon—but their father never +corrects Edward and Maude, or allows them to be corrected; let them do +what wrong they will, he takes their part. I believe that if Edward +<i>killed</i> one of my children, he would only caress him."</p> + +<p>Lady Laura turned her eyes on the speaker's face, on its flush of pain +and mortification.</p> + +<p>"And Val loved you: and did <i>not</i> love Maude! What does it mean, Anne?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you. Things altogether are growing more than I can bear."</p> + +<p>"Margaret has been with you some time; has she not interfered, or tried +to put things upon a right footing?"</p> + +<p>Anne shook her head. "She espouses the dowager's side; upholds the two +children in their petty tyranny. No one in the house takes my part, or my +children's."</p> + +<p>"That is just like Margaret. Do you remember how you and I used to dread +her domineering spirit when we were girls? It's time I came, I think, to +set things right."</p> + +<p>"Laura, neither you nor any one else can set things right. They have been +wrong too long. The worst is, I cannot see what the evil is, as regards +Val. If I ask him he repels me, or laughs at me, and tells me I am +fanciful. That he has some secret trouble I have long known: his days are +unhappy, his nights restless; often when he thinks me asleep I am +listening to his sighs. I am glad you have come home; I have wanted a +true friend to confide these troubles to, and I could only speak of them +to one of the family."</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a romance," cried Laura. "Some secret grief! What can it +be?"</p> + +<p>They were interrupted by a commotion. Maude had been threading a splendid +ring all the colours of the rainbow, and now exhibited it for the benefit +of admiring beholders.</p> + +<p>"Papa—Aunt Margaret—look at my ring."</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon nodded pleasantly at the child from his distant seat; Lady +Margaret appeared not to have heard; and Maude caught up a soft ball and +threw it at her aunt.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, it took a wrong direction, and struck the nodding dowager +on the nose. She rose up in a fury and some commotion ensued.</p> + +<p>"Make me a ring, Maude," little Anne lisped when the dowager had subsided +into her chair again. Maude took no notice; her finger was still lifted +with the precious ornament.</p> + +<p>"Can you see it from your sofa, Edward?"</p> + +<p>The boy rose and stretched himself. "Pretty well. You have put it on the +wrong finger, Maude. Ladies don't wear rings on the little finger."</p> + +<p>"But it won't go on the others," said Maude dolefully: "it's too small."</p> + +<p>"Make a larger one."</p> + +<p>"Make one for me, Maude," again broke in Anne's little voice.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't!" returned Maude. "You are big enough to thread beads for +yourself."</p> + +<p>"No, she's not," said Reginald. "Make her one, Maude."</p> + +<p>"No, don't, Maude," said Edward. "Let them do things for themselves."</p> + +<p>"You hear!" whispered Lady Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I do hear. And Val sits there and never reproves them; and the old +dowager's head and eyes are nodding and twinkling approval."</p> + +<p>Lady Laura was an energetic little woman, thin, and pale, and excessively +active, with a propensity for setting the world straight, and a tongue as +unceremoniously free as the dowager's. In the cause of justice she would +have stood up to battle with a giant. Lady Hartledon was about to make +some response, but she bade her wait; her attention was absorbed by the +children. Perhaps the truth was that she was burning to have a say in the +matter herself.</p> + +<p>"Maude," she called out, "if that ring is too small for you, it would do +for Anne, and be kind of you to give it her."</p> + +<p>Maude looked dubious. Left to herself, the child would have been generous +enough. She glanced at the dowager.</p> + +<p>"May I give it her, grand'ma?"</p> + +<p>Grand'ma was conveniently deaf. She would rather have cut the ring in +two than it should be given to the hated child: but, on the other hand, +she did not care to offend Laura Level, who possessed inconveniently +independent opinions, and did not shrink from proclaiming them. Seizing +the poker, she stirred the fire, and created a divertissement.</p> + +<p>In the midst of it, Edward left his sofa and walked up to the group and +their beads. He was very weak, and tottered unintentionally against Anne. +The touch destroyed her equilibrium, and she fell into Maude's lap. There +was no damage done, but the box of beads was upset on to the carpet. +Maude screamed at the loss of her treasures, rose up with anger, and +slapped Anne. The child cried out.</p> + +<p>"Why d'you hit her?" cried Reginald. "It was Edward's fault; he pushed +her."</p> + +<p>"What's that!" exclaimed Edward. "My fault! I'll teach you to say that," +and he struck Reginald a tingling slap on the cheek.</p> + +<p>Of course there was loud crying. The dowager looked on with a red face. +Lady Margaret Cooper, who had no children of her own, stopped her ears. +Lady Laura laid her hand on her sister-in law's wrist.</p> + +<p>"And you can witness these scenes, and not check them! You are changed, +indeed, Anne!"</p> + +<p>"If I interfere to protect my children, I am checked and prevented," +replied Lady Hartledon, with quivering lips. "This scene is nothing to +what we have sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Who checks you—Val?"</p> + +<p>"The dowager. But he does not interpose for me. Where the children are +concerned, he tacitly lets her have sway. It is not often anything of +this sort takes place in his presence."</p> + +<p>The noise continued: all the children seemed to be fighting together. +Anne went forward and drew her own two out of the fray.</p> + +<p>"Pray send those two screamers to the nursery, Lady Hartledon," cried the +dowager.</p> + +<p>"I cannot think why they are allowed in the drawing-room at all," said +Lady Margaret, addressing no one in particular, unless it was the +ceiling. "Edward and Maude would be quiet enough without them."</p> + +<p>Anne did not retort: she only glanced at her husband, silent reproach on +her pale face, and took up Anne in her arms to carry her from the room. +But Lady Laura, impulsive and warm, came forward and stopped the exit.</p> + +<p>"Lady Kirton, I am ashamed of you! Margaret, I am ashamed of you! I am +ashamed of you all. You are doing the children a lasting injury, and you +are guilty of cruel insult to Lady Hartledon. This is the second scene I +have been a witness to, when the elder children were encouraged to behave +badly to the younger; the first was in the nursery this morning; and I +have been here only a few hours. And you, Lord Hartledon, their head and +father, responsible for your children's welfare, can tamely sit by, and +suffer it, and see your wife insulted! Is this what you married Anne +Ashton for?"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon rose: a strange look of pain on his features. "You are +mistaken, Laura. I wish every respect to be shown to my wife; respect +from all. Anne knows it."</p> + +<p>"Respect!" scornfully retorted Lady Laura. "When you do not give her +so much as a voice in her own house; when you allow her children to be +trampled on, and beaten—<i>beaten</i>, sir—and she dare not interfere! +I blush for you, and could never have believed you would so behave to +your wife. Who are you, madam," turning again, in her anger, on the +countess-dowager, "and who are you, Margaret, that you should dare to +encourage Edward and Maude in rebellion against their present mother?"</p> + +<p>Taken by surprise, the dowager made no answer. Lady Margaret looked +defiance.</p> + +<p>"You and Anne have invited me to your house on a lengthened visit, Lord +Hartledon," continued Laura; "but I promise you that if this is to +continue I will not remain in it; I will not witness insult to my early +friend; and I will not see children incited to evil passions. Undress +that child, sir," she sharply added, directing Val's attention to +Reginald, "and you will see bruises on his back and shoulder. I saw them +this morning, and asked the nurse what caused them and was told Lord +Elster kicked him."</p> + +<p>"It was the little beggar's own fault," interposed Edward, who was +standing his ground with equanimity, and seemed to enjoy the scene.</p> + +<p>Lady Laura caught him sharply by the arm. "Of whom are you speaking! +Who's a little beggar?"</p> + +<p>"Regy is."</p> + +<p>"Who taught you to call him one?"</p> + +<p>"Grand'ma."</p> + +<p>"There, go away; go away all of you," cried Lady Laura, turning the two +elder ones from the room imperatively, after Anne and her children. "Oh, +so you are going also, Val! No wonder you are ashamed to stay here."</p> + +<p>He was crossing the room; a curious expression on his drawn lips. Laura +watched him from it; then went and stood before the dowager; her back to +her sister.</p> + +<p>"Has it ever struck you, Lady Kirton, that you may one day have to +account for this?"</p> + +<p>"It strikes me that you are making a vast deal of unnecessary noise, +Madame Laura!"</p> + +<p>"If your daughter could look on, from the other world, at earth and +its scenes—and some hold a theory that such a state of things is not +impossible—what would be her anguish, think you, at the evil you are +inculcating in her children? One of them will very soon be with her—"</p> + +<p>The dowager interrupted with a sort of howl.</p> + +<p>"He will; there is no mistaking it. You who see him constantly may not +detect it; but it is evident to a stranger. Were it not beneath me, I +might ask on what grounds you tutor him to call Reginald a beggar, +considering that your daughter brought my brother nothing but a few +debts; whilst Miss Ashton brought him a large fortune?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't condescend to be mean, Laura," put in Lady Margaret, whilst +the dowager fanned her hot face.</p> + +<p>They were interrupted by Hedges, showing in visitors. How much more Lady +Laura might have said must remain unknown: she was in a mood to say a +great deal.</p> + +<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Graves."</p> + +<p>It was the curate; and the tall, meek woman spoken of by Anne. Laura +laughed as she shook hands with the former; whom she had known when a +girl, and been given to ridiculing more than was quite polite.</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon had left the room after his wife. She sent the children +to the nursery; and he found her alone in her chamber sobbing bitterly.</p> + +<p>Certainly he was a contradiction. He fondly took her in his arms, +beseeching her to pardon him, if he had unwittingly slighted her, as +Laura implied; and his blue eyes were beaming with affection, his voice +was low with persuasive tenderness.</p> + +<p>"There are times," she sobbed, "when I am tempted to wish myself back in +my father's house!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot think whence all this discomfort arises!" he weakly exclaimed. +"Of one thing, Anne, rest assured: as soon as Edward changes for the +better or the worse—and one it must inevitably be—that mischief-making +old woman shall quit my house for ever."</p> + +<p>"Edward will never change for the better," she said. "For the worse, he +may soon: for the better, never."</p> + +<p>"I know: Hillary has told me. Bear with things a little longer, and +believe that I will remedy them the moment remedy is possible. I am your +husband."</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon lifted her eyes to his. "We cannot go on as we are going +on now. Tell me what it is you have to bear. You remind me that you are +my husband; I now remind you that I am your wife: confide in me. I will +be true and loving to you, whatever it may be."</p> + +<p>"Not yet; in a little time, perhaps. Bear with me still, my dear wife."</p> + +<p>His look was haggard; his voice bore a sound of anguish; he clasped her +hand to pain as he left her. Whatever might be his care, Anne could not +doubt his love.</p> + +<p>And as he went into the drawing-room, a smile on his face, chatting with +the curate, laughing with his newly-married wife, both those unsuspicious +visitors could have protested when they went forth, that never was a man +more free from trouble than that affable servant of her Majesty's the +Earl of Hartledon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>EXPLANATIONS.</h3> + + +<p>A change for the worse occurred in the child, Lord Elster; and after two +or three weeks' sinking he died, and was buried at Hartledon by the side +of his mother. Hartledon's sister quitted Hartledon House for a change; +but the countess-dowager was there still, and disturbed its silence with +moans and impromptu lamentations, especially when going up and down the +staircase and along the corridors.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr, who had come for the funeral, also remained. On the day +following it he and Lord Hartledon were taking a quiet walk together, +when they met Mrs. Gum. Hartledon stopped and spoke to her in his kindly +manner. She was less nervous than she used to be; and she and her husband +were once more at peace in their house.</p> + +<p>"I would not presume to say a word of sympathy, my lord," she said, +curtseying, "but we felt it indeed. Jabez was cut up like anything when +he came in yesterday from the funeral."</p> + +<p>Val looked at her, a meaning she understood in his earnest eyes. "Yes, it +is hard to part with our children: but when grief is over, we live in the +consolation that they have only gone before us to a better place, where +sin and sorrow are not. We shall join them later."</p> + +<p>She went away, tears of joy filling her eyes. <i>She</i> had a son up there, +waiting for <i>her</i>; and she knew Lord Hartledon meant her to think of him +when he had so spoken.</p> + +<p>"Carr," said Val, "I never told you the finale of that tragedy. George +Gordon of the mutiny, did turn up: he lived and died in England."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"He died at Calne. It was that poor woman's son."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carr looked round for an explanation. He knew her as the wife of +clerk Gum, and sister to Hartledon's housekeeper. Val told him all, as +the facts had come out to him.</p> + +<p>"Pike always puzzled me," he said. "Disguised as he was with his black +hair, his face stained with some dark juice, there was a look in him that +used to strike some chord in my memory. It lay in the eyes, I think. +You'll keep these facts sacred, Carr, for the parents' sake. They are +known only to four of us."</p> + +<p>"Have you told your wife yet?" questioned Mr. Carr, recurring to a +different subject.</p> + +<p>"No. I could not, somehow, whilst the child lay dead in the house. She +shall know it shortly."</p> + +<p>"And what about dismissing the countess-dowager? You will do it?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be only too thankful to do it. All my courage has come back to +me, thank Heaven!"</p> + +<p>The Countess-Dowager of Kirton's reign was indeed over; never would he +allow her to disturb the peace of his house again. He might have to +pension her off, but that was a light matter. His intention was to speak +to her in a few days' time, allowing an interval to elapse after the +boy's death; but she forestalled the time herself, as Val was soon to +find.</p> + +<p>Dinner that evening was a sad meal—sad and silent. The only one who did +justice to it was the countess-dowager—in a black gauze dress and white +crêpe turban. Let what would betide, Lady Kirton never failed to enjoy +her dinner. She had a scheme in her head; it had been working there since +the day of her grandson's death; and when the servants withdrew, she +judged it expedient to disclose it to Hartledon, hoping to gain her +point, now that he was softened by sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Hartledon, I want to talk to you," she began, critically tasting her +wine; "and I must request that you'll attend to me."</p> + +<p>Anne looked up, wondering what was coming. She wore an evening dress of +black crêpe, a jet necklace on her fair neck, jet bracelets on her arms: +mourning far deeper than the dowager's.</p> + +<p>"Are you listening to me, Val?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready," answered Val.</p> + +<p>"I asked you, once before, to let me have Maude's children, and to allow +me a fair income with them. Had you done so, this dreadful misfortune +would not have overtaken your house: for it stands to reason that if Lord +Elster had been living somewhere else with me, he could not have caught +scarlet-fever in London."</p> + +<p>"We never thought he did catch it," returned Hartledon. "It was not +prevalent at the time; and, strange to say, none of the other children +took it, nor any one else in the house."</p> + +<p>"Then what gave it him?" sharply uttered the dowager.</p> + +<p>What Val answered was spoken in a low tone, and she caught one word only, +Providence. She gave a growl, and continued.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, he's gone; and you have now no pretext for refusing me +Maude. I shall take her, and bring her up, and you must make me a liberal +allowance for her."</p> + +<p>"I shall not part with Maude," said Val, in quiet tones of decision.</p> + +<p>"You can't refuse her to me, I say," rejoined the dowager, nodding her +head defiantly; "she's my own grandchild."</p> + +<p>"And my child. The argument on this point years ago was unsatisfactory, +Lady Kirton; I do not feel disposed to renew it. Maude will remain in her +own home."</p> + +<p>"You are a vile man!" cried the dowager, with an inflamed face. "Pass me +the wine."</p> + +<p>He filled her glass, and left the decanter with her. She resumed.</p> + +<p>"One day, when I was with Maude, in that last illness of hers in London, +when we couldn't find out what was the matter with her, poor dear, she +wrote you a letter; and I know what was in it, for I read it. You had +gone dancing off somewhere for a week."</p> + +<p>"To the Isle of Wight, on your account," put in Lord Hartledon, quietly; +"on that unhappy business connected with your son who lives there. Well, +ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"In that letter Maude said she wished me to have charge of her children, +if she died; and begged you to take notice that she said it," continued +the dowager. "Perhaps you'll say you never had that letter?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, madam, I admit receiving it," he replied. "I daresay I +have it still. Most of Maude's letters lie in my desk undisturbed."</p> + +<p>"And, admitting that, you refuse to act up to it?"</p> + +<p>"Maude wrote in a moment of pique, when she was angry with me. But—"</p> + +<p>"And I have no doubt she had good cause for anger!"</p> + +<p>"She had great cause," was his answer, spoken with a strange sadness that +surprised both the dowager and Lady Hartledon. Thomas Carr was twirling +his wine-glass gently round on the white cloth, neither speaking nor +looking.</p> + +<p>"Later, my wife fully retracted what she said in that letter," continued +Val. "She confessed that she had written it partly at your dictation, +Lady Kirton, and said—but I had better not tell you that, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Then you shall tell me, Lord Hartledon; and you are a two-faced man, if +you shuffle out of it."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Maude said that she would not for the whole world allow her +children to be brought up by you; she warned me also not to allow you to +obtain too much influence over them."</p> + +<p>"It's false!" said the dowager, in no way disconcerted.</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly true: and Maude told me you knew what her sentiments +were upon the point. Her real wish, as expressed to me, was, that the +children should remain with me in any case, in their proper home."</p> + +<p>"You say you have that other letter still?" cried the dowager, who was +not always very clear in her conversation.</p> + +<p>"No doubt."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you'll look for it: and read over her wishes in black and +white."</p> + +<p>"To what end? It would make no difference in my decision. I tell you, +ma'am, I am consulting Maude's wishes in keeping her child at home."</p> + +<p>"I know better," retorted the dowager, completely losing her temper. "I +wish your poor dear wife could rise from her grave and confute you. It's +all stinginess; because you won't part with a paltry bit of money."</p> + +<p>"No," said Val, "it's because I won't part with my child. Understand me, +Lady Kirton—had Maude's wishes even been with you in this, I should not +carry them out. As to money—I may have something to say to you on that +score; but suppose we postpone it to a more fitting opportunity."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't carry them out!" she cried. "But you might be forced to, +you mean man! That letter may be as good as a will in the eyes of the +law. You daren't produce it; that's what it is."</p> + +<p>"I'll give it you with pleasure," said Val, with a smile. "That is, if +I have kept it. I am not sure."</p> + +<p>She caught up her fan, and sat fanning herself. The reservation had +suggested a meaning never intended to her crafty mind; her rebellious +son-in-law meant to destroy the letter; and she began wondering how she +could outwit him.</p> + +<p>A sharp cry outside the door interrupted them. The children were only +coming in to dessert now; and Reginald, taking a flying leap down the +stairs, took rather too long a one, and came to grief at the bottom. +Truth to say, the young gentleman, no longer kept down by poor Edward, +was getting high-spirited and venturesome.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Anne, as the nurse came in with them, scolding.</p> + +<p>"Lord Elster fell down, my lady. He's getting as tiresome as can be. Only +to-day, I caught him astride the kitchen banisters, going to slide down +them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Regy," said his mother, holding up her reproving finger.</p> + +<p>The boy laughed, and came forward rubbing his arm, and ashamed of his +tears. Val caught him up and kissed them away, drawing Maude also to his +side.</p> + +<p>That letter! The dowager was determined to get it, if there was a +possibility of doing so. A suspicion that she would not be tolerated much +longer in Lady Hartledon's house was upon her, and she knew not where to +go. Kirton had married again; and his new wife had fairly turned her out +more unceremoniously than the late one did. By hook or by crook, she +meant to obtain the guardianship of her granddaughter, because in giving +her Maude, Lord Hartledon would have to allow her an income.</p> + +<p>She was a woman to stop at nothing; and upon quitting the dining-room she +betook herself to the library—a large, magnificent room—the pride of +Hartledon. She had come in search of Val's desk; which she found, and +proceeded to devise means of opening it. That accomplished, she sat +herself down, like a leisurely housebreaker, to examine it, putting on a +pair of spectacles, which she kept surreptitiously in a pocket, and would +not have worn before any one for the world. She found the letter she was +in search of; and she found something else for her pains, which she had +not bargained for.</p> + +<p>Not just at first. There were many tempting odds and ends of things to +dip into. For one thing, she found Val's banking book, and some old +cheque-books; they served her for some time. Next she came upon two +packets sealed up in white paper, with Val's own seal. On one was +written, "Letters of Lady Maude;" on the other, "Letters of my dear +Anne." Peering further into the desk, she came upon an obscure inner +slide, which had evidently not been opened for years, and she had +difficulty in undoing it. A paper was in it, superscribed, "Concerning +A.W.;" on opening which she found a letter addressed to Thomas Carr, of +the Temple.</p> + +<p>Thomas Carr's letters were no more sacred with her than Lord Hartledon's. +No woman living was troubled with scruples so little as she. It proved to +have been written by a Dr. Mair, in Scotland, and was dated several years +back.</p> + +<p>But now—did Lord Hartledon really know he had that dangerous letter by +him? If so, what could have possessed him to preserve it? Or, did he not +rather believe he had returned it to Mr. Carr at the time? The latter, +indeed, proved to be the case; and never, to the end of his life, would +he, in one sense, forgive his own carelessness.</p> + +<p>Who was A.W.? thought the curious old woman, as she drew the light nearer +to her, and began the tempting perusal, making the most of the little +time left. They could not be at tea yet, and she had told Lady Hartledon +she was going to take her nap in her own room. The gratification of +rummaging false Val's desk was an ample compensation; and the +countess-dowager hugged herself with delight.</p> + +<p>But what was this she had come upon—this paper "concerning A. W."? The +dowager's mouth fell as she read; and gradually her little eyes opened as +if they would start from their sockets, and her face grew white. Have you +ever watched the livid pallor of fear struggling to one of these painted +faces? She dashed off her spectacles; she got up and wrung her hands; +she executed a frantic war-dance; and finally she tore, with the letter, +into the drawing-room, where Val and Anne and Thomas Carr were beginning +tea and talking quietly.</p> + +<p>They rose in consternation as she danced in amongst them, and held out +the letter to Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>He took it from her, gazing in utter bewilderment as he gathered in its +contents. Was it a fresh letter, or—his face became whiter than the +dowager's. In her reckless passion she avowed what she had done—the +letter was secreted in his desk.</p> + +<p>"Have you dared to visit my desk?" he gasped—"break my seals? Are you +mad?"</p> + +<p>"Hark at him!" she cried. "He calls me to account for just lifting the +lid of a desk! But what is he? A villain—a thief—a spy—a murderer—and +worse than any of them! Ah, ha, my lady!" nodding her false front at +Lady Hartledon, who stood as one petrified, "you stare there at me with +your open eyes; but you don't know what you are! Ask <i>him</i>! What was +Maude—Heaven help her—my poor Maude? What was she? And <i>you</i> in the +plot; you vile Carr! I'll have you all hanged together!"</p> + +<p>Lord Hartledon caught his wife's hand.</p> + +<p>"Carr, stay here with her and tell her all. No good concealing anything +now she has read this letter. Tell her for me, for she would never listen +to me."</p> + +<p>He drew his wife into an adjoining room, the one where the portrait of +George Elster looked down on its guests. The time for disclosing the +story to his wife had been somewhat forestalled. He would have given half +his life that it had never reached that other woman, miserable old sinner +though she was.</p> + +<p>"You are trembling, Anne; you need not do so. It is not against you that +I have sinned."</p> + +<p>Yes, she was trembling very much. And Val, in his honourable, his +refined, shrinking nature, would have given his life's other half not +to have had the tale to tell.</p> + +<p>It is not a pleasant one. You may skip it if you please, and go on to the +last page. Val once said he had been more sinned against than sinning: it +may be deemed that in that opinion he was too lenient to himself. Anne, +his wife, listened with averted face and incredulous ears.</p> + +<p>"You have wanted a solution to my conduct, Anne—to the strange +preference I seemed to accord the poor boy who is gone; why I could not +punish him; why I was more thankful for the boon of his death than I had +been for his life. He was my child, but he was not Lord Elster."</p> + +<p>She did not understand.</p> + +<p>"He had no right to my name; poor little Maude has no right to it. Do you +understand me now?"</p> + +<p>Not at all; it was as though he were talking Greek to her.</p> + +<p>"Their mother, when they were born, was not my wife."</p> + +<p>"Their mother was Lady Maude Kirton," she rejoined, in her bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"That is exactly where it was," he answered bitterly. "Lady Maude Kirton, +not Lady Hartledon."</p> + +<p>She could not comprehend the words; her mind was full of consternation +and tumult. Back went her thoughts to the past.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Val! I remember papa's saying that a marriage in that unused chapel +was only three parts legal!"</p> + +<p>"It was legal enough, Anne: legal enough. But when that ceremony took +place"—his voice dropped to a miserable whisper, "I had—as they tell +me—a wife living."</p> + +<p>Slowly she admitted the meaning of the words; and would have started from +him with a faint cry, but that he held her to him.</p> + +<p>"Listen to the whole, Anne, before you judge me. What has been your +promise to me, over and over again?—that, if I would tell you my sorrow, +<i>you</i> would never shrink from me, whatever it might be."</p> + +<p>She remembered it, and stood still; terribly rebellious, clasping her +fingers to pain, one within the other.</p> + +<p>"In that respect, at any rate, I did not willingly sin. When I married +Maude I had no suspicion that I was not free as air; free to marry her, +or any other woman in the world."</p> + +<p>"You speak in enigmas," she said faintly.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Anne, whilst I give you the substance of the tale. Not its +details until I am more myself, and that voice"—pointing to the next +room—"is not sounding in my ears. You shall hear all later; at least, as +much as I know myself; I have never quite believed in it, and it has been +to me throughout as a horrible dream."</p> + +<p>Indeed Mr. Carr seemed to be having no inconsiderable amount of trouble, +to judge by the explosions of wrath on the part of the dowager.</p> + +<p>She sat down as he told her, her face turned from him, rebellious +at having to listen, but curious yet. Lord Hartledon stood by the +mantelpiece and shaded his eyes with his hand.</p> + +<p>"Send your thoughts into the past, Anne; you may remember that an +accident happened to me in Scotland. It was before you and I were +engaged, or it would not have happened. Or, let me say, it might not; +for young men are reckless, and I was no better than others. Heaven have +mercy on their follies!"</p> + +<p>"The accident might not have happened?"</p> + +<p>"I do not speak of the accident. I mean what followed. When out shooting +I nearly blew off my arm. I was carried to the nearest medical man's, a +Dr. Mair's, and remained there; for it was not thought safe to move me; +they feared inflammation, and they feared locked-jaw. My father was +written to, and came; and when he left after the danger was over he made +arrangements with Dr. Mair to keep me on, for he was a skilful man, and +wished to perfect the cure. I thought the prolonged stay in the strange, +quiet house worse than all the rest. That feeling wore off; we grow +reconciled to most conditions; and things became more tolerable as I grew +better and joined the household. There was a wild, clever, random young +man staying there, the doctor's assistant—George Gordon; and there was +also a young girl, Agnes Waterlow. I used to wonder what this Agnes did +there, and one day asked the old housekeeper; she said the young lady was +there partly that the doctor might watch her health, partly because she +was a relative of his late wife's, and had no home."</p> + +<p>He paused, as if in thought, but soon continued.</p> + +<p>"We grew very intimate; I, Gordon, and Miss Waterlow. Neither of them was +the person I should have chosen for an intimacy; but there was, in a +sense, no help for it, living together. Agnes was a wild, free, rather +coarse-natured girl, and Gordon drank. That she fell in love with me +there's no doubt—and I grew to like her quite well enough to talk +nonsense to her. Whether any plot was laid between her and Gordon to +entrap me, or whether what happened arose in the recklessness of the +moment, I cannot decide to this hour. It was on my twenty-first birthday; +I was almost well again; we had what the doctor called a dinner, Gordon a +jollification, and Agnes a supper. It was late when we sat down to it, +eight o'clock; and there was a good deal of feasting and plenty of wine. +The doctor was called out afterwards to a patient several miles distant, +and George Gordon made some punch; which rendered none of our heads the +steadier. At least I can answer for mine: I was weak with the long +illness, and not much of a drinker at any time. There was a great deal of +nonsense going on, and Gordon pretended to marry me to Agnes. He said or +read (I can't tell which, and never knew then) some words mockingly out +of the prayer-book, and said we were man and wife. Whilst we were all +laughing at the joke, the doctor's old housekeeper came in, to see what +the noise was about, and I, by way of keeping it up, took Agnes by the +hand, and introduced her as Mrs. Elster. I did not understand the woman's +look of astonishment then; unfortunately, I have understood it too well +since."</p> + +<p>Anne was growing painfully interested.</p> + +<p>"Well, after that she threw herself upon me in a manner that—that was +extraordinary to me, not having the key to it; and I—lost my head. Don't +frown, Anne; ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have lost theirs; and +you'll say so if ever I give you the details. Of course blame attached to +me; to me, and not to her. Though at the time I mentally gave her, I +assure you, her full share, somewhat after the manner of the Pharisee +condemning the publican. That also has come home to me: she believed +herself to be legally my wife; I never gave a thought to that evening's +farce, and should have supposed its bearing any meaning a simple +impossibility.</p> + +<p>"A short time, and letters summoned me home; my mother was dangerously +ill. I remember Agnes asked me to take her with me, and I laughed at her. +I arranged to write to her, and promised to go back shortly—which, to +tell you the truth, I never meant to do. Having been mistaking her, +mistaking her still, I really thought her worthy of very little +consideration. Before I had been at home a fortnight I received a letter +from Dr. Mair, telling me that Agnes was showing symptoms of insanity, +and asking what provision I purposed making for her. My sin was finding +me out; I wondered how <i>he</i> had found it out; I did not ask, and did not +know for years. I wrote back saying I would willingly take all expenses +upon myself; and inquired what sum would be required by the asylum—to +which he said she must be sent. He mentioned two hundred a-year, and from +that time I paid it regularly."</p> + +<p>"And was she really insane?" interrupted Lady Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she had been so once or twice before—and this was what the +housekeeper had meant by saying she was with the doctor that her health +might be watched. It appeared that when these symptoms came on, after I +left, Gordon took upon himself to disclose to the doctor that Agnes was +married to me, telling the circumstances as they had occurred. Dr. Mair +got frightened: it was no light matter for the son of an English peer to +have been deluded into marriage with an obscure and insane girl; and the +quarrel that took place between him and Gordon on the occasion resulted +in the latter's leaving. I have never understood Gordon's conduct in the +matter: very disagreeable thoughts in regard to it come over me +sometimes."</p> + +<p>"What thoughts?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind; they can never be set at rest now. Let me make short +work of this story. I heard no more and thought no more; and the years +went on, and then came my marriage with Maude. We went to Paris—<i>you</i> +cannot have forgotten any of the details of that period, Anne; and after +our return to London I was surprised by a visit from Dr. Mair. That +evening, that visit and its details stamped themselves on my memory for +ever in characters of living fire."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, and something like a shiver seized him. Anne said +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Maude had gone with some friends to a fête at Chiswick, and Thomas Carr +was dining with me. Hedges came in and said a gentleman wanted to see +me—<i>would</i> see me, and would not be denied. I went to him, and found it +was Dr. Mair. In that interview I learnt that by the laws of Scotland +Miss Waterlow was my wife."</p> + +<p>"And the suspicion that she was so had never occurred to you before?"</p> + +<p>"Anne! Should I have been capable of marrying Maude, or any one else, if +it had? On my solemn word of honour, before Heaven"—he raised his right +hand as if to give effect to his words—"such a thought had never crossed +my brain. The evening that the nonsense took place I only regarded it as +a jest, a pastime—what you will: had any one told me it was a marriage I +should have laughed at them. I knew nothing then of the laws of Scotland, +and should have thought it simply impossible that that minute's folly, +and my calling her, to keep up the joke, Mrs. Elster, could have +constituted a marriage. I think they all played a deep part, even Agnes. +Not a soul had so much as hinted at the word 'marriage' to me after that +evening; neither Gordon, nor she, nor Dr. Mair in his subsequent +correspondence; and in that he always called her 'Agnes.' However—he +then told me that she was certainly my legal wife, and that Lady Maude +was not.</p> + +<p>"At first," continued Val, "I did not believe it; but Dr. Mair persisted +he was right, and the horror of the situation grew upon me. I told all to +Carr, and took him up to Dr. Mair. They discussed Scottish law and +consulted law-books; and the truth, so far, became apparent. Dr. Mair was +sorry for me; he saw I had not erred knowingly in marrying Maude. As to +myself, I was helpless, prostrated. I asked the doctor, if it were really +true, why the fact had been kept from me: he replied that he supposed I +knew it, and that delicacy alone had caused him to abstain from alluding +to it in his letters. He had been very angry when Gordon told him, he +said; grew half frightened as to consequences; feared he should get into +trouble for allowing me to be so entrapped in his house; and he and +Gordon parted at once. And then Dr. Mair asked a question which I could +not very well answer, why, if I did not know she was my wife, I had paid +so large a sum for Agnes. He had been burying the affair in silence, as +he had assumed I was doing; and it was only the announcement of my +marriage with Maude in the newspapers that aroused him. He had thought +I was acting this bad part deliberately; and he went off at once to +Hartledon in anger; found I had gone abroad; and now came to me on my +return, still in anger, saying at first that he should proceed against +me, and obtain justice for Agnes. When he found how utterly ignorant of +wrong I had been, his tone changed; he was truly grieved and concerned +for me. Nothing was decided: except that Dr. Mair, in his compassion +towards Lady Maude, promised not to be the first to take legal steps. +It seemed that there was only him to fear: George Gordon was reported +to have gone to Australia; the old housekeeper was dead; Agnes was +deranged. Dr. Mair left, and Carr and I sat on till midnight. Carr took +what I thought a harsh view of the matter; he urged me to separate from +Maude—"</p> + +<p>"I think you should have done so for her sake," came the gentle +interruption.</p> + +<p>"For her sake! the words Carr used. But, Anne, surely there were two +sides to the question. If I disclosed the facts, and put her away from +me, what was she? Besides, the law might be against me—Scotland's +iniquitous law; but in Heaven's sight <i>Maude</i> was my wife, not the other. +So I temporized, hoping that time might bring about a relief, for Dr. +Mair told me that Miss Waterlow's health was failing. However, she +lived on, and—"</p> + +<p>Lady Hartledon started up, her face blanching.</p> + +<p>"Is she not dead now? Was she living when you married me? Am <i>I</i> your +wife?"</p> + +<p>He could hardly help smiling. His calm touch reassured her.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you need ask, Anne? The next year Dr. Mair called upon me +again—it was the evening before the boy was christened; he had come to +London on business of his own. To my dismay, he told me that a change for +the better was appearing in Miss Waterlow's mental condition; and he +thought it likely she might be restored to health. Of course, it +increased the perplexities and my horror, had that been needed; but the +hope or fear, or what you like to call it, was not borne out. Three years +later, the doctor came to me for the third and final time, to bring me +the news that Agnes was dead."</p> + +<p>As the relief had been to him then, so did it almost seem now to Anne. A +sigh of infinite pain broke from her. She had not seen where all this was +tending.</p> + +<p>"Imagine, if you can, what it was for me all those years with the +knowledge daily and nightly upon me that the disgraceful truth might at +any moment come out to Maude—to her children, to the world! Living in +the dread of arrest myself, should the man Gordon show himself on the +scene! And now you see what it is that has marred my peace, and broken +the happiness of our married life. How could I bear to cross those two +deeply-injured children, who were ever rising up in judgment against me? +How take our children's part against them, little unconscious things? It +seemed that I had always, daily, hourly, some wrong to make up to them. +The poor boy was heir to Hartledon in the eyes of the world; but, Anne, +your boy was the true heir."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not tell me?—all this time!"</p> + +<p>"I could not. I dared not. You might not have liked to put Reginald out +of his rights."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Percival; how can you so misjudge me?" she asked, in tones of pain. +"I would have guarded the secret as jealously as you. I must still do it +for Maude."</p> + +<p>"Poor Maude!" he sighed. "Her mother forgave me before she died—"</p> + +<p>"She knew it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She learned—"</p> + +<p>Sounds of drumming on the door, and the countess-dowager's voice, stopped +Lord Hartledon.</p> + +<p>"I had better face her," he said, as he unlocked it. "She will arouse the +household."</p> + +<p>Wild, intemperate, she met him with a volley of abuse that startled Lady +Hartledon. He got her to a sofa, and gently held her down there.</p> + +<p>"It's what I've been obliged to do all along," said Thomas Carr; "I don't +believe she has heard ten words of my explanation."</p> + +<p>"Pray be calm, Lady Kirton," said Hartledon, soothingly; "be calm, as you +value your daughter's memory. We shall have the servants at the doors."</p> + +<p>"I won't be calm; I will know the worst."</p> + +<p>"I wish you to know it; but not others."</p> + +<p>"Was Maude your wife?"</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, in low tones. "Not—"</p> + +<p>"And you are not ashamed to confess it?" she interrupted, not allowing +him to continue. But she was a little calmer in manner; and Val stood +upright before her with folded arms.</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed and grieved to confess it; but I did not knowingly inflict +the injury. In Scotland—"</p> + +<p>"Don't repeat the shameful tale," she cried; "I have heard from your +confederate, Carr, as much as I want to hear. What do you deserve for +your treachery to Maude?"</p> + +<p>"All I have reaped—and more. But it was not intentional treachery; and +Maude forgave me before she died."</p> + +<p>"She knew it! You told her? Oh, you cruel monster!"</p> + +<p>"I did not tell her. She did as you have just done—interfered in what +did not concern her, in direct disobedience to my desire; and she found +it out for herself, as you, ma'am, have found it out."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"The winter before her death."</p> + +<p>"Then the knowledge killed her!"</p> + +<p>"No. Something else killed her, as you know. It preyed upon her spirits."</p> + +<p>"Lord Hartledon, I can have you up for fraud and forgery, and I'll do it. +It will be the consideration of Maude's fame against your punishment, and +I'll make a sacrifice to revenge, and prosecute you."</p> + +<p>"There is no fraud where an offence is committed unwittingly," returned +Lord Hartledon; "and forgery is certainly not amongst my catalogue of +sins."</p> + +<p>"You are liable for both," suddenly retorted the dowager; "you have stuck +up 'Maude, Countess of Hartledon,' on her monument in the church; and +what's that but fraud and forgery?"</p> + +<p>"It is neither. If Maude did not live Countess of Hartledon, she at least +so went to her grave. We were remarried, privately, before she died. Mr. +Carr can tell you so."</p> + +<p>"It's false!" raved the dowager.</p> + +<p>"I arranged it, ma'am," interposed Mr. Carr. "Lord Hartledon and your +daughter confided the management to me, and the ceremony was performed in +secrecy in London"</p> + +<p>The dowager looked from one to the other, as if she were bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Married her again! why, that was making bad worse. Two false marriages! +Did you do it to impose upon her?"</p> + +<p>"I see you do not understand," said Lord Hartledon. "The—my—the person +in Scotland was dead then. She was dead, I am thankful to say, before +Maude knew anything of the affair."</p> + +<p>Up started the dowager. "Then is the woman dead now? was she dead when +you married <i>her</i>?" laying her hand upon Lady Hartledon's arm. "Are her +children different from Maude's?"</p> + +<p>"They are. It could not be otherwise."</p> + +<p>"Her boy is really Lord Elster?"</p> + +<p>She flung Lady Hartledon's arm from her. Her voice rose to a shriek.</p> + +<p>"Maude is not Lady Maude?"</p> + +<p>Val shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"And your children are lords and ladies and honourables," darting a look +of consternation at Anne, "whilst my daughter's—"</p> + +<p>"Peace, Lady Kirton!" sternly interrupted Val. "Let the child, Maude, be +Lady Maude still to the world; let your daughter's memory be held sacred. +The facts need never come out: I do not fear now that they ever will. I +and my wife and Thomas Carr, will guard the secret safely: take you care +to do so."</p> + +<p>"I wish you had been hung before you married Maude!" responded the +aggrieved dowager.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had," said he.</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" she grunted wrathfully, the ready assent not pleasing her.</p> + +<p>"With my poor boy's death the chief difficulty has passed away. How +things would have turned out, or what would have been done, had he lived, +it has well-nigh worn away my brain to dwell upon. Carr knows that it has +nearly killed me: my wife knows it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you could tell her things, and keep the diabolical secret from poor +Maude and from me," she returned, rather inconsistently. "I don't doubt +you and your wife have exulted enough over it."</p> + +<p>"I never knew it until to-night," said Anne, gently turning to the +dowager. "It has grieved me deeply. I shall never cease to feel for your +daughter's wrongs; and it will only make me more tender and loving to her +child. The world will never know that she is not Lady Maude."</p> + +<p>"And the other name—Elster—because you know she has no right to it," +was the spiteful retort. "I wish to my heart you had been drowned in your +brother's place, Lord Hartledon; I wished it at the time."</p> + +<p>"I know you did."</p> + +<p>"You could not then have made fools of me and my dear daughter; and the +darling little cherub in the churchyard would have been the real heir. +There'd have been a good riddance of you."</p> + +<p>"It might have been better for me in the long run," said he, quietly, +passing over the inconsistencies of her speech. "Little peace or +happiness have I had in living. Do not let us recriminate, Lady Kirton, +or on some scores I might reproach you. Maude loved my brother, and you +knew it; I loved Miss Ashton, and you knew that; yet from the very hour +the breath was out of my brother's body you laid your plans and began +your schemes upon me. I was weak as water in your hands, and fell into +the snare. The marriage was your work entirely; and in the fruits it has +brought forth there might arise a nice question, Lady Kirton, which of us +is most to blame: I, who erred unwittingly, or you who—"</p> + +<p>"Will you have done?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"I have nearly done. I only wish you to remember that others may have +been wrong, as well as myself. Dr. Ashton warned us that night that the +marriage might not bring a blessing. Anne, it was a cruel wrong upon +you," he added, impulsively turning to her; "you felt it bitterly, I +shamefully; but, my dear wife, you have lived to see that it was in +reality a mercy in disguise."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager, not finding words strong enough to express her +feelings at this, made a grimace at him.</p> + +<p>"Let us be friends, Lady Kirton! Let us join together silently in +guarding Maude's good name, and in burying the past. In time perhaps even +I may live it down. Not a human being knows of it except we who are here +and Dr. Mair, who will for his own sake guard the secret. Maude was my +wife always in the eyes of the world; and Maude certainly died so: all +peace and respect to her memory! As for my share, retribution has held +its heavy hand upon me; it is upon me still, Heaven knows. It was for +Maude I suffered; for Maude I felt; and if my life could have repaired +the wrong upon her, I would willingly have sacrificed it. Let us be +friends: it may be to the interest of both."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, and the dowager did not repulse it. She had caught +the word "interest."</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> you might allow me Maude and that income!"</p> + +<p>"I think I had better allow you the income without Maude."</p> + +<p>"Eh? what?" cried the dowager, briskly. "Do you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do. I have been thinking for some little time that you would be +more comfortable in a home of your own, and I am willing to help you to +one. I'll pay the rent of a nice little place in Ireland, and give you +six hundred a-year, paid quarterly, and—yes—make you a yearly present +of ten dozen of port wine."</p> + +<p>Ah, the crafty man! The last item had a golden sound in it.</p> + +<p>"Honour bright, Hartledon?"</p> + +<p>"Honour bright! You shall never want for anything as long as you live. +But you must not"—he seemed to search for his words—"you must undertake +not to come here, upsetting and indulging the children."</p> + +<p>"I'll undertake it. Good vintage, mind."</p> + +<p>"The same that you have here."</p> + +<p>The countess-dowager beamed. In the midst of her happiness—and it was +what she had not felt for many a long day, for really the poor old +creature had been put about sadly—she bethought herself of propriety. +Melting into tears, she presently bewailed her exhaustion, and said she +should like some tea: perhaps good Mr. Carr would bring her a teaspoonful +of brandy to put into it.</p> + +<p>They brought her hot tea, and Mr. Carr put the brandy into it, and +Anne took it to her on the sofa, and administered it, her own tears +overflowing. She was thinking what an awful blow this would have been +to her own mother.</p> + +<p>"Little Maude shall be very dear to me always, Val," she whispered. "This +knowledge will make me doubly tender with her."</p> + +<p>He laid his hand fondly upon her, giving her one of his sweet sad smiles +in answer. She could at length understand what feelings, in regard to the +children, had actuated him. But from henceforth he would be just to all +alike; and Maude would receive her share of correction for her own good.</p> + +<p>"I always said you did not give me back the letter," observed Mr. Carr, +when they were alone together later, and Val sat tearing up the letter +into innumerable bits.</p> + +<p>"And I said I did, simply because I could not find it. You were right, +Carr, as you always are."</p> + +<p>"Not always. But I am sorry it came to light in this way."</p> + +<p>"Sorry! it is the greatest boon that could have fallen on me. The secret +is, so to say, off my mind now, and I can breathe as I have not breathed +for years. If ever a heartfelt thanksgiving went up to Heaven one from me +will ascend to-night. And the dowager does not feel the past a bit. She +cared no more for Maude than for any one else. She can't care for any +one. Don't think me harsh, Carr, in saying so."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she does not feel it," emphatically assented Mr. Carr. "Had +she felt it she would have been less noisy. Thank heaven for your sake, +Hartledon, that the miserable past is over."</p> + +<p>"And over more happily than I deserved."</p> + +<p>A silence ensued, and Lord Hartledon flung the bits of paper carefully +into the fire. Presently he looked up, a strange earnestness in his face.</p> + +<p>"It is the custom of some of our cottagers here to hang up embossed cards +at the foot of their bed, with texts of Scripture written on them. There +is one verse I should like to hang before every son of mine, though I had +ten of them, that it might meet their eyes last ere the evening's +sleeping, in the morning's first awakening. The ninth verse of the +eleventh chapter of Ecclesiastes."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember," observed Thomas Carr, after a pause of thought.</p> + +<p>"'Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth: and let thy heart cheer thee in the +days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight +of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring +thee into judgment.'"</p> + + +<p>THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Elster's Folly, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSTER'S FOLLY *** + +***** This file should be named 16798-h.htm or 16798-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/9/16798/ + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Elster's Folly + +Author: Mrs. Henry Wood + +Release Date: October 4, 2005 [EBook #16798] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSTER'S FOLLY *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ELSTER'S FOLLY + + A NOVEL BY + + MRS. HENRY WOOD + + AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," "JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC. + + 1916 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. By the Early Train + + II. Willy Gum + + III. Anne Ashton + + IV. The Countess-Dowager + + V. Jealousy + + VI. At the Bridge + + VII. Listeners + + VIII. The Wager Boats + + IX. Waiting for Dinner + + X. Mr. Pike's Visit + + XI. The Inquest + + XII. Later in the Day + + XIII. Fever + + XIV. Another Patient + + XV. Val's Dilemma + + XVI. Between the Two + + XVII. An Agreeable Wedding + + XVIII. The Stranger + + XIX. A Chance Meeting + + XX. The Stranger Again + + XXI. Secret Care + + XXII. Asking the Rector + + XXIII. Mr. Carr at Work + + XXIV. Somebody Else at Work + + XXV. At Hartledon + + XXVI. Under the Trees + + XXVII. A Tete-a-Tete Breakfast + + XXVIII. Once more + + XXIX. Cross-questioning Mr. Carr + + XXX. Maude's Disobedience + + XXXI. The Sword slipped + + XXXII. In the Park + + XXXIII. Coming Home + + XXXIV. Mr. Pike on the Wing + + XXXV. The Shed razed + + XXXVI. The Dowager's Alarm + + XXXVII. A Painful Scene + + XXXVIII. Explanations + + + + +ELSTER'S FOLLY + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +BY THE EARLY TRAIN. + + +The ascending sun threw its slanting rays abroad on a glorious August +morning, and the little world below began to awaken into life--the life +of another day of sanguine pleasure or of fretting care. + +Not on many fairer scenes did those sunbeams shed their radiance than on +one existing in the heart of England; but almost any landscape will look +beautiful in the early light of a summer's morning. The county, one of +the midlands, was justly celebrated for its scenery; its rich woods and +smiling plains, its river and gentler streams. The harvest was nearly +gathered in--it had been a late season--but a few fields of golden grain, +in process of reaping, gave their warm tints to the landscape. In no part +of the country had the beauties of nature been bestowed more lavishly +than on this, the village of Calne, situated about seven miles from the +county town. + +It was an aristocratic village, on the whole. The fine seat of the Earl +of Hartledon, rising near it, had caused a few families of note to settle +there, and the nest of white villas gave the place a prosperous and +picturesque appearance. But it contained a full proportion of the poor or +labouring class; and these people were falling very much into the habit +of writing the village "Cawn," in accordance with its pronunciation. +Phonetic spelling was more in their line than Johnson's Dictionary. Of +what may be called the middle class the village held few, if any: there +were the gentry, the small shopkeepers, and the poor. + +Calne had recently been exalted into importance. A year or two before +this bright August morning some good genius had brought a railway to +it--a railway and a station, with all its accompanying work and bustle. +Many trains passed it in the course of the day; for it was in the direct +line of route from the county town, Garchester, to London, and the +traffic was increasing. People wondered what travellers had done, and +what sort of a round they traversed, before this direct line was made. + +The village itself lay somewhat in a hollow, the ground rising to a +gentle eminence on either side. On the one eminence, to the west, was +situated the station; on the other, eastward, rose the large stone +mansion, Hartledon House. The railway took a slight _detour_ outside +Calne, and was a conspicuous feature to any who chose to look at it; for +the line had been raised above the village hollow to correspond with the +height at either end. + +Six o'clock was close at hand, and the station began to show signs of +life. The station-master came out of his cottage, and opened one or two +doors on the platform. He had held the office scarcely a year yet; and +had come a stranger to Calne. Sitting down in his little bureau of a +place, on the door of which was inscribed "Station-master--Private," he +began sorting papers on the desk before him. A few minutes, and the clock +struck six; upon which he went out to the platform. It was an open +station, as these small stations generally are, the small waiting-rooms +and offices on either side scarcely obstructing the view of the country, +and the station-master looked far out in the distance, towards the east, +beyond the low-lying village houses, shading his eyes with his hand from +the dazzling sun. + +"Her's late this morning." + +The interruption came from the surly porter, who stood by, and referred +to the expected train, which ought to have been in some minutes before. +According to the precise time, as laid down in the way-bills, it should +reach Calne seven minutes before six. + +"They have a heavy load, perhaps," remarked the station-master. + +The train was chiefly for goods; a slow train, taking no one knew how +many hours to travel from London. It would bring passengers also; but +very few availed themselves of it. Now and then it happened that the +station at Calne was opened for nothing; the train just slackened its +speed and went on, leaving neither goods nor anything else behind it. +Sometimes it took a few early travellers from Calne to Garchester; +especially on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Garchester market-days; but it +rarely left passengers at Calne. + +"Did you hear the news, Mr. Markham?" asked the porter. + +"What news?" returned the station-master. + +"I heard it last night. Jim come into the Elster Arms with it, and _he'd_ +heard it at Garchester. We are going to have two more sets o' telegraph +wires here. I wonder how much more work they'll give us to do?" + +"So you were at the Elster Arms again last night, Jones?" remarked the +station-master, his tone reproving, whilst he passed over in silence Mr. +Jones's item of news. + +"I wasn't in above an hour," grumbled the man. + +"Well, it is your own look-out, Jones. I have said what I could to you at +odd times; but I believe it has only tried your patience; so I'll say no +more." + +"Has my wife been here again complaining?" asked the man, raising his +face in anger. + +"No; I have not seen your wife, except at church, these two months. But +I know what public-houses are to you, and I was thinking of your little +children." + +"Ugh!" growled the man, apparently not gratified at the reminder of his +flock; "there's a peck o' _them_ surely! Here she comes!" + +The last sentence was spoken in a different tone; one of relief, either +at getting rid of the subject, or at the arrival of the train. It was +about opposite to Hartledon when he caught sight of it, and it came on +with a shrill whistle, skirting the village it towered above; a long line +of covered waggons with a passenger carriage or two attached to them. +Slackening its pace gradually, but not in time, it shot past the station, +and had to back into it again. + +The guard came out of his box and opened the door of one of the +carriages--a dirty-looking second-class compartment; the other was a +third-class; and a gentleman leaped out. A tall, slender man of about +four-and-twenty; a man evidently of birth and breeding. He wore a light +summer overcoat on his well-cut clothes, and had a most attractive face. + +"Is there any law against putting on a first-class carriage to this +night-train?" he asked the guard in a pleasing voice. + +"Well, sir, we never get first-class passengers by it," replied the man; +"or hardly any passengers at all, for the matter of that. We are too long +on the road for passengers to come by us." + +"It might happen, though," returned the traveller, significantly. "At +any rate, I suppose there's no law against your carriages being clean, +whatever their class. Look at that one." + +He pointed to the one he had just left, as he walked up to the +station-master. The guard looked cross, and gave the carriage door +a slam. + +"Was a portmanteau left here last night by the last train from London?" +inquired the traveller of the station-master. + +"No, sir; nothing was left here. At least, I think not. Any name on it, +sir?" + +"Elster." + +A quick glance from the station-master's eyes met the answer. Elster was +the name of the family at Hartledon. He wondered whether this could be +one of them, or whether the name was merely a coincidence. + +"There was no portmanteau left, was there, Jones?" asked the +station-master. + +"There couldn't have been," returned the porter, touching his cap to the +stranger. "I wasn't on last night; Jim was; but it would have been put in +the office for sure; and there's not a ghost of a thing in it this +morning." + +"It must have been taken on to Garchester," remarked the traveller; and, +turning to the guard, he gave him directions to look after it, and +despatch it back again by the first train, slipping at the same time a +gratuity into his hand. + +The guard touched his hat humbly; he now knew who the gentleman was. And +he went into inward repentance for slamming the carriage-door, as he got +into his box, and the engine and train puffed on. + +"You'll send it up as soon as it comes," said the traveller to the +station-master. + +"Where to, sir?" + +The stranger raised his eyes in slight surprise, and pointed to the house +in the distance. He had assumed that he was known. + +"To Hartledon." + +Then he _was_ one of the family! The station-master touched his hat. +Mr. Jones, in the background, touched his, and for the first time the +traveller's eye fell upon him as he was turning to leave the platform. + +"Why, Jones! It's never you?" + +"Yes, it is, sir." But Mr. Jones looked abashed as he acknowledged +himself. And it may be observed that his language, when addressing this +gentleman, was a slight improvement upon the homely phraseology of his +everyday life. + +"But--you are surely not working here!--a porter!" + +"My business fell through, sir," returned the man. "I'm here till I can +turn myself round, sir, and get into it again." + +"What caused it to fall through?" asked the traveller; a kindly sympathy +in his fine blue eyes. + +Mr. Jones shuffled upon one foot. He would not have given the true +answer--"Drinking"--for the world. + +"There's such opposition started up in the place, sir; folks would draw +your heart's blood from you if they could. And then I've such a lot of +mouths to feed. I can't think what the plague such a tribe of children +come for. Nobody wants 'em." + +The traveller laughed; but put no further questions. Remembering somewhat +of Mr. Jones's propensity in the old days, he thought perhaps something +besides children and opposition had had to do with the downfall. He stood +for a moment looking at the station which had not been completed when he +last saw it--and a very pretty station it was, surrounded by its gay +flowerbeds--and then went down the road. + +"I suppose he is one of the Hartledon family, Jones?" said the +station-master, looking after him. + +"He's the earl's brother," replied Mr. Jones, relapsing into sulkiness. +"There's only them two left; t'other died. Wonder if they be coming to +Hartledon again? Calne haven't seemed the same since they left it." + +"Which is this one?" + +"He can't be anybody but himself," retorted Mr. Jones, irascibly, deeming +the question superfluous. "There be but the two left, I say--the earl and +him; everybody knows him for the Honourable Percival Elster. The other +son, George, died; leastways, was murdered." + +"Murdered!" echoed the station-master aghast. + +"I don't see that it could be called much else but murder," was Mr. +Jones's answer. "He went out with my lord's gamekeepers one night and +got shot in a poaching fray. 'Twas never known for certain who fired the +shot, but I think I could put my finger on the man if I tried. Much good +_that_ would do, though! There's no proof." + +"What are you saying, Jones?" cried the station-master, staring at his +subordinate, and perhaps wondering whether he had already that morning +paid a visit to the tap of the Elster Arms. + +"I'm saying nothing that half the place didn't say at the time, Mr. +Markham. _You_ hadn't come here then, Mr. Elster--he was the Honourable +George--went out one night with the keepers when warm work was expected, +and got shot for his pains. He lived some weeks, but they couldn't cure +him. It was in the late lord's time. _He_ died soon after, and the place +has been deserted ever since." + +"And who do you suppose fired the shot?" + +"Don't know that it 'ud be safe to say," rejoined the man. "He might give +my neck a twist some dark night if he heard on't. He's the blackest sheep +we've got in Calne, sir." + +"I suppose you mean Pike," said the station-master. "He has the character +for being that, I believe. I've seen no harm in the man myself." + +"Well, it was Pike," said the porter. "That is, some of us suspected him. +And that's how Mr. George Elster came by his death. And this one, Mr. +Percival, shot up into notice, as being the only one left, except Lord +Elster." + +"And who's Lord Elster?" asked the station-master, not remembering to +have heard the title before. + +Mr. Jones received the question with proper contempt. Having been +familiar with Hartledon and its inmates all his life, he had as little +compassion for those who were not so, as he would have had for a man who +did not understand that Garchester was in England. + +"The present Earl of Hartledon," said he, shortly. "In his father's +lifetime--and the old lord lived to see Mr. George buried--he was Lord +Elster. Not one of my tribe of brats but could tell that any Lord Elster +must be the eldest son of the Earl of Hartledon," he concluded with a +fling at his superior. + +"Ah, well, I have had other 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 with his mother. + +"Did Capper see you as you came by, sir? Wouldn't she be struck!" + +"Nearly into stone," he laughed. + +Mirrable disappeared for a minute or two, and came back with a silver +coffee-pot in her hand. The name of the lodge-keeper had brought to his +remembrance the unpleasant hint she mentioned, and he spoke of it +impulsively--as he did most things. + +"Mirrable, what man is it they call Pike, who has taken possession of +that old shed?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, sir," answered Mirrable, after a pause, which Mr. +Elster thought was involuntary; for she was busy at the moment rubbing +the coffee-pot with some wash-leather, her head and face bent over it, as +she stood with her back to him. He slipped off the table, and went up to +her. + +"I saw smoke rising from the shed, and asked Capper what it meant, and +she told me about this man Pike. Pike! It's a curious name." + +Mirrable rubbed away, never answering. + +"Capper said he had been suspected of firing the shot that killed my +brother," he continued, in low tones. "Did _you_ ever hear of such a +hint, Mirrable?" + +Mirrable darted off to the fireplace, and began stirring the milk lest it +should boil over. Her face was almost buried in the saucepan, or Mr. +Elster might have seen the sudden change that came over it; the thin +cheeks that had flushed crimson, and now were deadly white. Lifting the +saucepan on to the hob, she turned to Mr. Elster. + +"Don't you believe any such nonsense, sir," she said, in tones of strange +emphasis. "It was no more Pike than it was me. The man keeps himself to +himself, and troubles nobody; and for that very reason idle folk carp at +him, like the mischief-making idiots they are!" + +"I thought there was nothing in it," remarked Mr. Elster. + +"I'm _sure_ there isn't," said Mirrable, conclusively. "Would you like +some broiled ham, sir?" + +"I should like anything good and substantial, for I'm as hungry as +a hunter. But, Mirrable, you don't ask what has brought me here so +suddenly." + +The tone was significant, and Mirrable looked at him. There was a spice +of mischief in his laughing blue eyes. + +"I come on a mission to you; an avant-courier from his lordship, to +charge you to have all things in readiness. To-morrow you will receive +a houseful of company; more than Hartledon will hold." + +Mirrable looked aghast. "It is one of your jokes, Mr. Val!" + +"Indeed, it is the truth. My brother will be down with a trainful; and +desires that everything shall be ready for their reception." + +"My patience!" gasped Mirrable. "And the servants, sir?" + +"Most of them will be here to-night. The Countess-Dowager of Kirton is +coming as Hartledon's mistress for the time being." + +"Oh!" said Mirrable, who had once had the honour of seeing the +Countess-Dowager of Kirton. And the monosyllable was so significant +that Val Elster drew down the corners of his mouth. + +"I don't like the Countess-Dowager, sir," remarked Mirrable in her +freedom. + +"I can't bear her," returned Val Elster. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +WILLY GUM. + + +Had Percival Elster lingered ever so short a time near the clerk's house +that morning he would have met that functionary himself; for in less than +a minute after he had passed out of sight Jabez Gum's door opened, and +Jabez Gum glided out of it. + +It is a term chiefly applied to ghosts; but Mr. Gum was a great deal more +like a ghost than like a man. He was remarkably tall and thin; a very +shadow; with a white shadow of a face, and a nose that might have served +as a model for a mask in a carnival of guys. A sharp nose, twice the +length and half the breadth of any ordinary nose--a very ferret of a +nose; its sharp tip standing straight out into the air. People said, with +such a nose Mr. Gum ought to have a great deal of curiosity. And they +were right; he _had_ a great deal in a quiet way. + +A most respectable man was Mr. Gum, and he prided himself upon it. Mr. +Gum--more often called Clerk Gum in the village--had never done a wrong +thing in his life, or fallen into a scrape. He had been altogether a +pattern to Calne in general, and to its black sheep in particular. Dr. +Ashton himself could not have had less brought against him than Clerk +Gum; and it would just have broken Mr. Gum's heart had his good name been +tarnished in ever so slight a degree. Perhaps no man living had been born +with a larger share of self-esteem than Jabez Gum. Clerk of the parish +longer than Dr. Ashton had been its Rector, Jabez Gum had lived at his +ease in a pecuniary point of view. It was one of those parishes (I think +few of them remain now) where the clerk's emoluments are large. He also +held other offices; was an agent for one or two companies, and was looked +upon as an exceedingly substantial man for his station in life. Perhaps +he was less so than people imagined. The old saying is all too true: +"Nobody knows where the shoe pinches but he who wears it." + +Jabez Gum had his thorn, as a great many more of us have ours, if the +outside world only knew it. And Jabez, at odd moments, when the thorn +pierced him very sharply, had been wont to compare his condition to St. +Paul's, and to wonder whether the pricks inflicted on that holy man could +have bled as his own did. He meant no irreverence when he thought this; +neither do I in writing it. We are generally wounded in the most +vulnerable spot about us, and Jabez Gum made no exception to the rule. He +had been assailed in his cherished respectability, his self-esteem. +Assailed and _scarred_. How broad and deep the scar was Jabez never told +the world, which as a rule does not sympathise with such scars, but turns +aside in its cruel indifference. The world had almost forgotten the scar +now, and supposed Clerk Gum had done the same. It was all over and done +with years ago. + +Jabez Gum's wife--to whom you will shortly have the honour of an +introduction, but she is in her bedroom just now--had borne him one +child, and only one. How this boy was loved, how tenderly reared, let +Calne tell you. Mrs. Gum had to endure no inconsiderable amount of +ridicule at the time from her gossiping friends, who gave Willy sundry +endearing names, applied in derision. Certainly, if any mother ever was +bound up in a child, Mrs. Gum was in hers. The boy was well brought up. A +good education was given him; and at the age of sixteen he went to London +and to fortune. The one was looked upon as a natural sequence to the +other. Some friend of Jabez Gum's had interested himself to procure the +lad's admission into one of the great banks as a junior clerk. He might +rise in time to be cashier, manager, even partner; who knew? Who knew +indeed? And Clerk Gum congratulated himself, and was more respectable +than ever. + +Better that Willy Gum had remained at Calne! And yet, and again--who +knew? When the propensity for ill-doing exists it is sure to come out, no +matter where. There were some people in Calne who could have told Clerk +Gum, even then, that Willy, for his age, was tolerably fast and forward. +Mrs. Gum had heard of one or two things that had caused her hair to rise +on end with horror; ay, and with apprehension; but, foolish mother that +she was, not a syllable did she breathe to the clerk; and no one else +ventured to tell him. + +She talked to Willy with many sighs and tears; implored him to be a good +boy and enter on good courses, not on bad ones that would break her +heart. Willy, the little scapegrace, was willing to promise anything. He +laughed and made light of it; it wasn't his fault if folks told stories +about him; she couldn't be so foolish as to give ear to them. London? Oh, +he should be all right in London! One or two fellows here were rather +fast, there was no denying it; and they drew him with them; they were +older than he, and ought to have known better. Once away from Calne, they +could have no more influence over him, and he should be all right. + +She believed him; putting faith in the plausible words. Oh, what trust +can be so pure, and at the same time so foolish, as that placed by a +mother in a beloved son! Mrs. Gum had never known but one idol on earth; +he who now stood before her, lightly laughing at her fears, making his +own tale good. She leaned forward and laid her hands upon his shoulders +and kissed him with that impassioned fervour that some mothers could tell +of, and whispered that she would trust him wholly. + +Mr. Willy extricated himself with as little impatience as he could help: +these embraces were not to his taste. And yet the boy did love his +mother. She was not at all a wise woman, or a clever one; rather silly, +indeed, in many things; but she was fond of him. At this period he was +young-looking for his age, slight, and rather undersized, with an +exceedingly light complexion, a wishy-washy sort of face with no colour +in it, unmeaning light eyes, white eyebrows, and ragged-looking light +hair with a tawny shade upon it. + +Willy Gum departed for London, and entered on his engagement in the great +banking-house of Goldsworthy and Co. + +How he went on in it Calne could not get to learn, though it was +moderately inquisitive upon the point. His father and mother heard from +him occasionally; and once the clerk took a sudden and rather mysterious +journey to London, where he stayed for a whole week. Rumour said--I +wonder where such rumours first have their rise--that Willy Gum had +fallen into some trouble, and the clerk had had to buy him out of it at +the cost of a mint of money. The clerk, however, did not confirm this; +and one thing was indisputable: Willy retained his place in the +banking-house. Some people looked on this fact as a complete refutation +of the rumour. + +Then came a lull. Nothing was heard of Willy; that is, nothing beyond the +reports of Mrs. Gum to her gossips when letters arrived: he was well, and +getting on well. It was only the lull that precedes a storm; and a storm +indeed burst on quiet Calne. Willy Gum had robbed the bank and +disappeared. + +In the first dreadful moment, perhaps the only one who did _not_ +disbelieve it was Clerk Gum. Other people said there must be some +mistake: it could not be. Kind old Lord Hartledon came down in his +carriage to the clerk's house--he was too ill to walk--and sat with +the clerk and the weeping mother, and said he was sure it could not be +so bad as was reported. The next morning saw handbills--great, staring, +large-typed handbills--offering a reward for the discovery of William +Gum, posted all over Calne. + +Once more Clerk Gum went to London. What he did there no one knew. One +thing only was certain--he did not find Willy or any trace of him. The +defalcation was very nearly eight hundred pounds; and even if Mr. Gum +could have refunded that large sum, he might not do so, said Calne, for +of course the bank would not compound a felony. He came back looking ten +years older; his tall, thin form more shadowy, his nose longer and +sharper. Not a soul ventured to say a syllable to him, even of +condolence. He told Lord Hartledon and his Rector that no tidings +whatever could be gleaned of his unhappy son; the boy had disappeared, +and might be dead for all they knew to the contrary. + +So the handbills wore themselves out on the walls, serving no purpose, +until Lord Hartledon ordered them to be removed; and Mrs. Gum lived in +tears, and audibly wished herself dead. She had not seen her boy since he +quitted Calne, considerably more than two years before, and he was now +nearly nineteen. A few days' holiday had been accorded him by the +banking-house each Christmas; but the first Christmas Willy wrote word +that he had accepted an invitation to go home with a brother-clerk; the +second Christmas he said he could not obtain leave of absence--which Mrs. +Gum afterwards found was untrue; so that Willy Gum had not been at Calne +since he left it. And whenever his mother thought of him--and that was +every hour of the day and night--it was always as the fair, young, +light-haired boy, who seemed to her little more than a child. + +A year or so of uncertainty, of suspense, of wailing, and then came a +letter from Willy, cautiously sent. It was not addressed directly to Mrs. +Gum, to whom it was written, but to one of Willy's acquaintances in +London, who enclosed it in an envelope and forwarded it on. + +Such a letter! To read it one might have thought Mr. William Gum had gone +out under the most favourable auspices. He was in Australia; had gone up +to seek his fortune at the gold-diggings, and was making money rapidly. +In a short time he should refund with interest the little sum he had +borrowed from Goldsworthy and Co., and which was really not taken with +any ill intention, but was more an accident than anything else. After +that, he should accumulate money on his own score, and--all things being +made straight at home--return and settle down, a rich man for life. And +she--his mother--might rely on his keeping his word. At present he was at +Melbourne; to which place he and his mates had come to bring their +acquired gold, and to take a bit of a spree after their recent hard work. +He was very jolly, and after a week's holiday they should go back again. +And he hoped his father had overlooked the past; and he remained ever her +affectionate son, William Gum. + +The effect of this letter upon Mrs. Gum was as though a dense cloud had +suddenly lifted from the world, and given place to a flood of sunshine. +We estimate things by comparison. Mrs. Gum was by nature disposed to look +on the dark side of things, and she had for the whole year past been +indulging the most dread pictures of Willy and his fate that any woman's +mind ever conceived. To hear that he was in life, and well, and making +money rapidly, was the sweetest news, the greatest relief she could ever +experience in this world. + +Clerk Gum--relieved also, no doubt--received the tidings in a more sober +spirit; almost as if he did not dare to believe in them. The man's heart +had been well-nigh broken with the blow that fell upon him, and nothing +could ever heal it thoroughly again. He read the letter in silence; read +it twice over; and when his wife broke out into a series of rapt +congratulations, and reproached him mildly for not appearing to think +it true, he rather cynically inquired what then, if true, became of her +dreams. + +For Mrs. Gum was a dreamer. She was one of those who are now and again +visited by strange dreams, significant of the future. Poor Mrs. Gum +carried these dreams to an excess; that is, she was always having them +and always talking about them. It had been no wonder, with her mind in so +miserable a state regarding her son, that her dreams in that first +twelve-month had generally been of him and generally bad. The above +question, put by her husband, somewhat puzzled her. Her dreams _had_ +foreshadowed great evil still to Willy; and her dreams had never been +wrong yet. + +But, in the enjoyment of positive good, who thinks of dreams? No one. And +Mrs. Gum's grew a shade brighter, and hope again took possession of her +heart. + +Two years rolled on, during which they heard twice from Willy; +satisfactory letters still, in a way. Both testified to his "jolly" +state: he was growing rich, though not quite so rapidly as he had +anticipated; a fellow had to spend so much! Every day he expected to pick +up a nugget which would crown his fortune. He complained in these letters +that he did not hear from home; not once had news reached him; had his +father and mother abandoned him? + +The question brought forth a gush of tears from Mrs. Gum, and a sharp +abuse of the post-office. The clerk took the news philosophically, +remarking that the wonder would have been had Willy received the letters, +seeing that he seemed to move about incessantly from place to place. + +Close upon this came another letter, written apparently in haste. Willy's +"fortune" had turned into reality at last; he was coming home with more +gold than he could count; had taken his berth in the good ship _Morning +Star_, and should come off at once to Calne, when the ship reached +Liverpool. There was a line written inside the envelope, as though he had +forgotten to include it in the letter: "I have had one from you at last; +the first you wrote, it seems. Thank dad for what he has done for me. +I'll make it all square with him when I get home." + +This had reference to a fact which Calne did not know. In that unhappy +second visit of Clerk Gum's to London, he _did_ succeed in appeasing the +wrath of Goldsworthy and Co., and paid in every farthing of the money. +How far he might have accomplished this but for being backed by the +urgent influence of old Lord Hartledon, was a question. One thing was in +his favour: the firm had not taken any steps whatever in the matter, and +those handbills circulated at Calne were the result of a misapprehension +on the part of an officious local police-officer. Things had gone too far +for Goldsworthys graciously to condone the offence--and Clerk Gum paid in +his savings of years. This was the fact written by Mrs. Gum to her son, +which had called forth the line in the envelope. + +Alas! those were the last tidings ever received from Willy Gum. Whilst +Mrs. Gum lived in a state of ecstacy, showing the letter to her +neighbours and making loving preparations for his reception, the time for +the arrival of the _Morning Star_ at Liverpool drew on, and passed, and +the ship did not arrive. + +A time of anxious suspense to all who had relations on board--for it was +supposed she had foundered at sea--and tidings came to them. An awful +tale; a tale of mutiny and wrong and bloodshed. Some of the loose +characters on board the ship--and she was bringing home such--had risen +in disorder within a month of their sailing from Melbourne; had killed +the captain, the chief officer, and some of the passengers and crew. + +The ringleader was a man named Gordon; who had incited the rest to the +crime, and killed the captain with his own hand. Obtaining command of the +ship, they put her about, and commenced a piratical raid. One vessel they +succeeded in disarming, despoiling, and then leaving her to her fate. But +the next vessel they attacked proved a more formidable enemy, and there +was a hand-to-hand struggle for the mastery, and for life or death. The +_Morning Star_ was sunk, with the greater portion of her living freight. +A few, only some four or five, were saved by the other ship, and conveyed +to England. + +It was by them the dark tale was brought. The second officer of the +_Morning Star_ was one of them; he had been compelled to dissemble and to +appear to serve the mutinous band; the others were innocent passengers, +whose lives had not been taken. All agreed in one thing: that Gordon, the +ringleader, had in all probability escaped. He had put off from the +_Morning Star_, when she was sinking, in one of her best boats; he and +some of his lawless helpmates, with a bag of biscuit, a cask of water, +and a few bottles that probably contained rum. Whether they succeeded in +reaching a port or in getting picked up, was a question; but it was +assumed they had done so. + +The owners of the _Morning Star_, half paralyzed at the news of so daring +and unusual an outrage, offered the large reward of five hundred pounds +for the capture of George Gordon; and Government increased the offer by +two hundred, making it seven in all. + +Overwhelming tidings for Clerk Gum and his wife! A brief season of +agonized suspense ensued for the poor mother; of hopes and fears as to +whether Willy was amongst the remnant saved; and then hope died away, for +he did not come. + +Once more, for the last time, Clerk Gum took a journey, not to London, +but to Liverpool. He succeeded in seeing the officer who had been +saved; but he could give him no information. He knew the names of the +first-class passengers, but only a few of the second-class; and in that +class Willy had most likely sailed. + +The clerk described his son; and the officer thought he remembered him: +he had a good deal of gold on board, he said. One of the passengers spoke +more positively. Yes, by Clerk Gum's description, he was sure Willy Gum +had been his fellow-passenger in the second cabin, though he did not +recollect whether he had heard his name. It seemed, looking back, that +the passengers had hardly had time to become acquainted with each other's +names, he added. He was sure it was the young man; of very light +complexion, ready and rather loose (if Mr. Gum would excuse his saying +so) in speech. He had made thoroughly good hauls of gold at the last, and +was going home to spend it. He was the second killed, poor fellow; had +risen up with a volley of oaths (excuses begged again) to defend the +captain, and was struck down and killed. + +Poor Jabez Gum gasped. _Killed?_ was the gentleman _sure_? Quite sure; +and, moreover, he saw his body thrown overboard with the rest of the +dead. And the money--the gold? Jabez asked, when he had somewhat +recovered himself. The passenger laughed--not at the poor father, but at +the worse than useless question; gold and everything else on board the +_Morning Star_ had gone down with her to the bottom of the sea. + +A species of savage impulse rose in the clerk's mind, replacing his first +emotion of grief; an impulse that might almost have led him to murder the +villain Gordon, could he have come across him. Was there a chance that +the man would be taken? he asked. Every chance, if he dared show his face +in England, the passenger answered. A reward of seven hundred pounds was +an inducement to the survivors to keep their eyes open; and they'd do it, +besides, without any reward. Moreover--if Gordon had escaped, his +comrades in the boat had escaped with him. They were lawless men like +himself, every one of them, and they would be sure to betray him when +they found what a price was set upon his capture. + +Clerk Gum returned home, bearing to his wife and Calne the final tidings +which crushed out all hope. Mrs. Gum sank into a state of wild despair. +At first it almost seemed to threaten loss of reason. Her son had been +her sole idol, and the idol was shattered. But to witness unreasonably +violent grief in others always has a counteracting effect on our own, +and Mr. Gum soothed his sorrow and brought philosophy to his aid. + +"Look you," said he, one day, sharply to his wife, when she was crying +and moaning, "there's two sides to every calamity,--a bright and a dark +'un;" for Mr. Gum was not in the habit of treating his wife, in the +privacy of their domestic circle, to the quality-speech kept for the +world. "He is gone, and we can't help it; we'd have welcomed him home if +we could, and killed the fatted calf, but it was God's will that it +shouldn't be. There may be a blessing in it, after all. Who knows but he +might have broke out again, and brought upon us what he did before, or +worse? For my part, I should never have been without the fear; night and +morning it would always have stood before me; not to be driven away. As +it is, I am at rest." + +She--the wife--took her apron from her eyes and looked at him with a sort +of amazed anger. + +"Gum! do you forget that he had left off his evil ways, and was coming +home to be a comfort to us?" + +"No, I don't forget it," returned Mr. Gum. "But who was to say that the +mood would last? He might have got through his gold, however much it was, +and then--. As it is, Nance Gum, we can sleep quiet in our beds, free +from _that_ fear." + +Clerk Gum was not, on the whole, a model of suavity in the domestic fold. +The first blow that had fallen upon him seemed to have affected his +temper; and his helpmate knew from experience that whenever he called her +"Nance" his mood was at its worst. + +Suppressing a sob, she spoke reproachfully. + +"It's my firm belief, Gum, and has been all along, that you cared more +for your good name among men than you did for the boy." + +"Perhaps I did," he answered, by way of retort. "At any rate, it might +have been better for him in the long-run if we--both you and me--hadn't +cared for him quite so foolishly in his childhood; we spared the rod and +we spoiled the child. That's over, and--" + +"It's _all_ over," interrupted Mrs. Gum; "over for ever in this world. +Gum, you are very hard-hearted." + +"And," he continued, with composure, "we may hope now to live down in +time the blow he brought upon us, and hold up our heads again in the face +of Calne. We couldn't have done that while he lived." + +"We couldn't?" + +"No. Just dry up your useless tears, Nancy; and try to think that all's +for the best." + +But, metaphorically speaking, Mrs. Gum could not dry her tears. Nearly +two years had elapsed since the fatal event; and though she no longer +openly lamented, filling Calne with her cries and her faint but heartfelt +prayers for vengeance on the head of the cruel monster, George Gordon, as +she used to do at first, she had sunk into a despairing state of mind +that was by no means desirable: a startled, timid, superstitious woman, +frightened at every shadow. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ANNE ASHTON. + + +Jabez Gum came out of his house in the bright summer morning, missing Mr. +Elster by one minute only. He went round to a small shed at the back of +the house and brought forth sundry garden-tools. The whole garden was +kept in order by himself, and no one had finer fruit and vegetables than +Clerk Gum. Hartledon might have been proud of them, and Dr. Ashton +sometimes accepted a dish with pleasure. + +In his present attire: dark trousers, and a short close jacket buttoned +up round him and generally worn when gardening, the worthy man might +decidedly have been taken for an animated lamp-post by any stranger who +happened to come that way. He was applying himself this morning, first to +the nailing of sundry choice fruit-trees against the wall that ran down +one side of his garden--a wall that had been built by the clerk himself +in happier days; and next, to plucking some green walnuts for his wife to +pickle. As he stood on tip-toe, his long thin body and long thin arms +stretched up to the walnut-tree, he might have made the fortune of any +travelling caravan that could have hired him. The few people who passed +him greeted him with a "Good morning," but he rarely turned his head in +answering them. Clerk Gum had grown somewhat taciturn of late years. + +The time went on. The clock struck a quarter-past seven, and Jabez Gum, +as he heard it, left the walnut-tree, walked to the gate, and leaned over +it; his face turned in the direction of the village. It was not the +wooden gate generally attached to smaller houses in rustic localities, +but a very pretty iron one; everything about the clerk's house being +of a superior order. Apparently, he was looking out for some one in +displeasure; and, indeed, he had not stood there a minute, when a girl +came flying down the road, and pushed the gate and the clerk back +together. + +Mr. Gum directed her attention to the church clock. "Do you see the time, +Rebecca Jones?" + +Had the pages of the church-register been visible as well as the clock, +Miss Rebecca Jones's age might have been seen to be fifteen; but, in +knowledge of the world and in impudence, she was considerably older. + +"Just gone seven and a quarter," answered she, making a feint of shading +her eyes with her hands, though the sun was behind her. + +"And what business have you to come at seven and a quarter? Half-past six +is your time; and, if you can't keep it, your missis shall get those that +can." + +"Why can't my missis let me stop at night and clear up the work?" +returned the girl. "She sends me away at six o'clock, as soon as I've +washed the tea-things, and oftentimes earlier than that. It stands to +reason I can't get through the work of a morning." + +"You could do so quite well if you came to time," said the clerk, turning +away to his walnut-tree. "Why don't you?" + +"I overslept myself this morning. Father never called me afore he went +out. No doubt he had a drop too much last night." + +She went flying up the gravel-path as she spoke. Her father was the man +Jones whom you saw at the railway station; her step-mother (for her own +mother was dead) was Mrs. Gum's cousin. + +She was a sort of stray sheep, this girl, in the eyes of Calne, not +belonging very much to any one; her father habitually neglected her, her +step-mother had twice turned her out of doors. Some three or four months +ago, when Mrs. Gum was changing her servant, she had consented to try +this girl. Jabez Gum knew nothing of the arrangement until it was +concluded, and disapproved of it. Altogether, it did not work +satisfactorily: Miss Jones was careless, idle, and impudent; her +step-mother was dissatisfied because she was not taken into the house; +and Clerk Gum threatened every day, and his wife very often, to dismiss +her. + +It was only within a year or two that they had not kept an indoor +servant; and the fact of their not doing so now puzzled the gossips of +Calne. The clerk's emoluments were the same as ever; there was no Willy +to encroach on them now; and the work of the house required a good +servant. However, it pleased Mrs. Gum to have one in only by day; and who +was to interfere with her if the clerk did not? + +Jabez Gum worked on for some little time after eight o'clock, the +breakfast-hour. He rather wondered he was not called to it, and +registered a mental vow to discharge Miss Becky. Presently he went +indoors, put his head into a small sitting-room on the left, and found +the room empty, but the breakfast laid. The kitchen was behind it, and +Jabez Gum stalked on down the passage, and went into it. On the other +side of the passage was the best sitting-room, and a very small room at +the back of it, which Jabez used as an office, and where he kept sundry +account-books. + +"Where's your missis?" asked he of the maid, who was on her knees +toasting bread. + +"Not down yet," was the short response. + +"Not down yet!" repeated Jabez in surprise, for Mrs. Gum was generally +down by seven. "You've got that door open again, Rebecca. How many more +times am I to tell you I won't have it?" + +"It's the smoke," said Rebecca. "This chimbley always smokes when it's +first lighted." + +"The chimney doesn't smoke, and you know that you are telling a +falsehood. What do you want with it open? You'll have that wild man +darting in upon you some morning. How will you like that?" + +"I'm not afeard of him," was the answer, as Rebecca got up from her +knees. "He couldn't eat me." + +"But you know how timid your mistress is," returned the clerk, in a voice +of extreme anger. "How dare you, girl, be insolent?" + +He shut the door as he spoke--one that opened from the kitchen to the +back garden--and bolted it. Washing his hands, and drying them with a +round towel, he went upstairs, and found Mrs. Gum--as he had now and then +found her of late--in a fit of prostration. She was a little woman, with +a light complexion, and insipid, unmeaning face--some such a face as +Willy's had been--and her hair, worn in neat bands under her cap, was the +colour of tow. + +"I couldn't help it, Gum," she began, as she stood before the glass, her +trembling fingers trying to fasten her black alpaca gown--for she had +never left off mourning for their son. "It's past eight, I know; but I've +had such an upset this morning as never was, and I _couldn't_ dress +myself. I've had a shocking dream." + +"Drat your dreams!" cried Mr. Gum, very much wanting his breakfast. + +"Ah, Gum, don't! Those morning dreams, when they're vivid as this was, +are not sent for ridicule. Pike was in it; and you know I can't _bear_ +him to be in my dreams. They are always bad when he is in them." + +"If you wanted your breakfast as much as I want mine, you'd let Pike +alone," retorted the clerk. + +"I thought he was mixed up in some business with Lord Hartledon. I don't +know what it was, but the dream was full of horror. It seemed that Lord +Hartledon was dead or dying; whether he'd been killed or not, I can't +say; but an awful dread was upon me of seeing him dead. A voice called +out, 'Don't let him come to Calne!' and in the fright I awoke. I can't +remember what part Pike played in the dream," she continued, "only the +impression remained that he was in it." + +"Perhaps he killed Lord Hartledon?" cried Gum, mockingly. + +"No; not in the dream. Pike did not seem to be mixed up in it for ill. +The ill was all on Lord Hartledon; but it was not Pike brought it upon +him. Who it was, I couldn't see; but it was not Pike." + +Clerk Gum looked down at his wife in scornful pity. He wondered +sometimes, in his phlegmatic reasoning, why women were created such +fools. + +"Look here, Mrs. G. I thought those dreams of yours were pretty nearly +dreamed out--there have been enough of 'em. How any woman, short of a +born idiot, can stand there and confess herself so frightened by a dream +as to be unable to get up and go about her duties, is beyond me." + +"But, Gum, you don't let me finish. I woke up with the horror, I tell +you--" + +"What horror?" interrupted the clerk, angrily. "What did it consist of? +I can't see the horror." + +"Nor can I, very clearly," acknowledged Mrs. Gum; "but I know it was +there. I woke up with the very words in my ears, 'Don't let him come to +Calne!' and I started out of bed in terror for Lord Hartledon, lest he +_should_ come. We are only half awake, you know, at these moments. I +pulled the curtain aside and looked out. Gum, if ever I thought to drop +in my life, I thought it then. There was but one person to be seen in the +road--and it was Lord Hartledon." + +"Oh!" said Mr. Gum, cynically, after a moment of natural surprise. "Come +out of his vault for a morning walk past your window, Mrs. G.!" + +"Vault! I mean young Lord Hartledon, Gum." + +Mr. Gum was a little taken back. They had been so much in the habit of +calling the new Lord Hartledon, Lord Elster--who had not lived at Calne +since he came into the title--that he had thought of the old lord when +his wife was speaking. + +"He was up there, just by the turning of the road, going on to Hartledon. +Gum, I nearly dropped, I say. The next minute he was out of sight; then I +rubbed my eyes and pinched my arms to make sure I was awake." + +"And whether you saw a ghost, or whether you didn't," came the mocking +retort. + +"It was no ghost, Gum; it was Lord Hartledon himself." + +"Nonsense! It was just as much one as the other. The fact is, you hadn't +quite woke up out of that fine dream of yours, and you saw double. It was +just as much young Hartledon as it was me." + +"I never saw a ghost yet, and I don't fear I ever shall, Gum. I tell +you it was Lord Hartledon. And if harm doesn't befall him at Calne, as +shadowed forth in my dream, never believe me again." + +"There, that's enough," peremptorily cried the clerk; knowing, if once +Mrs. Gum took up any idea with a dream for its basis, how impossible it +was to turn her. "Is the key of that kitchen door found yet?" + +"No: it never will be, Gum. I've told you so before. My belief is, and +always has been, that Rebecca let it drop by accident into the waste +bucket." + +"_My_ belief is, that Rebecca made away with it for her own purposes," +said the clerk. "I caught her just now with the door wide open. She's +trying to make acquaintance with the man Pike; that's what she's at." + +"Oh, Gum!" + +"Yes; it's all very well to say 'Oh, Gum!' but if you were below-stairs +looking after her, instead of dreaming up here, it might be better for +everyone. Let me once be certain about it, and off she goes the next +hour. A fine thing 'twould be some day for us to find her head smothered +in the kitchen purgatory, and the silver spoons gone; as will be the case +if any loose characters get in." + +He was descending the stairs as he spoke the last sentence, delivered in +loud tones, probably for the benefit of Miss Rebecca Jones. And lest the +intelligent Protestant reader should fear he is being introduced to +unorthodox regions, it may be as well to mention that the "purgatory" in +Mr. Jabez Gum's kitchen consisted of an excavation, two feet square, +under the hearth, covered with a grating through which the ashes and +the small cinders fell; thereby enabling the economical housewife to +throw the larger ones on the fire again. Such wells or "purgatories," as +they are called, are common enough in the old-fashioned kitchens of +certain English districts. + +Mrs. Gum, ready now, had been about to follow her husband; but his +suggestion--that the girl was watching an opportunity to make +acquaintance with their undesirable neighbour, Pike--struck her +motionless. + +It seemed that she could never see this man without a shiver, or overcome +the fright experienced when she first met him. It was on a dark autumn +night. She was coming through the garden when she discerned, or thought +she discerned, a light in the abandoned shed. Thinking of fire, she +hastily crossed the stile that divided their garden from the waste land, +and ran to it. There she was confronted by what she took to be a +bear--but a bear that could talk; for he gruffly asked her who she was +and what she wanted. A black-haired, black-browed man, with a pipe +between his teeth, and one sinewy arm bared to the elbow. + +How Mrs. Gum tore away and tumbled over the stile in her terror, and got +home again, she never knew. She supposed it to be a tramp, who had taken +shelter there for the night; but finding to her dismay that the tramp +stayed on, she had never overcome her fright from that hour to this. + +Neither did her husband like the proximity of such a gentleman. They +caused securer bolts to be put on their doors--for fastenings in small +country places are not much thought about, people around being +proverbially honest. They also had their shutters altered. The shutters +to the windows, back and front, had holes in them in the form of a +heart, such as you may have sometimes noticed. Before the wild-looking +man--whose name came to be known as Pike--had been in possession of the +shed a fortnight, Jabez Gum had the holes in his shutters filled-in and +painted over. An additional security, said the neighbours: but poor timid +Mrs. Gum could not overcome that first fright, and the very mention of +the man set her trembling and quaking. + +Nothing more was said of the dream or the apparition, real or fancied, of +Lord Hartledon: Clerk Gum did not encourage the familiar handling of such +topics in everyday life. He breakfasted, devoted an hour to his own +business in the little office, and then put on his coat to go out. It was +Friday morning. On that day and on Wednesdays the church was open for +baptisms, and it was the clerk's custom to go over at ten o'clock and +apprize the Rector of any notices he might have had. + +Passing in at the iron gates, the large white house rose before him, +beyond the wide lawn. It had been built by Dr. Ashton at his own +expense. The old Rectory was a tumbledown, inconvenient place, always +in dilapidation, for as soon as one part of it was repaired another +fell through; and the Rector opened his heart and his purse, both +large and generous, and built a new one. Mr. Gum was making his way +unannounced to the Rector's study, according to custom, when a door on +the opposite side of the hall opened, and Dr. Ashton came out. He was a +pleasant-looking man, with dark hair and eyes, his countenance one of +keen intellect; and though only of middle height, there was something +stately, grand, imposing in his whole appearance. + +"Is that you, Jabez?" + +Connected with each other for so many years--a connection which had begun +when both were young--the Rector and Mrs. Ashton had never called him +anything but Jabez. With other people he was Gum, or Mr. Gum, or Clerk +Gum: Jabez with them. He, Jabez, was the older man of the two by six or +seven years, for the Rector was not more than forty-five. The clerk +crossed the hall, its tessellated flags gleaming under the colours +thrown in by the stained windows, and entered the drawing-room, a noble +apartment looking on to the lawn in front. Mrs. Ashton, a tall, +delicate-looking woman, with a gentle face, was standing before a +painting just come home and hung up; to look at which the Rector and +his wife had gone into the room. + +It was the portrait of a sweet-looking girl with a sunny countenance. The +features were of the delicate contour of Mrs. Ashton's; the rich brown +hair, the soft brown eyes, and the intellectual expression of the face +resembled the doctor's. Altogether, face and portrait were positively +charming; one of those faces you must love at first sight, without +waiting to question whether or not they are beautiful. + +"Is it a good likeness, Jabez?" asked the Rector, whilst Mrs. Ashton made +room for him with a smile of greeting. + +"As like as two peas, sir," responded Jabez, when he had taken a long +look. "What a face it is! Oftentimes it comes across my mind when I am +not thinking of anything but business; and I'm always the better for it." + +"Why, Jabez, this is the first time you have seen it." + +"Ah, ma'am, you know I mean the original. There's two baptisms to-day, +sir," he added, turning away; "two, and one churching. Mrs. Luttrell and +her child, and the poor little baby whose mother died." + +"Mrs. Luttrell!" repeated the Rector. "It's soon for her, is it not?" + +"They want to go away to the seaside," replied the clerk. "What about +that notice, sir?" + +"I'll see to it before Sunday, Jabez. Any news?" + +"No, sir; not that I've heard of. My wife wanted to persuade me she +saw--" + +At this moment a white-haired old serving-man entered the room with +a note, claiming the Rector's attention. "The man's to take back the +answer, sir, if you please." + +"Wait then, Simon." + +Old Simon stood aside, and the clerk, turning to Mrs. Ashton, continued +his unfinished sentence. + +"She wanted to persuade me she saw young Lord Hartledon pass at six +o'clock this morning. A very likely tale that, ma'am." + +"Perhaps she dreamt it, Jabez," said Mrs. Ashton, quietly. + +Jabez chuckled; but what he would have answered was interrupted by the +old servant. + +"It's Mr. Elster that's come; not Lord Hartledon." + +"Mr. Elster! How do you know, Simon?" asked Mrs. Ashton. + +"The gardener mentioned it, ma'am, when he came in just now," was the +servant's reply. "He said he saw Mr. Elster walk past this morning, as if +he had just come by the luggage-train. I'm not sure but he spoke to him." + +"The answer is 'No,' Simon," interposed the Rector, alluding to the note +he had been reading. "But you can send word that I'll come in some time +to-day." + +"Charles, did you hear what Simon said--that Mr. Elster has come down?" +asked Mrs. Ashton. + +"Yes, I heard it," replied the doctor; and there was a hard dry tone in +his voice, as if the news were not altogether palatable to him. "It must +have been Percival Elster your wife saw, Jabez; not Lord Hartledon." + +Jabez had been arriving at the same conclusion. "They used to be much +alike in height and figure," he observed; "it was easy to mistake the one +for the other. Then that's all this morning, sir?" + +"There is nothing more, Jabez." + +In a room whose large French window opened to flowerbeds on the side of +the house, bending over a table on which sundry maps were spread, her +face very close to them, sat at this moment a young lady. It was the same +face you have just seen in the portrait--that of Dr. and Mrs. Ashton's +only daughter. The wondrously sunny expression of countenance, blended +with strange sweetness, was even more conspicuous than in the portrait. +But what perhaps struck a beholder most, when looking at Miss Ashton for +the first time, was a nameless grace and refinement that distinguished +her whole appearance. She was of middle height, not more; slender; her +head well set upon her shoulders. This was her own room; the schoolroom +of her girlhood, the sitting-room she had been allowed to call her own +since then. Books, work, music, a drawing-easel, and various other items, +presenting a rather untidy collection, met the eye. This morning it was +particularly untidy. The charts covered the table; one of them lay on the +carpet; and a pot of mignonette had been overturned inside the open +window scattering some of the mould. She was very busy; the open sleeves +of her lilac-muslin dress were thrown back, and her delicate hands were +putting the finishing touches in pencil to a plan she had been copying, +from one of the maps. A few minutes more, and the pencil was thrown down +in relief. + +"I won't colour it this morning; it must be quite an hour and a half +since I began; but the worst is done, and that's worth a king's ransom." +In the escape from work, the innocent gaiety of her heart, she broke into +a song, and began waltzing round the room. Barely had she passed the open +window, her back turned to it, when a gentleman came up, looked in, +stepped softly over the threshold, and imprisoned her by the waist. + +"Be quiet, Arthur. Pick up that mignonette-pot you threw down, sir." + +"My darling!" came in a low, heartfelt whisper. And Miss Ashton, with a +faint cry, turned to see her engaged lover, Val Elster. + +She stood before him, literally unable to speak in her great +astonishment, the red roses going and coming in her delicate cheeks, +the rich brown eyes, that might have been too brilliant but for their +exceeding sweetness, raised questioningly to his. Mr. Elster folded her +in his arms as if he would never release her again, and kissed the +shrinking face repeatedly. + +"Oh, Percival, Percival! Don't! Let me go." + +He did so at last, and held her before him, her eyelids drooping now, +to gaze at the face he loved so well--yes, loved fervently and well, in +spite of his follies and sins. Her heart was beating wildly with its own +rapture: for her the world had suddenly grown brighter. + +"But when did you arrive?" she whispered, scarcely knowing how to utter +the words in her excessive happiness. + +He took her upon his arm and began to pace the room with her while he +explained. There was an attempt at excuse for his prolonged absence--for +Val Elster had returned from his duties in Vienna in May, and it was now +August, and he had lingered through the intervening time in London, +enjoying himself--but that was soon glossed over; and he told her how his +brother was coming down on the morrow with a houseful of guests, and he, +Val, had offered to go before them with the necessary instructions. He +did not say _why_ he had offered to do this; that his debts had become so +pressing he was afraid to show himself longer in London. Such facts were +not for the ear of that fair girl, who trusted him as the truest man she +knew under heaven. + +"What have you been doing, Anne?" + +He pointed to the maps, and Miss Ashton laughed. + +"Mrs. Graves was here yesterday; she is very clever, you know; and when +something was being said about the course of ships out of England, I made +some dreadful mistakes. She took me up sharply, and papa looked at me +sharply--and the result is, I have to do a heap of maps. Please tell me +if it's right, Percival?" + +She held up her pencilled work of the morning. He was laughing. + +"What mistakes did you make, Anne?" + +"I am not sure but I said something about an Indiaman, leaving the London +Docks, having to pass Scarborough," she returned demurely. "It was quite +as bad." + +"Do you remember, Anne, being punished for persisting, in spite of the +slate on the wall and your nursery-governess, that the Mediterranean lay +between Scotland and Ireland? Miss Jevons wanted to give you bread and +water for three days. How's that prig Graves?" he added rather abruptly. + +Anne Ashton laughed, blushing slightly. "He is just as you left him; very +painstaking and efficient in the parish, and all that, but, oh, so stupid +in some things! Is the map right?" + +"Yes, it's right. I'll help you with the rest. If Dr. Ashton--" + +"Why, Val! Is it you? I heard Lord Hartledon had come down." + +Percival Elster turned. A lad of seventeen had come bounding in at +the window. It was Dr. Ashton's eldest living son, Arthur. Anne was +twenty-one. A son, who would have been nineteen now, had died; and +there was another, John, two years younger than Arthur. + +"How are you, Arthur, boy?" cried Val. "Edward hasn't come. Who told you +he had?" + +"Mother Gum. I have just met her." + +"She told you wrong. He will be down to-morrow. Is that Dr. Ashton?" + +Attracted perhaps by the voices, Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were then out +on the lawn, came round to the window. Percival Elster grasped a hand of +each, and after a minute or two's studied coldness, the doctor thawed. It +was next to impossible to resist the genial manner, the winning +attractions of the young man to his face. But Dr. Ashton could not +approve of his line of conduct; and had sore doubts whether he had done +right in allowing him to become the betrothed of his dearly-loved +daughter. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER. + + +The guests had arrived, and Hartledon was alive with bustle and lights. +The first link in the chain, whose fetters were to bind more than one +victim, had been forged. Link upon link; a heavy, despairing burden no +hand could lift; a burden which would have to be borne for the most part +in dread secrecy and silence. + +Mirrable had exerted herself to good purpose, and Mirrable was capable +of it when occasion needed. Help had been procured from Calne, and on +the Friday evening several of the Hartledon servants arrived from the +town-house. "None but a young man would have put us to such a rout," +quoth Mirrable, in her privileged freedom; "my lord and lady would have +sent a week's notice at least." But when Lord Hartledon arrived on the +Saturday evening with his guests, Mirrable was ready for them. + +She stood at the entrance to receive them, in her black-silk gown and +lace cap, its broad white-satin strings falling on either side the bunch +of black ringlets that shaded her thin face. Who, to look at her quick, +sharp countenance, with its practical sense, her active frame, her ready +speech, her general capability, would believe her to be sister to that +silly, dreaming Mrs. Gum? But it was so. Lord Hartledon, kind, affable, +unaffected as ever was his brother Percival, shook hands with her +heartily in the eyes of his guests before he said a word of welcome to +them; and one of those guests, a remarkably broad woman, with a red face, +a wide snub nose, and a front of light flaxen hair, who had stepped into +the house leaning on her host's arm--having, in fact, taken it unasked, +and seemed to be assuming a great deal of authority--turned round to +stare at Mirrable, and screwed her little light eyes together for a +better view. + +"Who is she, Hartledon?" + +"Mrs. Mirrable," answered his lordship rather shortly. "I think you must +have seen her before. She has been Hartledon's mistress since my mother +died," he rather pointedly added, for he saw incipient defiance in the +old lady's countenance. + +"Oh, Hartledon's head servant; the housekeeper, I presume," cried she, +as majestically as her harsh voice allowed her to speak. "Perhaps you'll +tell her who I am, Hartledon; and that I have undertaken to preside here +for a little while." + +"I believe Mrs. Mirrable knows you, ma'am," spoke up Percival Elster, for +Lord Hartledon had turned away, and was lost amongst his guests. "You +have seen the Countess-Dowager of Kirton, Mirrable?" + +The countess-dowager faced round upon the speaker sharply. + +"Oh, it's _you_, Val Elster? Who asked you to interfere? I'll see the +rooms, Mirrable, and the arrangements you have made. Maude, where are +you? Come with me." + +A tall, stately girl, with handsome features, raven hair and eyes, and +a brilliant colour, extricated herself from the crowd. It was Lady Maude +Kirton. Mirrable went first; the countess-dowager followed, talking +volubly; and Maude brought up the rear. Other servants came forward to +see to the rest of the guests. + +The most remarkable quality observable in the countess-dowager, apart +from her great breadth, was her restlessness. She seemed never still for +an instant; her legs had a fidgety, nervous movement in them, and in +moments of excitement, which were not infrequent, she was given to +executing a sort of war-dance. Old she was not; but her peculiar graces +of person, her rotund form, her badly-made front of flaxen curls, which +was rarely in its place, made her appear so. A bold, scheming, +unscrupulous, vulgar-minded woman, who had never considered other +people's feelings in her life, whether equals or inferiors. In her day +she must have been rather tall--nearly as tall as that elegant Maude who +followed her; but her astounding width caused her now to appear short. +She went looking into the different rooms as shown to her by Mirrable, +and chose the best for herself and her daughter. + +"Three en suite. Yes, that will be the thing, Mirrable. Lady Maude will +take the inner one, I will occupy this, and my maid the outer. Very good. +Now you may order the luggage up." + +"But my lady," objected Mirrable, "these are the best rooms in the house; +and each has a separate entrance, as you perceive. With so many guests to +provide for, your maid cannot have one of these rooms." + +"What?" cried the countess-dowager. "My maid not have one of these rooms? +You insolent woman! Do you know that I am come here with my nephew, Lord +Hartledon, to be mistress of this house, and of every one in it? You'd +better mind _your_ behaviour, for I can tell you that I shall look pretty +sharply after it." + +"Then," said Mirrable, who never allowed herself to be put out by any +earthly thing, and rarely argued against the stream, "as your ladyship +has come here as sole mistress, perhaps you will yourself apportion the +rooms to the guests." + +"Let them apportion them for themselves," cried the countess-dowager. +"These three are mine; others manage as they can. It's Hartledon's fault. +I told him not to invite a heap of people. You and I shall get on +together very well, I've no doubt, Mirrable," she continued in a false, +fawning voice; for she was remarkably alive at all times to her own +interests. "Am I to understand that you are the housekeeper?" + +"I am acting as housekeeper at present," was Mirrable's answer. "When my +lord went to town, after my lady's death, the housekeeper went also, and +has remained there. I have taken her place. Lord Elster--Lord Hartledon, +I mean--has not lived yet at Hartledon, and we have had no +establishment." + +"Then who are you?" + +"I was maid to Lady Hartledon for many years. Her ladyship treated me +more as a friend at the last; and the young gentlemen always did so." + +"_Very_ good," cried the untrue voice. "And, now, Mirrable, you can go +down and send up some tea for myself and Lady Maude. What time do we +dine?" + +"Mr. Elster ordered it for eight o'clock." + +"And what business had _he_ to take orders upon himself?" and the pale +little eyes flashed with anger. "Who's Val Elster, that he should +interfere? I sent word by the servants that we wouldn't dine till nine." + +"Mr. Elster is in his own house, madam; and--" + +"In his own house!" raved Lady Kirton. "It's no house of his; it's his +brother's. And I wish I was his brother for a day only; I'd let Mr. Val +know what presumption comes to. Can't dinner be delayed?" + +"I'm afraid not, my lady." + +"Ugh!" snapped the countess-dowager. "Send up tea at once; and let +it be strong, with a great deal of green in it. And some rolled +bread-and-butter, and a little well-buttered toast." + +Mirrable departed with the commands, more inclined to laugh at the +selfish old woman than to be angry. She remembered the countess-dowager +arriving on an unexpected visit some three or four years before, and +finding the old Lord Hartledon away and his wife ill in bed. She remained +three days, completely upsetting the house; so completely upsetting the +invalid Lady Hartledon, that the latter was glad to lend her a sum of +money to get rid of her. + +Truth to say, Lady Kirton had never been a welcome guest at Hartledon; +had been shunned, in fact, and kept away by all sorts of _ruses_. The +only other visit she had paid the family, in Mirrable's remembrance, was +to the town-house, when the children were young. Poor little Val had been +taught by his nurse to look upon her as a "bogey;" went about in terror +of her; and her ladyship detecting the feeling, administered sly pinches +whenever they met. Perhaps neither of them had completely overcome the +antagonism from that time to this. + +A scrambling sort of life had been Lady Kirton's. The wife of a very poor +and improvident Irish peer, who had died early, leaving her badly +provided for, her days had been one long scramble to make both ends meet +and avoid creditors. Now in Ireland, now on the Continent, now coming out +for a few brief weeks of fashionable life, and now on the wing to some +place of safety, had she dodged about, and become utterly unscrupulous. + +There was a whole troop of children, who had been allowed to go to +the good or the bad very much in their own way, with little help or +hindrance from their mother. All the daughters were married now, +excepting Maude, mostly to German barons and French counts. One had +espoused a marquis--native country not clearly indicated; one an Italian +duke: but the marquis lived somewhere over in Algeria in a small lodging, +and the Duke condescended to sing an occasional song on the Italian +stage. + +It was all one to Lady Kirton. They had taken their own way, and she +washed her hands of them as easily as though they had never belonged to +her. Had they been able to supply her with an occasional bank-note, or +welcome her on a protracted visit, they had been her well-beloved and +most estimable daughters. + +Of the younger sons, all were dispersed; the dowager neither knew nor +cared where. Now and again a piteous begging-letter would come from one +or the other, which she railed at and scolded over, and bade Maude +answer. Her eldest son, Lord Kirton, had married some four or five years +ago, and since then the countess-dowager's lines had been harder than +ever. Before that event she could go to the place in Ireland whenever she +liked (circumstances permitting), and stay as long as she liked; but that +was over now. For the young Lady Kirton, who on her own score spent all +the money her husband could scrape together, and more, had taken an +inveterate dislike to her mother-in-law, and would not tolerate her. + +Never, since she was thus thrown upon her own resources, had the +countess-dowager's lucky star been in the ascendant as it had been this +season, for she contrived to fasten herself upon the young Lord +Hartledon, and secure a firm footing in his town-house. She called him +her nephew--"My nephew Hartledon;" but that was a little improvement upon +the actual relationship, for she and the late Lady Hartledon had been +cousins only. She invited herself for a week's sojourn in May, and had +never gone away again; and it was now August. She had come down with him, +_sans ceremonie_, to Hartledon; had told him (as a great favour) that she +would look after his house and guests during her stay, as his mother +would have done. Easy, careless, good-natured Hartledon acquiesced, and +took it all as a matter of course. To him she was ever all sweetness +and suavity. + +None knew better on which side her bread was buttered than the +countess-dowager. She liked it buttered on both sides, and generally +contrived to get it. + +She had come down to Hartledon House with one fixed determination--that +she did not quit it until the Lady Maude was its mistress. For a long +while Maude had been her sole hope. Her other daughters had married +according to their fancy--and what had come of it?--but Maude was +different. Maude had great beauty; and Maude, truth to say, was almost +as selfishly alive to her own interest as her mother. _She_ should marry +well, and so be in a position to shelter the poor, homeless, wandering +dowager. Had she chosen from the whole batch of peers, not one could have +been found more eligible than he whom fortune seemed to have turned up +for her purpose--Lord Hartledon; and before the countess-dowager had been +one week his guest in London she began her scheming. + +Lady Maude was nothing loth. Young, beautiful, vain, selfish, she yet +possessed a woman's susceptible heart; though surrounded with luxury, +dress, pomp, show, which are said to deaden the feelings, and in some +measure do deaden them, Lady Maude insensibly managed to fall in love, as +deeply as ever did an obscure damsel of romance. She had first met him +two years before, when he was Viscount Elster; had liked him then. Their +relationship sanctioned their being now much together, and the Lady Maude +lost her heart to him. + +Would it bring forth fruit, this scheming of the countess-dowager's, and +Maude's own love? In her wildest hopes the old woman never dreamed of +what that fruit would be; or, unscrupulous as she was by habit, unfeeling +by nature, she might have carried away Maude from Hartledon within the +hour of their arrival. + +Of the three parties more immediately concerned, the only innocent +one--innocent of any intentions--was Lord Hartledon. He liked Maude very +well as a cousin, but otherwise he did not care for her. They might +succeed--at least, had circumstances gone on well, they might have +succeeded--in winning him at last; but it would not have been from love. +His present feeling towards Maude was one of indifference; and of +marriage at all he had not begun to think. + +Val Elster, on the contrary, regarded Maude with warm admiration. Her +beauty had charms for him, and he had been oftener at her side but for +the watchful countess-dowager. It would have been horrible had Maude +fallen in love with the wrong brother, and the old lady grew to hate him +for the fear, as well as on her own score. The feeling of dislike, begun +in Val's childhood, had ripened in the last month or two to almost open +warfare. He was always in the way. Many a time when Lord Hartledon might +have enjoyed a _tete-a-tete_ with Maude, Val Elster was there to spoil +it. + +But the culminating point had arrived one day, when Val, half laughingly, +half seriously, told the dowager, who had been provoking him almost +beyond endurance, that she might spare her angling in regard to Maude, +for Hartledon would never bite. But that he took his pleasant face beyond +her reach, it might have suffered, for her fingers were held out +alarmingly. + +From that time she took another little scheme into her hands--that of +getting Percival Elster out of his brother's favour and his brother's +house. Val, on his part, seriously advised his brother _not_ to allow the +Kirtons to come to Hartledon; and this reached the ears of the dowager. +You may be sure it did not tend to soothe her. Lord Hartledon only +laughed at Val, saying they might come if they liked; what did it matter? + +But, strange to say, Val Elster was as a very reed in the hands of the +old woman. Let her once get hold of him, and she could turn him any way +she pleased. He felt afraid of her, and bent to her will. The feeling may +have had its rise partly in the fear instilled into his boyhood, partly +in the yielding nature of his disposition. However that might be, it was +a fact; and Val could no more have openly opposed the resolute, +sharp-tongued old woman to her face than he could have changed his +nature. He rarely called her anything but "ma'am," as their nurse had +taught him and his brothers and sisters to do in those long-past years. + +Before eight o'clock the guests had all assembled in the drawing-room, +except the countess-dowager and Maude. Lord Hartledon was going about +amongst them, talking to one and another of the beauties of this, his +late father's place; scarcely yet thought of as his own. He was a tall +slender man; in figure very much resembling Percival, but not in face: +the one was dark, the other fair. There was also the same indolent sort +of movement, a certain languid air discernible in both; proclaiming the +undoubted fact, that both were idle in disposition and given to ennui. +There the resemblance ended. Lord Hartledon had nothing of the +irresolution of Percival Elster, but was sufficiently decisive in +character, prompt in action. + +A noble room, this they were in, as many of the rooms were in the fine +old mansion. Lord Hartledon opened the inner door, and took them into +another, to show them the portrait of his brother George--a fine young +man also, with a fair, pleasing countenance. + +"He is like Elster; not like you, Hartledon," cried a young man, whose +name was Carteret. + +"_Was_, you mean, Carteret," corrected Lord Hartledon, in tones of sad +regret. "There was a great family resemblance between us all, I believe." + +"He died from an accident, did he not?" said Mr. O'Moore, an Irishman, +who liked to be called "The O'Moore." + +"Yes." + +Percival Elster turned to his brother, and spoke in low tones. "Edward, +was any particular person suspected of having fired the shot?" + +"None. A set of loose, lawless characters were out that night, and--" + +"What are you all looking at here?" + +The interruption came from Lady Kirton, who was sailing into the room +with Maude. A striking contrast the one presented to the other. Maude in +pink silk and a pink wreath, her haughty face raised in pride, her dark +eyes flashing, radiantly beautiful. The old dowager, broad as she was +high, her face rouged, her short snub nose always carried in the air, her +light eyes unmeaning, her flaxen eyebrows heavy, her flaxen curls crowned +by a pea-green turban. Her choice attire was generally composed, as +to-day, of some cheap, flimsy, gauzy material bright in colour. This +evening it was orange lace, all flounces and frills, with a lace scarf; +and she generally had innumerable ends of quilted net flying about her +skirts, not unlike tails. It was certain she did not spend much money +upon her own attire; and how she procured the costly dresses for Maude +the latter appeared in was ever a mystery. You can hardly fancy the +bedecked old figure that she made. The O'Moore nearly laughed out, as he +civilly turned to answer her question. + +"We were looking at this portrait, Lady Kirton." + +"And saying how much he was like Val," put in young Carteret, between +whom and the dowager warfare also existed. "Val, which was the elder?" + +"George was." + +"Then his death made you heir-presumptive," cried the thoughtless young +man, speaking impulsively. + +"Heir-presumptive to what?" asked the dowager snapping at the words. + +"To Hartledon." + +"_He_ heir to Hartledon! Don't trouble yourself, young man, to imagine +that Val Elster's ever likely to come into Hartledon. Do you want to +shoot his lordship, as _he_ was shot?" + +The uncalled-for retort, the strangely intemperate tones, the quick +passionate fling of the hand towards the portrait astonished young +Carteret not a little. Others were surprised also; and not one present +but stared at the speaker. But she said no more. The pea-green turban and +flaxen curls were nodding ominously; and that was all. + +The animus to Val Elster was very marked. Lord Hartledon glanced at his +brother with a smile, and led the way back to the other drawing-room. At +that moment the butler announced dinner; the party filed across the hall +to the fine old dining-room, and began finding their seats. + +"I shall sit there, Val. You can take a chair at the side." + +Val did look surprised at this. He was about to take the foot of his +brother's table, as usual; and there was the pea-green turban standing +over him, waiting to usurp it. It would have been quite beyond Val +Elster, in his sensitiveness, to tell her she should not have it; but he +did feel annoyed. He was sweet-tempered, however. Moreover, he was a +gentleman, and only waited to make one remark. + +"I fear you will not like this place, ma'am. Won't it look odd to see a +lady at the bottom of the table?" + +"I have promised my dear nephew to act as mistress, and to see after his +guests; and I don't choose to sit at the side under those circumstances." +But she had looked at Lord Hartledon, and hesitated before she spoke. +Perhaps she thought his lordship would resign the head of the table to +her, and take the foot himself. If so, she was mistaken. + +"You will be more comfortable at the side, Lady Kirton," cried Lord +Hartledon, when he discovered what the bustle was about. + +"Not at all, Hartledon; not at all." + +"But I like my brother to face me, ma'am. It is his accustomed place." + +Remonstrance was useless. The dowager nodded her pea-green turban, and +firmly seated herself. Val Elster dexterously found a seat next Lady +Maude; and a gay gleam of triumph shot out of his deep-blue eyes as he +glanced at the dowager. It was not the seat she would have wished him to +take; but to interfere again might have imperilled her own place. Maude +laughed. She did not care for Val--rather despised him in her heart; but +he was the most attractive man present, and she liked admiration. + +Another link in the chain! For how many, many days and years, dating from +that evening, did that awful old woman take a seat, at intervals, at Lord +Hartledon's table, and assume it as a right! + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +JEALOUSY. + + +The rain poured down on the Monday morning; and Lord Hartledon stood at +the window of the countess-dowager's sitting-room--one she had +unceremoniously adopted for her own private use--smoking a cigar, and +watching the clouds. Any cigar but his would have been consigned to the +other side the door. Mr. Elster had only shown (by mere accident) the +end of his cigar-case, and the dowager immediately demanded what he meant +by displaying that article in the presence of ladies. A few minutes +afterwards Lord Hartledon entered, smoking, and was allowed to enjoy his +cigar with impunity. Good-tempered Val's delicate lips broke into a +silent smile as he marked the contrast. + +He lounged on the sofa, doing nothing, in his idle fashion; Lord +Hartledon continued to watch the clouds. On the previous Saturday night +the gentlemen had entered into an argument about boating: the result was +that a match on the river was arranged, and some bets were pending on it. +It had been fixed to come off this day, Monday; but if the rain continued +to come down, it must be postponed; for the ladies, who had been promised +the treat, would not venture out to see it. + +"It has come on purpose," grumbled Lord Hartledon. "Yesterday was as fine +and bright as it could be, the glass standing at set fair; and now, just +because this boating was to come off, the rain peppers down!" + +The rain excepted, it was a fair vision that he looked out upon. The room +faced the back of the house, and beyond the lovely grounds green slopes +extended to the river, tolerably wide here, winding peacefully in its +course. The distant landscape was almost like a scene from fairyland. + +The restless dowager--in a nondescript head-dress this morning, adorned +with an upright tuft of red feathers and voluminous skirts of brown net, +a jacket and flounces to match--betook herself to the side of Lord +Hartledon. + +"Where d'you get the boats?" she asked. + +"They are kept lower down, at the boat-house," he replied, puffing at his +cigar. "You can't see it from here; it's beyond Dr. Ashton's; lots of +'em; any number to be had for the hiring. Talking of Dr. Ashton, they +will dine here to-day, ma'am." + +"Who will?" asked Lady Kirton. + +"The doctor, Mrs. Ashton--if she's well enough--and Miss Ashton." + +"Who are they, my dear nephew?" + +"Why, don't you know? Dr. Ashton preached to you yesterday. He is Rector +of Calne; you must have heard of Dr. Ashton. They will be calling this +morning, I expect." + +"And you have invited them to dinner! Well, one must do the civil to this +sort of people." + +Lord Hartledon burst into a laugh. "You won't say 'this sort of people' +when you see the Ashtons, Lady Kirton. They are quite as good as we are. +Dr. Ashton has refused a bishopric, and Anne is the sweetest girl ever +created." + +Lady Maude, who was drawing, and exchanging a desultory sentence once in +a way with Val, suddenly looked up. Her colour had heightened, though it +was brilliant at all times. + +"Are you speaking of my maid?" she said--and it might be that she had not +attended to the conversation, and asked in ignorance, not in scorn. "Her +name is Anne." + +"I was speaking of Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon. + +"Allow me to beg Anne Ashton's pardon," returned Lady Maude; her tone +this time unmistakably mocking. "Anne is so common a name amongst +servants." + +"I don't care whether it is common amongst servants or uncommon," spoke +Lord Hartledon rather hotly, as though he would resent the covert sneer. +"It is Anne Ashton's; and I love the name for her sake. But I think it +a pretty name; and should, if she did not bear it; prettier than yours, +Maude." + +"And pray who _is_ Anne Ashton?" demanded the countess-dowager, with as +much hauteur as so queer an old figure and face could put on, whilst +Maude bent over her employment with white lips. + +"She is Dr. Ashton's daughter," spoke Lord Hartledon, shortly. "My +father valued him above all men. He loved Anne too--loved her dearly; +and--though I don't know whether it is quite fair to Anne to let this +out--the probable future connection between the families was most welcome +to him. Next to my father, we boys reverenced the doctor; he was our +tutor, in a measure, when we were staying at Hartledon; at least, tutor +to poor George and Val; they used to read with him." + +"And you would hint at some alliance between you and this Anne Ashton!" +cried the countess-dowager, in a fume; for she thought she saw a fear +that the great prize might slip through her fingers. "What sort of an +alliance, I should like to ask? Be careful what you say, Hartledon; you +may injure the young woman." + +"I'll take care I don't injure Anne Ashton," returned Lord Hartledon, +enjoying her temper. "As to an alliance with her--my earnest wish is, as +it was my father's, that time may bring it about. Val there knows I wish +it." + +Val glanced at his brother by way of answer. He had taken no part in the +discussion; his slight lips were drawn down, as he balanced a pair of +scissors on his forefinger, and he looked less good-tempered than usual. + +"Has she red hair and sky-blue eyes, and a doll's face? Does she sit in +the pew under the reading-desk with three other dolls?" asked the foaming +dowager. + +Lord Hartledon turned and stared at the speaker in wonder--what could be +so exciting her? + +"She has soft brown hair and eyes, and a sweet gentle face; she is a +graceful, elegant, attractive girl," said he, curtly. "She sat alone +yesterday; for Arthur was in another part of the church, and Mrs. Ashton +was not there. Mrs. Ashton is not in good health, she tells me, and +cannot always come. The Rector's pew is the one with green curtains." + +"Oh, _that_ vulgar-looking girl!" exclaimed Maude, her unjust words--and +she knew them to be unjust--trembling on her lips. "The Grand Sultan +might exalt her to be his chief wife, but he could never make a lady of +her, or get her to look like one." + +"Be quiet, Maude," cried the countess-dowager, who, with all her own +mistakes, had the sense to see that this sort of disparagement would only +recoil upon them with interest, and who did not like the expression of +Lord Hartledon's face. "You talk as if you had seen this Mrs. Ashton, +Hartledon, since your return." + +"I should not be many hours at Hartledon without seeing Mrs. Ashton," he +answered. "That's where I was yesterday afternoon, ma'am, when you were +so kindly anxious in your inquiries as to what had become of me. I dare +say I was absent an unconscionable time. I never know how it passes, once +I am with Anne." + +"We represent Love as blind, you know," spoke Maude, in her desperation, +unable to steady her pallid lips. "You apparently do not see it, Lord +Hartledon, but the young woman is the very essence of vulgarity." + +A pause followed the speech. The countess-dowager turned towards her +daughter in a blazing rage, and Val Elster quitted the room. + +"Maude," said Lord Hartledon, "I am sorry to tell you that you have put +your foot in it." + +"Thank you," panted Lady Maude, in her agitation. "For giving my opinion +of your Anne Ashton?" + +"Precisely. You have driven Val away in suppressed indignation." + +"Is Val of the Anne Ashton faction, that the truth should tell upon him, +as well as upon you?" she returned, striving to maintain an assumption of +sarcastic coldness. + +"It is upon him that the words will tell. Anne is engaged to him." + +"Is it true? Is Val really engaged to her?" cried the countess-dowager in +an ecstacy of relief, lifting her snub nose and painted cheeks, whilst a +glad light came into Maude's eyes again. "I did hear he was engaged to +some girl; but such reports of younger sons go for nothing." + +"Val was engaged to her before he went abroad. Whether he will get her or +not, is another thing." + +"To hear you talk, Hartledon, one might have supposed you cared for the +girl yourself," cried Lady Kirton; but her brow was smooth again, and her +tone soft as honey. "You should be more cautious." + +"Cautious! Why so? I love and respect Anne beyond any girl on earth. But +that Val hastened to make hay when the sun shone, whilst I fell asleep +under the hedge, I don't know but I might have proposed to her myself," +he added, with a laugh. "However, it shall not be my fault if Val does +not win her." + +The countess-dowager said no more. She was worldly-wise in her way, and +thought it best to leave well alone. Sailing out of the room she left +them alone together: as she was fond of doing. + +"Is it not rather--rather beneath an Elster to marry an obscure country +clergyman's daughter?" began Lady Maude, a strange bitterness filling her +heart. + +"I tell you, Maude, the Ashtons are our equals in all ways. He is a proud +old doctor of divinity--not old, however--of irreproachable family and +large private fortune." + +"You spoke of him as a tutor?" + +"A tutor! Oh, I said he was in a measure our tutor when we were young. I +meant in training us--in training us to good; and he allowed George and +Val to read with him, and directed their studies: all for love, and out +of the friendship he and my father bore each other. Dr. Ashton a paid +tutor!" ejaculated Lord Hartledon, laughing at the notion. "Dr. Ashton an +obscure country clergyman! And even if he were, who is Val, that he +should set himself up?" + +"He is the Honourable Val Elster." + +"Very honourable! Val is an unlucky dog of a spendthrift; that's what Val +is. See how many times he has been set up on his legs!--and has always +come down again. He had that place in the Government my father got him. +He was attache in Paris; subsequently in Vienna; he has had ever so many +chances, and drops through all. One can't help loving Val; he is an +attractive, sweet-tempered, good-natured fellow; but he was certainly +born under an unlucky star. Elster's folly!" + +"Val will drop through more chances yet," remarked Lady Maude. "I pity +Miss Ashton, if she means to wait for him." + +"Means to! She loves him passionately--devotedly. She would wait for him +all her life, and think it happiness only to see him once in a way." + +"As an astronomer looks at a star through a telescope," laughed Maude; +"and Val is not worth the devotion." + +"Val is not a bad fellow in the main; quite the contrary, Maude. Of +course we all know his besetting sin--irresolution. A child might sway +him, either for good or ill. The very best thing that could happen to Val +would be his marriage with Anne. She is sensible and judicious; and I +think Val could not fail to keep straight under her influence. If Dr. +Ashton could only be brought to see the matter in this light!" + +"Can he not?" + +"He thinks--and I don't say he has not reason--that Val should show +some proof of stability before his marriage, instead of waiting until +after it. The doctor has not gone to the extent of parting them, or of +suspending the engagement; but he is prepared to be strict and exacting +as to Mr. Val's line of conduct; and I fancy the suspicion that it would +be so has kept Val away from Calne." + +"What will be done?" + +"I hardly know. Val does not make a confidant of me, and I can't get to +the bottom of how he is situated. Debts I am sure he has; but whether--" + +"Val always had plenty of those," interrupted Maude. + +"True. When my father died, three parts of Val's inheritance went to pay +off debts nobody knew he had contracted. The worst is, he glides into +these difficulties unwittingly, led and swayed by others. We don't say +Elster's sin, or Elster's crimes; we say Elster's folly. I don't believe +Val ever in his life did a bad thing of deliberate intention. Designing +people get hold of him--fast fellows who are going headlong down-hill +themselves--and Val, unable to say 'No,' is drawn here and drawn there, +and tumbles with them into a quagmire, and perhaps has to pay his +friends' costs, as well as his own, before he can get out of it. Do you +believe in luck, Maude?" + +"In luck?" answered Maude, raising her eyes at the abrupt question. "I +don't know." + +"I believe in it. I believe that some are born under a lucky star, and +others under an unlucky one. Val is one of the latter. He is always +unlucky. Set him up, and down he comes again. I don't think I ever knew +Val lucky in my life. Look at his nearly blowing his arm off that time in +Scotland! You will laugh at me, I dare say; but a thought crosses me at +odd moments that his ill-luck will prevail still, in the matter of Miss +Ashton. Not if I can help it, however; I'll do my best, for Anne's sake." + +"You seem to think very much of her yourself," cried Lady Maude, her +cheeks crimsoning with an angry flush. + +"I do--as Val's future wife. I love Anne Ashton better than any one +else in the world. We all loved her. So would you if you knew her. In +my mother's last illness Anne was a greater comfort to her than Laura." + +"Should you ever think of a wife on your own score, she may not like this +warm praise of Miss Anne Ashton," said Lady Maude, assiduously drawing, +her hot face bent down to within an inch of the cardboard. + +"Not like it? She wouldn't be such an idiot, I hope, as to dislike it. Is +not Anne going to be my brother's wife? Did you suppose I spoke of Anne +in that way?--you must have been dreaming, Maude." + +Maude hoped she had been. The young man took his cigar from his mouth, +ran a penknife through the end, and began smoking again. + +"That time is far enough off, Maude. _I_ am not going to tie myself up +with a wife, or to think of one either, for many a long year to come." + +Her heart beat with a painful throbbing. "Why not?" + +"No danger. My wild oats are not sown yet, any more than Val's; only you +don't hear of them, because I have money to back me, and he has not. I +must find a girl I should like to make my wife before that event comes +off, Maude; and I have not found her yet." + +Lady Maude damaged her landscape. She sketched in a tree where a chimney +ought to have been, and laid the fault upon her pencil. + +"It has been real sport, Maude, ever since I came home from knocking +about abroad, to hear and see the old ladies. They think I am to be +caught with a bait; and that bait is each one's own enchanting daughter. +Let them angle, an they please--it does no harm. They are amused, and I +am none the worse. I enjoy a laugh sometimes, while I take care of +myself; as I have need to do, or I might find myself the victim of some +detestable breach-of-promise affair, and have to stand damages. But for +Anne Ashton, Val would have had his head in that Westminster-noose a +score of times; and the wonder is that he has kept out of it. No, thank +you, my ladies; I am not a marrying man." + +"Why do you tell me this?" asked Lady Maude, a sick faintness stealing +over her face and heart. + +"You are one of ourselves, and I tell you anything. It will be fun for +you, Maude, if you'll open your eyes and look on. There are some in the +house now who--" He stopped and laughed. + +"I would rather not hear this!" she cried passionately. "Don't tell me." + +Lord Hartledon looked at her, begged her pardon, and quitted the room +with his cigar. Lady Maude, black as night, dashed her pencil on to the +cardboard, and scored her sketch all over with ugly black lines. Her face +itself looked ugly then. + +"Why did he say this to me?" she asked of her fevered heart. "Was it said +with a purpose? Has he found out that I _love_ him? that my shallow old +mother is one of the subtlest of the anglers? and that--" + +"What on earth are you at with your drawing, Maude?" + +"Oh, I have grown sick of the sketch. I am not in a drawing mood to-day, +mamma." + +"And how fierce you were looking," pursued the countess-dowager, who had +darted in at rather an inopportune moment for Maude--darting in on people +at such moments being her habit. "And that was the sketch Hartledon asked +you to do for him from the old painting!" + +"He may do it himself, if he wants it done." + +"Where is Hartledon?" + +"I don't know. Gone out somewhere." + +"Has he offended you, or vexed you?" + +"Well, he did vex me. He has just been assuring me with the coolest air +that he should never marry; or, at least, not for years and years to +come. He told me to notice what a heap of girls were after him--or their +mothers for them--and the fun he had over it, not being a marrying man." + +"Is that all? You need not have put yourself in a fatigue, and spoilt +your drawing. Lord Hartledon shall be your husband before six months are +over--or reproach me ever afterwards with being a false prophetess and a +bungling manager." + +Maude's brow cleared. She had almost childlike confidence in the tact of +her unscrupulous mother. + +But how the morning's conversation altogether rankled in her heart, +none save herself could tell: ay, and in that of the dowager. Although +Anne Ashton was the betrothed of Percival Elster, and Lord Hartledon's +freely-avowed love for her was evidently that of a brother, and he had +said he should do all he could to promote the marriage, the strongest +jealousy had taken possession of Lady Maude's heart. She already hated +Anne Ashton with a fierce and bitter hatred. She turned sick with envy +when, in the morning visit that was that day paid by the Ashtons, she saw +that Anne was really what Lord Hartledon had described her--one of the +sweetest, most lovable, most charming of girls; almost without her equal +in the world for grace and goodness and beauty. She turned more sick with +envy when, at dinner afterwards, to which the Ashtons came, Lord +Hartledon devoted himself to them, almost to the neglect of his other +guests, lingering much with Anne. + +The countess-dowager marked it also, and was furious. Nothing could be +urged against them; they were unexceptionable. The doctor, a chatty, +straightforward, energetic man, of great intellect and learning, and +emphatically a gentleman; his wife attracting by her unobtrusive +gentleness; his daughter by her grace and modest self-possession. +Whatever Maude Kirton might do, she could never, for very shame, again +attempt to disparage them. Surely there was no just reason for the hatred +which took possession of Maude's heart; a hatred that could never be +plucked out again. + +But Maude knew how to dissemble. It pleased her to affect a sudden and +violent friendship for Anne. + +"Hartledon told me how much I should like you," she whispered, as they +sat together on the sofa after dinner, to which Maude had drawn her. "He +said I should find you the dearest girl I ever met; and I do so. May I +call you 'Anne'?" + +Not for a moment did Miss Ashton answer. Truth to say, far from +reciprocating the sudden fancy boasted of by Maude, she had taken an +unaccountable dislike to her. Something of falsity in the tone, of sudden +_hardiesse_ in the handsome black eyes, acted upon Anne as an instinctive +warning. + +"As you please, Lady Maude." + +"Thank you so much. Hartledon whispered to me the secret about you and +Val--Percival, I mean. Shall you accomplish the task, think you?" + +"What task?" + +"That of turning him from his evil ways." + +"His evil ways?" repeated Anne, in a surprised indignation she did not +care to check. "I do not understand you, Lady Maude." + +"Pardon me, my dear Anne: it was hazardous so to speak _to you_. I ought +to have said his thoughtless ways. Quant a moi, je ne vois pas la +difference. Do you understand French?" + +Miss Ashton looked at her, really not knowing what this style of +conversation might mean. Maude continued; she had a habit of putting +forth a sting on occasion, or what she hoped might be a sting. + +"You are staring at the superfluous question. Of course it is one in +these _French_ days, when everyone speaks it. What was I saying? Oh, +about Percival. Should he ever have the luck to marry, meaning the +income, he will make a docile husband; but his wife will have to keep him +under her finger and thumb; she must be master as well as mistress, for +his own sake." + +"I think Mr. Elster would not care to be so spoken of," said Miss Ashton, +her face beginning to glow. + +"You devoted girl! It is you who don't care to hear it. Take care, Anne; +too much love is not good for gaining the mastership; and I have heard +that you are--shall I say it?--_eperdue_." + +Anne, in spite of her calm good sense, was actually provoked to a retort +in kind, and felt terribly vexed with herself for it afterwards. "A +rumour of the same sort has been breathed as to the Lady Maude Kirton's +regard for Lord Hartledon." + +"Has it?" returned Lady Maude, with a cool tone and a glowing face. "You +are angry with me without reason. Have I not offered to swear to you an +eternal friendship?" + +Anne shook her head, and her lips parted with a curious expression. "I do +not swear so lightly, Lady Maude." + +"What if I were to avow to you that it is true?--that I do love Lord +Hartledon, deeply as it is known you love his brother," she added, +dropping her voice--"would you believe me?" + +Anne looked at the speaker's face, but could read nothing. Was she in +jest or earnest? + +"No, I would not believe you," she said, with a smile. "If you did love +him, you would not proclaim it." + +"Exactly. I was jesting. What is Lord Hartledon to me?--save that we are +cousins, and passably good friends. I must avow one thing, that I like +him better than I do his brother." + +"For that no avowal is necessary," said Anne; "the fact is sufficiently +evident." + +"You are right, Anne;" and for once Maude spoke earnestly. "I do _not_ +like Percival Elster. But I will always be civil to him for your sweet +sake." + +"Why do you dislike him?--if I may ask it. Have you any particular reason +for doing so?" + +"I have no reason in the world. He is a good-natured, gentlemanly fellow; +and I know no ill of him, except that he is always getting into scrapes, +and dropping, as I hear, a lot of money. But if he got out of his last +guinea, and went almost in rags, it would be nothing to me; so _that's_ +not it. One does take antipathies; I dare say you do, Miss Ashton. What a +blessing Hartledon did not die in that fever he caught last year! Val +would have inherited. What a mercy!" + +"That he lived? or that Val is not Lord Hartledon?" + +"Both. But I believe I meant that Val is not reigning." + +"You think he would not have made a worthy inheritor?" + +"A worthy inheritor? Oh, I was not glancing at that phase of the +question. Here he comes! I will give up my seat to him." + +It is possible Lady Maude expected some pretty phrases of affection; +begging her to keep it. If so, she was mistaken. Anne Ashton was one of +those essentially quiet, self-possessed girls in society, whose manners +seem almost to border on apathy. She did not say "Do go," or "Don't go." +She was perfectly passive; and Maude moved away half ashamed of herself, +and feeling, in spite of her jealousy and her prejudice, that if ever +there was a ladylike girl upon earth, it was Anne Ashton. + +"How do you like her, Anne?" asked Val Elster, dropping into the vacant +place. + +"Not much." + +"Don't you? She is very handsome." + +"Very handsome indeed. Quite beautiful. But still I don't like her." + +"You would like her if you knew her. She has a rare spirit, only the old +dowager keeps it down." + +"I don't think she much likes you, Val." + +"She is welcome to dislike me," returned Val Elster. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +AT THE BRIDGE. + + +The famous boat-race was postponed. Some of the competitors had +discovered they should be the better for a few days' training, and the +contest was fixed for the following Monday. + +Not a day of the intervening week but sundry small cockle-shells--things +the ladies had already begun to designate as the "wager-boats," each +containing a gentleman occupant, exercising his arms on a pair of +sculls--might be seen any hour passing and repassing on the water; and +the green slopes of Hartledon, which here formed the bank of the river, +grew to be tenanted with fair occupants. Of course they had their +favourites, these ladies, and their little bets of gloves on them. + +As the day for the contest drew near the interest became really exciting; +and on the Saturday morning there was quite a crowd on the banks. The +whole week, since Monday, had been most beautiful--calm, warm, lovely. +Percival Elster, in his rather idle fashion, was not going to join in the +contest: there were enough without him, he said. + +He was standing now, talking to Anne. His face wore a sad expression, +as she glanced up at him from beneath the white feather of her rather +large-brimmed straw hat. Anne had been a great deal at Hartledon that +week, and was as interested in the race as any of them, wearing Lord +Hartledon's colours. + +"How did you hear it, Anne?" he was asking. + +"Mamma told me. She came into my room just now, and said there had been +words." + +"Well, it's true. The doctor took me to task exactly as he used to do +when I was a boy. He said my course of life was sinful; and I rather +fired up at that. Idle and useless it may be, but sinful it is not: +and I said so. He explained that he meant that, and persisted in his +assertion--that an idle, aimless, profitless life was a sinful one. Do +you know the rest?" + +"No," she faltered. + +"He said he would give me to the end of the year. And if I were then +still pursuing my present frivolous course of life, doing no good to +myself or to anyone else, he should cancel the engagement. My darling, +I see how this pains you." + +She was suppressing her tears with difficulty. "Papa will be sure to keep +his word, Percival. He is so resolute when he thinks he is right." + +"The worst is, it's true. I do fall into all sorts of scrapes, and I have +got out of money, and I do idle my time away," acknowledged the young man +in his candour. "And all the while, Anne, I am thinking and hoping to do +right. If ever I get set on my legs again, _won't_ I keep on them!" + +"But how many times have you said so before!" she whispered. + +"Half the follies for which I am now paying were committed when I was but +a boy," he said. "One of the men now visiting here, Dawkes, persuaded me +to put my name to a bill for him for fifteen hundred pounds, and I had to +pay it. It hampered me for years; and in the end I know I must have paid +it twice over. I might have pleaded that I was under age when he got my +signature, but it would have been scarcely honourable to do so." + +"And you never profited by the transaction?" + +"Never by a sixpence. It was done for Dawkes's accommodation, not mine. +He ought to have paid it, you say? My dear, he is a man of straw, and +never had fifteen hundred pounds of his own in his life." + +"Does Lord Hartledon know of this? I wonder he has him here." + +"I did not mention it at the time; and the thing's past and done with. I +only tell you now to give you an idea of the nature of my embarrassments +and scrapes. Not one in ten has really been incurred for myself: they +only fall upon me. One must buy experience." + +Terribly vexed was that sweet face, an almost painful sadness upon the +generally sunny features. + +"I will never give you up, Anne," he continued, with emotion. "I told the +doctor so. I would rather give up life. And you know that your love is +mine." + +"But my duty is theirs. And if it came to a contest--Oh, Percival! you +know, you know which would have to give place. Papa is so resolute in +right." + +"It's a shame that fortune should be so unequally divided!" cried the +young man, resentfully. "Here's Edward with an income of thirty thousand +a year, and I, his own brother, only a year or two younger, can't boast a +fourth part as many hundreds!" + +"Oh, Val! your father left you better off than that!" + +"But so much of it went, Anne," was the gloomy answer. "I never +understood the claims that came in against me, for my part. Edward had no +debts to speak of; but then look at his allowance." + +"He was the eldest son," she gently said. + +"I know that. I am not wishing myself in Edward's place, or he out of it. +I heartily wish him health and a long life to wear his honours; it is no +fault of his that he should be rolling in riches, and I a martyr to +poverty. Still, one can't help feeling at odd moments, when the shoe's +pinching awfully, that the system is not altogether a just one." + +"Was that a sincere wish, Val Elster?" + +Val wheeled round on Lady Maude, from whom the question came. She had +stolen up to them unperceived, and stood there in her radiant beauty, her +magnificent dark eyes and her glowing cheeks set off by a little +coquettish black-velvet hat. + +"A sincere wish--that my brother should live long to enjoy his honours!" +echoed Val, in a surprised tone. "Indeed it is. I hope he will live to a +green old age, and leave goodly sons to succeed him." + +Maude laughed. A brighter hue stole into her face, a softer shade to her +eyes: she saw herself, as in a vision, the goodly mother of those goodly +sons. + +"Are you going to wear _that_?" she asked, touching the knot of ribbon in +Miss Ashton's hands with her petulant fingers. "They are Lord Hartledon's +colours." + +"I shall wear it on Monday. Lord Hartledon gave it to me." + +A rash avowal. The competitors, in a sort of joke, had each given away +one knot of his own colours. Lady Maude had had three given to her; but +she was looking for another worth them all--from Lord Hartledon. And +now--it was given, it appeared, to Anne Ashton! For her very life she +could not have helped the passionate taunt that escaped from her, not in +words, but in tone: + +"To _you_!" + +"Kissing goes by favour," broke from the delicate lips of Val Elster, and +Lady Maude could have struck him for the significant, saucy expression of +his violet-blue eyes. "Edward loves Anne better than he ever loved his +sisters; and for any other love--_that's_ still far enough from his +heart, Maude." + +She had recovered herself instantly; cried out "Yes" to those in the +distance, as if she heard a call, and went away humming a tune. + +"Val, she loves your brother," whispered Anne. + +"Do you think so? I do sometimes; and again I'm puzzled. She acts well +if she does. The other day I told Edward she was in love with him: he +laughed at me, and said I was dreaming; that if she had any love for him, +it was cousin's love. What's more, Anne, he would prefer not to receive +any other; so Maude need not look after him: it will be labour lost. Here +comes that restless old dowager down upon us! I shall leave you to her, +Anne. I never dare say my soul's my own in the presence of that woman." + +Val strolled away as he spoke. He was not at ease that day, and the +sharp, meddling old woman would have been intolerable. It was all very +well to put a good face on matters to Anne, but he was in more perplexity +than he cared to confess to. It seemed to him that he would rather die +than give up Anne: and yet--in the straightforward, practical good sense +of Dr. Ashton, he had a formidable adversary to deal with. + +He suddenly found an arm inserted within his own, and saw it was his +brother. Walking together thus, there was a great resemblance between +them. + +They were of the same height, much the same build; both were very +good-looking men, but Percival had the nicer features; and he was fair, +and his brother dark. + +"What is this, Val, about a dispute with the doctor?" began Lord +Hartledon. + +"It was not a dispute," returned Val. "There were a few words, and I was +hasty. However, I begged his pardon, and we parted good friends." + +"Under a flag of truce, eh?" + +"Something of that sort." + +"Something of that sort!" repeated Lord Hartledon. "Don't you think, Val, +it would be to your advantage if you trusted me more thoroughly than you +do? Tell me the whole truth of your position, and let me see what can be +done for you." + +"There's not much to tell," returned Val, in his stupidity. Even with his +brother his ultra-sensitiveness clung to him; and he could no more have +confessed the extent of his troubles than he could have taken wing that +moment and soared away into the air. Val Elster was one of those who +trust to things "coming right" with time. + +"I have been talking to the doctor, Val. I called in just now to see Mrs. +Ashton, and he spoke to me about you." + +"Very kind of him, I'm sure!" retorted Val. "It is just this, Edward. He +is vexed at what he calls my idle ways, and waste of time: as if I need +plod on, like a city clerk, six days a week and no holidays! I know I +must do something before I can win Anne; and I will do it: but the doctor +need not begin to cry out about cancelling the engagement." + +"How much do you owe, Val?" + +"I can't tell." + +Lord Hartledon thought this an evasion. But it was true. Val Elster knew +he owed a great deal more than he could pay; but how much it might be on +the whole, he had but a very faint idea. + +"Well, Val, I have told the doctor I shall look into matters, and I hope +to do it efficiently, for Anne's sake. I suppose the best thing will be +to try and get you an appointment again." + +"Oh, Edward, if you would! And you know you have the ear of the +ministry." + +"I dare say it can be managed. But this will be of little use if you are +still to remain an embarrassed man. I hear you were afraid of arrest in +London." + +"Who told you that?" + +"Dawkes." + +"Dawkes! Then, Edward--" Val Elster stopped. In his vexation, he was +about to retaliate on Captain Dawkes by a little revelation on the score +of _his_ affairs, certain things that might not have redounded to that +gallant officer's credit. But he arrested the words in time: he was of a +kindly nature, not fond of returning ill for ill. With all his follies, +Val Elster could not remember to have committed an evil act in all his +life, save one. And that one he had still the pleasure of paying for +pretty deeply. + +"Dawkes knows nothing of my affairs except from hearsay, Edward. I was +once intimate with the man; but he served me a shabby trick, and that +ended the friendship. I don't like him." + +"I dare say what he said was not true," said Lord Hartledon kindly. "You +might as well make a confidant of me. However, I have not time to talk +to-day. We will go into the matter, Val, after Monday, when this race has +come off, and see what arrangement can be made for you. There's only one +thing bothers me." + +"What's that?" + +"The danger that it may be a wasted arrangement. If you are only set up +on your legs to come down again, as you have before, it will be so much +waste of time and money; so much loss, to me, of temper. Don't you see, +Val?" + +Percival Elster stopped in his walk, and withdrew his arm from his +brother's; his face and voice full of emotion. + +"Edward, I have learnt a lesson. What it has cost me I hardly yet know: +but it is _learnt_. On my sacred word of honour, in the solemn presence +of Heaven, I assert it, that I will never put my hand to another bill, +whatever may be the temptation. I have overcome, in this respect at +least, my sin." + +"Your sin?" + +"My nature's great sin; the besetting sin that has clung to me through +life; the unfortunate sin that is my bane to this hour--cowardly +irresolution." + +"All right, Val; I see you mean well now. We'll talk of these matters +next week. Instead of Elster's Folly, let it become Elster's Wisdom." + +Lord Hartledon wrung his brother's hand and turned away. His eyes fell on +Miss Ashton, and he went straight up to her. Putting the young lady's arm +within his own, without word or ceremony, he took her off to a distance: +and old Lady Kirton's skirts went round in a dance as she saw it. + +"I am about to take him in hand, Anne, and set him going again: I have +promised Dr. Ashton. We must get him a snug berth; one that even the +doctor won't object to, and set him straight in other matters. If he has +mortgaged his patrimony, it shall be redeemed. And, Anne, I think--I do +think--he may be trusted to keep straight for the future." + +Her soft sweet eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her lips parted with a +sunny smile. Lord Hartledon took her hand within his own as it lay on his +arm, and the furious old dowager saw it all from the distance. + +"Don't say as much as this to him, Anne: I only tell you. Val is so +sanguine, that it may be better not to tell him all beforehand. And I +want, of course, first of all, to get a true list of--that is, a true +statement of facts," he broke off, not caring to speak the word "debts" +to that delicate girl before him. "He is my only brother; my father left +him to me, for he knew what Val was; and I'll do my best for him. I'd do +it for Val's own sake, apart from the charge. And, Anne, once Val is on +his legs with an income, snug and comfortable, I shall recommend him to +marry without delay; for, after all, you will be his greatest safeguard." + +A blush suffused her face, and Lord Hartledon smiled. + +Down came the countess-dowager. + +"Here's that old dowager calling to me. She never lets me alone. Val sent +me into a fit of laughter yesterday, saying she had designs on me for +Maude. Poor deluded woman! Yes, ma'am, I hear. What is it?" + +Mr. Elster went strolling along on the banks of the river, towards Calne; +not with any particular purpose, but in his restless uneasiness. He had a +tender conscience, and his past follies were pressing on it heavily. Of +one thing he felt sure--that he was more deeply involved than Hartledon +or anyone else suspected, perhaps even himself. The way was charming in +fine weather, though less pleasant in winter. It was by no means a +frequented road, and belonged of right to Lord Hartledon only; but it was +open to all. Few chose it when they could traverse the more ordinary way. +The narrow path on the green plain, sheltered by trees, wound in and out, +now on the banks of the river, now hidden amidst a portion of the wood. +Altogether it was a wild and lonely pathway; not one that a timid nature +would choose on a dark night. You might sit in the wood, which lay to the +left, a whole day through, and never see a soul. + +One part of the walk was especially beautiful. A green hollow, where the +turf was soft as moss; open to the river on the right, with a glimpse of +the lovely scenery beyond; and on the left, the clustering trees of the +wood. Yet further, through a break in the trees, might be seen a view of +the houses of Calne. A little stream, or rivulet, trickled from the wood, +and a rustic bridge--more for ornament than use, for a man with long legs +could stride the stream well--was thrown over it. Val had reached thus +far, when he saw someone standing on the bridge, his arms on the parapet, +apparently in a brown study. + +A dark, wild-looking man, whose face, at the first glimpse, seemed all +hair. There was certainly a profusion of it; eyebrows, beard, whiskers, +all heavy, and black as night. He was attired in loose fustian clothes +with a red handkerchief wound round his throat, and a low slouching +hat--one of those called wide-awake--partially concealed his features. By +his side stood another man in plain, dark, rather seedy clothes, the coat +outrageously long. He wore a cloth hat, whose brim hid his face, and he +was smoking a cigar. Both men were slightly built and under middle +height. This one was adorned with red whiskers. + +The moment Mr. Elster set eyes on the dark one, he felt that he saw the +man Pike before him. It happened that he had not met him during these few +days of his sojourn; but some of the men staying at Hartledon had, and +had said what a loose specimen he appeared to be. The other was a +stranger, and did not look like a countryman at all. + +Mr. Elster saw them both give a sharp look at him as he approached; +and then they spoke together. Both stepped off the bridge, as though +deferring to him, and stood aside as they watched him cross over, Pike +touching his wide-awake. + +"Good-day, my lord." + +Val nodded by way of answer, and continued his stroll onwards. In the +look he had taken at Pike, it struck him he had seen the face before: +something in the countenance seemed familiar to his memory. And to his +surprise he saw that the man was young. + +The supposed reminiscence did not trouble him: he was too pre-occupied +with thoughts of his own affairs to have leisure for Mr. Pike's. A short +bit of road, and this rude, sheltered part of the way terminated in more +open ground, where three paths diverged: one to the front of Hartledon; +one to some cottages, and on through the wood to the high-road; and one +towards the Rectory and Calne. Rural paths still, all of them; and the +last was provided with a bench or two. Val Elster strolled on almost to +the Rectory, and then turned back: he had no errand at Calne, and the +Rectory he would rather keep out of just now. When he reached the little +bridge Pike was on it alone; the other had disappeared. As before, he +stepped off to make way for Mr. Elster. + +"I beg pardon, sir, for addressing you just now as Lord Hartledon." + +The salutation took Val by surprise; and though the voice seemed muffled, +as though the man purposely mouthed his words, the accent and language +were superior to anything he might have expected from one of Mr. Pike's +appearance and reputed character. + +"No matter," said Val, courteous even to Pike, in his kindly nature. "You +mistook me for my brother. Many do." + +"Not I," returned the man, assuming a freedom and a roughness at variance +with his evident intelligence. "I know you for the Honourable Percival +Elster." + +"Ah," said Mr. Elster, a slight curiosity stirring his mind, but not +sufficient to induce him to follow it up. + +"But I like to do a good turn if I can," pursued Pike; "and I think, sir, +I did one to you in calling you Lord Hartledon." + +Val Elster had been passing on. He turned and looked at the man. + +"Are you in any little temporary difficulty, might I ask?" continued +Pike. "No offense, sir; princes have been in such before now." + +Val Elster was so supremely conscious, especially in that reflective +hour, of being in a "little difficulty" that might prove more than +temporary, that he could only stare at the questioner and wait for more. + +"No offence again, if I'm wrong," resumed Pike; "but if that man you saw +here on the bridge is not looking after the Honourable Mr. Elster, I'm a +fool." + +"Why do you think this?" inquired Val, too fully aware that the fact was +a likely one to attempt any reproof or disavowal. + +"I'll tell you," said Pike; "I've said I don't mind doing a good turn +when I can. The man arrived here this morning by the slow six train from +London. He went into the Stag and had his breakfast, and has been +covertly dodging about ever since. He inquired his way to Hartledon. The +landlord of the Stag asked him what he wanted there, and got for answer +that his brother was one of the grooms in my lord's service. Bosh! He +went up, sneaking under the hedges and along by-ways, and took a view of +the house, standing a good hour behind a tree while he did it. I was +watching him." + +It instantly struck Percival Elster, by one of those flashes of +conviction that are no less sure than subtle, that Mr. Pike's interest in +this watching arose from a fear that the stranger might have been looking +after _him_. Pike continued: + +"After he had taken his fill of waiting, he came dodging down this way, +and I got into conversation with him. He wanted to know who I was. A poor +devil out of work, I told him; a soldier once, but maimed and good for +little now. We got chatty. I let him think he might trust me, and he +began asking no end of questions about Mr. Elster: whether he went out +much, what were his hours for going out, which road he mostly took in his +walks, and how he could know him from his brother the earl; he had heard +they were alike. The hound was puzzled; he had seen a dozen swells come +out of Hartledon, any one of which might be Mr. Elster; but I found he +had the description pretty accurate. Whilst we were talking, who should +come into view but yourself! 'This is him!' cried he. 'Not a bit of it,' +said I, carelessly; 'that's my lord.' Now you know, sir, why I saluted +you as Lord Hartledon." + +"Where is he now?" asked Percival Elster, feeling that he owed his +present state of liberty to this lawless man. + +Pike pointed to the narrow path in the wood, leading to the high-road. +"I filled him up with the belief that the way beyond this bridge up to +Hartledon was private, and he might be taken up for trespassing if he +attempted to follow it; so he went off that way to watch the front. If +the fellow hasn't a writ in his pocket, or something worse, call me a +simpleton. You are all right, sir, as long as he takes you for Lord +Hartledon." + +But there was little chance the fellow could long take him for Lord +Hartledon, and Percival Elster felt himself attacked with a shiver. He +knew it to be worse than a writ; it was an arrest. An arrest is not a +pleasant affair for any one; but a strong opinion--a certainty--seized +upon Val's mind that this would bring forth Dr. Ashton's veto of +separation from Anne. + +"I thank you for what you have done," frankly spoke Mr. Elster. + +"It's nothing, sir. He'll be dodging about after his prey; but I'll dodge +about too, and thwart his game if I can, though I have to swear that Lord +Hartledon's not himself. What's an oath, more or less, to me?" + +"Where have I seen you before?" asked Val. + +"Hard to say," returned Pike. "I have knocked about in many parts in my +time." + +"Are you from this neighbourhood?" + +"Never was in these parts at all till a year or so ago. It's not two +years yet." + +"What are you doing here?" + +"What I can. A bit of work when I can get it given to me. I went tramping +the country after I left the regiment--" + +"Then you have been a soldier?" interrupted Mr. Elster. + +"Yes, sir. In tramping the country I came upon this place: I crept into +a shed, and was there for some days; rheumatism took hold of me, and I +couldn't move. It was something to find I had a roof of any sort over my +head, and was let lie in it unmolested: and when I got better I stayed +on." + +"And have adopted it as your own, putting a window and a chimney into it! +But do you know that Lord Hartledon may not choose to retain you as a +tenant?" + +"If Lord Hartledon should think of ousting me, I would ask Mr. Elster to +intercede, in requital for the good turn I've done him this day," was the +bold answer. + +Mr. Elster laughed. "What is your name?" + +"Tom Pike." + +"I hear a great deal said of you, Pike, that's not pleasant; that you are +a poacher, and a--" + +"Let them that say so prove it," interrupted Pike, his dark brows +contracting. + +"But how do you manage to live?" + +"That's my business, and not Calne's. At any rate, Mr. Elster, I don't +steal." + +"I heard a worse hint dropped of you than any I have mentioned," +continued Val, after a pause. + +"Tell it out, sir. Let's have the whole catalogue at once." + +"That the night my brother, Mr. Elster, was shot, you were out with the +poachers." + +"I dare say you heard that I shot him, for I know it has been said," +fiercely cried the man. "It's a black lie!--and the time may come when I +shall ram it down Calne's throat. I swear that I never fired a shot that +night; I swear that I no more had a hand in Mr. Elster's death than you +had. Will you believe me, sir?" + +The accents of truth are rarely to be mistaken, and Val was certain he +heard them now. So far, he believed the man; and from that moment +dismissed the doubt from his mind, if indeed he had not dismissed it +before. + +"Do you know who did fire the shot?" + +"I do not; I was not out at all that night. Calne pitched upon me, +because there was no one else in particular to pitch upon. A dozen +poachers were in the fray, most of them with guns; little wonder the +random shot from one should have found a mark. I know nothing more +certain than that, so help--" + +"That will do," interrupted Mr. Elster, arresting what might be coming; +for he disliked strong language. "I believe you fully, Pike. What part of +the country were you born in?" + +"London. Born and bred in it." + +"That I do not believe," he said frankly. "Your accent is not that of a +Londoner." + +"As you will, sir," returned Pike. "My mother was from Devonshire; but I +was born and bred in London. I recognized that one with the writ for a +fellow cockney at once; and for what he was, too--a sheriffs officer. +Shouldn't be surprised but I knew him for one years ago." + +Val Elster dropped a coin into the man's hand, and bade him good morning. +Pike touched his wide-awake, and reiterated his intention of "dodging the +enemy." But, as Mr. Elster 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 VII. + +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, lost his temper; and +for once there was a quarrel, sharp and loud, between the brothers. It +did not last long; in its very midst they parted; throwing cutting words +one at the other. Lord Hartledon quitted the room, to join his guests; +Val Elster strode outside the window to cool his brain. + +But now, look at the obstinate pride of those two foolish men! They were +angry with each other in temper, but not in heart. In Percival Elster's +conscience there was an underlying conviction that his brother had acted +only in thoughtless impulse when he carried the misfortune to the +Rectory; whilst Lord Hartledon was even then full of plans for serving +Val, and considered he had more need to help him than ever. A day or two +given to the indulgence of their anger, and they would be firmer friends +than ever. + +The large French window of the dining-room, opening to the ground, was +flung back by Val Elster; and he stepped forth into the cool night, which +was beautifully fine. The room looked towards the river. The velvet lawn, +wet with the day's rain, lay calm and silent under the bright stars; the +flowers, clustering around far and wide, gave out their sweet and heavy +night perfume. Not an instant had he been outside when he became +conscious that some figure was gliding towards him--was almost close to +him; and he recognised Mr. Pike. Yes, that worthy gentleman appeared to +be only then arriving on his evening visit: in point of fact, he had been +glued ear and eye to the window during the quarrel. + +"What do you want?" demanded Mr. Elster. + +"Well, I came up here hoping to get a word with you, sir," replied the +man in his rough, abrupt manner, more in character with his appearance +and lawless reputation than with his accent and unmistakable +intelligence. "There was a nasty accident a few hours ago: that shark +came across his lordship." + +"I know he did," savagely spoke Val. "The result of your informing him +that I was Lord Hartledon." + +"I did it for the best, Mr. Elster. He'd have nabbed you that very time, +but for my putting him off the scent as I did." + +"Yes, yes, I am aware you did it for the best, and I suppose it turned +out to be so," quickly replied Val, some of his native kindliness +resuming its sway. "It's an unfortunate affair altogether, and that's +the best that can be said of it." + +"What I came up here for was to tell you he was gone." + +"Who is gone?" + +"The shark." + +"Gone!" + +"He went off by the seven train. Lord Hartledon told him he'd communicate +with his principals and see that the affair was arranged. It satisfied +the man, and he went away by the next train--which happened to be the +seven-o'clock one." + +"How do you know this?" asked Mr. Elster. + +"This way," was the answer. "I was hovering about outside that shed of +mine, and I saw the encounter at the parson's gate--for that's where it +took place. The first thing the fellow did when it was all over was to +bolt across the road, and accuse me of purposely misleading him. 'Not a +bit of it,' said I; 'if I did mislead you, it was unintentional, for I +took the one who came over the bridge on Saturday to be Lord Hartledon, +safe as eggs. But they have been down here only a week,' I went on, 'and +I suppose I don't know 'em apart yet.' I can't say whether he believed +me; I think he did; he's a soft sort of chap. It was all right, he said: +the earl had passed his word to him that it should be made so without his +arresting Mr. Elster, and he was off to London at once." + +"And he has gone?" + +Mr. Pike nodded significantly. "I watched him go; dodged him up to the +station and saw him off." + +Then this one danger was over! Val might breathe freely again. + +"And I thought you would like to know the coast was clear; so I came up +to tell you," concluded Pike. + +"Thank you for your trouble," said Mr. Elster. "I shall not forget it." + +"You'll remember it, perhaps, if a question arises touching that shed," +spoke the man. "I may need a word sometime with Lord Hartledon." + +"I'll remember it, Pike. Here, wait a moment. Is Thomas Pike your real +name?" + +"Well, I conclude it is. Pike was the name of my father and mother. As to +Thomas--not knowing where I was christened, I can't go and look at the +register; but they never called me anything but Tom. Did you wish to know +particularly?" + +There was a tone of mockery in the man's answer, not altogether +acceptable to his hearer; and he let him go without further hindrance. +But the man turned back in an instant of his own accord. + +"I dare say you are wanting to know why I did you this little turn, Mr. +Elster. I have been caught in corners myself before now; and if I can +help anybody to get out of them without trouble to myself, I'm willing to +do it. And to circumvent these law-sharks comes home to my spirit as +wholesome refreshment." + +Mr. Pike finally departed. He took the lonely way, and only struck into +the high-road opposite his own domicile, the shed. Passing round it, he +hovered at its rude door--the one he had himself made, along with the +ruder window--and then, treading softly, he stepped to the low stile in +the hedge, which had for years made the boundary between the waste land +on which the shed stood and Clerk Gum's garden. Here he halted a minute, +looking all ways. Then he stepped over the stile, crouched down amongst +Mr. Gum's cabbages, got under shelter of the hedge, and so stole onwards, +until he came to an anchor at the kitchen-window, and laid his ear to the +shutter, just as it had recently been laid against the glass in the +dining-room of my Lord Hartledon. + +That he had a propensity for prying into the private affairs of his +neighbours near and distant, there could be little doubt about. Mr. Pike, +however, was not destined on this one occasion to reap any substantial +reward. The kitchen appeared to be wrapped in perfect silence. Satisfying +himself as to this, he next took off his heavy shoes, stole past the back +door, and so round the clerk's house to the front. Very softly indeed +went he, creeping by the wall, and emerging at last round the angle, by +the window of the best parlour. Here, most excessively to Mr. Pike's +consternation, he came upon a lady doing exactly what he had come to +do--namely, stealthily listening at the window to anything there might be +to hear inside. + +The shrill scream she gave when she found her face in contact with the +wild intruder, might have been heard over at Dr. Ashton's. Clerk Gum, who +had been quietly writing in his office, came out in haste, and recognized +Mrs. Jones, the wife of the surly porter at the station, and step-mother +to the troublesome young servant, Rebecca. Pike had totally disappeared. + +Mrs. Jones, partly through fright, partly in anger arising from a +long-standing grievance, avowed the truth boldly: she had been listening +at the parlour-shutters ever since she went out of the house ten minutes +ago, and had been set upon by that wolf Pike. + +"Set upon!" exclaimed the clerk, looking swiftly in all directions for +the offender. + +"I don't know what else you can call it, when a highway robber--a +murderer, if all tales be true--steals round upon you without warning, +and glares his eyes into yours," shrieked Mrs. Jones wrathfully. "And if +he wasn't barefoot, Gum, my eyes strangely deceived me. I'd have you and +Nancy take care of your throats." + +She turned into the house, to the best parlour, where the clerk's wife +was sitting with a visitor, Mirrable. Mrs. Gum, when she found what the +commotion had been about, gave a sharp cry of terror, and shook from head +to foot. + +"On our premises! Close to our house! That dreadful man! Oh, Lydia, don't +you think you were mistaken?" + +"Mistaken!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "That wild face isn't one to be +mistaken: I should like to see its fellow in Calne. Why Lord Hartledon +don't have him taken up on suspicion of that murder, is odd to me." + +"You'd better hold your tongue about that suspicion," interposed +Mirrable. "I have cautioned you before, _I_ shouldn't like to breathe +a word against a desperate man; I should go about in fear that he might +hear of it, and revenge himself." + +In came the clerk. "I don't see a sign of any one about," he said; "and +I'm sure whoever it was could not have had time to get away. You must +have been mistaken, Mrs. Jones." + +"Mistaken in what, pray?" + +"That any man was there. You got confused, and fancied it, perhaps. As to +Pike, he'd never dare come on my premises, whether by night or day. What +were you doing at the window?" + +"Listening," defiantly replied Mrs. Jones. "And now I'll just tell out +what I've had in my head this long while, Mr. Gum, and know the reason of +Nancy's slighting me in the way she does. What secret has she and Mary +Mirrable got between them?" + +"Secret?" repeated the clerk, whilst his wife gave a faint cry, and +Mirrable turned her calm face on Mrs. Jones. "Have they a secret?" + +"Yes, they have," raved Mrs. Jones, giving vent to her long pent-up +emotion. "If they haven't, I'm blind and deaf. If I have come into your +house once during the past year and found Mrs. Mirrable in it, and the +two sitting and whispering, I've come ten times. This evening I came in +at dusk; I turned the handle of the door and peeped into the best +parlour, and there they were, nose and knees together, starting away +from each other as soon as they saw me, Nance giving one of her faint +cries, and the two making believe to have been talking of the weather. +It's always so. And I want to know what secret they have got hold of, and +whether I'm poison, that I can't be trusted with it." + +Jabez Gum slowly turned his eyes on the two in question. His wife lifted +her hands in deprecation at the idea that she should have a secret: +Mirrable was laughing. + +"Nancy's secret to-night, when you interrupted us, was telling me of a +dream she had regarding Lord Hartledon, and of how she mistook Mr. Elster +for him the morning he came down," cried the latter. "And if you have +really been listening at the shutters since you went out, Mrs. Jones, you +should by this time know how to pickle walnuts in the new way: for I +declare that is all our conversation has been about since. You always +were suspicious, you know, and you always will be." + +"Look here, Mrs. Jones," said the clerk, decisively; "I don't choose to +have my shutters listened at: it might give the house a bad name, for +quarrelling, or something of that sort. So I'll trouble you not to repeat +what you have done to-night, or I shall forbid your coming here. A +secret, indeed!" + +"Yes, a secret!" persisted Mrs. Jones. "And if I don't come at what it is +one of these days, my name's not Lydia Jones. And I'll tell you why. It +strikes me--I may be wrong--but it strikes me it concerns me and my +husband and my household, which some folks are ever ready to interfere +with. I'll take myself off now; and I would recommend you, as a parting +warning, to denounce Pike to the police for an attempt at housebreaking, +before you're both murdered in your bed. That'll be the end on't." + +She went away, and Clerk Gum wished he could denounce _her_ to the +police. Mirrable laughed again; and Mrs. Gum, cowardly and timid, fell +back in her chair as one seized with ague. + +Beyond giving an occasional dole to Mrs. Jones for her children--and +to tell the truth, she clothed them all, or they would have gone in +rags--Mirrable had shaken her cousin off long ago: which of course did +not tend to soothe the naturally jealous spirit of Mrs. Jones. At +Hartledon House she was not welcomed, and could not go there; but she +watched for the visits of Mirrable at the clerk's, and was certain to +intrude on those occasions. + +"I'll find it out!" she repeated to herself, as she went storming through +the garden-gate; "I'll find it out. And as to that poacher, he'd better +bring his black face near mine again!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE WAGER BOATS. + + +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 so; but when only a boat's +length from the winning-post another shot past him, and won by half a +length. It was the young Oxonian, Mr. Shute--though indeed it does not +much matter who it was, save that it was not Lord Hartledon. + +"Strike your colours, ladies, you that sport the crimson and purple!" +called out a laughing voice from one of the skiffs. "Oxford blue wins." + +Lord Hartledon arrived last. He did not get up for some minutes after the +rest were in. In short, he was distanced. + +"Hart has hurt his arm as well as his foot," observed one of the others, +as he came alongside. "That's why he got distanced." + +"No, it was not," dissented Lord Hartledon, looking up from his skiff at +the crowd of fair faces bent down upon him. "My arm is all right; it only +gave me a few twinges when I first started. My oar fouled, and I could +not get right again; so, finding I had lost too much ground, I gave up +the contest. Anne, had I known I should disgrace my colours, I would not +have given them to _you_." + +"Miss Ashton loses, and Maude wins!" cried the countess-dowager, +executing a little dance of triumph. "Maude is the only one who wears +the Oxford blue." + +It was true. The young Oxonian was a retiring and timid man, and none had +voluntarily assumed his colours. But no one heeded the countess-dowager. + +"You are like a child, Hartledon, denying that your arm's damaged!" +exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I know it is: I could see it by the way you +struck your oar all along." + +What feeling is it in man that prompts him to disclaim physical +pain?--make light of personal injury? Lord Hartledon's ankle was +swelling, at the bottom of the boat; and without the slightest doubt +his arm _was_ paining him, although perhaps at the moment not very +considerably. But he maintained his own assertions, and protested his +arm was as sound as the best arm present. "I could go over the work again +with pleasure," cried he. + +"Nonsense, Hart! You could not." + +"And I _will_ go over it," he added, warming with the opposition. "Who'll +try his strength with me? There's plenty of time before dinner." + +"I will," eagerly spoke young Carteret, who had been, as was remarked, +one of those on land, and was wild to be handling the oars. "If Dawkes +will let me have his skiff, I'll bet you ten to five you are distanced +again, Hartledon." + +Perhaps Lord Hartledon had not thought his challenge would be taken +seriously. But when he saw the eager, joyous look of the boy Carteret--he +was not yet nineteen--the flushed pleasure of the beardless face, he +would not have retracted it for the world. He was just as good-natured +as Percival Elster. + +"Dawkes will let you have his skiff, Carteret." + +Captain Dawkes was exceedingly glad to be rid of it. Good boatman though +he was, he rarely cared to spend his strength superfluously, when nothing +was to be gained by it, and had no fancy to row his skiff back to its +moorings, as most of the others were already doing with theirs. He leaped +out. + +"Any one but you, Hartledon, would be glad to come out of that +tilting thing, and enjoy a rest, and get your face cool," cried the +countess-dowager. + +"I dare say they might, ma'am. I'm afraid I am given to obstinacy; always +was. Be quick, Carteret." + +Mr. Carteret was hastily stripping himself of his coat, and any odds and +ends of attire he deemed superfluous. "One moment, Hartledon; only one +moment," came the joyous response. + +"And you'll come home with your arm and your ankle like your colours, +Hartledon--crimson and purple," screamed the dowager. "And you'll be laid +up, and go on perhaps to locked jaw; and then you'll expect me to nurse +you!" + +"I shall expect nothing of the sort, ma'am, I pledge you my word; I'll +nurse myself. All ready, Carteret?" + +"All ready. Same point as before, Hart?" + +"Same point: round the boat and home again." + +"And it's ten sovs. to five, Hart?" + +"All right. You'll lose, Carteret." + +Carteret laughed. He saw the five sovereigns as surely in his possession +as he saw the sculls in his hands. There was no trouble with the start +this time, and they were off at once. + +Lord Hartledon took the lead. He was spurring his strength to the +uttermost: perhaps out of bravado; that he might show them nothing was +the matter with his arm. But Mr. Carteret gained on him; and as they +turned the point and went out of sight, the young man's boat was the +foremost. + +The race had been kept--as the sporting men amongst them styled it--dark. +Not an inkling of it had been suffered to get abroad, or, as Lord +Hartledon had observed, they should have the banks swarming. The +consequence was, that not more than half-a-dozen curious idlers had +assembled: those were on the opposite side, and had now gone down with +the boats to Calne. No spectators, either on the river or the shore, +attended this lesser contest: Lord Hartledon and Mr. Carteret had it all +to themselves. + +And meanwhile, during the time Lord Hartledon had remained at rest in his +skiff under the winning flag, Percival Elster never addressed one word to +him. There he stood, on the edge of the bank; but not a syllable spoke +he, good, bad, or indifferent. + +Miss Ashton was looking for her brother, and might just as well have +looked for a needle in a bottle of hay. Arthur was off somewhere. + +"You need not go home yet, Anne," said Val. + +"I must. I have to dress for dinner. It is all to be very smart to-night, +you know," she said, with a merry laugh. + +"With Shute in the post of honour. Who'd have thought that awkward, quiet +fellow would win? I will see you home, Anne, if you must go." + +Miss Ashton coloured vividly with embarrassment. In the present state of +affairs, she did not know whether that might be permitted: poor Val was +out of favour at the Rectory. He detected the feeling, and it tended to +vex him more and more. + +"Nonsense, Anne! The veto has not yet been interposed, and they can't +kill you for allowing my escort. Stay here if you like: if you go, I +shall see you home." + +It was quite imperative that she should go, for dinner at Hartledon was +that evening fixed for seven o'clock, and there would be little enough +time to dress and return again. They set out, walking side by side. Anne +told him of what Lord Hartledon had said to her that day; and Val +coloured with shame at the sullenness he had displayed, and his heart +went into a glow of repentance. Had he met his brother then, he had +clasped his hand, and poured forth his contrition. + +He met some one else instead, almost immediately. It was Dr. Ashton, +coming for Anne. Percival was not wanted now: was not invited to continue +his escort. A cold, civil word or two passed, and Val struck across the +grove into the high-road, and returned to Hartledon. + +He was about to turn in at the lodge-gates with his usual greeting to +Mrs. Capper when his attention was caught by a figure coming down the +avenue. A man in a long coat, his face ornamented with red whiskers. It +required no second glance for recognition. Whiskers and coat proclaimed +their owner at once; and if ever Val Elster's heart leaped into his +mouth, it certainly leaped then. + +He went on, instead of turning in; quietly, as if he were only a stranger +enjoying an evening stroll up the road; but the moment he was past the +gates he set off at breakneck speed, not heeding where. That the man was +there to arrest him, he felt as sure as he had ever felt of anything in +this world; and in his perplexity he began accusing every one of +treachery, Lord Hartledon and Pike in particular. + +The river at the back in this part took a sweeping curve, the road kept +straight; so that to arrive at a given point, the one would be more +quickly traversed than the other. On and on went Val Elster; and as soon +as an opening allowed, he struck into the brushwood on the right, +intending to make his way back by the river to Hartledon. + +But not yet. Not until the shades of night should fall on the earth: +he would have a better chance of getting away from that shark in the +darkness than by daylight. He propped his back against a tree and waited, +hating himself all the time for his cowardice. With all his scrapes and +dilemmas, he had never been reduced to this sort of hiding. + +And his pursuer had struck into the wood after him, passed straight +through it, though with some little doubt and difficulty, and was already +by the river-side, getting there just as Lord Hartledon was passing in +his skiff. Long as this may have seemed in telling, it took only a short +time to accomplish; still Lord Hartledon had not made quick way, or he +would have been further on his course in the race. + +Would the sun ever set?--daylight ever pass? Val thought _not_, in his +impatience; and he ventured out of his shelter very soon, and saw for his +reward--the long coat and red whiskers by the river-side, their owner +conversing with a man. Val went further away, keeping the direction of +the stream: the brushwood might no longer be safe. He did not think they +had seen him: the man he dreaded had his back to him, the other his face. +And that other was Pike. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +WAITING FOR DINNER. + + +Dinner at Hartledon had been ordered for seven o'clock. It was beyond +that hour when Dr. Ashton arrived, for he had been detained--a +clergyman's time is not always under his own control. Anne and Arthur +were with him, but not Mrs. Ashton. He came in, ready with an apology for +his tardiness, but found he need not offer it; neither Lord Hartledon nor +his brother having yet appeared. + +"Hartledon and that boy Carteret have not returned home yet," said the +countess-dowager, in her fiercest tones, for she liked her dinner more +than any other earthly thing, and could not brook being kept waiting for +it. "And when they do come, they'll keep us another half-hour dressing." + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon--they have come," interposed Captain +Dawkes. "Carteret was going into his room as I came out of mine." + +"Time they were," grumbled the dowager. "They were not in five minutes +ago, for I sent to ask." + +"Which of the two won the race?" inquired Lady Maude of Captain Dawkes. + +"I don't think Carteret did," he replied, laughing. "He seemed as sulky +as a bear, and growled out that there had been no race, for Hartledon had +played him a trick." + +"What did he mean?" + +"Goodness knows." + +"I hope Hartledon upset him," charitably interrupted the dowager. "A +ducking would do that boy good; he is too forward by half." + +There was more waiting. The countess-dowager flounced about in her pink +satin gown; but it did not bring the loiterers any the sooner. Lady +Maude--perverse still, but beautiful--talked in whispers to the hero of +the day, Mr. Shute; wearing a blue-silk robe and a blue wreath in her +hair. Anne, adhering to the colours of Lord Hartledon, though he had been +defeated, was in a rich, glistening white silk, with natural flowers, red +and purple, on its body, and the same in her hair. Her sweet face was +sunny again, her eyes were sparkling: a word dropped by Dr. Ashton had +given her a hope that, perhaps, Percival Elster might be forgiven +sometime. + +He was the first of the culprits to make his appearance. The dowager +attacked him of course. What did he mean by keeping dinner waiting? + +Val replied that he was late in coming home; he had been out. As to +keeping dinner waiting, it seemed that Lord Hartledon was doing that: +he didn't suppose they'd have waited for him. + +He spoke tartly, as if not on good terms with himself or the world. Anne +Ashton, near to whom he had drawn, looked up at him with a charming +smile. + +"Things may brighten, Percival," she softly breathed. + +"It's to be hoped they will," gloomily returned Val. "They look dark +enough just now." + +"What have you done to your face?" she whispered. + +"To my face? Nothing that I know of." + +"The forehead is red, as if it had been bruised, or slightly grazed." + +Val put his hand up to his forehead. "I did feel something when I washed +just now," he remarked slowly, as though doubting whether anything was +wrong or not. "It must have been done--when I--struck against that tree," +he added, apparently taxing his recollection. + +"How was that?" + +"I was running in the dusk, and did not notice the branch of a tree in my +way. It's nothing, Anne, and will soon go off." + +Mr. Carteret came in, looking just as Val Elster had done--out of sorts. +Questions were showered upon him as to the fate of the race; but the +dowager's voice was heard above all. + +"This is a pretty time to make your appearance, sir! Where's Lord +Hartledon?" + +"In his room, I suppose. Hartledon never came," he added in sulky tones, +as he turned from her to the rest. "I rowed on, and on, thinking how +nicely I was distancing him, and got down, the mischief knows where. +Miles, nearly, I must have gone." + +"But why did you pass the turning-point?" asked one. + +"There was no turning-point," returned Mr. Carteret; "some confounded +meddler must have unmoored the boat as soon as the first race was over, +and I, like an idiot, rowed on, looking for it. All at once it came into +my mind what a way I must have gone, and I turned and waited. And might +have waited till now," he added, "for Hart never came." + +"Then his arm must have failed him," exclaimed Captain Dawkes. "I thought +it was all wrong." + +"It wasn't right, for I soon shot past him," returned young Carteret. +"But Hart knew the spot where the boat ought to have been, though I +didn't; what he did, I suppose, was to clear round it just as though it +had been there, and come in home again. It will be an awful shame if he +takes an unfair advantage of it, and claims the race." + +"Hartledon never took an unfair advantage in his life," spoke up Val +Elster, in clear, decisive tones. "You need not be afraid, Carteret. +I dare say his arm failed him." + +"Well, he might have hallooed when he found it failing, and not have +suffered me to row all that way for nothing," retorted young Carteret. +"Not a trace could I see of him as I came back; he had hastened home, +I expect, to shut himself up in his room with his damaged arm and foot." + +"I'll see what he's doing there," said Val. + +He went out; but returned immediately. + +"We are all under a mistake," was his greeting. "Hartledon has not +returned yet. His servant is in his room waiting for him." + +"Then what do you mean by telling stories?" demanded the +countess-dowager, turning sharply on Mr. Carteret. + +"Good Heavens, ma'am! you need not begin upon me!" returned young +Carteret. "I have told no stories. I said Hart let me go on, and never +came on himself; if that's a story, I'll swallow Dawkes's skiff and the +sculls too." + +"You said he was in his room. You know you did." + +"I said I supposed so. It's usual for a man to go there, I believe, to +get ready for dinner," added young Carteret, always ripe for a wordy war, +in his antipathy to the countess-dowager. + +"_You_ said he had come in;" and the angry woman faced round on Captain +Dawkes. "You saw them going into their rooms, you said. Which was it--you +did, or you didn't?" + +"I did see Carteret make his appearance; and assumed that Lord Hartledon +had gone on to his room," replied the captain, suppressing a laugh. "I am +sorry to have misled your ladyship. I dare say Hart was about the house +somewhere." + +"Then why doesn't he appear?" stormed the dowager. "Pretty behaviour +this, to keep us all waiting dinner. I shall tell him so. Val Elster, +ring for Hedges." + +Val rang the bell. "Has Lord Hartledon come in?" he asked, when the +butler appeared. + +"No, sir." + +"And dinner's spoiling, isn't it, Hedges?" broke in the dowager. + +"It won't be any the better for waiting, my lady." + +"No. I must exercise my privilege and order it served. At once, Hedges, +do you hear? If Hartledon grumbles, I shall tell him it serves him +right." + +"But where can Hartledon be?" cried Captain Dawkes. + +"That's what I am wondering," said Val. "He can't be on the river all +this time; Carteret would have seen him in coming home." + +A strangely grave shade, looking almost like a prevision of evil, arose +to Dr. Ashton's face. "I trust nothing has happened to him," he +exclaimed. "Where did you part company with him, Mr. Carteret?" + +"That's more than I can tell you, sir. You must have seen--at least--no, +you were not there; but those looking on must have seen me get ahead of +him within view of the starting-point; soon after that I lost sight of +him. The river winds, you know; and of course I thought he was coming on +behind me. Very daft of me, not to divine that the boat had been +removed!" + +"Do you think he passed the mill?" + +"The mill?" + +"That place where the river forms what might almost be called a miniature +harbour. A mill is built there which the stream serves. You could not +fail to see it." + +"I remember now. Yes, I saw the mill. What of it?" + +"Did Lord Hartledon pass it?" + +"How should I know!" cried the boy. "I had lost sight of him ages before +that." + +"The current is extremely rapid there," observed Dr. Ashton. "If he found +his arm failing, he might strike down to the mill and land there; and his +ankle may be keeping him a prisoner." + +"And that's what it is!" exclaimed Val. + +They were crossing the hall to the dining-room. Without the slightest +ceremony, the countess-dowager pushed herself foremost and advanced to +the head of the table. + +"I shall occupy this seat in my nephew's absence," said she. "Dr. Ashton, +will you be so good as to take the foot? There's no one else." + +"Nay, madam; though Lord Hartledon may not be here, Mr. Elster is." + +She had actually forgotten Val; and would have liked to ignore him now +that he was recalled to remembrance; but that might not be. As much +contempt as could be expressed in her face was there, as she turned her +snub nose and small round eyes defiantly upon that unoffending younger +brother. + +"I was going to request you to take it, sir," said Percival, in low +tones, to Dr. Ashton. "I shall go off in the pony-carriage for Edward. +He must think we are neglecting him." + +"Very well. I hate these rowing matches," heartily added the Rector. + +"What a curious old fish that parson must be!" ejaculated young Carteret +to his next neighbour. "He says he doesn't like boating." + +It happened to be Arthur Ashton, and the lad's brow lowered. "You are +speaking of my father," he said. "But I'll tell you why he does not like +it. He had a brother once, a good deal older than himself; they had no +father, and Arthur--that was the elder--was very fond of him: there were +only those two. He took him out in a boat one day, and there was an +accident: the eldest was drowned, the little one saved. Do you wonder +that my father has dreaded boating ever since? He seems to have the same +sort of dread of it that a child who has been frightened by its nurse has +of the dark." + +"By Jove! that was a go, though!" was the sympathising comment of Mr. +Carteret. + +The doctor said grace, and dinner proceeded. It was not half over when +Mr. Elster came in, in his light overcoat. Walking straight up to the +table, he stood by it, his face wearing a blank, perplexed look. A +momentary silence of expectation, and then many tongues spoke together. + +"Where's your brother? Where's Lord Hartledon? Has he not come?" + +"I don't know where he is," answered Val. "I was in hopes he had reached +home before me, but I find he has not. I can't make it out at all." + +"Did he land at the mill?" asked Dr. Ashton. + +"Yes, he must have done so, for the skiff is moored there." + +"Then he's all right," cried the doctor; and there was a strangely-marked +sound of relief in his tones. + +"Oh, he is all right," confidently asserted Percival. "The only question +is, where he can be. The miller was out this afternoon, and left his +place locked up; so that Hartledon could not get in, and had nothing for +it but to start home with his lameness, or sit down on the bank until +some one found him." + +"He must have set off to walk." + +"I should think so. But where has he walked to?" added Val. "I drove +slowly home, looking on either side of the road, but could see nothing of +him." + +"What should bring him on the side of the road?" demanded the dowager. +"Do you think he would turn tramp, and take his seat on a heap of stones? +Where do you get your ideas from?" + +"From common sense, ma'am. If he set out to walk, and his foot failed him +half-way, there'd be nothing for it but to sit down and wait. But he is +_not_ on the road: that is the curious part of the business." + +"Would he come the other way?" + +"Hardly. It is so much further by the river than by the road." + +"You may depend upon it that is what he has done," said Dr. Ashton. "He +might think he should meet some of you that way, and get an arm to help +him." + +"I declare I never thought of that," exclaimed Val, his face brightening. +"There he is, no doubt; perched somewhere between this and the mill, like +patience on a monument, unable to put foot to the ground." + +He turned away. Some of the men offered to accompany him: but he declined +their help, and begged them to go on with their dinner, saying he would +take sufficient servants with him, even though they had to carry +Hartledon. + +So Mr. Elster went, taking servants and lanterns; for in some parts of +this road the trees overhung, and rendered it dark. But they could not +find Lord Hartledon. They searched, and shouted, and waved their +lanterns: all in vain. Very much perplexed indeed did Val Elster look +when he got back again. + +"Where in the world can he have gone to?" angrily questioned the +countess-dowager; and she glared from her seat at the head of the table +on the offender Val, as she asked it. "I must say all this is most +unseemly, and Hartledon ought to be brought to his senses for causing it. +I suppose he has taken himself off to a surgeon's." + +It was possible, but unlikely, as none knew better than Val Elster. To +get to the surgeon's he would have to pass his own house, and would be +more likely to go in, and send for Mr. Hillary, than walk on with a +disabled foot. Besides, if he had gone to the surgeon's, he would not +stay there all this time. "I don't know what to do," said Percival +Elster; and there was the same blank, perplexed look on his face that was +observed the first time he came in. "I don't much like the appearance of +things." + +"Why, you don't think anything's wrong with him!" exclaimed young +Carteret, starting-up with an alarmed face. "He's safe to turn up, isn't +he?" + +"Of course he will turn up," answered Val, in a dreamy tone. "Only this +uncertainty, as to where to look for him, is not pleasant." + +Dr. Ashton motioned Val to his side. "Are you fearing an accident?" he +asked in low tones. + +"No, sir." + +"I am. That current by the mill is so fearfully strong; and if your +brother had not the use of his one arm--and the boat was drawn onwards, +beyond his control--and upset--" + +Dr. Ashton paused. Val Elster looked rather surprised. + +"How could it upset, sir? The skiffs are as safe as this floor. I don't +fear that in the least: what I do fear is that Edward may be in some +out-of-the-way nook, insensible from pain, and won't be found until +daylight. Fancy, a whole night out of doors, in that state! He might be +half-dead with cold by the morning." + +Dr. Ashton shook his head in dissent. His dislike of boating seemed just +now to be rising into horror. + +"What are you going to do now, Elster?" inquired Captain Dawkes. + +"Go to the mill again, I think, and find out if any one saw Hartledon +leave the skiff, and which way he took. One of the servants can run down +to Hillary's the while." + +Dr. Ashton rose, bowing for permission to Lady Kirton; and the gentlemen +with one accord rose with him, the same purpose in the mind of all--that +of more effectually scouring the ground between the mill and Hartledon. +The countess-dowager felt that she should like to box the ears of every +one of them. The idea of danger in connection with Lord Hartledon had +not yet penetrated to her brain. + +At this moment, before they had left the room, there arose a strange wild +sound from without--almost an unearthly sound--that seemed to come from +several voices, and to be bearing round the house from the river-path. +Mrs. O'Moore put down her knife and fork, and rose up with a startled +cry. + +"There's nothing to be alarmed at," said the dowager. "It is those Irish +harvesters. I know their horrid voices, and dare say they are riotously +drunk. Hartledon ought to put them in prison for it." + +The sounds died away into silence. Mrs. O'Moore took her hands from her +eyes, where they had been pressed. "Don't you know what it is, Lady +Kirton? It is the Irish death-wail!" + +It rose again, louder than before, for those from whom it came were +nearing the house--a horribly wailing sound, ringing out in the silence +of the night. Mrs. O'Moore crouched into her chair again, and hid her +terrified face. She was not Irish, and had never heard that sound but +once, and that was when her child died. + +"She is right," cried her husband, the O'Moore; "that is the death-wail. +Hark! it is for a chieftain; they mourn the loss of one high in the land. +And--they are coming here! Oh, Elster! can DEATH have overtaken your +brother?" + +The gentlemen had stood spell-bound, listening to the sound, their faces +a mixture of surprise and credulity. At the words they rushed out with +one accord, and the women stole after them with trembling steps and +blanched lips. + +"If ever I saw such behaviour in all my existence!" irascibly spoke the +countess-dowager, who was left alone in her glory. "The death-wail, +indeed! The woman's a fool. I'll get those Irishmen transported, if +I can." + +In the hall the servants were gathered, cowering almost as the ladies +did. Their master had flown down the hall-steps, and the labourers were +coming steadily up to it, bearing something in procession. Dr. Ashton +came back as quickly as he had gone out, extending his arms before him. + +"Ladies, I pray you go in," he urged, in strange agitation. "You must not +meet these--these Irishmen. Go back to the dining-room, I entreat you, +and remain in it." + +But the curiosity of women--who can suppress it? They were as though they +heard not, and were pressing on to the door, when Val Elster dashed in +with a white face. + +"Back, all of you! You must not stay here. This is no place or sight for +you. Anne," he added, seizing Miss Ashton's hand in peremptory entreaty, +"you at least know how to be calm. Get them away, and keep them out of +the hall." + +"Tell me the worst," she implored. "I will indeed try to be calm. Who is +it those men are bringing here?" + +"My dear brother--my dead brother. Madam," he continued to the +countess-dowager, who had now come out, dinner-napkin in hand, her curls +all awry, "you must not come here. Go back to the dining-room, all of +you." + +"Not come here! Go back to the dining-room!" echoed the outraged dowager. +"Don't take quite so much upon yourself, Val Elster. The house is Lord +Hartledon's, and I am a free agent in it." + +A shriek--an agonized shriek--broke from Lady Maude. In her suspense she +had stolen out unperceived, and lifted the covering of the rude bier, now +resting on the steps. The rays of the hall-lamp fell on the face, and +Maude, in her anguish, with a succession of hysterical sobs, came +shivering back to sink down at her mother's feet. + +"Oh, my love--my love! Dead! dead!" + +The only one who heard the words was Anne Ashton. The countess-dowager +caught the last. + +"Who is dead? What is this mystery?" she asked, unceremoniously lifting +her satin dress, with the intention of going out to see, and her head +began to nod--perhaps with apprehension--as if she had the palsy. "You +want to force us away. No, thank you; not until I've come to the bottom +of this." + +"Let us tell them," cried young Carteret, in his boyish impulse, "and +then perhaps they will go. An accident has happened to Lord Hartledon, +ma'am, and these men have brought him home." + +"He--_he's_ not dead?" asked the old woman, in changed tones. + +Alas! poor Lord Hartledon was indeed dead. The Irish labourers, in +passing near the mill, had detected the body in the water; rescued it, +and brought it home. + +The countess-dowager's grief commenced rather turbulently. She talked and +shrieked, and danced round, exactly as if she had been a wild Indian. It +was so intensely ludicrous, that the occupants of the hall gazed in +silence. + +"Here to-day, and gone to-morrow!" she sobbed. "Oh--o--o--o--o--o--oh!" + +"Nay," cried young Carteret, "here to-day, and gone _now_. Poor fellow! +it is awful." + +"And you have done it!" she cried, turning her grief upon the astonished +boy. "You! What business had you to allure him off again in that +miserable boat, once he had got home?" + +"Don't trample me down, please," he indignantly returned; "I am as cut up +as you can be. Hedges, hadn't you better get Lady Kirton's maid here? I +think she is going mad." + +"And now the house is without a master," she bemoaned, returning to her +own griefs and troubles, "and I have all the arrangements thrown upon +myself." + +"The house is not without a master," said young Carteret, who seemed +inclined to have the last word. "If one master has gone from it, poor +fellow! there's another to replace him; and he is at your elbow now." + +He at her elbow was Val Elster. Lady Kirton gathered in the sense of the +words, and gave a cry; a prolonged cry of absolute dismay. + +"_He_ can't be its master." + +"I should say he _is_, ma'am. At any rate he is now Lord Hartledon." + +She looked from one to the other in helpless doubt. It was a contingency +that had never so much as occurred to her. Had she wanted confirmation, +the next moment brought it to her from the lips of the butler. + +"Hedges," called out Percival sternly, in his embarrassment and grief, +"open the dining-room door. We _must_ get the hall cleared." + +"The door is open, my lord." + +"_He_ Lord Hartledon!" shrieked the countess-dowager, "why, I was going +to recommend his brother to ship him off to Canada for life." + +It was altogether an unseemly scene at such a time. But almost everything +the Countess-Dowager of Kirton did was unseemly. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MR. PIKE'S VISIT. + + +Percival Elster was in truth Earl of Hartledon. By one of those +unexpected calamities, which are often inexplicable--and which most +certainly was so as yet in the present instance--a promising young life +had been snapped asunder, and another reigned in his place. In one short +hour Val Elster, who had scarcely cross or coin to call his own, had been +going in danger of arrest from one moment to another, had become a peer +of the realm and a man of wealth. + +As they laid the body down in a small room opening from the hall, and his +late companions and guests crowded around in awe-struck silence, there +was one amidst them who could not control his grief and emotion. It was +poor Val. Pushing aside the others, never heeding them in his bitter +sorrow, he burst into passionate sobs as he leaned over the corpse. And +none of them thought the worse of Val for it. + +"Oh, Percival! how did it happen?" + +The speaker was Dr. Ashton. Little less affected himself, he clasped the +young man's hand in token of heartfelt sympathy. + +"I cannot think _how_ it could have happened," replied Percival, when +able to control his feelings sufficiently to speak. "It seems awfully +strange to me--mysteriously so." + +"If he found himself going wrong, why didn't he shout out?" asked young +Carteret, with a rueful face. "I couldn't have helped hearing him." + +It was a question that was passing through the minds of all; was being +whispered about. How could it have happened? The body presented the usual +appearance of death from drowning; but close to the left temple was a +wound, and the face was otherwise disfigured. It must have been done, +they thought, by coming into contact with something or other in the +water; perhaps the skiff itself. Arm and ankle were both much swollen. + +Nothing was certainly known as yet of Lord Hartledon from the time Mr. +Carteret parted company with him, to the time when the body was found. It +appeared that these Irish labourers were going home from their work, +singing as they went, their road lying past the mill, when they were +spoken to by the miller's boy. He stood on the species of estrade which +the miller had placed there for his own convenience, bending down as far +as his young head and shoulders could reach, and peering into the water +attentively. "I think I see some'at in the stream," quoth he, and the men +stopped; and after a short time, proceeded to search. It proved to be the +dead body of Lord Hartledon, caught amongst the reeds. + +It was rather a curious coincidence that Percival Elster and his servants +in the last search should have heard the voices of the labourers singing +in the distance. But they were too far off on their return to Hartledon +to be within hearing when the men found the body. + +The news spread; people came up from far and near, and Hartledon was +besieged. Mr. Hillary, the surgeon, gave it as his opinion that the wound +on the temple, no doubt caused before death, had rendered Lord Hartledon +insensible, and unable to extricate himself from the water. The mill and +cottage were built on what might be called an arm of the river. Lord +Hartledon had no business there at all; but the current was very strong; +and if, as was too probable, he had become almost disabled, he might have +drifted to it without being able to help himself; or he might have been +making for it, intending to land and rest in the cottage until help could +be summoned to convey him home. How he got into the water was not known. +Once in the water, the blow was easy enough to receive; he might have +struck against the estrade. + +There is almost sure to be some miserable coincidence in these cases to +render them doubly unfortunate. For three weeks past, as the miller +testified--a respectable man named Floyd--his mill had not been deserted; +some one, man, boy, or woman, had always been there. On this afternoon it +was closed, mill and cottage too, and all were away. What might have been +simply a slight accident, had help been at hand, had terminated in an +awful death for the want of it. + +It was eleven o'clock before anything like order was restored at +Hartledon, and the house left in quiet. The last person to quit it was +Dr. Ashton. Hedges, the butler, had been showing him out, and was +standing for a minute on the steps looking after him, and perhaps to +cool, with a little fresh air, his perplexed brow--for the man was a +faithful retainer, and the affair had shocked him in no common +degree--when he was accosted by Pike, who emerged stealthily from behind +one of the outer pillars, where he seemed to have been sheltering. + +"Why, what have you been doing there?" exclaimed the butler. + +"Mr. Hedges, I've been waiting here--hiding, if you like to call it so," +was the answer; and it should be observed that the man's manner, quite +unlike his usual rough, devil-may-care tone, was characterized by +singular respect and earnestness. To hear him, and not see him, you might +think you were listening to some staid and respectable friend of the +family. "I have been standing there this hour past, keeping behind the +pillar while other folk went in and out, and waiting my time to speak to +you." + +"To me?" repeated Hedges. + +"Yes, sir. I want you to grant me a favour; and I hope you'll pardon my +boldness in asking it." + +Hedges did not know what to make of this. It was the first time he +had enjoyed the honour of a personal interview with Mr. Pike; and the +contrast between that gentleman's popular reputation and his present tone +and manner struck the butler as exceedingly singular. But that the butler +was in a very softened mood, feeling full of subdued charity towards all +the world, he might not have condescended to parley with the man. + +"What is the favour?" he inquired. + +"I want you to let me in to see the poor young earl--what's left of him." + +"Let you in to see the earl!" echoed Hedges in surprise. "I never heard +such a bold request." + +"It is bold. I've already said so, and asked you to pardon it." + +"What can you want that for? It can't be for nothing but curiosity; +and--" + +"It's not curiosity," interrupted Pike, with an emphasis that told upon +his hearer. "I have a different motive, sir; and a good motive. If I were +at liberty to tell it--which I'm not--you'd let me in without another +word. Lots of people have been seeing him, I suppose." + +"Indeed they have not. Why should they? It is a bold thing for _you_ to +come and ask it." + +"Did he come by his death fairly?" whispered the man. + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed the butler, stepping back aghast. "I don't +think you know what you are talking about. Who would harm Lord +Hartledon?" + +"Let me see him," implored the man. "It can't hurt him or anybody else. +Only just for a minute, sir, in your presence. And if it's ever in my +power to do you a good turn, Mr. Hedges, I'll do it. It doesn't seem +likely now; but the mouse gnawed the lion's net, you know, and set him +free." + +Whether it was the strange impressiveness with which the request was +proffered, or that the softened mood of Hedges rendered him incapable of +contention, certain it was that he granted it; and most likely would +wonder at himself for it all his after-life. Crossing the hall with +silent tread, and taking up a candle as he went, he led the way to the +room; Mr. Pike stepping after him with a tread equally silent. + +"Take your hat off," peremptorily whispered the butler; for that worthy +had entered the room with it on. "Is that the way to--" + +"Hedges!" + +Hedges was struck with consternation at the call, for it was that of his +new master. He had not bargained for this; supposing that he had gone to +his room for the night. However he might have been foolishly won over to +accede to the man's strange request, it was not to be supposed it would +be approved of by Lord Hartledon. The butler hesitated. He did not care +to betray Pike, neither did he care to leave Pike alone. + +"Hedges!" came the call again, louder and quicker. + +"Yes, sir--my lord?" and Hedges squeezed out at the door without opening +it much--which was rather a difficulty, for he was a portly man, with a +red, honest sort of face--leaving Pike and the light inside. Lord +Hartledon--as we must unfortunately call him now--was standing in the +hall. + +"Has Dr. Ashton gone?" + +"Yes, my lord." + +"Did he leave that address?" + +Hedges knew to what his master alluded: an address that was wanted in +connection with certain official proceedings that must now take place. +Hedges replied that Dr. Ashton had not left it with him. + +"Then he must have forgotten it. He said he would write it down in +pencil. Send over to the Rectory the first thing in the morning. And, +Hedges--" + +At this moment a slight noise was heard within the room like the sound of +an extinguisher falling; as, in fact, it was. Lord Hartledon turned +towards it. + +"Who is there, Hedges?" + +"I--it's no one in particular, sir--my lord." + +What with the butler's bewilderment on the sudden change of masters, and +what with his consciousness of the presence of his visitor, he was +unusually confused. Lord Hartledon noticed it. It instantly occurred to +him that one of the ladies, or perhaps one of the women-servants, had +been admitted to the room; and he did not consider it a proper sight for +any of them. + +"Who is it?" he demanded, somewhat peremptorily. + +So Hedges had to confess what had taken place, and that he had allowed +the man to enter. + +"Pike! Why, what can he want?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon in surprise. And +he turned to the room. + +The moment the butler left him alone Mr. Pike's first proceeding had been +to cover his head again with his wide-awake, which he had evidently +removed with reluctance, and might have refused to remove at all had it +been consistent with policy; his second was to snatch up the candle, bend +over the dead face, and examine it minutely both with eye and hand. + +"There _is_ a wound, then, and it's true what they are saying. I thought +it might have been gossip," he muttered, as he pushed the soft dark hair +from the temple. "Any more suspicious marks?" he resumed, taking a rapid +view of the hands and head. "No; nothing but what he'd be likely to get +in the water: but--I'll swear _that_ might have been the blow of a human +hand. 'Twould stun, if it wouldn't kill; and then, held under the +water--" + +At this moment Mr. Pike and his comments were interrupted, and he drew +back from the table on which the body was lying; but not before Lord +Hartledon had seen him touching the face of the dead. + +"What are you doing?" came the stern demand. + +"I wasn't harming him," was the answer; and Mr. Pike seemed to have +suddenly returned to his roughness. "It's a nasty accident to have +happened; and I don't like _this_." + +He pointed to the temple as he spoke. Lord Hartledon's usually +good-natured brow--at present a brow of deep sorrow--contracted +with displeasure. + +"It is an awful accident," he replied. "But I asked what you were doing +here?" + +"I thought I'd like to look upon him, sir; and the butler let me in. I +wish I'd been a bit nearer the place at the time: I'd have saved him, or +got drowned myself. Not much fear of that, though. I'm a rat for the +water. Was that done fairly?" pointing again to the temple. + +"What do you mean?" exclaimed Val. + +"Well--it might be, or it might not. One who has led the roving life I +have, and been in all sorts of scenes, bred in the slums of London too, +looks on the suspicious side of these things. And there mostly is one in +all of 'em." + +Val was moved to anger. "How dare you hint at so infamous a suspicion, +Pike? If--" + +"No offence, my lord," interrupted Pike--"and it's my lord that you are +now. Thoughts may be free in this room; but I am not going to spread +suspicion outside. I say, though that _might_ have been an accident, it +might have been done by an enemy." + +"Did you do it?" retorted Lord Hartledon in his displeasure. + +Pike gave a short laugh. + +"I did not. I had no cause to harm him. What I'm thinking was, whether +anybody else had. He was mistaken for another yesterday," continued Pike, +dropping his voice. "Some men in his lordship's place might have showed +fight then: even blows." + +Percival made no immediate rejoinder. He was gazing at Pike just as +fixedly as the latter gazed at him. Did the man wish to insinuate that +the unwelcome visitor had again mistaken the one brother for the other, +and the result had been a struggle between them, ending in this? The idea +rushed into his mind, and a dark flush overspread his face. + +"You have no grounds for thinking that man--you know who I mean--attacked +my brother a second time?" + +"No, I have no grounds for it," shortly answered Pike. + +"He was near to the spot at the time; I saw him there," continued Lord +Hartledon, speaking apparently to himself; whilst the flush, painfully +red and dark, was increasing rather than diminishing. + +"I know you did," returned Pike. + +The tone grated on Lord Hartledon's ear. It implied that the man might +become familiar, if not checked; and, with all his good-natured +affability, he was not one to permit it; besides, his position was +changed, and he could not help feeling that it was. "Necessity makes us +acquainted with strange bedfellows," says the very true proverb; and what +might have been borne yesterday would not be borne to-day. + +"Let me understand you," he said, and there was a stern decision in his +tone and manner that surprised Pike. "Have you any reason whatever to +suspect that man of having injured, or attempted to injure my brother?" + +"_I_'ve not," answered Pike. "I never saw him nearer to the mill +yesterday than he was when he looked at us. I don't think he went nearer. +My lord, if I knew anything against the man, I'd tell it out, and be +glad. I hate the whole tribe. _He_ wouldn't make the mistake again," +added Pike, half-contemptuously. "He knew which was his lordship fast +enough to-day, and which wasn't." + +"Then what did you mean by insinuating that the blow on the temple was +the result of violence?" + +"I didn't say it was: I said it might have been. I don't know a thing, as +connected with this business, against a mortal soul. It's true, my lord." + +"Perhaps, then, you will leave this room," said Lord Hartledon. + +"I'm going. And many thanks to your lordship for not having turned me +from it before, and for letting me have my say. Thanks to _you_, sir," he +added, as he went out of the room and passed Hedges, who was waiting in +the hall. + +Hedges closed the door after him, and turned to receive a reprimand from +his new master. + +"Before you admit such men as that into the most sacred chamber the house +at present contains, you will ask my permission, Hedges." + +Hedges attempted to excuse himself. "He was so very earnest, my lord; he +declared to me he had a good motive in wanting to come in. At these +times, when one's heart is almost broken with a sudden blow, one is apt +to be soft and yielding. What with that feeling upon me, and what with +the fright he gave me--" + +"What fright did he give you?" interrupted Val. + +"Well, my lord, he--he asked me whether his lordship had come fairly by +his death." + +"How dare you repeat the insinuation?" broke forth Lord Hartledon, with +more temper than Hedges had ever seen him display. "The very idea is +absurd; it is wicked; it is unpardonable. My brother had not an enemy in +the world. Take care not to repeat it again. Do you hear?" + +He turned away from the astonished man, went into the room he had called +sacred, and closed the door. Hedges wondered whether the hitherto +sweet-tempered, easy-mannered younger brother had changed his nature +with his inheritance. + +As the days went on, few, if any, further particulars were elicited as to +the cause of accident. That the unfortunate Lord Hartledon had become +partly, if not wholly, disabled, so as to be incapable of managing even +the little skiff, had been drifted by the current towards the mills, and +there upset, was assumed by all to have been the true history of the +case. There appeared no reason to doubt that it was so. The inquest was +held on the Thursday. + +And on that same morning the new Lord Hartledon received a proof of the +kindness of his brother. A letter arrived from Messrs. Kedge and Reck, +addressed to Edward Earl of Hartledon. By it Percival found--there was no +one else to open it now--that his brother had written to them early on +the Tuesday morning, taking the debt upon himself; and they now wrote to +say they accepted his responsibility, and had withdrawn the officer from +Calne. Alas! Val Elster could have dismissed him himself now. + +He sat with bent head and drooping eyelids. None, save himself, knew how +bitter were the feelings within him, or the remorse that was his portion +for having behaved unkindly to his brother within the last few hours of +life. He had rebelled at his state of debt becoming known to Dr. Ashton; +he had feared to lose Anne: it seemed to him now, that he would live +under the doctor's displeasure for ever, would never see Anne again, +could he recall his brother. Oh, these unavailing regrets! Will they rise +up to face us at the Last Day? + +With a suppressed ejaculation that was like a cry of pain, as if he would +throw from him these reflections and could not, Lord Hartledon drew a +sheet of paper before him and wrote a note to the lawyers. He briefly +stated what had taken place; that his brother was dead from an accident, +and he had inherited, and should take speedy measures for the discharge +of any liabilities there might be against him: and he requested, as a +favour, that the letter written to them by his brother might be preserved +and returned to him: he should wish to keep it as the last lines his hand +had traced. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE INQUEST. + + +On this day, Thursday, the inquest was held. Most of the gay crowd +staying at Hartledon had taken flight; Mr. Carteret, and one or two more, +whose testimony might be wished for, remaining. The coroner and jury +assembled in the afternoon, in a large boarded apartment called the +steward's room. Lord Hartledon was present with Dr. Ashton and other +friends: they were naturally anxious to hear the evidence that could be +collected, and gather any light that might be thrown upon the accident. +The doors were not closed to the public, and a crowd, gentle and simple, +pressed in. + +The surgeon spoke to the supposed cause of death--drowning: the miller +spoke to his house and mill having been that afternoon shut up. He and +his wife went over in their spring-cart to Garchester, and left the place +locked up, he said. The coroner asked whether it was his custom to lock +up his place when he went out; he replied that it was, when they went out +together; but that event rarely happened. Upon his return at dusk, he +found the little skiff loose in the stream, and secured it. It was his +servant-boy, David Ripper, who called his attention to it first of all. +He saw nothing of Lord Hartledon, and had not very long secured the skiff +when Mr. Percival Elster came up in the pony-carriage, asking if his +brother was there. He looked at the skiff, and said it was the one his +lordship had been in. Mr. Elster said he supposed his brother was walking +home, and he should drive slowly back and look out for him. Later Mr. +Elster returned: he had several servants with him then and lanterns; they +had come out to look for Lord Hartledon, but could not find him. It was +only just after they had gone away again that the Irish harvest-men came +up and found the body. + +This was the substance of the miller's evidence; it was all he knew: +and the next witness called was the boy David Ripper, popularly styled +in the neighbourhood young Rip, in contradistinction to his father, a +day-labourer. He was an urchin of ten or twelve, with a red, round face; +quite ludicrous from its present expression of terrified consternation. +The coroner sharply inquired what he was frightened at; and the boy burst +into a roar by way of answer. He didn't know nothing, and hadn't seen +nothing, and it wasn't him that drowned his lordship; and he couldn't +tell more if they hanged him for it. + +The miller interposed. The boy was one of the idlest young vagabonds he +had ever had the luck to be troubled with; and he thought it exceedingly +likely he had been off that afternoon and not near the mill at all. He +had ordered him to take two sacks into Calne; but when he reached home he +found the sacks untouched, lying where he had placed them outside. Mr. +Ripper had no doubt been playing truant on his own account. + +"Where did you pass Tuesday afternoon during your master's absence?" +sternly demanded the coroner. "Take your hands from your face and answer +me, boy." + +David Ripper obeyed in the best manner he was capable of, considering his +agitation. "I dun know now where I was," he said. "I was about." + +"About where?" + +Mr. Ripper apparently could not say where. He thought he was "setting his +bird-trap" in the stubble-field; and he see a partridge, and watched +where it scudded to; but he wasn't nigh the mill the whole time. + +"Did you see anything of Lord Hartledon when he was in the skiff?" + +"I never saw him," he sobbed. "I wasn't nigh the mill at all, and never +saw him nor the skiff." + +"What time did you get back to the mill?" asked the coroner. + +He didn't know what time it was; his master and missis had come home. + +This was true, Mr. Floyd said. They had been back some little time before +Ripper showed himself. The first intimation he received of that truant's +presence was when he drew his attention to the loose skiff. + +"How came you to see the skiff?" sharply asked the coroner. + +Ripper spoke up with trembling lips. He was waiting outside after he came +up, and afraid to go in lest his master should beat him for not taking +the sacks, which went clean out of his mind, they did, and then he saw +the little boat; upon which he called out and told his master. + +"And it was also you who first saw the body in the water," observed the +coroner, regarding the reluctant witness curiously. "How came you to see +that? Were you looking for something of the sort?" + +The witness shivered. He didn't know how he come to see it. He was on the +strade, not looking for nothing, when he saw some'at dark among the +reeds, and told the harvesters when they come by. They said it was a man, +got him out, and then found it was his lordship. + +There was only one peculiarity about the boy's evidence--his manner. +All he said was feasible enough; indeed, what would be most likely to +happen under the circumstances. But whence arose his terror? Had he been +of a timid temperament, it might have been natural; but the miller had +spoken the truth--he was audacious and hardy. Only upon one or two, +however, did the manner leave any impression. Pike, who made one of the +crowd in the inquest-room, was one of these. His experience of human +nature was tolerably keen, and he felt sure the boy was keeping something +behind that he did not dare to tell. The coroner and jury were not so +clear-sighted, and dismissed him with the remark that he was a "little +fool." + +"Call George Gorton," said the coroner, looking at his notes. + +Very much to Lord Hartledon's surprise--perhaps somewhat to his +annoyance--the man answering to this name was the one who had originally +come to Calne on a special mission to himself. Some feeling caused him to +turn from the man whilst he gave his evidence, a thing easily done in the +crowded room. + +It appeared that amidst the stirring excitement in the neighbourhood on +the Tuesday night when the death became known, this stranger happened to +avow in the public-house which he made his quarters that he had seen Lord +Hartledon in his skiff just before the event must have happened. The +information was reported, and the man received a summons to appear before +the coroner. + +And it may be as well to remark now, that his second appearance was owing +to a little cowardice on his own part. He had felt perfectly satisfied at +the time with the promise given him by Lord Hartledon to see the debt +paid--given also in the presence of the Rector--and took his departure in +the train, just as Pike had subsequently told Mr. Elster. But ere he had +gone two stages on his journey, he began to think he might have been too +precipitate, and to ask himself whether his employers would not tell him +so when he appeared before them, unbacked by any guarantee from Lord +Hartledon; for this, by a strange oversight, he had omitted to ask for. +He halted at once, and went back by the next return train. The following +day, Tuesday, he spent looking after Lord Hartledon, but, as it happened, +did not meet him. + +The man--a dissipated young man, now that his hat was off--came forward +in his long coat, his red hair and whiskers. But it seemed that he had +really very little information to give. He was on the banks of the river +when Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff, and noticed how strangely he was +rowing, one arm apparently lying useless. What part of the river was +this, the coroner asked; and the witness avowed that he could not +describe it. He was a stranger, never there but that once; all he knew +was, that it was higher up, beyond Hartledon House. What might he have +been doing there, demanded the coroner. Only strolling about, was the +answer. What was his business at Calne? came the next question; and as it +was put, the witness caught the eye of the new Lord Hartledon through an +opening in the crowd. His business, the witness replied to the coroner, +was his own business, and did not concern the public, and he respectfully +declined to state it. He presumed Calne was a free place like other +places, where a stranger might spend a few days without question, if he +pleased. + +Pike chuckled at this: incipient resistance to authority cheered that +lawless man's heart. He had stood throughout, in the shadow of the crowd, +just within the door, attentively watching the witnesses as they gave +their evidence: but he was not prepared for what was to come next. + +Did the witness see any other spectators on the bank? continued the +coroner. Only one, was the answer: a man called Pike, or some such name. +Pike was watching the little boat on the river when he got up to him; he +remarked to Pike that his lordship's arm seemed tired; and he and Pike +had walked back to Calne together. + +Pike would have got away had he been able, but the coroner whispered to +an officer. For one single moment Mr. Pike seemed inclined to show fight; +he began struggling, not gently, to reach the door; the next he gave it +up, and resigned himself to his fate. There was a little hubbub, in the +midst of which a slip of paper with a pencilled line from Lord Hartledon, +was handed to the coroner. + +"_Press this point, whether they returned to Calne at once and +together._" + +"George Gorton," cried the coroner, as he crushed the paper in his hand, +"at what hour did you return to Calne?" + +"I went at once. As soon as the little boat was out of sight." + +"Went alone?" + +"No, sir. I and the man Pike walked together. I've said so already." + +"What made you go together?" + +"Nothing in particular. We were both going back, I suppose, and strolled +along talking." + +It appeared to be all that the witness had to tell, and Mr. Pike came +forward perforce. As he stood there, his elegant wide-awake bent in his +hand, he looked more like the wild man of the woods he had been compared +to, than a civilized being. Rough, rude, and abrupt were his tones as he +spoke, and he bent his face and eyes downwards whilst he answered. It was +in those eyes that lay the look which had struck Mr. Elster as being +familiar to him. He persisted in giving his name as Tom, not Thomas. + +But if the stranger in the long coat had little evidence to give, Pike +had even less. He had been in the woods that afternoon and sauntered to +the bank of the river just as Lord Hartledon passed in the skiff; but he +had taken very little notice of him. It was only when the last witness, +who came up at the moment, remarked upon the queer manner in which his +lordship held his arm, that he saw it was lying idle. + +Not a thing more could he or would he tell. It was all he knew, he said, +and would swear it was all. He went back to Calne with the last witness, +and never saw his lordship again alive. + +It did appear to be all, just as it did in the matter of the other man. +The coroner inquired whether he had seen any one else on the banks or +near them, and Pike replied that he had not set eyes on another soul, +which Percival knew to be false, for he had seen _him_. He was told to +put his signature to his evidence, which the clerk had taken down, and +affixed a cross. + +"Can't you write?" asked the coroner. + +Pike shook his head negatively. "Never learnt," he curtly said. And +Percival believed that to be an untruth equally with the other. He could +not help thinking that the avowal of their immediate return might also be +false: it was just as possible that one or other, or both, had followed +the course of the boat. + +Mr. Carteret was examined. He could tell no more than he had already +told. They started together, but he had soon got beyond his lordship, +and had never seen him again alive. There was nothing more to be gleaned +or gathered. Not the smallest suspicion of foul play, or of its being +anything but a most unfortunate accident, was entertained for a moment by +any one who heard the evidence, and the verdict of the jury was to that +effect: Accidental Death. + +As the crowd pressed out of the inquest-room, jostling one another in the +gloom of the evening, and went their several ways, Lord Hartledon found +himself close to Gorton, his coat flapping as he walked. The man was +looking round for Pike: but Mr. Pike, the instant his forced evidence was +given, had slunk away from the gaze of his fellow-men to ensconce himself +in his solitary shed. To all appearance Lord Hartledon had overtaken +Gorton by accident: the man turned aside in obedience to a signal, and +halted. They could not see much of each other's faces in the twilight. + +"I wish to ask you a question," said Percival in low, impressive, and not +unkindly tones. "Did you speak with my brother, Lord Hartledon, at all on +Tuesday?" + +"No, my lord, I did not," was the ready answer. "I was trying to get to +see his lordship, but did not." + +"What did you want with him? What brought you back to Calne?" + +"I wanted to get from him a guarantee for--for what your lordship knows +of; which he had omitted to give, and I had not thought to ask for," +civilly replied the man. "I was looking about for his lordship on the +Tuesday morning, but did not get to see him. In the afternoon, when the +boat-race was over, I made bold to call at Hartledon, but the servants +said his lordship wasn't in. As I came away, I saw him, as I thought, +pass the lodge and go up the road, and I cut after him, but couldn't +overtake him, and at last lost sight of him. I struck into a tangled sort +of pathway through the gorse, or whatever it's called down here, and it +brought me out near the river. His lordship was just sculling down, and +then I knew it was some one else had gone by the lodge, and not him. +Perhaps it was your lordship?" + +"You knew it was Lord Hartledon in the boat? I mean, you recognized him? +You did not mistake him for me?" + +"I knew him, my lord. If I'd been a bit nearer the lodge, I shouldn't +have been likely to mistake even your lordship for him." + +Lord Hartledon was gazing into the man's face still; never once had his +eyes been removed from it. + +"You did not see Lord Hartledon later?" + +"I never saw him all day but that once when he passed in the skiff." + +"You did not follow him, then?" + +"Of what use?" debated the man. "I couldn't call out my business from the +banks, and didn't know his lordship was going to land lower down. I went +straight back to Calne, my lord, walking with that man Pike--who is a rum +fellow, and has a history behind him, unless I'm mistaken; but it's no +business of mine. I made my mind up to another night of it in Calne, +thinking I'd get to Hartledon early next morning before his lordship had +time to go out; and I was sitting comfortably with a pipe and a glass of +beer, when news came of the accident." + +Lord Hartledon believed the man to be telling the truth; and a +weight--the source of which he did not stay to analyse--was lifted from +his mind. But he asked another question. + +"Why are you still in Calne?" + +"I waited for orders. After his lordship died I couldn't go away without +them--carrying with me nothing but the word of a dead man. The orders +came this morning, safe enough; but I had the summons served on me then +to attend the inquest, and had to stay for it. I'm going away now, my +lord, by the first train." + +Lord Hartledon was satisfied, and nodded his head. As he turned back he +met Dr. Ashton. + +"I was looking for you, Lord Hartledon. If you require any assistance or +information in the various arrangements that now devolve upon you, I +shall be happy to render both. There will be a good deal to do one way or +another; more, I dare say, than your inexperience has the least idea of. +You will have your solicitor at hand, of course; but if you want me, you +know where to find me." + +The Rector's words were courteous, but the tone was not warm, and the +title "Lord Hartledon" grated on Val's ear. In his impulse he grasped the +speaker's hand, pouring forth a heartfelt prayer. + +"Oh, Dr. Ashton, will you not forgive me? The horrible trouble I brought +upon myself is over now. I don't rejoice in it under the circumstances, +Heaven knows; I only speak of the fact. Let me come to your house again! +Forgive me for the past." + +"In one sense the trouble is over, because the debts that were a +formidable embarrassment to Mr. Elster are as nothing to Lord Hartledon," +was the reply. "But let me assure you of one thing: that your being Lord +Hartledon will not make the slightest difference to my decision not to +give you my daughter, unless your line of conduct shall change." + +"It is changed. Dr. Ashton, on my word of honour, I will never be guilty +of carelessness again. One thing will be my safeguard, though all else +should fail--the fact that I passed my word for this to my dear brother +not many hours before his death. For my sake, for Anne's sake, you will +forgive me!" + +Was it possible to resist the persuasive tones, the earnestness of the +honest, dark-blue eyes? If ever Percival Elster was to make an effort for +good, and succeed, it must be now. The doctor knew it; and he knew that +Anne's happiness was at stake. But he did not thaw immediately. + +"You know, Lord Hartledon--" + +"Call me Val, as you used to do," came the pleading interruption; and Dr. +Ashton smiled in spite of himself. + +"Percival, you know it is against my nature to be harsh or unforgiving; +just as I believe it contrary to your nature to be guilty of deliberate +wrong. If you will only be true to yourself, I would rather have you for +my son-in-law than any other man in England; as I would have had when you +were Val Elster. Do you note my words? _true to yourself_." + +"As I will be from henceforth," whispered Val, earnest tears rising to +his eyes. + +And as he would have been but for his besetting sin. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +LATER IN THE DAY. + + +It happened that Clerk Gum had business on hand the day of the inquest, +which obliged him to go to Garchester. He reached home after dark; and +the first thing he saw was his wife, in what he was pleased to call a +state of semi-idiocy. The tea-things were laid on the table, and +substantial refreshment in the shape of cold meat, and a plate of muffins +ready for toasting, all for the clerk's regalement. But Mrs. Gum herself +sat on a low chair by the fire, her eyes swollen with crying. + +"What's the matter now?" was the clerk's first question. + +"Oh, Gum, I told you you ought not to have gone off to-day. You might +have stayed for the inquest." + +"Much good I should do the inquest, or the inquest do me," retorted the +clerk. "Has Becky gone?" + +"Long ago. Gum, that dream's coming round. I said it would. I _told_ you +there was ill in store for Lord Hartledon; and that Pike was mixed up in +it, and Mr. Elster also in some way. If you'd only listen to me--" + +The clerk, who had been brushing his hat and shaking the dust from his +outer coat--for he was a careful man with his clothes, and always +well-dressed--brought down his hand upon the table with some temper. + +"Just stop that. I've heard enough of that dream, and of all your dreams. +Confounded folly! Haven't I trouble and worry enough upon my mind, +without your worrying me every time I come in about your idiotic dreams?" + +"Well," returned Mrs. Gum, "if the dream's nothing, I'd like to ask why +they had Pike up to-day before them all?" + +"Who had him up?" asked the clerk, after a pause. "Had him up where?" + +"Before the people sitting on the body of Lord Hartledon. Lydia Jones +brought me the news just now. 'They had Pike the poacher up,' says she. +'He was up before the jury, and had to confess to it.' 'Confess to what,' +said I. 'Why, that he was about in the woods when my lord met his end,' +said she; 'and it's to know how my lord did meet it, and whether the +poacher mightn't have dealt that blow on his temple and robbed him after +it.' Gum--" + +"There's no suspicion of foul play, is there?" interrupted the clerk, in +strangely subdued tones. + +"Not that I know of, except in Lydia's temper," answered Mrs. Gum. "But +I don't like to hear he was up there at all." + +"Lydia Jones is a foul-tongued woman, capable of swearing away any man's +life. Is Pike in custody?" + +"Not yet. They've let him off for the present. Oh, Gum, often and often +do I wish my days were ended!" + +"Often and often do I wish I'd a quiet house to come to, and not be +bothered with dreams," was the scornful retort. "Suppose you toast the +muffins." + +She gave a sigh or two, put her cap straight, smoothed her ragged hair, +and meekly rose to obey. The clerk was carefully folding up the outer +coat, for it was one he wore only on high-days, when he felt something in +the pocket--a small parcel. + +"I'd almost forgotten this," he exclaimed, taking it out. "Thanks to you, +Nance! What with your dreams and other worryings I can't think of my +proper business." + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"A deed Dr. Ashton's lawyer got me to bring and save his clerk a +journey--if you must know. I'll take it over at once, while the tea's +brewing." + +As Jabez Gum passed through his own gate he looked towards Mr. Pike's +dwelling; it was only natural he should do so after the recent +conversation; and he saw that worthy gentleman come stealing across the +waste ground, with his usual cautious step. Although not given to +exchanging courtesies with his neighbour, the clerk walked briskly +towards him now, and waited at the hurdles which divided the waste ground +from the road. + +"I hear you were prowling about the mill when Lord Hartledon met with his +accident," began the clerk, in low, condemning tones. + +"And what if I was," asked Pike, leaning his arms on the hurdles and +facing the clerk. "Near the mill I wasn't; about the woods and river I +was; and I saw him pass down in the sculling boat with his disabled arm. +What of it, I ask?" + +Pike's tone, though short, was civil enough. The forced appearance before +the coroner and public had disturbed his equanimity in no slight degree, +and taken for the present all insolence out of him. + +"Should any doubt get afloat that his lordship's death might not have +been accidental, your presence at the spot would tell against you." + +"No, it wouldn't. I left the spot before the accident could have +happened; and I came back to Calne with a witness. As to the death having +been something worse than accident, not a soul in the place has dreamt of +such a thing except me." + +"Except you! What do you mean?" + +Pike leaned more over the hurdles, so as to bring his disreputable face +closer to Mr. Gum, who slightly recoiled as he caught the low whisper. + +"I don't think the death was accidental. I believe his lordship was just +put out of the way quietly." + +"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the shocked clerk. "By whom? By you?" he +added, in his bewilderment. + +"No," returned the man. "If I'd done it, I shouldn't talk about it." + +"What do you mean?" cried Mr. Gum. + +"I mean that I have my suspicions; and good suspicions they are. Many a +man has been hung on less. I am not going to tell them; perhaps not ever. +I shall wait and keep my eyes open, and bring them, if I can, to +certainties. Time enough to talk then, or keep silent, as circumstances +may dictate." + +"And you tell me you were not near the place at the time of the +accident?" + +"_I_ wasn't," replied Mr. Pike, with emphasis. + +"Who was?" + +"That's my secret. And as I've a little matter of business on hand +to-night, I don't care to be further delayed, if it's all the same to +you, neighbour. And instead of your accusing me of prowling about the +mill again, perhaps you'll just give a thought occasionally to what I +have now said, keeping it to yourself. I'm not afraid of your spreading +it in Calne; for it might bring a hornets' nest about your head, and +about some other heads that you wouldn't like to injure." + +With the last words Mr. Pike crossed the hurdles and went off in the +direction of Hartledon. It was a light night, and the clerk stood and +stared after him. To say that Jabez Gum in his astonishment was uncertain +whether he stood on his head or his heels, would be saying little; and +how much of these assertions he might believe, and what mischief Mr. Pike +might be going after to-night, he knew not. Drawing a long sigh, which +did not sound very much like a sigh of relief, he at length turned off to +Dr. Ashton's, and the man disappeared. + +We must follow Pike. He went stealthily up the road past Hartledon, +keeping in the shade of the hedge, and shrinking into it when he saw any +one coming. Striking off when he neared the mill, he approached it +cautiously, and halted amidst some trees, whence he had a view of the +mill-door. + +He was waiting for the boy, David Ripper. Fully convinced by the lad's +manner at the inquest that he had not told all he knew, but was keeping +something back in fear, Mr. Pike, for reasons of his own, resolved to +come at it if he could. He knew that the boy would be at work later than +usual that night, having been hindered in the afternoon. + +Imagine yourself standing with your back to the river, reader, and take a +view of the premises as they face you. The cottage is a square building, +and has four good rooms on the ground floor. The miller's thrifty wife +generally locked all these rooms up if she went out, and carried the keys +away in her pocket. The parlour window was an ordinary sash-window, with +outside shutters; the kitchen window a small casement, protected by a +fixed net-work of strong wire. No one could get in or out, even when the +casement was open, without tearing this wire away, which would not be a +difficult matter to accomplish. On the left of the cottage, but to your +right as you face it, stands the mill, to which you ascend by steps. It +communicates inside with the upper floor of the cottage, which is used +as a store-room for corn; and from this store-room a flight of stairs +descends to the kitchen below. Another flight of stairs from this +store-room communicated with the open passage leading from the back-door +to the stable. This is all that need be said: and you may think it +superfluous to have described it at all: but it is not so. + +The boy Ripper at length came forth. With a shuddering avoidance of the +water he came tearing along as one running from a ghost, and was darting +past the trees, when he found himself detained by an arm of great +strength. Mr. Pike clapped his other hand upon the boy's mouth, stifling +a howl of terror. + +"Do you see this, Rip?" cried he. + +Rip did see it. It was a pistol held rather inconveniently close to the +boy's breast. Rip dearly loved his life; but it nearly went out of him +then with fear. + +"Now," said Pike, "I've come up to know about this business of Lord +Hartledon's, and I will know it, or leave you as dead as he is. And I'll +have you took up for murder, into the bargain," he rather illogically +continued, "as an accessory to the fact." + +David Ripper was in a state of horror; all idea of concealment gone out +of him. "I couldn't help it," he gasped. "I couldn't get out to him; I +was locked up in the mill. Don't shoot me." + +"I'll spare you on one condition," decided Pike. "Disclose the whole of +this from first to last, and then we may part friends. But try to palm +off one lie upon me, and I'll riddle you through. To begin with: what +brought you locked up in the mill?" + +It was a wicked tale of a wicked young jail-bird, as Mr. Pike (probably +the worse jail-bird by far of the two) phrased it. Master Ripper had +purposely caused himself to be locked in the mill, his object being to +supply himself with as much corn as he could carry about him for the +benefit of his rabbits and pigeons and other live stock at home. He had +done it twice before, he avowed, in dread of the pistol, and had got away +safe through the square hole in the passage at the foot of the back +staircase, whence he had dropped to the ground. To his consternation on +this occasion, however, he had found the door at the foot of the stairs +bolted, as it never had been before, and he could not get to the passage. +So he was a prisoner all the afternoon, and had exercised his legs +between the store-room and kitchen, both of which were open to him. + +If ever a man showed virtuous indignation at a sinner's confession, Mr. +Pike showed it now. "That's how you were about in the stubble-field +setting your traps, you young villain! I saw the coroner look at you. And +now about Lord Hartledon. What did you see?" + +Master Ripper rubbed the perspiration from his face as he went on with +his tale. Pike listened with all the ears he possessed and said not a +word, beyond sundry rough exclamations, until the tale was done. + +"You awful young dog! You saw all that from the kitchen-window, and never +tried to get out of it!" + +"I _couldn't_ get out of it," pleaded the boy. "It's got a wire-net +before it, and I couldn't break that." + +"You are strong enough to break it ten times over," retorted Pike. + +"But then master would ha' known I'd been in the mill!" cried the boy, a +gleam of cunning in his eyes. + +"Ugh," grunted Pike. "And you saw exactly what you've told me?" + +"I saw it and heard the cries." + +"Did he see you?" + +"No; I was afeard to show myself. When master come home, the first thing +he did was t' unlock that there staircase door, and I got out without his +seeing me--" + +"Where did you hide the grain you were loaded with?" demanded Pike. + +"I'd emptied it out again in the store-room," returned the boy. "I told +master there were a loose skiff out there, and he come out and secured +it. Them harvesters come up next and got him out of the water." + +"Yes, you could see fast enough what you were looking for! Well, young +Rip," continued Mr. Pike, consolingly, "you stand about as rich a chance +of being hanged as ever you'll stand in all your born days. If you'd +jumped through that wire you'd have saved my lord, and he'd have made it +right for you with old Floyd. I'd advise you to keep a silent tongue in +your head, if you want to save your neck." + +"I was keeping it, till you come and made me tell with that there +pistol," howled the boy. "You won't go and split on me?" he asked, with +trembling lips. + +"I won't split on you about the grain," graciously promised Pike. "It's +no business of mine. As to the other matter--well, I'll not say anything +about that; at any rate, yet awhile. You keep it a secret; so will I." + +Without another word, Pike extended his hand as a signal that the culprit +was at liberty to depart; and he did so as fast as his legs would carry +him. Pike then returned the pistol to his pocket and took his way back to +Calne in a thoughtful and particularly ungenial mood. There was a doubt +within him whether the boy had disclosed the truth, even to him. + +Perhaps on no one--with the exception of Percival--did the death of Lord +Hartledon leave its effects as it did on Lady Kirton and her daughter +Maude. To the one it brought embarrassment; to the other, what seemed +very like a broken heart. The countess-dowager's tactics must change as +by magic. She had to transfer the affection and consideration evinced for +Edward Lord Hartledon to his brother; and to do it easily and naturally. +She had to obliterate from the mind of the latter her overbearing dislike +to him, cause her insults to be remembered no more. A difficult task, +even for her, wily woman as she was. + +How was it to be done? For three long hours the night after Lord +Hartledon's death, she lay awake, thinking out her plans; perhaps for the +first time in her life, for obtuse natures do not lie awake. The death +had affected her only as regarded her own interests; she could feel for +none and regret none in her utter selfishness. One was fallen, but +another had risen up. "Le roi est mort: vive le roi!" + +On the day following the death she had sought an interview with Percival. +Never a woman evinced better tact than she. There was no violent change +in her manner, no apologies for the past, or display of sudden affection. +She spoke quietly and sensibly of passing topics: the death, and what +could have led to it; the immediate business on hand, some of the changes +it entailed in the future. "I'll stay with you still, Percival," she +said, "and look after things a bit for you, as I have been doing for your +brother. It is an awful shock, and we must all have time to get over it. +If I had only foreseen this, how I might have spared my temper and poor +Maude's feelings!" + +She looked out of the corner of her eye at the young man; but he betrayed +no curiosity to hear more, and she went on unasked. + +"You know, Val, for a portionless girl, as Maude is, it was a great blow +to me when I found her fixing her heart upon a younger son. How cross and +unjust it made me I couldn't conceal: mothers are mothers. I wanted her +to take a fancy to Hartledon, dear fellow, and I suppose she could not, +and it rendered me cross; and I know I worried her and worried my own +temper, till at times I was not conscious of what I said. Poor Maude! she +did not rebel openly, but I could see her struggles. Only a week ago, +when Hartledon was talking about his marrying sometime, and hinting that +she might care fox him if she tried, she scored her beautiful drawing all +over with ugly marks; ran the pencil through it--" + +"But why do you tell me this now?" asked Val. + +"Hartledon--dear me! I wonder how long I shall be getting accustomed to +your name?--there's only you and me and Maude left now of the family," +cried the dowager; "and if I speak of such things, it is in fulness of +heart. And now about these letters: do you care how they are worded?" + +"I don't seem to care about anything," listlessly answered the young man. +"As to the letters, I think I'd rather write them myself, Lady Kirton." + +"Indeed you shall not have any trouble of that sort to-day. _I'll_ write +the letters, and you may indulge yourself in doing nothing." + +He yielded in his unstable nature. She spoke of business letters, and it +was better that he should write them; he wished to write them; but she +carried her point, and his will yielded to hers. Would it be a type of +the future?--would he yield to her in other things in defiance of his +better judgment? Alas! alas! + +She picked up her skirts and left him, and went sailing upstairs to her +daughter's room. Maude was sitting shivering in a shawl, though the day +was hot. + +"I've paved the way," nodded the old woman, in meaning tones. "And +there's one fortunate thing about Val: he is so truthful himself, one may +take him in with his eyes open." + +Maude turned _her_ eyes upon her mother: very languid and unspeculative +eyes just then. + +"I gave him a hint, Maude, that you had been unable to bring yourself to +like Hartledon, but had fixed your mind on a younger son. Later, we'll +let him suspect who the younger son was." + +The words aroused Maude; she started up and stood staring at her mother, +her eyes dilating with a sort of horror; her pale cheeks slowly turning +crimson. + +"I don't understand," she gasped; "I _hope_ I don't understand. You--you +do not mean that I am to try to like Val Elster?" + +"Now, Maude, no heroics. I'll not see _you_ make a fool of yourself as +your sisters have done. He's not Val Elster any longer; he is Lord +Hartledon: better-looking than ever his brother was, and will make a +better husband, for he'll be more easily led." + +"I would not marry Val for the whole world," she said, with strong +emotion. "I dislike him; I hate him; I never could be a wife to Val +Elster." + +"We'll see," said the dowager, pushing up her front, of which she had +just caught sight in a glass. + +"Thank Heaven, there's no fear of it!" resumed Maude, collecting her +senses, and sitting down again with a relieved sigh; "he is to marry Anne +Ashton. Thank Heaven that he loves her!" + +"Anne Ashton!" scornfully returned the countess-dowager. "She might have +been tolerated when he was Val Elster, not now he is Lord Hartledon. What +notions you have, Maude!" + +Maude burst into tears. "Mamma, I think it is fearfully indecent for you +to begin upon these things already! It only happened last night, and--and +it sounds quite horrible." + +"When one has to live as I do, one has to do many things decent and +indecent," retorted the countess-dowager sharply. "He has had his hint, +and you've got yours: and you are no true girl if you suffer yourself now +to be triumphed over by Anne Ashton." + +Maude cried on silently, thinking how cruel fate was to have taken one +brother and spared the other. Who--save Anne Ashton--would have missed +Val Elster; while Lord Hartledon--at least he had made the life of one +heart. A poor bruised heart now; never, never to be made quite whole +again. + +Thus the dowager, in her blindness, began her plans. In her blindness! If +we could only foresee the ending of some of the unholy schemes that many +of us are apt to weave, we might be more willing to leave them humbly in +a higher Hand than ours. Do they ever bring forth good, these plans, born +of our evil passions--hatred, malice, utter selfishness? I think not. +They may seem to succeed triumphantly, but--watch the triumph to the end. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FEVER. + + +The dews of an October evening were falling upon Calne, as Lord Hartledon +walked from the railway-station. Just as unexpectedly as he had arrived +the morning you first saw him, when he was only Val Elster, had he +arrived now. By the merest accident one of the Hartledon servants +happened to be at the station when the train arrived, and took charge of +his master's luggage. + +"All well at home, James?" + +"All quite well, my lord." + +Several weeks had elapsed since his brother's death, and Lord Hartledon +had spent them in London. He went up on business the week after the +funeral, and did not return again. In one respect he had no inducement to +return; for the Ashtons, including Anne, were on a visit in Wales. They +were at home now, as he knew well; and perhaps that had brought him down. + +He went in unannounced, finding his way to the inner drawing-room. A +large fire blazed in the grate, and Lady Maude sat by it so intent in +thought as not to observe his entrance. She wore a black crepe dress, +with a little white trimming on its low body and sleeves. The firelight +played on her beautiful features; and her eyelashes glistened as if with +tears: she was thinner and paler; he saw it at once. The countess-dowager +kept to Hartledon and showed no intention of moving from it: she and her +daughter had been there alone all these weeks. + +"How are you, Maude?" + +She looked round and started up, backing from him with a face of alarm. +Ah, was it _instinct_ caused her so to receive him? What, or who, was she +thinking of; holding her hands before her with that face of horror? + +"Maude, have I so startled you?" + +"Percival! I beg your pardon. I believe I was thinking of--of your +brother, and I really did not know you in the uncertain light. We don't +have the rooms lighted early," she added, with a little laugh. + +He took her hands in his. Now that she knew him, and the alarm was over, +she seemed really pleased to see him: the dark eyes were raised to his +with a frank smile. + +"May I take a cousin's greeting, Maude?" + +Without waiting for yes or no, he stooped and took the kiss. Maude flung +his hands away. He should have left out the "cousin," or not have taken +the kiss. + +He went and stood with his elbow on the mantelpiece, soberly, as if he +had only kissed a sister. Maude sat down again. + +"Why did you not send us word you were coming?" she asked. + +"There was no necessity for it. And I only made my mind up this morning." + +"What a long time you have been away! I thought you went for a week." + +"I did not get my business over very quickly; and waited afterwards to +see Thomas Carr, who was out of town. The Ashtons were away, you know; so +I had no inducement to hurry back again." + +"Very complimentary to _her_. Who's Thomas Carr?" asked Maude. + +"A barrister; the greatest friend I possess in this world. We were at +college together, and he used to keep me straight." + +"Keep you straight! Val!" + +"It's quite true. I went to him in all my scrapes and troubles. He is the +most honourable, upright, straightforward man I know; and, as such, +possesses a talent for serving--" + +"Hartledon! Is it _you_?" + +The interruption came from the dowager. She and the butler came in +together, both looking equally astonished at the appearance of Lord +Hartledon. The former said dinner was served. + +"Will you let me sit down in this coat?" asked Val. + +The countess-dowager would willingly have allowed him to sit down without +any. Her welcome was demonstrative; her display of affection quite warm, +and she called him "Val," tenderly. He escaped for a minute to his room, +washed his hands, brushed his hair, and was down again, and taking the +head of his own table. + +It was pleasant to have him there--a welcome change from Hartledon's +recent monotony; and even Maude, with her boasted dislike, felt prejudice +melting away. Boasted dislike, not real, it had been. None could dislike +Percival. He was not Edward, and it was him Maude had loved. Percival she +never would love, but she might learn to like him. As he sat near her, in +his plain black morning attire, courteous, genuinely sweet-tempered, his +good looks conspicuous, a smile on his delicate, refined, but vacillating +lips, and his honest dark-blue eyes bent upon her in kindness, Maude for +the first time admitted a vision of the possible future, together with a +dim consciousness that it might not be intolerable. Half the world, of +her age and sex, would have deemed it indeed a triumph to be made the +wife of that attractive man. + +He had cautiously stood aside for Lady Kirton to take the head of the +table; but the dowager had positively refused, and subsided into the +chair at the foot. She did not fill it in dear Edward's time, she said; +neither should she in dear Val's; he had come home to occupy his own +place. And oh, thank goodness he was come! She and Maude had been so +lonely and miserable, growing thinner daily from sheer _ennui_. So she +faced Lord Hartledon at the end of the table, her flaxen curls surmounted +by an array of black plumes, and looking very like a substantial female +mute. + +"What an awful thing that is about the Rectory!" exclaimed she, when they +were more than half through dinner. + +Lord Hartledon looked up quietly. "What is the matter at the Rectory?" + +"Fever has broken out." + +"Is that all!" he exclaimed, some amusement on his face. "I thought it +must have taken fire." + +"A fever's worse than a fire." + +"Do you think so?" + +"_Think so!_" echoed the dowager. "You can run away from a fire; but a +fever may take you before you are aware of it. Every soul in the Rectory +may die; it may spread to the parish; it may spread here. I have kept tar +burning outside the house the last two days." + +"You are not serious, Lady Kirton!" + +"I am serious. I wouldn't catch a fever for the whole world. I should die +of fright before it had time to kill me. Besides--I have Maude to guard. +You were forgetting her." + +"There's no danger at all. One of the servants became ill after they +returned home, and it proved to be fever. I don't suppose it will +spread." + +"How did _you_ hear about it?" + +"From Miss Ashton. She mentioned it in her last letter to me." + +"I didn't know you corresponded with her," cried the dowager, her tones +rather shrill. + +"Not correspond with Miss Ashton!" he repeated. "Of course I do." + +The old dowager had a fit of choking: something had gone the wrong way, +she said. Lord Hartledon resumed. + +"It is an awful shame of those seaside lodging-house people! Did you hear +the particulars, Maude? After the Ashtons concluded their visit in Wales, +they went for a fortnight to the seaside, on their way home, taking +lodgings. Some days after they had been settled in the rooms they +discovered that some fever was in the house; a family who occupied +another set of apartments being ill with it, and had been ill before the +Ashtons went in. Dr. Ashton told the landlady what he thought of her +conduct, and then they left the house for home. But Mrs. Ashton's maid, +Matilda, had already taken it." + +"Did Miss Ashton give you these particulars?" asked Maude, toying with a +late rose that lay beside her plate. + +"Yes. I should feel inclined to prosecute the woman, were I Dr. Ashton, +for having been so wickedly inconsiderate. But I hope Matilda is better, +and that the alarm will end with her. It is four days since I had Anne's +letter." + +"Then, Lord Hartledon, I can tell you the alarm's worse, and another has +taken it, and the parish is up in arms," said the countess-dowager, +tartly. "It has proved to be fever of a most malignant type, and not a +soul but Hillary the surgeon goes near the Rectory, You must not venture +within half-a-mile of it. Dr. Ashton was so careless as to occupy his +pulpit on Sunday; but, thank goodness, I did not venture to church, +or allow Maude to go. Your Miss Ashton will be having it next." + +"Of course they have advice from Garchester?" he exclaimed. + +"How should I know? My opinion is that the parson himself might be +prosecuted for bringing the fever into a healthy neighbourhood. Port, +Hedges! One has need of a double portion of tonics in a time like this." + +The countess-dowager's alarms were not feigned--no, nor exaggerated. She +had an intense, selfish fear of any sort of illness; she had a worse fear +of death. In any time of public epidemic her terrors would have been +almost ludicrous in their absurdity but that they were so real. And she +"fortified" herself against infection by eating and drinking more than +ever. + +Nothing else was said: she shunned allusion to it when she could: and +presently she and Maude left the dining-room. "You won't be long, +Hartledon?" she observed, sweetly, as she passed him. Val only bowed in +answer, closed the door upon them, and rang for Hedges. + +"Is there much alarm regarding this fever at the Rectory?" he asked of +the butler. + +"Not very much, I think, my lord. A few are timid about it; as is always +the case. One of the other servants has taken it; but Mr. Hillary told me +when he was here this morning that he hoped it would not spread beyond +the Rectory." + +"Was Hillary here this morning? Nobody's ill?" asked Lord Hartledon, +quickly. + +"No one at all, my lord. The countess-dowager sent for him, to ask what +her diet had better be, and how she could guard against infection more +effectually than she was doing. She did not allow him to come in, but +spoke to him from one of the upper windows, with a cloak and respirator +on." + +Lord Hartledon looked at his butler; the man was suppressing a grim +smile. + +"Nonsense, Hedges!" + +"It's quite true, my lord. Mrs. Mirrable says she has five bowls of +disinfectant in their rooms." + +Lord Hartledon broke into a laugh, not suppressed. + +"And in the courtyard, looking towards the Rectory, as may be said, +there's several pitch-pots alight night and day," added Hedges. "We have +had a host of people up, wanting to know if the place is on fire." + +"What a joke!" cried Val--who was not yet beyond the age to enjoy such +jokes. "Hedges," he resumed, in a more confidential tone, "no strangers +have been here inquiring for me, I suppose?" + +He alluded to creditors, or people acting for them. To a careless man, as +Val had been, it was a difficult matter to know whether all his debts +were paid or not. He had settled what he remembered; but there might be +others. Hedges understood; and his voice fell to the same low tone: he +had been pretty cognizant of the embarrassments of Mr. Percival Elster. + +"Nobody at all, my lord. They wouldn't have got much information out of +me, if they had come." + +Lord Hartledon laughed. "Things are changed now, Hedges, and they may +have as much information as they choose. Bring me coffee here; make +haste." + +Coffee was brought, and he went out as soon as he had taken it, following +the road to the Rectory. It was a calm, still night, the moon tolerably +bright; not a breath of wind stirred the air, warm and oppressive for +October; not by any means the sort of night doctors covet when fever is +in the atmosphere. + +He turned in at the Rectory-gates, and was crossing to the house, when a +rustling of leaves in a shrubbery path caused him to look over the dwarf +laurels, and there stood Anne. He was at her side in an instant. She had +nothing on her head, as though she had just come forth from the rooms for +a breath of air. As indeed was the case. + +"My darling!" + +"I heard you had come," she whispered, as he held both her hands in his, +and her heart bounded with an exquisite flutter of delight. + +"How did you hear that?" he said, placing her hand within his arm, that +he might pace the walk with her. + +"Papa heard it. Some one had seen you walking home from the train: I +think it was Mr. Hillary. But, Percival, ought you to have come here?" +she added in alarm. "This is infected ground, you know." + +"Not for me. I have no more fear of fever than I have of moonstroke. +Anne, I hope _you_ will not take it," he gravely added. + +"I hope not, either. Like you, I have no fear of it. I am so glad Arthur +is away. Was it not wrong of that landlady to let her rooms to us when +she had fever in them?" + +"Infamously wrong," said Lord Hartledon warmly. + +"She excused herself afterwards by saying, that as the people who had the +fever were in quite a different part of the house from ours, she thought +there could be no danger. Papa was so angry. He told her he was sorry the +law did not take cognizance of such an offence. We had been a week in the +house before we knew of it." + +"How did you find it out?" + +"The lady who was ill with it died, and Matilda saw the coffin going up +the back stairs. She questioned the servants of the house, and one of +them told her all about it then, bit by bit. Another lady was lying ill, +and a third was recovering. The landlady, by way of excuse, said the +greatest wrong had been done to herself, for these ladies had brought the +fever into her house, and brought it deliberately. Fever had broken out +in their own home, some long way off, and they ran away from it, and took +her apartments, saying nothing; which was true, we found." + +"Two wrongs don't make a right," observed Lord Hartledon. "Their bringing +the fever into her house was no justification for receiving you into it +when it was there. It's the way of the world, Anne: one wrong leading to +others. Is Matilda getting over it?" + +"I hardly know. She is not out of danger; but Mr. Hillary has hopes of +her. One of the other servants has taken it, and is worse than Matilda. +Mr. Hillary has been with her three times to-day, and is coming again. +She was ill when I last wrote to you, Val; but we did not know it." + +"Which of them is it?" he asked. + +"The dairymaid; a stout girl, who has never had a day's illness before. +I don't suppose you know her. There was some trouble with her. She would +not take any medicine; would not do anything she ought to have done, and +the consequence is that the fever has got dangerously ahead. I am sure +she is very ill." + +"I hope it will not spread beyond the Rectory." + +"Oh, Val, that is our one great hope," she said, turning her earnest face +to him in the moonlight. "We are taking all possible precautions. None of +us are going beyond the grounds, except papa, and we do not receive any +one here. I don't know what papa will say to your coming." + +He smiled. "But you can't keep all the world away!" + +"We do--very nearly. Mr. Hillary comes, and Dr. Beamish from Garchester, +and one or two people have been here on business. If any one calls at the +gate, they are not asked in; and I don't suppose they would come in if +asked. Jabez Gum's the most obstinate. He comes in just as usual." + +"Lady Kirton is in an awful fright," said Val, in an amused tone. + +"Oh, I have heard of it," cried Anne, clasping her hands in laughter. +"She is burning tar outside the house; and she spoke to Mr. Hillary this +morning through the window muffled up in a cloak and respirator. What a +strange old thing she is!" + +Val shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think she means badly _au fond_; and +she has no home, poor creature." + +"Is that why she remains at Hartledon?" + +"I suppose so. Reigning at Hartledon must be something like a glimpse of +Paradise to her. She won't quit it in a hurry." + +"I wonder you like to have her there." + +"I know I shall never have courage to tell her to go," was the candid and +characteristic answer. "I was afraid of her as a boy, and I'm not sure +but I'm afraid of her still." + +"I don't like her--I don't like either of them," said Anne in a low tone. + +"Don't you like Maude?" + +"No. I am sure she is not true. To my mind there is something very false +about them both." + +"I think you are wrong, Anne; certainly as regards Maude." + +Miss Ashton did not press her opinion: they were his relatives. "But I +should have pitied poor Edward had he lived and married her," she said, +following out her thoughts. + +"I was mistaken when I thought Maude cared for Edward," observed Lord +Hartledon. "I'm sure I did think it. I used to tell Edward so; but a day +or two after he died I found I was wrong. The dowager had been urging +Maude to like him, and she could not, and it made her miserable." + +"Did Maude tell you this?" inquired Anne; her radiant eyes full of +surprise. + +"Not Maude: she never said a word to me upon the subject. It was the +dowager." + +"Then, Val, she must have said it with an object in view. I am sure Maude +did love him. I know she did." + +He shook his head. "You are wrong, Anne, depend upon it. She did not like +him, and she and her mother were at variance upon the point. However, it +is of no moment to discuss it now: and it might never have come to an +issue had Edward lived, for he did not care for her; and I dare say never +would have cared for her." + +Anne said no more. It was of no moment as he observed; but she retained +her own opinion. They strolled to the end of the short walk in silence, +and Anne said she must go in. + +"Am I quite forgiven?" whispered Lord Hartledon, bending his head down to +her. + +"I never thought I had very much to forgive," she rejoined, after a +pause. + +"My darling! I mean by your father." + +"Ah, I don't know. You must talk to him. He knows we have been writing to +each other. I think he means to trust you." + +"The best plan will be for you to come soon to Hartledon, Anne. I shall +never go wrong when once you are my wife." + +"Do you go so very wrong now?" she asked. + +"On my honour, no! You need not doubt me, Anne; now or ever. I have paid +up what I owed, and will take very good care to keep out of trouble for +the future. I incurred debts for others, more than for myself, and have +bought experience dearly. My darling, surely you can trust me now?" + +"I always did trust you," she murmured. + +He took a long, fervent kiss from her lips, and then led her to the open +lawn and across to the house. + +"Ought you to come in, Percival?" + +"Certainly. One word, Anne; because I may be speaking to the Rector--I +don't mean to-night. You will make no objection to coming soon to +Hartledon?" + +"I can't come, you know, as long as Lady Kirton is its mistress," she +said, half seriously, half jestingly. + +He laughed at the notion. Lady Kirton must be going soon of her own +accord; if not, he should have to pluck up courage and give her a hint, +was his answer. At any rate, she'd surely take herself off before +Christmas. The old dowager at Hartledon after he had Anne there! Not if +he knew it, he added, as he went on with her into the presence of Dr. and +Mrs. Ashton. The Rector started from his seat, at once telling him that +he ought not to have come in. Which Val did not see at all, and decidedly +refused to go out again. + +Meanwhile the countess-dowager and Maude were wondering what had become +of him. They supposed he was still sitting in the dining-room. The old +dowager fidgeted about, her fingers ominously near the bell. She was +burning to send to him, but hardly knew how he might take the message: it +might be that he would object to leading strings, and her attempt to put +them on would ruin all. But the time went on; grew late; and she was +dying for her tea, which she had chosen should wait also. Maude sat +before the fire in a large chair; her eyes, her hands, her whole air +supremely listless. + +"Don't you want tea, Maude?" suddenly cried her mother, who had cast +innumerable glances at her from time to time. + +"I have wanted it for hours--as it seems to me." + +"It's a horrid custom for young men, this sitting long after dinner. If +he gets into it--But you must see to that, and stop it, if ever you reign +at Hartledon. I dare say he's smoking." + +"If ever I reign at Hartledon--which I am not likely to do--I'll take +care not to wait tea for any one, as you have made me wait for it this +evening," was Maude's rejoinder, spoken with apathy. + +"I'll send a message to him," decided Lady Kirton, ringing rather +fiercely. + +A servant appeared. + +"Tell Lord Hartledon we are waiting tea for him." + +"His lordship's not in, my lady." + +"Not in!" + +"He went out directly after dinner, as soon as he had taken coffee." + +"Oh," said the countess-dowager. And she began to make the tea with +vehemence--for it did not please her to have it brought in made--and +knocked down and broke one of the delicate china cups. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +ANOTHER PATIENT. + + +It was eleven o'clock when Lord Hartledon entered. Lady Kirton was +fanning herself vehemently. Maude had gone upstairs for the night. + +"Where have you been?" she asked, laying down her fan. "We waited tea for +you until poor Maude got quite exhausted." + +"Did you? I am sorry for that. Never wait for me, pray, Lady Kirton. I +took tea at the Rectory." + +"Took--tea--where?" + +"At the Rectory." + +With a shriek the countess-dowager darted to the far end of the room, +turning up her gown as she went, and muffling it over her head and face, +so that only the little eyes, round now with horror, were seen. Lord +Hartledon gazed in amazement. + +"You have been at the Rectory, when I warned you not to go! You have been +inside that house of infection, and come home--here--to me--to my darling +Maude! May heaven forgive you, Hartledon!" + +"Why, what have I done? What harm will it do?" exclaimed the astonished +man. He would have approached her, but she warned him from her piteously +with her hands. She was at the upper end of the room, and he near the +door, so that she could not leave it without passing him. Hedges came +in, and stood staring in the same wondering astonishment as his master. + +"For mercy's sake, take off every shred of your clothes!" she cried. "You +may have brought home death in them. They shall be thrown into the +burning tar. Do you want to kill us? What has Maude done to you that you +behave in this way?" + +"I do think you must be going mad!" cried Lord Hartledon, in +bewilderment; "and I hope you'll forgive me for saying so. I--" + +"Go and change your clothes!" was all she could reiterate. "Every minute +you stand in them is fraught with danger. If you choose to die yourself, +it's downright wicked to bring death to us. Oh, go, that I may get out of +here." + +Lord Hartledon, to pacify her, left the room, and the countess-dowager +rushed forth and bolted herself into her own apartments. + +Was she mad, or making a display of affectation, or genuinely afraid? +wondered Lord Hartledon aloud, as he went up to his chamber. Hedges gave +it as his opinion that she was really afraid, because she had been as bad +as this when she first heard of the illness, before his lordship arrived. +Val retired to rest laughing: it was a good joke to him. + +But it was no joke to the countess-dowager, as he found to his cost when +the morning came. She got him out of his chamber betimes, and commenced a +"fumigating" process. The clothes he had worn she insisted should be +burnt; pleading so piteously that he yielded in his good nature. + +But there was to be a battle on another score. She forbade him, in the +most positive terms, to go again to the Rectory--to approach within +half-a-mile of it. Lord Hartledon civilly told her he could not comply; +he hinted that if her alarms were so great, she had better leave the +place until all danger was over, and thereby nearly entailed on himself +another war-dance. + +News that came up that morning from the Rectory did not tend to assuage +her fears. The poor dairymaid had died in the night, and another servant, +one of the men, was sickening. Even Lord Hartledon looked grave: and the +countess-dowager wormed a half promise from him, in the softened feelings +of the moment, that he would not visit the infected house. + +Before an hour was over he came to her to retract it. "I cannot be so +unfeeling, so unneighbourly, as not to call," he said. "Even were my +relations not what they are with Miss Ashton, I could not do it. It's of +no use talking, ma'am; I am too restless to stay away." + +A little skirmish of words ensued. Lady Kirton accused him of wishing to +sacrifice them to his own selfish gratification. Lord Hartledon felt +uncomfortable at the accusation. One of the best-hearted men living, he +did nothing in his vacillation. He would go in the evening, he said to +himself, when they could not watch him from the house. + +But she was clever at carrying out her own will, that countess-dowager; +more than a match for the single-minded young man. She wrote an urgent +letter to Dr. Ashton, setting forth her own and her daughter's danger if +her nephew, as she styled him, was received at the Rectory; and she +despatched it privately. + +It brought forth a letter from Dr. Ashton to Lord Hartledon; a kind but +peremptory mandate, forbidding him to show himself at the Rectory until +the illness was over. Dr. Ashton reminded his future son-in-law that it +was not particularly on his own account he interposed this veto, but for +the sake of the neighbourhood generally. If they were to prevent the +fever from spreading, it was absolutely necessary that no chance visitors +should be running into the Rectory and out of it again, to carry possible +infection to the parish. + +Lord Hartledon could only acquiesce. The note was written in terms so +positive as rather to surprise him; but he never suspected the +undercurrent that had been at work. In his straightforwardness he showed +the letter to the dowager, who nodded her head approvingly, but told no +tales. + +And so his days went on in the society of the two women at Hartledon; +and if he found himself oppressed with _ennui_ at first, he subsided +into a flirtation with Maude, and forgot care. Elster's folly! He was not +hearing from Anne, for it was thought better that even notes should not +pass out of the Rectory. + +Curiously to relate, the first person beyond the Rectory to take the +illness was the man Pike. How he could have caught it was a marvel to +Calne. And yet, if Lady Kirton's theory were correct, that infection was +conveyed by clothes, it might be accounted for, and Clerk Gum be deemed +the culprit. One evening after the clerk had been for some little time at +the Rectory with Dr. Ashton, he met Pike in going out; had brushed close +to him in passing, as he well remembered. However it might have been, in +a few days after that Pike was found to be suffering from the fever. + +Whether he would have died, lying alone in that shed, Calne did not +decide; and some thought he would, making no sign; some thought not, but +would have called in assistance. Mr. Hillary, an observant man, as +perhaps it was requisite he should be in time of public danger, halted +one morning to speak to Clerk Gum, who was standing at his own gate. + +"Have you seen anything lately of that neighbour of yours, Gum?" + +"Which neighbour?" asked the clerk, in tones that seemed to resent the +question. + +Mr. Hillary pointed his umbrella in the direction of the shed. "Pike." + +"No, I've seen nothing of him, that I remember." + +"Neither have I. What's more, I've seen no smoke coming out of the +chimney these two days. It strikes me he's ill. It may be the fever." + +"Gone away, possibly," remarked the clerk, after a moment's pause; "in +the same unceremonious manner that he came." + +"I think somebody ought to see. He may be lying there helpless." + +"Little matter if he is," growled the clerk, who seemed put out about +something or other. + +"It's not like you to say so, Gum. You might step over the stile and see; +you're nearest to him. Nobody knows what the man is, or what he may have +been; but humanity does not let even the worst die unaided." + +"What makes you think he has the fever?" asked the clerk. + +"I only say he may have it; having seen neither him nor his smoke these +two days. Never mind; if it annoys you to do this, I'll look in myself +some time to-day." + +"You wouldn't get admitted; he keeps his door fastened," returned Gum. +"The only way to get at him is to shout out to him through that glazed +aperture he calls his window." + +"Will you do it--or shall I?" + +"I'll do it," said the clerk; "and tell you if your services are wanted." + +Mr. Hillary walked off at a quick pace. There was a good deal of illness +in Calne at that season, though the fever had not spread. + +Whether Clerk Gum kept his word, or whether he did not, certain it was +that Mr. Hillary heard nothing from him that day. In the evening the +clerk was sitting in his office in a thoughtful mood, busy over some +accounts connected with an insurance company for which he was agent, when +he heard a quick sharp knock at the front-door. + +"I wonder if it's Hillary?" he muttered, as he took the candle and rose +to open it. + +Instead of the surgeon, there entered a lady, with much energy. It was +the _bete noire_ of Clerk Gum's life, Mrs. Jones. + +"What's the house shut up for at this early hour?" she began. "The door +locked, the shutters up, and the blinds down, just as if everybody was +dead or asleep. Where's Nance?" + +"She's out," said the clerk. "I suppose she shut up before she went, and +I've been in my office all the afternoon. Do you want anything?" + +"Do I want anything!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "I've come in to shelter from +the rain. It's been threatening all the evening, and it's coming down now +like cats and dogs." + +The clerk was leading the way to the little parlour; but she ignored the +movement, and went on to the kitchen. He could only follow her. "It's a +pity you came out when it threatened rain," said he. + +"Business took me out," replied Mrs. Jones. "I've been up to the mill. +I heard young Rip was ill, and going to leave; so I went up to ask if +they'd try our Jim. But young Rip isn't going to leave, and isn't ill, +mother Floyd says, though it's certain he's not well. She can't think +what's the matter with the boy; he's always fancying he sees ghosts in +the river. I've had my trapes for nothing." + +She had given her gown a good shake from the rain-drops in the middle of +the kitchen, and was now seated before the fire. The clerk stood by the +table, occasionally snuffing the candle, and wishing she'd take herself +off again. + +"Where's Nancy gone?" asked she. + +"I didn't hear her say." + +"And she'll be gone a month of Sundays, I suppose. I shan't wait for her, +if the rain gives over." + +"You'd be more comfortable in the small parlour," said the clerk, who +seemed rather fidgety; "there's a nice bit of fire there." + +"I'm more comfortable here," contradicted Mrs. Jones. "Where's the good +of a bit of fire for a gown as wet as mine?" + +Jabez Gum made no response. There was the lady, a fixture; and he could +only resign himself to the situation. + +"How's your friend at the next house--Pike?" she began again +sarcastically. + +"He's no friend of mine," said the clerk. + +"It looks like it, at all events; or you'd have given him into custody +long ago. _I_ wouldn't let a man harbour himself so close to me. He's +taken to a new dodge now: going about with a pistol to shoot people." + +"Who says so?" asked the clerk. + +"I say so. He frighted that boy Ripper pretty near to death. The boy tore +home one night in a state of terror, and all they could get out of him +was that he'd met Pike with a pistol. It's weeks ago, and he hasn't got +over it yet." + +"Did Pike level it at him?" + +"I tell you that's all they could get out of the boy. He's a nice +jail-bird too, that young Rip, unless I'm mistaken. They might as +well send him away, and make room for our Jim." + +"I think you are about the most fanciful, unjust, selfish woman in +Calne!" exclaimed the clerk, unable to keep down his anger any longer. +"You'd take young Ripper's character away without scruple, just because +his place might suit your Jim!" + +"I'm what?" shrieked Mrs. Jones. "I'm unjust, am I--" + +An interruption occurred, and Mrs. Jones subsided into silence. The +back-door suddenly opened, not a couple of yards from that lady's head, +and in came Mrs. Gum in her ordinary indoor dress, two basins in her +hand. The sight of her visitor appeared to occasion her surprise; she +uttered a faint scream, and nearly dropped the basins. + +"Lawk a mercy! Is it Lydia Jones?" + +Mrs. Jones had been drawing a quiet deduction--the clerk had said his +wife was out only to deceive her. She rose from her chair, and faced him. + +"I thought you told me she was gone out?" + +The clerk coughed. He looked at his wife, as if asking an explanation. +The meeker of the two women hastily put her basins down, and stood +looking from one to the other, apparently recovering breath. + +"Didn't you go out?" asked the clerk. + +"I was going, Gum, but stepped out first to collect my basins, and then +the rain came down. I had to shelter under the wood-shed, it was +peppering so." + +"Collect your basins!" interjected Mrs. Jones. "Where from?" + +"I put them out with scraps for the cats." + +"The cats must be well off in your quarter; better than some children in +others," was the rejoinder, delivered with an unnecessary amount of +spite. "What makes you so out of breath?" she tartly asked. + +"I had a bit of a fright," said the woman, simply. "My breath seems to +get affected at nothing of late, Lydia." + +"A pity but you'd your hands full of work, as mine are: that's the best +remedy for fright," said Mrs. Jones sarcastically. "What might your +fright have been, pray?" + +"I was standing, waiting to dart over here, when I saw a man come across +the waste land and make for Pike's shed," said Mrs. Gum, looking at her +husband. "It gave me a turn. We've never seen a soul go near the place of +an evening since Pike has been there." + +"Why should it give you a turn?" asked Mrs. Jones, who was in a mood +to contradict everything. "You've seen Pike often enough not to be +frightened at him when he keeps his distance." + +"It wasn't Pike, Lydia. The man had an umbrella over him, and he looked +like a gentleman. Fancy Pike with an umbrella!" + +"Was it Mr. Hillary?" interposed the clerk. + +She shook her head. "I don't think so; but it was getting too dark to +see. Any way, it gave me a turn; and he's gone right up to Pike's shed." + +"Gave you a turn, indeed!" scornfully repeated Mrs. Jones. "I think +you're getting more of an idiot every day, Nance. It's to be hoped +somebody's gone to take him up; that's what is to be hoped." + +But Mr. Hillary it was. Hearing nothing from Jabez Gum all day, he had +come to the conclusion that that respectable man had ignored his promise, +and, unable to divest himself of the idea that Pike was ill, in the +evening, having a minute to spare, he went forth to see for himself. + +The shed-door was closed, but not fastened, and Mr. Hillary went in at +once without ceremony. A lighted candle shed its rays around the rude +dwelling-room: and the first thing he saw was a young man, who did not +look in the least like Pike, stretched upon a mattress; the second was a +bushy black wig and appurtenances lying on a chair; and the third was a +formidable-looking pistol, conveniently close to the prostrate invalid. + +Quick as thought, the surgeon laid his hand upon the pistol and removed +it to a safe distance. He then bent over the sick man, examining him with +his penetrating eyes; and what he saw struck him with consternation so +great, that he sat down on a chair to recover himself, albeit not liable +to be overcome by emotion. + +When he left the shed--which was not for nearly half-an-hour after he had +entered it--he heard voices at Clerk Gum's front-door. The storm was +over, and their visitor was departing. Mr. Hillary took a moment's +counsel with himself, then crossed the stile and appeared amongst them. +Nodding to the three collectively, he gravely addressed the clerk and his +wife. + +"I have come here to ask, in the name of our common humanity, whether you +will put aside your prejudices, and be Christians in a case of need," he +began. "I don't forget that once, when an epidemic was raging in Calne, +you"--turning to the wife--"were active and fearless, going about and +nursing the sick when almost all others held aloof. Will you do the same +now by a helpless man?" + +The woman trembled all over. Clerk Gum looked questioningly at the +doctor. Mrs. Jones was taking in everything with eyes and ears. + +"This neighbour of yours has caught the fever. Some one must attend to +him, or he will lie there and die. I thought perhaps you'd do it, Mrs. +Gum, for our Saviour's sake--if from no other motive." + +She trembled excessively. "I always was terribly afraid of that man, sir, +since he came," said she, with marked hesitation. + +"But he cannot harm you now. I don't ask you to go in to him one day +after he is well again--if he recovers. Neither need you be with him +as a regular nurse: only step in now and then to give him his physic, +or change the wet cloths on his burning head." + +Mrs. Jones found her voice. The enormous impudence of the surgeon's +request had caused its temporary extinction. + +"I'd see Pike in his coffin before I'd go a-nigh him as a nurse! What on +earth will you be asking next, Mr. Hillary?" + +"I didn't ask you, Mrs. Jones: you have your children to attend to; full +employment for one pair of arms. Mrs. Gum has nothing to do with her +time; and is near at hand besides. Gum, you stand in your place by Dr. +Ashton every Sunday, and read out to us of the loving mercy of God: will +you urge your wife to this little work of charity for His sake?" + +Jabez Gum evidently did not know what to answer. On the one hand, he +could hardly go against the precepts he had to respond to as clerk; on +the other, there was his scorn and hatred of the disreputable Arab. + +"He's such a loose character, sir," he debated at length. + +"Possibly: when he is well. But he is ill now, and could not be loose if +he tried. Some one _must_ go in now and then to see after him: it struck +me that perhaps your wife would do it, for humanity's sake; and I thought +I'd ask her before going further." + +"She can do as she likes," said Jabez. + +Mrs. Gum--as unresisting in her nature as ever was Percival +Elster--yielded to the prayer of the surgeon, and said she would do +what she could. But she had never shown more nervousness over anything +than she was showing as she gave her answer. + +"Then I will step indoors and give you a few plain directions," said the +surgeon. "Mrs. Jones has taken her departure, I perceive." + +Mrs. Gum was as good as her word, and went in with dire trepidation. +Calne's sentiments, on the whole, resembled Mrs. Jones's, and the woman +was blamed for her yielding nature. But she contrived, with the help of +Mr. Hillary's skill, to bring the man through the fever; and it was very +singular that no other person out of the Rectory took it. + +The last one to take it at the Rectory was Mrs. Ashton. Of the three +servants who had it, one had died; the other two recovered. Mrs. Ashton +did not take it until the rest were well, and she had it lightly. Anne +nursed her and would do so; and it was an additional reason for +prolonging the veto against Lord Hartledon. + +One morning in December, Val, in passing down the road, saw the Rectory +turned, as he called it, inside out. Every window was thrown open; +curtains were taken down; altogether there seemed to be a comprehensive +cleaning going on. At that moment Mr. Hillary passed, and Val arrested +him, pointing to the Rectory. + +"Yes, they are having a cleansing and purification. The family went away +this morning." + +"Went where?" exclaimed Hartledon, in amazement. + +"Dr. Ashton has taken a cottage near Ventnor." + +"Had Mrs. Ashton quite recovered?" + +"Quite: or they would not have gone. The Rectory has had a clean bill of +health for some time past." + +"Then why did they not let me know it?" exclaimed Val, in his +astonishment and anger. + +"Perhaps you didn't ask," said the surgeon. "But no visitors were sought. +Time enough for that when the house shall have been fumigated." + +"They might have sent to me," he cried, in resentment. "To go away and +never let me know it!" + +"They may have thought you were too agreeably engaged to care to be +disturbed," remarked the surgeon. + +"What do you mean?" demanded Val, hotly. + +Mr. Hillary laughed. "People will talk, you know; and rumour has it that +Lord Hartledon has found attractions in his own home, whilst the Rectory +was debarred to him." + +Val wheeled round on his heel, and walked away in displeasure. Home +truths are never palatable. But the kindly disposition of the man resumed +its sway immediately: he turned back, and pointed to the shed. + +"Is that interesting patient of yours on his legs again?" + +"He is getting better. The disease attacked him fiercely and was +unusually prolonged. It's strange he should have been the only one to +take it." + +"Gum's wife has been nursing him, I hear?" + +"She has gone in and out to do such necessary offices as the sick +require. I put it to her from a Christian point of view, you see, and on +the score of humanity. She was at hand; and that's a great thing where +the nurse is only a visiting one." + +"Look here, Hillary; don't let the man want for anything; see that he has +all he needs. He is a black sheep, no doubt; but illness levels us all to +one standard. Good day." + +"Good day, Lord Hartledon." + +And when the surgeon had got to a distance with his quick step, Lord +Hartledon turned back to the Rectory. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +VAL'S DILEMMA. + + +It was a mild day in spring. The air was balmy, but the skies were grey +and lowering; and as a gentleman strolled across a field adjoining +Hartledon Park he looked up at them more than once, as if asking whether +they threatened rain. + +Not that he had any great personal interest in the question. Whether the +skies gave forth sunshine or rain is of little moment to a mind not at +rest. He had only looked up in listlessness. A stranger might have taken +him at a distance for a gamekeeper: his coat was of velveteen; his boots +were muddy: but a nearer inspection would have removed the impression. + +It was Lord Hartledon; but changed since you last saw him. For some time +past there had been a worn, weary look upon his face, bespeaking a mind +ill at ease; the truth is, his conscience was not at rest, and in time +that tells on the countenance. + +He had been by the fish-pond for an hour. But the fish had not shown +themselves inclined to bite, and he grew too impatient to remain. +Not altogether impatient at the wary fish, but in his own mental +restlessness. The fishing-rod was carried in his hand in pieces; and he +splashed along, in a brown study, on the wet ground, flinging himself +over the ha-ha with an ungracious movement. Some one was approaching +across the park from the house, and Lord Hartledon walked on to a gate, +and waited there for him to come up. He began beating the bars with the +thin end of the rod, and--broke it! + +"That's the way you use your fishing-rods," cried the free, pleasant +voice of the new-comer. "I shouldn't mind being appointed purveyor of +tackle to your lordship." + +The stranger was an active little man, older than Hartledon; his features +were thin, his eyes dark and luminous. I think you have heard his +name--Thomas Carr. Lord Hartledon once called him the greatest friend he +possessed on earth. He had been wont to fly to him in his past dilemmas, +and the habit was strong upon him still. A mandate that would have been +peremptory, but for the beseeching terms in which it was couched, had +reached Mr. Carr on circuit; and he had hastened across country to obey +it, reaching Hartledon the previous evening. That something was wrong, +Mr. Carr of course was aware; but what, he did not yet know. Lord +Hartledon, with his natural vacillation, his usual shrinking from the +discussion of unpleasant topics relating to himself, had not entered upon +it at all on the previous night; and when breakfast was over that +morning, Mr. Carr had craved an hour alone for letter-writing. It was the +first time Mr. Carr had visited his friend at his new inheritance; indeed +the first time he had been at all at Hartledon. Lord Hartledon seated +himself on the gate; the barrister leaned his arms on the top bar whilst +he talked to him. + +"What is the matter?" asked the latter. + +"Not much." + +"I have finished my letters, so I came out to look for you. You are not +changed, Elster." + +"What should change me in so short a time?--it's only six months since +you last saw me," retorted Hartledon, curtly. + +"I alluded to your nature. I had to worm the troubles out of you in the +old days, each one as it arose. I see I shall have to do the same now. +Don't say there's not much the matter, for I am sure there is." + +Lord Hartledon jerked his handkerchief out of his pocket, passed it over +his face, and put it back again. + +"What fresh folly have you got into?--as I used to ask you at Oxford. You +are in some mess." + +"I suppose it's of no use denying that I am in one. An awful mess, too." + +"Well, I have pulled you out of many a one in my time. Let me hear it." + +"There are some things one does not like to talk about, Carr. I sent for +you in my perplexity; but I believe you can be of no use to me." + +"So you have said before now. But it generally turned out that I was of +use to you, and cleared you from your nightmare." + +"All those were minor difficulties; this is different." + +"I cannot understand your 'not liking' to speak of things to me. Why +don't you begin?" + +"Because I shall prove myself worse than a fool. You'll despise me to +your heart's core. Carr, I think I shall go mad!" + +"Tell me the cause first, and go mad afterwards. Come, Val; I am your +true friend." + +"I have made an offer of marriage to two women," said Hartledon, +desperately plunging into the revelation. "Never was such a born idiot +in the world as I have been. I can't marry both." + +"I imagine not," quietly replied Mr. Carr. + +"You knew I was engaged to Miss Ashton?" + +"Yes." + +"And I'm sure I loved her with all my"--he seemed to hesitate for a +strong term--"might and main; and do still. But I have managed to get +into mischief elsewhere." + +"Elster's folly, as usual. What sort of mischief?" + +"The worst sort, for there can be no slipping out of it. When that fever +broke out at Doctor Ashton's--you heard us talking of it last night, +Carr--I went to the Rectory just as usual. What did I care for fever?--it +was not likely to attack me. But the countess-dowager found it out--" + +"Why do they stay here so long?" interrupted Thomas Carr. "They have been +here ever since your brother died." + +"And before it. The old woman likes her quarters, and has no settled +home. She makes a merit of stopping, and says I ought to feel under +eternal obligation to her and Maude for sacrificing themselves to a +solitary man and his household. But you should have heard the uproar +she made upon discovering I had been to the Rectory. She had my room +fumigated and my clothes burnt." + +"Foolish old creature!" + +"The best of it was, I pointed out by mistake the wrong coat, and +the offending one is upstairs now. I shall show it her some day. She +reproached me with holding her life and her daughter's dirt-cheap, and +wormed a promise out of me not to visit the Rectory as long as fever was +in it." + +"Which you gave?" + +"She wormed it out of me, I tell you. I don't know that I should have +kept it, but Dr. Ashton put in his veto also; and between the two I was +kept away. For many weeks afterwards I never saw or spoke to Anne. She +did not come out at all, even to church; they were so anxious the fever +should not spread." + +"Well? Go on, Val." + +"Well: how does that proverb run, about idleness being the root of all +evil? During those weeks I was an idle man, wretchedly bored; and I fell +into a flirtation with Maude. She began it, Carr, on my solemn word of +honour--though it's a shame to tell these tales of a woman; and I joined +in from sheer weariness, to kill time. But you know how one gets led on +in such things--or I do, if you, you cautious fellow, don't--and we both +went in pretty deep." + +"Elster's folly again! How deep?" + +"As deep as I well could, short of committing myself to a proposal. You +see the ill-luck of it was, those two and I being alone in the house. I +may as well say Maude and I alone; for the old woman kept her room very +much; she had a cold, she said, and was afraid of the fever." + +"Tush!" cried Thomas Carr angrily. "And you made love to the young lady?" + +"As fast as I could make it. What a fool I was! But I protest I only did +it in amusement; I never thought of her supplanting Anne Ashton. Now, +Carr, you are looking as you used to look at Oxford; get your brow smooth +again. You just shut up yourself for weeks with a fascinating girl, and +see if you wouldn't find yourself in some horrible entanglement, proof +against such as you think you are." + +"As I am obliged to be. I should take care not to lay myself open to the +temptation. Neither need you have done it." + +"I don't see how I was to help myself. Often and often I wished to have +visitors in the house, but the old woman met me with reproaches that I +was forgetting the recent death of my brother. She won't have any one now +if she knows it, and I had to send for you quietly. Did you see how she +stared last night when you came in?" + +Mr. Carr drew down his lips. "You might have gone away yourself, Elster." + +"Of course I might," was the testy reply. "But I was a fool, and didn't. +Carr, I swear to you I fell into the trap unconsciously; I did not +foresee danger. Maude is a charming girl, there's no denying it; but +as to love, I never glanced at it." + +"Was it not suspected in town last year that Lady Maude had a liking for +your brother?" + +"It was suspected there and here; I thought it myself. We were mistaken. +One day lately Maude offended me, and I hinted at something of the sort: +she turned red and white with indignation, saying she wished he could +rise from his grave to refute it. I only wish he could!" added the +unhappy man. + +"Have you told me all?" + +"All! I wish I had. In December I was passing the Rectory, and saw it +dismantled. Hillary, whom I met, said the family had gone to Ventnor. I +went in, but could not learn any particulars, or get the address. I +chanced a letter, written I confess in anger, directing it Ventnor only, +and it found them. Anne's answer was cool: mischief-making tongues had +been talking about me and Maude; I learned so much from Hillary; and Anne +no doubt resented it. I resented that--can you follow me, Carr?--and I +said to myself I wouldn't write again for some time to come. Before that +time came the climax had occurred." + +"And while you were waiting for your temper to come round in regard to +Miss Ashton, you continued to make love to the Lady Maude?" remarked Mr. +Carr. "On the face of things, I should say your love had been transferred +to her." + +"Indeed it hadn't. Next to Anne, she's the most charming girl I know; +that's all. Between the two it will be awful work for me." + +"So I should think," returned Mr. Carr. "The ass between two bundles of +hay was nothing to it." + +"He was not an ass at all, compared with what I am," assented Val, +gloomily. + +"Well, if a man behaves like an ass--" + +"Don't moralize," interrupted Hartledon; "but rather advise me how to get +out of my dilemma. The morning's drawing on, and I have promised to ride +with Maude." + +"You had better ride alone. All the advice I can give you is to draw back +by degrees, and so let the flirtation subside. If there is no actual +entanglement--" + +"Stop a bit, Carr; I had not come to it," interrupted Lord Hartledon, who +in point of fact had been holding back what he called the climax, in his +usual vacillating manner. "One ill-starred day, when it was pouring cats +and dogs, and I could not get out, I challenged Maude to a game at +billiards. Maude lost. I said she should pay me, and put my arm round her +waist and snatched a kiss. Just at that moment in came the dowager, who I +believe must have been listening--" + +"Not improbably," interrupted Mr. Carr, significantly. + +"'Oh, you two dear turtle-doves,' cried she, 'Hartledon, you have made me +so happy! I have seen for some weeks what you were thinking of. There's +nobody living I'd confide that dear child to but yourself: you shall have +her, and my blessing shall be upon you both.' + +"Carr," continued poor Val, "I was struck dumb. All the absurdity of the +thing rose up before me. In my confusion I could not utter a word. A man +with more moral courage might have spoken out; acknowledged the shame and +folly of his conduct and apologized. I could not." + +"Elster's folly! Elster's folly!" thought the barrister. "You never had +the slightest spark of moral courage," he observed aloud, in pained +tones. "What did you say?" + +"Nothing. There's the worst of it. I neither denied the dowager's +assumption, nor confirmed it. Of course I cannot now." + +"When was this?" + +"In December." + +"And how have things gone on since? How do you stand with them?" + +"Things have gone on as they went on before; and I stand engaged to +Maude, in her mother's opinion; perhaps in hers: never having said myself +one word to support the engagement." + +"Only continued to 'make love,' and 'snatch a kiss,'" sarcastically +rejoined Mr. Carr. + +"Once in a way. What is a man to do, exposed to the witchery of a pretty +girl?" + +"Oh, Percival! You are worse than I thought for. Where is Miss Ashton?" + +"Coming home next Friday," groaned Val. "And the dowager asked me +yesterday whether Maude and I had arranged the time for our marriage. +What on earth I shall do, I don't know. I might sail for some remote land +and convert myself into a savage, where I should never be found or +recognized; there's no other escape for me." + +"How much does Miss Ashton know of this?" + +"Nothing. I had a letter from her this morning, more kindly than her +letters have been of late." + +"Lord Hartledon!" exclaimed Mr. Carr, in startled tones. "Is it possible +that you are carrying on a correspondence with Miss Ashton, and your +love-making with Lady Maude?" + +Val nodded assent, looking really ashamed of himself. + +"And you call yourself a man of honour! Why, you are the greatest +humbug--" + +"That's enough; no need to sum it up. I see all I've been." + +"I understood you to imply that your correspondence with Miss Ashton had +ceased." + +"It was renewed. Dr. Ashton came up to preach one Sunday, just before +Christmas, and he and I got friendly again; you know I never can be +unfriendly with any one long. The next day I wrote to Anne, and we have +corresponded since; more coolly though than we used to do. Circumstances +have been really against me. Had they continued at Ventnor, I should have +gone down and spent my Christmas with them, and nothing of this would +have happened; but they must needs go to Dr. Ashton's sister's in +Yorkshire for Christmas; and there they are still. It was in that +miserable Christmas week that the mischief occurred. And now you have +the whole, Carr. I know I've been a fool; but what is to be done?" + +"Lord Hartledon," was the grave rejoinder, "I am unable to give you +advice in this. Your conduct is indefensible." + +"Don't 'Lord Hartledon' me: I won't stand it. Carr?" + +"Well?" + +"If you bring up against me a string of reproaches lasting until night +will that mend matters? I am conscious of possessing but one true friend +in the world, and that's yourself. You must stand by me." + +"I was your friend; never a truer. But I believed you to be a man of +honour." + +Hartledon lifted his hat from his brow; as though the brow alone were +heavy enough just then. At least the thought struck Mr. Carr. + +"I have been drawn unwittingly into this, as I have into other things. I +never meant to do wrong. As to dishonour, Heaven knows my nature shrinks +from it." + +"If your nature does, you don't," came the severe answer. "I should feel +ashamed to put forth the same plea always of 'falling unwittingly' into +disgrace. You have done it ever since you were a schoolboy. Talk of the +Elster folly! this has gone beyond it. This is dishonour. Engaged to one +girl, and corresponding with her; making hourly love for weeks to +another! May I inquire which of the two you really care for?" + +"Anne--I suppose." + +"You suppose!" + +"You make me wild, talking like this. Of course it's Anne. Maude has +managed to creep into my regard, though, in no common degree. She is very +lovely, very fascinating and amiable." + +"May I ask which of the two you intend to marry!" continued the +barrister, neither suppressing nor attempting to soften his indignant +tones. "As this country's laws are against a plurality of wives, you will +be unable, I imagine, to espouse them both." + +Hartledon looked at him, beseechingly, and a sudden compassion came over +Mr. Carr. He asked himself whether it was quite the way to treat a +perplexed man who was very dear to him. + +"If I am severe, it is for your sake. I assure you I scarcely know what +advice to give. It is Miss Ashton, of course, whom you intend to make +Lady Hartledon?" + +"Of course it is. The difficulty in the matter is getting clear of +Maude." + +"And the formidable countess-dowager. You must tell Maude the truth." + +"Impossible, Carr. I might have done it once; but the thing has gone on +so long. The dowager would devour me." + +"Let her try to. I should speak to Maude alone, and put her upon her +generosity to release you. Tell her you presumed upon your cousinship; +and confess that you have long been engaged to marry Miss Ashton." + +"She knows that: they have both known it all along. My brother was the +first to tell them, before he died." + +"They knew it?" inquired Mr. Carr, believing he had not heard correctly. + +"Certainly. There has been no secret made of my engagement to Anne. All +the world knows of that." + +"Then--though I do not in the least defend or excuse you--your breaking +with Lady Maude may be more pardonable. They are poor, are they not, this +Dowager Kirton and Lady Maude?" + +"Poor as Job. Hard up, I think." + +"Then they are angling for the broad lands of Hartledon. I see it all. +You have been a victim to fortune-hunting." + +"There you are wrong, Carr. I can't answer for the dowager one way or the +other; but Maude is the most disinterested--" + +"Of course: girls on the look-out for establishments always are. Have it +as you like." + +He spoke in tones of ridicule; and Hartledon jumped off the stile and led +the way home. + +That Lord Hartledon had got himself into a very serious predicament, Mr. +Carr plainly saw. His good nature, his sensitive regard for the feelings +of others, rendering it so impossible for him to say no, and above all +his vacillating disposition, were his paramount characteristics still: in +a degree they ever would be. Easily led as ever, he was as a very reed +in the hands of the crafty old woman of the world, located with him. She +had determined that he should become the husband of her daughter; and was +as certain of accomplishing her end as if she had foreseen the future. +Lord Hartledon himself afterwards, in his bitter repentance, said, over +and over again, that circumstances were against him; and they certainly +were so, as you will find. + +Lord Hartledon thought he was making headway against it now, in sending +for his old friend, and resolving to be guided by his advice. + +"I will take an opportunity of speaking to Maude, Carr," he resumed. "I +would rather not do it, of course; but I see there's no help for it." + +"Make the opportunity," said Mr. Carr, with emphasis. "Don't delay a day; +I shall expect you to write me a letter to-morrow saying you've done it." + +"But you won't leave to-day," said Hartledon, entreatingly, feeling an +instant prevision that with the departure of Thomas Carr all his courage +would ignominiously desert him. + +"I must go. You know I told you last night that my stay could only be +four-and-twenty hours. You can accomplish it whilst I am here, if you +like, and get it over; the longer a nauseous medicine is held to the lips +the more difficult it is to swallow it. You say you are going to ride +with Lady Maude presently; let that be your opportunity." + +And get it over! Words that sounded as emancipation in Val's ear. But +somehow he did not accomplish it in that ride. Excuses were on his lips +five hundred times, but his hesitating lips never formed them. He really +was on the point of speaking; at least he said so to himself; when Mr. +Hillary overtook them on horseback, and rode with them some distance. +After that, Maude put her horse to a canter, and so they reached home. + +"Well?" said Mr. Carr. + +"Not yet," answered Hartledon; "there was no opportunity." + +"My suggestion was to make your opportunity." + +"And so I will. I'll speak to her either to-night or to-morrow. She chose +to ride fast to-day; and Hillary joined us part of the way. Don't look as +if you doubted me, Carr: I shall be sure to speak." + +"Will he?" thought Thomas Carr, as he took his departure by the evening +train, having promised to run down the following Saturday for a few +hours. "It is an even bet, I think. Poor Val!" + +Poor Val indeed! Vacillating, attractive, handsome Val! shrinking, +sensitive Val! The nauseous medicine was never taken. And when the +Ashtons returned to the Rectory on the Friday night he had not spoken. + +And the very day of their return a rumour reached his ear that Mrs. +Ashton's health was seriously if not fatally shattered, and she was +departing immediately for the South of France. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BETWEEN THE TWO. + + +Not in the Rectory drawing-room, but in a pretty little sitting-room +attached to her bed-chamber, where the temperature was regulated, and no +draughts could penetrate, reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her invalid gown sat +loosely upon her shrunken form, her delicate, lace cap shaded a fading +face. Anne sat by her side in all her loveliness, ostensibly working; but +her fingers trembled, and her face looked flushed and pained. + +It was the morning after their return, and Mrs. Graves had called in to +see Mrs. Ashton--gossiping Mrs. Graves, who knew all that took place in +the parish, and a great deal of what never did take place. She had just +been telling it all unreservedly in her hard way; things that might be +said, and things that might as well have been left unsaid. She went out +leaving a whirr and a buzz behind her and an awful sickness of desolation +upon one heart. + +"Give me my little writing-case, Anne," said Mrs. Ashton, waking up from +a reverie and sitting forward on her sofa. + +Anne took the pretty toy from the side-table, opened it, and laid it on +the table before her mother. + +"Is it nothing I can write for you, mamma?" + +"No, child." + +Anne bent her hot face over her work again. It had not occurred to her +that it could concern herself; and Mrs. Ashton wrote a few rapid lines: + + "My Dear Percival, + + "Can you spare me a five-minutes' visit? I wish to speak with you. We + go away again on Monday. + + "Ever sincerely yours, + + "Catherine Ashton." + +She folded it, enclosed it in an envelope, and addressed it to the Earl +of Hartledon. Pushing away the writing-table, she held out the note to +her daughter. + +"Seal it for me, Anne. I am tired. Let it go at once." + +"Mamma!" exclaimed Anne, as her eye caught the address. "Surely you are +not writing to him! You are not asking him to come here?" + +"You see that I am writing to him, Anne. And it is to ask him to come +here. My dear, you may safely leave me to act according to my own +judgment. But as to what Mrs. Graves has said, I don't believe a word +of it." + +"I scarcely think I do," murmured Anne; a smile hovering on her troubled +countenance, like sunshine after rain. + +Anne had the taper alight, and the wax held to it, the note ready in her +hand, when the room-door was thrown open by Mrs. Ashton's maid. + +"Lord Hartledon." + +He came in in a hurried manner, talking fast, making too much fuss; it +was unlike his usual quiet movements, and Mrs. Ashton noticed it. As he +shook hands with her, she held the note before him. + +"See, Percival! I was writing to ask you to call upon me." + +Anne had put out the light, and her hand was in Lord Hartledon's before +she well knew anything, save that her heart was beating tumultuously. +Mrs. Ashton made a place for him on the sofa, and Anne quietly left the +room. + +"I should have been here earlier," he began, "but I had the steward with +me on business; it is little enough I have attended to since my brother's +death. Dear Mrs. Ashton! I grieve to hear this poor account of you. You +are indeed looking ill." + +"I am so ill, Percival, that I doubt whether I shall ever be better in +this world. It is my last chance, this going away to a warmer place until +winter has passed." + +He was bending towards her in earnest sympathy, all himself again; his +dark blue eyes very tender, his pleasant features full of concern as he +gazed on her face. And somehow, looking at that attractive countenance, +Mrs. Ashton's doubts went from her. + +"But what I have said is to you alone," she resumed. "My husband and +children do not see the worst, and I refrain from telling them. A little +word of confidence between us, Val." + +"I hope and trust you may come back cured!" he said, very fervently. "Is +it the fever that has so shattered you?" + +"It is the result of it. I have never since been able to recover +strength, but have become weaker and more weak. And you know I was +in ill health before. We leave on Monday morning for Cannes." + +"For Cannes?" he exclaimed. + +"Yes. A place not so warm as some I might have gone to; but the doctors +say that will be all the better. It is not heat I need; only shelter from +our cold northern winds until I can get a little strength into me. +There's nothing the matter with my lungs; indeed, I don't know that +anything is the matter with me except this terrible weakness." + +"I suppose Anne goes with you?" + +"Oh yes. I could not go without Anne. The doctor will see us settled +there, and then he returns." + +A thought crossed Lord Hartledon: how pleasant if he and Anne could have +been married, and have made this their wedding tour. He did not speak it: +Mrs. Ashton would have laughed at his haste. + +"How long shall you remain away?" he asked. + +"Ah, I cannot tell you. I may not live to return. If all goes well--that +is, if there should be a speedy change for the better, as the medical men +who have been attending me think there may be--I shall be back perhaps in +April or May. Val--I cannot forget the old familiar name, you see--" + +"I hope you never will forget it," he warmly interposed. + +"I wanted very particularly to see you. A strange report was brought +here this morning and I determined to mention it to you. You know what +an old-fashioned, direct way I have of doing things; never choosing a +roundabout road if I can take a straight one. This note was a line asking +you to call upon me," she added, taking it from her lap, where it had +been lying, and tossing it on to the table, whilst her hearer, his +conscience rising up, began to feel a very little uncomfortable. "We +heard you had proposed marriage to Lady Maude Kirton." + +Lord Hartledon's face became crimson. "Who on earth could have invented +that?" cried he, having no better answer at hand. + +"Mrs. Graves mentioned it to me. She was dining at Hartledon last week, +and the countess-dowager spoke about it openly." + +Mrs. Ashton looked at him; and he, confused and taken aback, looked down +on the carpet, devoutly wishing himself in the remote regions he had +spoken of to Mr. Carr. Anywhere, so that he should never be seen or +recognized again. + +"What am I to do?" thought he. "I wish Mother Graves was hanged!" + +"You do not speak, Percival!" + +"Well, I--I was wondering what could have given rise to this," he +stammered. "I believe the old dowager would like to see her daughter +mistress of Hartledon: and suppose she gave utterance to her thoughts." + +"Very strange that she should!" observed Mrs. Ashton. + +"I think she's a little cracked sometimes," coughed Val; and, in truth, +he now and then did think so. "I hope you have not told Anne?" + +"I have told no one. And had I not felt sure it had no foundation, I +should have told the doctor, not you. But Anne was in the room when Mrs. +Graves mentioned it." + +"What a blessing it would be if Mrs. Graves were out of the parish!" +exclaimed Val, hotly. "I wonder Dr. Ashton keeps Graves on, with such a +mother! No one ever had such a mischief-making tongue as hers." + +"Percival, may I say something to you?" asked Mrs. Ashton, who was +devouring him with her eyes. "Your manner would almost lead me to believe +that there _is_ something in it. Tell me the truth; I can never be +anything but your friend." + +"Believe one thing, dear Mrs. Ashton--that I have no intention of +marrying anyone but Anne; and I wish with all my heart and soul you'd +give her to me to-day. Shut up with those two women, the one pretty, the +other watching any chance word to turn it to her own use, I dare say the +Mrs. Graveses of the place have talked, forgetting that Maude is my +cousin. I believe I paid some attention to Maude because I was angry +at being kept out of the Rectory; but my attentions meant nothing, upon +my honour." + +"Elster's folly, Val! Lady Maude may have thought they did." + +"At any rate she knew of my engagement to Anne." + +"Then there is nothing in it?" + +"There shall be nothing in it," was the emphatic answer. "Anne was my +first love, and she will be my last. You must promise to give her to me +as soon as you return from Cannes." + +"About that you must ask her father. I dare say he will do so." + +Lord Hartledon rose from his seat; held Mrs. Ashton's hand between his +whilst he said his adieu, and stooped to kiss her with a son's affection. +She was a little surprised to find it was his final farewell. They were +not going to start until Monday. But Hartledon could not have risked that +cross-questioning again; rather would he have sailed away for the savage +territories at once. He went downstairs searching for Anne, and found her +in the room where you first saw her--her own. She looked up with quite an +affectation of surprise when he entered, although she had probably gone +there to await him. The best of girls are human. + +"You ran away, Anne, whilst mamma and I held our conference?" + +"I hope it has been satisfactory," she answered demurely, not looking up, +and wondering whether he suspected how violently her heart was beating. + +"Partly so. The end was all right. Shall I tell it you?" + +"The end! Yes, if you will," she replied unsuspectingly. + +"The decision come to is, that a certain young friend of ours is to be +converted, with as little delay as circumstances may permit, into Lady +Hartledon." + +Of course there came no answer except a succession of blushes. Anne's +work, which she had carried with her, took all her attention just then. + +"Can you guess her name, Anne?" + +"I don't know. Is it Maude Kirton?" + +He winced. "If you have been told that abominable rubbish, Anne, it is +not necessary to repeat it. It's not so pleasant a theme that you need +make a joke of it." + +"Is it rubbish?" asked Anne, lifting her eyes. + +"I think you ought to know that if any one does. But had anything +happened, Anne, recollect it would have been your fault. You have been +very cool to me of late. You forbid me the house for weeks and weeks; you +went away for an indefinite period without letting me know, or giving me +the chance of seeing you; and when the correspondence was at length +renewed, your letters were cold and formal--quite different from what +they used to be. It almost looks as if you wished to part from me." + +Repentance was stealing over her: why had she ever doubted him? + +"And now you are going away again! And although this interview may be +our last for months, you scarcely deign to give me a word or a look of +farewell." + +Anne had already been terribly tried by Mrs. Graves: this was the climax: +she lost her self-control and burst into tears. Lord Hartledon was +softened at once. He took her two hands in his; he clasped her to his +heart, half devouring her face with passionate kisses. Ah, Lady Maude! +this impassioned love was never felt for you. + +"You don't love her?" whispered Anne. + +"Love her! I never loved but you, my best and dearest. I never shall, or +can, love another." + +He spoke in all good faith; fully believing what he said; and it was +indeed true. And Anne? As though a prevision had been upon her of the +future, she remained passively in his arms sobbing hysterically, and +suffering his kisses; not drawing away from him in maiden modesty, as +was her wont. She had never clung to him like this. + +"You will write to me often?" he whispered. + +"Yes. Won't you come to Cannes?" + +"I don't know that it will be possible, unless you remain beyond the +spring. And should that be the case, Anne, I shall pray your father and +mother that the marriage may take place there. I am going up to town next +month to take my seat in the House. It will be a busy session; and I want +to see if I can't become a useful public man. I think it would please the +doctor to find I've some stuff in me; and a man must have a laudable +object in life." + +"I would rather die," murmured Anne, passionately in her turn, "than hear +again what Mrs. Graves said." + +"My darling, we cannot stop people's gossip. Believe in me; I will not +fail you. Oh, Anne, I wish you were already my wife!" he aspirated +fervently, his perplexities again presenting themselves to his mind. + +"The time will come," she whispered. + +Lord Hartledon walked home full of loyal thought, saying to himself what +an utter idiot he had been in regard to Maude, and determined to lose no +time in getting clear of the entanglement. He sought an opportunity of +speaking to her that afternoon; he really did; but could not find it. The +dowager had taken her out to pay a visit. + +Mr. Carr was as good as his word, and got down in time for dinner. One +glance at Lord Hartledon's face told him what he half expected to +see--that the word of emancipation had not yet been spoken. + +"Don't blame me, Carr. I shall speak to-night before I sleep, on my word +of honour. Things have come to a crisis now; and if I wished to hold back +I could not. I would say what a fool I have been not to speak before; +only you know I'm one already." + +Thomas Carr laughed. + +"Mrs. Ashton has heard some tattle about Maude, and spoke to me this +afternoon. Of course I could only deny it, my face feeling on fire with +its sense of dishonour, for I don't think I ever told a deliberate lie in +my life; and--and, in short, I should like my marriage with Anne to take +place as soon as possible." + +"Well, there's only one course to pursue, as I told you when I was down +before. Tell Lady Maude the candid truth, and take shame and blame to +yourself, as you deserve. Her having known of the engagement to Miss +Ashton renders your task the easier." + +Very restless was Lord Hartledon until the moment came. He knew the best +time to speak to Maude would be immediately after dinner, whilst the +countess-dowager took her usual nap. There was no hesitation now; and he +speedily followed them upstairs, leaving his friend at the dinner-table. + +He went up, feeling a desperate man. To those of his temperament having +to make a disagreeable communication such as this is almost as cruel as +parting with life. + +No one was in the drawing-room but Lady Kirton--stretched upon a sofa and +apparently fast asleep. Val crossed the carpet with softened tread to the +adjoining rooms: small, comfortable rooms, used by the dowager in +preference to the more stately rooms below. Maude had drawn aside the +curtain and was peering out into the frosty night. + +"Why, how soon you are up!" she cried, turning at his entrance. + +"I came on purpose, Maude. I want to speak to you." + +"Are you well?" she asked, coming forward to the fire, and taking her +seat on a sofa. In truth, he did not look very well just then. "What is +it?" + +"Maude," he answered, his fair face flushing a dark red as he plunged +into it blindfold: "I am a rogue and a fool!" + +Lady Maude laughed. "Elster's folly!" + +"Yes. You know all this time that we--that I--" (Val thought he should +never flounder through this first moment, and did not remain an instant +in one place as he talked)--"have been going on so foolishly, I +was--almost as good as a married man." + +"Were you?" said she, quietly. "Married to whom?" + +"I said as good as married, Maude. You know I have been engaged for years +to Miss Ashton; otherwise I would have _knelt_ to ask you to become my +wife, so earnestly should I desire it." + +Her calm imperturbability presented a curious contrast to his agitation. +She was regarding him with an amused smile. + +"And, Maude, I have come now to ask you to release me. Indeed, I--" + +"What's all this about?" broke in the countess-dowager, darting upon +the conference, her face flushed and her head-dress awry. "Are you two +quarrelling?" + +"Val was attempting to explain something about Miss Ashton," answered +Maude, rising from the sofa, and drawing herself up to her stately +height. "He had better do it to you instead, mamma; I don't understand +it." + +She stood up by the mantelpiece, in the ray of the lustres. They fell +across her dark, smooth hair, her flushed cheeks, her exquisite features. +Her dress was of flowing white crepe, with jet ornaments; and Lord +Hartledon, even in the midst of his perplexity, thought how beautiful she +was, and what a sad thing it was to lose her. The truth was, his senses +had been caught by the girl's beauty although his heart was elsewhere. +It is a very common case. + +"The fact is, ma'am," he stammered, turning to the dowager in his +desperation, "I have been behaving very foolishly of late, and am asking +your daughter's pardon. I should have remembered my engagement to Miss +Ashton." + +"Remembered your engagement to Miss Ashton!" echoed the dowager, her +voice becoming a little shrill. "What engagement?" + +Lord Hartledon began to recover himself, though he looked foolish still. +With these nervous men it is the first plunge that tells; get that over +and they are brave as their fellows. + +"I cannot marry two women, Lady Kirton, and I am bound to Anne." + +The old dowager's voice toned down, and she pulled her black feathers +straight upon her head. + +"My dear Hartledon, I don't think you know what you are talking about. +You engaged yourself to Maude some weeks ago." + +"Well--but--whatever may have passed, engagement or no engagement, I +could not legally do it," returned the unhappy young man, too considerate +to say the engagement was hers, not his. "You knew I was bound to Anne, +Lady Kirton." + +"Bound to a fiddlestick!" said the dowager. "Excuse my plainness, +Hartledon. When you engaged yourself to the young woman you were poor and +a nobody, and the step was perhaps excusable. Lord Hartledon is not bound +by the promises of Val Elster. All the young women in the kingdom, who +have parsons for fathers, could not oblige him to be so." + +"I am bound to her in honour; and"--in love he was going to say, but let +the words die away unspoken. + +"Hartledon, you are bound in honour to my daughter; you have sought her +affections, and gained them. Ah, Percival, don't you know that it is you +she has loved all along? In the days when I was worrying her about your +brother, she cared only for you. You cannot be so infamous as to desert +her." + +"I wish to Heaven she had never seen me!" cried the unfortunate man, +beginning to wonder whether he could break through these trammels. "I'd +sacrifice myself willingly, if that would put things straight." + +"You cannot sacrifice Maude. Look at her!" and the crafty old dowager +flourished her hand towards the fireplace, where Maude stood in all her +beauty. "A daughter of the house of Kirton cannot be taken up and cast +aside at will. What would the world say of her?" + +"The world need never know." + +"Not know!" shrieked the dowager; "not know! Why, her trousseau is +ordered, and some of the things have arrived. Good Heavens, Hartledon, +you dare not trifle with Maude in this way. You could never show your +face amongst men again." + +"But neither dare I trifle with Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon, +completely broken down by the gratuitous information. He saw that the +situation was worse than even he had bargained for, and all his +irresolution began to return upon him. "If I knew what was right +to be done, I'm sure I'd do it." + +"Right, did you say? Right? There cannot be a question about that. Which +is the more fitting to grace your coronet: Maude, or a country parson's +daughter?" + +"I'm sure if this goes on I shall shoot myself," cried Val. "Taken to +task at the Rectory, taken to task here--shooting would be bliss to it." + +"No doubt," returned the dowager. "It can't be a very pleasant position +for you. Any one but you would get out of it, and set the matter at +rest." + +"I should like to know how." + +"So long as you are a single man they naturally remain on the high ropes +at the Rectory, with their fine visions for Anne--" + +"I wish you would understand once for all, Lady Kirton, that the Ashtons +are our equals in every way," he interrupted: "and," he added, "in worth +and goodness infinitely our superiors." + +The dowager gave a sniff. "You think so, I know, Hart. Well, the only +plan to bring you peace is this: make Maude your wife. At once; without +delay." + +The proposition took away Val's breath. "I could not do it, Lady Kirton. +To begin with, they'd bring an action against me for breach of promise." + +"Breach of nonsense!" wrathfully returned the dowager. "Was ever such +a thing heard of yet, as a doctor of divinity bringing an action of that +nature? He'd lose his gown." + +"I wish I was at the bottom of a deep well, never to come up again!" +mentally aspirated the unfortunate man. + +"Will--you--marry--Maude?" demanded the dowager, with a fixed +denunciation in every word, which was as so much slow torture to her +victim. + +"I wish I could. You must see for yourself, Lady Kirton, that I cannot. +Maude must see it." + +"I see nothing of the sort. You are bound to her in honour." + +"All I can do is to remain single to the end of my days," said Val, after +a pause. "I have been a great villain to both, and I cannot repair it to +either. The one stands in the way of the other." + +"But--" + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he interrupted, so peremptorily that the old +woman trembled for her power. "This is my final decision, and I will not +hear another word. I feel ready to hang myself, as it is. You tell me I +cannot marry any other than Maude without being a scoundrel; the same +thing precisely applies to Anne. I shall remain single." + +"You will give me one promise--for Maude's sake. Not, after this, to +marry Anne Ashton." + +"Why, how can I do it?" asked he, in tones of exasperation. "Don't you +see that it is impossible? I shall not see the Ashtons again, ma'am; I +would rather go a hundred miles the other way than face them." + +The countess-dowager probably deemed she had said sufficient for safety; +for she went out and shut the door after her. Lord Hartledon dashed his +hair from his brow with a hasty hand, and was about to leave the room by +the other door, when Maude came up to him. + +"Is this to be the end of it, Percival?" + +She spoke in tones of pain, of tremulous tenderness; all her pride gone +out of her. Lord Hartledon laid his hand upon her shoulder, meeting the +dark eyes that were raised to his through tears. + +"Do you indeed love me like this, Maude? Somehow I never thought it." + +"I love you better than the whole world. I love you enough to give up +everything for you." + +The emphasis conveyed a reproach--that he did not "give up everything" +for her. But Lord Hartledon kept his head for once. + +"Heaven knows my bitter repentance. If I could repair this folly of mine +by any sacrifice on my own part, I would gladly do it. Let me go, Maude! +I have been here long enough, unless I were more worthy. I would ask you +to forgive me if I knew how to frame the petition." + +She released the hand of which she had made a prisoner--released it with +a movement of petulance; and Lord Hartledon quitted the room, the words +she had just spoken beating their refrain on his brain. It did not occur +to him in his gratified vanity to remember that Anne Ashton, about whose +love there could be no doubt, never avowed it in those pretty speeches. + +"Well?" said Mr. Carr, when he got back to the dining-room. + +"It is not well, Carr; it is ill. There can be no release. The old +dowager won't have it." + +"But surely you will not resign Miss Ashton for Lady Maude!" cried the +barrister, after a pause of amazement. + +"I resign both; I see that I cannot do anything else in honour. Excuse +me, Carr, but I'd rather not say any more about it just now; I feel half +maddened." + +"Elster's folly," mentally spoke Thomas Carr. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +AN AGREEABLE WEDDING. + + +That circumstances, combined with the countess-dowager, worked terribly +against Lord Hartledon, events proved. Had the Ashtons remained at the +Rectory all might have been well; but they went away, and he was left to +any influence that might be brought to bear upon him. + +How the climax was accomplished the world never knew. Lord Hartledon +himself did not know the whole of it for a long while. As if unwilling to +trust himself longer in dangerous companionship, he went up to town with +Thomas Carr. Whilst there he received a letter from Cannes, written by +Dr. Ashton; a letter that angered him. + +It was a cool letter, a vein of contemptuous anger running through it; +meant to be hidden, but nevertheless perceptible to Lord Hartledon. Its +purport was to forbid all correspondence between him and Miss Ashton: +things had better "remain in abeyance" until they met, ran the words, +"if indeed any relations were ever renewed between them again." + +It might have angered Lord Hartledon more than it did, but for the +hopelessness which had taken up its abode within him. Nevertheless he +resented it. He did not suppose it possible that the Ashtons could have +heard of the dilemma he was in, or that he should be unable to fulfil his +engagement with Anne, having with his usual vacillation put off any +explanation with them; which of course must come sometime. He had taken +an idea into his head long before, that Dr. Ashton wished to part them, +and he looked upon the letter as resulting from that. Hartledon was +feeling weary of the world. + +How little did he divine that the letter of the doctor was called forth +by a communication from the countess-dowager. An artful communication, +with a charming candour lying on its surface. She asked--she actually +asked that Dr. Ashton would allow "fair play;" she said the "deepest +affection" had grown up between Lord Hartledon and Lady Maude; and she +only craved that the young man might not be coerced either way, but might +be allowed to choose between them. The field after Miss Ashton's return +would be open to the two, and ought to be left so. + +You may imagine the effect this missive produced upon the proud, +high-minded doctor of divinity. He took a sheet of paper and wrote a +stinging letter to Lord Hartledon, forbidding him to think again of Anne. +But when he was in the act of sealing it a sudden doubt like an instinct +rushed over him, whether it might not be a ruse, and nothing else, of the +crafty old dowager's. The doubt was sufficiently strong to cause him to +tear up the letter. But he was not satisfied with Lord Hartledon's own +behaviour; had not been for some few months; and he then wrote a second +letter, suspending matters until they should meet again. It was in effect +what was asked for by the countess-dowager; and he wrote a cold proud +letter to that lady, stating what he had done. Of course any honourable +woman--any woman with a spark of justice in her heart--would have also +forbidden all intercourse with Lady Maude. The countess-dowager's policy +lay in the opposite direction. + +But Lord Hartledon remained in London, utterly oblivious to the hints and +baits held out for his return to Calne. He chiefly divided his time +between the House of Lords and sitting at home, lamenting over his own +ill-starred existence. He was living quite en garcon, with only one man, +his house having been let for the season. We always want what we cannot +obtain, and because marriage was denied him, he fell into the habit of +dwelling upon it as the only boon in life. Thomas Carr was on circuit, +so that Hartledon was alone. + +Easter was early that year, the latter end of March. On the Monday in +Passion-week there arrived a telegram for Lord Hartledon sent apparently +by the butler, Hedges. It was vaguely worded; spoke of a railway accident +and somebody dying. Who he could not make out, except that it was a +Kirton: and it prayed him to hasten down immediately. All his goodness of +heart aroused, Val lost not a moment. He had been engaged to spend Easter +with some people in Essex, but dispatched a line of apology, and hastened +down to Calne, wondering whether it was the dowager or Maude, and whether +death would have taken place before his arrival. + +"What accident has there been?" he demanded, leaping out of the carriage +at Calne Station; and the man he addressed happened to be the porter, +Jones. + +"Accident?" returned Jones, touching his cap. + +"An accident on the line; somewhere about here, I conclude. People +wounded; dying." + +"There has been no accident here," said Jones, in his sulky way. "Maybe +your lordship's thinking of the one on the branch line, the bridge that +fell in?" + +"Nonsense," said Lord Hartledon, "that took place a fortnight ago. I +received a telegram this morning from my butler, saying some one was +dying at Hartledon from a railway accident," he impatiently added. "I +took it to be either Lady Kirton or her daughter." + +Mr. Jones swung round a large iron key he held in his hand, and light +dawned upon him. + +"I know now," he said. "There was a private accident at the station here +last night; your lordship must mean that. A gentleman got out of a +carriage before it stopped, and fell between the rail and the platform. +His name was Kirton. I saw it on his portmanteau." + +"Lord Kirton?" + +"No, my lord. Captain Kirton." + +"Was he seriously hurt?" + +"Well, it was thought so. Mr. Hillary feared the leg would have to come +off. He was carried to Hartledon." + +Very much relieved, Lord Hartledon jumped into a fly and was driven home. +The countess-dowager embraced him and fell into hysterics. + +The crafty old dowager, whose displayed emotion was as genuine as she +was! She had sent for this son of hers, hoping he might be a decoy-duck +to draw Hartledon home again, for she was losing heart; and the accident, +which she had not bargained for, was a very god-send to her. + +"Why don't you word your telegrams more clearly, Hedges?" asked Lord +Hartledon of his butler. + +"It wasn't me worded it at all, my lord. Lady Kirton went to the station +herself. She informed me she had sent it in my name." + +"Has Hillary told you privately what the surgeons think of the case?" + +"Better of it than they did at first, my lord. They are trying to save +the leg." + +This Captain Kirton was really the best of the Kirton bunch: a quiet, +unassuming young man, somewhat delicate in health. Lord Hartledon was +grieved for his accident, and helped to nurse him with the best heart +in the world. + +And now what devilry (there were people in Calne who called it nothing +less) the old countess-dowager set afloat to secure her ends I am unable +to tell you. She was a perfectly unscrupulous woman--poverty had rendered +her wits keen; and her captured lion was only feebly struggling to escape +from the net. He was to blame also. Thrown again into the society of +Maude and her beauty, Val basked in its sunshine, and went drifting down +the stream, never heeding where the current led him. One day the +countess-dowager put it upon his honour--he must marry Maude. He might +have held out longer but for a letter that came from some friend of the +dowager's opportunely located at Cannes; a letter that spoke of the +approaching marriage of Miss Ashton to Colonel Barnaby, eldest son of a +wealthy old baronet, who was sojourning there with his mother. No doubt +was implied or expressed; the marriage was set forth as an assured fact. + +"And I believe you meant to wait for her?" said the countess-dowager, as +she put the letter into his hand, with a little laugh. "You are free now +for my darling Maude." + +"This may not be true," observed Lord Hartledon, with compressed lips. +"Every one knows what this sort of gossip is worth." + +"I happen to know that it is true," spoke Lady Kirton, in a whisper. "I +have known of it for some time past, but would not vex you with it." + +Well, she convinced him; and from that moment had it all her own way, and +carried out her plots and plans according to her own crafty fancy. Lord +Hartledon yielded; for the ascendency of Maude was strong upon him. And +yet--and yet--whilst he gave all sorts of hard names to Anne Ashton's +perfidy, lying down deep in his heart was a suspicion that the news was +not true. How he hated himself for his wicked assumption of belief in +after-years! + +"You will be free as air," said the dowager, joyously. "You and Maude +shall get ahead of Miss Ashton and her colonel, and have the laugh at +them. The marriage shall be on Saturday, and you can go away together for +months if you like, and get up your spirits again; I'm sure you have both +been dull enough." + +Lord Hartledon was certainly caught by the words "free as air;" as he had +been once before. But he stared at the early day mentioned. + +"Marriages can't be got up as soon as that." + +"They can be got up in a day if people choose, with a special license; +which, of course, you will have," said the dowager. "I'll arrange things, +my dear Val; leave it all to me. I intend Maude to be married in the +little chapel." + +"What little chapel?" + +"Your own private chapel." + +Lord Hartledon stared with all his eyes. The private chapel, built out +from the house on the side next Calne, had not been used for years and +years. + +"Why, it's all dust and rust inside; its cushions moth-eaten and fallen +to pieces." + +"Is it all dust and rust!" returned the dowager. "That shows how +observant you are. I had it put in order whilst you were in London; it +was a shame to let a sacred place remain in such a state. I should like +it to be used for Maude; and mind, I'll see to everything; you need not +give yourself any trouble at all. There's only one thing I must enjoin +on you." + +"What's that?" + +"_Secrecy._ Don't let a hint of your intentions get abroad. Whatever you +do, don't write a word to that Carr friend of yours; he's as sharp as a +two-edged sword. As well let things be done privately; it is Maude's +wish." + +"I shall not write to him," cried Hartledon, feeling a sudden heat upon +his face, "or to any one else." + +"Here's Maude. Step this way, Maude. Hartledon wants the ceremony to take +place on Saturday, and I have promised for you." + +Lady Maude advanced; she had really come in by accident; her head was +bent, her eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks. A fair prize; very, +very fair! The old dowager put her hand into Lord Hartledon's. + +"You will love her and cherish her, Percival?" + +What was the young man to do? He murmured some unintelligible assent, and +bent forward to kiss her. But not until that moment had he positively +realized the fact that there would be any marriage. + +Time went on swimmingly until the Saturday, and everything was in +progress. The old dowager deserved to be made commander of a garrison for +her comprehensive strategy, the readiness and skill she displayed in +carrying out her arrangements. For what reason, perhaps she could not +have explained to herself; but an instinct was upon her that secrecy in +all ways was necessary; at any rate, she felt surer of success whilst +it was maintained. Hence her decision in regard to the unused little +chapel; and that this one particular portion of the project had been long +floating in her mind was proved by the fact that she had previously +caused the chapel to be renovated. But that it was to serve her own turn, +she would have let it remain choked up with dust for ever. + +The special license had arrived; the young clergyman who was to perform +the service was located at Hartledon. Seven o'clock was the hour fixed +for the marriage: it would be twilight then, and dinner over. Immediately +afterwards the bride and bridegroom were to depart. So far, so good. But +Lady Kirton was not to have it quite her own way on this same Saturday, +although she had enjoyed it hitherto. + +A rumour reached her ears in the afternoon that Dr. Ashton was at the +Rectory. The doctor had been spending Easter at Cannes, and the dowager +had devoutly prayed that he might not yet return. The news turned her +cheeks blue and yellow; a prevision rushing over her that if he and Lord +Hartledon met there might be no wedding after all. She did her best to +keep Lord Hartledon indoors, and the fact of the Rector's return from +him. + +Now who is going to defend Lord Hartledon? Not you or I. More foolish, +more culpable weakness was never shown than in thus yielding to these +schemes. Though ensnared by Maude's beauty, that was no excuse for him. + +An accident--or what may be called one--delayed dinner. Two county +friends of Hartledon's, jolly fox-hunters in the season, had come riding +a long way across country, and looked in to beg some refreshment. The +dowager fumed, and was not decently civil; but she did not see her way to +turning them out. + +They talked and laughed and ate; and dinner was indefinitely prolonged. +When the dowager and Lady Maude rose from table the former cast a meaning +look at Lord Hartledon. "Get rid of them as soon as you can," it plainly +said. + +But the fox-hunters liked good drinking as well as good eating, and sat +on, enjoying their wine; their host, one of the most courteous of living +men, giving no sign, by word or look, that he wished for their departure. +He was rather silent, they observed; but the young clergyman, who made +the fourth at the table, was voluble by nature. Captain Kirton had not +yet left his sick bed. + +Lady Maude sat alone in her room; the white robes upon her, the orthodox +veil, meant to shade her fair face thrown back from it. She had sent away +her attendants, bolted the door against her mother, and sat waiting her +summons. Waiting and thinking. Her cheek rested on her hand, and her +eyes were dreamy. + +Is it true that whenever we are about to do an ill or unjust deed a +shadow of the fruits it will bring comes over us as a warning? Some +people will tell you so. A vision of the future seemed to rest on Maude +Kirton as she sat there; and for the first time all the injustice of the +approaching act rose in her mind as a solemn omen. The true facts were +terribly distinct. Her own dislike (it was indeed no less than dislike) +of the living lord, her lasting love for the dead one. All the miserable +stratagems they had been guilty of to win him; the dishonest plotting and +planning. What was she about to do? For her own advancement, to secure +herself a position in the great world, and not for love, she was about to +separate two hearts, which but for her would have been united in this +world and the next. She was thrusting herself upon Lord Hartledon, +knowing that in his true heart it was another that he loved, not her. +Yes, she knew that full well. He admired her beauty, and was marrying +her; marrying partly in pique against Anne Ashton; partly in blindfold +submission to the deep schemes of her mother, brought to bear on his +yielding nature. All the injustice done to Anne Ashton was in that moment +beating its refrain upon her heart; and a thought crossed her--would God +not avenge it? Another time she might have smiled at the thought as +fanciful: it seemed awfully real now. "I might give Val up yet," she +murmured; "there's just time." + +She did not act upon the suggestion. Whether it was her warning, or +whether it was not, she allowed it to slip from her. Hartledon's broad +lands and coronet resumed their fascination over her soul; and when her +door was tried, Lady Maude had lost herself in that famous Spanish +chateau we have all occupied on occasion, touching the alterations she +had mentally planned in their town-house. + +"Goodness, Maude, what do you lock yourself in for?" + +Maude opened the door, and the countess-dowager floundered in. She was +resplendent in one of her old yellow satin gowns, a white turban with a +silver feather, and a pink scarf thrown on for ornament. The colours +would no doubt blend well by candlelight. + +"Come, Maude. There's no time to be lost." + +"Are the men gone?" + +"Yes, they are gone; no thanks to Hartledon, though. He sat mooning on, +never giving them the least hint to depart. Priddon told me so. I'll tell +you what it is, Maude, you'll have to shake your husband out of no end of +ridiculous habits." + +"It is growing dark," exclaimed Maude, as she stepped into the corridor. + +"Dark! of course it's dark," was the irascible answer; "and they have had +to light up the chapel, or Priddon couldn't have seen to read his book. +And all through those confounded fox-hunters!" + +Lord Hartledon was not in the drawing-room, where Lady Kirton had left +him only a minute before; and she looked round sharply. + +"Has he gone on to the chapel?" she asked of the young clergyman. + +"No, I think not," replied Mr. Priddon, who was already in his +canonicals. "Hedges came in and said something to him, and they went out +together." + +A minute or two of impatience--she was in no mood to wait long--and then +she rang the bell. It should be remarked that the old lady, either from +excitement or some apprehension of failure, was shaking and jumping as if +she had St. Vitus's dance. Hedges came in. + +"Where's your master?" she tartly asked. + +"With Mr. Carr, my lady." + +"With Mr.--What did you say?" + +"My lord is with Mr. Carr. He has just arrived." + +A moment given to startled consternation and then the fury broke forth. +The young parson had never had the pleasure of seeing one of these +war-dances before, and backed against the wall in his starched surplice. + +"What brings him here? How dare he come uninvited?" + +"I heard him say, my lady, that finding he had a Sunday to spare, he +thought he would come and pass it at Hartledon," said the well-trained +Hedges. + +Ere the words had left his lips Lord Hartledon and Mr. Carr were present; +the latter in a state of utter amazement and in his travelling dress, +having only removed his overcoat. + +"You'll be my groomsman, Carr," said Hartledon. "We have no adherents; +this is a strictly private affair." + +"Did you send for Mr. Carr?" whispered the countess-dowager, looking +white through her rouge. + +"No; his coming has taken me by surprise," replied Hartledon, with a +nervousness he could not wholly conceal. + +They passed rapidly through the passages, marshalled by Hedges. Lord +Hartledon led his bride, the countess-dowager walked with the clergyman, +and Mr. Carr brought up the rear. The latter gentleman was wondering +whether he had fallen into a dream that he should wake up from in the +morning. The mode of procession was a little out of the common order of +such affairs; but so was the marriage. + +Now it happened, not very long before this, that Dr. Ashton was on his +way home from a visit to a sick parishioner--a poor man, who said he +believed life had been prolonged in him that his many years' minister +should be at his deathbed. Dr. Ashton's road lay beyond Hartledon, and +in returning he crossed the road, which brought him out near the river, +between Hartledon and the Rectory. Happening to cast his eyes that way, +he saw a light where he had never seen one before--in the little unused +chapel. Peering through the trees at the two low diamond-paned windows, +to make sure he was not mistaken, Dr. Ashton quickened his pace: his +thoughts glancing at fire. + +He was well acquainted with Hartledon; and making his way in by the +nearest entrance, he dashed along the passages to the chapel, meeting at +length one of the servants. + +"John," he panted, quite out of breath with hurrying, "there's a light in +the chapel. I fear it is on fire." + +"Not at all, sir," replied the man. "We have been lighting it up for my +lord's marriage. They have just gone in." + +"Lighting it up for what?" exclaimed Dr. Ashton. + +"For my lord's marriage, sir. He's marrying Lady Maude. It's the old +dowager, sir, who has got it up in this queer way," continued the man, +venturing on a little confidential gossip with his Rector. + +Dr. Ashton paused to collect his wits ere he walked into the chapel. The +few wax-candles the servants had been able to put about only served to +make the gloom visible. The party were taking their places, the young +clergyman directing them where to stand. He opened his book and was +commencing, when a hand was laid upon Hartledon's shoulder. + +"Lord Hartledon, what is the meaning of this?" + +Lord Hartledon recognised the voice, and broke into a cold perspiration. +He gave no answer; but the countess-dowager made up for his silence. Her +temper, none of the mildest, had been considerably exasperated by the +visit of the fox-hunters; it was made worse by the arrival of Mr. Carr. +When she turned and saw what _this_ formidable interruption was, she lost +it altogether, as few, calling themselves gentlewomen, can lose it. As +she peered into the face of Dr. Ashton, her own was scarlet and yellow, +and her voice rose to a shriek. + +"You prying parson, where did you spring from? Are you not ashamed +to dodge Lord Hartledon in his own house? You might be taken up and +imprisoned for it." + +"Lord Hartledon," said Dr. Ashton, "I--" + +"How dare you persist, I ask you?" shrieked the old woman, whilst +the young clergyman stood aghast, and Mr. Carr folded his arms, and +resolutely fixed his eyes on the floor. "Because Hartledon once had a +flirtation with your daughter, does that give you leave to haunt him as +if you were his double?" + +"Madam," said Dr. Ashton, contriving still to subdue his anger, "I must, +I will speak to Lord Hartledon. Allow me to do so without disturbance. +Lord Hartledon, I wait for an answer: Are you about to marry this young +lady?" + +"Yes, he is," foamed the dowager; "I tell you so. Now then?" + +"Then, madam," proceeded the doctor, "this marriage owes its rise to you. +You will do well to consider whether you are doing them a kindness or an +injury in permitting it. You have deliberately set yourself to frustrate +the hopes of Lord Hartledon and my daughter: will a marriage, thus +treacherously entered into, bring happiness with it?" + +"Oh, you wicked man!" cried the dowager. "You would like to call a curse +upon them." + +"No," shuddered Dr. Ashton; "if a curse ever attends them, it will not +be through any wish of mine. Lord Hartledon, I knew you as a boy; I have +loved you as a son; and if I speak now, it is as your pastor, and for +your own sake. This marriage looks very like a clandestine one, as though +you were ashamed of the step you are taking, and dared not enter on it in +the clear face of day. I would have you consider that this sort of +proceeding does not usually bring a blessing with it." + +If ever Val felt convicted of utter cowardice, he felt so then. All the +wretched sophistry by which he had been beguiled into the step, by which +he had beguiled himself; all the iniquity of his past conduct to Miss +Ashton, rose up before his mind in its naked truth. He dared not reply to +the doctor for very shame. A sorry figure he cut, standing there, Lady +Maude beside him. + +"The last time you entered my house, Lord Hartledon, it was to speak of +your coming marriage with Anne--" + +"And you would like him to go there again and arrange it," interrupted +the incensed dowager, whose head had begun to nod so vehemently that she +could not stop it. "Oh yes, I dare say!" + +"By what right have you thus trifled with her?" continued the Rector, +ignoring the nodding woman and her words, and confronting Lord Hartledon. +"Is it a light matter, think you, to gain a maiden's best love, and then +to desert her for a fresh face? You have been playing fast-and-loose for +some little time: and I gave you more than one opportunity of retiring, +if you so willed it--of openly retiring, you understand; not of doing so +in this secret, disreputable manner. Your conscience will prick you in +after-life, unless I am mistaken." + +Val opened his lips, but the Rector put up his hand. + +"A moment yet. That I am not endeavouring to recall Anne's claims on you +in saying this, I am sure you are perfectly aware, knowing me as you do. +I never deemed you worthy of her--you know that, Lord Hartledon; and you +never were so. Were you a free man at this moment, and went down on your +knees to implore me to give you Anne, I would not do it. You have +forfeited her; you have forfeited the esteem of all good men. But that +I am a Christian minister, I should visit your dishonour upon you as you +deserve." + +"Will you cease?" raved the dowager; and Dr. Ashton wheeled round upon +her. + +"There is less excuse for your past conduct, madam, than for his. You +have played on Lord Hartledon's known irresolution to mould him to your +will. I see now the aim of the letter you favoured me with at Cannes, +when you requested, with so much candour, that he might be left for a +time unfettered by any correspondence with Miss Ashton. Well, you have +obtained your ends. Your covetous wish that you and your daughter should +reign at Hartledon is on the point of being gratified. The honour of +marrying Lady Maude was intended both by you and her for the late Lord +Hartledon. Failing him, you transferred your hopes to the present one, +regardless of who suffered, or what hearts or honour might be broken in +the process." + +"Will nobody put this disreputable parson outside?" raved the dowager. + +"I do not seek to bring reproach home to you; let that, ladies, lie +between yourselves and conscience. I only draw your attention to the +facts; which have been sufficiently patent to the world, whatever Lord +Hartledon may think. And now I have said my say, and leave you; but I +declare that were I performing this burlesque of a marriage, as that +young clergyman is about to do, I should feel my prayers for the divine +blessing to attend it were but a vain mockery." + +He turned to leave the chapel with quick steps, when Lord Hartledon, +shaking off Maude, darted forward and caught his arm. + +"You will tell me one thing at least: Is Anne _not_ going to marry +Colonel Barnaby?" + +"Sir!" thundered the doctor. "Going to marry _whom_?" + +"I heard it," he faltered. "I believed it to be the truth." + +"You may have heard it, but you did not believe it, Lord Hartledon. You +knew Anne better. Do not add this false excuse to the rest." + +Pleasant! Infinitely so for the bridegroom's tingling ears. Dr. Ashton +walked out of the chapel, and Val stood for a few moments where he was, +looking up and down in the dim light. It might be that in his mental +confusion he was deliberating what his course should be; but thought and +common sense came to him, and he knew he could not desert Lady Maude, +having brought matters so far to an end. + +"Proceed," he said to the young clergyman, stalking back to the altar. +"Get--it--over quickly." + +Mr. Carr unfolded his arms and approached Lord Hartledon. He was the only +one who had caught the expression of the bride's face when Hartledon +dropped her arm. It spoke of bitter malice; it spoke, now that he had +returned to her, of an evil triumph; and it occurred to Thomas Carr to +think that he should not like a wife of his to be seen with that +expression on her bridal face. + +"Lord Hartledon, you must excuse me if I do not remain to countenance +this wedding," he said in low but distinct tones. "Before hearing what I +have heard from that good man, I had hesitated about it; but I was lost +in surprise. Fare you well. I shall have left by the time you quit the +chapel." + +He held out his hand, and Val mechanically shook it. The retreating steps +of Mr. Carr, following in the wake of Dr. Ashton, were heard, as Lord +Hartledon spoke again to the clergyman with irritable sharpness: + +"Why don't you begin?" + +And the countess-dowager fanned herself complacently, and neither she nor +Maude cared for the absence of a groomsman. But Maude was not quite +hardened yet; and the shame of her situation was tingeing her eyelids. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE STRANGER. + + +Lord Hartledon was leading his bride through the chapel at the conclusion +of the ceremony, when his attention was caught by something outside one +of the windows. At first he thought it was a black cat curled up in some +impossible fashion, but soon saw it was a dark human face. And that face +he discovered to be Mr. Pike's, peering earnestly in. + +"Hedges, send that man away. How dare he intrude himself in this manner? +How has he got up to the window?" + +For these windows were high beyond the ordinary height of man. Hedges +went out, a sharp reprimand on his tongue, and found that Mr. Pike had +been at the trouble of carrying a heap of stones from a distance and +piling them up to stand upon. + +"Well, you must have a curiosity!" he exclaimed, in his surprise. "Just +put those stones back in their places, and take yourself away." + +"You are right," said the man. "I have a curiosity in all that concerns +the new lord. But I am going away now." + +He leaped down as he spoke, and began to replace the stones. Hedges went +in again. + +The carriage, waiting to convey them away, was already at the door, the +impatient horses pawing the ground. Maude changed her dress with all +speed; and in driving down the road by starlight they overtook Thomas +Carr, carrying his own portmanteau. Lord Hartledon let down the window +impulsively, as if he would have spoken, but seemed to recollect himself, +and drew it up again. + +"What is it?" asked Maude. + +"Mr. Carr." + +It was the first word he had spoken to her since the ceremony. His +silence had frightened her: what if he should resent on _her_ the cruel +words spoken by Dr. Ashton? Sick, trembling, her beautiful face humble +and tearful enough now, she bent it on his shoulder in a shower of bitter +tears. + +"Oh, Percival, Percival! surely you are not going to punish me for what +has passed?" + +A moment's struggle with himself, and he turned and took both her hands +in his. + +"It may be that neither of us is free from blame, Maude, in regard to the +past. All we can now do, as it seems to me, is to forget it together, and +make the best of the future." + +"And you will forget Anne Ashton?" she whispered. + +"Of course I shall forget her. I ask nothing better than to forget her +from this moment. I have made _you_ my wife; and I will try to make your +happiness." + +He bent and kissed her face. Maude, in some restlessness, as it seemed, +withdrew to her own corner of the carriage and cried softly; and Lord +Hartledon let down the glass again to look back after Thomas Carr and his +portmanteau in the starlight. + +The only perfectly satisfied person was the countess-dowager. All the +little annoying hindrances went for nothing now that the desired end +was accomplished, and she was in high feather when she bade adieu to the +amiable young clergyman, who had to depart that night for his curacy, +ten miles away, to be in readiness for the morrow's services. + +"If you please, my lady, Captain Kirton has been asking for you once or +twice," said Hedges, entering the dowager's private sitting-room. + +"Then Captain Kirton must ask," retorted the dowager, who was sitting +down to her letters, which she had left unopened since their arrival in +the morning, in her anxiety for other interests. "Hedges, I should like +some supper: I had only a scrambling sort of dinner. You can bring it up +here. Something nice; and a bottle of champagne." + +Hedges withdrew with the order, and Lady Kirton applied herself to her +letters. The first she opened was from the daughter who had married the +French count. It told a pitiful tale of distress, and humbly craved to be +permitted to come over on a fortnight's visit, she and her two sickly +children, "for a little change." + +"I dare say!" emphatically cried the dowager. "What next? No, thank you, +my lady; now that I have at least a firm footing in this house--as that +blessed parson said--I am not going to risk it by filling it with every +bothering child I possess. Bob departs as soon as his leg's well. Why +what's this?" + +She had come upon a concluding line as she was returning the letter to +the envelope. "P.S. If I don't hear from you _very_ decisively to the +contrary, I shall come, and trust to your good nature to forgive it. I +want to see Bob." + +"Oh, that's it, is it!" said the dowager. "She means to come, whether I +will or no. That girl always had enough impudence for a dozen." + +Drawing a sheet of paper out of her desk, she wrote a few rapid lines. + + "Dear Jane, + + "For _mercy's_ sake keep those _poor_ children and yourself _away_! We + have had an _aweful infectious fever_ rageing in the place, which it + was thought to be _cured_, but it's on the break _out_ again-several + _deaths_, Hartledon and Maude (_married_ of course) have gone out of + its reach and I'm thinking of it if _Bob's_ leg which is _better_ + permits. You'd not like I dare say to see the children in a _coffin + apiece_ and yourself in a _third_, as might be the end. _Small-pox_ is + raging at _Garchester_ a neighbouring town, that _will_ be awful if it + gets to _us_ and I _hear_ it's on the _road_ and with kind love + _believe_ me your affectionate_ + + "MOTHER. + + "P.S. I am sorry for _what_ you tell me about _Ugo_ and the _state_ + of affairs chey vous. But you know you _would marry_ him so there's + _nobody_ to blame. Ah! _Maude_ has gone by _my_ advice and done as _I_ + said and the consequence is _she's_ a peeress for life and got a + handsome young husband _without_ a _will_ of his own." + +The countess-dowager was not very adroit at spelling and composition, +whether French or English, as you observe. She made an end of her +correspondence, and sat down to a delicious little supper alone; as she +best liked to enjoy these treats. The champagne was excellent, and she +poured out a full tumbler of it at once, by way of wishing good luck to +Maude's triumphant wedding. + +"And it _is_ a triumph!" she said, as she put down the empty glass. "I +hope it will bring Jane and the rest to a sense of _their_ folly." + +A triumph? If you could only have looked into the future, Lady Kirton! +A triumph! + +The above was not the only letter written that evening. At the hotel +where Lord and Lady Hartledon halted for the night, when she had retired +under convoy of her maid, then Val's restrained remorse broke out. He +paced the room in a sort of mad restlessness; in the midst of which he +suddenly sat down to a table on which lay pens, ink, and paper, and +poured forth hasty sentences in his mind's wretched tumult. + + "My Dear Mrs. Ashton, + + "I cannot address you in any more formal words, although you will have + reason to fling down the letter at my presuming to use these now--for + dear, most dear, you will ever be to me. + + "What can I say? Why do I write to you? Indeed to the latter question I + can only answer I do not know, save that some instinct of good feeling, + not utterly dead within me, is urging me to it. + + "Will you let me for a moment throw conventionality aside; will you for + that brief space of time let me speak truly and freely to you, as one + might speak who has passed the confines of this world? + + "When a man behaves to a woman as I, to my eternal shame, have this day + behaved to Anne, it is, I think, a common custom to regard the false + man as having achieved a sort of triumph; to attribute somewhat of + humiliation to the other. + + "Dear Mrs. Ashton, I cannot sleep until I have said to you that in my + case the very contrary is the fact. A more abject, humiliated man than + I stand at this hour in my own eyes never yet took his sins upon his + soul. Even you might be appeased if you could look into mine and see + its sense of degradation. + + "That my punishment has already come home to me is only just; that I + shall have to conceal it from all the world, including my wife, will + not lessen its sting. + + "I have this evening married Maude Kirton. I might tell you of unfair + play brought to bear upon me, of a positive assurance, apparently well + grounded, that Anne had entered into an engagement to wed another, + could I admit that these facts were any excuse for me. They are no + excuse; not the slightest palliation. My own yielding folly alone is + to blame, and I shall take shame to myself for ever. + + "I write this to you as I might have written it to my own mother, were + she living; not as an expiation; only to tell of my pain; that I am not + utterly hardened; that I would sue on my knees for pardon, were it not + shut out from me by my own act. There is no pardon for such as I. When + you have torn it in pieces, you will, I trust, forget the writer. + + "God bless you, dear Mrs. Ashton! God bless and comfort another who is + dear to you!--and believe me with true undying remorse your once + attached friend, + + "Hartledon." + +It was a curious letter to write; but men of Lord Hartledon's sensitive +temperament in regard to others' feelings often do strange things; things +the world at large would stare at in their inability to understand them. +The remorse might not have come home to him quite so soon as this, his +wedding-day, but for the inopportune appearance of Dr. Ashton in the +chapel, speaking those words that told home so forcibly. Such reproach +on these vacillating men inflicts a torture that burns into the heart +like living fire. + +He sealed the letter, addressing it to Cannes; called a waiter, late as +it was, and desired him to post it. And then he walked about the room, +reflecting on the curse of his life--his besetting sin--irresolution. It +seemed almost an anomaly for _him_ to make resolves; but he did make one +then; that he would, with the help of Heaven, be a MAN from henceforth, +however it might crucify his sensitive feelings. And for the future, the +obligation he had that day taken upon himself he determined to fulfil to +his uttermost in all honour and love; to cherish his wife as he would +have cherished Anne Ashton. For the past--but Lord Hartledon rose up now +with a start. There was one item of that past he dared not glance at, +which did not, however, relate to Miss Ashton: and it appeared inclined +to thrust itself prominently forward to-night. + +Could Lord Hartledon have borrowed somewhat of the easy indifference of +the countess-dowager, he had been a happier man. That lady would have +made a female Nero, enjoying herself while Rome was burning. She remained +on in her snug quarters at Hartledon, and lived in clover. + +One evening, rather more than a week after the marriage, Hedges had been +on an errand to Calne, and was hastening home. In the lonely part of the +road near Hartledon, upon turning a sharp corner, he came upon Mirrable, +who was standing talking to Pike, very much to the butler's surprise. +Pike walked away at once; and the butler spoke. + +"He is not an acquaintance of yours, that man, Mrs. Mirrable?" + +"Indeed no," she answered, tossing her head. "It was like his impudence +to stop me. Rather flurried me too," she continued: and indeed Hedges +noticed that she seemed flurried. + +"What did he stop you for? To beg?" + +"Not that. I've never heard that he does beg. He accosted me with a cool +question as to when his lordship was coming back to Hartledon. I answered +that it could not be any business of his. And then you came up." + +"He is uncommon curious as to my lord. I can't make it out. I've seen him +prowling about the grounds: and the night of the marriage he was mounted +up at the chapel window. Lord Hartledon saw him, too. I should like to +know what he wants." + +"By a half-word he let drop, I fancy he has a crotchet in his head that +his lordship will find him some work when he comes home. But I must go on +my way," added Mirrable. "Mrs. Gum's not well, and I sent word I'd look +in for half-an-hour this evening." + +Hedges had to go on his way also, for it was close upon the +countess-dowager's dinner-hour, at which ceremony he must attend. Putting +his best foot forward, he walked at more than an ordinary pace, and +overtook a gentleman almost at the very door of Hartledon. The stranger +was approaching the front entrance, Hedges was wheeling off to the back; +but the former turned and spoke. A tall, broad-shouldered, grey-haired +man, with high cheek-bones. Hedges took him for a clergyman from his +attire; black, with a white neckcloth. + +"This is Hartledon House, I believe," he said, speaking with a Scotch +accent. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you belong to it?" + +"I am Lord Hartledon's butler." + +"Is Lord Hartledon at home?" + +"No, sir. He is in France." + +"I read a notice of his marriage in the public papers," continued the +stranger, whose eyes were fixed on Hedges. "It was, I suppose, a correct +one?" + +"My lord was married the week before last: about ten or eleven days ago." + +"Ay; April the fourteenth, the paper said. She is one of the Kirton +family. When do you expect him home?" + +"I don't know at all, sir. I've not heard anything about it." + +"He is in France, you say, Paris, I suppose. Can you furnish me with his +address?" + +Up to this point the colloquy had proceeded smoothly on both sides: but +it suddenly flashed into the mind of Hedges that the stranger's manner +was somewhat mysterious, though in what the mystery lay he could not have +defined. The communicative man, true to the interests of his master, +became cautious at once: he supposed some of Lord Hartledon's worries, +contracted when he was Mr. Elster, were returning upon him. + +"I cannot give his address, sir. And for the matter of that, it might not +be of use if I could. Lord and Lady Hartledon did not intend remaining +any length of time in one place." + +The stranger had dug the point of his umbrella into the level greensward +that bounded the gravel, and swayed the handle about with his hand, +pausing in thought. + +"I have come a long way to see Lord Hartledon," he observed. "It might be +less trouble and cost for me to go on to Paris and see him there, than to +start back for home, and come here again when he returns to England. Are +you sure you can't give me his address?" + +"I'm very sorry I can't, sir. There was a talk of their going on to +Switzerland," continued Hedges, improvising the journey, "and so coming +back through Germany; and there _was_ a talk of their making Italy before +the heat came on, and stopping there. Any way, sir, I dare say they are +already away from Paris." + +The stranger regarded Hedges attentively, rather to the discomfiture of +that functionary, who thought he was doubted. He then asked a great many +questions, some about Lord Hartledon's personal habits, some about Lady +Maude: the butler answered them freely or cautiously, as he thought he +might, feeling inclined all the while to chase the intruder off the +premises. Presently he turned his attention on the house. + +"A fine old place, this, Mr. Butler." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I suppose I could look over it, if I wished?" + +Hedges hesitated. He was privately asking himself whether the law would +allow the stranger, if he had come after any debt of Lord Hartledon's, to +refuse to leave the house, once he got into it. + +"I could ask Lady Kirton, sir, if you particularly wished it." + +"Lady Kirton? You have some one in the house, then!" + +"The Dowager Lady Kirton's here, sir. One of her sons also--Captain +Kirton; but he is confined to his room." + +"Then I would rather not go in," said the stranger quickly. "I'm very +disappointed to have come all this way and not find Lord Hartledon." + +"Can I forward any letter for you, sir? If you'd like to intrust one to +me, I'll send it as soon as we know of any certain address." + +"No--no, I think not," said the stranger, musingly. "There might be +danger," he muttered to himself, but Hedges caught the words. + +He stood swaying the umbrella-handle about, looking down at it, as if +that would assist his decision. Then he looked at Hedges. + +"My business with Lord Hartledon is quite private, and I would rather not +write. I'll wait until he is back in England: and see him then." + +"What name, sir?" asked Hedges, as the stranger turned away. + +"I would prefer not to leave my name," was the candid answer. "Good +evening." + +He walked briskly down the avenue, and Hedges stood looking after him, +slightly puzzled in his mind. + +"I don't believe it's a creditor; that I don't. He looks like a parson to +me. But it's some trouble though, if it's not debt. 'Danger' was the +word: 'there might be danger.' Danger in writing, he meant. Any way, I'm +glad he didn't go in to that ferreting old dowager. And whatever it may +be, his lordship's able to pay it now." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A CHANCE MEETING. + + +Some few weeks went by. On a fine June morning Lord and Lady Hartledon +were breakfasting at their hotel in the Rue Rivoli. She was listlessly +playing with her cup; he was glancing over _Galignani's_. + +"Maude," he suddenly exclaimed, "the fountains are to play on Sunday at +Versailles. Will you go to see them?" + +"I am tired of sight-seeing, and tired of Paris too," was Lady +Hartledon's answer, spoken with apathy. + +"Are you?" he returned, with animation, as though not sorry to hear the +avowal. "Then we won't stay in Paris any longer. When shall we leave?" + +"Are the letters not late this morning?" she asked, allowing the question +to pass. + +Lord Hartledon glanced at the clock. "Very late: and we are late also. +Are you expecting any in particular?" + +"I don't know. This chocolate is cold." + +"That is easily remedied," said he, rising to ring the bell. "They can +bring in some fresh." + +"And keep us waiting half-an-hour!" she grumbled. + +"The hotel is crammed up to the mansarde," said good-natured Lord +Hartledon, who was easily pleased, and rather tolerant of neglect in +French hotels. "Is not that the right word, Maude? You took me to task +yesterday for saying garret. The servants are run off their legs." + +"Then the hotel should keep more servants. I am quite sick of having to +ring twice. A week ago I wished I was out of the place." + +"My dear Maude, why did you not say so? If you'd like to go on at once to +Germany--" + +"Lettres et journal pour monsieur," interrupted a waiter, entering with +two letters and the _Times_. + +"One for you, Maude," handing a letter to his wife. "Don't go," he +continued to the waiter; "we want some more chocolate; this is cold. Tell +him in French, Maude." + +But Lady Hartledon did not hear; or if she heard, did not heed; she was +already absorbed in the contents of her letter. + +"Ici," said Hartledon, pushing the chocolate-pot towards the man, and +rallying the best French he could command, "encore du chocolat. Toute +froide, _this_. Et puis depechez vous; il est tarde, et nous avons besoin +de sortir." + +The man was accustomed to the French of Englishmen, and withdrew without +moving a muscle of his face. But Lady Hartledon's ears had been set on +edge. + +"_Don't_ attempt French again, Val. They'll understand you if you speak +in English." + +"Did I make any mistake?" he asked good-humouredly. "I could speak French +once; but am out of practice. It's the genders bother one." + +"Fine French it must have been!" thought her ladyship. "Who is your +letter from?" + +"My bankers, I think. About Germany, Maude--would you like to go there?" + +"Yes. Later. After we have been to London." + +"To London!" + +"We will go to London at once, Percival; stay there for the rest of the +season, and then--" + +"My dear," he interrupted, his face overcast, "the season is nearly over. +It will be of no use going there now." + +"Plenty of use. We shall have quite six weeks of it. Don't look cross, +Val; I have set my heart upon it." + +"But have you considered the difficulties? In the first place, we have no +house in town; in the second--" + +"Oh yes we have: a very good house." + +Lord Hartledon paused, and looked at her; he thought she was joking. +"Where is it?" he asked in merry tones; "at the top of the Monument?" + +"It is in Piccadilly," she coolly replied. "Do you remember, some days +ago, I read out an advertisement of a house that was to be let there for +the remainder of the season, and remarked that it would suit us?" + +"That it might suit us, had we wanted one," put in Val. + +"I wrote off at once to mamma, and begged her to see after it and engage +it for us," she continued, disregarding her husband's amendment. "She now +tells me she has done so, and ordered servants up from Hartledon. By the +time this letter reaches me she says it will be in readiness." + +Lord Hartledon in his astonishment could scarcely find words to reply. +"You wrote--yourself--and ordered the house to be taken?" + +"Yes. You are difficult to convince, Val." + +"Then I think it was your duty to have first consulted me, Lady Maude," +he said, feeling deeply mortified. + +"Thank you," she laughed. "I have not been Lady Maude this two months." + +"I beg your pardon, Lady Hartledon." + +"Now don't pretend to be offended, Val. I have only saved you trouble." + +"Maude," he said, rallying his good humour, "it was not right. Let +us--for Heaven's sake let us begin as we mean to go on: our interests +must be _one_, not separate. Why did you not tell me you wished to return +to London, and allow me to see after an abode for us? It would have been +the proper way." + +"Well, the truth is, I saw you did not want to go; you kept holding back +from it; and if I _had_ spoken you would have shillyshallied over it +until the season was over. Every one I know is in London now." + +The waiter entered with the fresh chocolate, and retired again. Lord +Hartledon was standing at the window then. His wife went up to him, and +stole her hand within his arm. + +"I'm sorry if I have offended you, Val. It's no great matter to have +done." + +"I think it was, Maude. However--don't act for yourself in future; let me +know your wishes. I do not think you have expressed a wish, or half a +wish, since our marriage, but I have felt a pleasure in gratifying it." + +"You good old fellow! But I am given to having a will of my own, and to +act independently. I'm like mamma in that. Val, we will start to-morrow: +have you any orders for the servants? I can transmit them through mamma." + +"I have no orders. This is your expedition, Maude, not mine; and, I +assure you, I feel like a man in utter darkness in regard to it. Allow +me to see your mother's letter." + +Lady Hartledon had put the letter safely into her pocket. + +"I would rather not, Percival: it contains a few private words to myself, +and mamma has always an objection to her letters being shown. I'll read +you all necessary particulars. You must let me have some money to-day." + +"How much?" asked he, from between his compressed lips. + +"Oceans. I owe for millinery and things. And, Val, I'll go to Versailles +this afternoon, if you like. I want to see some of the rooms again." + +"Very well," he answered. + +She poured out some chocolate, took it hurriedly, and quitted the room, +leaving her husband in a disheartening reverie. That Lady Hartledon and +Maude Kirton were two very distinct persons he had discovered already; +the one had been all gentleness and childlike suavity, the other was +positive, extravagant, and self-willed; the one had made a pretence of +loving him beyond all other things in life, the other was making very +little show of loving him at all, or of concealing her indifference. +Lord Hartledon was not the only husband who has been disagreeably +astonished by a similar metamorphosis. + +The following was the letter of the countess-dowager: + + "Darling Maude, + + "I have _secured_ the _house_ you write about and send by this _post_ + for Hedges and a few of the rest from _Hartledon_. It won't accommodate + a large _establishment_ I can tell you and you'll be _disappointed_ + when you come over to take _possession_ which you can do when you + _choose_. Val was a _fool_ for letting his town house in the spring but + of course we know he is _one_ and must put up with it. Whatever you + _do_, don't _consult_ him about _any earthly thing_ take _your own + way_, he never did have _much_ of a will and you must let him _have + none_ for the future. You've got a splendid _chance_ can spend _what + you like_ and rule in _society_ and he'll subside into a _tame + spaniel_. + + "Maude if you are such an idiot I'll _shake_ you. Find you've made a + _dredful_ mistake?--can't bear your husband?--keep thinking always of + _Edward_? A child might write such utter _rubish_ but not you, what + does it matter whether one's husband is _liked_ or _disliked_, provided + he gives one _position_ and _wealth_? Go to Amiens and stop with _Jane_ + for a _week_ and see her _plight_ and then grumble at your own, you + _are_ an idiot. + + "I'm quite _glad_ about your taking this town-_house_, and shall enter + into _posession_ myself as soon as the servants are up, and await you. + _Bob's_ quite _well_ and joins to-day and of course _gives up_ his + lodgings, which have been _wretchedly confined_ and uncomfortable and + where I should have gone to but for this _move_ of yours I don't know. + Mind you bring me over a Parisian _bonnet_ or two or some articles of + that _sort_. I'm nearly in _rags_, Kirton's as undutiful as he _can_ be + but it's that _wife_ of his. + + "Your affectionate mother, + + "C. Kirton." + +The letter will give you some guide to the policy of Maude Hartledon +since her marriage. She did find she had made a mistake. She cared no +more for her husband now than she had cared for him before; and it was a +positive fact that she despised him for walking so tamely into the snare +laid for him by herself and her mother. Nevertheless she triumphed; he +had made her a peeress, and she did care for that; she cared also for the +broad lands of Hartledon. That she was unwise in assuming her own will so +promptly, with little regard to consulting his, she might yet discover. + +At Versailles that day--to which place they went in accordance with +Maude's wish--there occurred a rencontre which Lord Hartledon would +willingly have gone to the very ends of the earth to avoid. It happened +to be rather full for Versailles; many of the visitors in Paris +apparently having taken it into their minds to go; indeed, Maude's wish +was induced by the fact that some of her acquaintances in the gay capital +were going also. + +You may possibly remember a very small room in the galleries, exceedingly +small as compared with the rest, chiefly hung with English portraits. +They were in this room, amidst the little crowd that filled it, when Lord +Hartledon became aware that his wife had encountered some long-lost +friend. There was much greeting and shaking of hands. He caught the +name--Kattle; and being a somewhat singular name, he recognised it for +that of the lady who had been sojourning at Cannes, and had sent the news +of Miss Ashton's supposed engagement to the countess-dowager. There was +the usual babble on both sides--where each was staying, had been staying, +would be staying; and then Lord Hartledon heard the following words from +Mrs. Kattle. + +"How strange I should have seen you! I have met you, the Fords, and the +Ashtons here, and did not know that any of you were in Paris. It's true +I only arrived yesterday. Such a long illness, my dear, I had at Turin!" + +"The Ashtons!" involuntarily repeated Maude. "Are they here?--in the +chateau?" And it instantly occurred to her how she should like to meet +them, and parade her triumph. If ever a spark of feeling for her husband +arose within Maude's heart, it was when she thought of Anne Ashton. She +was bitterly jealous of her still. + +"Yes, here; I saw them not three minutes ago. They are only now on their +road home from Cannes. Fancy their making so long a stay!" + +"You wrote mamma word that Miss Ashton was about to marry some Colonel +Barnaby." + +Mrs. Kattle laughed. It is possible that written news might have been +_asked for_ by the countess-dowager. + +"Well, my dear, and so I did; but it turned out to be a mistake. He did +admire her; there was no mistake about that; and I dare say she might +have had him if she liked. How's your brother and his poor leg?" + +"Oh, he is well," answered Maude. "Au revoir; I can't stand this crush +any longer." + +It was really a crush just then in the room; and though Maude escaped +from it dexterously, Lord Hartledon did not. He was wedged in behind some +stout women, and had the pleasure of hearing another word or two from +Mrs. Kattle. + +"Who was that?" asked a lady, who appeared to be her companion. + +"Lady Hartledon. He was only the younger brother until a few months ago, +but the elder one got drowned in some inexplicable manner on his own +estate, and this one came into the title. The old dowager began at once +to angle for him, and succeeded in hooking him. She used to write me word +how it progressed." + +"She is very beautiful." + +"Very." + +Lord Hartledon made his escape, and found his wife looking round for him. +She was struck by the aspect of his face. + +"Are you ill, Percival?" + +"Ill? No. But I don't care how soon we get out of these rooms. I can't +think what brings so many people in them to-day." + +"He has heard that _she's_ here, and would like to avoid her," thought +Maude as she took the arm he held out. "The large rooms are empty enough, +I'm sure," she remarked. "Shall we have time to go to the Trianon?" + +"If you like. Yes." + +He began to hurry through the rooms. Maude, however, was in no mood to be +hurried, but stopped here and stopped there. All at once they met a large +party of friends; those she had originally expected to meet. Quitting her +husband's arm, she became lost amongst them. + +There was no help for it; and Lord Hartledon, resigning himself to the +detention, took up his standing before the pictures and stared at them, +his back to the room. He saw a good deal to interest him, in spite of his +rather tumultuous state of mind, and remained there until he found +himself surrounded by other spectators. Turning hastily with a view to +escaping, he trod upon a lady's dress. She looked up at his word of +apology, and they stood face to face--himself and Miss Ashton! + +That both utterly lost their presence of mind would have been conclusive +to the spectators, had any regarded them; but none did so. They were +strangers amidst the crowd. For the space of a moment each gazed on the +other, spell-bound. Lord Hartledon's honest blue eyes were riveted on her +face with a strangely yearning expression of repentance--her sweet face, +which had turned as white as ashes. He wore mourning still for his +brother, and was the most distinguished-looking man in the chateau that +day. Anne was in a trailing lilac silk, with a white gossamer-bonnet. +That the heart of each went out to the other, as it had perhaps never +gone out before, it may be no sin to say. Sin or no sin, it was the +truth. The real value of a thing, as you know, is never felt until it +is lost. For two months each had been dutifully striving to forget the +other, and believed they were succeeding; and this first accidental +meeting roused up the past in all its fever of passion. + +No more conscious of what he did than if he had been in a dream, Lord +Hartledon held out his hand; and she, quite as unconscious, mechanically +met it with hers. What confused words of greeting went forth from his +lips he never knew; she as little; but this state of bewildered feeling +lasted only a minute; recollection came to both, and she strove to +withdraw her hand to retreat. + +"God bless you, Anne!" was all he whispered, his fervent words marred by +their tone of pain; and he wrung her hand as he released it. + +Turning away he caught the eyes of his wife riveted on them; she had +evidently seen the meeting, and her colour was high. Lord Hartledon +walked straight into the next room, and Maude went up to Anne. + +"How do you do, Miss Ashton? I am so glad to meet you. I have just heard +you were here from Mrs. Kattle. You have been speaking to my husband." + +Anne bowed; she did not lose her presence of mind at _this_ encounter. A +few civil words of reply given with courteous dignity, and she moved away +with a bright flush on her cheek, towards Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were +standing arm-in-arm enraptured before a remote picture, cognizant of +nothing else. + +"How thin she looks!" exclaimed Maude, as she rejoined her husband, and +took his arm. + +"Who looks thin?" + +"Miss Ashton. I wonder she did not fling your hand away, instead of +putting her own into it!" + +"Do you wish to see the Trianon? We shall be late." + +"Yes, I do wish to see it. But you need not speak in that tone: it was +not my fault that we met her." + +He answered never a syllable. His lips were compressed to pain, and his +face was hectic; but he would not be drawn into reproaching his wife by +so much as a word, for the sort of taste she was displaying. The manner +in which he had treated Miss Ashton and her family was ever in his mind, +more or less, in all its bitter, humiliating disgrace. The worst part of +it to Val was, that there could be no reparation. + +The following day Lord Hartledon and his wife took their departure from +Paris; and if anything could have imparted especial gratification on his +arriving in London at the hired house, it was to find that his wife's +mother was not in it. Val had come home against his will; he had not +wished to be in London that season; rather would he have buried himself +and his haunting sense of shame on the tolerant Continent; and he +certainly had not wished his wife to make her debut in a small hired +house. When he let his own, nothing could have been further from his +thoughts than marriage. As to this house--Lady Kirton had told her +daughter she would be disappointed in it; but when Maude saw its +dimensions, its shabby entrance, its want of style altogether, she was +dismayed. "And after that glowing advertisement!" she breathed +resentfully. It was one of the smallest houses facing the Green Park. + +Hedges came forward with an apology from the countess-dowager. An apology +for not invading their house and inflicting her presence upon them +uninvited! A telegraphic despatch from Lord Kirton had summoned her to +Ireland on the previous day; and Val's face grew bright as he heard it. + +"What was the matter, Hedges?" inquired his mistress. "I'm sure my +brother would not telegraph unless it was something." + +"The message didn't say, my lady. It was just a few words, asking her +ladyship to go off by the first train, but giving no reason." + +"I wonder she went, then," observed Val to his wife, as they looked into +the different rooms. But Maude did not wonder: she knew how anxious her +mother was to be on good terms with her eldest son, from whom she +received occasional supplies. Rather would she quarrel with the whole +world than with him. + +"I think it a good thing she has gone, Maude," said he. "There certainly +would not have been room for her and for us in this house." + +"And so do I," answered Maude, looking round her bed-chamber. "If mamma +fancies she's going to inflict herself upon us for good she's mistaken. +She and I might quarrel, perhaps; for I know she'd try to control me. +Val, what are we to do in this small house?" + +"The best we can. We have made the bargain, you know, and taken +possession now." + +"You are laughing. I declare I think you are glad it has turned out what +it is!" + +"I am not sorry," he avowed. "You'll let me cater for you another time, +Maude." + +She put up her face to be kissed. "Don't be angry with me. It is our +home-coming." + +"Angry!" he repeated. "I have never shown anger to you yet, Maude. Never +a woman had a more indulgent husband than you shall have in me." + +"You don't say a loving one, Val!" + +"And a loving one also: if you will only let me be so." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Love requires love in return. We shall be happy, I am sure, if you so +will it. Only let us pull together; one mind, one interest. Here's your +maid. I wonder where my dressing room is?" + +And thus they entered on what remained of the London season. The +newspapers announced the arrival of Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Maude +read it aloud to her husband. She might have retained peace longer, +however, had that announcement not gone forth to the four corners of the +land. + +"Only let us pull together!" A very few days indeed sufficed to dissipate +that illusion. Lady Hartledon plunged madly into all the gaieties of the +dying season, as though to make up for lost time; Lord Hartledon never +felt less inclined to plunge into anything, unless it was the waters of +oblivion. He held back from some places, but she did not appear to care, +going her way in a very positive, off-hand manner, according to her own +will, and paying not the slightest deference to his. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE STRANGER AGAIN. + + +On a burning day at the end of June, Lord Hartledon was walking towards +the Temple. He had not yet sought out his friend Thomas Carr; a sense of +shame held him back; but he was on his way to do so now. + +Turning down Essex Street and so to the left, he traversed the courts +and windings, and mounted the stairs to the barrister's rooms. Many a +merry hour had he passed in those three small rooms, dignified with the +name of "Mr. Carr's chambers," but which were in fact also Mr. Carr's +dwelling-place--and some sad ones. + +Lord Hartledon knocked at the outer door with his stick--a somewhat +faint, doubtful knock; not with the free hand of one at ease with himself +and the world. For one thing, he was uncertain as to the reception he +should meet with. + +Mr. Carr came to the door himself; his clerk was out. When he saw who was +his visitor he stood in comic surprise. Val stepped in, extending his +hand; and it was heartily taken. + +"You are not offended with me, then, Carr?" + +"Nay," said Mr. Carr, "I have no reason to be offended. Your sin was not +against me." + +"That's a strong word, 'sin.'" + +"It is spoken," was the answer; "but I need not speak it again. I don't +intend to quarrel with you. I was not, I repeat, the injured party." + +"Yet you took yourself off in dudgeon, as though you were, leaving me +without a groomsman." + +"I would not remain to witness a marriage that--that you ought not to +have entered upon." + +"Well, it's done and over, and need not be brought up again," returned +Hartledon, a shade of annoyance in his tones. + +"Certainly not. I have no wish or right to bring it up. How is Lady +Hartledon?" + +"She is very well. And now what has kept you away, Carr? We have been in +London nearly a fortnight, and you've never been near me. I thought you +_were_ going to quarrel." + +"I did not know you had returned." + +"Not know it! Why all the newspapers had it in amongst the 'fashionable +intelligence.'" + +"I have more to do with my time than to look at the fashionable portion +of the papers. Not being fashionable myself, it doesn't interest me." + +"Yes, it's about a fortnight since we came back to this hateful place," +returned Hartledon, his light tone subsiding into seriousness. "I am out +of conceit with England just now; and would far rather have gone to the +Antipodes." + +"Then why did you come back to it?" inquired the barrister, in surprise. + +"My wife gave me no choice. She possesses a will of her own. It is the +ordinary thing, perhaps, for wives to do so." + +"Some do, and some don't," observed Thomas Carr, who never flattered at +the expense of truth. "Are you going down to Hartledon?" + +"Hartledon!" with a perceptible shiver. "In the mind I am in, I shall +never visit Hartledon again; there are some in its vicinity I would +rather not insult by my presence. Why do you bring up disagreeable +subjects?" + +"You will have to get over that feeling," observed Mr. Carr, disregarding +the hint, and taking out his probing-knife. "And the sooner it is got +over the better for all parties. You cannot become an exile from your own +place. Are they at Calne now?" + +"Yes. They were in Paris just before we left it, and there was an +encounter at Versailles. I wished myself dead; I declare I did. A day or +two after we came to England they crossed over, and went straight down to +Calne. There--don't say any more." + +"The longer you keep away from Hartledon the greater effort it will cost +you to go down to it; and--" + +"I won't go to Hartledon," he interrupted, in a sort of fury; "neither +perhaps would you, in my place." + +"Sir," cried Mr. Carr's clerk, bustling in and addressing his master, +"you are waited for at the chambers of Serjeant Gale. The consultation is +on." + +Lord Hartledon rose. + +"I will not detain you, Carr; business must be attended to. Will you come +and dine with us this evening? Only me and my wife. Here's where we are +staying--Piccadilly. My own house is let, you know." + +"I have no engagement, and will come with pleasure," said Mr. Carr, +taking the card. "What hour?" + +"Ah, that's just what I can't tell you. Lady Hartledon orders dinner to +suit her engagements--any time between six and nine! I never know. We are +a fashionable couple, don't you see?" + +"Stay, though, Hartledon; I forget. I have a business appointment for +half-past eight. Perhaps I can put it off." + +"Come up at six. You'll be all right, then, in any case." + +Lord Hartledon left the Temple, and sauntered towards home. He had +no engagement on hand--nothing to kill time. He and his wife were +falling naturally into the way of--as he had just cynically styled +it--fashionable people. She went her way and he went his. + +Many a cabman held up his hand or his whip; but in his present mood +walking was agreeable to him: why should he hurry home, when he had +nothing on earth to do there? So he stared here, and gazed there, and +stopped to speak to this acquaintance, and walked a few steps with that, +went into his club for ten minutes, and arrived home at last. + +His wife's carriage was at the door waiting for her. She was bound on an +expedition to Chiswick: Lord Hartledon had declined it. He met her +hastening out as he entered, and she was looking very cross. + +"How late you are going, Maude!" + +"Yes, there has been a mistake," she said peevishly, turning in with him +to a small room they used as a breakfast-room. "I have been waiting all +this time for Lady Langton, and she, I find, has been waiting for me. I'm +now going round to take her up. Oh, I have secured that opera-box, Val, +but at an extravagant price, considering the little time that remains of +the season." + +"What opera-box?" + +"Didn't I tell you? It's one I heard of yesterday. I was not going again +to put up with the wretched little box they palmed you off with. I did +tell you that." + +"It was the only one I could get, Maude: there was no other choice." + +"Yes, I know. Well, I have secured another for the rest of the season, +and you must not talk about extravagance, please." + +"Very well," said Val, with a smile. "For what hour have you ordered +dinner?" + +"Nine o'clock." + +"Nine o'clock! That's awkward--and late." + +"Why awkward? You may have to wait for me even then. It is impossible to +say when we shall get home from Chiswick. All the world will be there." + +"I have just asked Carr to dine with us, and told him to come at six. I +don't fancy these hard-working men care to wait so long for their dinner. +And he has an appointment for half-past eight." + +The colour came flushing into Lady Hartledon's face, an angry light into +her eyes. + +"You have asked Carr to dinner! How dared you?" + +Val looked up in quiet amazement. + +"Dared!" + +"Well--yes. Dared!" + +"I do not understand you, Maude. I suppose I may exercise the right of +inviting a friend to dinner." + +"Not when it is objectionable to me. I dislike that man Carr, and will +not receive him." + +"You can have no grounds for disliking him," returned Lord Hartledon +warmly. "He has been a good and true friend to me ever since I knew what +friendship meant; and he is a good and true man." + +"Too much of a friend," she sarcastically retorted. "You don't need him +now, and can drop him." + +"Maude," said Lord Hartledon, very quietly, "I have fancied several times +lately that you are a little mistaking me. I am not to have a will of my +own; I am to bend in all things to yours; you are to be mistress and +master, I a nonentity: is it not so? This is a mistake. No woman ever had +a better or more indulgent husband than you shall find in me: but in all +necessary things, where it is needful and expedient that I should +exercise my own judgment, and act as master, I shall do it." + +She paused in very astonishment: the tone was so calmly decisive. + +"My dear, let us have no more of this; something must have vexed you +to-day." + +"We will have no more of it," she passionately retorted; "and I'll have +no more of your Thomas Carrs. It is not right that you should bring a man +here who has deliberately insulted me. Be quiet, Lord Hartledon; he has. +What else was it but an insult--his going out of the chapel in the manner +he did, when we were before the altar? It was a direct intimation that he +did not countenance the marriage. He would have preferred, I suppose, +that you should marry your country sweetheart, Anne Ashton." + +A hot flush rose to Lord Hartledon's brow, but his tone was strangely +temperate. "I have already warned you, Maude, that we shall do well to +discard that name from our discussions, and if possible from our +thoughts; it may prove better for both of us." + +"Better for you, perhaps; but you are _not_ going to exercise any control +over my will, or words, or action; and so I tell you at once. I'm quite +old enough to be out of leading-strings, and I'll be mistress in my own +house. You will do well to send a note to your amiable friend Carr; it +may save him a useless journey; for at my table he shall not sit. Now you +know, Val." + +She spoke impatiently, haughtily, and swept out to her carriage. Val did +not follow to place her in; he positively did not, but left her to the +servants. Never in his whole life perhaps had he felt so nettled, never +so resolute: the once vacillating, easily-persuaded man, when face to +face with people, was speedily finding the will he had only exercised +behind their backs. He rang the bell for Hedges. + +"Her ladyship has ordered dinner for nine o'clock," he said, when the +butler appeared. + +"I believe so, my lord." + +"It will be inconvenient to me to wait so long to-day. I shall dine at +seven. You can serve it in this room, leaving the dining-room for Lady +Hartledon. Mr. Carr dines with me." + +So Hedges gave the necessary orders, and dinner was laid in the +breakfast-room. Thomas Carr came in, bringing the news that he had +succeeded in putting off his appointment. Lord Hartledon received him in +the same room, fearing possibly the drawing-room might be invaded by his +wife. She was just as likely to be home early from Chiswick as late. + +"We have it to ourselves, Carr, and I am not sorry. There was no +certainty about my wife's return, so I thought we'd dine alone." + +They very much enjoyed their tete-a-tete dinner; as they had enjoyed many +a one in Hartledon's bachelor days. Thomas Carr--one of the quiet, good +men in a fast world--was an admirable companion, full of intelligence and +conversation. Hedges left them alone after the cloth was removed, but in +a very few minutes returned; his step rather more subdued than usual, as +if he came upon some secret mission. + +"Here's that stranger come again, sir," he began, in low tones; and it +may as well be remarked that in moments of forgetfulness he often did +address his master as he used to address him in the past. "He asked if--" + +"What stranger?" rather testily interposed Lord Hartledon. "I am at +dinner, and can't see any stranger now. What are you thinking about, +Hedges?" + +"It is what I said," returned Hedges; "but he would not take the answer. +He said he had come a long way to see your lordship, and he would see +you; his business was very important. My lady asked him--" + +"Has Lady Hartledon returned?" + +"She came in now, my lord, while I was denying you to him. Her ladyship +heard him say he would see you, and she inquired what his business was; +but he did not tell her. It was private business, he remarked, and could +only be entered into with your lordship." + +"Who is it, Hedges? Do you know him?" + +Lord Hartledon had dropped his voice to confidential tones. Hedges was +faithful, and had been privy to some of his embarrassments in the old +days. The man looked at the barrister, and seemed to hesitate. + +"Speak out. You can say anything before Mr. Carr." + +"I don't know him," answered Hedges. "It is the gentleman who came to +Hartledon the week after your lordship's marriage, asking five hundred +questions, and wanting--" + +"He, is it?" interrupted Val. "You told me about him when I came home, +I remember. Go on, Hedges." + +"That's all, my lord. Except that he is here now"--and Hedges nodded his +head towards the room-door. "He seems very inquisitive. When my lady went +upstairs, he asked whether that was the countess, and followed her to the +foot of the stairs to look after her. I never saw any gentleman stare +so." + +Val played with his wine-glass, and pondered. "I don't believe I owe a +shilling in the world," quoth he--betraying the bent of his thoughts, and +speaking to no one in particular. "I have squared-up every debt, as far +as I know." + +"He does not look like a creditor," observed Hedges, with a fatherly air. +"Quite superior to that: more like a parson. It's his manner that makes +one doubt. There was a mystery about it at Hartledon that I didn't like; +and he refused to give his name. His insisting on seeing your lordship +now, at dinner or not at dinner, is odd too; his voice is quiet, just as +if he possessed the right to do this. I didn't know what to do, and +as I say, he's in the hall." + +"Show him in somewhere, Hedges. Lady Hartledon is in the drawing-room, I +suppose: let him go into the dining-room." + +"Her ladyship's dinner is being laid there, my lord," dissented the +cautious retainer. "She said it was to be served as soon as it was ready, +having come home earlier than she expected." + +"Deuce take it!" testily responded Val, "one can't swing a cat in these +cramped hired houses. Show him into my smoking-den upstairs." + +"Let me go there," said Mr. Carr, "and you can see him in this room." + +"No; keep to your wine, Carr. Take him up there, Hedges." + +The butler retired, and Lord Hartledon turned to his guest. "Carr, can +you give a guess at the fellow's business?" + +"It's nothing to trouble you. If you have overlooked any old debt, you +are able to give a cheque for it. But I should rather suspect your +persevering friend to be some clergyman or missionary, bent on drawing +a good subscription from you." + +Val did not raise his eyes. He was playing again with his empty +wine-glass, his face grave and perplexed. + +"Do they serve writs in these cases?" he suddenly asked. + +Mr. Carr laughed. "Is the time so long gone by that you have forgotten +yours? You have had some in your day." + +"I am not thinking of debt, Carr: that is over for me. But there's no +denying that I behaved disgracefully to--you know--and Dr. Ashton has +good reason to be incensed. Can he be bringing an action against me, and +is this visit in any way connected with it?" + +"Nonsense," said Mr. Carr. + +"Is it nonsense! I'm sure I've heard of their dressing-up these +serving-officers as clergymen, to entrap the unwary. Well, call it +nonsense, if you like. What of my suggestion in regard to Dr. Ashton?" + +Thomas Carr paused to consider. That it was most improbable in all +respects, he felt sure; next door to impossible. + +"The doctor is too respectable a man to do anything of the sort," he +answered. "He is high-minded, honourable, wealthy: there's no inducement +whatever. _No._" + +"Yes, there may be one: that of punishing me by bringing my disgrace +before the world." + +"You forget that he would bring his daughter's name before it at the same +time. It is quite out of the range of possibility. The Ashtons are not +people to seek legal reparation for injury of this sort. But that your +fears are blinding you, you would never suspect them of being capable of +it." + +"The stranger is upstairs, my lord," interrupted Hedges, coming back to +the room. "I asked him what name, and he said your lordship would know +him when you saw him, and there was no need to give it." + +Lord Hartledon went upstairs, marshalled by the butler. Hedges was +resenting the mystery; very much on his master's account, a little on his +own, for it cannot be denied that he was given to curiosity. He threw +open the door of the little smoking-den, and in his loftiest, loudest, +most uncompromising voice, announced: + +"The gentleman, my lord." + +Then retired, and shut them in. + +Thomas Carr remained alone. He was not fond of wine, and did not +help himself during his host's absence. Five minutes, ten minutes, +half-an-hour, an hour; and still he was alone. At the end of the first +half-hour he began to think Val a long time; at the end of the hour he +feared something must have happened. Could he be quarrelling with the +mysterious stranger? Could he have forgotten him and gone out? Could +he-- + +The door softly opened, and Lord Hartledon came in. Was it Lord +Hartledon? Thomas Carr rose from his chair in amazement and dread. It was +like him, but with some awful terror upon him. His face was of an ashy +whiteness; the veins of his brow stood out; his dry lips were drawn. + +"Good Heavens, Hartledon!" uttered Thomas Carr. "What is it? You look as +if you had been accused of murder." + +"I have been accused of it," gasped the unhappy man, "of worse than +murder. Ay, and I have done it." + +The words called up a strange confusion of ideas in the mind of Thomas +Carr. Worse than murder! + +"What is it?" cried he, aloud. "I am beginning to dream." + +"Will you stand by me?" rejoined Hartledon, his voice seeming to have +changed into something curiously hollow. "I have asked you before for +trifles; I ask you now in the extremity of need. Will you stand by me, +and aid me with your advice?" + +"Y--es," answered Mr. Carr, his excessive astonishment causing a +hesitation. "Where is your visitor?" + +"Upstairs. He holds a fearful secret, and has me in his power. Do you +come back with me, and combat with him against its betrayal." + +"A fearful secret!" was Thomas Carr's exclamation. "What brings you with +one?" + +Lord Hartledon only groaned. "You will stand by me, Carr? Will you come +upstairs and do what you can for me?" + +"I am quite ready," replied Thomas Carr, quickly. "I will stand by you +now, as ever. But--I seem to be in a maze. Is it a true charge?" + +"Yes, in so far as that--But I had better tell you the story," he broke +off, wiping his brow. "I must tell it you before you go upstairs." + +He linked his arm within his friend's, and drew him to the window. It +was broad daylight still, but gloomy there: the window had the pleasure +of reposing under the leads, and was gloomy at noon. Lord Hartledon +hesitated still. "Elster's folly!" were the words mechanically floating +in the mind of Thomas Carr. + +"It is an awful story, Carr; bad and wicked." + +"Let me hear it at once," replied Thomas Carr. + +"I am in danger of--of--in short, that person upstairs could have me +apprehended to-night. I would not tell you but that I must do so. I must +have advice, assistance; but you'll start from me when you hear it." + +"I will stand by you, whatever it may be. If a man has ever need of a +friend, it must be in his extremity." + +Lord Hartledon stood, and whispered a strange tale. It was anything but +coherent to the clear-minded barrister; nevertheless, as he gathered one +or two of its points he did start back, as Hartledon had foretold, and an +exclamation of dismay burst from his lips. + +"And you could _marry_--with this hanging over your head!" + +"Carr--" + +The butler came in with an interruption. + +"My lady wishes to know whether your lordship is going out with her +to-night." + +"Not to-night," answered Lord Hartledon, pointing to the door for the man +to make his exit. "It is of her I think, not of myself," he murmured to +Mr. Carr. + +"And he"--the barrister pointed above to indicate the +stranger--"threatens to have you apprehended on the charge?" + +"I hardly know what he threatens. _You_ must deal with him, Carr; +I cannot. Let us go; we are wasting time." + +As they left the room to go upstairs Lady Hartledon came out of the +dining-room and crossed their path. She was deeply mortified at her +husband's bringing Mr. Carr to the house after what she had said; and +most probably came out at the moment to confront them with her haughty +and disapproving face. However that might have been, all other emotions +gave place to surprise, when she saw _their_ faces, each bearing a livid +look of fear. + +"I hope you are well, Lady Hartledon," said Mr. Carr. + +She would not see the offered hand, but swept onwards with a cold +curtsey, stopping just a moment to speak to her husband. + +"You are not going out with me, Lord Hartledon?" + +"I cannot to-night, Maude. Business detains me." + +She passed up the stairs, vouchsafing no other word. They lingered a +minute to let her get into the drawing-room. + +"Poor Maude! What will become of her if this is brought home to me?" + +"And if it is not brought home to you--the fact remains the same," said +Mr. Carr, in his merciless truth. + +"And our children, our children!" groaned Hartledon, a hot flush of dread +arising in his white face. + +They shut themselves in with the stranger, and the conference was +renewed. Presently lights were rung for; Hedges brought them himself, +but gained nothing by the movement; for Mr. Carr heard him coming, rose +unbidden, and took them from him at the door. + +Lady Hartledon's curiosity was excited. It had been aroused a little by +the stranger himself; secondly by their scared faces; thirdly by this +close conference. + +"Who is that strange gentleman, Hedges?" she asked, from the +drawing-room, as the butler descended. + +"I don't know, my lady." + +"What is his name?" + +"I have not heard it, my lady." + +"He looks like a clergyman." + +"He does, my lady." + +Apparently Hedges was impenetrable, and she allowed him to go down. Her +curiosity was very much excited; it may be said, uneasily excited; there +is no accounting for these instincts that come over us, shadowing forth +a vague sense of dread. Although engaged out that night to more than one +place, Lady Hartledon lingered on in the drawing-room. + +They came out of the room at last and passed the drawing-room door. She +pushed it to, only peeping out when they had gone by. There was nothing +to hear; they were talking of ordinary matters. The stranger, in his +strong Scotch accent, remarked what a hot day it had been. In travelling, +no doubt very, responded Mr. Carr. Lady Hartledon condescended to +cautiously put her head over the balustrades. There was no bell rung; +Lord Hartledon showed his visitor out himself. + +"And now for these criminal law books, Carr, that bear upon the case," he +said, returning from the front-door. + +"I must go down to my chambers for them." + +"I know they can't bring it home to me; I know they can't!" he exclaimed, +in tones so painfully eager as to prove to Lady Hartledon's ears that he +thought they could, whatever the matter might be. "I'll go with you, +Carr; this uncertainty is killing me." + +"There's little uncertainty about it, I fear," was the grave reply. "You +had better look the worst in the face." + +They went out, intending to hail the first cab. Very much to Lord +Hartledon's surprise he saw his wife's carriage waiting at the door, the +impatient horses chafing at their delay. What could have detained her? +"Wait for me one moment, Carr," he said. "Stop a cab if you see one." + +He dashed up to the drawing-room; his wife was coming forth then, her +cloak and gloves on, her fan in her hand. "Maude, my darling," he +exclaimed, "what has kept you? Surely you have not waited for me?--you +did not misunderstand me?" + +"I hardly know what has kept me," she evasively answered. "It is late, +but I'm going now." + +It never occurred to Lord Hartledon that she had been watching or +listening. Incapable of any meanness of the sort, he could not suspect it +in another. Lady Hartledon's fertile brain had been suggesting a solution +of this mystery. It was rather curious, perhaps, that her suspicions +should take the same bent that her husband's did at first--that of +instituting law proceedings by Dr. Ashton. + +She said nothing. Her husband led her out, placed her in the carriage, +and saw it drive away. Then he and the barrister got into a cab and went +to the Temple. + +"We'll take the books home with us, Carr," he said, feverishly. "You +often have fellows dropping in to your chambers at night; at my house we +shall be secure from interruption." + +It was midnight when Lady Hartledon returned home. She asked after her +husband, and heard that he was in the breakfast-room with Mr. Carr. + +She went towards it with a stealthy step, and opened the door very +softly. Had Lord Hartledon not been talking, they might, however, have +heard her. The table was strewed with thick musty folios; but they +appeared to be done with, and Mr. Carr was leaning back in his chair with +folded arms. + +"I have had nothing but worry all my life," Val was saying; "but compared +with this, whatever has gone before was as nothing. When I think of +Maude, I feel as if I should go mad." + +"You must quietly separate from her," said Mr. Carr. + +A slight movement. Mr. Carr stopped, and Lord Hartledon looked round. +Lady Hartledon was close behind him. + +"Percival, what is the matter?" she asked, turning her back on Mr. Carr, +as if ignoring his presence. "What bad news did that parson bring you?--a +friend, I presume, of Dr. Ashton's." + +They had both risen. Lord Hartledon glanced at Mr. Carr, the perspiration +breaking out on his brow. "It--it was not a parson," he said, in his +innate adherence to truth. + +"I ask _you_, Lord Hartledon," she resumed, having noted the silent +appeal to Mr. Carr. "It requires no third person to step between man and +wife. Will you come upstairs with me?" + +Words and manner were too pointed, and Mr. Carr hastily stacked the +books, and carried them to a side-table. + +"Allow these to remain here until to-morrow," he said to Lord Hartledon; +"I'll send my clerk for them. I'm off now; it's later than I thought. +Good-night, Lady Hartledon." + +He went out unmolested; Lady Hartledon did not answer him; Val nodded his +good-night. + +"Are you not ashamed to face me, Lord Hartledon?" she then demanded. +"I overheard what you were saying." + +"Overheard what we were saying?" he repeated, gazing at her with a scared +look. + +"I heard that insidious man give you strange advice--'_you must quietly +separate from her_,' he said; meaning from me. And you listened +patiently, and did not knock him down!" + +"Maude! Maude! was that all you heard?" + +"_All!_ I should think it was enough." + +"Yes, but--" He broke off, so agitated as scarcely to know what he was +saying. Rallying himself somewhat, he laid his hand upon the white cloak +covering her shoulders. + +"Do not judge him harshly, Maude. Indeed he is a true friend to you and +to me. And I have need of one just now." + +"A true friend!--to advise that! I never heard of anything so monstrous. +You must be out of your mind." + +"No, I am not, Maude. Should--disgrace"--he seemed to hesitate for a +word--"fall upon me, it must touch you as connected with me. I _know_, +Maude, that he was thinking of your best and truest interests." + +"But to talk of separating husband and wife!" + +"Yes--well--I suppose he spoke strongly in the heat of the moment." + +There was a pause. Lord Hartledon had his hand still on his wife's +shoulder, but his eyes were bent on the table near which they stood. She +was waiting for him to speak. + +"Won't you tell me what has happened?" + +"I can't tell you, Maude, to-night," he answered, great drops coming out +again on his brow at the question, and knowing all the time that he +should never tell her. "I--I must learn more first." + +"You spoke of disgrace," she observed gently, swaying her fan before her +by its silken cord. "An ugly word." + +"It is. Heaven help me!" + +"Val, I do think you are the greatest simpleton under the skies!" she +exclaimed out of all patience, and flinging his hand off. "It's time you +got rid of this foolish sensitiveness. I know what is the matter quite +well; and it's not so very much of a disgrace after all! Those Ashtons +are going to make you pay publicly for your folly. Let them do it." + +He had opened his lips to undeceive her, but stopped in time. As a +drowning man catches at a straw, so did he catch at this suggestion in +his hopeless despair; and he suffered her to remain in it. Anything to +stave off the real, dreadful truth. + +"Maude," he rejoined, "it is for your sake. If I am sensitive as to +any--any disgrace being brought home to me, I declare that I think of +you more than of myself." + +"Then don't think of it. It will be fun for me, rather than anything +else. I did not imagine the Ashtons would have done it, though. I wonder +what damages they'll go in for. Oh, Val, I should like to see you in the +witness-box!" + +He did not answer. + +"And it was not a parson?" she continued. "I'm sure he looked as much +like one as old Ashton himself. A professional man, then, I suppose, +Val?" + +"Yes, a professional man." But even that little answer was given with +some hesitation, as though it had evasion in it. + +Maude broke into a laugh. "Your friend, Pleader Carr--or whatever he +calls himself--must be as thin-skinned as you are, Val, to fancy that a +rubbishing action of that sort, brought against a husband, can reflect +disgrace on the wife! Separate, indeed! Has he lived in a wood all his +life? Well, I am going upstairs." + +"A moment yet, Maude! You will take a caution from me, won't you? Don't +speak of this; don't allude to it, even to me. It may be arranged yet, +you know." + +"So it may," acquiesced Maude. "Let your friend Carr see the doctor, and +offer to pay the damages down." + +He might have resented this speech for Dr. Ashton's sake, in a happier +moment, but resentment had been beaten out of him now. And Lady Hartledon +decided that her husband was a simpleton, for instead of going to sleep +like a reasonable man, he tossed and turned by her side until daybreak. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +SECRET CARE. + + +From that hour Lord Hartledon was a changed man. He went about as one who +has some awful fear upon him, starting at shadows. That his manner was +inexplicable, even allowing that he had some great crime on his +conscience, a looker-on had not failed to observe. He was very tender +with his wife; far more so than he had been at all; anxious, as it +seemed, to indulge her every fancy, gratify her every whim. But when it +came to going into society with her, then he hesitated; he would and he +wouldn't, reminding Maude of his old vacillation, which indeed had seemed +to have been laid aside for ever. It was as though he appeared not to +know what to do; what he ought to do; his own wish or inclination having +no part in it. + +"Why _won't_ you go with me?" she said to him angrily one day that he had +retracted his assent at the last moment. "Is it that you care so much for +Anne Ashton, that you don't care to be seen with me?" + +"Oh, Maude! If you knew how little Anne Ashton is in my thoughts now! +When by chance I do think of her, it is to be thankful I did not marry +her," he added, in a tone of self-communing. + +Maude laughed a light laugh. "This movement of theirs is putting you out +of conceit of your old love, Val." + +"What movement?" he rejoined; and he would not have asked the question +had his thoughts not gone wool-gathering. + +"You are dreaming, Val. The action." + +"Ah, yes, to be sure." + +"Have you heard yet what damages they claim?" + +He shook his head. "You promised not to speak of this, Maude; even to +me." + +"Who is to help speaking of it, when you allow it to take your ease away? +I never in my life saw any one so changed as you are. I wish the thing +were over and done with, though it left you a few thousand pounds the +poorer. _Will_ you accompany me to this dinner to-day? I am sick of +appearing alone and making excuses for you." + +"I wish I knew what to do for the best--what my course ought to be!" +thought Hartledon within his conscience. "I can't bear to be seen with +her in public. When I face people with her on my arm, it seems as if they +must know what sort of man she, in her unconsciousness, is leaning upon." + +"I'll go with you to-day, Maude, as you press it. I was to have seen Mr. +Carr, but can send down to him." + +"Then don't be five minutes dressing: it is time we went." + +She heard him despatch a footman to the Temple with a message that he +should not be at Mr. Carr's chambers that evening; and she lay back in +her chair, waiting for him in her dinner-dress of black and white. They +were in mourning still for his brother. Lord Hartledon had not left it +off, and Maude had loved him too well to grumble at the delay. + +She had grown tolerant in regard to the intimacy with Mr. Carr. That her +husband should escape as soon and as favourably as possible out of the +dilemma in which he was plunged, she naturally wished; that he should +require legal advice and assistance to accomplish it, was only +reasonable, and therefore she tolerated the visits of Mr. Carr. She had +even gone so far one evening as to send tea in to them when he and Val +were closeted together. + +But still Lady Hartledon was not quite prepared to find Mr. Carr at +their house when they returned. She and Lord Hartledon went forth to +the dinner; the latter behaving as though his wits were in some far-off +hemisphere rather than in this one, so absent-minded was he. From the +dinner they proceeded to another place or two; and on getting home, +towards one in the morning, there was the barrister. + +"Mr. Carr is waiting to see you, my lord," said Hedges, meeting them in +the passage. "He is in the dining-room." + +"Mr. Carr! Now!" + +The hall-lamp shone full on his face as he spoke. He had been momentarily +forgetting care; was speaking gaily to his wife as they entered. She saw +the change that came over it; the look of fear, of apprehension, that +replaced its smile. He went into the dining-room, and she followed him. + +"Why, Carr!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?" + +Mr. Carr, bowing to Lady Hartledon, made a joke of the matter. "Having +waited so long, I thought I'd wait it out, Hartledon. As good be hung for +a sheep as a lamb, you know, and I have no wife sitting up for me at +home." + +"You had my message?" + +"Yes, and that brought me here. I wanted just to say a word to you, as +I am going out of town to-morrow." + +"What will you take?" + +"Nothing at all. Hedges has been making me munificent offers, but I +declined them. I never take anything after dinner, except a cup of tea or +so, as you may remember, keeping a clear head for work in the morning." + +There was a slight pause. Lady Hartledon saw of course that she was _de +trop_ in the conference; that Mr. Carr would not speak his "word" whilst +she was present. She had never understood why the matter should be kept +apart from her; and in her heart resented it. + +"You won't say to my husband before me what you have come to say, Mr. +Carr." + +It was strictly the truth, but the abrupt manner of bringing it home to +him momentarily took away Mr. Carr's power of repartee, although he was +apt enough in general, as became a special pleader. + +"You have had news from the Ashtons; that is, of their cause, and you +have come to tell it. I don't see why you and Lord Hartledon should so +cautiously keep everything from me." + +There was an eager look on Lord Hartledon's face as he stood behind his +wife. It was directed to Mr. Carr, and said as plainly as look could say, +"Don't undeceive her; keep up the delusion." But Thomas Carr was not so +apt at keeping up delusions at the expense of truth, and he only smiled +in reply. + +"What damages are they suing for?" + +"Oh," said Mr. Carr, with a laugh, and ready enough now: "ten thousand +pounds will cover it." + +"Ten thousand pounds!" she echoed. "Of course they won't get half of it. +In this sort of action--breach of promise--parties never get so much as +they ask for, do they?" + +"Not often." + +She laughed a little as she quitted the room. It was difficult to remain +longer, and it never occurred to her to suspect that any graver matter +than this action was in question. + +"Now, Carr?" began Lord Hartledon, seating himself near the table as he +closed the door after her, and speaking in low tones. + +"I received this letter by the afternoon mail," said Mr. Carr, taking one +from the safe enclosure of his pocket-book. "It is satisfactory, so far +as it goes." + +"I call it very satisfactory," returned Hartledon, glancing through it. +"I thought he'd listen to reason. What is done cannot be undone, and +exposure will answer no end. I wrote him an urgent letter the other day, +begging him to be silent for Maude's sake. Were I to expiate the past +with my life, it could not undo it. If he brought me to the bar of my +country to plead guilty or not guilty, the past would remain the same." + +"And I put the matter to him in my letter somewhat in the same light, +though in a more business-like point of view," returned Mr. Carr. "There +was no entreaty in mine. I left compassion, whether for you or others, +out of the argument; and said to him, what will you gain by exposure, and +how will you reconcile it to your conscience to inflict on innocent +persons the torture exposure must bring?" + +"I shall breathe freely now," said Hartledon, with a sigh of relief." +If that man gives his word not to stir in the matter, not to take +proceedings against me; in short, to bury what he knows in secrecy and +silence, as he has hitherto done; it will be all I can hope for." + +Mr. Carr lifted his eyebrows. + +"I perceive what you think: that the fact remains. Carr, I know it as +well as you; I know that _nothing_ can alter it. Don't you see that +remorse is ever present with me? driving me mad? killing me by inches +with its pain?" + +"Do you know what I should be tempted to do, were the case mine?" + +"Well?" + +"Tell my wife." + +"Carr!" + +"I almost think I should; I am not quite sure. Should the truth ever come +to her--" + +"But I trust it never will come to her," interrupted Hartledon, his face +growing hot. + +"It's a delicate point to argue," acknowledged Mr. Carr, "and I cannot +hope to bring you into my way of looking at it. Had you married Miss +Ashton, it appears to me that you would have no resource but to tell +her: the very fact of being bound to you would kill a religious, +high-principled woman." + +"Not if she remained in ignorance." + +"There it is. Ought she to remain in ignorance?" + +Lord Hartledon leaned his head on his hand as one faint and weary. +"Carr, it is of no use to go over all this ground again. If I disclose +the whole to Maude, how would it make it better for her? Would it not +render it a hundred times worse? She could not inform against me; it +would be contrary to human nature to suppose it; and all the result +would be, that she must go through life with the awful secret upon her, +rendering her days a hell upon earth, as it is rendering mine. It's true +she might separate from me; I dare say she would; but what satisfaction +would that bring her? No; the kinder course is to allow her to remain in +ignorance. Good Heavens! tell my wife! I should never dare do it!" + +Mr. Carr made no reply, and a pause ensued. In truth, the matter was +encompassed with difficulties on all sides; and the barrister could but +acknowledge that Val's argument had some sort of reason in it. Having +bound her to himself by marriage, it might be right that he should study +her happiness above all things. + +"It has put new life into me," Val resumed, pointing to the letter. "Now +that he has promised to keep the secret, there's little to fear; and I +know that he will keep his word. I must bear the burden as I best can, +and keep a smiling face to the world." + +"Did you read the postscript?" asked Mr. Carr; a feeling coming over him +that Val had not read it. + +"The postscript?" + +"There's a line or two over the leaf." + +Lord Hartledon glanced at it, and found it ran thus: + + "You must be aware that another person knows of this besides myself. He + who was a witness at the time, and from whom _I_ heard the particulars. + Of course for him I cannot answer, and I think he is in England. I + allude to G.G. Lord H. will know." + +"Lord H." apparently did know. He gazed down at the words with a knitted +brow, in which some surprise was mingled. + +"I declare that I understood him that night to say the fellow had died. +Did not you?" + +"I did," acquiesced Mr. Carr. "I certainly assumed it as a fact, until +this letter came to-day. Gordon was the name, I think?" + +"George Gordon." + +"Since reading the letter I have been endeavouring to recollect exactly +what he did say; and the impression on my mind is, that he spoke of +Gordon as being _probably_ dead; not that he knew it for a certainty. +How I could overlook the point so as not to have inquired into it more +fully, I cannot imagine. But, you see, we were not discussing details +that night, or questioning facts: we were trying to disarm him--get him +not to proceed against you; and for myself, I confess I was so utterly +stunned that half my wits had left me." + +"What is to be done?" + +"We must endeavour to ascertain where Gordon is," replied Mr. Carr, as +he re-enclosed the letter in his pocket-book. "I'll write and inquire +what _his_ grounds are for thinking he is in England; and then trace him +out--if he is to be traced. You give me carte-blanche to act?" + +"You know I do, Carr." + +"All right." + +"And when you have traced him--what then?" + +"That's an after-question, and I must be guided by circumstances. And now +I'll wish you good-night," continued the barrister, rising. "It's a shame +to have kept you up; but the letter contains some consolation, and I knew +I could not bring it you to-morrow." + +The drawing-room was lighted when Lord Hartledon went upstairs; and his +wife sat there with a book, as if she meant to remain up all night. She +put it down as he entered. + +"Are you here still, Maude! I thought you were tired when you came home." + +"I felt tired because I met no one I cared for," she answered, in rather +fractious tones. "Every one we know is leaving town, or has left." + +"Yes, that's true." + +"I shall leave too. I don't mind if we go to-morrow." + +"To-morrow!" he echoed. "Why, we have the house for three weeks longer." + +"And if we have? We are not obliged to remain in it." + +Lord Hartledon put back the curtain, and stood leaning out at the open +window, seeking a breath of air that hot summer's night, though indeed +there was none to be found; and if there had been, it could not have +cooled the brow's inward fever. The Park lay before him, dark and misty; +the lights of the few vehicles passing gleamed now and again; the hum of +life was dying out in the streets, men's free steps, careless voices. He +looked down, and wondered whether any one of those men knew what care +meant as _he_ knew it; whether the awful skeleton, that never quitted +him night or day, could hold such place with another. He was Earl of +Hartledon; wealthy, young, handsome; he had no bad habits to hamper him; +and yet he would willingly have changed lots at hazard with any one of +those passers-by, could his breast, by so doing, have been eased of its +burden. + +"What are you looking at, Val?" + +His wife had come up and stolen her arm within his, as she asked the +question, looking out too. + +"Not at anything in particular," he replied, making a prisoner of her +hand. "The night's hot, Maude." + +"Oh, I am getting tired of London!" she exclaimed. "It is always hot now; +and I believe I ought to be away from it." + +"Yes." + +"That letter I had this morning was from Ireland, from mamma. I told her, +when I wrote last, how I felt; and you never read such a lecture as she +gave me in return. She asked me whether I was mad, that I should be going +galvanizing about when I ought rather to be resting three parts of my +time." + +"Galvanizing?" said Lord Hartledon. + +"So she wrote: she never waits to choose her words--you know mamma! +I suppose she meant to imply that I was always on the move." + +"Do you feel ill, Maude?" + +"Not exactly ill; but--I think I ought to be careful. Percival," she +breathed, "mamma asked me whether I was trying to destroy the hope of an +heir to Hartledon." + +An ice-bolt shot through him at the reminder. Better an heir should never +be born, if it must call him father! + +"I fainted to-day, Val," she continued to whisper. + +He passed his arm round his wife's waist, and drew her closer to him. +Not upon her ought he to visit his sin: she might have enough to bear, +without coldness from him; rather should he be doubly tender. + +"You did not tell me about it, love. Why have you gone out this evening?" +he asked reproachfully. + +"It has not harmed me. Indeed I will take care, for your sake. I should +never forgive myself." + +"I have thought since we married, Maude, that you did not much care for +me." + +Maude made no immediate answer. She was looking out straight before her, +her head on his shoulder, and Lord Hartledon saw that tears were +glistening in her eyes. + +"Yes, I do," she said at length; and as she spoke she felt very conscious +that she _was_ caring for him. His gentle kindness, his many attractions +were beginning to tell upon her heart; and a vision of the possible +future, when she should love him, crossed her then and there as she +stood. Lord Hartledon bent his face, and let it rest on hers. + +"We shall be happy yet, Val; and I will be as good as gold. To begin +with, we will leave London at once. I ought not to remain, and I know you +have not liked it all along. It would have been better to wait until next +year, when we could have had our own house; only I was impatient. I felt +proud of being married; of being your wife--I did indeed, Val--and I was +in a fever to be amidst my world of friends. And there's a real +confession!" she concluded, laughing. + +"Any more?" he asked, laughing with her. + +"I don't remember any more just now. Which day shall we go? You shall +manage things for me now: I won't be wilful again. Shall the servants go +on first to Hartledon, or with us?" + +"To Hartledon!" exclaimed Val. "Is it to Hartledon you think of going?" + +"Of course it is," she said, standing up and looking at him in surprise. +"Where else should I go?" + +"I thought you wished to go to Germany!" + +"And so I did; but that would not do now." + +"Then let us go to the seaside," he rather eagerly said. "Somewhere in +England." + +"No, I would rather go to Hartledon. In one's own home rest and comfort +can be insured; and I believe I require them. Don't you wish to go +there?" she added, watching his perplexed face. + +"No, I don't. The truth is, I cannot go to Hartledon." + +"Is it because you do not care to face the Ashtons? I see! You would like +to have this business settled first." + +Lord Hartledon hardly heard the words, as he stood leaning against the +open casement, gazing into the dark and misty past. No man ever shrank +from a prison as he shrank from Hartledon. + +"I cannot leave London at all just yet. Thomas Carr is remaining here for +me, when he ought to be on circuit, and I must stay with him. I wish you +would go anywhere else, rather than to Hartledon." + +The tone was so painfully earnest, that a momentary suspicion crossed her +of his having some other motive. It passed away almost as it arose, and +she accused him of being unreasonable. + +Unreasonable it did appear to be. "If you have any real reason to urge +against Hartledon, tell it me," she said. But he mentioned none--save +that it was his "wish" not to go. + +And Lady Hartledon, rather piqued, gave the necessary orders on the +following day for the removal. No further confidential converse, or +approach to it, took place between her and her husband; but up to the +last moment she thought he would relent and accompany her. Nothing of the +sort. He was anxious for her every comfort on the journey, and saw her +off himself: nothing more. + +"I never thought you would allow me to go alone," she resentfully +whispered, as he held her hand after she was seated in the train. + +He shook his head. "It is your fault, Maude. I told you I could not go to +Hartledon." + +And so she went down in rather an angry frame of mind. Many a time and +oft had she pictured to herself the triumph of their first visit to +Calne, the place where she had taken so much pains to win him: but the +arrival was certainly shorn of its glory. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +ASKING THE RECTOR. + + +Perhaps Lady Hartledon had never in all her life been so much astonished +as when she reached Hartledon, for the first person she saw there was her +mother: her mother, whom she had believed to be in some remote district +of Ireland. For the moment she almost wondered whether it was really +herself or her ghost. The countess-dowager came flying down the steps--if +that term may be applied to one of her age and size--with rather +demonstrative affection; which, however, was not cordially received. + +"What's the matter, Maude? How you stare!" + +"_Is_ it you, mamma? How _can_ it be you?" + +"How can it be me?" returned the dowager, giving Maude's bonnet a few +kisses. "It _is_ me, and that's enough. My goodness, Maude, how thin you +look! I see what it is! you've been killing yourself in that racketing +London. It's well I've come to take care of you." + +Maude went in, feeling that she could have taken care of herself, and +listening to the off-hand explanations of the countess-dowager. "Kirton +offended me," she said. "He and his wife are like two bears; and so I +packed up my things and came away at once, and got here straight from +Liverpool. And now you know." + +"And is Lady Kirton quite well again?" asked Maude, helplessly, knowing +she could not turn her mother out. + +"She'd be well enough but for temper. She _was_ ill, though, when they +telegraphed for me; her life for three days and nights hanging on a +shred. I told that fool of a Kirton before he married her that she had no +constitution. I suppose you and Hart were finely disappointed to find I +was not in London when you got there." + +"Agreeably disappointed, I think," said Maude, languidly. + +"Indeed! It's civil of you to say so." + +"On account of the smallness of the house," added Maude, endeavouring to +be polite. "We hardly knew how to manage in it ourselves." + +"You wrote me word to take it. As to me, I can accommodate myself to any +space. Where there's plenty of room, I take plenty; where there's not, I +can put up with a closet. I have made Mirrable give me my old rooms here: +you of course take Hart's now." + +"I am very tired," said Maude. "I think I will have some tea, and go to +bed." + +"Tea!" shrieked the dowager. "I have not yet had dinner. And it's +waiting; that's more." + +"You can dine without me, mamma," she said, walking upstairs to the new +rooms. The dowager stared, and followed her. There was an indescribable +something in Maude's manner that she did not like; it spoke of incipient +rebellion, of an influence that had been, but was now thrown off. If she +lost caste once, with Maude, she knew that she lost it for ever. + +"You could surely take a little dinner, Maude. You must keep up your +strength, you know." + +"Not any dinner, thank you. I shall be all right to-morrow, when I've +slept off my fatigue." + +"Well, I know I should like mine," grumbled the countess-dowager, feeling +her position in the house already altered from what it had been during +her former sojourn, when she assumed full authority, and ordered things +as she pleased, completely ignoring the new lord. + +"You can have it," said Maude. + +"They won't serve it until Hartledon arrives," was the aggrieved answer. +"I suppose he's walking up from the station. He always had a queer habit +of doing that." + +Maude lifted her eyes in slight surprise. Her solitary arrival was a +matter of fact so established to herself, that it sounded strange for any +one else to be in ignorance of it. + +"Lord Hartledon has not come down. He is remaining in London." + +The old dowager peered at Maude through her little eyes. "What's that +for?" + +"Business, I believe." + +"Don't tell me an untruth, Maude. You have quarrelled." + +"We have not quarrelled. We are perfectly good friends." + +"And do you mean to tell me that he sent you down alone?" + +"He sent the servants with me." + +"Don't be insolent, Maude. You know what I mean." + +"Why, mamma, I do not wish to be insolent. I can't tell you more, or +tell it differently. Lord Hartledon did not come down with me, and the +servants did." + +She spoke sharply. In her tired condition the petty conversation was +wearying her; and underlying everything else in her heart, was the +mortifying consciousness that he had _not_ come down with her, chafing +her temper almost beyond repression. Considering that Maude did not +profess to love her husband very much, it was astonishing how keenly she +felt this. + +"Are you and Hartledon upon good terms?" asked the countess-dowager after +a pause, during which she had never taken her eyes from her daughter's +face. + +"It would be early days to be on any other." + +"Oh," said the dowager. "And you did not write me word from Paris that +you found you had made a mistake, that you could not bear your husband! +Eh, Maude?" + +A tinge came into Maude's cheeks. "And you, mamma, told me that I was to +rule my husband with an iron hand, never allowing him to have a will of +his own, never consulting him! Both you and I were wrong," she continued +quietly. "I wrote that letter in a moment of irritation; and you were +assuming what has not proved to be a fact. I like my husband now quite +well enough to keep friends with him; his kindness to me is excessive; +but I find, with all my wish to rule him, if I had the wish, I could not +do it. He has a will of his own, and he exerts it in spite of me; and I +am quite sure he will continue to exert it, whenever he fancies he is in +the right. You never saw any one so changed from what he used to be." + +"How do you mean?" + +"I mean in asserting his own will. But he is changed in other ways. It +seems to me that he has never been quite the same man since that night in +the chapel. He has been more thoughtful; and all the old vacillation is +gone." + +The countess-dowager could not understand at all; neither did she +believe; and she only stared at Maude. + +"His _not_ coming down with me is a proof that he exercises his own will +now. I wished him to come very much, and he knew it; but you see he has +not done so." + +"And what do you say is keeping him?" repeated the countess-dowager. + +"Business--" + +"Ah," interrupted the dowager, before Maude could finish, "that's the +general excuse. Always suspect it, my dear." + +"Suspect what?" asked Maude. + +"When a man says that, and gets his wife out of the way with it, rely +upon it he is pursuing some nice little interests of his own." + +Lady Hartledon understood the implication; she felt nettled, and a flush +rose to her face. In her husband's loyalty (always excepting his feeling +towards Miss Ashton) she rested fully assured. + +"You did not allow me to finish," was the cold rejoinder. "Business _is_ +keeping him in town, for one thing; for another, I think he cannot get +over his dislike to face the Ashtons." + +"Rubbish!" cried the wrathful dowager. "He does not tell you what the +business is, does he?" she cynically added. + +"I happen to know," answered Maude. "The Ashtons are bringing an action +against him for breach of promise; and he and Mr. Carr the barrister are +trying to arrange it without its coming to a trial." + +The old lady opened her eyes and her mouth. + +"It is true. They lay the damages at ten thousand pounds!" + +With a shriek the countess-dowager began to dance. Ten thousand pounds! +Ten thousand pounds would keep her for ever, invested at good interest. +She called the parson some unworthy names. + +"I cannot give you any of the details," said Maude, in answer to the +questions pressed upon her. "Percival will never speak of it, or allow +me to do so. I learnt it--I can hardly tell you how I learnt it--by +implication, I think; for it was never expressly told me. We had a +mysterious visit one night from some old parson--parson or lawyer; and +Percival and Mr. Carr, who happened to be at our house, were closeted +with him for an hour or two. I saw they were agitated, and guessed what +it was; Dr. Ashton was bringing an action. They could not deny it." + +"The vile old hypocrite!" cried the incensed dowager. "Ten thousand +pounds! Are you sure it is as much as that, Maude?" + +"Quite. Mr. Carr told me the amount." + +"I wonder you encourage that man to your house." + +"It was one of the things I stood out against--fruitlessly," was the +quiet answer. "But I believe he means well to me; and I am sure he is +doing what he can to serve my husband. They are often together about this +business." + +"_Of course_ Hartledon resists the claim?" + +"I don't know. I think they are trying to compromise it, so that it shall +not come into court." + +"What does Hartledon think of it?" + +"It is worrying his life out. No, mamma, it is not too strong an +expression. He says nothing; but I can see that it is half killing him. +I don't believe he has slept properly since the news was brought to him." + +"What a simpleton he must be! And that man will stand up in the pulpit +to-morrow and preach of charity!" continued the dowager, turning her +animadversions upon Dr. Ashton. "You are a hypocrite too, Maude, for +trying to deceive me. You and Hartledon are _not_ on good terms; don't +tell me! He would never have let you come down alone." + +Lady Hartledon would not reply. She felt vexed with her mother, vexed +with her husband, vexed on all sides; and she took refuge in her fatigue +and was silent. + +The dowager went to church on the following day. Maude would not go. The +hot anger flushed into her face at the thought of showing herself there +for the first time, unaccompanied by her husband: to Maude's mind it +seemed that she must look to others so very much like a deserted wife. +She comes home alone; he stays in London! "Ah, why did he not come down +only for this one Sunday, and go back again--if he must have gone?" she +thought. + +A month or two ago Maude had not cared enough for him to reason like +this. The countess-dowager ensconced herself in a corner of the Hartledon +state-pew, and from her blinking eyes looked out upon the Ashtons. Anne, +with her once bright face looking rather wan, her modest demeanour; Mrs. +Ashton, so essentially a gentlewoman; the doctor, sensible, clever, +charitable, beyond all doubt a good man--a feeling came over the mind of +the sometimes obtuse woman that of all the people before her they looked +the least likely to enter on the sort of lawsuit spoken of by Maude. But +never a doubt occurred to her that they _had_ entered on it. + +Lady Hartledon remained at home, her prayer-book in her hand. She was +thinking she could steal out to the evening service; it might not be so +much noticed then, her being alone. Listlessly enough she sat, toying +with her prayer-book rather than reading it. She had never pretended to +be religious, had not been trained to be so; and reading a prayer-book, +when not in church, was quite unusual to her. But there are seasons in +a woman's life, times when peril is looked forward to, that bring thought +even to the most careless nature. Maude was trying to play at "being +good," and was reading the psalms for the day in an absent fashion, her +thoughts elsewhere; and the morning passed on. The quiet apathy of her +present state, compared with the restless fever which had stirred her +during her last sojourn at Hartledon, was remarkable. + +Suddenly there burst in upon her the countess-dowager: that estimable +lady's bonnet awry, her face scarlet, herself in a commotion. + +"I didn't suppose you'd have done it, Maude! You might play tricks upon +other people, I think, but not upon your own mother." + +The interlude was rather welcome to Maude, rousing her from her apathy. +Not for some few moments, however, could she understand the cause of +complaint. + +It appeared that the countess-dowager, with that absence of all sense of +the fitness of things which so eminently characterized her, had joined +the Ashtons after service, inquiring with quite motherly solicitude after +Mrs. Ashton's health, complimenting Anne upon her charming looks; making +herself, in short, as agreeable as she knew how, and completely ignoring +the past in regard to her son-in-law. Gentlewomen in mind and manners, +they did not repulse her, were even courteously civil; and she graciously +accompanied them across the road to the Rectory-gate, and there took a +cordial leave, saying she would look in on the morrow. + +In returning she met Dr. Ashton. He was passing her with nothing but a +bow; but he little knew the countess-dowager. She grasped his hand; said +how grieved she was not to have had an opportunity of explaining away her +part in the past; hoped he would let bygones be bygones; and finally, +whilst the clergyman was scheming how to get away from her without +absolute rudeness, she astonished him with a communication touching the +action-at-law. There ensued a little mutual misapprehension, followed by +a few emphatic words of denial from Dr. Ashton; and the countess-dowager +walked away with a scarlet face, and an explosion of anger against her +daughter. + +Lady Hartledon was not yet callous to the proprieties of life; and the +intrusion on the Ashtons, which her mother confessed to, half frightened, +half shamed her. But the dowager's wrath at having been misled bore down +everything. Dr. Ashton had entered no action whatever against Lord +Hartledon; had never thought of doing it. + +"And you, you wicked, ungrateful girl, to come home to me with such an +invention, and cause me to start off on a fool's errand! Do you suppose I +should have gone and humbled myself to those people, but for hoping to +bring the parson to a sense of what he was doing in going-in for those +enormous damages?" + +"I have not come home to you with any invention, mamma. Dr. Ashton has +entered the action." + +"He has not," raved the dowager. "It is an infamous hoax you have played +off upon me. You couldn't find any excuse for your husband's staying in +London, and so invented this. What with you, and what with Kirton's +ingratitude, I shall be driven out of house and home!" + +"I won't say another word until you are calm and can talk common sense," +said Maude, leaning back in her chair, and putting down her prayer-book. + +"Common sense! What am I talking but common sense? When a child begins to +mislead her own mother, the world ought to come to an end." + +Maude took no notice. + +There happened to be some water standing on a table, and the dowager +poured out a tumblerful and drank it, though not accustomed to the +beverage. Untying her bonnet-strings she sat down, a little calmer. + +"Perhaps you'll explain this at your convenience, Maude." + +"There is nothing to explain," was the answer. "What I told you was the +truth. The action _has_ been entered by the Ashtons." + +"And I tell you that the action has not." + +"I assure you that it has," returned Maude. "I told you of the evening we +first had notice of it, and the damages claimed; do you think I invented +that, or went to sleep and dreamt it? If Val has gone down once to that +Temple about it, he has gone fifty times. He would not go for pleasure." + +The countess-dowager sat fanning herself quietly: for her daughter's +words were gaining ground. + +"There's a mistake somewhere, Maude, and it is on your side and not mine. +I'll lay my life that no action has been entered by Dr. Ashton. The man +spoke the truth; I can read the truth when I see it as well as anyone: +his face flushed with pain and anger at such a thing being said of him. +It may not be difficult to explain this contradiction." + +"Do you think not?" returned Maude, her indifference exciting the +listener to anger. + +"_I_ should say Hartledon is deceiving you. If any action is entered +against him at all, it isn't that sort of action; or perhaps the young +lady is not Miss Ashton, but some other; he's just the kind of man to be +drawn into promising marriage to a dozen or two. Very clever of him to +palm you off with this tale: a man may get into five hundred troubles not +convenient to disclose to his wife." + +Except that Lady Hartledon's cheek flushed a little, she made no answer; +she held firmly--at least she thought she held firmly--to her own side +of the case. Her mother, on the contrary, adopted the new view, and +dismissed it from her thoughts accordingly. + +Maude went to church in the evening, sitting alone in the great pew, pale +and quiet. Anne Ashton was also alone; and the two whilom rivals, the +triumphant and the rejected, could survey each other to their heart's +content. + +Not very triumphant was Maude's feeling. Strange perhaps to say, the +suggestion of the old dowager, like instilled poison, was making its way +into her very veins. Her thoughts had been busy with the matter ever +since. One positive conviction lay in her heart--that Dr. Ashton, now +reading the first lesson before her, for he was taking the whole of the +service that evening, could not, under any circumstance, be guilty of a +false assertion or subterfuge. One solution of the difficulty presented +itself to her--that her mother, in her irascibility, had misunderstood +the Rector; and yet that was improbable. As Maude half sat, half lay back +in the pew, for the faint feeling was especially upon her that evening, +she thought she would give a great deal to set the matter at rest. + +When the service was over she took the more secluded way home; those of +the servants who had attended returning as usual by the road. On reaching +the turning where the three paths diverged, the faintness which had been +hovering over her all the evening suddenly grew worse; and but for a +friendly tree, she might have fallen. It grew better in a few moments, +but she did not yet quit her support. + +Very surprised was the Rector of Calne to come up and see Lady Hartledon +in this position. Every Sunday evening, after service, he went to visit +a man in one of the cottages, who was dying of consumption, and he was on +his way there now. He would have preferred to pass without speaking: but +Lady Hartledon looked in need of assistance; and in common Christian +kindness he could not pass her by. + +"I beg your pardon, Lady Hartledon. Are you ill?" + +She took his offered arm with her disengaged hand, as an additional +support; and her white face turned a shade whiter. + +"A sudden faintness overtook me. I am better now," she said, when able to +speak. + +"Will you allow me to walk on with you?" + +"Thank you; just a little way. If you will not mind it." + +That he must have understood the feeling which prompted the concluding +words was undoubted: and perhaps had Lady Hartledon been in possession +of her keenest senses, she might never have spoken them. Pride and health +go out of us together. Dr. Ashton took her on his arm, and they walked +slowly in the direction of the little bridge. Colour was returning to her +face, strength to her frame. + +"The heat of the day has affected you, possibly?" + +"Yes, perhaps; I have felt faint at times lately. The church was very hot +to-night." + +Nothing more was said until the bridge was gained, and then Maude +released his arm. + +"Dr. Ashton, I thank you very much. You have been a friend in need." + +"But are you sure you are strong enough to go on alone? I will escort you +to the house if you are not." + +"Quite strong enough now. Thank you once again." + +As he was bowing his farewell, a sudden impulse to speak, and set the +matter that was troubling her at rest, came over her. Without a moment's +deliberation, without weighing her words, she rushed upon it; the +ostensible plea an apology for her mother's having spoken to him. + +"Yes, I told Lady Kirton she was labouring under some misapprehension," +he quietly answered. + +"Will you forgive _me_ also for speaking of it?" she murmured. "Since my +mother came home with the news of what you said, I have been lost in a +sea of conjecture: I could not attend to the service for dwelling upon +it, and might as well not have been in church--a curious confession to +make to you, Dr. Ashton. Is it indeed true that you know nothing of +the matter?" + +"Lady Kirton told me in so many words that I had entered an action +against Lord Hartledon for breach of promise, and laid the damages at ten +thousand pounds," returned Dr. Ashton, with a plainness of speech and a +cynical manner that made her blush. And she saw at once that he had done +nothing of the sort; saw it without any more decisive denial. + +"But the action has been entered," said Lady Hartledon. + +"I beg your pardon, madam. Lord Hartledon is, I should imagine, the only +man living who could suppose me capable of such a thing." + +"And you have _not_ entered on it!" she reiterated, half bewildered by +the denial. + +"Most certainly not. When I parted with Lord Hartledon on a certain +evening, which probably your ladyship remembers, I washed my hands of him +for good, desiring never to approach him in any way whatever, never hear +of him, never see him again. Your husband, madam, is safe for me: I +desire nothing better than to forget that such a man is in existence." + +Lifting his hat, he walked away. And Lady Hartledon stood and gazed after +him as one in a dream. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +MR. CARR AT WORK. + + +Thomas Carr was threading his way through the mazy precincts of Gray's +Inn, with that quick step and absorbed manner known only, I think, to the +busy man of our busy metropolis. He was on his way to make some inquiries +of a firm of solicitors, Messrs. Kedge and Reck, strangers to him in all +but name. + +Up some dark and dingy stairs, he knocked at a dark and dingy door: +which, after a minute, opened of itself by some ingenious contrivance, +and let him into a passage, whence he turned into a room, where two +clerks were writing at a desk. + +"Can I see Mr. Kedge?" + +"Not in," said one of the clerks, without looking up. + +"Mr. Reck, then?" + +"Not in." + +"When will either of them be in?" continued the barrister; thinking that +if he were Messrs. Kedge and Reck the clerk would get his discharge for +incivility. + +"Can't say. What's your business?" + +"My business is with them: not with you." + +"You can see the managing clerk." + +"I wish to see one of the partners." + +"Could you give your name?" continued the gentleman, equably. + +Mr. Carr handed in his card. The clerk glanced at it, and surreptitiously +showed it to his companion; and both of them looked up at him. Mr. Carr +of the Temple was known by reputation, and they condescended to become +civil. + +"Take a seat for a moment, sir," said the one. "I'll inquire how long Mr. +Kedge will be; but Mr. Reek's not in town to-day." + +A few minutes, and Thomas Carr found himself in a small square room with +the head of the firm, a youngish man and somewhat of a dandy, especially +genial in manner, as though in contrast to his clerk. He welcomed the +rising barrister. + +"There's as much difficulty in getting to see you as if you were Pope of +Rome," cried Mr. Carr, good humouredly. + +The lawyer laughed. "Hopkins did not know you: and strangers are +generally introduced to Mr. Reck, or to our managing clerk. What can +I do for you, Mr. Carr?" + +"I don't know that you can do anything for me," said Mr. Carr, seating +himself; "but I hope you can. At the present moment I am engaged in +sifting a piece of complicated business for a friend; a private matter +entirely, which it is necessary to keep private. I am greatly interested +in it myself, as you may readily believe, when it is keeping me from +circuit. Indeed it may almost be called my own affair," he added, +observing the eyes of the lawyer fixed upon him, and not caring they +should see into his business too clearly. "I fancy you have a clerk, or +had a clerk, who is cognizant of one or two points in regard to it: can +you put me in the way of finding out where he is? His name is Gordon." + +"Gordon! We have no clerk of that name. Never had one, that I remember. +How came you to fancy it?" + +"I heard it from my own clerk, Taylor. One day last week I happened to +say before him that I'd give a five-pound note out of my pocket to get +at the present whereabouts of this man Gordon. Taylor is a shrewd +fellow; full of useful bits of information, and knows, I really believe, +three-fourths of London by name. He immediately said a young man of that +name was with Messrs. Kedge and Reck, of Gray's Inn, either as clerk, or +in some other capacity; and when he described this clerk of yours, I felt +nearly sure that it was the man I am looking for. I got Taylor to make +inquiries, and he did, I believe, of one of your clerks; but he could +learn nothing, except that no one of that name was connected with you +now. Taylor persists that he is or was connected with you; and so +I thought the shortest plan to settle the matter was to ask yourselves." + +"We have no clerk of that name," repeated Mr. Kedge, pushing back some +papers on the table. "Never had one." + +"Understand," said Mr. Carr, thinking it just possible the lawyer might +be mistaking his motives, "I have nothing to allege against the man, and +do not seek to injure him. The real fact is, that I do not want to see +him or to be brought into personal contact with him; I only want to know +whether he is in London, and, if so, where?" + +"I assure you he is not connected with us," repeated Mr. Kedge. "I would +tell you so in a moment if he were." + +"Then I can only apologise for having troubled you," said the barrister, +rising. "Taylor must have been mistaken. And yet I would have backed his +word, when he positively asserts a thing, against the world. I hardly +ever knew him wrong." + +Mr. Kedge was playing with the locket on his watch-chain, his head bent +in thought. + +"Wait a moment, Mr. Carr. I remember now that we took a clerk temporarily +into the office in the latter part of last year. His writing did not +suit, and we kept him only a week or two. I don't know what his name was, +but it might have been Gordon." + +"Do you remember what sort of a man he was?" asked Mr. Carr, somewhat +eagerly. + +"I really do not. You see, I don't come much into contact with our +clerks. Reck does; but he's not here to-day. I fancy he had red hair." + +"Gordon had reddish hair." + +"You had better see Kimberly," said the solicitor, ringing a bell. "He is +our managing clerk, and knows everything." + +A grey-haired, silent-looking man came in with stooping shoulders. Mr. +Kedge, without any circumlocution, asked whether he remembered any clerk +of the name of Gordon having been in the house. Mr. Kimberly responded by +saying that they never had one in the house of the name. + +"Well, I thought not," observed the principal. "There was one had in for +a short time, you know, while Hopkins was ill. I forget his name." + +"His name was Druitt, sir. We employed a man of the name of Gorton to do +some outdoor business for us at times," continued the managing clerk, +turning his eyes on the barrister; "but not lately." + +"What sort of business?" + +"Serving writs." + +"Gorton is not Gordon," remarked Mr. Kedge, with legal acumen. "By the +way, Kimberly, I have heard nothing of Gorton lately. What has become of +him?" + +"I have not the least idea, sir. We parted in a huff, so he wouldn't +perhaps be likely to come in my way again. Some business that he +mismanaged, if you remember, sir, down at Calne." + +"When he arrested one man for another," laughed the lawyer, "and got +entangled in a coroner's inquest, and I don't know what all." + +Mr. Carr had pricked up his ears, scarcely daring to breathe. But his +manner was careless to a degree. + +"The man he arrested being Lord Hartledon; the man he ought to have +arrested being the Honourable Percival Elster," he interposed, laughing. + +"What! do you know about it?" cried the lawyer. + +"I remember hearing of it; I was intimate with Mr. Elster at the time." + +"He has since become Lord Hartledon." + +"Yes. But about this Gorton! I should not be in the least surprised if he +is the man I am inquiring for. Can you describe him to me, Mr. Kimberly?" + +"He is a short, slight man, under thirty, with red hair and whiskers." + +Mr. Carr nodded. + +"Light hair with a reddish tinge it has been described to me. Do you +happen to be at all acquainted with his antecedents?" + +"Not I; I know nothing about, the man," said Mr. Kedge. "Kimberly does, +perhaps." + +"No, sir," dissented Kimberly. "He had been to Australia, I believe; and +that's all I know about him." + +"It is the same man," said Mr. Carr, quietly. "And if you can tell me +anything about him," he continued, turning to the older man, "I shall be +exceedingly obliged to you. To begin with--when did you first know him?" + +But at this juncture an interruption occurred. Hopkins the discourteous +came in with a card, which he presented to his principal. The gentleman +was waiting to see Mr. Kedge. Two more clients were also waiting, he +added, Thomas Carr rose, and the end of it was that he went with Mr. +Kimberly to his own room. + +"It's Carr of the Inner Temple," whispered Mr. Kedge in his clerk's ear. + +"Oh, I know him, sir." + +"All right. If you can help him, do so." + +"I first knew Gorton about fifteen months ago," observed the clerk, when +they were shut in together. "A friend of mine, now dead, spoke of him to +me as a respectable young fellow who had fallen in the world, and asked +if I could help him to some employment. I think he told me somewhat of +his history; but I quite forget it. I know he was very low down then, +with scarcely bread to eat." + +"Did this friend of yours call him Gorton or Gordon?" interrupted Mr. +Carr. + +"Gorton. I never heard him called Gordon at all. I remember seeing a +book of his that he seemed to set some store by. It was printed in old +English, and had his name on the title-page: 'George Gorton. From his +affectionate father, W. Gorton.' I employed him in some outdoor work. +He knew London perfectly well, and seemed to know people too." + +"And he had been to Australia?" + +"He had been to Australia, I feel sure. One day he accidentally let slip +some words about Melbourne, which he could not well have done unless he +had seen the place. I taxed him with it, and he shuffled out of it with +some excuse; but in such a manner as to convince me he had been there." + +"And now, Mr. Kimberly, I am going to ask you another question. You spoke +of his having been at Calne; I infer that you sent him to the place on +the errand to Mr. Elster. Try to recollect whether his going there was +your own spontaneous act, or whether he was the original mover in the +journey?" + +The grey-haired clerk looked up as though not understanding. + +"You don't quite take me, I see." + +"Yes I do, sir; but I was thinking. So far as I can recollect, it was our +own spontaneous act. I am sure I had no reason to think otherwise at the +time. We had had a deal of trouble with the Honourable Mr. Elster; and +when it was found that he had left town for the family seat, we came to +the resolution to arrest him." + +Thomas Carr paused. "Do you know anything of Gordon's--or Gorton's doings +in Calne? Did you ever hear him speak of them afterwards?" + +"I don't know that I did particularly. The excuse he made to us for +arresting Lord Hartledon was, that the brothers were so much alike he +mistook the one for the other." + +"Which would infer that he knew Mr. Elster by sight." + +"It might; yes. It was not for the mistake that we discharged him; +indeed, not for anything at all connected with Calne. He did seem to have +gone about his business there in a very loose way, and to have paid less +attention to our interests than to the gossip of the place; of which +there was a tolerable amount just then, on account of Lord Hartledon's +unfortunate death. Gorton was set upon another job or two when he +returned; and one of those he contrived to mismanage so woefully, that +I would give him no more to do. It struck me that he must drink, or else +was accessible to a bribe." + +Mr. Carr nodded his head, thinking the latter more than probable. His +fingers were playing with a newspaper which happened to lie on the +clerk's desk; and he put the next question with a very well-assumed air +of carelessness, as if it were but the passing thought of the moment. + +"Did he ever talk about Mr. Elster?" + +"Never but once. He came to my house one evening to tell me he had +discovered the hiding-place of a gentleman we were looking for. I was +taking my solitary glass of gin and water after supper, the only +stimulant I ever touch--and that by the doctor's orders--and I could not +do less than ask him to help himself. You see, sir, we did not look upon +him as a common sheriff's man: and he helped himself pretty freely. That +made him talkative. I fancy his head cannot stand much; and he began +rambling upon recent affairs at Calne; he had not been back above a week +then--" + +"And he spoke of Mr. Elster?" + +"He spoke a good deal of him as the new Lord Hartledon, all in a rambling +sort of way. He hinted that it might be in his power to bring home to him +some great crime." + +"The man must have been drunk indeed!" remarked Mr. Carr, with the most +perfect assumption of indifference; a very contrast to the fear that shot +through his heart. "What crime, pray? I hope he particularized it." + +"What he seemed to hint at was some unfair play in connection with his +brother's death," said the old clerk, lowering his voice. "'A man at his +wits' end for money would do many queer things,' he remarked." + +Mr. Carr's eyes flashed. "What a dangerous fool he must be! You surely +did not listen to him!" + +"I, sir! I stopped him pretty quickly, and bade him sew up his mouth +until he came to his sober senses again. Oh, they make great simpletons +of themselves, some of these young fellows, when they get a little drink +into them." + +"They do," said the barrister. "Did he ever allude to the matter again?" + +"Never; and when I saw him the next day, he seemed ashamed of himself, +and asked if he had not been talking a lot of nonsense. About a fortnight +after that we parted, and I have never seen him since." + +"And you really do not know what has become of him?" + +"Not at all. I should think he has left London." + +"Why?" + +"Because had he remained in it he'd be sure to have come bothering me to +employ him again; unless, indeed, he has found some one else to do it." + +"Well," said Mr. Carr, rising, "will you do me this favour? If you come +across the man again, or learn tidings of him in any way, let me know it +at once. I do not want him to hear of me, or that I have made inquiries +about him. I only wish to ascertain _where_ he is, if that be possible. +Any one bringing me this information privately will find it well worth +his while." + +He went forth into the busy streets again, sick at heart; and upon +reaching his chambers wrote a note for a detective officer, and put some +business into his hands. + +Meanwhile Lord Hartledon remained in London. When the term for which +they had engaged the furnished house was expired he took lodgings in +Grafton Street; and there he stayed, his frame of mind restless and +unsatisfactory. Lady Hartledon wrote to him sometimes, and he answered +her. She said not a word about the discovery she had made in regard to +the alleged action-at-law; but she never failed in every letter to ask +what he was doing, and when he was coming home--meaning to Hartledon. +He put her off in the best way he could: he and Carr were very busy +together, he said: as to home, he could not mention any particular time. +And Lady Hartledon bottled up her curiosity and her wrath, and waited +with what patience she possessed. + +The truth was--and, perhaps, the reader may have divined it--that graver +motives than the sensitive feeling of not liking to face the Ashtons were +keeping Lord Hartledon from his wife and home. He had once, in his +bachelor days, wished himself a savage in some remote desert, where his +civilized acquaintance could not come near him; he had a thousand times +more reason to wish himself one now. + +One dusty day, when the excessive heat of summer was on the wane, he went +down to Mr. Carr's chambers, and found that gentleman out. Not out for +long, the clerk thought; and sat down and waited. The room he was in +looked out on the cool garden, the quiet river; in the one there was not +a soul except Mr. Broom himself, who had gone in to watch the progress +of his chrysanthemums, and was stooping lovingly over the beds; on the +other a steamer, freighted with a straggling few, was paddling up the +river against the tide, and a barge with its brown sail was coming down +in all its picturesque charm. The contrast between this quiet scene and +the bustling, dusty, jostling world he had come in from, was grateful +even to his disturbed heart; and he felt half inclined to go round to +the garden and fling himself on the lawn as a man might do who was free +from care. + +Mr. Carr indulged in the costly luxury of three rooms in the Temple; his +sitting-room, which was his work-room, a bedroom, and a little outer +room, the sanctum of his clerk. Lord Hartledon was in the sitting-room, +but he could hear the clerk moving about in the ante-room, as if he had +no writing on hand that morning. When tired of waiting, he called him in. + +"Mr. Taylor, how long do you think he will be? I've been dozing, I +think." + +"Well, I thought he'd have been here before now, my lord. He generally +tells me if he is going out for any length of time; but he said nothing +to-day." + +"A newspaper would be something to while away one's time, or a book," +grumbled Hartledon. "Not those," glancing at a book-case full of +ponderous law-volumes. + +"Your lordship has taken the cream out of them already," remarked the +clerk, with a laugh; and Hartledon's brow knitted at the words. He had +"taken the cream" out of those old law-books, if studying them could do +it, for he had been at them pretty often of late. + +But Mr. Taylor's remarks had no ulterior meaning. Being a shrewd man, he +could not fail to suspect that Lord Hartledon was in a scrape of some +sort; but from a word dropped by his master he supposed it to involve +nothing more than a question of debt; and he never suspected that the +word had been dropped purposely. "Scamps would claim money twice over +when they could," said Mr. Carr; and Elster was a careless man, always +losing his receipts. He was a short, slight man, this clerk--in build +something like his master--with an intelligent, silent face, a small, +sharp nose, and fair hair. He had been born a gentleman, he was wont to +say; and indeed he looked one; but he had not received an education +commensurate with that fact, and had to make his own way in the world. +He might do it yet, perhaps, he remarked one day to Lord Hartledon; and +certainly, if steady perseverance could effect it, he would: all his +spare time was spent in study. + +"He has not gone to one of those blessed consultations in somebody's +chambers, has he?" cried Val. "I have known them last three hours." + +"I have known them last longer than that," said the clerk equably. "But +there are none on just now." + +"I can't think what has become of him. He made an appointment with me for +this morning. And where's his _Times_?" + +Mr. Taylor could not tell where; he had been looking for the newspaper on +his own account. It was not to be found; and they could only come to the +conclusion that the barrister had taken it out with him. + +"I wish you'd go out and buy me one," said Val. + +"I'll go with pleasure, my lord. But suppose any one comes to the door?" + +"Oh, I'll answer it. They'll think Carr has taken on a new clerk." + +Mr. Taylor laughed, and went out. Hartledon, tired of sitting, began +to pace the room and the ante-room. Most men would have taken their +departure; but he had nothing to do; he had latterly shunned that portion +of the world called society; and was as well in Mr. Carr's chambers as +in his own lodgings, or in strolling about with his troubled heart. +While thus occupied, there came a soft tap to the outer door--as was +sure to be the case, the clerk being absent--and Val opened it. A +middle-aged, quiet-looking man stood there, who had nothing specially +noticeable in his appearance, except a pair of deep-set dark eyes, under +bushy eyebrows that were turning grey. + +"Mr. Carr within?" + +"Mr. Carr's not in," replied the temporary clerk. "I dare say you can +wait." + +"Likely to be long?" + +"I should think not. I have been waiting for him these two hours." + +The applicant entered, and sat down in the clerk's room. Lord Hartledon +went into the other, and stood drumming on the window-pane, as he gazed +out upon the Temple garden. + +"I'd go, but for that note of Carr's," he said to himself. "If--Halloa! +that's his voice at last." + +Mr. Carr and his clerk had returned together. The former, after a few +moments, came in to Lord Hartledon. + +"A nice fellow you are, Carr! Sending me word to be here at eleven +o'clock, and then walking off for two mortal hours!" + +"I sent you word to wait for me at your own home!" + +"Well, that's good!" returned Val. "It said, 'Be here at eleven,' as +plainly as writing could say it." + +"And there was a postscript over the leaf telling you, on second thought, +_not_ to be here, but to wait at home for me," said Mr. Carr. "I +remembered a matter of business that would take me up your way this +morning, and thought I'd go on to you. It's just your careless fashion, +Hartledon, reading only half your letters! You should have turned it +over." + +"Who was to think there was anything on the other side? Folk don't turn +their letters over from curiosity when they are concluded on the first +page." + +"I never had a letter in my life but I turned it over to make sure," +observed the more careful barrister. "I have had my walk for nothing." + +"And I have been cooling my heels here! And you took the newspaper with +you!" + +"No, I did not. Churton sent in from his rooms to borrow it." + +"Well, let the misunderstanding go, and forgive me for being cross. Do +you know, Carr, I think I am growing ill-tempered from trouble. What +news have you for me?" + +"I'll tell you by-and-by. Do you know who that is in the other room?" + +"Not I. He seemed to stare me inside-out in a quiet way as I let him in." + +"Ay. It's Green, the detective. At times a question occurs to me whether +that's his real name, or one assumed in his profession. He has come to +report at last. Had you better remain?" + +"Why not?" + +Mr. Carr looked dubious. + +"You can make some excuse for my presence." + +"It's not that. I'm thinking if you let slip a word--" + +"Is it likely?" + +"Inadvertently, I mean." + +"There's no fear. You have not mentioned my name to him?" + +"I retort in your own words--Is it likely? He does not know why he is +being employed or what I want with the man I wish traced. At present he +is working, as far as that goes, in the dark. I might have put him on a +false scent, just as cleverly and unsuspiciously as I dare say he could +put me; but I've not done it. What's the matter with you to-day, +Hartledon? You look ill." + +"I only look what I am, then," was the answer. "But I'm no worse +than usual. I'd rather be transported--I'd rather be hanged, for that +matter--than lead the life of misery I am leading. At times I feel +inclined to give in, but then comes the thought of Maude." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +SOMEBODY ELSE AT WORK. + + +They were shut in together: the detective officer, Mr. Carr, and Lord +Hartledon. "You may speak freely before this gentleman," observed Mr. +Carr, as if in apology for a third being present. "He knows the parties, +and is almost as much interested in the affair as I am." + +The detective glanced at Lord Hartledon with his deep eyes, but he did +not know him, and took out a note-book, on which some words and figures +were dotted down, hieroglyphics to any one's eyes but his own. Squaring +his elbows on the table, he begun abruptly; and appeared to have a habit +of cutting short his words and sentences. + +"Haven't succeeded yet as could wish, Mr. Carr; at least not altogether: +have had to be longer over it, too, than thought for. George Gordon: +Scotch birth, so far as can learn; left an orphan; lived mostly in +London. Served time to medical practitioner, locality Paddington. Idle, +visionary, loose in conduct, good-natured, fond of roving. Surgeon +wouldn't keep him as assistant; might have done it, he says, had G.G. +been of settled disposition: saw him in drink three times. Next turns +up in Scotland, assistant to a doctor there; name Mair, locality +Kirkcudbrightshire. Remained less than a year; left, saying was going +to Australia. So far," broke off the speaker, raising his eyes to Mr. +Carr's, "particulars tally with the information supplied by you." + +"Just so." + +"Then my further work began," continued Mr. Green. "Afraid what I've got +together won't be satisfactory; differ from you in opinion, at any rate. +G.G. went to Australia; no doubt of that; friend of his got a letter or +two from him while there: last one enclosed two ten-pound notes, borrowed +by G.G. before he went out. Last letter said been up to the diggings; +very successful; coming home with his money, mentioned ship he meant to +sail in. Hadn't been in Australia twelve months." + +"Who was the friend?" asked Mr. Carr. + +"Respectable man; gentleman; former fellow-pupil with Gordon in London; +in good practice for himself now; locality Kensington. After last letter, +friend perpetually looking out for G.G. G.G. did not make his appearance; +conclusion friend draws is he did not come back. Feels sure Gordon, +whether rich or poor, in ill-report or good-report, would have come +direct to him." + +"I happen to know that he did come back," said Mr. Carr. + +"Don't think it," was the unceremonious rejoinder. + +"I know it positively. And that he was in London." + +The detective looked over his notes, as if completely ignoring Mr. Carr's +words. + +"You heard, gentlemen, of that mutiny on board the ship _Morning Star_, +some three years ago? Made a noise at the time." + +"Well?" + +"Ringleader was this same man, George Gordon." + +"No!" exclaimed Mr. Carr. + +"No reasonable doubt about it. Friend of his feels none: can't +understand how G.G. could have turned suddenly cruel; never was that. +Pooh! when men have been leading lawless lives in the bush, perhaps taken +regularly to drinking--which G.G. was inclined to before--they're ready +for any crime under the sun." + +"But how do you connect Gordon with the ringleader of that diabolical +mutiny?" + +"Easy enough. Same name, George Gordon: wrote to a friend the ship he was +coming home in--_Morning Star_. It _was_ the same; price on G.G.'s head +to this day: shouldn't mind getting it. Needn't pother over it, sir; +'twas Gordon: but he'd never put his foot in London." + +"If true, it would account for his not showing himself to his +friend--assuming that he did come back," observed Mr. Carr. + +"Friend says not. Sure that G.G., whatever he might have been guilty of, +would go to him direct; knew he might depend on him in any trouble. A +proof, he argues, that G.G. never came back." + +"But I tell you he did come back," repeated the barrister. "Strange the +similarity of name never struck me," he added, turning to Lord Hartledon. +"I took some interest in that mutiny at the time; but it never occurred +to me to connect this man or his name with it. A noted name, at any rate, +if not a very common one." + +Lord Hartledon nodded. He had sat silent throughout, a little apart, his +face somewhat turned from them, as though the business did not concern +him. + +"And now I will relate to you what more I know of Gordon," resumed Mr. +Carr, moving his chair nearer the detective, and so partially screening +Lord Hartledon. "He was in London last year, employed by Kedge and Reck, +of Gray's Inn, to serve writs. What he had done with himself from the +time of the mutiny--allowing that he was identical with the Gordon of +that business--I dare say no one living could tell, himself excepted. He +was calling himself Gorton last autumn. Not much of a change from his own +name." + +"George Gorton," assented the detective. + +"Yes, George Gorton. I knew this much when I first applied to you. +I did not mention it because I preferred to let you go to work without +it. Understand me; that it is the same man, I _know_; but there are +nevertheless discrepancies in the case that I cannot reconcile; and I +thought you might possibly arrive at some knowledge of the man without +this clue better than with it." + +"Sorry to differ from you, Mr. Carr; must hold to the belief that George +Gorton, employed at Kedge and Reck's, was not the same man at all," came +the cool and obstinate rejoinder. "Have sifted the apparent similarity +between the two, and drawn conclusions accordingly." + +The remark implied that the detective was wiser on the subject of George +Gorton than Mr. Carr had bargained for, and a shadow of apprehension +stole over him. It was by no means his wish that the sharp detective and +the man should come into contact with each other; all he wanted was to +find out where he was at present, _not_ that he should be meddled with. +This he had fully explained in the first instance, and the other had +acquiesced in his curt way. + +"You are thinking me uncommon clever, getting on the track of George +Gorton, when nothing on the surface connects him with the man wanted," +remarked the detective, with professional vanity. "Came upon it +accidentally; as well confess it; don't want to assume more credit than's +due. It was in this way. Evening following your instructions, had to see +managing clerk of Kedge and Reck; was engaged on a little matter for +them. Business over, he asked me if I knew anything of a man named George +Gorton, or Gordon--as I seemed to know something of pretty well +everybody. Having just been asked here about George Gordon, I naturally +connected the two questions together. Inquired of Kimberly _why_ he +suspected his clerk Gorton should be Gordon; Kimberly replied he did not +suspect him, but a gentleman did, who had been there that day. This put +me on Gorton's track." + +"And you followed it up?" + +"Of course; keeping my own counsel. Took it up in haste, though; no +deliberation; went off to Calne, without first comparing notes with +Gordon's friend the surgeon." + +"To Calne!" explained Mr. Carr, while Lord Hartledon turned his head and +took a sharp look at the speaker. + +A nod was the only answer. "Got down; thought at first as you do, Mr. +Carr, that man was the same, and was on right track. Went to work in my +own way; was a countryman just come into a snug bit of inheritance, +looking out for a corner of land. Wormed out a bit here and a bit there; +heard this from one, that from another; nearly got an interview with my +Lord Hartledon himself, as candidate for one of his farms." + +"Lord Hartledon was not at Calne, I think," interrupted Mr. Carr, +speaking impulsively. + +"Know it now; didn't then; and wanted, for own purposes, to get a sight +of him and a word with him. Went to his place: saw a queer old creature +in yellow gauze; saw my lord's wife, too, at a distance; fine woman; got +intimate with butler, named Hedges; got intimate with two or three more; +altogether turned the recent doings of Mr. Gorton inside out." + +"Well?" said Mr. Carr, in his surprise. + +"Care to hear 'em?" continued the detective, after a moment's pause; and +a feeling crossed Mr. Carr, that if ever he had a deep man to deal with +it was this one, in spite of his apparent simplicity. "Gorton went down +on his errand for Kedge and Reck, writ in pocket for Mr. Elster; had +boasted he knew him. Can't quite make out whether he did or not; any +rate, served writ on Lord Hartledon by mistake. Lordship made a joke of +it; took up the matter as a brother ought; wrote himself to Kedge and +Reck to get it settled. Brothers quarrelled; day or two, and elder was +drowned, nobody seems to know how. Gorton stopped on, against orders from +Kimberly; said afterwards, by way of excuse, had been served with summons +to attend inquest. Couldn't say much at inquest, or _didn't_; was asked +if he witnessed accident; said 'No,' but some still think he did. Showed +himself at Hartledon afterwards trying to get interview with new lord; +new lord wouldn't see him, and butler turned him out. Gorton in a rage, +went back to inn, got some drink, said he might be able to _make_ his +lordship see him yet; hinted at some secret, but too far gone to know +what he said; began boasting of adventures in Australia. Loose man there, +one Pike, took him in charge, and saw him off by rail for London." + +"Yes?" said Mr. Carr, for the speaker had stopped. + +"That's pretty near all as far as Gorton goes. Got a clue to an address +in London, where he might be heard of: got it oddly, too; but that's no +matter. Came up again and went to address; could learn nothing; tracked +here, tracked there, both for Gordon and Gorton; found Gorton disappeared +close upon time he was cast adrift by Kimberly. Not in London as far as +can be traced; where gone, can't tell yet. So much done, summed up my +experiences and came here to-day to state them." + +"Proceed," said Mr. Carr. + +The detective put his note-book in his pocket, and with his elbows still +on the table, pressed his fingers together alternately as he stated his +points, speaking less abruptly than before. + +"My conclusion is--the Gordon you spoke to me about was the Gordon who +led the mutiny on board the _Morning Star_; that he never, after that, +came back to England; has never been heard of, in short, by any living +soul in it. That the Gorton employed by Kedge and Reck was another man +altogether. Neither is to be traced; the one may have found his grave in +the sea years ago; the other has disappeared out of London life since +last October, and I can't trace how or where." + +Mr. Carr listened in silence. To reiterate that the two men were +identical, would have been waste of time, since he could not avow how +he knew it, or give the faintest clue. The detective himself had +unconsciously furnished a proof. + +"Will you tell me your grounds for believing them to be different men?" +he asked. + +"Nay," said the keen detective, "the shortest way would be for you to +give me your grounds for thinking them to be the same." + +"I cannot do it," said Mr. Carr. "It might involve--no, I cannot do it." + +"Well, I suspected so. I don't mind mentioning one or two on my side. +The description of Gorton, as I had it from Kimberly, does not accord +with that of Gordon as given me by his friend the surgeon. I wrote out +the description of Gorton, and took it to him. 'Is this Gordon?' I +asked. 'No, it is not,' said he; and I'm sure he spoke the truth." + +"Gordon, on his return from Australia, might be a different-looking man +from the Gordon who went to it." + +"And would be, no doubt. But see here: Gorton was not disguised; Gordon +would not dare to be in London without being so; his head's not worth a +day's purchase. Fancy his walking about with only one letter in his name +altered! Rely upon it, Mr. Carr, you are mistaken; Gordon would no more +dare come back and put his head into the lion's mouth than you'd jump +into a fiery furnace. He couldn't land without being dropped upon: the +man was no common offender, and we've kept our eyes open. And that's +all," added the detective, after a pause. "Not very satisfactory, is it, +Mr. Carr? But, such as it is, I think you may rely upon it, in spite of +your own opinion. Meanwhile, I'll keep on the look-out for Gorton, and +tell you if he turns up." + +The conference was over, and Mr. Green took his departure. Thomas Carr +saw him out himself, returned and sat down in a reverie. + +"It's a curious tale," said Lord Hartledon. + +"I'm thinking how the fact, now disclosed, of Gordon's being Gordon of +the mutiny, affects you," remarked Mr. Carr. + +"You believe him to be the same?" + +"I see no reason to doubt it. It's not probable that two George Gordons +should take their passage home in the _Morning Star_. Besides, it +explains points that seemed incomprehensible. I could not understand +why you were not troubled by this man, but rely upon it he has found it +expedient to go into effectual hiding, and dare not yet come out of it. +This fact is a very great hold upon him; and if he turns round on you, +you may keep him in check with it. Only let me alight on him; I'll so +frighten him as to cause him to ship himself off for life." + +"I don't like that detective's having gone down to Calne," remarked Lord +Hartledon. + +Neither did Mr. Carr, especially if Gordon, or Gorton, should have become +talkative, as there was reason to believe he had. + +"Gordon is in England, and in hiding; probably in London, for there's no +place where you may hide so effectually. One thing I am astonished at: +that he should show himself openly as George Gorton." + +"Look here, Carr," said Lord Hartledon, leaning forward; "I don't +believe, in spite of you and the detective, that Gordon, our Gordon, was +the one connected with the mutiny. I might possibly get a description +of that man from Gum of Calne; for his son was coming home in the same +ship--was one of those killed." + +"Who's Gum of Calne?" + +"The parish clerk, and a very respectable man. Mirrable, our housekeeper +whom you have seen, is related to them. Gum went to Liverpool at the +time, I know, and saw the remnant of the passengers those pirates had +spared; he was sure to hear a full description of Gordon. If ever I visit +Hartledon again I'll ask him." + +"If ever you visit Hartledon again!" echoed Mr. Carr. "Unless you leave +the country--as I advise you to do--you cannot help visiting Hartledon." + +"Well, I would almost as soon be hanged!" cried Val. "And now, what do +you want me for, and why have you kept me here?" + +Mr. Carr drew his chair nearer to Lord Hartledon. They alone knew their +own troubles, and sat talking long after the afternoon was over. Mr. +Taylor came to the room; it was past his usual hour of departure. + +"I suppose I can go, sir?" + +"Not just yet," replied Mr. Carr. + +Hartledon took out his watch, and wondered whether it had been galloping, +when he saw how late it was. "You'll come home and dine with me, Carr?" + +"I'll follow you, if you like," was the reply. "I have a matter or two to +attend to first." + +A few minutes more, and Lord Hartledon and his care went out. Mr. Carr +called in his clerk. + +"I want to know how you came to learn that the man I asked you about, +Gordon, was employed by Kedge and Reck?" + +"I heard it through a man named Druitt," was the ready answer. "Happening +to ask him--as I did several people--whether he knew any George Gordon, +he at once said that a man of that name was at Kedge and Reck's, where +Druitt himself had been temporarily employed." + +"Ah," said Mr. Carr, remembering this same Druitt had been mentioned to +him. "But the man was called Gorton, not Gordon. You must have caught up +the wrong name, Taylor. Or perhaps he misunderstood you. That's all; you +may go now." + +The clerk departed. Mr. Carr took his hat and followed him down; but +before joining Lord Hartledon he turned into the Temple Gardens, and +strolled towards the river; a few moments of fresh air--fresh to those +hard-worked denizens of close and crowded London--seemed absolutely +necessary to the barrister's heated brain. + +He sat down on a bench facing the water, and bared his brow to the +breeze. A cool head, his; never a cooler brought thought to bear upon +perplexity; nevertheless it was not feeling very collected now. He could +not reconcile sundry discrepancies in the trouble he was engaged in +fathoming, and he saw no release whatever for Lord Hartledon. + +"It has only complicated the affair," he said, as he watched the steamers +up and down, "this calling in Green the detective, and the news he +brings. Gordon the Gordon of the mutiny! I don't like it: the other +Gordon, simple enough and not bad-hearted, was easy to deal with in +comparison; this man, pirate, robber, murderer, will stand at nothing. We +should have a hold on him, it's true, in his own crime; but what's to +prevent his keeping himself out of the way, and selling Hartledon to +another? Why he has not sold him yet, I can't think. Unless for some +reason he is waiting his time." + +He put on his hat and began to count the barges on the other side, to +banish thought. But it would not be banished, and he fell into the train +again. + +"Mair's behaving well; with Christian kindness; but it's bad enough to be +even in _his_ power. There's something in Lord Hartledon he 'can't help +loving,' he writes. Who can? Here am I, giving up circuit--such a thing +as never was heard of--calling him friend still, and losing my rest at +night for him! Poor Val! better he had been the one to die!" + +"Please, sir, could you tell us the time?" + +The spell was broken, and Mr. Carr took out his watch as he turned his +eyes on a ragged urchin who had called to him from below. + +The tide was down; and sundry Arabs were regaling their naked feet in the +mud, sporting and shouting. The evening drew in earlier than they did, +and the sun had already set. + +Quitting the garden, Mr. Carr stepped into a hansom, and was conveyed to +Grafton Street. He found Lord Hartledon knitting his brow over a letter. + +"Maude is growing vexed in earnest," he began, looking up at Mr. Carr. +"She insists upon knowing the reason that I do not go home to her." + +"I don't wonder at it. You ought to do one of two things: go, or--" + +"Or what, Carr?" + +"You know. Never go home again." + +"I wish I was out of the world!" cried the unhappy man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +AT HARTLEDON. + + + "Hartledon, + + "I wonder what you _think_ of yourself, Galloping about _Rotten Row_ + with women when your wife's _dying_. Of _course_ it's not your fault + that reports of your goings-on _reach_ her here oh dear no. You are a + moddel husband you are, sending her down here _out of the way_ that you + may take your pleasure. Why did you _marry her_, nobody wanted you to + she sits and _mopes_ and _weeps_ and she's going into the same way that + her father _went_, you'll be glad no doubt to hear it it's what you're + _aiming_ at, once she is in _Calne churchyard_ the _field_ will be open + for your Anne Ashton. I can tell you that if you've a spark of _proper + feeling_ you'll come _down_ for its killing her, + + "Your wicked mother, + + "C. Kirton." + +Lord Hartledon turned this letter about in his hand. He scarcely noticed +the mistake at the conclusion: the dowager had doubtless intended to +imply that _he_ was wicked, and the slip of the pen in her temper went +for nothing. + +Galloping about Rotten Row with women! + +Hartledon sent his thoughts back, endeavouring to recollect what could +have given rise to this charge. One morning, after a sleepless night, +when he had tossed and turned on his uneasy bed, and risen unrefreshed, +he hired a horse, for he had none in town, and went for a long ride. +Coming back he turned into Rotten Row. He could not tell why he did so, +for such places, affected by the gay, empty-headed votaries of fashion, +were little consonant to his present state. He was barely in it when a +lady's horse took fright: she was riding alone, with a groom following; +Lord Hartledon gave her his assistance, led her horse until the animal +was calm, and rode side by side with her to the end of the Row. He knew +not who she was; scarcely noticed whether she was young or old; and had +not given a remembrance to it since. + +When your wife's dying! Accustomed to the strong expressions of the +countess-dowager, he passed that over. But, "going the same way that her +father went;" he paused there, and tried to remember how her father did +"go." All he could recollect now, indeed all he knew at the time, was, +that Lord Kirton's last illness was reported to have been a lingering +one. + +Such missives as these--and the countess-dowager favoured him with more +than one--coupled with his own consciousness that he was not behaving +to his wife as he ought, took him at length down to Hartledon. That his +presence at the place so soon after his marriage was little short of an +insult to Dr. Ashton's family, his sensitive feelings told him; but his +duty to his wife was paramount, and he could not visit his sin upon her. + +She was looking very ill; was low-spirited and hysterical; and when she +caught sight of him she forgot her anger, and fell sobbing into his arms. +The countess-dowager had gone over to Garchester, and they had a few +hours' peace together. + +"You are not looking well, Maude!" + +"I know I am not. Why do you stay away from me?" + +"I could not help myself. Business has kept me in London." + +"Have _you_ been ill also? You look thin and worn." + +"One does grow to look thin in heated London," he replied evasively, +as he walked to the window, and stood there. "How is your brother, +Maude--Bob?" + +"I don't want to talk about Bob yet; I have to talk to you," she said. +"Percival, why did you practise that deceit upon me?" + +"What deceit?" + +"It was a downright falsehood; and made me look awfully foolish when +I came here and spoke of it as a fact. That action." + +Lord Hartledon made no reply. Here was one cause of his disinclination +to meet his wife--having to keep up the farce of Dr. Ashton's action. It +seemed, however, that there would no longer be any farce to keep up. Had +it exploded? He said nothing. Maude gazing at him from the sofa on which +she sat, her dark eyes looking larger than of yore, with hollow circles +round them, waited for his answer. + +"I do not know what you mean, Maude." + +"You _do_ know. You sent me down here with a tale that the Ashtons had +entered an action against you for breach of promise--damages, ten +thousand pounds--" + +"Stay an instant, Maude. I did not 'send you down' with the tale. +I particularly requested you to keep it private." + +"Well, mamma drew it out of me unawares. She vexed me with her comments +about your staying on in London, and it made me tell her why you had +stayed. She ascertained from Dr. Ashton that there was not a word of +truth in the story. Val, I betrayed it in your defence." + +He stood at the window in silence, his lips compressed. + +"I looked so foolish in the eyes of Dr. Ashton! The Sunday evening after +I came down here I had a sort of half-fainting-fit, coming home from +church. He overtook me, and was very kind, and gave me his arm. I said +a word to him; I could not help it; mamma had worried me on so; and I +learned that no such action had ever been thought of. You had no right +to subject me to the chance of such mortification. Why did you do so?" + +Lord Hartledon came from the window and sat down near his wife, his elbow +on the table. All he could do now was to make the best of it, and explain +as near to the truth as he could. + +"Maude, you must not expect full confidence on this subject, for I cannot +give it you. When I found I had reason to believe that some--some legal +proceedings were about to be instituted against me, just at the first +intimation of the trouble, I thought it must emanate from Dr. Ashton. +You took up the same idea yourself, and I did not contradict it, simply +because I could not tell you the real truth--" + +"Yes," she interrupted. "It was the night that stranger called at our +house, when you and Mr. Carr were closeted with him so long." + +He could not deny it; but he had been thankful that she should forget the +stranger and his visit. Maude waited. + +"Then it was an action, but not brought by the Ashtons?" she resumed, +finding he did not speak. "Mamma remarked that you were just the one to +propose to half-a-dozen girls." + +"It was not an action at all of that description; and I never proposed to +any girl except Miss Ashton," he returned, nettled at the remark. + +"Is it over?" + +"Not quite;" and there was some hesitation in his tone. "Carr is settling +it for me. I trust, Maude, you will never hear of it again--that it will +never trouble you." + +She sat looking at him with her wistful eyes. + +"Won't you tell me its nature?" + +"I cannot tell you, Maude, believe me. I am as candid with you as it is +possible to be; but there are some things best--best not spoken of. +Maude," he repeated, rising impulsively and taking both her hands in his, +"do you wish to earn my love--my everlasting gratitude? Then you may do +it by nevermore alluding to this." + +It was a mistaken request; an altogether unwise emotion. Better that he +had remained at the window, and drawled out a nonchalant denial. But he +was apt to be as earnestly genuine on the surface as he was in reality. +It set Lady Hartledon wondering; and she resolved to "bide her time." + +"As you please, of course, Val. But why should it agitate you?" + +"Many a little thing seems to agitate me now," he answered. "I have not +felt well of late; perhaps that's the reason." + +"I think you might have satisfied me a little better. I expect it is some +enormous debt risen up against you." + +Better she should think so! "I shall tide it over," he said aloud. "But +indeed, Maude, I cannot bear for you delicate women to be brought into +contact with these things; they are fit for us only. Think no more about +it, and rely on me to keep trouble from you if it can be kept. Where's +Bob? He is here, I suppose?" + +"Bob's in his room. He is going into a way, I think. When he wrote and +asked me if I would allow him to come here for a little change, the +medical men saying he must have it, mamma sent a refusal by return of +post; she had had enough of Bob, she said, when he was here before. But +I quietly wrote a note myself, and Bob came. He looked ill, and gets +worse instead of better." + +"What do you mean by saying he is going into a way?" asked Lord +Hartledon. + +"Consumption, or something of that sort. Papa died of it. You are not +angry with me for having Bob?" + +"Angry! My dear Maude, the house is yours; and if poor Bob stayed with us +for ever, I should welcome him as a brother. Every one likes Bob." + +"Except mamma. She does not like invalids in the house, and has been +saying you don't like it; that it was helping to keep you away. Poor Bob +had out his portmanteau and began to pack; but I told him not to mind +her; he was my guest, not hers." + +"And mine also, you might have added." + +He left the room, and went to the chamber Captain Kirton had occupied +when he was at Hartledon in the spring. It was empty, evidently not being +used; and Hartledon sent for Mirrable. She came, looking just as usual, +wearing a dark-green silk gown; for the twelve-month had expired, and +their mourning was over. + +"Captain Kirton is in the small blue rooms facing south, my lord. They +were warmer for him than these." + +"Is he very ill, Mirrable?" + +"Very, I think," was the answer. "Of course he may get better; but it +does not look like it." + +He was a tall, thin, handsome man, this young officer--a year or two +older than Maude, whom he greatly resembled. Seated before a table, he +was playing at that delectable game "solitaire;" and his eyes looked +large and wild with surprise, and his cheeks became hectic, when Lord +Hartledon entered. + +"Bob, my dear fellow, I am glad to see you." + +He took his hands and sat down, his face full of the concern he did not +care to speak. Lady Hartledon had said he was going into a way; it was +evidently the way of the grave. + +He pushed the balls and the board from him, half ashamed of his +employment. "To think you should catch me at this!" he exclaimed. "Maude +brought it to me yesterday, thinking I was dull up here." + +"As good that as anything else. I often think what a miserably restless +invalid _I_ should make. But now, what's wrong with you?" + +"Well, I suppose it's the heart." + +"The heart?" + +"The doctors say so. No doubt they are right; those complaints are +hereditary, and my father had it. I got quite unfit for duty, and they +told me I must go away for change; so I wrote to Maude, and she took me +in." + +"Yes, yes; we are glad to have you, and must try and get you well, Bob." + +"Ah, I can't tell about that. He died of it, you know." + +"Who?" + +"My father. He was ill for some time, and it wore him to a skeleton, so +that people thought he was in a decline. If I could only get sufficiently +well to go back to duty, I should not mind; it is so sad to give trouble +in a strange house." + +"In a strange house it might be, but it would be ungrateful to call this +one strange," returned Lord Hartledon, smiling on him from his pleasant +blue eyes. "We must get you to town and have good advice for you. I +suppose Hillary comes up?" + +"Every-day." + +"Does _he_ say it's heart-disease?" + +"I believe he thinks it. It might be as much as his reputation is worth +to say it in this house." + +"How do you mean?" + +"My mother won't have it said. She ignores the disease altogether, and +will not allow it to be mentioned, or hinted at. It's bronchitis, she +tells everyone; and of course bronchitis it must be. I did have a cough +when I came here: my chest is not strong." + +"But why should she ignore heart-disease?" + +"There was a fear that Maude would be subject to it when she was a child. +Should it be disclosed to her that it is my complaint, and were I to die +of it, she might grow so alarmed for herself as to bring it on; and +agitation, as we know, is often fatal in such cases." + +Lord Hartledon sat in a sort of horror. Maude subject to heart-disease! +when at any moment a certain fearful tale, of which he was the guilty +centre, might be disclosed to her! Day by day, hour by hour, he lived in +dread of this story's being brought to light. This little unexpected +communication increased that dread fourfold. + +"Have I shocked you?" asked Captain Kirton. "I may yet get the better of +it." + +"I believe I was thinking of Maude," answered Hartledon, slowly +recovering from his stupor. "I never heard--I had no idea that Maude's +heart was not perfectly sound." + +"And I don't know but that it is sound; it was only a fancy when she was +a child, and there might have been no real grounds for it. My mother is +full of crotchets on the subject of illness; and says she won't have +anything about heart-disease put into Maude's head. She is right, of +course, so far, in using precaution; so please remember that I am +suffering from any disorder but that," concluded the young officer with +a smile. + +"How did yours first show itself?" + +"I hardly know. I used to be subject to sudden attacks of faintness; but +I am not sure that they had anything to do with the disease itself." + +Just what Maude was becoming subject to! She had told him of a +fainting-fit in London; had told him of another now. + +"I suppose the doctors warn you against sudden shocks, Bob?" + +"More than against anything. I am not to agitate myself in the least; am +not to run or jump, or fly into a temper. They would put me in a glass +case, if they could." + +"Well, we'll see what skill can do for you," said Hartledon, rousing +himself. "I wonder if a warmer climate would be of service? You might +have that without exertion, travelling slowly." + +"Couldn't afford it," was the ingenuous answer. "I have forestalled my +pay as it is." + +Lord Hartledon smiled. Never a more generous disposition than his; and if +money could save this poor Bob Kirton, he should not want it. + +Walking forth, he strolled down the road towards Calne, intending to ask +a question or two of the surgeon. Mr. Hillary was at home. His house was +at this end of Calne, just past the Rectory and opposite the church, with +a side view of Clerk Gum's. The door was open, and Lord Hartledon +strolled into the surgery unannounced, to the surprise of Mr. Hillary, +who did not know he was at Calne. + +The surgeon's opinion was not favourable. Captain Kirton had +heart-disease beyond any doubt. His chest was weak also, the lungs not +over-sound; altogether, the Honourable Robert Kirton's might be called +a bad life. + +"Would a warmer climate do anything for him?" asked Lord Hartledon. + +The surgeon shrugged his shoulders. "He would be better there for some +things than here. On the whole it might temporarily benefit him." + +"Then he shall go. And now, Hillary, I want to ask you something +else--and you must answer me, mind. Captain Kirton tells me the fact of +his having heart-disease is not mentioned in the house lest it should +alarm Lady Hartledon, and develop the same in her. Is there any fear of +this?" + +"It is true that it's not spoken of; but I don't think there's any +foundation for the fear." + +"The old dowager's very fanciful!" cried Lord Hartledon, resentfully. + +"A queer old--girl," remarked the surgeon. "Can't help saying it, though +she is your mother-in-law." + +"I wish she was any one else's! She's as likely as not to let out +something of this to Maude in her tantrums. But I don't believe a word +of it; I never saw the least symptom of heart-disease in my wife." + +"Nor I," said the doctor. "Of course I have not examined her; neither +have I had much opportunity for ordinary observation." + +"I wish you would contrive to get the latter. Come up and call often; +make some excuse for seeing Lady Hartledon professionally, and watch her +symptoms." + +"I am seeing her professionally now; once or twice a week. She had one or +two fainting-fits after she came down, and called me in." + +"Kirton says he used to have those fainting-fits. Are they a symptom of +heart-disease?" + +"In Lady Hartledon I attribute them entirely to her present state of +health. I assure you, I don't see the slightest cause for fear as regards +your wife's heart. She is of a calm temperament too; as far as I can +observe." + +They stood talking for a minute at the door, when Lord Hartledon went +out. Pike happened to pass on the other side of the road. + +"He is here still, I see," remarked Hartledon. + +"Oh dear, yes; and likely to be." + +"I wonder how the fellow picks up a living?" + +The surgeon did not answer. "Are you going to make a long stay with us?" +he asked. + +"A very short one. I suppose you have had no return of the fever?" + +"Not any. Calne never was more healthy than it is now. As I said to Dr. +Ashton yesterday, but for his own house I might put up my shutters and +take a lengthened holiday." + +"Who is ill at the Rectory? Mrs. Ashton?" + +"Mrs. Ashton is not strong, but she's better than she was last year. +I have been more concerned for Anne than for her." + +"Is _she_ ill?" cried Lord Hartledon, a spasm seizing his throat. + +"Ailing. But it's an ailing I do not like." + +"What's the cause?" he rejoined, feeling as if some other crime were +about to be brought home to him. + +"That's a question I never inquire into. I put it upon the air of the +Rectory," added the surgeon in jesting tones, "and tell them they ought +to go away for a time, but they have been away too much of late, they +say. She's getting over it somewhat, and I take care that she goes out +and takes exercise. What has it been? Well, a sort of inward fever, with +flushed cheeks and unequal spirits. It takes time for these things to +be got over, you know. The Rector has been anything but well, too; he +is not the strong, healthy man he was." + +"And all _my_ work; my work!" cried Hartledon to himself, almost gnashing +his teeth as he went back down the street. "What _right_ had I to upset +the happiness of that family? I wish it had pleased God to take me first! +My father used to say that some men seem born into the world only to be a +blight to it; it's what I have been, Heaven knows." + +He knew only too well that Anne Ashton was suffering from the shock +caused by his conduct. The love of these quiet, sensitive, refined +natures, once awakened, is not given for a day, but for all time; it +becomes a part of existence; and cannot be riven except by an effort that +brings destruction to even future hope of happiness. Not even Mr. +Hillary, not even Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, could discern the utter misery +that was Anne's daily portion. She strove to conceal it all. She went +about the house cheerfully, wore a smiling face when people were present, +dressed well, laughed with their guests, went about the parish to rich +and poor, and was altogether gay. Ah, do you know what it is, this +assumption of gaiety when the heart is breaking?--this dread fear lest +those about you should detect the truth? Have _you_ ever lived with this +mask upon your face?--which can only be thrown off at night in the +privacy of your own chamber, when you may abandon yourself to your +desolation, and pray heaven to take you or give you increased strength to +_live_ and _bear_? It may seem a light thing, this state of heart that I +am telling you about; but it has killed both men and women, for all that; +and killed them in silence. + +Anne Ashton had never complained. She did everything she had been used to +doing, was particular about all her duties; but a nervous cough attacked +her, and her frame wasted, and her cheek grew hectic. Try as she would +she could not eat: all she confessed to, when questioned by Mrs. Ashton, +was "a pain in her throat;" and Mr. Hillary was called in. Anne laughed: +there was nothing the matter with her, she said, and her throat was +better; she had strained it perhaps. The doctor was a wise doctor; his +professional visits were spent in gossip; and as to medicine, he sent her +a tonic, and told her to take it or not as she pleased. Only time, he +said to Mrs. Ashton--she would be all right in time; the summer heat was +making her languid. + +The summer heat had nearly passed now, and perhaps some of the battle was +passing with it. None knew--let me repeat it--what that battle had been; +none ever can know, unless they go through it themselves. In Miss +Ashton's case there was a feature some are spared--her love had been +known--and it increased the anguish tenfold. She would overcome it if she +could only forget him; but it would take time; and she would come out of +it an altogether different woman, her best hope in life gone, her heart +dead. + +"What brought him down here?" mentally questioned Mr. Hillary, in an +explosion of wrath, as he watched his visitor down the street. "It will +undo all I have been doing. He, and his wife too, might have had the +grace to keep away for this year at least. I loved him once, with all his +faults; but I should like to see him in the pillory now. It has told on +him also, if I'm any reader of looks. And now, Miss Anne, you go off from +Calne to-morrow an I can prevail. I only hope you won't come across him +in the meantime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +UNDER THE TREES. + + +It was the same noble-looking man Calne had 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 crouched down when Lord +Hartledon passed. He went back at once; and Pike put a bold face on the +matter, and stood up. + +"So you occupy your palace still, Pike?" + +"Such as it is. Yes." + +"I half-expected to find that Mr. Marris had turned you from it," +continued Lord Hartledon, alluding to his steward. + +"He wouldn't do it, I expect, without your lordship's orders; and I don't +fancy you'll give 'em," was the free answer. + +"I think my brother would have given them, had he lived." + +"But he didn't live," rejoined Pike. "He wasn't let live." + +"What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, mystified by the words. + +Pike ignored the question. "'Twas nearly a smash," he said, looking at +the two carts now proceeding on their different ways. "That cart of +Floyd's is always in hot water; the man drinks; Floyd turned him off +once." + +The miller's cart was jogging up the road towards home, under convoy of +the offending driver; the boy, David Ripper, sitting inside on some empty +sacks, and looking over the board behind: looking very hard indeed, as it +seemed, in their direction. Mr. Pike appropriated the gaze. + +"Yes, you may stare, young Rip!" he apostrophized, as if the boy could +hear him; "but you won't stare yourself out of my hands. You're the +biggest liar in Calne, but you don't mislead me." + +"Pike, when you made acquaintance with that man Gorton--you remember +him?" broke off Lord Hartledon. + +"Yes, I do," said Pike emphatically. + +"Did he make you acquainted with any of his private affairs?--his past +history?" + +"Not a word," answered Pike, looking still after the cart and the boy. + +"Were those fine whiskers of his false? that red hair?" + +Pike turned his head quickly. The question had aroused him. + +"False hair and whiskers! I never knew it was the fashion to wear them." + +"It may be convenient sometimes, even if not the fashion," observed Lord +Hartledon, his tone full of cynical meaning; and Mr. Pike surreptitiously +peered at him with his small light eyes. + +"If Gorton's hair was false, I never noticed it, that's all; I never saw +him without a hat, that I remember, except in that inquest-room." + +"Had he been to Australia?" + +Pike paused to take another surreptitious gaze. + +"Can't say, my lord. Never heard." + +"Was his name Gorton, or Gordon? Come, Pike," continued Lord Hartledon, +good-humouredly, "there's a sort of mutual alliance between you and me; +you did me a service once unasked, and I allow you to live free and +undisturbed on my ground. I think you _do_ know something of this man; +it is a fancy I have taken up." + +"I never knew his name was anything but Gorton," said Pike carelessly; +"never heard it nor thought it." + +"Did you happen to hear him ever speak of that mutiny on board the +Australian ship _Morning Star_? You have heard of it, I daresay: a George +Gordon was the ringleader." + +If ever the cool impudence was suddenly taken out of a man, this question +seemed to take it out of Pike. He did not reply for some time; and when +he did, it was in low and humble tones. + +"My lord, I hope you'll pardon my rough thoughts and ways, which haven't +been used to such as you--and the sight of that boy put me up, for +reasons of my own. As to Gorton--I never did hear him speak of the thing +you mention. His name's Gorton, and nothing else, as far as I know; and +his hair's his own, for all I ever saw." + +"He did not give you his confidence, then?" + +"No, never. Not about himself nor anything else, past or present." + +"And did not let a word slip? As to--for instance, as to his having been +a passenger on board the _Morning Star_ at the time of the mutiny?" + +Pike had moved away a step, and stood with his arms on the hurdles, his +head bent on them, his face turned from Lord Hartledon. + +"Gorton said nothing to me. As to that mutiny--I think I read something +about it in the newspapers, but I forget what. I was just getting up from +some weeks of rheumatic fever at the time; I'd caught it working in the +fields; and news don't leave much impression in illness. Gorton never +spoke of it to me. I never heard him say who or what he was; and I +couldn't speak more truly if your lordship offered to give me the shed +as a bribe." + +"Do you know where Gorton might be found at present?" + +"I swear before Heaven that I know nothing of the man, and have never +heard of him since he went away," cried Pike, with a burst of either fear +or passion. "He was a stranger to me when he came, and he was a stranger +when he left. I found out the little game he had come about, and saved +your lordship from his clutches, which he doesn't know to this day. I +know nothing else about him at all." + +"Well, good evening, Pike. You need not put yourself out for nothing." + +He walked away, taking leave of the man as civilly as though he had been +a respectable member of society. It was not in Val's nature to show +discourtesy to any living being. Why Pike should have shrunk from the +questions he could not tell; but that he did shrink was evident; perhaps +from a surly dislike to being questioned at all; but on the whole Lord +Hartledon thought he had spoken the truth as to knowing nothing about +Gorton. + +Crossing the road, he turned into the field-path near the Rectory; it was +a little nearer than the road-way, and he was in a hurry, for he had not +thought to ask at what hour his wife dined, and might be keeping her +waiting. + +Who was this Pike, he wondered as he went along; as he had wondered +before now. When the man was off his guard, the roughness of his speech +and demeanour was not so conspicuous; and the tone assumed a certain +refinement that seemed to say he had some time been in civilized society. +Again, how did he live? A tale was told in Calne of Pike's having been +disturbed at supper one night by a parcel of rude boys, who had seen him +seated at a luxurious table; hot steak and pudding before him. They were +not believed, certainly; but still Pike must live; and how did he find +the means to do so? Why did he live there at all? what had caused him to +come to Calne? Who-- + +These reflections might have lasted all the way home but for an +interruption that drove every thought out of Lord Hartledon's mind, and +sent the heart's blood coursing swiftly through his veins. Turning a +corner of the dark winding path, he came suddenly upon a lady seated on a +bench, so close to the narrow path that he almost touched her in passing. +She seemed to have sat down for a moment to do something to her hat, +which was lying in her lap, her hands busied with it. + +A faint cry escaped her, and she rose up. It was caused partly by +emotion, partly by surprise at seeing him, for she did not know he was +within a hundred miles of the place. And very probably she would have +liked to box her own ears for showing any. The hat fell from her knees +as she rose, and both stooped for it. + +"Forgive me," he said. "I fear I have startled you." + +"I am waiting for papa," she answered, in hasty apology for being found +there. And Lord Hartledon, casting his eyes some considerable distance +ahead, discerned the indistinct forms of two persons talking together. He +understood the situation at once. Dr. Ashton and his daughter had been to +the cottages; and the doctor had halted on their return to speak to a +day-labourer going home from his work, Anne walking slowly on. + +And there they stood face to face, Anne Ashton and her deceitful lover! +How their hearts beat to pain, how utterly oblivious they were of +everything in life save each other's presence, how tumultuously confused +were mind and manner, both might remember afterwards, but certainly were +not conscious of then. It was a little glimpse of Eden. A corner of the +dark curtain thrown between them had been raised, and so unexpectedly +that for the moment nothing else was discernible in the dazzling light. + +Forget! Not in that instant of sweet confusion, during which nothing +seemed more real than a dream. He was the husband of another; she was +parted from him for ever; and neither was capable of deliberate thought +or act that could intrench on the position, or tend to return, even +momentarily, to the past. And yet there they stood with beating hearts, +and eyes that betrayed their own tale--that the marriage and the parting +were in one sense but a hollow mockery, and their love was indelible as +of old. + +Each had been "forgetting" to the utmost of the poor power within, in +accordance with the high principles enshrined in either heart. Yet what +a mockery that forgetting seemed, now that it was laid before them naked +and bare! The heart turning sick to faintness at the mere sight of each +other, the hands trembling at the mutual touch, the wistful eyes shining +with a glance that too surely spoke of undying love! + +But not a word of this was spoken. However true their hearts might be, +there was no fear of the tongue following up the error. Lord Hartledon +would no more have allowed himself to speak than she to listen. Neither +had the hands met in ordinary salutation; it was only when he resigned +the hat to her that the fingers touched: a touch light, transient, almost +imperceptible; nevertheless it sent a thrill through the whole frame. Not +exactly knowing what to do in her confusion, Miss Ashton sat down on the +bench again and put her hat on. + +"I must say a word to you before I go on my way," said Lord Hartledon. +"I have been wishing for such a meeting as this ever since I saw you at +Versailles; and indeed I think I wished for nothing else before it. When +you think of me as one utterly heartless--" + +"Stay, Lord Hartledon," she interrupted, with white lips. "I cannot +listen to you. You must be aware that I cannot, and ought not. What are +you thinking about?" + +"I know that I have forfeited all right to ask you; that it is an +unpardonable intrusion my presuming even to address you. Well, perhaps, +you are right," he added, after a moment's pause; "it may be better that +I should not say what I was hoping to say. It cannot mend existing +things; it cannot undo the past. I dare not ask your forgiveness: it +would seem too much like an insult; nevertheless, I would rather have it +than any earthly gift. Fare you well, Anne! I shall sometimes hear of +your happiness." + +"Have you been ill?" she asked in a kindly impulse, noticing his altered +looks in that first calm moment. + +"No--not as the world counts illness. If remorse and shame and repentance +can be called illness, I have my share. Ill deeds of more kinds than one +are coming home to me. Anne," he added in a hoarse whisper; his face +telling of emotion, "if there is one illumined corner in my heart, where +all else is very dark, it is caused by thankfulness to Heaven that you +were spared." + +"Spared!" she echoed, in wonder, so completely awed by his strange manner +as to forget her reserve. + +"Spared the linking of your name with mine. I thank God for it, for your +sake, night and day. Had trouble fallen on you through me, I don't think +I could have survived it. May you be shielded from all such for ever!" + +He turned abruptly away, and she looked after him, her heart beating a +great deal faster than it ought to have done. + +That she was his best and dearest love, in spite of his marriage, it +was impossible not to see; and she strove to think him very wicked for +it, and her cheek was red with a feeling that seemed akin to shame. +But--trouble?--thankful for her sake, night and day, that her name was +not linked with his? He must allude to debt, she supposed: some of those +old embarrassments had augmented themselves into burdens too heavy to be +safely borne. + +The Rector was coming on now at a swift pace. He looked keenly at Lord +Hartledon; looked twice, as if in surprise. A flush rose to Val's +sensitive face as he passed, and lifted his hat. The Rector, dark and +proud, condescended to return the courtesy: and the meeting was over. + +Toiling across Lord Hartledon's path was the labourer to whom the Rector +had been speaking. He had an empty bottle slung over his shoulder, and +carried a sickle. The man's day's work was over, and had left fatigue +behind it. + +"Good-night to your lordship!" + +"Is it you, Ripper?" + +He was the father of the young gentleman in the cart, whom Mr. Pike had +not long before treated to his opinion: young David Ripper, the miller's +boy. Old Ripper, a talkative, discontented man, stopped and ventured to +enter on his grievances. His wife had been pledging things to pay for +a fine gown she had bought; his two girls were down with measles; his +son, young Rip, plagued his life out. + +"How does he plague your life out?" asked Lord Hartledon, when he had +listened patiently. + +"Saying he'll go off and enlist for a soldier, my lord; he's saying it +always: and means it too, only he's over-young for't." + +"Over-young for it; I should think so. Why, he's not much more than a +child. Our sergeants don't enlist little boys." + +"Sometimes he says he'll drown himself by way of a change," returned old +Ripper. + +"Oh, does he? Folk who say it never do it. I should whip it out of him." + +"He's never been the same since the lord's death that time. He's always +frightened: gets fancying things, and saying sometimes he sees his +shadder." + +"Whose shadow?" + +"His'n: the late lord's." + +"Why does he fancy that?" came the question, after a perceptible pause. + +Old Ripper shook his head. It was beyond his ken, he said. "There be only +two things he's afeared of in life," continued the man, who, though +generally called old Ripper, was not above five-and-thirty. "The one's +that wild man Pike; t'other's the shadder. He'd run ten mile sooner than +see either." + +"Does Pike annoy the boy?" + +"Never spoke to him, as I knows on, my lord. Afore that drowning of his +lordship last year, Davy was the boldest rip going," added the man, who +had long since fallen into the epithet popularly applied to his son. +"Since then he don't dare say his soul's his own. We had him laid up +before the winter, and I know 'twas nothing but fear." + +Lord Hartledon could not make much of the story, and had no time to +linger. Administering a word of general encouragement, he continued his +way, his thoughts going back to the interview with Anne Ashton, a line or +two of Longfellow's "Fire of Driftwood" rising up in his mind-- + + "Of what had been and might have been, + And who was changed, and who was dead." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +A TETE-A-TETE BREAKFAST. + + +The Dowager-Countess of Kirton stood in the sunny breakfast-room at +Hartledon, surveying the well-spread table with complacency; for it +appeared to be rather more elaborately set out than usual, and no one +loved good cheer better than she. When she saw two cups and saucers on +the cloth instead of one, it occurred to her that Maude must, by caprice, +be coming down, which she had not done of late. The dowager had arrived +at midnight from Garchester, in consequence of having missed the earlier +train, and found nearly all the house in retirement. She was in a furious +humour, and no one had told her of the arrival of her son-in-law; no one +ever did tell her any more than they were obliged to do; for she was not +held in estimation at Hartledon. + +"Potted tongue," she exclaimed, dodging round the table, and lifting +various covers. "Raised pie; I wonder what's in it? And what's that stuff +in jelly? It looks delicious. This is the result of the blowing-up I gave +Hedges the other day; nothing like finding fault. Hot dishes too. I +suppose Maude gave out that she should be down this morning. All rubbish, +fancying herself ill: she's as well as I am, but gives way like a +sim--A-a-a-ah!" + +The exclamation was caused by the unexpected vision of Lord Hartledon. + +"How are you, Lady Kirton?" + +"Where on earth did you spring from?" + +"From my room." + +"What's the good of your appearing before people like a ghost, Hartledon? +When did you arrive?" + +"Yesterday afternoon." + +"And time you did, I think, with your poor wife fretting herself to death +about you. How is she this morning?" + +"Very well." + +"Ugh!" You must imagine this sound as something between a grunt and a +groan, that the estimable lady gave vent to whenever put out. It is not +capable of being written. "You might have sent word you were coming. I +should think you frightened your wife to death." + +"Not quite." + +He walked across the room and rang the bell. Hedges appeared. It had +been the dowager's pleasure that no one else should serve her at that +meal--perhaps on account of her peculiarities of costume. + +"Will you be good enough to pour out the coffee in Maude's place to-day, +Lady Kirton? She has promised to be down another morning." + +It was making her so entirely and intentionally a guest, as she thought, +that Lady Kirton did not like it. Not only did she fully intend Hartledon +House to be her home, but she meant to be its one ruling power. Keep +Maude just now to her invalid fancies, and later to her gay life, and +there would be little fear of her asserting very much authority. + +"Are you in the habit of serving this sort of breakfast, Hedges?" asked +Lord Hartledon; for the board looked almost like an elaborate dinner. + +"We have made some difference, my lord, this morning." + +"For me, I suppose. You need not do so in future. I have got out of the +habit of taking breakfast; and in any case I don't want this unnecessary +display. Captain Kirton gets up later, I presume." + +"He's hardly ever up before eleven," said Hedges. "But he makes a good +breakfast, my lord." + +"That's right. Tempt him with any delicacy you can devise. He wants +strength." + +The dowager was fuming. "Don't you think I'm capable of regulating these +things, Hartledon, I'd beg leave to ask?" + +"No doubt. I beg you will make yourself at home whilst you stay with us. +Some tea, Hedges." + +She could have thrown the coffee-pot at him. There was incipient defiance +in his every movement; latent war in his tones. He was no longer the +puppet he had been; that day had gone by for ever. + +Perhaps Val could not himself have explained the feeling that was this +morning at work within him. It was the first time he and the dowager had +met since the marriage, and she brought before him all too prominently +the ill-omened past: her unjustifiable scheming--his own miserable +weakness. If ever Lord Hartledon felt shame and repentance for his weak +yielding, he felt it now--felt it in all its bitterness; and something +very like rage against the dowager was bubbling up in his spirit, which +he had some trouble to suppress. + +He did suppress it, however, though it rendered him less courteous than +usual; and the meal proceeded partly in silence; an interchanged word, +civil on the surface, passing now and then. The dowager thoroughly +entered into her breakfast, and had little leisure for anything else. + +"What makes you take nothing?" she asked, perceiving at length that he +had only a piece of toast on his plate, and was playing with that. + +"I have no appetite." + +"Have you left off taking breakfast?" + +"To a great extent." + +"What's the matter with you?" + +Lord Hartledon slightly raised his eyebrows. "One can't eat much in the +heat of summer." + +"Heat of summer! it's nothing more than autumn now. And you are as thin +as a weasel. Try some of that excellent raised pie." + +"Pray let my appetite alone, Lady Kirton. If I wanted anything I should +take it." + +"Let you alone! yes, of course! You don't want it noticed that you are +out of sorts," snapped the dowager. "Oh, _I_ know the signs. You've been +raking about London--that's what you've been at." + +The "raking about London" presented so complete a contrast to the lonely +life he had really passed, that Hartledon smiled in very bitterness. And +the smile incensed the dowager, for she misunderstood it. + +"It's early days to begin! I don't think you ought to have married +Maude." + +"I don't think I ought." + +She did not expect the rejoinder, and dropped her knife and fork. "Why +_did_ you marry her?" + +"Perhaps you can tell that better than I." + +The countess-dowager pushed up her hair. + +"Are you going to throw off the mask outright, and become a bad husband +as well as a neglectful one?" + +Val rose from his seat and went to the window, which opened to the +ground. He did not wish to quarrel with her if he could help it. Lady +Kirton raised her voice. + +"Staying away, as you have, in London, and leaving Maude here to pine +alone." + +"Business kept me in London." + +"I dare say it did!" cried the wrathful dowager. "If Maude died of ennui, +you wouldn't care. She can't go about much herself just now, poor thing! +I do wish Edward had lived." + +"I wish he had, with all my heart!" came the answer; and the tone struck +surprise on the dowager's ear--it was so full of pain. "Maude's coming to +Hartledon without me was her own doing," he remarked. "I wished her not +to come." + +"I dare say you did, as her heart was set upon it. The fact of her +wishing to do a thing would be the signal for your opposing it; I've +gathered that much. My advice to Maude is, to assert her own will, +irrespective of yours." + +"Don't you think, Lady Kirton, that it may be as well if you let me and +my wife alone? We shall get along, no doubt, without interference; _with_ +interference we might not do so." + +What with one thing and another, the dowager's temper was inflammable +that morning; and when it reached that undesirable state she was apt to +say pretty free things, even for her. + +"Edward would have made her the better husband." + +"But she didn't like him, you know!" he returned, his eyes flashing with +the remembrance of an old thought; and the countess-dowager took the +sentence literally, and not ironically. + +"Not like him. If you had had any eyes as Val Elster, you'd have seen +whether she liked him or not. She was dying for him--not for you." + +He made no reply. It was only what he had suspected, in a half-doubting +sort of way, at the time. A little spaniel, belonging to one of the +gardeners, ran up and licked his hand. + +"The time that I had of it!" continued the dowager. "But for me, Maude +never would have been forced into having you. And she _shouldn't_ have +had you if I'd thought you were going to turn out like this." + +He wheeled round and faced her; his pale face working with emotion, but +his voice subdued to calmness. Lady Kirton's last words halted, for his +look startled even her in its resolute sternness. + +"To what end are you saying this, madam? You know perfectly well that +you almost moved heaven and earth to get me: _you_, I say; I prefer to +leave my wife's name out of this: and I fell into the snare. I have not +complained of my bargain; so far as I know, Maude has not done so: but +if it be otherwise--if she and you repent of the union, I am willing to +dissolve it, as far as it can be dissolved, and to institute measures for +living apart." + +Never, never had she suspected it would come to this. She sat staring at +him, her eyes round, her mouth open: scarcely believing the calm resolute +man before her could be the once vacillating Val Elster. + +"Listen whilst I speak a word of truth," he said, his eyes bent on her +with a strange fire that, if it told of undisguised earnestness, told +also of inward fever. "I married your daughter, and I am ready and +willing to do my duty by her in all honour, as I have done it since the +day of the marriage. Whatever my follies may have been as a young man, I +am at least incapable of wronging my wife as a married one. _She_ has +had no cause to complain of want of affection, but--" + +"Oh, what a hypocrite!" interrupted the dowager, with a shriek. "And all +the time you've left her here neglected, while you were taking your +amusement in London! You've been dinner-giving and Richmond-going, and +theatre-frequenting, and card-playing, and race-horsing--and I shouldn't +wonder but you've been cock-fighting, and a hundred other things as +disreputable, and have come down here worn to a skeleton!" + +"But if she is discontented, if she does not care for me, as you would +seem to intimate," he resumed, passing over the attack without notice; +"in short, if Maude would be happier without me, I am quite willing, +as I have just said, to relieve her of her distasteful husband." + +"Of all the wicked plotters, you must be the worst! My darling +unoffending Maude! A divorce for her!" + +"We are neither of us eligible for a divorce," he coolly rejoined. "A +separation alone is open to us, and that an amicable one. Should it come +to it, every possible provision can be made for your daughter's comfort; +she shall retain this home; she shall have, if she wishes, a town-house; +I will deny her nothing." + +Lady Kirton rubbed her face carefully with her handkerchief. Not until +this moment had she believed him to be in earnest, and the conviction +frightened her. + +"Why do you wish to separate from her?" she asked, in a subdued tone. + +"I do not wish it. I said I was willing to do so if she wished it. You +have been taking pains to convince me that Maude's love was not mine, +that she was only forced into the marriage with me. Should this have been +the case, I must be distasteful to her still; an encumbrance she may wish +to get rid of." + +The countess-dowager had overshot her mark, and saw it. + +"Oh well! Perhaps I was mistaken about the past," she said, staring at +him very hard, and in a sort of defiance. "Maude was always very close. +If you said anything about separation now, I dare say it would kill her. +My belief is, she does care for you, and a great deal more than you +deserve." + +"It may be better to ascertain the truth from Maude--" + +"You won't say a syllable to her!" cried the dowager, starting up +in terror. "She'd never forgive me; she'd turn me out of the house. +Hartledon, _promise_ you won't say a word to her." + +He stood back against the window, never speaking. + +"She does love you; but I thought I'd frighten you, for you had no right +to send Maude home alone; and it made me very cross, because I saw how +she felt it. Separation indeed! What can you be thinking of?" + +He was thinking of a great deal, no doubt; and his thoughts were as +bitter as they could well be. He did not wish to separate; come what +might, he felt his place should be by his wife's side as long as +circumstances permitted it. + +"Let me give you a word of warning, Lady Kirton. I and my wife will be +happy enough together, I daresay, if we are allowed to be; but the style +of conversation you have just adopted to me will not conduce to it; it +might retaliate on Maude, you see. Do 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 XXVIII. + +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 mutiny: "a young, +slight man, with light eyes and fair hair." This did not answer exactly +to the Gorton who had played his part at Calne; but then, in regard to +the latter, there remained the suspicion that the red hair was false. +Whether it was the same man or whether it was two men--if the phrase may +be allowed--neither of them, to use Detective Green's expressive words, +turned up. And thus the months had passed on, with nothing special to +mark them. Captain Kirton had been conveyed abroad for the winter, and +they had good news of him; and the countess-dowager was inflicting a +visit upon one of her married daughters in Germany, the baroness with the +unpronounceable name. + +And the matter had nearly faded from the mind of Lady Hartledon. It would +quite have faded, but for certain interviews with Thomas Carr at his +chambers, when Hartledon's look of care precluded the idea that they +could be visits of mere idleness or pleasure; and for the secret trouble +that unmistakably sat on her husband like an incubus. At times he would +moan in his sleep as one in pain; but if told of this, had always some +laughing answer ready for her--he had dreamed he was fighting a lion or +being tossed by a bull. + +This was the pleasantest phase of Lady Hartledon's married life. Her +health did not allow of her entering into gaiety; and she and her husband +passed their time happily together. All her worst qualities seemed to +have left her, or to be dormant; she was yielding and gentle; her beauty +had never been so great as now that it was subdued; her languor was an +attraction, her care to please being genuine; and they were sufficiently +happy. They were in their town-house now, not having gone back to +Hartledon. A large, handsome house, very different from the hired one +they had first occupied. + +In January the baby was born; and Maude's eyes glistened with tears +of delight because it was a boy: a little heir to the broad lands of +Hartledon. She was very well, and it seemed that she could never tire +of fondling her child. + +But in the first few days succeeding that of the birth a strange fancy +took possession of her: she observed, or thought she observed, that her +husband did not seem to care for the child. He did not caress it; she +once heard him sighing over it; and he never announced it in the +newspapers. Other infants, heirs especially, could be made known to the +world, but not hers. The omission might never have come to her knowledge, +since at first she was not allowed to see newspapers, but for a letter +from the countess-dowager. The lady wrote in a high state of wrath from +Germany; she had looked every day for ten days in the _Times_, and saw no +chronicle of the happy event; and she demanded the reason. It afforded a +valve for her temper, which had been in an explosive state for some time +against Lord Hartledon, that ungracious son-in-law having actually +forbidden her his house until Maude's illness should be over; telling her +plainly that he would not have his wife worried. Lady Hartledon said +nothing for a day or two; she was watching her husband; watching for +signs of the fancy which had taken possession of her. + +He was in her room one dark afternoon, standing with his elbow on the +mantelpiece whilst he talked to her: a room of luxury and comfort it must +have been almost a pleasure to be ill in. Lady Hartledon had been allowed +to get up, and sit in an easy-chair: she seemed to be growing strong +rapidly; and the little red gentleman in the cradle, sleeping quietly, +was fifteen days old. + +"About his name, Percival; what is it to be?" she asked. "Your own?" + +"No, no, not mine," said he, quickly; "I never liked mine. Choose some +other, Maude." + +"What do you wish it to be?" + +"Anything." + +The short answer did not please the young mother; neither did the dreamy +tone in which it was spoken. "Don't you care what it is?" she asked +rather plaintively. + +"Not much, for myself. I wish it to be anything you shall choose." + +"I thought perhaps you would have liked it named after your brother," she +said, very much offended on the baby's account. + +"George?" + +"George, no. I never knew George; I should not be likely to think of him. +Edward." + +Lord Hartledon looked at the fire, absently pushing back his hair. "Yes, +let it be Edward. It will do as well as anything else." + +"Good gracious, Percival, one would think you had been having babies all +your life!" she exclaimed resentfully. "'Do as well as anything else!' If +he were our tenth son, instead of our first, you could not treat it with +more indifference. I have done nothing but deliberate on the name since +he was born; and I don't believe you have once given it a thought." + +Lord Hartledon turned his face upon her; and when illumined with a smile, +as now, it could be as bright as before care came to it. "I don't think +we men attach the importance to names in a general way that you do, +Maude. I shall like to have it Edward." + +"Edward William Algernon--" + +"No, no, no," as if the number alarmed him. "Pray don't have a string of +names: one's quite enough." + +"Oh, very well," she returned, biting her lips. "William was your +father's name. Algernon is my eldest brother's: I supposed you might like +them. I thought," she added, after a pause, "we might ask Lord Kirton to +be its godfather." + +"I have decided on the godfathers already. Thomas Carr will be one, and +I intend to be the other." + +"Thomas Carr! A poor hard-working barrister, that not a soul knows, and +of no family or influence whatever, godfather to the future Lord +Hartledon!" uttered the offended mother. + +"I wish it, Maude. Carr is the most valued friend I have in the world, or +ever can have. Oblige me in this." + +"Then my brother can be the other." + +"No; I myself; and I wish you would be its godmother." + +"Well, it's quite reversing the order of things!" she said, tacitly +conceding the point. + +A silence ensued. The firelight played on the lace curtains of the baby's +bed, as it did on Lady Hartledon's face; a thoughtful face just now. +Twilight was drawing on, and the fire lighted the room. + +"Percival, do you care for the child?" + +The tone had a sound of passion in it, breaking upon the silence. Lord +Hartledon lifted his bent face and glanced at his wife. + +"Do I care for the child, Maude? What a question! I do care for him: more +than I allow to appear." + +And if her voice had passion in it, his had pain. He crossed the room, +and stood looking down on the sleeping baby, touching at length its cheek +with his finger. He could have knelt, there and then, and wept over the +child, and prayed, oh, how earnestly, that God would take it to Himself, +not suffer it to live. Many and many a prayer had ascended from his heart +in their earlier married days, that his wife might not bear him children; +for he could only entail upon them an inheritance of shame. + +"I don't think you have once taken him in your arms, Percival; you never +kiss him. It's quite unnatural." + +"I give my kisses in the dark," he laughed, as he returned to where she +was sitting. And this was in a sense true; for once when he happened to +be alone for an instant with the baby, he had clasped it and kissed it in +a sort of delirious agony. + +"You never had it in the _Times_, you know!" + +"Never what?" + +"Never announced its birth in the _Times_. Did you forget it?" + +"It must have been very stupid of me," he remarked. "Never mind, Maude; +he won't grow the less for the omission. When are you coming downstairs?" + +"Mamma is in a rage about it; she says such neglect ought to be punished; +and she knows you have done it on purpose." + +"She is always in a rage with me, no matter what I do," returned Val, +good-humouredly. "She hoped to be here at this time, and sway us all--you +and me and the baby; and I stopped it. Ho, ho! young sir!" + +The baby had wakened with a cry, and a watchful attendant came gliding +in at the sound. Lord Hartledon left the room and went straight down to +the Temple to Mr. Carr's chambers. He found him in all the bustle of +departure from town. A cab stood at the foot of the stairs, and Mr. +Carr's laundress, a queer old body with an inverted black bonnet, was +handing the cabman a parcel of books. + +"A minute more and you'd have been too late," observed Mr. Carr, as Lord +Hartledon met him on the stairs, a coat on his arm. + +"I thought you did not start till to-morrow." + +"But I found I must go to-day. I can give you three minutes. Is it +anything particular?" + +Lord Hartledon drew him into his room. "I have come to crave a favour, +Carr. It has been on my lips to ask you before, but they would not frame +the words. This child of mine: will you be its godfather with myself?" + +One moment's hesitation, quite perceptible to the sensitive mind of Lord +Hartledon, and then Mr. Carr spoke out bravely and cheerily. + +"Of course I will." + +"I see you hesitate: but I do not like to ask any one else." + +"If I hesitated, it was at the thought of the grave responsibility +attaching to the office. I believe I look upon it in a more serious light +than most people do, and have never accepted the charge yet. I will be +sponsor to this one with all my heart." + +Lord Hartledon clasped his hand in reply, and they began to descend +the stairs. "Poor Maude was dreaming of making a grand thing of the +christening," he said; "she wanted to ask Lord Kirton to come to it. +It will take place in about a fortnight." + +"Very well; I must run up for it, unless you let me stand by proxy. +I wish, Hartledon, you would hear me on another point," added the +barrister, halting on the stairs, and dropping his voice to a whisper. + +"Well?" + +"If you are to go away at all, now's the time. Can't you be seized with +an exploring fit, and sail to Africa, or some other place, where your +travels would occupy years?" + +Lord Hartledon shook his head. "How can I leave Maude to battle alone +with the exposure, should it come?" + +"It is a great deal less likely to come if you are a few thousand miles +away." + +"I question it. Should Gorton turn up he is just the one to frighten a +defenceless woman, and purchase his own silence. No; my place is beside +Maude." + +"As you please. I have spoken for the last time. By the way, any letters +bearing a certain postmark, that come addressed to me during my absence, +Taylor has orders to send to you. Fare you well, Hartledon; I wish I +could help you to peace." + +Hartledon watched the cab rattle away, and then turned homewards. Peace! +There was no peace for him. + +Lady Hartledon was not to be thwarted on all points, and she insisted +on a ceremonious christening. The countess-dowager would come over for +it, and did so; Lord Hartledon could not be discourteous enough to deny +this; Lord and Lady Kirton came from Ireland; and for the first time +since their marriage they found themselves entertaining guests. Lord +Hartledon had made a faint opposition, but Maude had her own way. The +countess-dowager was furiously indignant when she heard of the intended +sponsors--its father and mother, and that cynical wretch, Thomas Carr! +Val played the hospitable host; but there was a shadow on his face that +his wife did not fail to see. + +It was the evening before the christening, and a very snowy evening +too. Val was dressing for dinner, and Maude, herself ready, sat by him, +her baby on her knee. The child was attired for the first time in a +splendidly-worked robe with looped-up sleeves; and she had brought it +in to challenge admiration for its pretty arms, with all the pardonable +pride of a young mother. + +"Won't you kiss it for once, Val?" + +He took the child in his arms; it had its mother's fine dark eyes, and +looked straight up from them into his. Lord Hartledon suddenly bent his +own face down upon that little one with what seemed like a gesture of +agony; and when he raised it his own eyes were wet with tears. Maude felt +startled with a sort of terror: love was love; but she did not understand +love so painful as this. + +She sat down with the baby on her knee, saying nothing; he did not intend +her to see the signs of emotion. And this brings us to where we were. +Lord Hartledon went on with his toilette, and presently someone knocked +at the door. + +Two letters: they had come by the afternoon post, very much delayed on +account of the snow. He came back to the gaslight, opening one. A full +letter, written closely; but he had barely glanced at it when he hastily +folded it again, and crammed it into his pocket. If ever a movement +expressed something to be concealed, that did. And Lady Hartledon was +gazing at him with her questioning eyes. + +"Wasn't that letter from Thomas Carr?" + +"Yes." + +"Is he coming up? Or is Kirton to be proxy?" + +"He is--coming, I think," said Val, evidently knowing nothing one way or +the other. "He'll be here, I daresay, to-morrow morning." + +Opening the other letter as he spoke--a foreign-looking letter this +one--he put it up in the same hasty manner, with barely a glance; and +then went on slowly with his dressing. + +"Why don't you read your letters, Percival?" + +"I haven't time. Dinner will be waiting." + +She knew that he had plenty of time, and that dinner would not be +waiting; she knew quite certainly that there was something in both +letters she must not see. Rising from her seat in silence, she went out +of the room with her baby; resentment and an unhealthy curiosity doing +battle in her heart. + +Lord Hartledon slipped the bolt of the door and read the letters at once; +the foreign one first, over which he seemed to take an instant's counsel +with himself. Before going down he locked them up in a small ebony +cabinet which stood against the wall. The room was his own exclusively; +his wife had nothing to do with it. + +Had they been alone he might have observed her coolness to him; but, with +guests to entertain, he neither saw nor suspected it. She sat opposite +him at dinner richly dressed, her jewels and smiles alike dazzling: but +the smiles were not turned on him. + +"Is that chosen sponsor of yours coming up for the christening; lawyer +Carr?" tartly inquired the dowager from her seat, bringing her face and +her turban, all scarlet together, to bear on Hartledon. + +"He comes up by this evening's train; will be in London late to-night, if +the snow allows him, and stay with us until Sunday night," replied Val. + +"Oh! _That's_ no doubt the reason why you settled the christening for +Saturday: that your friend might have the benefit of Sunday?" + +"Just so, madam." + +And Lady Hartledon knew, by this, that her husband must have read the +letters. "I wonder what he has done with them?" came the mental thought, +shadowing forth a dim wish that she could read them too. + +In the drawing-room, after dinner, someone proposed a carpet quadrille, +but Lord Hartledon seemed averse to it. In his wife's present mood, his +opposition was, of course, the signal for her approval, and she began +pushing the chairs aside with her own hands. He approached her quietly. + +"Maude, do not let them dance to-night." + +"Why not?" + +"I have a reason. My dear, won't you oblige me in this?" + +"Tell me the reason, and perhaps I will; not otherwise." + +"I will tell it you another time. Trust me, I have a good one. What is +it, Hedges?" + +The butler had come up to his master in the unobtrusive manner of a +well-trained servant, and was waiting an opportunity to speak. He said a +word in Lord Hartledon's ear, and Lady Hartledon saw a shiver of surprise +run through her husband. He looked here, looked there, as one perplexed +with fear, and finally went out of the room with a calm face, but one +that was turning livid. + +Lady Hartledon followed in an impulse of curiosity. She looked after him +over the balustrades, and saw him turn into the library below. Hedges was +standing near the drawing-room door. + +"Does any one want Lord Hartledon?" + +"Yes, my lady." + +"Who is it?" + +"I don't know, my lady. Some gentleman." + +She ran lightly down the stairs, pausing at the foot, as if ashamed of +her persistent curiosity. The well-lighted hall was before her; the +dining-room on one side; the library and a small room communicating on +the other. Throwing back her head, as in defiance, she boldly crossed the +hall and opened the library door. + +Now what Lady Hartledon had really thought was that the visitor was Mr. +Carr; her husband was going to steal a quiet half-hour with him; and +Hedges was in the plot. She had not lived with Hartledon the best part +of a year without learning that Hedges was devoted heart and soul to his +master. + +She opened the library-door. Her husband's back was towards her; and +facing him, his arms raised as if in anger or remonstrance, was the same +stranger who had caused some commotion in the other house. She knew him +in a moment: there he was, with his staid face, his black clothes, and +his white neckcloth, looking so like a clergyman. Lord Hartledon turned +his head. + +"I am engaged, Maude; you can't come in," he peremptorily said; and +closed the door upon her. + +She went slowly up the stairs again, not choosing to meet the butler's +eyes, past the drawing-rooms, and up to her own. The sight of the +stranger, coupled with her husband's signs of emotion, had renewed all +her old suspicions, she knew not, she never had known, of what. Jumping +to the conclusion that those letters must be in some way connected with +the mystery, perhaps an advent of the visit, it set her thinking, and +rebellion arose in her heart. + +"I wonder if he put them in the ebony cabinet?" she exclaimed. "I have a +key that will fit that." + +Yes, she had a key to fit it. A few weeks before, Lord Hartledon mislaid +his keys; he wanted something out of this cabinet, in which he did not, +as a rule, keep anything of consequence, and tried hers. One was found to +unlock it, and he jokingly told her she had a key to his treasures. But +himself strictly honourable, he could not suspect dishonour in another; +and Lord Hartledon supposed it simply impossible that she should attempt +to open it of her own accord. + +They were of different natures; and they had been reared in different +schools. Poor Maude Kirton had learnt to be anything but scrupulous, +and really thought it a very slight thing she was about to do, almost +justifiable under the circumstances. Almost, if not quite. Nevertheless +she would not have liked to be caught at it. + +She took her bunch of keys and went into her husband's dressing-room, +which opened from their bedroom: but she went on tip-toe, as one who +knows she is doing wrong. It took some little time to try the keys, for +there were several on the ring, and she did not know the right one: but +the lid flew open at last, and disclosed the two letters lying there. + +She snatched at one, either that came first, and opened it. It happened +to be the one from Mr. Carr, and she began to read it, her heart beating. + + "Dear Hartledon, + + "I think I have at last found some trace of Gorton. There's a man of + that name in the criminal calendar here, down for trial to-morrow; I + shall see then whether it is the same, but the description tallies. + Should it be our Gorton, I think the better plan will be to leave him + entirely alone: a man undergoing a criminal sentence--and this man is + sure of a long period of it--has neither the means nor the motive to be + dangerous. He cannot molest you whilst he is working on Portland + Island; and, so far, you may live a little eased from fear. I wish--" + +Mr. Carr's was a close handwriting, and this concluded the first page. +She was turning it over, when Lord Hartledon's voice on the stairs caught +her ear. He seemed to be coming up. + +Ay, and he would have caught her at her work but for the accidental +circumstance of the old dowager's happening to look out of the +drawing-room and detaining him, as he was hastening onwards up the +stairs. She did her daughter good service that moment, if she had never +done it before. Maude had time to fold the letter, put it back, lock the +cabinet, and escape. Had she been a nervous woman, given to being +flurried and to losing her presence of mind, she might not have +succeeded; but she was cool and quick in emergency, her brain and fingers +steady. + +Nevertheless her heart beat a little as she stood within the other room, +the door not latched behind her. She did not stir, lest he should hear +her; and she hoped to remain unseen until he went down again. A ready +excuse was on her lips, if he happened to look in, which was not +probable: that she fancied she heard baby cry, and was listening. + +Lord Hartledon was walking about his dressing-room, pacing it restlessly, +and she very distinctly heard suppressed groans of mortal anguish +breaking from his lips. How he had got rid of his visitor, and what +the visitor came for, she knew not. He seemed to halt before the +washhand-stand, pour out some water, and dash his face into it. + +"God help me! God help Maude!" he ejaculated, as he went down again to +the drawing-room. + +And Lady Hartledon went down also, for the interruption had frightened +her, and she did not attempt to open the cabinet again. She never knew +more of the contents of Mr. Carr's letter; and only the substance of the +other, as communicated to her by her husband. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +CROSS-QUESTIONING MR. CARR. + + +Not until the Sunday morning did Lady Hartledon speak to her husband of +the stranger's visit. There seemed to have been no previous opportunity. +Mr. Carr had arrived late on the Friday night; indeed it was Saturday +morning, for the trains were all detained; and he and Hartledon sat up +together to an unconscionable hour. For this short visit he was Lord +Hartledon's guest. Saturday seemed to have been given to preparation, +to gaiety, and to nothing else. Perhaps also Lady Hartledon did not wish +to mar that day by an unpleasant word. The little child was christened; +the names given him being Edward Kirton: the countess-dowager, who was in +a chronic state of dissatisfaction with everything and every one, angrily +exclaimed at the last moment, that she thought at least her family name +might have been given to the child; and Lord Hartledon interposed, and +said, give it. Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Mr. Carr, were the sponsors: +and it would afford food for weeks of grumbling to the old dowager. +Hilarity reigned, and toasts were given to the new heir of Hartledon; +and the only one who seemed not to enter into the spirit of the thing, +but on the contrary to be subdued, absent, nervous, was the heir's +father. + +And so it went on to the Sunday morning. A cold, bleak, bitter morning, +the wind howling, the snow flying in drifts. Mr. Carr went to church, +and he was the only one of the party in the house who did go. The +countess-dowager the previous night had proclaimed the fact that _she_ +meant to go--as a sort of reproach to any who meant to keep away. +However, when the church-bells began, she was turning round in her +warm bed for another nap. + +Maude did not go down early; had not yet taken to doing so. She +breakfasted in her room, remained toying with her baby for some time, +and then went into her own sitting-room; a small cosy apartment on the +drawing-room floor, into which visitors did not intrude. It looked on to +Hyde Park, and a very white and dreary park it was on that particular +day. + +Drawing a chair to the window, she sat looking out. That is, her eyes +were given to the outer world, but she was so deep in thought as to see +nothing of it. For two nights and a day, burning with curiosity, she had +been putting this and that together in her own mind, and drawing +conclusions according to her own light. First, there was the advent of +the visitor; secondly, there was the letter she had dipped into. She +connected the two with each other and wondered WHAT the secret care could +be that had such telling effect upon her husband. + +Gorton. The name had struck upon her memory, even whilst she read it, as +one associated with that terrible time--the late Lord Hartledon's death. +Gradually the floodgates of recollection opened, and she knew him for the +witness at the inquest about whom some speculation had arisen as to who +he was, and what his business at Calne might have been with Lord +Hartledon and his brother, Val Elster. + +Why should her husband be afraid of this man?--as it seemed he _was_ +afraid, by Mr. Carr's letter. What power had he of injuring Lord +Hartledon?--what secret did he possess of his, that might be used against +him? Turning it about in her mind, and turning it again, searching her +imagination for a solution, Lady Hartledon at length arrived at one, in +default of others. She thought this man must know some untoward fact +by which the present Lord Hartledon's succession was imperilled. Possibly +the late Lord Hartledon had made some covert and degrading marriage; +leaving an obscure child who possessed legal rights, and might yet claim +them. A romantic, far-fetched idea, you will say; but she could think of +no other that was in the least feasible. And she remembered some faint +idea having arisen in her mind at the time, that the visit of the man +Gorton was in some way connected with trouble, though she did not know +with which brother. + +Val came in and shut the door. He stirred the fire into a blaze, making +some remark about the snow, and wondering how Carr would get down to the +country again. Maude gave a slight answer, and then there was silence. +Each was considering how best to say something to the other. She was the +quicker. + +"Lord Hartledon, what did that man want on Friday?" + +"What man?" he rejoined, rather wincing--for he knew well enough to what +she alluded. + +"The man--gentleman, or whatever he is--who had you called down to him in +the library." + +"By the way, Maude--yes--you should not dart in when I am engaged with +visitors on business." + +"Well, I thought it was Mr. Carr," she replied, glancing at his +heightened colour. "What did he want?" + +"Only to say a word to me on a matter of business." + +"It was the same person who upset you so when he called last autumn. You +have never been the same man since." + +"Don't take fancies into your head, Maude." + +"Fancies! you know quite well there is no fancy about it. That man holds +some unpleasant secret of yours, I am certain." + +"Maude!" + +"Will you tell it me?" + +"I have nothing to tell." + +"Ah, well; I expected you wouldn't speak," she answered, with subdued +bitterness; as much as to say, that she made a merit of resigning herself +to an injustice she could not help. "You have been keeping things from me +a long time." + +"I have kept nothing from you it would give you pleasure to know. It is +not--Maude, pray hear me--it is not always expedient for a man to make +known to his wife the jars and rubs he has himself to encounter. A +hundred trifles may arise that are best spared to her. That gentleman's +business concerned others as well as myself, and I am not at liberty to +speak of it." + +"You refuse, then, to admit me to your confidence?" + +"In this I do. I am the best judge--and you must allow me to be so--of +what ought, and what ought not, to be spoken of to you. You may always +rely upon my acting for your best happiness, as far as lies in my power." + +He had been pacing the room whilst he spoke. Lady Hartledon was in too +resentful a mood to answer. Glancing at her, he stood by the mantelpiece +and leaned his elbow upon it. + +"I want to make known to you another matter, Maude. If I have kept it +from you--" + +"Does it concern this secret business of yours?" she interrupted. + +"No." + +"Then let us have done with this first, if you please. Who is Gorton?" + +"Who is--Gorton?" he repeated, after a dumbfounded pause. "What Gorton?" + +"Well, I don't know; unless it's that man who gave evidence at the +inquest on your brother." + +Lord Hartledon stared at her, as well he might; and gulped down his +breath, which seemed choking him. "But what about Gorton? Why do you ask +me the question?" + +"Because I fancy he is connected with this trouble. I--I thought I heard +you and Mr. Carr mention the name yesterday when you were whispering +together. I'm sure I did--there!" + +As far as Lord Hartledon remembered, he and Mr. Carr had not been +whispering together yesterday; had not mentioned the name of Gorton. +They had done with the subject at that late sitting, the night of the +barrister's arrival; who had brought news that the Gorton, that morning +tried for a great crime, was _not_ the Gorton of whom they were in +search. Lord Hartledon gazed at his wife with questioning eyes, but she +persisted in her assertion. It was sinfully untrue; but how else could +she account for knowing the name? + +"Do you suppose I dreamed it, Lord Hartledon?" + +"I don't know whether you dreamed it or not, Maude. Mr. Carr has +certainly spoken to me since he came of a man of that name; but as +certainly not in your hearing. One Gorton was tried for his life on +Friday--or almost for his life--and he mentioned to me the circumstances +of the case: housebreaking, accompanied by violence, which ended in +death. I cannot understand you, Maude, or the fancies you seem to be +taking up." + +She saw how it was--he would admit nothing: and she looked straight out +across the dreary park, a certain obstinate defiance veiled in her eyes. +By the help of Heaven or earth, she would find out this secret that he +refused to disclose to her. + +"Almost every action of your life bespeaks concealment," she resumed. +"Look at those letters you received in your dressing-room on Friday +night: you just opened them and thrust them unread into your pocket, +because I happened to be there. And yet you talk of caring for me! I know +those letters contained some secret or other you dare not tell me." + +She rose in some temper, and gave the fire a fierce stir. + +Lord Hartledon kept her by him. + +"One of those letters was from Mr. Carr; and I presume you can make no +objection to my hearing from him. The other--Maude, I have waited until +now to disclose its contents to you; I would not mar your happiness +yesterday." + +She looked up at him. Something in his voice, a sad pitying tenderness, +caused her heart to beat a shade quicker. "It was a foreign letter, +Maude. I think you observed that. It bore the French postmark." + +A light broke upon her. "Oh, Percival, it is about Robert! Surely he is +not worse!" + +He drew her closer to him: not speaking. + +"He is not dead?" she said, with a rush of tears. "Ah, you need not tell +me; I see it. Robert! Robert!" + +"It has been a happy death, Maude, and he is better off. He was quite +ready to go. I wish we were as ready!" + +Lord Hartledon took out the letter and read the chief portion of it to +her. One little part he dexterously omitted, describing the cause of +death--disease of the heart. + +"But I thought he was getting so much better. What has killed him in this +sudden manner?" + +"Well, there was no great hope from the first. I confess I have +entertained none. Mr. Hillary, you know, warned us it might end either +way." + +"Was it decline?" she asked, her tears falling. + +"He has been declining gradually, no doubt." + +"Oh, Percival! Why did you not tell me at once? It seems so cruel to have +had all that entertainment yesterday! This is why you did not wish us to +dance!" + +"And if I had told you, and stopped the entertainment, allowing the poor +little fellow to be christened in gloom and sorrow, you would have been +the first to reproach me; you might have said it augured ill-luck for the +child." + +"Well, perhaps I should; yes, I am sure I should. You have acted rightly, +after all, Val." And it was a candid admission, considering what she had +been previously saying. He bent towards her with a smile, his voice quite +unsteady with its earnestness. + +"You see now with what motive I kept the letter from you. Maude! cannot +this be an earnest that you should trust me for the rest? In all I do, as +Heaven is my witness, I place your comfort first and foremost." + +"Don't be angry with me," she cried, softening at the words. + +He laid his hand on his wife's bent head, thinking how far he was from +anger. Anger? He would have died for her then, at that moment, if it +might have saved her from the sin and shame that she must share with him. + +"Have you told mamma, Percival?" + +"Not yet. It would not have been kept from you long had she known it. She +is not up yet, I think." + +"Who has written?" + +"The doctor who attended him." + +"You'll let me read the letter?" + +"I have written to desire that full particulars may be sent to you: you +shall read that one." + +The tacit refusal did not strike her. She only supposed the future letter +would be more explanatory. He was always anxious for her; and he had +written off on the Friday night to ask for a letter giving fuller +particulars, whilst avoiding mention of the cause of death. + +Thus harmony for the hour was restored between them; and Lord Hartledon +stood the dowager's loud reproaches with equanimity. In possession of the +news of that darling angel's death ever since Friday night, and to have +bottled it up within him till Sunday! She wondered what he thought of +himself! + +After all, Val had not quite "bottled it up." He had made it known to his +brother-in-law, Lord Kirton, and also to Mr. Carr. Both had agreed that +nothing had better be said until the christening-day was over. + +But there came a reaction. When Lady Hartledon had got over her first +grief, the other annoyance returned to her, and she fell again to +brooding over it in a very disturbing fashion. She merited blame for this +in a degree; but not so much as appears on the surface. If that idea, +which she was taking up very seriously, were correct--that her husband's +succession was imperilled--it would be the greatest misfortune that could +happen to her in life. What had she married for but position?--rank, +wealth, her title? any earthly misfortune would be less keen than this. +Any earthly misfortune! Poor Maude! + +It was a sombre dinner that evening; the news of Captain Kirton's death +making it so. Besides relatives, very few guests were staying in the +house; and the large and elaborate dinner-party of the previous day was +reduced to a small one on this. The first to come into the drawing-room +afterwards, following pretty closely on the ladies, was Mr. Carr. The +dowager, who rarely paid attention to appearances, or to anything else, +except her own comfort, had her feet up on a sofa, and was fast asleep; +two ladies were standing in front of the fire, talking in undertones; +Lady Hartledon sat on a sofa a little apart, her baby on her knee; and +her sister-in-law, Lady Kirton, a fragile and rather cross-looking young +woman, who looked as if a breath would blow her away, was standing over +her, studying the infant's face. The latter lady moved away and joined +the group at the fire as Mr. Carr approached Lady Hartledon. + +"You have your little charge here, I see!" + +"Please excuse it; I meant to have sent him away before any of you came +up," she said, quite pleadingly. "Sarah took upon herself to proclaim +aloud that his eyes were not straight, and I could not help having him +brought down to refute her words. Not straight, indeed! She's only +envious of him." + +Sarah was Lady Kirton. Mr. Carr smiled. + +"She has no children herself. I think you might be proud of your godson, +Mr. Carr. But he ought not to have been here to receive you, for all +that." + +"I have come up soon to say good-bye, Lady Hartledon. In ten minutes I +must be gone." + +"In all this snow! What a night to travel in!" + +"Necessity has no law. So, sir, you'd imprison my finger, would you!" + +He had touched the child's hand, and in a moment it was clasped round his +finger. Lady Hartledon laughed. + +"Lady Kirton--the most superstitious woman in the world--would say that +was an omen: you are destined to be his friend through life." + +"As I will be," said the barrister, his tone more earnest than the +occasion seemed to call for. + +Lady Hartledon, with a graciousness she was little in the habit of +showing to Mr. Carr, made room for him beside her, and he sat down. The +baby lay on his back, his wide-open eyes looking upwards, good as gold. + +"How quiet he is! How he stares!" reiterated the barrister, who did not +understand much about babies, except for a shadowy idea that they lived +in a state of crying for the first six months. + +"He is the best child in the world; every one says so," she returned. +"He is not the least--Hey-day! what do you mean by contradicting mamma +like that? Behave yourself, sir." + +For the infant, as if to deny his goodness, set up a sudden cry. Mr. Carr +laughed. He put down his finger again, and the little fingers clasped +round it, and the cry ceased. + +"He does not like to lose his friend, you see, Lady Hartledon." + +"I wish you would be my friend as well as his," she rejoined; and the low +meaning tones struck on Mr. Carr's ear. + +"I trust I am your friend," he answered. + +She was still for a few moments; her pale beautiful face inclining +towards the child's; her large dark eyes bent upon him. She turned them +on Mr. Carr. + +"This has been a sad day." + +"Yes, for you. It is grievous to lose a brother." + +"And to lose him without the opportunity of a last look, a last farewell. +Robert was my best and favourite brother. But the day has been marked as +unhappy for other causes than that." + +Was it an uncomfortable prevision of what was coming that caused Mr. Carr +not to answer her? He talked to the unconscious baby, and played with its +cheeks. + +"What secret is this that you and my husband have between you, Mr. Carr?" +she asked abruptly. + +He ceased his laughing with the baby, said something about its soft face, +was altogether easy and careless in his manner, and then answered in +half-jesting tones: + +"Which one, Lady Hartledon?" + +"Which one! Have you more than one?" she continued, taking the words +literally. + +"We might count up half-a-dozen, I daresay. I cannot tell you how many +things I have not confided to him. We are quite--" + +"I mean the secret that affects _him_" she interrupted, in aggrieved +tones, feeling that Mr. Carr was playing with her. + +"There is some dread upon him that's wearing him to a shadow, poisoning +his happiness, making his days and nights one long restlessness. Do you +think it right to keep it from me, Mr. Carr? Is it what you and he are +both doing--and are in league with each other to do?" + +"_I_ am not keeping any secret from you, Lady Hartledon." + +"You know you are. Nonsense! Do you think I have forgotten that evening +that was the beginning of it, when a tall strange man dressed as a +clergyman, came here, and you both were shut up with him for I can't tell +how long, and Lord Hartledon came out from it looking like a ghost? You +and he both misled me, causing me to believe that the Ashtons were +entering an action against him for breach of promise; laying the damages +at ten thousand pounds. I mean _that_ secret, Mr. Carr," she added with +emphasis. "The same man was here on Friday night again; and when you came +to the house afterwards, you and Lord Hartledon sat up until nearly +daylight." + +Mr. Carr, who had his eyes on the exacting baby, shook his head, and +intimated that he was really unable to understand her. + +"When you are in town he is always at your chambers; when you are away he +receives long letters from you that I may not read." + +"Yes, we have been on terms of close friendship for years. And Lord +Hartledon is an idle man, you know, and looks me up." + +"He said you were arranging some business for him last autumn." + +"Last autumn? Let me see. Yes, I think I was." + +"Mr. Carr, is it of any use playing with me? Do you think it right or +kind to do so?" + +His manner changed at once; he turned to her with eyes as earnest as her +own. + +"Lady Hartledon, I would tell you anything that I could and ought to tell +you. That your husband has been engaged in some complicated business, +which I have been--which I have taken upon myself to arrange for him, is +very true. I know that he does not wish it mentioned, and therefore my +lips are sealed: but it is as well you did not know it, for it would give +you no satisfaction." + +"Does it involve anything very frightful?" + +"It might involve the--the loss of a large sum of money," he answered, +making the best reply he could. + +Lady Hartledon sank her voice to a whisper. "Does it involve the possible +loss of his title?--of Hartledon?" + +"No," said Mr. Carr, looking at her with surprise. + +"You are sure?" + +"Certain. I give you my word. What can have got into your head, Lady +Hartledon?" + +She gave a sigh of relief. "I thought it just possible--but I will not +tell you why I thought it--that some claimant might be springing up to +the title and property." + +Mr. Carr laughed. "That would be a calamity. Hartledon is as surely your +husband's as this watch"--taking it out to look at the time--"is mine. +When his brother died, he succeeded to him of indisputable right. And now +I must go, for my time is up; and when next I see you, young gentleman, +I shall expect a good account of your behaviour. Why, sir, the finger's +mine, not yours. Good-bye, Lady Hartledon." + +She gave him her hand coolly, for she was not pleased. The baby began to +cry, and was sent away with its nurse. + +And then Lady Hartledon sat on alone, feeling that if she were ever to +arrive at the solution of the mystery, it would not be by the help of Mr. +Carr. Other questions had been upon her lips--who the stranger was--what +he wanted--five hundred of them: but she saw that she might as well have +put them to the moon. + +And Lord Hartledon went out with Mr. Carr in the inclement night, and saw +him off by a Great-Western train. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +MAUDE'S DISOBEDIENCE. + + +Again the months went on, it may almost be said the years, and little +took place worthy of record. Time obliterates as well as soothes; and +Lady Hartledon had almost forgotten the circumstances which had perplexed +and troubled her, for nothing more had come of them. + +And Lord Hartledon? But for a certain restlessness, a hectic flush and a +worn frame, betraying that the inward fever was not quenched, a startled +movement if approached or spoken to unexpectedly, it might be thought +that he also was at rest. There were no more anxious visits to Thomas +Carr's chambers; he went about his ordinary duties, sat out his hours +in the House of Lords, and did as other men. There was nothing very +obvious to betray mental apprehension; and Maude had certainly dismissed +the past, so far, from her mind. + +Not again had Val gone down to Hartledon. With the exception of that +short visit of a day or two, already recorded, he had not been there +since his marriage. He would not go: his wife, though she had her way in +most things, could not induce him to go. She went once or twice, in a +spirit of defiance, it may be said, and meanwhile he remained in +London, or took a short trip to the Continent, as the whim prompted him. +Once they had gone abroad together, and remained for some months; taking +servants and the children, for there were two children now; and the +little fellow who had clasped the finger of Mr. Carr was a sturdy boy of +three years old. + +Lady Hartledon's health was beginning to fail. The doctors told her she +must be more quiet; she went out a great deal, and seemed to live only +in the world. Her husband remonstrated with her on the score of health; +but she laughed, and said she was not going to give up pleasure just yet. +Of course these gay habits are more easily acquired than relinquished. +Lady Hartledon had fainting-fits; she felt occasional pain and +palpitation in the region of the heart; and she grew thin without +apparent cause. She said nothing about it, lest it should be made a plea +for living more quietly; never dreaming of danger. Had she known what +caused her brother's death her fears might possibly have been awakened. +Lord Hartledon suspected mischief might be arising, and cautiously +questioned her; she denied that anything was the matter, and he felt +reassured. His chief care was to keep her free from excitement; and in +this hope he gave way to her more than he would otherwise have done. But +alas! the moment was approaching when all his care would be in vain; when +the built-up security of years was destroyed by a single act of wilful +disobedience to him. The sword so long suspended over his head, was to +fall on hers at last. + +One spring afternoon, in London, he was in his wife's sitting-room; the +little room where you have seen her before, looking upon the Park. The +children were playing on the carpet--two pretty little things; the girl +eighteen months old. + +"Take care!" suddenly called out Lady Hartledon. + +Some one was opening the door, and the little Maude was too near to it. +She ran and picked up the child, and Hedges came in with a card for his +master, saying at the same time that the gentleman was waiting. Lord +Hartledon held it to the fire to read the name. + +"Who is it?" asked Lady Hartledon, putting the little girl down by the +window, and approaching her husband. But there came no answer. + +Whether the silence aroused her suspicions--whether any look in her +husband's face recalled that evening of terror long ago--or whether +some malicious instinct whispered the truth, can never be known. Certain +it was that the past rose up as in a mirror before Lady Hartledon's +imagination, and she connected this visitor with the former. She bent +over his shoulder to peep at the card; and her husband, startled out +of his presence of mind, tore it in two and threw the pieces into the +fire. + +"Oh, very well!" she exclaimed, mortally offended. "But you cannot blind +me: it is your mysterious visitor again." + +"I don't know what you mean, Maude. It is only someone on business." + +"Then I will go and ask him his business," she said, moving to the door +with angry resolve. + +Val was too quick for her. He placed his back against the door, and +lifted his hands in agitation. It was a great fault of his, or perhaps +a misfortune--for he could not help it--this want of self-control in +moments of emergency. + +"Maude, I forbid you to interfere in this; you must not. For Heaven's +sake, sit down and remain quiet." + +"I'll see your visitor, and know, at last, what this strange trouble is. +I will, Lord Hartledon." + +"You must not: do you hear me?" he reiterated with deep emotion, for she +was trying to force her way out of the room. "Maude--listen--I do not +mean to be harsh, but for your own good I conjure you to be still. I +forbid you, by the obedience you promised me before God, to inquire into +or stir in this matter. It is a private affair of my own, and not yours. +Stay here until I return." + +Maude drew back, as if in compliance; and Lord Hartledon, supposing +he had prevailed, quitted the room and closed the door. He was quite +mistaken. Never had her solemn vows of obedience been so utterly +despised; never had the temptation to evil been so rife in her heart. + +She unlatched the door and listened. Lord Hartledon went downstairs and +into the library, just as he had done the evening before the christening. +And Lady Hartledon was certain the same man awaited him there. Ringing +the nursery-bell, she took off her slippers, unseen, and hid them under +a chair. + +"Remain here with the children," was her order to the nurse who appeared, +as she shut the woman into the room. + +Creeping down softly she opened the door of the room behind the library, +and glided in. It was a small room, used exclusively by Lord Hartledon, +where he kept a heterogeneous collection of things--papers, books, +cigars, pipes, guns, scientific models, anything--and which no one but +himself ever attempted to enter. The intervening door between that and +the library was not quite closed; and Lady Hartledon, cautiously pushed +it a little further open. Wilful, unpardonable disobedience! when he had +so strongly forbidden her! It was the same tall stranger. He was speaking +in low tones, and Lord Hartledon leaned against the wall with a blank +expression of face. + +She saw; and heard. But how she controlled her feelings, how she remained +and made no sign, she never knew. But that the instinct of self-esteem +was one of her strongest passions, the dread of detection in proportion +to it, she never had remained. There she was, and she could not get away +again. The subtle dexterity which had served her in coming might desert +her in returning. Had their senses been on the alert they might have +heard her poor heart beating. + +The interview did not last long--about twenty minutes; and whilst Lord +Hartledon was attending his visitor to the door she escaped upstairs +again, motioned away the nurse, and resumed her shoes. But what did she +look like? Not like Maude Hartledon. Her face was as that of one upon +whom some awful doom has fallen; her breath was coming painfully; and she +kneeled down on the carpet and clasped her children to her beating heart +with an action of wild despair. + +"Oh, my boy! my boy! Oh, my little Maude!" + +Suddenly she heard her husband's step approaching, and pushing them +from her, rose and stood at the window, apparently looking out on the +darkening world. + +Lord Hartledon came in, gaily and cheerily, his manner lighter than it +had been for years. + +"Well, Maude, I have not been long, you see. Why don't you have lights?" + +She did not answer: only stared straight out. Her husband approached her. +"What are you looking at, Maude?" + +"Nothing," she answered: "my head aches. I think I shall lie down until +dinner-time. Eddie, open the door, and call Nurse, as loud as you can +call." + +The little boy obeyed, and the nurse returned, and was ordered to take +the children. Lady Hartledon was following them to go to her own room, +when she fell into a chair and went off in a dead faint. + +"It's that excitement," said Val. "I do wish Maude would be reasonable!" + +The illness, however, appeared to be more serious than an ordinary +fainting-fit; and Lord Hartledon, remembering the suspicion of +heart-disease, sent for the family doctor Sir Alexander Pepps, an +oracle in the fashionable world. + +A different result showed itself--equally caused by excitement--and the +countess-dowager arrived in a day or two in hot haste. Lady Hartledon lay +in bed, and did not attempt to get up or to get better. She lay almost as +one without life, taking no notice of any one, turning her head from her +husband when he entered, refusing to answer her mother, keeping the +children away from the room. + +"Why doesn't she get up, Pepps?" demanded the dowager, wrathfully, +pouncing upon the physician one day, when he was leaving the house. + +Sir Alexander, who might have been supposed to have received his +baronetcy for his skill, but that titles, like kissing, go by favour, +stopped short, took off his hat, and presumed that Lady Hartledon felt +more comfortable in bed. + +"Rubbish! We might all lie in bed if we studied comfort. Is there any +earthly reason why she should stay there, Pepps?" + +"Not any, except weakness." + +"Except idleness, you mean. Why don't you order her to get up?" + +"I have advised Lady Hartledon to do so, and she does not attend to me," +replied Sir Alexander. + +"Oh," said the dowager. "She was always wilful. What about her heart?" + +"Her heart!" echoed Sir Alexander, looking up now as if a little aroused. + +"Dear me, yes; her heart; I didn't say her liver. Is it sound, Pepps?" + +"It's sound, for anything I know to the contrary. I never suspected +anything the matter with her heart." + +"Then you are a fool!" retorted the complimentary dowager. + +Sir Alexander's temperament was remarkably calm. Nothing could rouse +him out of his tame civility, which had been taken more than once for +obsequiousness. The countess-dowager had patronized him in earlier years, +when he was not a great man, or had begun to dream of becoming one. + +"Don't you recollect I once consulted you on the subject--what's your +memory good for? She was a girl then, of fourteen or so; and you were +worth fifty of what you are now, in point of discernment." + +The oracle carried his thoughts back, and really could not recollect it. +"Ahem! yes; and the result was--was--" + +"The result was that you said the heart had nothing the matter with it, +and I said it had," broke in the impatient dowager. + +"Ah, yes, madam, I remember. Pray, have you reason to suspect anything +wrong now?" + +"That's what you ought to have ascertained, Pepps, not me. What d'you +mean by your neglect? What, I ask, does she lie in bed for? If her +heart's right, there's nothing more the matter with her than there is +with you." + +"Perhaps your ladyship can persuade Lady Hartledon to exert herself," +suggested the bland doctor. "I can't; and I confess I think that she only +wants rousing." + +With a flourish of his hat and his small gold-headed black cane the +doctor bowed himself out from the formidable dowager. That lady turned +her back upon him, and betook herself on the spur of the moment to +Maude's room, determined to "have it out." + +Curious sounds greeted her, as of some one in hysterical pain. On the +bed, clasped to his mother in nervous agony, was the wondering child, +little Lord Elster: words of distress, nay, of despair, breaking from +her. It seemed, the little boy, who was rather self-willed and rebellious +on occasion, had escaped from the nursery, and stolen to his mother's +room. The dowager halted at the door, and looked out from her astonished +eyes. + +"Oh, Edward, if we were but dead! Oh, my darling, if it would only please +Heaven to take us both! I couldn't send for you, child; I couldn't see +you; the sight of you kills me. You don't know; my babies, you don't +know!" + +"What on earth does all this mean?" interrupted the dowager, stepping +forward. And Lady Hartledon dropped the boy, and fell back on the bed, +exhausted. + +"What have you done to your mamma, sir?" + +The child, conscious that he had not done anything, but frightened on the +whole, repented of his disobedience, and escaped from the chamber more +quickly than he had entered it. The dowager hated to be puzzled, and went +wrathfully up to her daughter. + +"Perhaps you'll tell me what's the matter, Maude." + +Lady Hartledon grew calm. The countess-dowager pressed the question. + +"There's nothing the matter," came the tardy and rather sullen reply. + +"Why do you wish yourself dead, then?" + +"Because I do." + +"How dare you answer me so?" + +"It's the truth. I should be spared suffering." + +The countess-dowager paused. "Spared suffering!" she mentally repeated; +and being a woman given to arriving at rapid conclusions without rhyme or +reason, she bethought herself that Maude must have become acquainted with +the suspicion regarding her heart. + +"Who told you that?" shrieked the dowager. "It was that fool Hartledon." + +"He has told me nothing," said Maude, in an access of resentment, all too +visible. "Told me what?" + +"Why, about your heart. That's what I suppose it is." + +Maude raised herself upon her elbow, her wan face fixed on her mother's. +"Is there anything the matter with my heart?" she calmly asked. + +And then the old woman found that she had made a grievous mistake, and +hastened to repair it. + +"I thought there might be, and asked Pepps. I've just asked him now; and +he's says there's nothing the matter with it." + +"I wish there were!" said Maude. + +"You wish there were! That's a pretty wish for a reasonable Christian," +cried the tart dowager. "You want your husband to lecture you; saying +such things." + +"I wish he were hanged!" cried Maude, showing her glistening teeth. + +"My gracious!" exclaimed the wondering old lady, after a pause. "What has +he done?" + +"Why did you urge me to marry him? Oh, mother, can't you see that I am +dying--dying of horror--and shame--and grief? You had better have buried +me instead." + +For once in her selfish and vulgar mind the countess-dowager felt a +feeling akin to fear. In her astonishment she thought Maude must be going +mad. + +"You'd do well to get some sleep, dear," she said in a subdued tone; "and +to-morrow you must get up; Pepps says so; he thinks you want rousing." + +"I have not slept since; it's not sleep, it's a dead stupor, in which +I dream things as horrible as the reality," murmured Maude, unconscious +perhaps that she spoke aloud. "I shall never sleep again." + +"Not slept since when?" + +"I don't know." + +"Can't you say what you mean?" cried the puzzled dowager. "If you've any +grievance, tell it out; if you've not, don't talk nonsense." + +But Lady Hartledon, though thus sweetly allured to confession, held her +tongue. Her half-scattered senses came back to her, and with them a +reticence she would not break. The countess-dowager hardly knew whether +she deserved pitying or shaking, and went off in a fit of exasperation, +breaking in upon her son-in-law as he was busy looking over some accounts +in the library. + +"I want to know what is the matter with Maude." + +He turned round in his chair, and met the dowager's flaxen wig and +crimson face. Val did not know what was the matter with his wife any more +than the questioner did. He supposed she would be all right when she grew +stronger. + +"She says it's _you_" said the gentle dowager, improving upon her +information. "She has just been wishing you were hanged." + +"Ah, you have been teasing her," he returned, with composure. "Maude says +all sorts of things when she's put out." + +"Perhaps she does," was the retort; "but she meant this, for she showed +her teeth when she said it. You can't blind me; and I have seen ever +since I came here that there was something wrong between you and Maude." + +For that matter, Val had seen it too. Since the night of his wife's +fainting-fit she had scarcely spoken a word to him; had appeared as if +she could not tolerate his presence for an instant in her room. Lord +Hartledon felt persuaded that it arose from resentment at his having +refused to allow her to see the stranger. He rose from his seat. + +"There's nothing wrong between me and Maude, Lady Kirton. If there were, +you must pardon me for saying that I could not suffer any interference in +it. But there is not." + +"Something's wrong somewhere. I found her just now sobbing and moaning +over Eddie, wishing they were both dead, and all the rest of it. If she +goes on like this for nothing, she's losing her senses, that's all." + +"She'll be all right when she's stronger. Pray don't worry her. She'll be +well soon, I daresay. And now I shall be glad if you'll leave me, for I +am very busy." + +She did not leave him any the quicker for the request, but stayed to +worry him, as it was in her nature to worry every one. Getting rid of her +at last, he turned the key of the door, and wished her a hundred miles +away. + +The wish bore fruit. In a few days some news she heard regarding her +eldest son--who was a widower now--took the dowager to Ireland, and Lord +Hartledon wished he could as easily turn the key of the house upon her as +he had turned that of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE SWORD SLIPPED. + + +Summer dust was in the London streets, summer weather in the air, and the +carriage of that fashionable practitioner, Sir Alexander Pepps, still +waited before Lord Hartledon's house. It had waited there more frequently +in these later weeks than of old. + +The great world--_her_ world--wondered what was the matter with her: Sir +Alexander wondered also. Perhaps had he been a less courtly man he might +have rapped out "obstinacy," if questioned upon the point; as it was, he +murmured of "weakness." Weak she undoubtedly was; and she did not seem to +try in the least to grow strong again. She did not go into society now; +she dressed as usual, and sat in her drawing-room, and received visitors +if the whim took her; but she was usually denied to all; and said she was +not well enough to go out. From her husband she remained bitterly +estranged. If he attempted to be friendly with her, to ask what was +ailing her, she either sharply refused to say, or maintained a persistent +silence. Lord Hartledon could not account for her behaviour, and was +growing tired of it. + +Poor Maude! That some grievous blow had fallen upon her was all too +evident. Resentment, anguish, bitter despair alternated within her +breast, and she seemed really not to care whether she lived or died. Was +it for _this_ that she had schemed, and so successfully, to wrest Lord +Hartledon from his promised bride Anne Ashton? She would lie back in her +chair and ask it. No labour of hers could by any possibility have brought +forth a result by which Miss Ashton could be so well avenged. Heaven is +true to itself, and Dr. Ashton had left vengeance with it. Lady Hartledon +looked back on her fleeting triumph; a triumph at the time certainly, but +a short one. It had not fulfilled its golden promises: that sort of +triumph perhaps never does. It had been followed by ennui, repentance, +dissatisfaction with her husband, and it had resulted in a very moonlight +sort of happiness, which had at length centred only in the children. The +children! Maude gave a cry of anguish as she thought of them. No; take it +altogether, the play from the first had not been worth the candle. And +now? She clasped her thin hands in a frenzy of impotent rage--with Anne +Ashton had lain the real triumph, with herself the sacrifice. Too well +Maude understood a remark her husband once made in answer to a reproach +of hers in the first year of their marriage--that he was thankful not to +have wedded Anne. + +One morning Sir Alexander Pepps, on his way from the drawing-room +to his chariot--a very old-fashioned chariot that all the world knew +well--paused midway in the hall, with his cane to his nose, and +condescended to address the man with the powdered wig who was escorting +him. + +"Is his lordship at home?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I wish to see him." + +So the wig changed its course, and Sir Alexander was bowed into +the presence. His lordship rose with what the French would call +_empressement_, to receive the great man. + +"Thank you, I have not time to sit," said he, declining the offered chair +and standing, cane in hand. "I have three consultations to-day, and some +urgent cases. I grieve to have a painful duty to fulfil; but I must +inform you that Lady Hartledon's health gives me uneasiness." + +Lord Hartledon did not immediately reply; but it was not from want of +genuine concern. + +"What is really the matter with her?" + +"Debility; nothing else," replied Sir Alexander. "But these cases of +extreme debility cause so much perplexity. Where there is no particular +disease to treat, and the patient does not rally, why--" + +He understood the doctor's pause to mean something ominous. "What can be +done?" he asked. "I have remarked, with pain, that she does not gain +strength. Change of air? The seaside--" + +"She says she won't go," interrupted the physician. "In fact, her +ladyship objects to everything I can suggest or propose." + +"It's very strange," said Lord Hartledon. + +"At times it has occurred to me that she has something on her mind," +continued Sir Alexander. "Upon my delicately hinting this opinion to Lady +Hartledon, she denied it with a vehemence which caused me to suspect that +I was correct. Does your lordship know of anything likely to--to torment +her?" + +"Not anything," replied Lord Hartledon, confidently. "I think I can +assure you that there is nothing of the sort." + +And he spoke according to his belief; for he knew of nothing. He would +have supposed it simply impossible that Lady Hartledon had been made +privy to the dreadful secret which had weighed on him; and he never gave +that a thought. + +Sir Alexander nodded, reassured on the point. + +"I should wish for a consultation, if your lordship has no objection." + +"Then pray call it without delay. Have anything, do anything, that may +conduce to Lady Hartledon's recovery. You do not suspect heart-disease?" + +"The symptoms are not those of any heart-disease known to me. Lady Kirton +spoke to me of this; but I see nothing to apprehend at present on that +score. If there's any latent affection, it has not yet shown itself. Then +we'll arrange the consultation for to-morrow." + +Sir Alexander Pepps was bowed out; and the consultation took place; which +left the matter just where it was before. The wise doctors thought there +was nothing radically wrong; but strongly recommended change of air. Sir +Alexander confidently mentioned Torbay; he had great faith in Torbay; +perhaps his lordship could induce Lady Hartledon to try it? She had +flatly told the consultation that she would _not_ try it. + +Lady Hartledon was seated in the drawing-room when he went in, willing to +do what he could; any urging of his had not gone far with her of late. A +white silk shawl covered her dress of green check silk; she wore a shawl +constantly now, having a perpetual tendency to shiver; her handsome +features were white and attenuated, but her eyes were brilliant still, +and her dark hair was dressed in elaborate braids. + +"So you have had the doctors here, Maude," he remarked, cheerfully. + +She nodded a reply, and began to fidget with the body of her gown. It +seemed that she had to do something or other always to her attire +whenever he spoke to her--which partially took away her attention. + +"Sir Alexander tells me they have been recommending you Torbay." + +"I am not going to Torbay." + +"Oh yes, you are, Maude," he soothingly said. "It will be a change for us +all. The children will benefit by it as much as you, and so shall I." + +"I tell you I shall not go to Torbay." + +"Would you prefer any other place?" + +"I will not go anywhere; I have told them so." + +"Then I declare that I'll carry you off by force!" he cried, rather +sharply. "Why do you vex me like this? You know you must go?" + +She made no reply. He drew a chair close to her and sat down. + +"Maude," he said, speaking all the more gently for his recent outbreak, +"you must be aware that you do not recover as quickly as we could wish--" + +"I do not recover at all," she interrupted. "I don't want to recover." + +"My dear, how can you talk so? There is nothing the matter with you but +weakness, and that will soon be overcome if you exert yourself." + +"No, it won't. I shall not leave home." + +"Somewhere you must go, for the workmen are coming into the house; and +for the next two months it will not be habitable." + +"Who is bringing them in?" she asked, with flashing eyes. + +"You know it was decided long ago that the house should be done up this +summer. It wants it badly enough. Torbay--" + +"I will not go to Torbay, Lord Hartledon. If I am to be turned out of +this house, I'll go to the other." + +"What other?" + +"Hartledon." + +"Not to Hartledon," said he, quickly, for his dislike to the place had +grown with time, and the word grated on his ear. + +"Then I remain where I am." + +"Maude," he resumed in quiet tones, "I will not urge you to try sea-air +for my sake, because you do what you can to show me I am of little moment +to you; but I will say try it for the sake of the children. Surely, they +are dear to you!" + +A subdued sound of pain broke from her lips, as if she could not bear to +hear them named. + +"It's of no use prolonging this discussion," she said. "An invalid's +fancies may generally be trusted, and mine point to Hartledon--if I am to +be disturbed at all. I should not so much mind going there." + +A pause ensued. Lord Hartledon had taken her hand, and was mechanically +turning round her wedding-ring, his thoughts far away; it hung +sufficiently loosely now on the wasted finger. She lay back in her +chair, looking on with apathy, too indifferent to withdraw her hand. + +"Why did you put it on?" she asked, abruptly. + +"Why indeed?" returned his lordship, deep in his abstraction. "What did +you say, Maude?" he added, awaking in a flurry. "Put what on?" + +"My wedding-ring." + +"My dear! But about Hartledon--if you fancy that, and nowhere else, +I suppose we must go there." + +"You also?" + +"Of course." + +"Ah! when your wife's chord of life is loosening what model husbands you +men become!" she uttered. "You have never gone to Hartledon with me; you +have suffered me to be there alone, through a ridiculous reminiscence; +but now that you are about to lose me you will go!" + +"Why do you encourage these gloomy thoughts about yourself, Maude?" he +asked, passing over the Hartledon question. "One would think you wished +to die." + +"I do not know," she replied in tones of deliberation. "Of course, no +one, at my age, can be tired of the world, and for some things I wish to +live; but for others, I shall be glad to die." + +"Maude! Maude! It is wrong to say this. You are not likely to die." + +"I can't tell. All I say is, I shall be glad for some things, if I do." + +"What is all this?" he exclaimed, after a bewildered pause. "Is there +anything on your mind, Maude? Are you grieving after that little infant?" + +"No," she answered, "not for him. I grieve for the two who remain." + +Lord Hartledon looked at her. A dread, which he strove to throw from him, +struggling to his conscience. + +"I think you are deceived in my state of health. And if I object to going +to the seaside, it is chiefly because I would not die in a strange place. +If I am to die, I should like to die at Hartledon." + +His hair seemed to rise up in horror at the words. "Maude! have you any +disease you are concealing from me?" + +"Not any. But the belief has been upon me for some time that I should not +get over this. You must have seen how I appear to be sinking." + +"And with no disease upon you! I don't understand it." + +"No particular physical disease." + +"You are weak, dispirited--I cannot pursue these questions," he broke +off. "Tell me in a word: is there any cause for this?" + +"Yes." + +Percival gathered up his breath. "What is it?" + +"What is it!" her eyes ablaze with sudden light. "What has weighed _you_ +down, not to the grave, for men are strong, but to terror, and shame, and +sin? What secret is it, Lord Hartledon?" + +His lips were whitening. "But it--even allowing that I have a +secret--need not weigh you down." + +"Not weigh me down!--to terror deeper than yours; to shame more abject? +Suppose I know the secret?" + +"You cannot know it," he gasped. "It would have killed you." + +"And what _has_ it done? Look at me." + +"Oh, Maude!" he wailed, "what is it that you do, or do not know? How did +you learn anything about it?" + +"I learnt it through my own folly. I am sorry for it now. My knowing it +can make the fact neither better nor worse; and perhaps I might have been +spared the knowledge to the end." + +"But what is it that you know?" he asked, rather wishing at the moment he +was dead himself. + +"_All._" + +"It is impossible." + +"It is true." + +And he felt that it was true; here was the solution to the conduct which +had puzzled him, puzzled the doctors, puzzled the household and the +countess-dowager. + +"And how--and how?" he gasped. + +"When that stranger was here last, I heard what he said to you," she +replied, avowing the fact without shame in the moment's terrible anguish. +"I made the third at the interview." + +He looked at her in utter disbelief. + +"You refused to let me go down. I followed you, and stood at the little +door of the library. It was open, and I--heard--every word." + +The last words were spoken with an hysterical sobbing. "Oh, Maude!" broke +from the lips of Lord Hartledon. + +"You will reproach me for disobedience, of course; for meanness, perhaps; +but I _knew_ there was some awful secret, and you would not tell me. I +earned my punishment, if that will be any satisfaction to you; I have +never since enjoyed an instant's peace, night or day." + +He hid his face in his pain. This was the moment he had dreaded for +years; anything, so that it might be kept from her, he had prayed in his +never-ceasing fear. + +"Forgive, forgive me! Oh, Maude, forgive me!" + +She did not respond; she did not attempt to soothe him; if ever looks +expressed reproach and aversion, hers did then. + +"Have compassion upon me, Maude! I was more sinned against than sinning." + +"What compassion had you for me? How dared you marry me? you, bound with +crime?" + +"The worst is over, Maude; the worst is over." + +"It can never be over: you are guilty of wilful sophistry. The crime +remains; and--Lord Hartledon--its fruits remain." + +He interrupted her excited words by voice and gesture; he took her hands +in his. She snatched them from him, and burst into a fit of hysterical +crying, which ended in a faintness almost as of death. He did not dare to +call assistance; an unguarded word might have slipped out unawares. + +Shut them in; shut them in! they had need to be alone in a scene such as +that. + +Lord and Lady Hartledon went down to Calne, as she wished. But not +immediately; some two or three weeks elapsed, and during that time Mr. +Carr was a good deal with both of them. Their sole friend: the only man +cognizant of the trouble they had yet to battle with; who alone might +whisper a word of something like consolation. + +Lady Hartledon seemed to improve. Whether it was the country, or the sort +of patched-up peace that reigned between her and her husband, she grew +stronger and better, and began to go out again and enjoy life as usual. +But in saying life, it must not be thought that gaiety is implied; none +could shun that as Lady Hartledon now seemed to shun it. And he, for +the first time since his marriage, began to take some interest in his +native place, and in his own home. The old sensitive feeling in regard to +meeting the Ashtons lingered still; was almost as strong as ever; and he +had the good sense to see that this must be overcome, if possible, if he +made Hartledon his home for the future, as his wife now talked of doing. + +As a preliminary step to it, he appeared at church; one, two, three +Sundays. On the second Sunday his wife went with him. Anne was in her +pew, with her younger brother, but not Mrs. Ashton: she, as Lord +Hartledon knew by report, was too ill now to go out. Each day Dr. Ashton +did the whole duty; his curate, Mr. Graves, was taking a holiday. Lord +Hartledon heard another report, that the curate had been wanting to +press his attentions on Miss Ashton. The truth was, as none had known +better than Val Elster, Mr. Graves had wanted to press them years and +years ago. He had at length made her an offer, and she had angrily +refused him. A foolish girl! said indignant Mrs. Graves, reproachfully. +Her son was a model son, and would make a model husband; and he would +be a wealthy man, as Anne knew, for he must sooner or later come into the +entailed property of his uncle. It was not at all pleasant to Lord +Hartledon to stand there in his pew, with recollection upon him, and the +gaze of the Ashtons studiously turned from him, and Jabez Gum looking out +at him from the corners of his eyes as he made his sonorous responses. A +wish for reconciliation took strong possession of Lord Hartledon, and he +wondered whether he could not bring himself to sue for it. He wanted +besides to stay for the after-service, which he had not done since he was +a young man--never since his marriage. Maude had stayed occasionally, as +was the fashion; but he never. I beg you not to quarrel with me for the +word; some of the partakers in that after-service remain from no higher +motive. Certainly poor Maude had not. + +On the third Sunday, Lord Hartledon went to church in the evening--alone; +and when service was over he waited until the church had emptied itself, +and then made his way into the vestry. Jabez was passing out of it, and +the Rector was coming out behind him. Lord Hartledon stopped the latter, +and craved a minute's conversation. Dr. Ashton bowed rather stiffly, put +his hat down, and Jabez shut them in. + +"Is there any service you require of me?" inquired the Rector, coldly. + +It was the impulsive Val Elster of old days who answered; his hand held +out pleadingly, his ingenuous soul shining forth from his blue eyes. + +"Yes, there is, Doctor Ashton; I have come to pray for it--your +forgiveness." + +"My Christian forgiveness you have had already," returned the clergyman, +after a pause. + +"But I want something else. I want your pardon as a man; I want you to +look at me and speak to me as you used to do. I want to hear you call me +'Val' again; to take my hand in yours, and not coldly; in short, I want +you to help me to forgive myself." + +In that moment--and Dr. Ashton, minister of the gospel though he was, +could not have explained it--all the old love for Val Elster rose +bubbling in his heart. A stubborn heart withal, as all hearts are since +Adam sinned; he did not respond to the offered hand, nor did his features +relax their sternness in spite of the pleading look. + +"You must be aware, Lord Hartledon, that your conduct does not merit +pardon. As to friendship--which is what you ask for--it would be +incompatible with the distance you and I must observe towards each +other." + +"Why need we observe it--if you accord me your true forgiveness?" + +The question was one not easy to respond to candidly. The doctor could +not say, Your intercourse with us might still be dangerous to the peace +of one heart; and in his inner conviction he believed that it might be. +He only looked at Val; the yearning face, the tearful eyes; and in that +moment it occurred to the doctor that something more than the ordinary +wear and tear of life had worn the once smooth brow, brought streaks of +silver to the still luxuriant hair. + +"Do you know that you nearly killed her?" he asked, his voice softening. + +"I have known that it might be so. Had _any_ atonement lain in my power; +any means by which her grief might have been soothed; I would have gone +to the ends of the earth to accomplish it. I would even have died if it +could have done good. But, of all the world, I alone might attempt +nothing. For myself I have spent the years in misery; not on that score," +he hastened to add in his truth, and a thought crossed Dr. Ashton that he +must allude to unhappiness with his wife--"on another. If it will be any +consolation to know it--if you might accept it as even the faintest +shadow of atonement--I can truly say that few have gone through the care +that I have, and lived. Anne has been amply avenged." + +The Rector laid his hand on the slender fingers, hot with fever, whiter +than they ought to be, betraying life's inward care. He forgave him from +that moment; and forgiveness with Dr. Ashton meant the full meaning of +the word. + +"You were always your own enemy, Val." + +"Ay. Heaven alone knows the extent of my folly; and of my punishment." + +From that hour Lord Hartledon and the Rectory were not total strangers to +each other. He called there once in a way, rarely seeing any one but the +doctor; now and then Mrs. Ashton; by chance, Anne. Times and again was it +on Val's lips to confide to Dr. Ashton the nature of the sin upon his +conscience; but his innate sensitiveness, the shame it would reflect +upon him, stepped in and sealed the secret. + +Meanwhile, perhaps he and his wife had never lived on terms of truer +cordiality. _There were no secrets between them_: and let me tell you +that is one of the keys to happiness in married life. Whatever the past +had been, Lady Hartledon appeared to condone it; at least she no longer +openly resented it to her husband. It is just possible that a shadow of +the future, a prevision of the severing of the tie, very near now, might +have been unconsciously upon her, guiding her spirit to meekness, if not +yet quite to peace. Lord Hartledon thought she was growing strong; and, +save that she would rather often go into a passion of hysterical tears as +she clasped her children to her, particularly the boy, her days passed +calmly enough. She indulged the children beyond all reason, and it was of +no use for their father to interfere. Once when he stepped in to prevent +it, she flew out almost like a tigress, asking what business it was of +his, that he should dare to come between her and them. The lesson was an +effectual one; and he never interfered again. But the indulgence was +telling on the boy's naturally haughty disposition; and not for good. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +IN THE PARK. + + +As the days and weeks went on, and Lord and Lady Hartledon continued at +Calne, there was one circumstance that began to impress itself on the +mind of the former in a careless sort of way--that he was constantly +meeting Pike. Go out when he would, he was sure to see Pike in some +out-of-the-way spot; at a sudden turning, or peering forth from under +a group of trees, or watching him from a roadside bank. One special day +impressed itself on Lord Hartledon's memory. He was walking slowly along +the road with Dr. Ashton, and found Pike keeping pace with them softly on +the other side the hedge, listening no doubt to what he could hear. On +one of these occasions Val stopped and confronted him. + +"What is it you want, Mr. Pike?" + +Perhaps Mr. Pike was about the last man in the world to be, as the saying +runs, "taken aback," and he stood his ground, and boldly answered +"Nothing." + +"It seems as though you did," said Val. "Go where I will, you are sure to +spring up before me, or to be peeping from some ambush as I walk along. +It will not do: do you understand?" + +"I was just thinking the same thing yesterday--that your lordship was +always meeting _me_," said Pike. "No offence on either side, I dare say." + +Val walked on, throwing the man a significant look of warning, but +vouchsafing no other reply. After that Pike was a little more cautious, +and kept aloof for a time; but Val knew that he was still watched on +occasion. + +One fine October day, when the grain had been gathered in and the fields +were bare with stubble, Hartledon, alone in one of the front rooms, heard +a contest going on outside. Throwing up the window, he saw his young son +attempting to mount the groom's pony: the latter objecting. At the door +stood a low basket carriage, harnessed with the fellow pony. They +belonged to Lady Hartledon; sometimes she drove only one; and the groom, +a young lad of fourteen, light and slim, rode the other: sometimes both +ponies were in the carriage; and on those occasions the boy sat by her +side, and drove. + +"What's the matter, Edward?" called out Lord Hartledon to his son. + +"Young lordship wants to ride the pony, my lord," said the groom. "My +lady ordered me to ride it." + +At this juncture Lady Hartledon appeared on the scene, ready for her +drive. She had intended to take her little son with her--as she generally +did--but the child boisterously demanded that he should ride the pony for +once, and she weakly yielded. Lord Hartledon's private opinion, looking +on, was that she was literally incapable of denying him any earthly thing +he chose to demand. He went out. + +"He had better go with you in the carriage, Maude." + +"Not at all. He sits very well now, and the pony's perfectly quiet." + +"But he is too young to ride by the side of any vehicle. It is not safe. +Let him sit with you as usual." + +"Nonsense! Edward, you shall ride the pony. Help him up, Ralph." + +"No, Maude. He--" + +"Be quiet!" said Lady Hartledon, bending towards her husband and speaking +in low tones. "It is not for you to interfere. Would you deny him +everything?" + +A strangely bitter expression sat on Val's lips. Not of anger; not even +mortification, but sad, cruel pain. He said no more. + +And the cavalcade started. Lady Hartledon driving, the boy-groom sitting +beside her, and Eddie's short legs striding the pony. They were keeping +to the Park, she called to her husband, and she should drive slowly. + +There was no real danger, as Val believed; only he did not like the +child's wilful temper given way to. With a deep sigh he turned indoors +for his hat, and went strolling down the avenue. Mrs. Capper dropped a +curtsey as he passed the lodge. + +"Have you heard from your son yet?" he asked. + +"Yes, my lord, many thanks to you. The school suits him bravely." + +Turning out of the gates, he saw Floyd, the miller, walking slowly along. +The man had been confined to his bed for weeks in the summer, with an +attack of acute rheumatism, and to the house afterwards. It was the first +time they had met since that morning long ago, when the miller brought up +the purse. Lord Hartledon did not know him at first, he was so altered; +pale and reduced. + +"Is it really you, Floyd?" + +"What's left of me, my lord." + +"And that's not much; but I am glad to see you so far well," said +Hartledon, in his usual kindly tone. "I have heard reports of you from +Mr. Hillary." + +"Your lordship's altered too." + +"Am I?" + +"Well, it seems so to me. But it's some few years now since I saw you. +Nothing has ever come to light about that pocket-book, my lord." + +"I conclude not, or I should have heard of it." + +"And your lordship never came down to see the place!" + +"No. I left Hartledon the same day, I think, or the next. After all, +Floyd, I don't see that it is of any use looking into these painful +things: it cannot bring the dead to life again." + +"That's, true," said the miller. + +He was walking into Calne. Lord Hartledon kept by his side, talking to +him. He promised to be as popular a man as his father had been; and that +was saying a great deal. When they came opposite the Rectory, Lord +Hartledon wished him good day and more strength, in his genial manner, +and turned in at the Rectory gates. + +About once a week he was in the habit of calling upon Mrs. Ashton. Peace +was between them; and these visits to her sick-chamber were strangely +welcome to her heart. She had loved Val Elster all her life, and she +loved him still, in spite of the past. For Val was curiously subdued; and +his present mood, sad, quiet, thoughtful, was more endearing than his +gayer one had been. Mrs. Ashton did not fail to read that he was a +disappointed man, one with some constant care upon him. + +Anne was in the hall when he entered, talking to a poor applicant who was +waiting to see the Rector. Lord Hartledon lifted his hat to her, but did +not offer to shake hands. He had never presumed to touch her hand since +the reconciliation; in fact, he scarcely ever saw her. + +"How is Mrs. Ashton to-day?" + +"A little better, I think. She will be glad to see you." + +He followed the servant upstairs, and Anne turned to the woman again. +Mrs. Ashton was in an easy-chair near the window; he drew one close to +her. + +"You are looking wonderful to-day, do you know?" he began in tones almost +as gay as those of the light-hearted Val Elster. "What is it? That very +becoming cap?" + +"The cap, of course. Don't you see its pink ribbons? Your favourite +colour used to be pink, Val. Do you remember?" + +"I remember everything. But indeed and in truth you look better, dear +Mrs. Ashton." + +"Yes, better to-day," she said, with a sigh. "I shall fluctuate to the +end, I suppose; one day better, the next worse. Val, I think sometimes +it is not far off now." + +Very far off he knew it could not be. But he spoke of hope still: it was +in his nature to do so. In the depths of his heart, so hidden from the +world, there seemed to be hope for the whole living creation, himself +excepted. + +"How is your wife to-day?" + +"Quite well. She and Edward are out with the ponies and carriage." + +"She never comes to see me." + +"She does not go to see anyone. Though well, she's not very strong yet." + +"But she's young, and will grow strong. I shall only grow weaker. I am +brave to-day; but you should have seen me last night. So prostrate! I +almost doubted whether I should rise from my bed again. I do not think +you will have to come here many more times." + +"Oh, Mrs. Ashton!" + +"A little sooner or a little later, what does it matter, I try to ask +myself; but parting is parting, and my heart aches sometimes. One of my +aches will be leaving you." + +"A very minor one then," he said, with deprecation; but tears shone in +his dark blue eyes. + +"Not a minor one. I have loved you as a son. I never loved you more, +Percival, than when that letter of yours came to me at Cannes." + +It was the first time she had alluded to it: the letter written the +evening of his marriage. Val's face turned red, for his perfidy rose up +before him in its full extent of shame. + +"I don't care to speak of that," he whispered. "If you only knew what my +humiliation has been!" + +"Not of that, no; I don't know why I mentioned it. But I want you to +speak of something else, Val. Over and over again has it been on my lips +to ask it. What secret trouble is weighing you down?" + +A far greater change, than the one called up by recollection and its +shame, came over his face now. He did not speak; and Mrs. Ashton +continued. She held his hands as he bent towards her. + +"I have seen it all along. At first--I don't mind confessing it--I took +it for granted that you were on bad terms with yourself on account of the +past. I feared there was something wrong between you and your wife, and +that you were regretting Anne. But I soon put that idea from me, to +replace it with a graver one." + +"What graver one?" he asked. + +"Nay, I know not. I want you to tell me. Will you do so?" + +He shook his head with an unmistakable gesture, unconsciously pressing +her hands to pain. + +"Why not?" + +"You have just said I am dear to you," he whispered; "I believe I am so." + +"As dear, almost, as my own children." + +"Then do not even wish to know it. It is an awful secret; and I must bear +it without sympathy of any sort, alone and in silence. It has been upon +me for some years now, taking the sweetness out of my daily bread; and it +will, I suppose, go with me to my grave. Not scarcely to lift it off my +shoulders, would I impart it to _you_." + +She sighed deeply; and thought it must be connected with some of his +youthful follies. But she loved him still; she had faith in him; she +believed that he went wrong from misfortune more than from fault. + +"Courage, Val," she whispered. "There is a better world than this, +where sorrow and sighing cannot enter. Patience--and hope--and trust in +God!--always bearing onwards. In time we shall attain to it." + +Lord Hartledon gently drew his hands away, and turned to the window for a +moment's respite. His eyes were greeted with the sight of one of his own +servants, approaching the Rectory at full speed, some half-dozen idlers +behind him. + +With a prevision that something was wrong, he said a word of adieu to +Mrs. Ashton, went down, and met the man outside. Dr. Ashton, who had seen +the approach, also hurried out. + +There had been some accident in the Park, the man said. The pony had +swerved and thrown little Lord Elster: thrown him right under the other +pony's feet, as it seemed. The servant made rather a bungle over his +news, but this was its substance. + +"And the result? Is he much hurt?" asked Lord Hartledon, constraining his +voice to calmness. + +"Well, no; not hurt at all, my lord. He was up again soon, saying he'd +lash the pony for throwing him. He don't seem hurt a bit." + +"Then why need you have alarmed us so?" interrupted Dr. Ashton, +reprovingly. + +"Well, sir, it's her ladyship seems hurt--or something," cried the man. + +Lord Hartledon looked at him. + +"What have you come to tell, Richard? Speak out." + +Apparently Richard could not speak out. His lady had been frightened and +fainted, and did not come to again. And Lord Hartledon waited to hear no +more. + +The people, standing about in the park here and there--for even this +slight accident had gathered its idlers together--seemed to look at Lord +Hartledon curiously as he passed them. Close to the house he met Ralph +the groom. The boy was crying. + +"'Twasn't no fault of anybody's, my lord; and there ain't any damage to +the ponies," he began, hastening to excuse himself. "The little lord only +slid off, and they stood as quiet as quiet. There wasn't no cause for my +lady's fear." + +"Is she fainting still?" + +"They say she's--dead." + +Lord Hartledon pressed onwards, and met Mr. Hillary at the hall-door. The +surgeon took his arm and drew him into an empty room. + +"Hillary! is it true?" + +"I'm afraid it is." + +Lord Hartledon felt his sight failing. For a moment he was a man groping +in the dark. Steadying himself against the wall, he learned the details. + +The child's pony had swerved. Ralph could not tell at what, and Lady +Hartledon did not survive to tell. She was looking at him at the time, +and saw him flung under the feet of the other pony, and she rose up in +the carriage with a scream, and then fell back into the seat again. Ralph +jumped out and picked up the child, who was not hurt at all; but when he +hastened to tell her this, he saw that she seemed to have no life in her. +One of the servants, Richard, happened to be going through the Park, +within sight; others soon came up; and whilst Lady Hartledon was being +driven home Richard ran for Mr. Hillary, and then sought his master, whom +he found at the Rectory. The surgeon had found her dead. + +"It must have been instantaneous," he observed in low tones as he +concluded these particulars. "One great consolation is, that she was +spared all suffering." + +"And its cause?" breathed Lord Hartledon. + +"The heart. I don't entertain the least doubt about it." + +"You said she had no heart disease. Others said it." + +"I said, if she had it, it was not developed. Sudden death from it is not +at all uncommon where disease has never been suspected." + +And this was all the conclusion come to in the case of Lady Hartledon. +Examination proved the surgeon's surmise to be correct; and in answer to +a certain question put by Lord Hartledon, he said the death was entirely +irrespective of any trouble, or care, or annoyance she might have had in +the past; irrespective even of any shock, except the shock at the moment +of death, caused by seeing the child thrown. That, and that alone, had +been the fatal cause. Lord Hartledon listened to this, and went away to +his lonely chamber and fell on his knees in devout thankfulness to Heaven +that he was so far innocent. + +"If she had not given way to the child!" he bitterly aspirated in the +first moments of sorrow. + +That the countess-dowager should come down post-haste and invade +Hartledon, was of course only natural; and Lord Hartledon strove not to +rebel against it. But she made herself so intensely and disagreeably +officious that his patience was sorely tried. Her first act was to insist +on a stately funeral. He had given orders for one plain and quiet in +every way; but she would have her wish carried out, and raved about the +house, abusing him for his meanness and want of respect to his dead wife. +For peace' sake, he was fain to give her her way; and the funeral was +made as costly as she pleased. Thomas Carr came down to it; and the +countess-dowager was barely civil to him. + +Her next care was to assume the entire management of the two children, +putting Lord Hartledon's authority over them at virtual, if not actual, +defiance. The death of her daughter was in truth a severe blow to the +dowager; not from love, for she really possessed no natural affection at +all, but from fear that she should lose her footing in the house which +was so desirable a refuge. As a preliminary step against this, she began +to endeavour to make it more firm and secure. Altogether she was +rendering Hartledon unbearable; and Val would often escape from it, +his boy in his hand, and take refuge with Mrs. Ashton. + +That Lord Hartledon's love for his children was intense there could be no +question about; but it was nevertheless of a peculiarly reticent nature. +He had rarely, if ever, been seen to caress them. The boy told tales of +how papa would kiss him, even weep over him, in solitude; but he would +not give him so much as an endearing name in the presence of others. Poor +Maude had called him all the pet names in a fond mother's vocabulary; +Lord Hartledon always called him Edward, and nothing more. + +A few evenings after the funeral had taken place, Mirrable, who had been +into Calne, was hurrying back in the twilight. As she passed Jabez Gum's +gate, the clerk's wife was standing at it, talking to Mrs. Jones. The two +were laughing: Mrs. Gum seemed in a less depressed state than usual, and +the other less snappish. + +"Is it you!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, as Mirrable stopped. "I was just +saying I'd not set eyes on you in your new mourning." + +"And laughing over it," returned Mirrable. + +"No!" was Mrs. Jones's retort. "I'd been telling of a trick I served +Jones, and Nance was laughing at that. Silk and crepe! It's fine to be +you, Mrs. Mirrable!" + +"How's Jabez, Nancy?" asked Mirrable, passing over Mrs. Jones's +criticism. + +"He's gone to Garchester," replied Mrs. Gum, who was given to indirect +answers. "I thought I was never going to see you again, Mary." + +"You could not expect to see me whilst the house was in its recent +state," answered Mirrable. "We have been in a bustle, as you may +suppose." + +"You've not had many staying there." + +"Only Mr. Carr; and he left to-day. We've got the old countess-dowager +still." + +"And likely to have her, if all's true that's said," put in Mrs. Jones. + +Mirrable tacitly admitted the probability. Her private opinion was that +nothing short of a miracle could ever remove the Dowager Kirton from the +house again. Had any one told Mirrable, as she stood there, that her +ladyship would be leaving of her own accord that night, she had simply +said it was impossible. + +"Mary," cried the weak voice of poor timid Mrs. Gum, "how was it none of +the brothers came to the funeral? Jabez was wondering. She had a lot, +I've heard." + +"It was not convenient to them, I suppose," replied Mirrable. "The one +in the Isle of Wight had gone cruising in somebody's yacht, or he'd have +come with the dowager; and Lord Kirton telegraphed from Ireland that he +was prevented coming. I know nothing about the rest." + +"It was an awful death!" shivered Mrs. Gum. "And without cause too; for +the child was not hurt after all. Isn't my lord dreadfully cut up, Mary?" + +"I think so; he's very quiet and subdued. But he has seemed full of +sorrow for a long while, as if he had some dreadful care upon him. I +don't think he and his wife were very happy together," added Mirrable. +"My lord's likely to make Hartledon his chief residence now, I fancy, +for--My gracious! what's that?" + +A crash as if a whole battery of crockery had come down inside the +house. A moment of staring consternation ensued, and nervous Mrs. Gum +looked ready to faint. The two women disappeared indoors, and Mirrable +turned homewards at a brisk pace. But she was not to go on without an +interruption. Pike's head suddenly appeared above the hurdles, and he +began inquiring after her health. "Toothache gone?" asked he. + +"Yes," she said, answering straightforwardly in her surprise. "How did +you know I had toothache?" It was not the first time by several he had +thus accosted her; and to give her her due, she was always civil to him. +Perhaps she feared to be otherwise. + +"I heard of it. And so my Lord Hartledon's like a man with some dreadful +care upon him!" he went on. "What is the care?" + +"You have been eavesdropping!" she angrily exclaimed. + +"Not a bit of it. I was seated under the hedge with my pipe, and you +three women began talking. I didn't tell you to. Well, what's his +lordship's care?" + +"Just mind your own business, and his lordship will mind his," she +retorted. "You'll get interfered with in a way you won't like, Pike, one +of these days, unless you mend your manners." + +"A great care on him," nodded Pike to himself, looking after her, as she +walked off in her anger. "A great care! _I_ know. One of these fine days, +my lord, I may be asking you questions about it on my own score. I might +long before this, but for--" + +The sentence broke off abruptly, and ended with a growl at things in +general. Mr. Pike was evidently not in a genial mood. + +Mirrable reached home to find the countess-dowager in a state more easily +imagined than described. Some sprite, favourable to the peace of +Hartledon, had been writing confidentially from Ireland regarding Kirton +and his doings. That her eldest son was about to steal a march on her and +marry again seemed almost indisputably clear; and the miserable dowager, +dancing her war-dance and uttering reproaches, was repacking her boxes in +haste. Those boxes, which she had fondly hoped would never again leave +Hartledon, unless it might be for sojourns in Park Lane! She was going +back to Ireland to mount guard, and prevent any such escapade. Only in +September had she quitted him--and then had been as nearly ejected as a +son could eject his mother with any decency--and had taken the Isle of +Wight on her way to Hartledon. The son who lived in the Isle of Wight +had espoused a widow twice his own age, with eleven hundred a year, and a +house and carriage; so that he had a home: which the countess-dowager +sometimes remembered. + +Lord Hartledon was liberal. He gave her a handsome sum for her journey, +and a cheque besides; most devoutly praying that she might keep guard +over Kirton for ever. He escorted her to the station himself in a closed +carriage, an omnibus having gone before them with a mountain of boxes, +at which all Calne came out to stare. + +And the same week, confiding his children to the joint care of Mirrable +and their nurse--an efficient, kind, and judicious woman--Lord Hartledon +departed from home and England for a sojourn on the Continent, long or +short, as inclination might lead him, feeling as a bird released from +its cage. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +COMING HOME. + + +Some eighteen months after the event recorded in the last chapter, a +travelling carriage dashed up to a house in Park Lane one wet evening +in spring. It contained Lord Hartledon and his second wife. They were +expected, and the servants were assembled in the hall. + +Lord Hartledon led her into their midst, proudly, affectionately; as he +had never in his life led any other. Ah, you need not ask who she was; he +had contrived to win her, to win over Dr. Ashton; and his heart had at +length found rest. Her fair countenance, her thoughtful eyes and sweet +smile were turned on the servants, thanking them for their greeting. + +"All well, Hedges?" asked Lord Hartledon. + +"Quite well, my lord. But we are not alone." + +"No!" said Val, stopping in his progress. "Who's here?" + +"The Countess-Dowager of Kirton, my lord," replied Hedges, glancing at +Lady Hartledon in momentary hesitation. + +"Oh, indeed!" said Val, as if not enjoying the information. "Just see, +Hedges, that the things inside the carriage are all taken out. Don't come +up, Mrs. Ball; I will take Lady Hartledon to her rooms." + +It was the light-hearted Val of the old, old days; his face free from +care, his voice gay. He did not turn into any of the reception-rooms, but +led his wife at once to her chamber. It was nearly dinner-time, and he +knew she was tired. + +"Welcome home, my darling!" he whispered tenderly ere releasing her. "A +thousand welcomes to you, my dear, dear wife!" + +Tears rose to his eyes with the fervour of the wish. Heaven alone knew +what the past had been; the contrast between that time and this. + +"I will dress at once, Percival," she said, after a few moments' pause. +"I must see your children before dinner. Heaven helping me, I shall love +them and always act by them as if they were my own." + +"I am so sorry she is here, Anne--that terrible old woman. You heard +Hedges say Lady Kirton had arrived. Her visit is ill-timed." + +"I shall be glad to welcome her, Val." + +"It is more than I shall be," replied Val, as his wife's maid came into +the room, and he quitted it. "I'll bring the children to you, Anne." + +They had been married nearly five weeks. Anne had not seen the children +for several months. The little child, Edward, had shown symptoms of +delicacy, and for nearly a year the children had sojourned at the +seaside, having been brought to the town-house just before their father's +marriage. + +The nursery was empty, and Lord Hartledon went down. In the passage +outside the drawing-room was Hedges, evidently waiting for his master, +and with a budget to unfold. + +"When did she come, Hedges?" + +"My lord, it was only a few days after your marriage," replied Hedges. +"She arrived in the most outrageous tantrum--if I shall not offend your +lordship by saying so--and has been here ever since, completely upsetting +everything." + +"What was her tantrum about?" + +"On account of your having married again, my lord. She stood in the hall +for five minutes when she got here, saying the most audacious things +against your lordship and Miss Ashton--I mean my lady," corrected Hedges. + +"The old hag!" muttered Lord Hartledon. + +"I think she's insane at times, my lord; I really do. The fits of passion +she flies into are quite bad enough for insanity. The housekeeper told me +this morning she feared she would be capable of striking my lady, when +she first saw her. I'm afraid, too, she has been schooling the children." + +Lord Hartledon strode into the drawing-room. There, as large as +life--and a great deal larger than most lives--was the dowager-countess. +Fortunately she had not heard the arrival: in fact, she had dropped into +a doze whilst waiting for it; and she started up when Val entered. + +"How are you, ma'am?" asked he. "You have taken me by surprise." + +"Not half as much as your wicked letter took me," screamed the old +dowager. "Oh, you vile man! to marry again in this haste! You--you--I +can't find words that I should not be ashamed of; but Hamlet's mother, in +the play, was nothing to it." + +"It is some time since I read the play," returned Hartledon, controlling +his temper under an assumption of indifference. "If my memory serves me, +the 'funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage table.' +_My_ late wife has been dead eighteen months, Lady Kirton." + +"Eighteen months! for such a wife as Maude was to you!" raved the +dowager. "You ought to have mourned her eighteen years. Anybody else +would. I wish I had never let you have her." + +Lord Hartledon wished it likewise, with all his heart and soul; had +wished it in his wife's lifetime. + +"Lady Kirton, listen to me! Let us understand each other. Your visit here +is ill-timed; you ought to feel it so; nevertheless, if you stay it out, +you must observe good manners. I shall be compelled to request you to +terminate it if you fail one iota in the respect due to this house's +mistress, my beloved and honoured wife." + +"Your _beloved_ wife! Do you dare to say it to me?" + +"Ay; beloved, honoured and respected as no woman has ever been by me yet, +or ever will be again," he replied, speaking too plainly in his warmth. + +"What a false-hearted monster!" cried the dowager, shrilly, +apostrophizing the walls and the mirrors. "What then was Maude?" + +"Maude is gone, and I counsel you not to bring up her name to me," said +Val, sternly. "Your treachery forced Maude upon me; and let me tell you +now, Lady Kirton, if I have never told you before, that it wrought upon +her the most bitter wrong possible to be inflicted; which she lived to +learn. I was a vacillating simpleton, and you held me in your trammels. +The less we rake up old matters the better. Things have altered. I am +altered. The moral courage I once lacked does not fail me now; and I have +at least sufficient to hold my own against the world, and protect from +insult the lady I have made my wife. I beg your pardon if my words seem +harsh; they are true; and I am sorry you have forced them from me." + +She was standing still for a moment, staring at him, not altogether +certain of her ground. + +"Where are the children?" he asked. + +"Where you can't get at them," she rejoined hotly. "You have your beloved +wife; you don't want them." + +He rang the bell, more loudly than he need have done; but his usually +sweet temper was provoked. A footman came in. + +"Tell the nurse to bring down the children." + +"They are not at home, my lord." + +"Not at home! Surely they are not out in this rain!--and so late!" + +"They went out this afternoon, my lord: and have not come in, I believe." + +"There, that will do," tartly interposed the dowager. "You don't know +anything about it, and you may go." + +"Lady Kirton, where are the children?" + +"Where you can't get at them, I say," was Lady Kirton's response. "You +don't think I am going to suffer Maude's children to be domineered over +by a wretch of a step-mother--perhaps poisoned." + +He confronted her in his wrath, his eyes flashing. + +"Madam!" + +"Oh, you need not 'Madam' me. Maude's gone, and I shall act for her." + +"I ask you where my children are?" + +"I have sent them away; you may make the most of the information. And +when I have remained here as long as I choose, I shall take them with me, +and keep them, and bring them up. You can at once decide what sum you +will allow me for their education and maintenance: two maids, a tutor, +a governess, clothes, toys, and pocket-money. It must be a handsome sum, +paid quarterly in advance. And I mean to take a house in London for their +accommodation, and shall expect you to pay the rent." + +The coolness with which this was delivered turned Val's angry feelings +into amusement. He could not help laughing as he looked at her. + +"You cannot have my children, Lady Kirton." + +"They are Maude's children," snapped the dowager. + +"But I presume you admit that they are likewise mine. And I shall +certainly not part with them." + +"If you oppose me in this, I'll put them into Chancery," cried the +dowager. "I am their nearest relative, and have a right to them." + +"Nearest relative!" he repeated. "You must have lost your senses. I am +their father." + +"And have you lived to see thirty, and never learnt that men don't count +for anything in the bringing up of infants?" shrilly asked the dowager. +"If they had ten fathers, what's that to the Lord Chancellor? No more +than ten blocks of wood. What they want is a mother." + +"And I have now given them one." + +Without another word, with the red flush of emotion on his cheek, he went +up to his wife's room. She was alone then, dressed, and just coming out +of it. He put his arm round her to draw her in again, as he shortly +explained the annoyance their visitor was causing him. + +"You must stay here, my dearest, until I can go down with you," he added. +"She is in a vile humour, and I do not choose that you should encounter +her, unprotected by me." + +"But where are you going, Val?" + +"Well, I really think I shall get a policeman in, and frighten her into +saying what she has done with the children. She'll never tell unless +forced into it." + +Anne laughed, and Hartledon went down. He had in good truth a great mind +to see what the effect would be. The old woman was not a reasonable +being, and he felt disposed to show her very little consideration. As he +stood at the hall-door gazing forth, who should arrive but Thomas Carr. +Not altogether by accident; he had come up exploring, to see if there +were any signs of Val's return. + +"Ah! home at last, Hartledon!" + +"Carr, what happy wind blew you hither?" cried Val, as he grasped the +hands of his trusty friend. "You can terrify this woman with the thunders +of the law if she persists in kidnapping children that don't belong to +her." And he forthwith explained the state of affairs. + +Mr. Carr laughed. + +"She will not keep them away long. She is no fool, that countess-dowager. +It is a ruse, no doubt, to induce you to give them up to her." + +"Give them up to her, indeed!" Val was beginning, when Hedges advanced to +him. + +"Mrs. Ball says the children have only gone to Madame Tussaud's, my +lord," quoth he. "The nurse told her so when she went out." + +"I wish she was herself one of Madame Tussaud's figure-heads!" cried Val. +"Mr. Carr dines here, Hedges. Nonsense, Carr; you can't refuse. Never +mind your coat; Anne won't mind. I want you to make acquaintance with +her." + +"How did you contrive to win over Dr. Ashton?" asked Thomas Carr, as he +went in. + +"I put the matter before him in its true light," answered Val, "asking +him whether, if Anne forgave me, he would condemn us to live out our +lives apart from each other: or whether he would not act the part of a +good Christian, and give her to me, that I might strive to atone for the +past." + +"And he did so?" + +"After a great deal of trouble. There's no time to give you details. I +had a powerful advocate in Anne's heart. She had never forgotten me, for +all my misconduct." + +"You have been a lucky man at last, taking one thing with another." + +"You may well say so," was the answer, in tones of deep feeling. +"Moments come over me when I fear I am about to awake and find the +present a dream. I am only now beginning to _live_. The past few years +have been--you know what, Carr." + +He sent the barrister into the drawing room, went upstairs for Anne, and +brought her in on his arm. The dowager was in her chamber, attiring +herself in haste. + +"My wife, Carr," said Hartledon, with a loving emphasis on the word. +She was in an evening dress of white and black, not having yet put off +mourning for Mrs. Ashton, and looked very lovely; far more lovely in +Thomas Carr's eyes than Lady Maude, with her dark beauty, had ever +looked. She held out her hand to him with a frank smile. + +"I have heard so much of you, Mr. Carr, that we seem like old friends. +I am glad you have come to see me so soon." + +"My being here this evening is an accident, Lady Hartledon, as you may +see by my dress," he returned. "I ought rather to apologize for intruding +on you in the hour of your arrival." + +"Don't talk about intrusion," said Val. "You will never be an intruder in +my house--and Anne's smile is telling you the same--" + +"Who's that, pray?" + +The interruption came from the countess-dowager. There she stood, near +the door, in a yellow gown and green turban. Val drew himself up and +approached her, his wife still on his arm. "Madam," said he, in reply to +her question, "this is my wife, Lady Hartledon." + +The dowager's gauzes made acquaintance with the carpet in so elaborate +a curtsey as to savour of mockery, but her eyes were turned up to the +ceiling; not a word or look gave she to the young lady. + +"The other one, I meant," cried she, nodding towards Thomas Carr. + +"It is my friend Mr. Carr. You appear to have forgotten him." + +"I hope you are well, ma'am," said he, advancing towards her. + +Another curtsey, and the countess-dowager fanned herself, and sailed +towards the fireplace. + +Meanwhile the children came home in a cab from Madame Tussaud's, and +dinner was announced. Lord Hartledon was obliged to take down the +countess-dowager, resigning his wife to Mr. Carr. Dinner passed off +pretty well, the dowager being too fully occupied to be annoying; also +the good cheer caused her temper to thaw a little. Afterwards, the +children came in; Edward, a bold, free boy of five, who walked straight +up to his grandmother, saluting no one; and Maude, a timid, delicate +little child, who stood still in the middle of the carpet where the maid +placed her. + +The dowager was just then too busy to pay attention to the children, but +Anne held out her hand with a smile. Upon which the child drew up to her +father, and hid her face in his coat. + +He took her up, and carried her to his wife, placing her upon her knee. +"Maude," he whispered, "this is your mamma, and you must love her very +much, for she loves you." + +Anne's arms fondly encircled the child; but she began to struggle to get +down. + +"Bad manners, Maude," said her father. + +"She's afraid of her," spoke up the boy, who had the dark eyes and +beautiful features of his late mother. "We are afraid of bad people." + +The observation passed momentarily unnoticed, for Maude, whom Lady +Hartledon had been obliged to release, would not be pacified. But when +calmness ensued, Lord Hartledon turned to the boy, just then assisting +himself to some pineapple. + +"What did I hear you say about bad people, Edward?" + +"She," answered the boy, pointing towards Lady Hartledon. "She shan't +touch Maude. She's come here to beat us, and I'll kick if she touches +me." + +Lord Hartledon, with an unmistakable look at the countess-dowager, rose +from his seat in silence and rang the bell. There could be no correction +in the presence of the dowager; he and Anne must undo her work alone. +Carrying the little girl in one arm, he took the boy's hand, and met the +servant at the door. + +"Take these children back to the nursery." + +"I want some strawberries," the boy called out rebelliously. + +"Not to-day," said his father. "You know quite well that you have behaved +badly." + +His wife's face was painfully flushed. Mr. Carr was critically examining +the painted landscape on his plate; and the turban was enjoying some +fruit with perfect unconcern. Lord Hartledon stood an instant ere he +resumed his seat. + +"Anne," he said in a voice that trembled in spite of its displeased +tones, "allow me to beg your pardon, and I do it with shame that this +gratuitous insult should have been offered you in your own house. A day +or two will, I hope, put matters on their right footing; the poor +children, as you see, have been tutored." + +"Are you going to keep the port by you all night, Hartledon?" + +Need you ask from whom came the interruption? Mr. Carr passed it across +to her, leaving her to help herself; and Lord Hartledon sat down, biting +his delicate lips. + +When the dowager seemed to have finished, Anne rose. Mr. Carr rose too as +soon as they had retired. + +"I have an engagement, Hartledon, and am obliged to run away. Make my +adieu to your wife." + +"Carr, is it not a crying shame?--enough to incense any man?" + +"It is. The sooner you get rid of her the better." + +"That's easier said than done." + +When Lord Hartledon reached the drawing-room, the dowager was sleeping +comfortably. Looking about for his wife, he found her in the small room +Maude used to make exclusively her own, which was not lighted up. She was +standing at the window, and her tears were quietly falling. He drew her +face to his own. + +"My darling, don't let it grieve you! We shall soon right it all." + +"Oh, Percival, if the mischief should have gone too far!--if they should +never look upon me except as a step-mother! You don't know how sick and +troubled this has made me feel! I wanted to go to them in the nursery +when I came up, and did not dare! Perhaps the nurse has also been +prejudiced against me!" + +"Come up with me now, love," he whispered. + +They went silently upstairs, and found the children were then in bed and +asleep. They were tired with sight-seeing, the nurse said apologetically, +curtseying to her new mistress. + +The nurse withdrew, and they stood over the nursery fire, talking. Anne +could scarcely account for the extreme depression the event seemed to +have thrown upon her. Lord Hartledon quickly recovered his spirits, +vowing he should like to "serve out" the dowager. + +"I was thankful for one thing, Val; that you did not betray anger to +them, poor little things. It would have made it worse." + +"I was on the point of betraying something more than anger to Edward; but +the thought that I should be punishing him for another's fault checked +me. I wonder how we can get rid of her?" + +"We must strive to please her while she stays." + +"Please her!" he echoed. "Anne, my dear, that is stretching Christian +charity rather too far." + +Anne smiled. "I am a clergyman's daughter, you know, Val." + +"If she is wise, she'll abstain from offending you in my presence. I'm +not sure but I should lose command of myself, and send her off there and +then." + +"I don't fear that. She was quite civil when we came up from dinner, +and--" + +"As she generally is then. She takes her share of wine." + +"And asked me if I would excuse her falling into a doze, for she never +felt well without it." + +Anne was right. The cunning old woman changed her tactics, finding those +she had started would not answer. It has been remarked before, if you +remember, that she knew particularly well on which side her bread was +buttered. Nothing could exceed her graciousness from that evening. The +past scene might have been a dream, for all traces that remained of it. +Out of the house she was determined not to go in anger; it was too +desirable a refuge for that. And on the following day, upon hearing +Edward attempt some impudent speech to his new mother, she put him across +her knee, pulled off an old slipper she was wearing, and gave him a +whipping. Anne interposed, the boy roared; but the good woman had +her way. + +"Don't put yourself out, dear Lady Hartledon. There's nothing so good +for them as a wholesome whipping. I used to try it on my own children +at times." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +MR. PIKE ON THE WING. + + +The time went on. It may have been some twelve or thirteen months later +that Mr. Carr, sitting alone in his chambers, one evening, was surprised +by the entrance of his clerk--who possessed a latch-key as well as +himself. + +"Why, Taylor! what brings you here?" + +"I thought you would most likely be in, sir," replied the clerk. "Do +you remember some few years ago making inquiries about a man named +Gorton--and you could not find him?" + +"And never have found him," was Mr. Carr's comment. "Well?" + +"I have seen him this evening. He is back in London." + +Thomas Carr was not a man to be startlingly affected by any +communication; nevertheless he felt the importance of this, for Lord +Hartledon's sake. + +"I met him by chance, in a place where I sometimes go of an evening to +smoke a cigar, and learned his name by accident," continued Mr. Taylor. +"It's the same man that was at Kedge and Reck's, George Gorton; he +acknowledged it at once, quite readily." + +"And where has he been hiding himself?" + +"He has been in Australia for several years, he says; went there directly +after he left Kedge and Reck's that autumn." + +"Could you get him here, Taylor? I must see him. Tell me: what coloured +hair has he?" + +"Red, sir; and plenty of it. He says he's doing very well over there, +and has only come home for a short change. He does not seem to be in +concealment, and gave me his address when I asked him for it." + +According to Mr. Carr's wish, the man Gorton was brought to his chambers +the following morning by Taylor. To the barrister's surprise, a +well-dressed and really rather gentlemanly man entered. He had been +accustomed to picturing this Gorton as an Arab of London life. Casting +a keen glance at the red hair, he saw it was indisputably his own. + +A few rapid questions, which Gorton answered without the slightest demur, +and Mr. Carr leaned back in his chair, knowing that all the trouble he +had been at to find this man might have been spared: for he was not the +George Gordon they had suspected. But Mr. Carr was cautious, and betrayed +nothing. + +"I am sorry to have troubled you," he said. "When I inquired for you of +Kedge and Reck some years ago, it was under the impression that you were +some one else. You had left; and they did not know where to find you." + +"Yes, I had displeased them through arresting a wrong man, and other +things. I was down in the world then, and glad to do anything for a +living, even to serving writs." + +"You arrested the late Lord Hartledon for his brother," observed Mr. +Carr, with a careless smile. "I heard of it. I suppose you did not know +them apart." + +"I had never set eyes on either of them before," returned Gorton; +unconsciously confirming a point in the barrister's mind; which, however, +was already sufficiently obvious. + +"The man I wanted to find was named Gordon. I thought it just possible +that you might have changed your name temporarily: some of us finding it +convenient to do so on occasion." + +"I never changed mine in my life." + +"And if you had, I don't suppose you'd have changed it to one so +notorious as George Gordon." + +"Notorious?" + +"It was a George Gordon who was the hero of that piratical affair; that +mutiny on board the _Morning Star_." + +"Ah, to be sure. And an awful villain too! A man I met in Australia knew +Gordon well. But he tells a curious tale, though. He was a doctor, that +Gordon; had come last from somewhere in Kirkcudbrightshire." + +"He did," said Thomas Carr, quietly. "What curious tale does your friend +tell?" + +"Well, sir, he says--or rather said, for I've not seen him since my first +visit there--that George Gordon did not sail in the _Morning Star_. He +was killed in a drunken brawl the night before he ought to have sailed: +this man was present and saw him buried." + +"But there's pretty good proof that Gordon did sail. He was the +ringleader of the mutiny." + +"Well, yes. I don't know how it could have been. The man was positive. +I never knew Gordon; so that the affair did not interest me much." + +"You are doing well over there?" + +"Very well. I might retire now, if I chose to live in a small way, but I +mean to take a few more years of it, and go on to riches. Ah! and it was +just the turn of a pin whether I went over there that second time, or +whether I stopped in London to serve writs and starve." + +"Val was right," thought the barrister. + +On the following Saturday Mr. Carr took a return-ticket, and went down +to Hartledon: as he had done once or twice before in the old days. The +Hartledons had not come to town this season; did not intend to come: Anne +was too happy in the birth of her baby-boy to care for London; and Val +liked Hartledon better than any other place now. + +In one single respect the past year had failed to bring Anne +happiness--there was not entire confidence between herself and her +husband. He had something on his mind, and she could not fail to see that +he had. It was not that awful dread that seemed to possess him in his +first wife's time; nevertheless it was a weight which told more or less +on his spirits at all times. To Anne it appeared like remorse; yet she +might never have thought this, but for a word or two he let slip +occasionally. Was it connected with his children? She could almost have +fancied so: and yet in what manner could it be? His behaviour was +peculiar. He rather avoided them than not; but when with them was almost +passionately demonstrative, exactingly jealous that due attention should +be paid to them: and he seemed half afraid of caressing Anne's baby, lest +it should be thought he cared for it more than for the others. Altogether +Lady Hartledon puzzled her brains in vain: she could not make him out. +When she questioned him he would deny that there was anything the matter, +and said it was her fancy. + +They were at Hartledon alone: that is, without the countess-dowager. +That respected lady, though not actually domiciled with them during the +past twelve-month, had paid them three long visits. She was determined +to retain her right in the household--if right it could be called. The +dowager was by far too wary to do otherwise; and her behaviour to Anne +was exceedingly mild. But somehow she contrived to retain, or continually +renew, her evil influence over the children; though so insidiously, that +Lady Hartledon could never detect how or when it was done, or openly meet +it. Neither could she effectually counteract it. So surely as the dowager +came, so surely did the young boy and his sister become unruly with their +step-mother; ill-natured and rude. Lady Hartledon was kind, judicious, +and good; and things would so far be remedied during the crafty dowager's +absences, as to promise a complete cure; but whenever she returned the +evil broke out again. Anne was sorely perplexed. She did not like to deny +the children to their grandmother, who was more nearly related to them +than she herself; and she could only pray that time would bring about +some remedy. The dowager passed her time pretty equally between their +house and her son's. Lord Kirton had not married again, owing, perhaps, +to the watch and ward kept over him. But as soon as he started off to the +Continent, or elsewhere, where she could not follow him, then off she +came, without notice, to England and Lord Hartledon's. And Val, in his +good-nature, bore the infliction passively so long as she kept civil and +peaceable. + +In this also her husband's behaviour puzzled Anne. Disliking the dowager +beyond every other created being, he yet suffered her to indulge his +children; and if any little passage-at-arms supervened, took her part +rather than his wife's. + +"I cannot understand you, Val," Anne said to him one day, in tones of +pain. "You are not as you used to be." And his only answer was to strain +his wife to his bosom with an impassioned gesture of love. + +But these were only episodes in their generally happy life. Never more +happy, more free from any external influence, than when Thomas Carr +arrived there on this identical Saturday. He went in unexpectedly: and +Val's violet eyes, beautiful as ever, shone out their welcome; and Anne, +who happened to have her baby on her lap, blushed and smiled, as she held +it out for the barrister's inspection. + +"I dare not take it," said he. "You would be up in arms if it were +dropped. What is its name?" + +"Reginald." + +A little while, and she carried the child away, leaving them alone. Mr. +Carr declined refreshment for the present; and he and Val strolled out +arm-in-arm. + +"I have brought you an item of news, Hartledon. Gorton has turned up." + +"Not Gordon?" + +"No. And what's more, Gorton never was Gordon. You were right, and +I was wrong. I would have bet a ten-pound note--a great venture for a +barrister--that the men were the same; never, in point of fact, had a +doubt of it." + +"You would not listen to me," said Val. "I told you I was sure I could +not have failed to recognize Gordon, had he been the one who was down at +Calne with the writ." + +"But you acknowledged that it might have been he, nevertheless; that his +red hair might have been false; that you never had a distinct view of the +man's face; and that the only time you spoke to him was in the gloaming," +reiterated Thomas Carr. "Well, as it turns out, we might have spared half +our pains and anxiety, for Gorton was never any one but himself: an +innocent sheriff's officer, as far as you are concerned, who had never, +in his life set eyes on Val Elster until he went after him to Calne." + +"Didn't I say so?" reiterated Val. "Gordon would have known me too well +to arrest Edward for me." + +"But you admitted the general likeness between you and your brother; and +Gordon had not seen you for three years or more." + +"Yes; I admitted all you say, and perhaps was a little doubtful myself. +But I soon shook off the doubt, and of late years have been sure that +Gordon was really dead. It has been more than a conviction. I always said +there were no grounds for connecting the two together." + +"I had my grounds for doing it," remarked the barrister. "Gorton, it +seems, has been in Australia ever since. No wonder Green could not +unearth him in London. He's back again on a visit, looking like a +gentleman; and really I can't discover that there was ever anything +against him, except that he was down in the world. Taylor met him the +other day, and I had him brought to my chambers; and have told you the +result." + +"You do not now feel any doubt that Gordon's dead?" + +"None at all. Your friend, Gordon of Kircudbright, was the one who +embarked, or ought to have embarked, on the _Morning Star_, homeward +bound," said Mr. Carr. And he forthwith told Lord Hartledon what the man +had said. + +A silence ensued. Lord Hartledon was in deep and evidently not pleasant +thought; and the barrister stole a glance at him. + +"Hartledon, take comfort. I am as cautious by nature as I believe it is +possible for any one to be; and I am sure the man is dead, and can never +rise up to trouble you." + +"I have been sure of that for years," replied Hartledon quietly. "I have +just said so." + +"Then what is disturbing you?" + +"Oh, Carr, how can you ask it?" came the rejoinder. "What is it lies on +my mind day and night; is wearing me out before my time? Discovery may be +avoided; but when I look at the children--at the boy especially--it would +have turned some men mad," he more quietly added, passing his hand across +his brow. "As long as he lives, I cannot have rest from pain. The sins of +the fathers--" + +"Yes, yes," interposed Mr. Carr, hastily. "Still the case is light, +compared with what we once dreaded." + +"Light for me, heavy for him." + +Mr. Carr remained with them until the Monday: he then went back to London +and work; and time glided on again. An event occurred the following +winter which shall be related at once; more especially as nothing of +moment took place in those intervening months needing special record. + +The man Pike, who still occupied his shed undisturbed, had been ailing +for some time. An attack of rheumatic fever in the summer had left him +little better than a cripple. He crawled abroad still when he was able, +and _would_ do so, in spite of what Mr. Hillary said; would lie about the +damp ground in a lawless, gipsying sort of manner; but by the time winter +came all that was over, and Mr. Pike's career, as foretold by the +surgeon, was drawing rapidly to a close. Mrs. Gum was his good Samaritan, +as she had been in the fever some years before, going in and out and +attending to him; and in a reasonable way Pike wanted for nothing. + +"How long can I last?" he abruptly asked the doctor one morning. "Needn't +fear to say. _She_'s the only one that will take on; I shan't." + +He alluded to Mrs. Gum, who had just gone out. The surgeon considered. + +"Two or three days." + +"As much as that?" + +"I think so." + +"Oh!" said Pike. "When it comes to the last day I should like to see Lord +Hartledon." + +"Why the last day?" + +The man's pinched features broke into a smile; pleasant and fair features +once, with a gentle look upon them. The black wig and whiskers lay near +him; but the real hair, light and scanty, was pushed back from the damp +brow. + +"No use, then, to think of giving me up: no time left for it." + +"I question if Lord Hartledon would give you up were you in rude health. +I'm sure he would not," added Mr. Hillary, endorsing his opinion rather +emphatically. "If ever there was a kindly nature in the world, it's his. +What do you want with him?" + +"I should like to say a word to him in private," responded Pike. + +"Then you'd better not wait to say it. I'll tell him of your wish. It's +all safe. Why, Pike, if the police themselves came they wouldn't trouble +to touch you now." + +"I shouldn't much care if they did," said the man. "_I_ haven't cared for +a long while; but there were the others, you know." + +"Yes," said Mr. Hillary. + +"Look here," said Pike; "no need to tell him particulars; leave them +till I'm gone. I don't know that I'd like _him_ to look me in the face, +knowing them." + +"As you will," said Mr. Hillary, falling in with the wish more readily +than he might have done for anyone but a dying man. + +He had patients out of Calne, beyond Hartledon, and called in returning. +It was a snowy day; and as the surgeon was winding towards the house, +past the lodge, with a quick step, he saw a white figure marching across +the park. It was Lord Hartledon. He had been caught in the storm, and +came up laughing. + +"Umbrellas are at a premium," observed Mr. Hillary, with the freedom long +intimacy had sanctioned. + +"It didn't snow when I came out," said Hartledon, shaking himself, and +making light of the matter. "Were you coming to honour me with a morning +call?" + +"I was and I wasn't," returned the surgeon. "I've no time for morning +calls, unless they are professional ones; but I wanted to say a word to +you. Have you a mind for a further walk in the snow?" + +"As far as you like." + +"There's a patient of mine drawing very near the time when doctors can do +no more for him. He has expressed a wish to see you, and I undertook to +convey the request." + +"I'll go, of course," said Val, all his kindliness on the alert. "Who is +it?" + +"A black sheep," answered the surgeon. "I don't know whether that will +make any difference?" + +"It ought not," said Val rather warmly. "Black sheep have more need of +help than white ones, when it comes to the last. I suppose it's a poacher +wanting to clear his conscience." + +"It's Pike," said Hillary. + +"Pike! What can he want with me? Is he no better?" + +"He'll never be better in this world; and to speak the truth, I think +it's time he left it. He'll be happier, poor fellow, let's hope, in +another than he has been in this. Has it ever struck you, Lord Hartledon, +that there was something strange about Pike, and his manner of coming +here?" + +"Very strange indeed." + +"Well, Pike is not Pike, but another man--which I suppose you will say is +Irish. But that he is so ill, and it would not be worth while for the law +to take him, he might be in mortal fear of your seeing him, lest you +betrayed him. He wanted you not to be informed until the last hour. I +told him there was no fear." + +"I would not betray any living man, whatever his crime, for the whole +world," returned Lord Hartledon; his voice so earnest as to amount to +pain. And the surgeon looked at him; but there rose up in his remembrance +how _he_ had been avoiding betrayal for years. "Who is he?" + +"Willy Gum." + +Lord Hartledon turned his head sharply under cover of the surgeon's +umbrella, for they were walking along together. A thought crossed him +that the words might be a jest. + +"Yes, Pike is Willy Gum," continued Mr. Hillary. "And there you have the +explanation of the poor mother's nervous terrors. I do pity her. The +clerk has taken it more philosophically, and seemed only to care lest the +fact should become known. Ah, poor thing! what a life hers has been! Her +fears of the wild neighbour, her basins for cats, are all explained now. +She dreaded lest Calne should suspect that she occasionally stole into +the shed under cover of the night with the basins containing food for its +inmate. There the man has lived--if you can call such an existence +living; Willy Gum, concealed by his borrowed black hair and whiskers. But +that he was only a boy when he went away, Calne would have recognized him +in spite of them." + +"And he is not a poacher and a snarer, and I don't know what all, leading +a lawless life, and thieving for his living?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon, +the first question that rose to the surface, amidst the many that were +struggling in his mind. + +"I don't believe the man has touched the worth of a pin belonging to +any one since he came here, even on your preserves. People took up the +notion from his wild appearance, and because he had no ostensible means +of living. It would not have done to let them know that he had his +supplies--sometimes money, sometimes food--from respectable clerk Gum's." + +"But why should he be in concealment at all? That bank affair was made +all right at the time." + +"There are other things he feared, it seems. I've not time to enter into +details now; you'll know them later. There he is--Pike: and there he'll +die--Pike always." + +"How long have you known it?" + +"Since that fever he caught from the Rectory some years ago. I recollect +your telling me not to let him want for anything;" and Lord Hartledon +winced at the remembrance brought before him, as he always did wince at +the unhappy past. "I never shall forget it. I went in, thinking Pike was +ill, and that he, wild and disreputable though he had the character of +being, might want physic as well as his neighbours. Instead of the +black-haired bear I expected to see, there lay a young, light, delicate +fellow, with a white brow, and cheeks pink with fever. The features +seemed familiar to me; little by little recognition came to me, and I +saw it was Willy Gum, whom every one had been mourning as dead. He said +a pleading word or two, that I would keep his secret, and not give him up +to justice. I did not understand what there was to give him up for then. +However, I promised. He was too ill to say much; and I went to the next +door, and put it to Gum's wife that she should go and nurse Pike for +humanity's sake. Of course it was what she wanted to do. Poor thing! she +fell on her knees later, beseeching me not to betray him." + +"And you have kept counsel all this time?" + +"Yes," said the surgeon, laconically. "Would your lordship have done +otherwise, even though it had been a question of hanging?" + +"_I!_ I wouldn't give a man a month at the treadmill if I could help it. +One gets into offences so easily," he dreamily added. + +They crossed over the waste land, and Mr. Hillary opened the door of +the shed with a pass-key. A lock had been put on when Pike was lying in +rheumatic fever, lest intruders might enter unawares, and see him without +his disguise. + +"Pike, I have brought you my lord. He won't betray you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE SHED RAZED. + + +Closing the door upon them, the surgeon went off on other business, and +Lord Hartledon entered and bent over the bed; a more comfortable bed than +it once had been. It was the Willy Gum of other days; the boy he had +played with when they were boys together. White, wan, wasted, with the +dying hectic on his cheek, the glitter already in his eye, he lay there; +and Val's eyelashes shone as he took the worn hand. + +"I am so sorry, Willy. I had no suspicion it was you. Why did you not +confide in me?" + +The invalid shook his head. "There might have been danger in it." + +"Never from me," was the emphatic answer. + +"Ah, my lord, you don't know. I haven't dared to make myself known to a +soul. Mr. Hillary found it out, and I couldn't help myself." + +Lord Hartledon glanced round at the strange place: the rafters, the rude +walls. A fire was burning on the hearth, and the appliances brought to +bear were more comfortable than might have been imagined; but still-- + +"Surely you will allow yourself to be removed to a better place, Willy?" +he said. + +"Call me Pike," came the feverish interruption. "Never that other name +again, my lord; I've done with it for ever. As to a better place--I shall +have that soon enough." + +"You wanted to say something to me, Mr. Hillary said." + +"I've wanted to say it some time now, and to beg your lordship's pardon. +It's about the late earl's death." + +"My brother's?" + +"Yes. I was on the wrong scent a long time. And I can tell you what +nobody else will." + +Lord Hartledon lifted his head quickly; thoughts were crowding +impulsively into his mind, and he spoke in the moment's haste. + +"Surely you had not anything to do with that!" + +"No; but I thought your lordship had." + +"What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, quietly. + +"It's for my foolish and wicked and mistaken thought that I would crave +pardon before I go. I thought your lordship had killed the late lord, +either by accident or maliciously." + +"You must be dreaming, Pike!" + +"No; but I was no better than dreaming then. I had been living amidst +lawless scenes, over the seas and on the seas, where a life's not of much +account, and the fancy was easy enough. I happened to overhear a quarrel +between you and the earl just before his death; I saw you going towards +the spot at the time the accident happened, as you may remember--" + +"I did not go so far," interrupted Hartledon, wondering still whether +this might not be the wanderings of a dying man. "I turned back into the +trees at once, and walked slowly home. Many a time have I wished I had +gone on!" + +"Yes, yes; I was on the wrong scent. And there was that blow on his +temple to keep up the error, which I know now must have been done against +the estrade. I did suspect at the time, and your lordship will perhaps +not forgive me for it. I let drop a word that I suspected something +before that man Gorton, and he asked me what I meant; and I explained +it away, and said I was chaffing him. And I have been all this time, up +to a few weeks ago, learning the true particulars of how his lordship +died." + +Lord Hartledon decided that the man's mind was undoubtedly wandering. + +But Pike was not wandering. And he told the story of the boy Ripper +having been locked up in the mill. Mr. Ripper was almost a match for Pike +himself in deceit; and Pike had only learned the facts by dint of long +patience and perseverance and many threats. The boy had seen the whole +accident; had watched it from the window where he was enclosed, unable to +get out, unless he had torn away the grating. Lord Hartledon had lost all +command of the little skiff, his arm being utterly disabled; and it came +drifting down towards the mill, and struck against the estrade. The skiff +righted itself at once, but not its owner: there was a slight struggle, a +few cries, and he lay motionless, drifting later to the place where he +was found. Mr. Ripper's opinion was that he had lost his senses with the +blow on the temple, and fell an easy prey to death. Had that gentleman +only sacrificed the grating and his own reputation, he might have saved +him easily; and that fact had since been upon his conscience, making him +fear all sorts of things, not the least of which was that he might be +hanged as a murderer. + +This story he had told Pike at the time, with one reserve--he persisted +that he had not _seen_, only heard. Pike saw that the boy was still +not telling the whole truth, and suspected he was screening Lord +Hartledon--he who now stood before him. Mr. Ripper's logic tended to the +belief that he could not be punished if he stuck to the avowal of having +seen nothing. He had only heard the cries; and when Pike asked if they +were cries as if he were being assaulted, the boy evasively answered +"happen they were." Another little item he suppressed: that he found the +purse at the bottom of the skiff, after he got out of the mill, and +appropriated it to himself; and when he had fairly done that, he grew +more afraid of having done it than of all the rest. The money he +secreted, using it when he dared, a sixpence at a time; the case, with +its papers, he buried in the spot where his master afterwards found it. +With all this upon the young man's conscience, no wonder he was a little +confused and contradictory in his statements to Pike: no wonder he +fancied the ghost of the man he could have saved and did not, might now +and then be hovering about him. Pike learned the real truth at last; and +a compunction had come over him, now that he was dying, for having +doubted Lord Hartledon. + +"My lord, I can only ask you to forgive me. I ought to have known you +better. But things seemed to corroborate it so: I've heard people say the +new lord was as a man who had some great care upon him. Oh, I was a +fool!" + +"At any rate it was not _that_ care, Pike; I would have saved my +brother's life with my own, had I been at hand to do it. As to +Ripper--I shall never bear to look upon him again." + +"He's gone away," said Pike. + +"Where has he gone?" + +"The miller turned him off for idleness, and he's gone away, nobody knows +where, to get work: I don't suppose he'll ever come back again. This is +the real truth of the matter as it occurred, my lord; and there's no more +behind it. Ripper has now told all he knows, just as fully as if he had +been put to torture." + +Lord Hartledon remained with Pike some time longer, soothing the man as +much as it was in his power and kindly nature to soothe. He whispered a +word of the clergyman, Dr. Ashton. + +"Father says he shall bring him to-night," was the answer. "It's all a +farce." + +"I am sorry to hear you say that," returned Lord Hartledon, gravely. + +"If I had never said a worse thing than that, my lord, I shouldn't hurt. +Unless the accounts are made up beforehand, parsons can't avail much at +the twelfth hour. Mother's lessons to me when a child, and her reading +the Bible as she sits here in the night, are worth more than Dr. Ashton +could do. But for those old lessons' having come home to me now, I might +not have cared to ask your forgiveness. Dr. Ashton! what is he? For an +awful sinner--and it's what I've been--there's only Christ. At times I +think I've been too bad even for Him. I've only my sins to take to Him: +never were worse in this world." + +Lord Hartledon went out rather bewildered with the occurrences of the +morning. Thinking it might be only kind to step into the clerk's, he +crossed the stile and went in without ceremony by the open back-door. +Mrs. Gum was alone in the kitchen, crying bitterly. She dried her eyes +in confusion, as she curtsied to her visitor. + +"I know all," he interrupted, in low, considerate tones, to the poor +suffering woman. "I have been to see him. Never mind explanations: let +us think what we can best do to lighten his last hours." + +Mrs. Gum burst into deeper tears. It was a relief, no doubt: but she +wondered how much Lord Hartledon knew. + +"I say that he ought to be got away from that place, Mrs. Gum. It's not +fit for a man to die in. You might have him here. Calne! Surely my +protection will sufficiently screen him against tattling Calne!" + +She shook her head, saying it was of no use talking to Willy about +removal; he wouldn't have it; and she thought herself it might be better +not. Jabez, too; if this ever came out in Calne, it would just kill him; +his lordship knew what he was, and how he had cared for appearances all +his life. No; it would not be for many more hours now, and Willy must die +in the shed where he had lived. + +Lord Hartledon sat down on the ironing-board, the white table underneath +the window, in the old familiar manner of former days; many and many a +time had he perched himself there to talk to her when he was young Val +Elster. + +"Only fancy what my life has been, my lord," she said. "People have +called me nervous and timid; but look at the cause I've had! I was just +beginning to get over the grief for his death, when he came here; and to +the last hour of my life I shan't get the night out of my mind! I and +Jabez were together in this very kitchen. I had come in to wash up the +tea-things, and Jabez followed me. It was a cold, dark evening, and the +parlour fire had got low. By token, my lord, we were talking of you; you +had just gone away to be an ambassador, or something, and then we spoke +of the wild, strange, black man who had crept into the shed; and Jabez, +I remember, said he should acquaint Mr. Marris, if the fellow did not +take himself off. I had seen him that very evening, at dusk, for the +first time, when his great black face rose up against mine, nearly +frightening me to death. Jabez was angry at such a man's being there, and +said he should go up to Hartledon in the morning and see the steward. +Just then there came a tap at the kitchen door, and Jabez went to it. +It was the man; he had watched the servant out, and knew we were alone; +and he came into the kitchen, and asked if we did not know him. Jabez +did; he had seen Willy later than I had, and he recognized him; and the +man took off his black hair and great black whiskers, and I saw it was +Willy, and nearly fainted dead away." + +There was a pause. Lord Hartledon did not speak, and she resumed, after a +little indulgence in her grief. + +"And since then all our aim has been to hide the truth, to screen him, +and keep up the tale that we were afraid of the wild man. How it has +been done I know not: but I do know that it has nearly killed me. What +a night it was! When Jabez heard his story and forced him to answer all +questions, I thought he would have given Willy up to the law there and +then. My lord, we have just lived since with a sword over our heads!" + +Lord Hartledon remembered the sword that had been over his own head, and +sympathized with them from the depths of his heart. + +"Tell me all," he said. "You are quite safe with me, Mrs. Gum." + +"I don't know that there's much more to tell," she sighed. "We took the +best precautions we could, in a quiet way, having the holes in the +shutters filled up, and new locks put on the doors, lest people might +look in or step in, while he sat here of a night, which he took to do. +Jabez didn't like it, but I'm afraid I encouraged it. It was so lonely +for him, that shed, and so unhealthy! We sent away the regular servant, +and engaged one by day, so as to have the house to ourselves at night. If +a knock came to the door, Willy would slip out to the wood-house before +we opened it, lest it might be anybody coming in. He did not come in +every night--two or three times a-week; and it never was pleasant; for +Jabez would hardly open his mouth, unless it was to reproach him. Heaven +alone knows what I've had to bear!" + +"But, Mrs. Gum, I cannot understand. Why could not Willy have declared +himself openly to the world?" + +It was evidently a most painful question. Her eyes fell; the crimson +of shame flushed into her cheeks; and he felt sorry to have asked it. + +"Spare me, my lord, for I _cannot_ tell you. Perhaps Jabez will: or Mr. +Hillary; he knows. It doesn't much matter, now death's so near; but I +think it would kill me to have to tell it." + +"And no one except the doctor has ever known that it was Willy?" + +"One more, my lord: Mirrable. We told her at once. I have had to hear all +sorts of cruel things said of him," continued Mrs. Gum. "That he thieved +and poached, and did I know not what; and we could only encourage the +fancy, for it put people off the truth as to how he really lived." + +"Amidst other things, they said, I believe, that he was out with the +poachers the night my brother George was shot!" + +"And that night, my lord, he sat over this kitchen fire, and never +stirred from it. He was ill: it was rheumatism, caught in Australia, +that took such a hold upon him; and I had him here by the fire till near +daylight in the morning, so as to keep him out of the damp shed. What +with fearing one thing and another, I grew into a state of perpetual +terror." + +"Then you will not have him in here now," said Lord Hartledon, rising. + +"I cannot," she said, her tears falling silently. + +"Well, Mrs. Gum, I came in just to say a word of true sympathy. You have +it heartily, and my services also, if necessary. Tell Jabez so." + +He quitted the house by the front-door, as if he had been honouring the +clerk's wife with a morning-call, should any curious person happen to be +passing, and went across through the snow to the surgeon's. Mr. Hillary, +an old bachelor, was at his early dinner, and Lord Hartledon sat down and +talked to him. + +"It's only rump steak; but few cooks can beat mine, and it's very good. +Won't your lordship take a mouthful by way of luncheon?" + +"My curiosity is too strong for luncheon just now," said Val. "I have +come over to know the rights and wrongs of this story. What has Willy Gum +been doing in the past years that it cannot be told?" + +"I am not sure that it would be safe to say while he's living." + +"Not safe! with me! Was it safe with you?" + +"But I don't consider myself obliged to give up to justice any poor +criminal who comes in my way," said the surgeon; and Val felt a little +vexed, although he saw that he was joking. + +"Come, Hillary!" + +"Well, then, Willy Gum was coming home in the _Morning Star_; and a +mutiny broke out--mutiny and murder, and everything else that's bad; and +one George Gordon was the ringleader." + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Willy Gum was George Gordon." + +"What!" exclaimed Hartledon, not knowing how to accept the words. "How +could he be George Gordon?" + +"Because the real George Gordon never sailed at all; and this fellow Gum +went on board in his name, calling himself Gordon." + +Lord Hartledon leaned back in his chair and listened to the explanation. +A very simple one, after all. Gum, one of the wildest and most careless +characters possible when in Australia, gambled away, before sailing, +the money he had acquired. Accident made him acquainted with George +Gordon, also going home in the same ship and with money. Gordon was +killed the night before sailing--(Mr. Carr had well described it as +a drunken brawl)--killed accidentally. Gum was present; he saw his +opportunity, went on board as Gordon, and claimed the luggage--some +of it gold--already on board. How the mutiny broke out was less clear; +but one of the other passengers knew Gum, and threatened to expose him; +and perhaps this led to it. Gum, at any rate, was the ringleader, and +this passenger was one of the first killed. Gum--Gordon as he was +called--contrived to escape in the open boat, and found his way to land; +thence, disguised, to England and to Calne; and at Calne he had since +lived, with the price offered for George Gordon on his head. + +It was a strange and awful story: and Lord Hartledon felt a shiver run +through him as he listened. In truth, that shed was the safest and +fittest place for him to die in! + +As die he did ere the third day was over. And was buried as Pike, the +wild man, without a mourner. Clerk Gum stood over the grave in his +official capacity; and Dr. Ashton, who had visited the sick man, himself +read the service, which caused some wonder in Calne. + +And the following week Lord Hartledon caused the shed to be cleared +away, and the waste land ploughed; saying he would have no more tramps +encamping next door to Mr. and Mrs. Gum. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE DOWAGER'S ALARM. + + +Again the years went on, bringing not altogether comfort to the house of +Hartledon. As Anne's children were born--there were three now--a sort of +jealous rivalry seemed to arise between them and the two elder children; +and this in spite of Anne's efforts to the contrary. The moving spring +was the countess-dowager, who in secret excited the elder children +against their little brothers and sister; but so craftily that Anne could +produce nothing tangible to remonstrate against. Things would grow +tolerably smooth during the old woman's absences; but she took good care +not to make those absences lengthened, and then all the ill-nature and +rebellion reigned triumphant. + +Once only Anne spoke of this, and that was to her father. She hinted at +the state of things, and asked his advice. Why did not Val interpose his +authority, and forbid the dowager the house, if she could not keep +herself from making mischief in it, sensibly asked the Rector. But Anne +said neither she nor Val liked to do this. And then the Rector fancied +there was some constraint in his daughter's voice, and she was not +telling him the whole case unreservedly. He inquired no further, only +gave her the best advice in his power: to be watchful, and counteract the +dowager's influence, as far as she could; and trust to time; doing her +own duty religiously by the children. + +What Anne had not mentioned to Dr. Ashton was her husband's conduct in +the matter. In that one respect she could read him no better than of old. +Devoted to her as he was, as she knew him to be, in the children's petty +disputes he invariably took the part of his first wife's--to the glowing +satisfaction of the countess-dowager. No matter how glaringly wrong they +might be, how tyrannical, Hartledon screened the elder, and--to use the +expression of the nurses--snubbed the younger. Kind and good though Lady +Hartledon was, she felt it acutely; and, to say the truth, was sorely +puzzled and perplexed. + +Lord Elster was an ailing child, and Mr. Brook, the apothecary, was +always in attendance when they were in London. Lady Hartledon thought the +boy's health might have been better left more to nature, but she would +not have said so for the world. The dowager, on the contrary, would have +preferred that half the metropolitan faculty should see him daily. She +had a jealous dread of anything happening to the boy, and Anne's son +becoming the heir. + +Lord Hartledon was a busy man now, and had a place in the +Government--though not as yet in the Cabinet. Whatever his secret care +might have been, it was now passive; he was a general favourite, and +courted in society. He was still young; the face as genial, the manners +as free, the dark-blue eyes as kindly as of yore; eminently attractive in +earlier days, he was so still; and his love for his wife amounted to a +passion. + +At the close of a sharp winter, when they had come up to town in January, +that Lord Hartledon might be at his post, and the countess-dowager was +inflicting upon them one of her long visits, it happened that Lord Elster +seemed very poorly. Mr. Brook was called in, and said he would send a +powder. He was called in so often to the boy as to take it quite as a +matter of course; and, truth to say, thought the present indisposition +nothing but a slight cold. + +Late in the evening the two boys happened to be alone in the nursery, +the nurse being temporarily absent from it. Edward was now a tall, +slender, handsome boy in knickerbockers; Reginald a timid little fellow, +several years younger--rendered timid by Edward's perpetual tyranny, +which he might not resent. Edward was quiet enough this evening; he felt +ill and shivery, and sat close to the fire. Casting his eyes upwards, he +espied Mr. Brook's powder on the mantelpiece, with the stereotyped +direction--"To be taken at bedtime." It was lying close to the jam-pot, +which the head-nurse had put ready. Of course he had the greatest +possible horror of medicine, and his busy thoughts began to run upon how +he might avoid that detestable powder. The little fellow was sitting on +the carpet playing with his bricks. Edward turned his eyes on his +brother, and a bright thought occurred to him. + +"Regy," said he, taking down the pot, "come here. Look at this jam: isn't +it nice? It's raspberry and currant." + +The child left his bricks to bend over the tempting compound. + +"I'll give it you every bit to eat before nurse comes back," continued +the boy, "if you'll eat this first." + +Reginald cast a look upon the powder his brother exhibited. "What is it?" +he lisped; "something good?" + +"Delicious. It's just come in from the sweet-stuff shop. Open your +mouth--wide." + +Reginald did as he was bid: opened his mouth to its utmost width, and the +boy shot in the powder. + +It happened to be a preparation of that nauseous drug familiarly known +as "Dover's powder." The child found it so, and set up a succession of +shrieks, which aroused the house. The nurse rushed in; and Lord and Lady +Hartledon, both of whom were dressing for dinner, appeared on the scene. +There stood Reginald, coughing, choking, and roaring; and there sat +the culprit, equably devouring the jam. With time and difficulty the +facts were elicited from the younger child, and the elder scorned to deny +them. + +"What a wicked, greedy Turk you must be!" ejaculated the nurse, who was +often in hot water with the elder boy. + +"But Reginald need not have screamed so," testily interposed Lord +Hartledon. "I thought one of them must be on fire. You naughty child, +why did you scream?" he continued, giving Reginald a slight tap on the +ear. + +"Any child would scream at being so taken by surprise," said Lady +Hartledon. "It is Edward who is in fault, not Reginald; and it is he who +deserves punishment." + +"And he should have it, if he were my son," boldly declared the nurse, as +she picked up the unhappy Reginald. "A great greedy boy, to swallow down +every bit of the jam, and never give his brother a taste, after poisoning +him with that nasty powder!" + +Edward rose, and gave the nurse a look of scorn. "The powder's good +enough for him: he is nothing but a young brat, and I am Lord Elster." + +Lady Hartledon felt provoked. "What is that you say, Edward?" she asked, +laying her hand upon his shoulder in reproval. + +"Let me alone, mamma. He'll never be anything but Regy Elster. _I_ shall +be Lord Hartledon, and jam's proper for me, and it's fair I should put +upon him." + +The nurse flounced off with Reginald, and Lady Hartledon turned to her +husband. "Is this to be suffered? Will you allow it to pass without +correction?" + +"He means nothing," said Val. "Do you, Edward, my boy?" + +"Yes, I do; I mean what I say. I shall stand up for myself and Maude." + +Hartledon made no remonstrance: only drew the boy to him, with a hasty +gesture, as though he would shield him from anger and the world. + +Anne, hurt almost to tears, quitted the room. But she had scarcely +reached her own when she remembered that she had left a diamond brooch in +the nursery, which she had just been about to put into her dress when +alarmed by the cries. She went back for it, and stood almost confounded +by what she saw. Lord Hartledon, sitting down, had clasped his boy in his +arms, and was sobbing over him; emotion such as man rarely betrays. + +"Papa, Regy and the other two are not going to put me and Maude out of +our places, are they? They can't, you know. We come first." + +"Yes, yes, my boy; no one shall put you out," was the answer, as he +pressed passionate kisses on the boy's face. "I will stand by you for +ever." + +Very judicious indeed! the once sensible man seemed to ignore the evident +fact that the boy had been tutored. Lady Hartledon, a fear creeping over +her, she knew not of what, left her brooch where it was, and stole back +to her dressing-room. + +Presently Val came in, all traces of emotion removed from his features. +Lady Hartledon had dismissed her maid, and stood leaning against the arm +of the sofa, indulging in bitter rumination. + +"Silly children!" cried he; "it's hard work to manage them. And Edward +has lost his pow--" + +He broke off; stopped by the look of angry reproach from his wife, cast +on him for the first time in their married life. He took her hand and +bent down to her: fervent love, if ever she read it, in his eyes and +tones. + +"Forgive me, Anne; you are feeling this." + +"Why do you throw these slights on my children? Why are you not more +just?" + +"I do not intend to slight our children, Anne, Heaven knows. But I--I +cannot punish Edward." + +"Why did you ever make me your wife?" sighed Lady Hartledon, drawing her +hand away. + +His poor assumption of unconcern was leaving him quickly; his face was +changing to one of bitter sorrow. + +"When I married you," she resumed, "I had reason to hope that should +children be born to us, you would love them equally with your first; +I had a right to hope it. What have I done that--" + +"Stay, Anne! I can bear anything better than reproach from you." + +"What have I and my children done to you, I was about to ask, that you +take this aversion to them? lavishing all your love on the others and +upon them only injustice?" + +Val bent down, agitation in his face and voice. + +"Hush, Anne! you don't know. The danger is that I should love your +children better, far better than Maude's. It might be so if I did not +guard against it." + +"I cannot understand you," she exclaimed. + +"Unfortunately, I understand myself only too well. I have a heavy burden +to bear; do not you--my best and dearest--increase it." + +She looked at him keenly; laid her hands upon him, tears gathering in her +eyes. "Tell me what the burden is; tell me, Val! Let me share it." + +But Val drew in again at once, alarmed at the request: and contradicted +himself in the most absurd manner. + +"There's nothing to share, Anne; nothing to tell." + +Certainly this change was not propitiatory. Lady Hartledon, chilled and +mortified, disdained to pursue the theme. Drawing herself up, she turned +to go down to dinner, remarking that he might at least treat the children +with more _apparent_ justice. + +"I am just; at least, I wish to be just," he broke forth in impassioned +tones. "But I cannot be severe with Edward and Maude." + +Another powder was procured, and, amidst much fighting and resistance, +was administered. Lady Hartledon was in the boy's room the first thing +in the morning. One grand quality in her was, that she never visited +her vexation on the children; and Edward, in spite of his unamiable +behaviour, did at heart love her, whilst he despised his grandmother; one +of his sources of amusement being to take off that estimable old lady's +peculiarities behind her back, and send the servants into convulsions. + +"You look very hot, Edward," exclaimed Lady Hartledon, as she kissed him. +"How do you feel?" + +"My throat's sore, mamma, and my legs could not find a cold place all +night. Feel my hand." + +It was a child's answer, sufficiently expressive. An anxious look rose to +her countenance. + +"Are you sure your throat is sore?" + +"It's very sore. I am so thirsty." + +Lady Hartledon gave him some weak tea, and sent for Mr. Brook to come +round as soon as possible. At breakfast she met the dowager, who had +been out the previous evening during the powder episode. Lady Hartledon +mentioned to her husband that she had sent a message to the doctor, not +much liking Edward's symptoms. + +"What's the matter with him?" asked the dowager, quickly. "What are his +symptoms?" + +"Nay, I may be wrong," said Lady Hartledon, with a smile. "I won't infect +you with my fears, when there may be no reason for them." + +The countess-dowager caught at the one word, and applied it in a manner +never anticipated. She was the same foolish old woman she had ever been; +indeed, her dread of catching any disorder had only grown with the years. +And it happened, unfortunately for her peace, that the disorder which +leaves its cruel traces on the most beautiful face was just then +prevalent in London. Of all maladies the human frame is subject to, +the vain old creature most dreaded that one. She rose up from her seat; +her face turned pale, and her teeth began to chatter. + +"It's small-pox! If I have a horror of one thing more than another, it's +that dreadful, disfiguring malady. I wouldn't stay in a house where it +was for a hundred thousand pounds. I might catch it and be marked for +life!" + +Lady Hartledon begged her to be composed, and Val smothered a laugh. The +symptoms were not those of small-pox. + +"How should you know?" retorted the dowager, drowning the reassuring +words. "How should any one know? Get Pepps here directly. Have you sent +for him?" + +"No," said Anne. "I have more confidence in Mr. Brook where children are +concerned." + +"Confidence in Brook!" shrieked the dowager, pushing up her flaxen front. +"A common, overworked apothecary! Confidence in him, Lady Hartledon! +Elster's life may be in danger; he is my grandchild, and I insist on +Pepps being fetched to him." + +Anne sat down at once and wrote a brief note to Sir Alexander. It +happened that the message sent to Mr. Brook had found that gentleman away +from home, and the greater man arrived first. He looked at the child, +asked a few bland questions, and wrote a prescription. He did not say +what the illness might be: for he never hazarded a premature opinion. +As he was leaving the chamber, a servant accosted him. + +"Lady Kirton wishes to see you, sir." + +"Well, Pepps," cried she, as he advanced, having loaded herself with +camphor, "what is it?" + +"I do not take upon myself to pronounce an opinion, Lady Kirton," +rejoined the doctor, who had grown to feel irritated lately at the +dowager's want of ceremony towards him. "In the early stage of a disorder +it can rarely be done with certainty." + +"Now don't let's have any of that professional humbug, Pepps," rejoined +her ladyship. "You doctors know a common disorder as soon as you see it, +only you think it looks wise not to say. Is it small-pox?" + +"It's not impossible," said the doctor, in his wrath. + +The dowager gasped. + +"But I do not observe any symptoms of that malady developing themselves +at present," added the doctor. "I think I may say it is not small-pox." + +"Good patience, Pepps! you'll frighten me into it. It is and it +isn't--what do you mean? What is it, if it's not that?" + +"I may be able to tell after a second visit. Good morning, Lady Kirton," +said he, backing out. "Take care you don't do yourself an injury with too +much of that camphor. It is exciting." + +In a short time Mr. Brook arrived. When he had seen the child and was +alone with Lady Hartledon, she explained that the countess-dowager had +wished Sir Alexander Pepps called in, and showed him the prescription +just written. He read it and laid it down. + +"Lady Hartledon," said he, "I must venture to disagree with that +prescription. Lord Elster's symptoms are those of scarlet-fever, and it +would be unwise to administer it. Sir Alexander stands of course much +higher in the profession than I do, but my practice with children is +larger than his." + +"I feared it was scarlet-fever," answered Lady Hartledon. "What is to be +done? I have every confidence in you, Mr. Brook; and were Edward my own +child, I should know how to act. Do you think it would be dangerous to +give him this prescription? You may speak confidentially." + +"Not dangerous; it is a prescription that will do neither harm nor +good. I suspect Sir Alexander could not detect the nature of the illness, +and wrote this merely to gain time. It is not an infrequent custom to +do so. In my opinion, not an hour should be lost in giving him a more +efficacious medicine; early treatment is everything in scarlet-fever." + +Lady Hartledon had been rapidly making up her mind. "Send in what you +think right to be taken, immediately," she said, "and meet Sir Alexander +in consultation later on." + +Scarlet-fever it proved to be; not a mild form of it; and in a very few +hours Lord Elster was in great danger, the throat being chiefly affected. +The house was in commotion; the dowager worse than any one in it. A +complication of fears beset her: first, terror for her own safety, and +next, the less abject dread that death might remove _her_ grandchild. In +this latter fear she partly lost her personal fears, so far at any rate +as to remain in the house; for it seemed to her that the child would +inevitably die if she left it. Late in the afternoon she rushed into the +presence of the doctors, who had just been holding a second consultation. + +Sir Alexander Pepps recommended leeches to the throat: Mr. Brook +disapproved of them. "It is the one chance for his life," said Sir +Alexander. + +"It is removing nearly all chance," said Mr. Brook. + +Sir Alexander prevailed; and when they came forth it was understood that +leeches were to be applied. But here Lady Hartledon stepped in. + +"I dread leeches to the throat, Sir Alexander, if you will forgive me for +saying so. I have twice seen them applied in scarlet-fever; and the +patients--one a young lady, the other a child--in both cases died." + +"Madam, I have given my opinion," curtly returned the physician. "They +are necessary in Lord Elster's case." + +"Do you approve of leeches?" cried Lady Hartledon, turning to Mr. Brook. + +"Not altogether," was the cautious answer. + +"Answer me one question, Mr. Brook," said Lady Hartledon, in her +earnestness. "Would you apply these leeches were you treating the case +alone?" + +"No, madam, I would not." + +Anne appealed to her husband. When the medical men differed, she thought +the decision lay with him. + +"I'm sure I don't know," returned Val, who felt perfectly helpless to +advise. "Can't you decide, Anne? You know more about children and illness +than I do." + +"I would do so without hesitating a moment were it my own child," she +replied. "I would not allow them to be put on." + +"No, you would rather see him die," interrupted the dowager, who +overheard the words, and most intemperately and unjustifiably answered +them. + +Anne coloured with shame for the old woman, but the words silenced her: +how was it possible to press her own opinion after that? Sir Alexander +had it all his own way, and the leeches were applied on either side the +throat, Mr. Brook emphatically asserting in Lady Hartledon's private ear +that he "washed his hands" of the measure. Before they came off the +consequences were apparent; the throat was swollen outwardly, on both +sides; within, it appeared to be closing. + +The dowager, rather beside herself on the whole, had insisted on the +leeches. Any one, seeing her conduct now, might have thought the invalid +boy was really dear to her. Nothing of the sort. A hazy idea had been +looming through her mind for years that Val was not strong; she had been +mistaking mental disease for bodily illness; and a project to have full +control of her grandchild, should he come into the succession +prematurely, had coloured her dreams. This charming prospect would be +ignominiously cut short if the boy went first. + +Sir Alexander saw his error. There must be something peculiar in Lord +Elster's constitution, he blandly said; it would not have happened in +another. Of course, anything that turns out a mistake always is in the +constitution--never in the treatment. Whether he lived or died now was +just the turn of a straw: the chances were that he would die. All that +could be done now was to endeavour to counteract the mischief by external +applications. + +"I wish you would let me try a remedy," said Lady Hartledon, wistfully. +"A compress of cold water round the throat with oilsilk over it. I have +seen it do so much good in cases of inward inflammation." + +Mr. Brook smiled: if anything would do good that might, he said, speaking +as if he had little faith in remedies now. Sir Alexander intimated that +her ladyship might try it; graciously observing that it would do no harm. + +The application was used, and the evening went on. The child had fallen +into a sort of stupor, and Mr. Brook came in again before he had been +away an hour, and leaned anxiously over the patient. He lay with his eyes +half-closed, and breathed with difficulty. + +"I think," he exclaimed softly, "there's the slightest shade of +improvement." + +"In the fever, or the throat?" whispered Lady Hartledon, who had not +quitted the boy's bedside. + +"In the throat. If so, it is due to your remedy, Lady Hartledon." + +"Is he in danger?" + +"In great danger. Still, I see a gleam of hope." + +After the surgeon's departure, she went down to her husband, meeting +Hedges on the stairs, who was coming to inquire after the patient for his +master, for about the fiftieth time. Hartledon was in the library, pacing +about incessantly in the darkness, for the room was only lighted by the +fire. Anne closed the door and approached him. + +"Percival, I do not bring you very good tidings," she said; "and yet they +might be worse. Mr. Brook tells me he is in great danger, but thinks he +sees a gleam of hope." + +Lord Hartledon took her hand within his arm and resumed his pacing; his +eyes were fixed on the carpet, and he said nothing. + +"Don't grieve as those without hope," she continued, her eyes filling +with tears. "He may yet recover. I have been praying that it may be so." + +"Don't pray for it," he cried, his tone one of painful entreaty. "I have +been daring to pray that it might please God to take him." + +"Percival!" she exclaimed, starting away from him. + +"I am not mad, Anne. Death would be a more merciful fate for my boy than +life. Death now, whilst he is innocent, safe in Christ's love!--death, in +Heaven's mercy!" + +And Anne crept back to the upper chamber, sick with terror; for she did +think that the trouble of his child's state was affecting her husband's +brain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A PAINFUL SCENE. + + +Lord and Lady Hartledon were entertaining a family group. The everlasting +dowager kept to them unpleasantly; making things unbearable, and wearing +out her welcome in no slight degree, if she had only been wise enough to +see it. She had escaped scarlet-fever and other dreaded ills; and was +alive still. For that matter, the little Lord Elster had come out of it +also: _not_ unscathed; for the boy remained a sickly wreck, and there was +very little hope that he would really recover. The final close might be +delayed, but it was not to be averted. Before Easter they had left London +for Hartledon, that he might have country air. Lord Hartledon's eldest +sister, Lady Margaret Cooper, came there with her husband; and on this +day the other sister, Lady Laura Level, had arrived from India. Lady +Margaret was an invalid, and not an agreeable woman besides; but to Laura +and Anne the meeting, after so many years' separation, was one of intense +pleasure. They had been close friends from childhood. + +They were all gathered together in the large drawing-room after luncheon. +The day was a wet one, and no one had ventured out except Sir James +Cooper. Accustomed to the Scotch mists, this rain seemed a genial shower, +and Sir James was enjoying it accordingly. It was a warm, close day, in +spite of the rain; and the large fire in the grate made the room +oppressive, so that they were glad to throw the windows open. + +Lying on a sofa near the fire was the invalid boy. By merely looking at +him you might see that he would never rally, though he fluctuated much. +To-day he was, comparatively speaking, well. Little Maude was threading +beads; and the two others, much younger, stood looking on--Reginald +and Anne. Lady Margaret Cooper, having a fellow-feeling for an invalid, +sat near the sick boy. Lord Hartledon sat apart at a table reading, and +making occasional notes. The dowager, more cumbersome than ever, dozed on +the other side of the hearth. She was falling into the habit of taking a +nap after luncheon as well as after dinner. Lady Laura was in danger of +convulsions every time she looked at the dowager. Never in all her life +had she seen so queer an old figure. She and Anne stood together at an +open window, the one eagerly asking questions, the other answering, all +in undertones. Lady Laura had been away from her own home and kindred +some twelve years, and it seemed to her half a lifetime. + +"Anne, how _was_ it?" she exclaimed. "It was a thing that always puzzled +me, and I never came to the bottom of it. My husband said at the time I +used to talk of it in my sleep." + +"What do you mean?" + +"About you and Val. You were engaged to each other; you loved him, and he +loved you. How came that other marriage about?" + +"Well, I can hardly tell you. I was at Cannes with mamma, and he fell +into the meshes. We knew nothing about it until they were married. Never +mind all that now; I don't care to recall it, and it is a very sore point +with Val. The blame, I believe, lay chiefly with _her_." + +Anne glanced at the dowager, to indicate whom she meant. Lady Laura's +eyes followed the same direction, and she laughed. + +"A painted old guy! She looks like one who would do it. Why doesn't some +one put her under a glass case and take her to the British Museum? When +news of the marriage came out to India I was thunderstruck. I wrote off +at once to Val, asking all sorts of questions, and received quite a +savage reply, telling me to mind my own business. That letter alone would +have told me how Val repented; it was so unlike him. Do you know what I +did?" + +"What did you do?" + +"Sent him another letter by return mail with only two words in +it--'Elster's Folly.' Poor Val! She died of heart-disease, did she not?" + +"Yes. But she seemed to have been ailing for some time. She was greatly +changed." + +"Val is changed. There are threads of silver in his hair; and he is so +much quieter than I thought he ever would be. I wonder you took him, +Anne, after all; and I wonder still more that Dr. Ashton allowed it." + +A blush tinged Lady Hartledon's face as she looked out at the soft rain, +and a half-smile parted her lips. + +"I see, Anne. Love once, love ever; and I suppose it was the same with +Val, in spite of his folly. I should have taken out my revenge by +marrying the first eligible man that offered himself. Talking of +that--is poor Mr. Graves married yet?" + +"Yes, at last," said Anne, laughing. "A grand match too for him, poor +timid man: his wife's a lord's daughter, and as tall as a house." + +"If ever man worshipped woman he worshipped you, though you were only a +girl." + +"Nonsense, Laura." + +"Anne, you knew it quite well; and so did Val. Did he ever screw his +courage up to the point of proposing?" + +Anne laughed. "If he ever did, I was too vexed to answer him. He will be +very happy, Laura. His wife is a meek, amiable woman, in spite of her +formidable height." + +"And now I want you to tell me one thing--How was it that Edward could +not be saved?" + +For a moment Lady Hartledon did not understand, and turned her eyes on +the boy. + +"I mean my brother, Anne. When news came out to India that he had died in +that shocking manner, following upon poor George--I don't care now to +recall how I felt. Was there _no_ one at hand to save him?" + +"No one. A sad fatality seemed to attend it altogether. Val regrets his +brother bitterly to this day." + +"And that poor Willy Gum was killed at sea, after all!" + +"Yes," said Anne, shortly. "When you spoke of Edward," returning to the +other subject, "I thought you meant the boy." + +Lady Laura shook her head. "He will never get well, Anne. Death is +written on his face." + +"You would say so, if you saw him some days. He is excitable, and your +coming has roused him. I never saw any one fluctuate so; one day dying, +the next better again. For myself I have very little hope, and Mr. +Hillary has none; but I dare not say so to Margaret and the dowager." + +"Why not?" + +"It makes them angry. They cannot bear to hear there's a possibility of +his death. Margaret may see the danger, but I don't believe the dowager +does." + +"Their wishes must blind them," observed Lady Laura. "The dowager seems +all fury and folly. She scarcely gave herself time to welcome me this +morning, or to inquire how I was after my long voyage; but began +descanting on a host of evils, the chief being that her grandson should +have had fever." + +"She would like him to bear a charmed life. Not for love of him, Laura." + +"What then?" + +"I do not believe she has a particle of love for him. Don't think me +uncharitable; it is the truth; Val will tell you the same. She is not +capable of experiencing common affection for any one; every feeling of +her nature is merged in self-interest. Had her daughter left another boy +she would not be dismayed at the prospect of this one's death; whether he +lived or died, it would be all one to her. The grievance is that Reginald +should have the chance of succeeding." + +"Because he is your son. I understand. A vain, puffed-up old thing! the +idea of her still painting her face and wearing false curls! I wonder you +tolerate her in your house, Anne! She's always here." + +"How can I help myself? She considers, I believe, that she has more right +in this house than I have." + +"Does she make things uncomfortable?" + +"More so than I have ever confessed, even to my husband. From the hour of +my marriage she set the two children against me, and against my children +when they came; and she never ceases to do so still." + +"Why do you submit to it?" + +"She is their grandmother, and I cannot well deny her the house. Val +might do so, but he does not. Perhaps I should have had courage to +attempt it, for the children's own sake, it is so shocking to train them +to ill-nature, but that he appears to think as she does. The petty +disputes between the children are frequent--for my two elder ones are +getting of an age to turn again when put upon--but their father never +corrects Edward and Maude, or allows them to be corrected; let them do +what wrong they will, he takes their part. I believe that if Edward +_killed_ one of my children, he would only caress him." + +Lady Laura turned her eyes on the speaker's face, on its flush of pain +and mortification. + +"And Val loved you: and did _not_ love Maude! What does it mean, Anne?" + +"I cannot tell you. Things altogether are growing more than I can bear." + +"Margaret has been with you some time; has she not interfered, or tried +to put things upon a right footing?" + +Anne shook her head. "She espouses the dowager's side; upholds the two +children in their petty tyranny. No one in the house takes my part, or my +children's." + +"That is just like Margaret. Do you remember how you and I used to dread +her domineering spirit when we were girls? It's time I came, I think, to +set things right." + +"Laura, neither you nor any one else can set things right. They have been +wrong too long. The worst is, I cannot see what the evil is, as regards +Val. If I ask him he repels me, or laughs at me, and tells me I am +fanciful. That he has some secret trouble I have long known: his days are +unhappy, his nights restless; often when he thinks me asleep I am +listening to his sighs. I am glad you have come home; I have wanted a +true friend to confide these troubles to, and I could only speak of them +to one of the family." + +"It sounds like a romance," cried Laura. "Some secret grief! What can it +be?" + +They were interrupted by a commotion. Maude had been threading a splendid +ring all the colours of the rainbow, and now exhibited it for the benefit +of admiring beholders. + +"Papa--Aunt Margaret--look at my ring." + +Lord Hartledon nodded pleasantly at the child from his distant seat; Lady +Margaret appeared not to have heard; and Maude caught up a soft ball and +threw it at her aunt. + +Unfortunately, it took a wrong direction, and struck the nodding dowager +on the nose. She rose up in a fury and some commotion ensued. + +"Make me a ring, Maude," little Anne lisped when the dowager had subsided +into her chair again. Maude took no notice; her finger was still lifted +with the precious ornament. + +"Can you see it from your sofa, Edward?" + +The boy rose and stretched himself. "Pretty well. You have put it on the +wrong finger, Maude. Ladies don't wear rings on the little finger." + +"But it won't go on the others," said Maude dolefully: "it's too small." + +"Make a larger one." + +"Make one for me, Maude," again broke in Anne's little voice. + +"No, I won't!" returned Maude. "You are big enough to thread beads for +yourself." + +"No, she's not," said Reginald. "Make her one, Maude." + +"No, don't, Maude," said Edward. "Let them do things for themselves." + +"You hear!" whispered Lady Hartledon. + +"I do hear. And Val sits there and never reproves them; and the old +dowager's head and eyes are nodding and twinkling approval." + +Lady Laura was an energetic little woman, thin, and pale, and excessively +active, with a propensity for setting the world straight, and a tongue as +unceremoniously free as the dowager's. In the cause of justice she would +have stood up to battle with a giant. Lady Hartledon was about to make +some response, but she bade her wait; her attention was absorbed by the +children. Perhaps the truth was that she was burning to have a say in the +matter herself. + +"Maude," she called out, "if that ring is too small for you, it would do +for Anne, and be kind of you to give it her." + +Maude looked dubious. Left to herself, the child would have been generous +enough. She glanced at the dowager. + +"May I give it her, grand'ma?" + +Grand'ma was conveniently deaf. She would rather have cut the ring in +two than it should be given to the hated child: but, on the other hand, +she did not care to offend Laura Level, who possessed inconveniently +independent opinions, and did not shrink from proclaiming them. Seizing +the poker, she stirred the fire, and created a divertissement. + +In the midst of it, Edward left his sofa and walked up to the group and +their beads. He was very weak, and tottered unintentionally against Anne. +The touch destroyed her equilibrium, and she fell into Maude's lap. There +was no damage done, but the box of beads was upset on to the carpet. +Maude screamed at the loss of her treasures, rose up with anger, and +slapped Anne. The child cried out. + +"Why d'you hit her?" cried Reginald. "It was Edward's fault; he pushed +her." + +"What's that!" exclaimed Edward. "My fault! I'll teach you to say that," +and he struck Reginald a tingling slap on the cheek. + +Of course there was loud crying. The dowager looked on with a red face. +Lady Margaret Cooper, who had no children of her own, stopped her ears. +Lady Laura laid her hand on her sister-in law's wrist. + +"And you can witness these scenes, and not check them! You are changed, +indeed, Anne!" + +"If I interfere to protect my children, I am checked and prevented," +replied Lady Hartledon, with quivering lips. "This scene is nothing to +what we have sometimes." + +"Who checks you--Val?" + +"The dowager. But he does not interpose for me. Where the children are +concerned, he tacitly lets her have sway. It is not often anything of +this sort takes place in his presence." + +The noise continued: all the children seemed to be fighting together. +Anne went forward and drew her own two out of the fray. + +"Pray send those two screamers to the nursery, Lady Hartledon," cried the +dowager. + +"I cannot think why they are allowed in the drawing-room at all," said +Lady Margaret, addressing no one in particular, unless it was the +ceiling. "Edward and Maude would be quiet enough without them." + +Anne did not retort: she only glanced at her husband, silent reproach on +her pale face, and took up Anne in her arms to carry her from the room. +But Lady Laura, impulsive and warm, came forward and stopped the exit. + +"Lady Kirton, I am ashamed of you! Margaret, I am ashamed of you! I am +ashamed of you all. You are doing the children a lasting injury, and you +are guilty of cruel insult to Lady Hartledon. This is the second scene I +have been a witness to, when the elder children were encouraged to behave +badly to the younger; the first was in the nursery this morning; and I +have been here only a few hours. And you, Lord Hartledon, their head and +father, responsible for your children's welfare, can tamely sit by, and +suffer it, and see your wife insulted! Is this what you married Anne +Ashton for?" + +Lord Hartledon rose: a strange look of pain on his features. "You are +mistaken, Laura. I wish every respect to be shown to my wife; respect +from all. Anne knows it." + +"Respect!" scornfully retorted Lady Laura. "When you do not give her +so much as a voice in her own house; when you allow her children to be +trampled on, and beaten--_beaten_, sir--and she dare not interfere! +I blush for you, and could never have believed you would so behave to +your wife. Who are you, madam," turning again, in her anger, on the +countess-dowager, "and who are you, Margaret, that you should dare to +encourage Edward and Maude in rebellion against their present mother?" + +Taken by surprise, the dowager made no answer. Lady Margaret looked +defiance. + +"You and Anne have invited me to your house on a lengthened visit, Lord +Hartledon," continued Laura; "but I promise you that if this is to +continue I will not remain in it; I will not witness insult to my early +friend; and I will not see children incited to evil passions. Undress +that child, sir," she sharply added, directing Val's attention to +Reginald, "and you will see bruises on his back and shoulder. I saw them +this morning, and asked the nurse what caused them and was told Lord +Elster kicked him." + +"It was the little beggar's own fault," interposed Edward, who was +standing his ground with equanimity, and seemed to enjoy the scene. + +Lady Laura caught him sharply by the arm. "Of whom are you speaking! +Who's a little beggar?" + +"Regy is." + +"Who taught you to call him one?" + +"Grand'ma." + +"There, go away; go away all of you," cried Lady Laura, turning the two +elder ones from the room imperatively, after Anne and her children. "Oh, +so you are going also, Val! No wonder you are ashamed to stay here." + +He was crossing the room; a curious expression on his drawn lips. Laura +watched him from it; then went and stood before the dowager; her back to +her sister. + +"Has it ever struck you, Lady Kirton, that you may one day have to +account for this?" + +"It strikes me that you are making a vast deal of unnecessary noise, +Madame Laura!" + +"If your daughter could look on, from the other world, at earth and +its scenes--and some hold a theory that such a state of things is not +impossible--what would be her anguish, think you, at the evil you are +inculcating in her children? One of them will very soon be with her--" + +The dowager interrupted with a sort of howl. + +"He will; there is no mistaking it. You who see him constantly may not +detect it; but it is evident to a stranger. Were it not beneath me, I +might ask on what grounds you tutor him to call Reginald a beggar, +considering that your daughter brought my brother nothing but a few +debts; whilst Miss Ashton brought him a large fortune?" + +"I wouldn't condescend to be mean, Laura," put in Lady Margaret, whilst +the dowager fanned her hot face. + +They were interrupted by Hedges, showing in visitors. How much more Lady +Laura might have said must remain unknown: she was in a mood to say a +great deal. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Graves." + +It was the curate; and the tall, meek woman spoken of by Anne. Laura +laughed as she shook hands with the former; whom she had known when a +girl, and been given to ridiculing more than was quite polite. + +Lord Hartledon had left the room after his wife. She sent the children +to the nursery; and he found her alone in her chamber sobbing bitterly. + +Certainly he was a contradiction. He fondly took her in his arms, +beseeching her to pardon him, if he had unwittingly slighted her, as +Laura implied; and his blue eyes were beaming with affection, his voice +was low with persuasive tenderness. + +"There are times," she sobbed, "when I am tempted to wish myself back in +my father's house!" + +"I cannot think whence all this discomfort arises!" he weakly exclaimed. +"Of one thing, Anne, rest assured: as soon as Edward changes for the +better or the worse--and one it must inevitably be--that mischief-making +old woman shall quit my house for ever." + +"Edward will never change for the better," she said. "For the worse, he +may soon: for the better, never." + +"I know: Hillary has told me. Bear with things a little longer, and +believe that I will remedy them the moment remedy is possible. I am your +husband." + +Lady Hartledon lifted her eyes to his. "We cannot go on as we are going +on now. Tell me what it is you have to bear. You remind me that you are +my husband; I now remind you that I am your wife: confide in me. I will +be true and loving to you, whatever it may be." + +"Not yet; in a little time, perhaps. Bear with me still, my dear wife." + +His look was haggard; his voice bore a sound of anguish; he clasped her +hand to pain as he left her. Whatever might be his care, Anne could not +doubt his love. + +And as he went into the drawing-room, a smile on his face, chatting with +the curate, laughing with his newly-married wife, both those unsuspicious +visitors could have protested when they went forth, that never was a man +more free from trouble than that affable servant of her Majesty's the +Earl of Hartledon. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +EXPLANATIONS. + + +A change for the worse occurred in the child, Lord Elster; and after two +or three weeks' sinking he died, and was buried at Hartledon by the side +of his mother. Hartledon's sister quitted Hartledon House for a change; +but the countess-dowager was there still, and disturbed its silence with +moans and impromptu lamentations, especially when going up and down the +staircase and along the corridors. + +Mr. Carr, who had come for the funeral, also remained. On the day +following it he and Lord Hartledon were taking a quiet walk together, +when they met Mrs. Gum. Hartledon stopped and spoke to her in his kindly +manner. She was less nervous than she used to be; and she and her husband +were once more at peace in their house. + +"I would not presume to say a word of sympathy, my lord," she said, +curtseying, "but we felt it indeed. Jabez was cut up like anything when +he came in yesterday from the funeral." + +Val looked at her, a meaning she understood in his earnest eyes. "Yes, it +is hard to part with our children: but when grief is over, we live in the +consolation that they have only gone before us to a better place, where +sin and sorrow are not. We shall join them later." + +She went away, tears of joy filling her eyes. _She_ had a son up there, +waiting for _her_; and she knew Lord Hartledon meant her to think of him +when he had so spoken. + +"Carr," said Val, "I never told you the finale of that tragedy. George +Gordon of the mutiny, did turn up: he lived and died in England." + +"No!" + +"He died at Calne. It was that poor woman's son." + +Mr. Carr looked round for an explanation. He knew her as the wife of +clerk Gum, and sister to Hartledon's housekeeper. Val told him all, as +the facts had come out to him. + +"Pike always puzzled me," he said. "Disguised as he was with his black +hair, his face stained with some dark juice, there was a look in him that +used to strike some chord in my memory. It lay in the eyes, I think. +You'll keep these facts sacred, Carr, for the parents' sake. They are +known only to four of us." + +"Have you told your wife yet?" questioned Mr. Carr, recurring to a +different subject. + +"No. I could not, somehow, whilst the child lay dead in the house. She +shall know it shortly." + +"And what about dismissing the countess-dowager? You will do it?" + +"I shall be only too thankful to do it. All my courage has come back to +me, thank Heaven!" + +The Countess-Dowager of Kirton's reign was indeed over; never would he +allow her to disturb the peace of his house again. He might have to +pension her off, but that was a light matter. His intention was to speak +to her in a few days' time, allowing an interval to elapse after the +boy's death; but she forestalled the time herself, as Val was soon to +find. + +Dinner that evening was a sad meal--sad and silent. The only one who did +justice to it was the countess-dowager--in a black gauze dress and white +crepe turban. Let what would betide, Lady Kirton never failed to enjoy +her dinner. She had a scheme in her head; it had been working there since +the day of her grandson's death; and when the servants withdrew, she +judged it expedient to disclose it to Hartledon, hoping to gain her +point, now that he was softened by sorrow. + +"Hartledon, I want to talk to you," she began, critically tasting her +wine; "and I must request that you'll attend to me." + +Anne looked up, wondering what was coming. She wore an evening dress of +black crepe, a jet necklace on her fair neck, jet bracelets on her arms: +mourning far deeper than the dowager's. + +"Are you listening to me, Val?" + +"I am quite ready," answered Val. + +"I asked you, once before, to let me have Maude's children, and to allow +me a fair income with them. Had you done so, this dreadful misfortune +would not have overtaken your house: for it stands to reason that if Lord +Elster had been living somewhere else with me, he could not have caught +scarlet-fever in London." + +"We never thought he did catch it," returned Hartledon. "It was not +prevalent at the time; and, strange to say, none of the other children +took it, nor any one else in the house." + +"Then what gave it him?" sharply uttered the dowager. + +What Val answered was spoken in a low tone, and she caught one word only, +Providence. She gave a growl, and continued. + +"At any rate, he's gone; and you have now no pretext for refusing me +Maude. I shall take her, and bring her up, and you must make me a liberal +allowance for her." + +"I shall not part with Maude," said Val, in quiet tones of decision. + +"You can't refuse her to me, I say," rejoined the dowager, nodding her +head defiantly; "she's my own grandchild." + +"And my child. The argument on this point years ago was unsatisfactory, +Lady Kirton; I do not feel disposed to renew it. Maude will remain in her +own home." + +"You are a vile man!" cried the dowager, with an inflamed face. "Pass me +the wine." + +He filled her glass, and left the decanter with her. She resumed. + +"One day, when I was with Maude, in that last illness of hers in London, +when we couldn't find out what was the matter with her, poor dear, she +wrote you a letter; and I know what was in it, for I read it. You had +gone dancing off somewhere for a week." + +"To the Isle of Wight, on your account," put in Lord Hartledon, quietly; +"on that unhappy business connected with your son who lives there. Well, +ma'am?" + +"In that letter Maude said she wished me to have charge of her children, +if she died; and begged you to take notice that she said it," continued +the dowager. "Perhaps you'll say you never had that letter?" + +"On the contrary, madam, I admit receiving it," he replied. "I daresay I +have it still. Most of Maude's letters lie in my desk undisturbed." + +"And, admitting that, you refuse to act up to it?" + +"Maude wrote in a moment of pique, when she was angry with me. But--" + +"And I have no doubt she had good cause for anger!" + +"She had great cause," was his answer, spoken with a strange sadness that +surprised both the dowager and Lady Hartledon. Thomas Carr was twirling +his wine-glass gently round on the white cloth, neither speaking nor +looking. + +"Later, my wife fully retracted what she said in that letter," continued +Val. "She confessed that she had written it partly at your dictation, +Lady Kirton, and said--but I had better not tell you that, perhaps." + +"Then you shall tell me, Lord Hartledon; and you are a two-faced man, if +you shuffle out of it." + +"Very well. Maude said that she would not for the whole world allow her +children to be brought up by you; she warned me also not to allow you to +obtain too much influence over them." + +"It's false!" said the dowager, in no way disconcerted. + +"It is perfectly true: and Maude told me you knew what her sentiments +were upon the point. Her real wish, as expressed to me, was, that the +children should remain with me in any case, in their proper home." + +"You say you have that other letter still?" cried the dowager, who was +not always very clear in her conversation. + +"No doubt." + +"Then perhaps you'll look for it: and read over her wishes in black and +white." + +"To what end? It would make no difference in my decision. I tell you, +ma'am, I am consulting Maude's wishes in keeping her child at home." + +"I know better," retorted the dowager, completely losing her temper. "I +wish your poor dear wife could rise from her grave and confute you. It's +all stinginess; because you won't part with a paltry bit of money." + +"No," said Val, "it's because I won't part with my child. Understand me, +Lady Kirton--had Maude's wishes even been with you in this, I should not +carry them out. As to money--I may have something to say to you on that +score; but suppose we postpone it to a more fitting opportunity." + +"You wouldn't carry them out!" she cried. "But you might be forced to, +you mean man! That letter may be as good as a will in the eyes of the +law. You daren't produce it; that's what it is." + +"I'll give it you with pleasure," said Val, with a smile. "That is, if +I have kept it. I am not sure." + +She caught up her fan, and sat fanning herself. The reservation had +suggested a meaning never intended to her crafty mind; her rebellious +son-in-law meant to destroy the letter; and she began wondering how she +could outwit him. + +A sharp cry outside the door interrupted them. The children were only +coming in to dessert now; and Reginald, taking a flying leap down the +stairs, took rather too long a one, and came to grief at the bottom. +Truth to say, the young gentleman, no longer kept down by poor Edward, +was getting high-spirited and venturesome. + +"What's that?" asked Anne, as the nurse came in with them, scolding. + +"Lord Elster fell down, my lady. He's getting as tiresome as can be. Only +to-day, I caught him astride the kitchen banisters, going to slide down +them." + +"Oh, Regy," said his mother, holding up her reproving finger. + +The boy laughed, and came forward rubbing his arm, and ashamed of his +tears. Val caught him up and kissed them away, drawing Maude also to his +side. + +That letter! The dowager was determined to get it, if there was a +possibility of doing so. A suspicion that she would not be tolerated much +longer in Lady Hartledon's house was upon her, and she knew not where to +go. Kirton had married again; and his new wife had fairly turned her out +more unceremoniously than the late one did. By hook or by crook, she +meant to obtain the guardianship of her granddaughter, because in giving +her Maude, Lord Hartledon would have to allow her an income. + +She was a woman to stop at nothing; and upon quitting the dining-room she +betook herself to the library--a large, magnificent room--the pride of +Hartledon. She had come in search of Val's desk; which she found, and +proceeded to devise means of opening it. That accomplished, she sat +herself down, like a leisurely housebreaker, to examine it, putting on a +pair of spectacles, which she kept surreptitiously in a pocket, and would +not have worn before any one for the world. She found the letter she was +in search of; and she found something else for her pains, which she had +not bargained for. + +Not just at first. There were many tempting odds and ends of things to +dip into. For one thing, she found Val's banking book, and some old +cheque-books; they served her for some time. Next she came upon two +packets sealed up in white paper, with Val's own seal. On one was +written, "Letters of Lady Maude;" on the other, "Letters of my dear +Anne." Peering further into the desk, she came upon an obscure inner +slide, which had evidently not been opened for years, and she had +difficulty in undoing it. A paper was in it, superscribed, "Concerning +A.W.;" on opening which she found a letter addressed to Thomas Carr, of +the Temple. + +Thomas Carr's letters were no more sacred with her than Lord Hartledon's. +No woman living was troubled with scruples so little as she. It proved to +have been written by a Dr. Mair, in Scotland, and was dated several years +back. + +But now--did Lord Hartledon really know he had that dangerous letter by +him? If so, what could have possessed him to preserve it? Or, did he not +rather believe he had returned it to Mr. Carr at the time? The latter, +indeed, proved to be the case; and never, to the end of his life, would +he, in one sense, forgive his own carelessness. + +Who was A.W.? thought the curious old woman, as she drew the light nearer +to her, and began the tempting perusal, making the most of the little +time left. They could not be at tea yet, and she had told Lady Hartledon +she was going to take her nap in her own room. The gratification of +rummaging false Val's desk was an ample compensation; and the +countess-dowager hugged herself with delight. + +But what was this she had come upon--this paper "concerning A. W."? The +dowager's mouth fell as she read; and gradually her little eyes opened as +if they would start from their sockets, and her face grew white. Have you +ever watched the livid pallor of fear struggling to one of these painted +faces? She dashed off her spectacles; she got up and wrung her hands; +she executed a frantic war-dance; and finally she tore, with the letter, +into the drawing-room, where Val and Anne and Thomas Carr were beginning +tea and talking quietly. + +They rose in consternation as she danced in amongst them, and held out +the letter to Lord Hartledon. + +He took it from her, gazing in utter bewilderment as he gathered in its +contents. Was it a fresh letter, or--his face became whiter than the +dowager's. In her reckless passion she avowed what she had done--the +letter was secreted in his desk. + +"Have you dared to visit my desk?" he gasped--"break my seals? Are you +mad?" + +"Hark at him!" she cried. "He calls me to account for just lifting the +lid of a desk! But what is he? A villain--a thief--a spy--a murderer--and +worse than any of them! Ah, ha, my lady!" nodding her false front at +Lady Hartledon, who stood as one petrified, "you stare there at me with +your open eyes; but you don't know what you are! Ask _him_! What was +Maude--Heaven help her--my poor Maude? What was she? And _you_ in the +plot; you vile Carr! I'll have you all hanged together!" + +Lord Hartledon caught his wife's hand. + +"Carr, stay here with her and tell her all. No good concealing anything +now she has read this letter. Tell her for me, for she would never listen +to me." + +He drew his wife into an adjoining room, the one where the portrait of +George Elster looked down on its guests. The time for disclosing the +story to his wife had been somewhat forestalled. He would have given half +his life that it had never reached that other woman, miserable old sinner +though she was. + +"You are trembling, Anne; you need not do so. It is not against you that +I have sinned." + +Yes, she was trembling very much. And Val, in his honourable, his +refined, shrinking nature, would have given his life's other half not +to have had the tale to tell. + +It is not a pleasant one. You may skip it if you please, and go on to the +last page. Val once said he had been more sinned against than sinning: it +may be deemed that in that opinion he was too lenient to himself. Anne, +his wife, listened with averted face and incredulous ears. + +"You have wanted a solution to my conduct, Anne--to the strange +preference I seemed to accord the poor boy who is gone; why I could not +punish him; why I was more thankful for the boon of his death than I had +been for his life. He was my child, but he was not Lord Elster." + +She did not understand. + +"He had no right to my name; poor little Maude has no right to it. Do you +understand me now?" + +Not at all; it was as though he were talking Greek to her. + +"Their mother, when they were born, was not my wife." + +"Their mother was Lady Maude Kirton," she rejoined, in her bewilderment. + +"That is exactly where it was," he answered bitterly. "Lady Maude Kirton, +not Lady Hartledon." + +She could not comprehend the words; her mind was full of consternation +and tumult. Back went her thoughts to the past. + +"Oh, Val! I remember papa's saying that a marriage in that unused chapel +was only three parts legal!" + +"It was legal enough, Anne: legal enough. But when that ceremony took +place"--his voice dropped to a miserable whisper, "I had--as they tell +me--a wife living." + +Slowly she admitted the meaning of the words; and would have started from +him with a faint cry, but that he held her to him. + +"Listen to the whole, Anne, before you judge me. What has been your +promise to me, over and over again?--that, if I would tell you my sorrow, +_you_ would never shrink from me, whatever it might be." + +She remembered it, and stood still; terribly rebellious, clasping her +fingers to pain, one within the other. + +"In that respect, at any rate, I did not willingly sin. When I married +Maude I had no suspicion that I was not free as air; free to marry her, +or any other woman in the world." + +"You speak in enigmas," she said faintly. + +"Sit down, Anne, whilst I give you the substance of the tale. Not its +details until I am more myself, and that voice"--pointing to the next +room--"is not sounding in my ears. You shall hear all later; at least, as +much as I know myself; I have never quite believed in it, and it has been +to me throughout as a horrible dream." + +Indeed Mr. Carr seemed to be having no inconsiderable amount of trouble, +to judge by the explosions of wrath on the part of the dowager. + +She sat down as he told her, her face turned from him, rebellious +at having to listen, but curious yet. Lord Hartledon stood by the +mantelpiece and shaded his eyes with his hand. + +"Send your thoughts into the past, Anne; you may remember that an +accident happened to me in Scotland. It was before you and I were +engaged, or it would not have happened. Or, let me say, it might not; +for young men are reckless, and I was no better than others. Heaven have +mercy on their follies!" + +"The accident might not have happened?" + +"I do not speak of the accident. I mean what followed. When out shooting +I nearly blew off my arm. I was carried to the nearest medical man's, a +Dr. Mair's, and remained there; for it was not thought safe to move me; +they feared inflammation, and they feared locked-jaw. My father was +written to, and came; and when he left after the danger was over he made +arrangements with Dr. Mair to keep me on, for he was a skilful man, and +wished to perfect the cure. I thought the prolonged stay in the strange, +quiet house worse than all the rest. That feeling wore off; we grow +reconciled to most conditions; and things became more tolerable as I grew +better and joined the household. There was a wild, clever, random young +man staying there, the doctor's assistant--George Gordon; and there was +also a young girl, Agnes Waterlow. I used to wonder what this Agnes did +there, and one day asked the old housekeeper; she said the young lady was +there partly that the doctor might watch her health, partly because she +was a relative of his late wife's, and had no home." + +He paused, as if in thought, but soon continued. + +"We grew very intimate; I, Gordon, and Miss Waterlow. Neither of them was +the person I should have chosen for an intimacy; but there was, in a +sense, no help for it, living together. Agnes was a wild, free, rather +coarse-natured girl, and Gordon drank. That she fell in love with me +there's no doubt--and I grew to like her quite well enough to talk +nonsense to her. Whether any plot was laid between her and Gordon to +entrap me, or whether what happened arose in the recklessness of the +moment, I cannot decide to this hour. It was on my twenty-first birthday; +I was almost well again; we had what the doctor called a dinner, Gordon a +jollification, and Agnes a supper. It was late when we sat down to it, +eight o'clock; and there was a good deal of feasting and plenty of wine. +The doctor was called out afterwards to a patient several miles distant, +and George Gordon made some punch; which rendered none of our heads the +steadier. At least I can answer for mine: I was weak with the long +illness, and not much of a drinker at any time. There was a great deal of +nonsense going on, and Gordon pretended to marry me to Agnes. He said or +read (I can't tell which, and never knew then) some words mockingly out +of the prayer-book, and said we were man and wife. Whilst we were all +laughing at the joke, the doctor's old housekeeper came in, to see what +the noise was about, and I, by way of keeping it up, took Agnes by the +hand, and introduced her as Mrs. Elster. I did not understand the woman's +look of astonishment then; unfortunately, I have understood it too well +since." + +Anne was growing painfully interested. + +"Well, after that she threw herself upon me in a manner that--that was +extraordinary to me, not having the key to it; and I--lost my head. Don't +frown, Anne; ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have lost theirs; and +you'll say so if ever I give you the details. Of course blame attached to +me; to me, and not to her. Though at the time I mentally gave her, I +assure you, her full share, somewhat after the manner of the Pharisee +condemning the publican. That also has come home to me: she believed +herself to be legally my wife; I never gave a thought to that evening's +farce, and should have supposed its bearing any meaning a simple +impossibility. + +"A short time, and letters summoned me home; my mother was dangerously +ill. I remember Agnes asked me to take her with me, and I laughed at her. +I arranged to write to her, and promised to go back shortly--which, to +tell you the truth, I never meant to do. Having been mistaking her, +mistaking her still, I really thought her worthy of very little +consideration. Before I had been at home a fortnight I received a letter +from Dr. Mair, telling me that Agnes was showing symptoms of insanity, +and asking what provision I purposed making for her. My sin was finding +me out; I wondered how _he_ had found it out; I did not ask, and did not +know for years. I wrote back saying I would willingly take all expenses +upon myself; and inquired what sum would be required by the asylum--to +which he said she must be sent. He mentioned two hundred a-year, and from +that time I paid it regularly." + +"And was she really insane?" interrupted Lady Hartledon. + +"Yes; she had been so once or twice before--and this was what the +housekeeper had meant by saying she was with the doctor that her health +might be watched. It appeared that when these symptoms came on, after I +left, Gordon took upon himself to disclose to the doctor that Agnes was +married to me, telling the circumstances as they had occurred. Dr. Mair +got frightened: it was no light matter for the son of an English peer to +have been deluded into marriage with an obscure and insane girl; and the +quarrel that took place between him and Gordon on the occasion resulted +in the latter's leaving. I have never understood Gordon's conduct in the +matter: very disagreeable thoughts in regard to it come over me +sometimes." + +"What thoughts?" + +"Oh, never mind; they can never be set at rest now. Let me make short +work of this story. I heard no more and thought no more; and the years +went on, and then came my marriage with Maude. We went to Paris--_you_ +cannot have forgotten any of the details of that period, Anne; and after +our return to London I was surprised by a visit from Dr. Mair. That +evening, that visit and its details stamped themselves on my memory for +ever in characters of living fire." + +He paused for a moment, and something like a shiver seized him. Anne said +nothing. + +"Maude had gone with some friends to a fete at Chiswick, and Thomas Carr +was dining with me. Hedges came in and said a gentleman wanted to see +me--_would_ see me, and would not be denied. I went to him, and found it +was Dr. Mair. In that interview I learnt that by the laws of Scotland +Miss Waterlow was my wife." + +"And the suspicion that she was so had never occurred to you before?" + +"Anne! Should I have been capable of marrying Maude, or any one else, if +it had? On my solemn word of honour, before Heaven"--he raised his right +hand as if to give effect to his words--"such a thought had never crossed +my brain. The evening that the nonsense took place I only regarded it as +a jest, a pastime--what you will: had any one told me it was a marriage I +should have laughed at them. I knew nothing then of the laws of Scotland, +and should have thought it simply impossible that that minute's folly, +and my calling her, to keep up the joke, Mrs. Elster, could have +constituted a marriage. I think they all played a deep part, even Agnes. +Not a soul had so much as hinted at the word 'marriage' to me after that +evening; neither Gordon, nor she, nor Dr. Mair in his subsequent +correspondence; and in that he always called her 'Agnes.' However--he +then told me that she was certainly my legal wife, and that Lady Maude +was not. + +"At first," continued Val, "I did not believe it; but Dr. Mair persisted +he was right, and the horror of the situation grew upon me. I told all to +Carr, and took him up to Dr. Mair. They discussed Scottish law and +consulted law-books; and the truth, so far, became apparent. Dr. Mair was +sorry for me; he saw I had not erred knowingly in marrying Maude. As to +myself, I was helpless, prostrated. I asked the doctor, if it were really +true, why the fact had been kept from me: he replied that he supposed I +knew it, and that delicacy alone had caused him to abstain from alluding +to it in his letters. He had been very angry when Gordon told him, he +said; grew half frightened as to consequences; feared he should get into +trouble for allowing me to be so entrapped in his house; and he and +Gordon parted at once. And then Dr. Mair asked a question which I could +not very well answer, why, if I did not know she was my wife, I had paid +so large a sum for Agnes. He had been burying the affair in silence, as +he had assumed I was doing; and it was only the announcement of my +marriage with Maude in the newspapers that aroused him. He had thought +I was acting this bad part deliberately; and he went off at once to +Hartledon in anger; found I had gone abroad; and now came to me on my +return, still in anger, saying at first that he should proceed against +me, and obtain justice for Agnes. When he found how utterly ignorant of +wrong I had been, his tone changed; he was truly grieved and concerned +for me. Nothing was decided: except that Dr. Mair, in his compassion +towards Lady Maude, promised not to be the first to take legal steps. +It seemed that there was only him to fear: George Gordon was reported +to have gone to Australia; the old housekeeper was dead; Agnes was +deranged. Dr. Mair left, and Carr and I sat on till midnight. Carr took +what I thought a harsh view of the matter; he urged me to separate from +Maude--" + +"I think you should have done so for her sake," came the gentle +interruption. + +"For her sake! the words Carr used. But, Anne, surely there were two +sides to the question. If I disclosed the facts, and put her away from +me, what was she? Besides, the law might be against me--Scotland's +iniquitous law; but in Heaven's sight _Maude_ was my wife, not the other. +So I temporized, hoping that time might bring about a relief, for Dr. +Mair told me that Miss Waterlow's health was failing. However, she +lived on, and--" + +Lady Hartledon started up, her face blanching. + +"Is she not dead now? Was she living when you married me? Am _I_ your +wife?" + +He could hardly help smiling. His calm touch reassured her. + +"Do you think you need ask, Anne? The next year Dr. Mair called upon me +again--it was the evening before the boy was christened; he had come to +London on business of his own. To my dismay, he told me that a change for +the better was appearing in Miss Waterlow's mental condition; and he +thought it likely she might be restored to health. Of course, it +increased the perplexities and my horror, had that been needed; but the +hope or fear, or what you like to call it, was not borne out. Three years +later, the doctor came to me for the third and final time, to bring me +the news that Agnes was dead." + +As the relief had been to him then, so did it almost seem now to Anne. A +sigh of infinite pain broke from her. She had not seen where all this was +tending. + +"Imagine, if you can, what it was for me all those years with the +knowledge daily and nightly upon me that the disgraceful truth might at +any moment come out to Maude--to her children, to the world! Living in +the dread of arrest myself, should the man Gordon show himself on the +scene! And now you see what it is that has marred my peace, and broken +the happiness of our married life. How could I bear to cross those two +deeply-injured children, who were ever rising up in judgment against me? +How take our children's part against them, little unconscious things? It +seemed that I had always, daily, hourly, some wrong to make up to them. +The poor boy was heir to Hartledon in the eyes of the world; but, Anne, +your boy was the true heir." + +"Why did you not tell me?--all this time!" + +"I could not. I dared not. You might not have liked to put Reginald out +of his rights." + +"Oh, Percival; how can you so misjudge me?" she asked, in tones of pain. +"I would have guarded the secret as jealously as you. I must still do it +for Maude." + +"Poor Maude!" he sighed. "Her mother forgave me before she died--" + +"She knew it, then?" + +"Yes. She learned--" + +Sounds of drumming on the door, and the countess-dowager's voice, stopped +Lord Hartledon. + +"I had better face her," he said, as he unlocked it. "She will arouse the +household." + +Wild, intemperate, she met him with a volley of abuse that startled Lady +Hartledon. He got her to a sofa, and gently held her down there. + +"It's what I've been obliged to do all along," said Thomas Carr; "I don't +believe she has heard ten words of my explanation." + +"Pray be calm, Lady Kirton," said Hartledon, soothingly; "be calm, as you +value your daughter's memory. We shall have the servants at the doors." + +"I won't be calm; I will know the worst." + +"I wish you to know it; but not others." + +"Was Maude your wife?" + +"No," he answered, in low tones. "Not--" + +"And you are not ashamed to confess it?" she interrupted, not allowing +him to continue. But she was a little calmer in manner; and Val stood +upright before her with folded arms. + +"I am ashamed and grieved to confess it; but I did not knowingly inflict +the injury. In Scotland--" + +"Don't repeat the shameful tale," she cried; "I have heard from your +confederate, Carr, as much as I want to hear. What do you deserve for +your treachery to Maude?" + +"All I have reaped--and more. But it was not intentional treachery; and +Maude forgave me before she died." + +"She knew it! You told her? Oh, you cruel monster!" + +"I did not tell her. She did as you have just done--interfered in what +did not concern her, in direct disobedience to my desire; and she found +it out for herself, as you, ma'am, have found it out." + +"When?" + +"The winter before her death." + +"Then the knowledge killed her!" + +"No. Something else killed her, as you know. It preyed upon her spirits." + +"Lord Hartledon, I can have you up for fraud and forgery, and I'll do it. +It will be the consideration of Maude's fame against your punishment, and +I'll make a sacrifice to revenge, and prosecute you." + +"There is no fraud where an offence is committed unwittingly," returned +Lord Hartledon; "and forgery is certainly not amongst my catalogue of +sins." + +"You are liable for both," suddenly retorted the dowager; "you have stuck +up 'Maude, Countess of Hartledon,' on her monument in the church; and +what's that but fraud and forgery?" + +"It is neither. If Maude did not live Countess of Hartledon, she at least +so went to her grave. We were remarried, privately, before she died. Mr. +Carr can tell you so." + +"It's false!" raved the dowager. + +"I arranged it, ma'am," interposed Mr. Carr. "Lord Hartledon and your +daughter confided the management to me, and the ceremony was performed in +secrecy in London" + +The dowager looked from one to the other, as if she were bewildered. + +"Married her again! why, that was making bad worse. Two false marriages! +Did you do it to impose upon her?" + +"I see you do not understand," said Lord Hartledon. "The--my--the person +in Scotland was dead then. She was dead, I am thankful to say, before +Maude knew anything of the affair." + +Up started the dowager. "Then is the woman dead now? was she dead when +you married _her_?" laying her hand upon Lady Hartledon's arm. "Are her +children different from Maude's?" + +"They are. It could not be otherwise." + +"Her boy is really Lord Elster?" + +She flung Lady Hartledon's arm from her. Her voice rose to a shriek. + +"Maude is not Lady Maude?" + +Val shook his head sadly. + +"And your children are lords and ladies and honourables," darting a look +of consternation at Anne, "whilst my daughter's--" + +"Peace, Lady Kirton!" sternly interrupted Val. "Let the child, Maude, be +Lady Maude still to the world; let your daughter's memory be held sacred. +The facts need never come out: I do not fear now that they ever will. I +and my wife and Thomas Carr, will guard the secret safely: take you care +to do so." + +"I wish you had been hung before you married Maude!" responded the +aggrieved dowager. + +"I wish I had," said he. + +"Ugh!" she grunted wrathfully, the ready assent not pleasing her. + +"With my poor boy's death the chief difficulty has passed away. How +things would have turned out, or what would have been done, had he lived, +it has well-nigh worn away my brain to dwell upon. Carr knows that it has +nearly killed me: my wife knows it." + +"Yes, you could tell her things, and keep the diabolical secret from poor +Maude and from me," she returned, rather inconsistently. "I don't doubt +you and your wife have exulted enough over it." + +"I never knew it until to-night," said Anne, gently turning to the +dowager. "It has grieved me deeply. I shall never cease to feel for your +daughter's wrongs; and it will only make me more tender and loving to her +child. The world will never know that she is not Lady Maude." + +"And the other name--Elster--because you know she has no right to it," +was the spiteful retort. "I wish to my heart you had been drowned in your +brother's place, Lord Hartledon; I wished it at the time." + +"I know you did." + +"You could not then have made fools of me and my dear daughter; and the +darling little cherub in the churchyard would have been the real heir. +There'd have been a good riddance of you." + +"It might have been better for me in the long run," said he, quietly, +passing over the inconsistencies of her speech. "Little peace or +happiness have I had in living. Do not let us recriminate, Lady Kirton, +or on some scores I might reproach you. Maude loved my brother, and you +knew it; I loved Miss Ashton, and you knew that; yet from the very hour +the breath was out of my brother's body you laid your plans and began +your schemes upon me. I was weak as water in your hands, and fell into +the snare. The marriage was your work entirely; and in the fruits it has +brought forth there might arise a nice question, Lady Kirton, which of us +is most to blame: I, who erred unwittingly, or you who--" + +"Will you have done?" she cried. + +"I have nearly done. I only wish you to remember that others may have +been wrong, as well as myself. Dr. Ashton warned us that night that the +marriage might not bring a blessing. Anne, it was a cruel wrong upon +you," he added, impulsively turning to her; "you felt it bitterly, I +shamefully; but, my dear wife, you have lived to see that it was in +reality a mercy in disguise." + +The countess-dowager, not finding words strong enough to express her +feelings at this, made a grimace at him. + +"Let us be friends, Lady Kirton! Let us join together silently in +guarding Maude's good name, and in burying the past. In time perhaps even +I may live it down. Not a human being knows of it except we who are here +and Dr. Mair, who will for his own sake guard the secret. Maude was my +wife always in the eyes of the world; and Maude certainly died so: all +peace and respect to her memory! As for my share, retribution has held +its heavy hand upon me; it is upon me still, Heaven knows. It was for +Maude I suffered; for Maude I felt; and if my life could have repaired +the wrong upon her, I would willingly have sacrificed it. Let us be +friends: it may be to the interest of both." + +He held out his hand, and the dowager did not repulse it. She had caught +the word "interest." + +"_Now_ you might allow me Maude and that income!" + +"I think I had better allow you the income without Maude." + +"Eh? what?" cried the dowager, briskly. "Do you mean it?" + +"Indeed I do. I have been thinking for some little time that you would be +more comfortable in a home of your own, and I am willing to help you to +one. I'll pay the rent of a nice little place in Ireland, and give you +six hundred a-year, paid quarterly, and--yes--make you a yearly present +of ten dozen of port wine." + +Ah, the crafty man! The last item had a golden sound in it. + +"Honour bright, Hartledon?" + +"Honour bright! You shall never want for anything as long as you live. +But you must not"--he seemed to search for his words--"you must undertake +not to come here, upsetting and indulging the children." + +"I'll undertake it. Good vintage, mind." + +"The same that you have here." + +The countess-dowager beamed. In the midst of her happiness--and it was +what she had not felt for many a long day, for really the poor old +creature had been put about sadly--she bethought herself of propriety. +Melting into tears, she presently bewailed her exhaustion, and said she +should like some tea: perhaps good Mr. Carr would bring her a teaspoonful +of brandy to put into it. + +They brought her hot tea, and Mr. Carr put the brandy into it, and +Anne took it to her on the sofa, and administered it, her own tears +overflowing. She was thinking what an awful blow this would have been +to her own mother. + +"Little Maude shall be very dear to me always, Val," she whispered. "This +knowledge will make me doubly tender with her." + +He laid his hand fondly upon her, giving her one of his sweet sad smiles +in answer. She could at length understand what feelings, in regard to the +children, had actuated him. But from henceforth he would be just to all +alike; and Maude would receive her share of correction for her own good. + +"I always said you did not give me back the letter," observed Mr. Carr, +when they were alone together later, and Val sat tearing up the letter +into innumerable bits. + +"And I said I did, simply because I could not find it. You were right, +Carr, as you always are." + +"Not always. But I am sorry it came to light in this way." + +"Sorry! it is the greatest boon that could have fallen on me. The secret +is, so to say, off my mind now, and I can breathe as I have not breathed +for years. If ever a heartfelt thanksgiving went up to Heaven one from me +will ascend to-night. And the dowager does not feel the past a bit. She +cared no more for Maude than for any one else. She can't care for any +one. Don't think me harsh, Carr, in saying so." + +"I am sure she does not feel it," emphatically assented Mr. Carr. "Had +she felt it she would have been less noisy. Thank heaven for your sake, +Hartledon, that the miserable past is over." + +"And over more happily than I deserved." + +A silence ensued, and Lord Hartledon flung the bits of paper carefully +into the fire. Presently he looked up, a strange earnestness in his face. + +"It is the custom of some of our cottagers here to hang up embossed cards +at the foot of their bed, with texts of Scripture written on them. There +is one verse I should like to hang before every son of mine, though I had +ten of them, that it might meet their eyes last ere the evening's +sleeping, in the morning's first awakening. The ninth verse of the +eleventh chapter of Ecclesiastes." + +"I don't remember," observed Thomas Carr, after a pause of thought. + +"'Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth: and let thy heart cheer thee in the +days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight +of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring +thee into judgment.'" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Elster's Folly, by Mrs. Henry Wood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSTER'S FOLLY *** + +***** This file should be named 16798.txt or 16798.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/9/16798/ + +Produced by Michael Ciesielski, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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