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diff --git a/3049-h/3049-h.htm b/3049-h/3049-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d064723 --- /dev/null +++ b/3049-h/3049-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7787 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>A Group of Noble Dames</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + TD { vertical-align: top; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">A Group of Noble Dames, by Thomas Hardy</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Group of Noble Dames, by Thomas Hardy + + +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: A Group of Noble Dames + + +Author: Thomas Hardy + + + +Release Date: May 17, 2007 [eBook #3049] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GROUP OF NOBLE DAMES*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>A GROUP OF NOBLE DAMES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">that is to +say</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">THE FIRST COUNTESS OF WESSEX<br /> +BARBARA OF THE HOSE OF GREBE<br /> +THE MARCHIONESS OF STONEHENGE,<br /> +LADY MOTTIFONT SQUIRE PETRICK’S LADY<br /> +THE LADY ICENWAY ANNA, LADY BAXBY<br /> +THE LADY PENELOPE<br /> +THE DUCHESS OF HAMPTONSHIRE; <span class="smcap">and</span><br /> +THE HONOURABLE LAURA</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +THOMAS HARDY</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘. . . Store of +Ladies, whose bright eyes<br /> +Rain influence.’—<span +class="smcap">L’Allegro</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">with a map of +wessex</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br /> +ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON<br /> +1920</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">copyright</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>First Collected Edition</i> +1891<br /> +<i>New Edition and reprints</i> 1896-1900<br /> +<i>First published by Macmillan & Co.</i>, <i>Crown</i> 8vo, +1903<br /> +<i>Pocket Edition</i> 1907 <i>Reprinted</i> 1911, 1914, +1917, 1919, 1920</p> +<p>Contents:</p> +<p>Preface<br /> +Part I—Before Dinner<br /> + The First Countess of Wessex<br /> + Barbara of the House of Grebe<br /> + The Marchioness of Stonehenge<br /> + Lady Mottisfont<br /> +Part II—After Dinner<br /> + The Lady Icenway<br /> + Squire Petrick’s Lady<br /> + Anna, Lady Baxby<br /> + The Lady Penelope<br /> + The Duchess Of Hamptonshire<br /> + The Honourable Laura</p> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<p>The pedigrees of our county families, arranged in diagrams on +the pages of county histories, mostly appear at first sight to be +as barren of any touch of nature as a table of logarithms. +But given a clue—the faintest tradition of what went on +behind the scenes, and this dryness as of dust may be transformed +into a palpitating drama. More, the careful comparison of +dates alone—that of birth with marriage, of marriage with +death, of one marriage, birth, or death with a kindred marriage, +birth, or death—will often effect the same transformation, +and anybody practised in raising images from such genealogies +finds himself unconsciously filling into the framework the +motives, passions, and personal qualities which would appear to +be the single explanation possible of some extraordinary +conjunction in times, events, and personages that occasionally +marks these reticent family records.</p> +<p>Out of such pedigrees and supplementary material most of the +following stories have arisen and taken shape.</p> +<p>I would make this preface an opportunity of expressing my +sense of the courtesy and kindness of several bright-eyed Noble +Dames yet in the flesh, who, since the first publication of these +tales in periodicals, six or seven years ago, have given me +interesting comments and conjectures on such of the narratives as +they have recognized to be connected with their own families, +residences, or traditions; in which they have shown a truly +philosophic absence of prejudice in their regard of those +incidents whose relation has tended more distinctly to dramatize +than to eulogize their ancestors. The outlines they have +also given of other singular events in their family histories for +use in a second “Group of Noble Dames,” will, I fear, +never reach the printing-press through me; but I shall store them +up in memory of my informants’ good nature.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">T. H.</p> +<p><i>June</i> 1896.</p> +<h2>DAME THE FIRST—THE FIRST COUNTESS OF WESSEX<br /> +By the Local Historian</h2> +<p>King’s-Hintock Court (said the narrator, turning over +his memoranda for reference)—King’s-Hintock Court is, +as we know, one of the most imposing of the mansions that +overlook our beautiful Blackmoor or Blakemore Vale. On the +particular occasion of which I have to speak this building stood, +as it had often stood before, in the perfect silence of a calm +clear night, lighted only by the cold shine of the stars. +The season was winter, in days long ago, the last century having +run but little more than a third of its length. North, +south, and west, not a casement was unfastened, not a curtain +undrawn; eastward, one window on the upper floor was open, and a +girl of twelve or thirteen was leaning over the sill. That +she had not taken up the position for purposes of observation was +apparent at a glance, for she kept her eyes covered with her +hands.</p> +<p>The room occupied by the girl was an inner one of a suite, to +be reached only by passing through a large bedchamber +adjoining. From this apartment voices in altercation were +audible, everything else in the building being so still. It +was to avoid listening to these voices that the girl had left her +little cot, thrown a cloak round her head and shoulders, and +stretched into the night air.</p> +<p>But she could not escape the conversation, try as she +would. The words reached her in all their painfulness, one +sentence in masculine tones, those of her father, being repeated +many times.</p> +<p>‘I tell ’ee there shall be no such +betrothal! I tell ’ee there +sha’n’t! A child like her!’</p> +<p>She knew the subject of dispute to be herself. A cool +feminine voice, her mother’s, replied:</p> +<p>‘Have done with you, and be wise. He is willing to +wait a good five or six years before the marriage takes place, +and there’s not a man in the county to compare with +him.’</p> +<p>‘It shall not be! He is over thirty. It is +wickedness.’</p> +<p>‘He is just thirty, and the best and finest man +alive—a perfect match for her.’</p> +<p>‘He is poor!’</p> +<p>‘But his father and elder brothers are made much of at +Court—none so constantly at the palace as they; and with +her fortune, who knows? He may be able to get a +barony.’</p> +<p>‘I believe you are in love with en yourself!’</p> +<p>‘How can you insult me so, Thomas! And is it not +monstrous for you to talk of my wickedness when you have a like +scheme in your own head? You know you have. Some +bumpkin of your own choosing—some petty gentleman who lives +down at that outlandish place of yours, Falls-Park—one of +your pot-companions’ sons—’</p> +<p>There was an outburst of imprecation on the part of her +husband in lieu of further argument. As soon as he could +utter a connected sentence he said: ‘You crow and you +domineer, mistress, because you are heiress-general here. +You are in your own house; you are on your own land. But +let me tell ’ee that if I did come here to you instead of +taking you to me, it was done at the dictates of convenience +merely. H---! I’m no beggar! +Ha’n’t I a place of my own? Ha’n’t +I an avenue as long as thine? Ha’n’t I beeches +that will more than match thy oaks? I should have lived in +my own quiet house and land, contented, if you had not called me +off with your airs and graces. Faith, I’ll go back +there; I’ll not stay with thee longer! If it had not +been for our Betty I should have gone long ago!’</p> +<p>After this there were no more words; but presently, hearing +the sound of a door opening and shutting below, the girl again +looked from the window. Footsteps crunched on the +gravel-walk, and a shape in a drab greatcoat, easily +distinguishable as her father, withdrew from the house. He +moved to the left, and she watched him diminish down the long +east front till he had turned the corner and vanished. He +must have gone round to the stables.</p> +<p>She closed the window and shrank into bed, where she cried +herself to sleep. This child, their only one, Betty, +beloved ambitiously by her mother, and with uncalculating +passionateness by her father, was frequently made wretched by +such episodes as this; though she was too young to care very +deeply, for her own sake, whether her mother betrothed her to the +gentleman discussed or not.</p> +<p>The Squire had often gone out of the house in this manner, +declaring that he would never return, but he had always +reappeared in the morning. The present occasion, however, +was different in the issue: next day she was told that her father +had ridden to his estate at Falls-Park early in the morning on +business with his agent, and might not come back for some +days.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Falls-Park was over twenty miles from King’s-Hintock +Court, and was altogether a more modest centre-piece to a more +modest possession than the latter. But as Squire Dornell +came in view of it that February morning, he thought that he had +been a fool ever to leave it, though it was for the sake of the +greatest heiress in Wessex. Its classic front, of the +period of the second Charles, derived from its regular features a +dignity which the great, battlemented, heterogeneous mansion of +his wife could not eclipse. Altogether he was sick at +heart, and the gloom which the densely-timbered park threw over +the scene did not tend to remove the depression of this rubicund +man of eight-and-forty, who sat so heavily upon his +gelding. The child, his darling Betty: there lay the root +of his trouble. He was unhappy when near his wife, he was +unhappy when away from his little girl; and from this dilemma +there was no practicable escape. As a consequence he +indulged rather freely in the pleasures of the table, became what +was called a three bottle man, and, in his wife’s +estimation, less and less presentable to her polite friends from +town.</p> +<p>He was received by the two or three old servants who were in +charge of the lonely place, where a few rooms only were kept +habitable for his use or that of his friends when hunting; and +during the morning he was made more comfortable by the arrival of +his faithful servant Tupcombe from King’s-Hintock. +But after a day or two spent here in solitude he began to feel +that he had made a mistake in coming. By leaving +King’s-Hintock in his anger he had thrown away his best +opportunity of counteracting his wife’s preposterous notion +of promising his poor little Betty’s hand to a man she had +hardly seen. To protect her from such a repugnant bargain +he should have remained on the spot. He felt it almost as a +misfortune that the child would inherit so much wealth. She +would be a mark for all the adventurers in the kingdom. Had +she been only the heiress to his own unassuming little place at +Falls, how much better would have been her chances of +happiness!</p> +<p>His wife had divined truly when she insinuated that he himself +had a lover in view for this pet child. The son of a dear +deceased friend of his, who lived not two miles from where the +Squire now was, a lad a couple of years his daughter’s +senior, seemed in her father’s opinion the one person in +the world likely to make her happy. But as to breathing +such a scheme to either of the young people with the indecent +haste that his wife had shown, he would not dream of it; years +hence would be soon enough for that. They had already seen +each other, and the Squire fancied that he noticed a tenderness +on the youth’s part which promised well. He was +strongly tempted to profit by his wife’s example, and +forestall her match-making by throwing the two young people +together there at Falls. The girl, though marriageable in +the views of those days, was too young to be in love, but the lad +was fifteen, and already felt an interest in her.</p> +<p>Still better than keeping watch over her at King’s +Hintock, where she was necessarily much under her mother’s +influence, would it be to get the child to stay with him at Falls +for a time, under his exclusive control. But how accomplish +this without using main force? The only possible chance was +that his wife might, for appearance’ sake, as she had done +before, consent to Betty paying him a day’s visit, when he +might find means of detaining her till Reynard, the suitor whom +his wife favoured, had gone abroad, which he was expected to do +the following week. Squire Dornell determined to return to +King’s-Hintock and attempt the enterprise. If he were +refused, it was almost in him to pick up Betty bodily and carry +her off.</p> +<p>The journey back, vague and Quixotic as were his intentions, +was performed with a far lighter heart than his setting +forth. He would see Betty, and talk to her, come what might +of his plan.</p> +<p>So he rode along the dead level which stretches between the +hills skirting Falls-Park and those bounding the town of Ivell, +trotted through that borough, and out by the King’s-Hintock +highway, till, passing the villages he entered the mile-long +drive through the park to the Court. The drive being open, +without an avenue, the Squire could discern the north front and +door of the Court a long way off, and was himself visible from +the windows on that side; for which reason he hoped that Betty +might perceive him coming, as she sometimes did on his return +from an outing, and run to the door or wave her handkerchief.</p> +<p>But there was no sign. He inquired for his wife as soon +as he set foot to earth.</p> +<p>‘Mistress is away. She was called to London, +sir.’</p> +<p>‘And Mistress Betty?’ said the Squire blankly.</p> +<p>‘Gone likewise, sir, for a little change. Mistress +has left a letter for you.’</p> +<p>The note explained nothing, merely stating that she had posted +to London on her own affairs, and had taken the child to give her +a holiday. On the fly-leaf were some words from Betty +herself to the same effect, evidently written in a state of high +jubilation at the idea of her jaunt. Squire Dornell +murmured a few expletives, and submitted to his +disappointment. How long his wife meant to stay in town she +did not say; but on investigation he found that the carriage had +been packed with sufficient luggage for a sojourn of two or three +weeks.</p> +<p>King’s-Hintock Court was in consequence as gloomy as +Falls-Park had been. He had lost all zest for hunting of +late, and had hardly attended a meet that season. Dornell +read and re-read Betty’s scrawl, and hunted up some other +such notes of hers to look over, this seeming to be the only +pleasure there was left for him. That they were really in +London he learnt in a few days by another letter from Mrs. +Dornell, in which she explained that they hoped to be home in +about a week, and that she had had no idea he was coming back to +King’s-Hintock so soon, or she would not have gone away +without telling him.</p> +<p>Squire Dornell wondered if, in going or returning, it had been +her plan to call at the Reynards’ place near Melchester, +through which city their journey lay. It was possible that +she might do this in furtherance of her project, and the sense +that his own might become the losing game was harassing.</p> +<p>He did not know how to dispose of himself, till it occurred to +him that, to get rid of his intolerable heaviness, he would +invite some friends to dinner and drown his cares in grog and +wine. No sooner was the carouse decided upon than he put it +in hand; those invited being mostly neighbouring landholders, all +smaller men than himself, members of the hunt; also the doctor +from Evershead, and the like—some of them rollicking blades +whose presence his wife would not have countenanced had she been +at home. ‘When the cat’s away—!’ +said the Squire.</p> +<p>They arrived, and there were indications in their manner that +they meant to make a night of it. Baxby of Sherton Castle +was late, and they waited a quarter of an hour for him, he being +one of the liveliest of Dornell’s friends; without whose +presence no such dinner as this would be considered complete, +and, it may be added, with whose presence no dinner which +included both sexes could be conducted with strict +propriety. He had just returned from London, and the Squire +was anxious to talk to him—for no definite reason; but he +had lately breathed the atmosphere in which Betty was.</p> +<p>At length they heard Baxby driving up to the door, whereupon +the host and the rest of his guests crossed over to the +dining-room. In a moment Baxby came hastily in at their +heels, apologizing for his lateness.</p> +<p>‘I only came back last night, you know,’ he said; +‘and the truth o’t is, I had as much as I could +carry.’ He turned to the Squire. ‘Well, +Dornell—so cunning Reynard has stolen your little ewe +lamb? Ha, ha!’</p> +<p>‘What?’ said Squire Dornell vacantly, across the +dining-table, round which they were all standing, the cold March +sunlight streaming in upon his full-clean shaven face.</p> +<p>‘Surely th’st know what all the town +knows?—you’ve had a letter by this time?—that +Stephen Reynard has married your Betty? Yes, as I’m a +living man. It was a carefully-arranged thing: they parted +at once, and are not to meet for five or six years. But, +Lord, you must know!’</p> +<p>A thud on the floor was the only reply of the Squire. +They quickly turned. He had fallen down like a log behind +the table, and lay motionless on the oak boards.</p> +<p>Those at hand hastily bent over him, and the whole group were +in confusion. They found him to be quite unconscious, +though puffing and panting like a blacksmith’s +bellows. His face was livid, his veins swollen, and beads +of perspiration stood upon his brow.</p> +<p>‘What’s happened to him?’ said several.</p> +<p>‘An apoplectic fit,’ said the doctor from +Evershead, gravely.</p> +<p>He was only called in at the Court for small ailments, as a +rule, and felt the importance of the situation. He lifted +the Squire’s head, loosened his cravat and clothing, and +rang for the servants, who took the Squire upstairs.</p> +<p>There he lay as if in a drugged sleep. The surgeon drew +a basin-full of blood from him, but it was nearly six +o’clock before he came to himself. The dinner was +completely disorganized, and some had gone home long ago; but two +or three remained.</p> +<p>‘Bless my soul,’ Baxby kept repeating, ‘I +didn’t know things had come to this pass between Dornell +and his lady! I thought the feast he was spreading to-day +was in honour of the event, though privately kept for the +present! His little maid married without his +knowledge!’</p> +<p>As soon as the Squire recovered consciousness he gasped: +‘’Tis abduction! ’Tis a capital +felony! He can be hung! Where is Baxby? I am +very well now. What items have ye heard, Baxby?’</p> +<p>The bearer of the untoward news was extremely unwilling to +agitate Dornell further, and would say little more at +first. But an hour after, when the Squire had partially +recovered and was sitting up, Baxby told as much as he knew, the +most important particular being that Betty’s mother was +present at the marriage, and showed every mark of approval. +‘Everything appeared to have been done so regularly that I, +of course, thought you knew all about it,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘I knew no more than the underground dead that such a +step was in the wind! A child not yet thirteen! How +Sue hath outwitted me! Did Reynard go up to Lon’on +with ’em, d’ye know?’</p> +<p>‘I can’t say. All I know is that your lady +and daughter were walking along the street, with the footman +behind ’em; that they entered a jeweller’s shop, +where Reynard was standing; and that there, in the presence +o’ the shopkeeper and your man, who was called in on +purpose, your Betty said to Reynard—so the story goes: +’pon my soul I don’t vouch for the truth of +it—she said, “Will you marry me?” or, “I +want to marry you: will you have me—now or never?” +she said.’</p> +<p>‘What she said means nothing,’ murmured the +Squire, with wet eyes. ‘Her mother put the words into +her mouth to avoid the serious consequences that would attach to +any suspicion of force. The words be not the child’s: +she didn’t dream of marriage—how should she, poor +little maid! Go on.’</p> +<p>‘Well, be that as it will, they were all agreed +apparently. They bought the ring on the spot, and the +marriage took place at the nearest church within +half-an-hour.’</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>A day or two later there came a letter from Mrs. Dornell to +her husband, written before she knew of his stroke. She +related the circumstances of the marriage in the gentlest manner, +and gave cogent reasons and excuses for consenting to the +premature union, which was now an accomplished fact indeed. +She had no idea, till sudden pressure was put upon her, that the +contract was expected to be carried out so soon, but being taken +half unawares, she had consented, having learned that Stephen +Reynard, now their son-in-law, was becoming a great favourite at +Court, and that he would in all likelihood have a title granted +him before long. No harm could come to their dear daughter +by this early marriage-contract, seeing that her life would be +continued under their own eyes, exactly as before, for some +years. In fine, she had felt that no other such fair +opportunity for a good marriage with a shrewd courtier and wise +man of the world, who was at the same time noted for his +excellent personal qualities, was within the range of +probability, owing to the rusticated lives they led at +King’s-Hintock. Hence she had yielded to +Stephen’s solicitation, and hoped her husband would forgive +her. She wrote, in short, like a woman who, having had her +way as to the deed, is prepared to make any concession as to +words and subsequent behaviour.</p> +<p>All this Dornell took at its true value, or rather, perhaps, +at less than its true value. As his life depended upon his +not getting into a passion, he controlled his perturbed emotions +as well as he was able, going about the house sadly and utterly +unlike his former self. He took every precaution to prevent +his wife knowing of the incidents of his sudden illness, from a +sense of shame at having a heart so tender; a ridiculous quality, +no doubt, in her eyes, now that she had become so imbued with +town ideas. But rumours of his seizure somehow reached her, +and she let him know that she was about to return to nurse +him. He thereupon packed up and went off to his own place +at Falls-Park.</p> +<p>Here he lived the life of a recluse for some time. He +was still too unwell to entertain company, or to ride to hounds +or elsewhither; but more than this, his aversion to the faces of +strangers and acquaintances, who knew by that time of the trick +his wife had played him, operated to hold him aloof.</p> +<p>Nothing could influence him to censure Betty for her share in +the exploit. He never once believed that she had acted +voluntarily. Anxious to know how she was getting on, he +despatched the trusty servant Tupcombe to Evershead village, +close to King’s-Hintock, timing his journey so that he +should reach the place under cover of dark. The emissary +arrived without notice, being out of livery, and took a seat in +the chimney-corner of the Sow-and-Acorn.</p> +<p>The conversation of the droppers-in was always of the nine +days’ wonder—the recent marriage. The smoking +listener learnt that Mrs. Dornell and the girl had returned to +King’s-Hintock for a day or two, that Reynard had set out +for the Continent, and that Betty had since been packed off to +school. She did not realize her position as Reynard’s +child-wife—so the story went—and though somewhat +awe-stricken at first by the ceremony, she had soon recovered her +spirits on finding that her freedom was in no way to be +interfered with.</p> +<p>After that, formal messages began to pass between Dornell and +his wife, the latter being now as persistently conciliating as +she was formerly masterful. But her rustic, simple, +blustering husband still held personally aloof. Her wish to +be reconciled—to win his forgiveness for her +stratagem—moreover, a genuine tenderness and desire to +soothe his sorrow, which welled up in her at times, brought her +at last to his door at Falls-Park one day.</p> +<p>They had not met since that night of altercation, before her +departure for London and his subsequent illness. She was +shocked at the change in him. His face had become +expressionless, as blank as that of a puppet, and what troubled +her still more was that she found him living in one room, and +indulging freely in stimulants, in absolute disobedience to the +physician’s order. The fact was obvious that he could +no longer be allowed to live thus uncouthly.</p> +<p>So she sympathized, and begged his pardon, and coaxed. +But though after this date there was no longer such a complete +estrangement as before, they only occasionally saw each other, +Dornell for the most part making Falls his headquarters +still.</p> +<p>Three or four years passed thus. Then she came one day, +with more animation in her manner, and at once moved him by the +simple statement that Betty’s schooling had ended; she had +returned, and was grieved because he was away. She had sent +a message to him in these words: ‘Ask father to come home +to his dear Betty.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! Then she is very unhappy!’ said Squire +Dornell.</p> +<p>His wife was silent.</p> +<p>‘’Tis that accursed marriage!’ continued the +Squire.</p> +<p>Still his wife would not dispute with him. ‘She is +outside in the carriage,’ said Mrs. Dornell gently.</p> +<p>‘What—Betty?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Dornell +rushed out, and there was the girl awaiting his forgiveness, for +she supposed herself, no less than her mother, to be under his +displeasure.</p> +<p>Yes, Betty had left school, and had returned to +King’s-Hintock. She was nearly seventeen, and had +developed to quite a young woman. She looked not less a +member of the household for her early marriage-contract, which +she seemed, indeed, to have almost forgotten. It was like a +dream to her; that clear cold March day, the London church, with +its gorgeous pews, and green-baize linings, and the great organ +in the west gallery—so different from their own little +church in the shrubbery of King’s-Hintock Court—the +man of thirty, to whose face she had looked up with so much awe, +and with a sense that he was rather ugly and formidable; the man +whom, though they corresponded politely, she had never seen +since; one to whose existence she was now so indifferent that if +informed of his death, and that she would never see him more, she +would merely have replied, ‘Indeed!’ +Betty’s passions as yet still slept.</p> +<p>‘Hast heard from thy husband lately?’ said Squire +Dornell, when they were indoors, with an ironical laugh of +fondness which demanded no answer.</p> +<p>The girl winced, and he noticed that his wife looked +appealingly at him. As the conversation went on, and there +were signs that Dornell would express sentiments that might do +harm to a position which they could not alter, Mrs. Dornell +suggested that Betty should leave the room till her father and +herself had finished their private conversation; and this Betty +obediently did.</p> +<p>Dornell renewed his animadversions freely. ‘Did +you see how the sound of his name frightened her?’ he +presently added. ‘If you didn’t, I did. +Zounds! what a future is in store for that poor little +unfortunate wench o’ mine! I tell ’ee, Sue, +’twas not a marriage at all, in morality, and if I were a +woman in such a position, I shouldn’t feel it as one. +She might, without a sign of sin, love a man of her choice as +well now as if she were chained up to no other at all. +There, that’s my mind, and I can’t help it. Ah, +Sue, my man was best! He’d ha’ suited +her.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t believe it,’ she replied +incredulously.</p> +<p>‘You should see him; then you would. He’s +growing up a fine fellow, I can tell ’ee.’</p> +<p>‘Hush! not so loud!’ she answered, rising from her +seat and going to the door of the next room, whither her daughter +had betaken herself. To Mrs. Dornell’s alarm, there +sat Betty in a reverie, her round eyes fixed on vacancy, musing +so deeply that she did not perceive her mother’s +entrance. She had heard every word, and was digesting the +new knowledge.</p> +<p>Her mother felt that Falls-Park was dangerous ground for a +young girl of the susceptible age, and in Betty’s peculiar +position, while Dornell talked and reasoned thus. She +called Betty to her, and they took leave. The Squire would +not clearly promise to return and make King’s-Hintock Court +his permanent abode; but Betty’s presence there, as at +former times, was sufficient to make him agree to pay them a +visit soon.</p> +<p>All the way home Betty remained preoccupied and silent. +It was too plain to her anxious mother that Squire +Dornell’s free views had been a sort of awakening to the +girl.</p> +<p>The interval before Dornell redeemed his pledge to come and +see them was unexpectedly short. He arrived one morning +about twelve o’clock, driving his own pair of black-bays in +the curricle-phaeton with yellow panels and red wheels, just as +he had used to do, and his faithful old Tupcombe on horseback +behind. A young man sat beside the Squire in the carriage, +and Mrs. Dornell’s consternation could scarcely be +concealed when, abruptly entering with his companion, the Squire +announced him as his friend Phelipson of Elm-Cranlynch.</p> +<p>Dornell passed on to Betty in the background and tenderly +kissed her. ‘Sting your mother’s conscience, my +maid!’ he whispered. ‘Sting her conscience by +pretending you are struck with Phelipson, and would ha’ +loved him, as your old father’s choice, much more than him +she has forced upon ’ee.’</p> +<p>The simple-souled speaker fondly imagined that it as entirely +in obedience to this direction that Betty’s eyes stole +interested glances at the frank and impulsive Phelipson that day +at dinner, and he laughed grimly within himself to see how this +joke of his, as he imagined it to be, was disturbing the peace of +mind of the lady of the house. ‘Now Sue sees what a +mistake she has made!’ said he.</p> +<p>Mrs. Dornell was verily greatly alarmed, and as soon as she +could speak a word with him alone she upbraided him. +‘You ought not to have brought him here. Oh Thomas, +how could you be so thoughtless! Lord, don’t you see, +dear, that what is done cannot be undone, and how all this +foolery jeopardizes her happiness with her husband? Until +you interfered, and spoke in her hearing about this Phelipson, +she was as patient and as willing as a lamb, and looked forward +to Mr. Reynard’s return with real pleasure. Since her +visit to Falls-Park she has been monstrous close-mouthed and busy +with her own thoughts. What mischief will you do? How +will it end?’</p> +<p>‘Own, then, that my man was best suited to her. I +only brought him to convince you.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, yes; I do admit it. But oh! do take him back +again at once! Don’t keep him here! I fear she +is even attracted by him already.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, Sue. ’Tis only a little trick to +tease ’ee!’</p> +<p>Nevertheless her motherly eye was not so likely to be deceived +as his, and if Betty were really only playing at being +love-struck that day, she played at it with the perfection of a +Rosalind, and would have deceived the best professors into a +belief that it was no counterfeit. The Squire, having +obtained his victory, was quite ready to take back the too +attractive youth, and early in the afternoon they set out on +their return journey.</p> +<p>A silent figure who rode behind them was as interested as +Dornell in that day’s experiment. It was the staunch +Tupcombe, who, with his eyes on the Squire’s and young +Phelipson’s backs, thought how well the latter would have +suited Betty, and how greatly the former had changed for the +worse during these last two or three years. He cursed his +mistress as the cause of the change.</p> +<p>After this memorable visit to prove his point, the lives of +the Dornell couple flowed on quietly enough for the space of a +twelvemonth, the Squire for the most part remaining at Falls, and +Betty passing and repassing between them now and then, once or +twice alarming her mother by not driving home from her +father’s house till midnight.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The repose of King’s-Hintock was broken by the arrival +of a special messenger. Squire Dornell had had an access of +gout so violent as to be serious. He wished to see Betty +again: why had she not come for so long?</p> +<p>Mrs. Dornell was extremely reluctant to take Betty in that +direction too frequently; but the girl was so anxious to go, her +interests latterly seeming to be so entirely bound up in +Falls-Park and its neighbourhood, that there was nothing to be +done but to let her set out and accompany her.</p> +<p>Squire Dornell had been impatiently awaiting her +arrival. They found him very ill and irritable. It +had been his habit to take powerful medicines to drive away his +enemy, and they had failed in their effect on this occasion.</p> +<p>The presence of his daughter, as usual, calmed him much, even +while, as usual too, it saddened him; for he could never forget +that she had disposed of herself for life in opposition to his +wishes, though she had secretly assured him that she would never +have consented had she been as old as she was now.</p> +<p>As on a former occasion, his wife wished to speak to him alone +about the girl’s future, the time now drawing nigh at which +Reynard was expected to come and claim her. He would have +done so already, but he had been put off by the earnest request +of the young woman herself, which accorded with that of her +parents, on the score of her youth. Reynard had +deferentially submitted to their wishes in this respect, the +understanding between them having been that he would not visit +her before she was eighteen, except by the mutual consent of all +parties. But this could not go on much longer, and there +was no doubt, from the tenor of his last letter, that he would +soon take possession of her whether or no.</p> +<p>To be out of the sound of this delicate discussion Betty was +accordingly sent downstairs, and they soon saw her walking away +into the shrubberies, looking very pretty in her sweeping green +gown, and flapping broad-brimmed hat overhung with a feather.</p> +<p>On returning to the subject, Mrs. Dornell found her +husband’s reluctance to reply in the affirmative to +Reynard’s letter to be as great as ever.</p> +<p>‘She is three months short of eighteen!’ he +exclaimed. ‘’Tis too soon. I won’t +hear of it! If I have to keep him off sword in hand, he +shall not have her yet.’</p> +<p>‘But, my dear Thomas,’ she expostulated, +‘consider if anything should happen to you or to me, how +much better it would be that she should be settled in her home +with him!’</p> +<p>‘I say it is too soon!’ he argued, the veins of +his forehead beginning to swell. ‘If he gets her this +side o’ Candlemas I’ll challenge en—I’ll +take my oath on’t! I’ll be back to +King’s-Hintock in two or three days, and I’ll not +lose sight of her day or night!’</p> +<p>She feared to agitate him further, and gave way, assuring him, +in obedience to his demand, that if Reynard should write again +before he got back, to fix a time for joining Betty, she would +put the letter in her husband’s hands, and he should do as +he chose. This was all that required discussion privately, +and Mrs. Dornell went to call in Betty, hoping that she had not +heard her father’s loud tones.</p> +<p>She had certainly not done so this time. Mrs. Dornell +followed the path along which she had seen Betty wandering, but +went a considerable distance without perceiving anything of +her. The Squire’s wife then turned round to proceed +to the other side of the house by a short cut across the grass, +when, to her surprise and consternation, she beheld the object of +her search sitting on the horizontal bough of a cedar, beside her +being a young man, whose arm was round her waist. He moved +a little, and she recognized him as young Phelipson.</p> +<p>Alas, then, she was right. The so-called counterfeit +love was real. What Mrs. Dornell called her husband at that +moment, for his folly in originally throwing the young people +together, it is not necessary to mention. She decided in a +moment not to let the lovers know that she had seen them. +She accordingly retreated, reached the front of the house by +another route, and called at the top of her voice from a window, +‘Betty!’</p> +<p>For the first time since her strategic marriage of the child, +Susan Dornell doubted the wisdom of that step.</p> +<p>Her husband had, as it were, been assisted by destiny to make +his objection, originally trivial, a valid one. She saw the +outlines of trouble in the future. Why had Dornell +interfered? Why had he insisted upon producing his +man? This, then, accounted for Betty’s pleading for +postponement whenever the subject of her husband’s return +was broached; this accounted for her attachment to +Falls-Park. Possibly this very meeting that she had +witnessed had been arranged by letter.</p> +<p>Perhaps the girl’s thoughts would never have strayed for +a moment if her father had not filled her head with ideas of +repugnance to her early union, on the ground that she had been +coerced into it before she knew her own mind; and she might have +rushed to meet her husband with open arms on the appointed +day.</p> +<p>Betty at length appeared in the distance in answer to the +call, and came up pale, but looking innocent of having seen a +living soul. Mrs. Dornell groaned in spirit at such +duplicity in the child of her bosom. This was the simple +creature for whose development into womanhood they had all been +so tenderly waiting—a forward minx, old enough not only to +have a lover, but to conceal his existence as adroitly as any +woman of the world! Bitterly did the Squire’s lady +regret that Stephen Reynard had not been allowed to come to claim +her at the time he first proposed.</p> +<p>The two sat beside each other almost in silence on their +journey back to King’s-Hintock. Such words as were +spoken came mainly from Betty, and their formality indicated how +much her mind and heart were occupied with other things.</p> +<p>Mrs. Dornell was far too astute a mother to openly attack +Betty on the matter. That would be only fanning +flame. The indispensable course seemed to her to be that of +keeping the treacherous girl under lock and key till her husband +came to take her off her mother’s hands. That he +would disregard Dornell’s opposition, and come soon, was +her devout wish.</p> +<p>It seemed, therefore, a fortunate coincidence that on her +arrival at King’s-Hintock a letter from Reynard was put +into Mrs. Dornell’s hands. It was addressed to both +her and her husband, and courteously informed them that the +writer had landed at Bristol, and proposed to come on to +King’s-Hintock in a few days, at last to meet and carry off +his darling Betty, if she and her parents saw no objection.</p> +<p>Betty had also received a letter of the same tenor. Her +mother had only to look at her face to see how the girl received +the information. She was as pale as a sheet.</p> +<p>‘You must do your best to welcome him this time, my dear +Betty,’ her mother said gently.</p> +<p>‘But—but—I—’</p> +<p>‘You are a woman now,’ added her mother severely, +‘and these postponements must come to an end.’</p> +<p>‘But my father—oh, I am sure he will not allow +this! I am not ready. If he could only wait a year +longer—if he could only wait a few months longer! Oh, +I wish—I wish my dear father were here! I will send +to him instantly.’ She broke off abruptly, and +falling upon her mother’s neck, burst into tears, saying, +‘O my mother, have mercy upon me—I do not love this +man, my husband!’</p> +<p>The agonized appeal went too straight to Mrs. Dornell’s +heart for her to hear it unmoved. Yet, things having come +to this pass, what could she do? She was distracted, and +for a moment was on Betty’s side. Her original +thought had been to write an affirmative reply to Reynard, allow +him to come on to King’s-Hintock, and keep her husband in +ignorance of the whole proceeding till he should arrive from +Falls on some fine day after his recovery, and find everything +settled, and Reynard and Betty living together in harmony. +But the events of the day, and her daughter’s sudden +outburst of feeling, had overthrown this intention. Betty +was sure to do as she had threatened, and communicate instantly +with her father, possibly attempt to fly to him. Moreover, +Reynard’s letter was addressed to Mr. Dornell and herself +conjointly, and she could not in conscience keep it from her +husband.</p> +<p>‘I will send the letter on to your father +instantly,’ she replied soothingly. ‘He shall +act entirely as he chooses, and you know that will not be in +opposition to your wishes. He would ruin you rather than +thwart you. I only hope he may be well enough to bear the +agitation of this news. Do you agree to this?’</p> +<p>Poor Betty agreed, on condition that she should actually +witness the despatch of the letter. Her mother had no +objection to offer to this; but as soon as the horseman had +cantered down the drive toward the highway, Mrs. Dornell’s +sympathy with Betty’s recalcitration began to die +out. The girl’s secret affection for young Phelipson +could not possibly be condoned. Betty might communicate +with him, might even try to reach him. Ruin lay that +way. Stephen Reynard must be speedily installed in his +proper place by Betty’s side.</p> +<p>She sat down and penned a private letter to Reynard, which +threw light upon her plan.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>‘It is Necessary that I should now tell you,’ she +said, ‘what I have never Mentioned before—indeed I +may have signified the Contrary—that her Father’s +Objection to your joining her has not as yet been overcome. +As I personally Wish to delay you no longer—am indeed as +anxious for your Arrival as you can be yourself, having the good +of my Daughter at Heart—no course is left open to me but to +assist your Cause without my Husband’s Knowledge. He, +I am sorry to say, is at present ill at Falls-Park, but I felt it +my Duty to forward him your Letter. He will therefore be +like to reply with a peremptory Command to you to go back again, +for some Months, whence you came, till the Time he originally +stipulated has expir’d. My Advice is, if you get such +a Letter, to take no Notice of it, but to come on hither as you +had proposed, letting me know the Day and Hour (after dark, if +possible) at which we may expect you. Dear Betty is with +me, and I warrant ye that she shall be in the House when you +arrive.’</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Mrs. Dornell, having sent away this epistle unsuspected of +anybody, next took steps to prevent her daughter leaving the +Court, avoiding if possible to excite the girl’s suspicions +that she was under restraint. But, as if by divination, +Betty had seemed to read the husband’s approach in the +aspect of her mother’s face.</p> +<p>‘He is coming!’ exclaimed the maiden.</p> +<p>‘Not for a week,’ her mother assured her.</p> +<p>‘He is then—for certain?’</p> +<p>‘Well, yes.’</p> +<p>Betty hastily retired to her room, and would not be seen.</p> +<p>To lock her up, and hand over the key to Reynard when he +should appear in the hall, was a plan charming in its simplicity, +till her mother found, on trying the door of the girl’s +chamber softly, that Betty had already locked and bolted it on +the inside, and had given directions to have her meals served +where she was, by leaving them on a dumb-waiter outside the +door.</p> +<p>Thereupon Mrs. Dornell noiselessly sat down in her boudoir, +which, as well as her bed-chamber, was a passage-room to the +girl’s apartment, and she resolved not to vacate her post +night or day till her daughter’s husband should appear, to +which end she too arranged to breakfast, dine, and sup on the +spot. It was impossible now that Betty should escape +without her knowledge, even if she had wished, there being no +other door to the chamber, except one admitting to a small inner +dressing-room inaccessible by any second way.</p> +<p>But it was plain that the young girl had no thought of +escape. Her ideas ran rather in the direction of +intrenchment: she was prepared to stand a siege, but scorned +flight. This, at any rate, rendered her secure. As to +how Reynard would contrive a meeting with her coy daughter while +in such a defensive humour, that, thought her mother, must be +left to his own ingenuity to discover.</p> +<p>Betty had looked so wild and pale at the announcement of her +husband’s approaching visit, that Mrs. Dornell, somewhat +uneasy, could not leave her to herself. She peeped through +the keyhole an hour later. Betty lay on the sofa, staring +listlessly at the ceiling.</p> +<p>‘You are looking ill, child,’ cried her +mother. ‘You’ve not taken the air lately. +Come with me for a drive.’</p> +<p>Betty made no objection. Soon they drove through the +park towards the village, the daughter still in the strained, +strung-up silence that had fallen upon her. They left the +park to return by another route, and on the open road passed a +cottage.</p> +<p>Betty’s eye fell upon the cottage-window. Within +it she saw a young girl about her own age, whom she knew by +sight, sitting in a chair and propped by a pillow. The +girl’s face was covered with scales, which glistened in the +sun. She was a convalescent from smallpox—a disease +whose prevalence at that period was a terror of which we at +present can hardly form a conception.</p> +<p>An idea suddenly energized Betty’s apathetic +features. She glanced at her mother; Mrs. Dornell had been +looking in the opposite direction. Betty said that she +wished to go back to the cottage for a moment to speak to a girl +in whom she took an interest. Mrs. Dornell appeared +suspicious, but observing that the cottage had no back-door, and +that Betty could not escape without being seen, she allowed the +carriage to be stopped. Betty ran back and entered the +cottage, emerging again in about a minute, and resuming her seat +in the carriage. As they drove on she fixed her eyes upon +her mother and said, ‘There, I have done it +now!’ Her pale face was stormy, and her eyes full of +waiting tears.</p> +<p>‘What have you done?’ said Mrs. Dornell.</p> +<p>‘Nanny Priddle is sick of the smallpox, and I saw her at +the window, and I went in and kissed her, so that I might take +it; and now I shall have it, and he won’t be able to come +near me!’</p> +<p>‘Wicked girl!’ cries her mother. ‘Oh, +what am I to do! What—bring a distemper on yourself, +and usurp the sacred prerogative of God, because you can’t +palate the man you’ve wedded!’</p> +<p>The alarmed woman gave orders to drive home as rapidly as +possible, and on arriving, Betty, who was by this time also +somewhat frightened at her own enormity, was put into a bath, and +fumigated, and treated in every way that could be thought of to +ward off the dreadful malady that in a rash moment she had tried +to acquire.</p> +<p>There was now a double reason for isolating the rebellious +daughter and wife in her own chamber, and there she accordingly +remained for the rest of the day and the days that followed; till +no ill results seemed likely to arise from her wilfulness.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Meanwhile the first letter from Reynard, announcing to Mrs. +Dornell and her husband jointly that he was coming in a few days, +had sped on its way to Falls-Park. It was directed under +cover to Tupcombe, the confidential servant, with instructions +not to put it into his master’s hands till he had been +refreshed by a good long sleep. Tupcombe much regretted his +commission, letters sent in this way always disturbing the +Squire; but guessing that it would be infinitely worse in the end +to withhold the news than to reveal it, he chose his time, which +was early the next morning, and delivered the missive.</p> +<p>The utmost effect that Mrs. Dornell had anticipated from the +message was a peremptory order from her husband to Reynard to +hold aloof a few months longer. What the Squire really did +was to declare that he would go himself and confront Reynard at +Bristol, and have it out with him there by word of mouth.</p> +<p>‘But, master,’ said Tupcombe, ‘you +can’t. You cannot get out of bed.’</p> +<p>‘You leave the room, Tupcombe, and don’t say +“can’t” before me! Have Jerry saddled in +an hour.’</p> +<p>The long-tried Tupcombe thought his employer demented, so +utterly helpless was his appearance just then, and he went out +reluctantly. No sooner was he gone than the Squire, with +great difficulty, stretched himself over to a cabinet by the +bedside, unlocked it, and took out a small bottle. It +contained a gout specific, against whose use he had been +repeatedly warned by his regular physician, but whose warning he +now cast to the winds.</p> +<p>He took a double dose, and waited half an hour. It +seemed to produce no effect. He then poured out a treble +dose, swallowed it, leant back upon his pillow, and waited. +The miracle he anticipated had been worked at last. It +seemed as though the second draught had not only operated with +its own strength, but had kindled into power the latent forces of +the first. He put away the bottle, and rang up +Tupcombe.</p> +<p>Less than an hour later one of the housemaids, who of course +was quite aware that the Squire’s illness was serious, was +surprised to hear a bold and decided step descending the stairs +from the direction of Mr. Dornell’s room, accompanied by +the humming of a tune. She knew that the doctor had not +paid a visit that morning, and that it was too heavy to be the +valet or any other man-servant. Looking up, she saw Squire +Dornell fully dressed, descending toward her in his drab caped +riding-coat and boots, with the swinging easy movement of his +prime. Her face expressed her amazement.</p> +<p>‘What the devil beest looking at?’ said the +Squire. ‘Did you never see a man walk out of his +house before, wench?’</p> +<p>Resuming his humming—which was of a defiant +sort—he proceeded to the library, rang the bell, asked if +the horses were ready, and directed them to be brought +round. Ten minutes later he rode away in the direction of +Bristol, Tupcombe behind him, trembling at what these movements +might portend.</p> +<p>They rode on through the pleasant woodlands and the monotonous +straight lanes at an equal pace. The distance traversed +might have been about fifteen miles when Tupcombe could perceive +that the Squire was getting tired—as weary as he would have +been after riding three times the distance ten years +before. However, they reached Bristol without any mishap, +and put up at the Squire’s accustomed inn. Dornell +almost immediately proceeded on foot to the inn which Reynard had +given as his address, it being now about four o’clock.</p> +<p>Reynard had already dined—for people dined early +then—and he was staying indoors. He had already +received Mrs. Dornell’s reply to his letter; but before +acting upon her advice and starting for King’s-Hintock he +made up his mind to wait another day, that Betty’s father +might at least have time to write to him if so minded. The +returned traveller much desired to obtain the Squire’s +assent, as well as his wife’s, to the proposed visit to his +bride, that nothing might seem harsh or forced in his method of +taking his position as one of the family. But though he +anticipated some sort of objection from his father-in-law, in +consequence of Mrs. Dornell’s warning, he was surprised at +the announcement of the Squire in person.</p> +<p>Stephen Reynard formed the completest of possible contrasts to +Dornell as they stood confronting each other in the best parlour +of the Bristol tavern. The Squire, hot-tempered, gouty, +impulsive, generous, reckless; the younger man, pale, tall, +sedate, self-possessed—a man of the world, fully bearing +out at least one couplet in his epitaph, still extant in +King’s-Hintock church, which places in the inventory of his +good qualities</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Engaging Manners, cultivated Mind,<br /> +Adorn’d by Letters, and in Courts refin’d.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He was at this time about five-and-thirty, though careful +living and an even, unemotional temperament caused him to look +much younger than his years.</p> +<p>Squire Dornell plunged into his errand without much ceremony +or preface.</p> +<p>‘I am your humble servant, sir,’ he said. +‘I have read your letter writ to my wife and myself, and +considered that the best way to answer it would be to do so in +person.’</p> +<p>‘I am vastly honoured by your visit, sir,’ said +Mr. Stephen Reynard, bowing.</p> +<p>‘Well, what’s done can’t be undone,’ +said Dornell, ‘though it was mighty early, and was no doing +of mine. She’s your wife; and there’s an end +on’t. But in brief, sir, she’s too young for +you to claim yet; we mustn’t reckon by years; we must +reckon by nature. She’s still a girl; ’tis +onpolite of ’ee to come yet; next year will be full soon +enough for you to take her to you.’</p> +<p>Now, courteous as Reynard could be, he was a little obstinate +when his resolution had once been formed. She had been +promised him by her eighteenth birthday at latest—sooner if +she were in robust health. Her mother had fixed the time on +her own judgment, without a word of interference on his +part. He had been hanging about foreign courts till he was +weary. Betty was now as woman, if she would ever be one, +and there was not, in his mind, the shadow of an excuse for +putting him off longer. Therefore, fortified as he was by +the support of her mother, he blandly but firmly told the Squire +that he had been willing to waive his rights, out of deference to +her parents, to any reasonable extent, but must now, in justice +to himself and her insist on maintaining them. He +therefore, since she had not come to meet him, should proceed to +King’s-Hintock in a few days to fetch her.</p> +<p>This announcement, in spite of the urbanity with which it was +delivered, set Dornell in a passion.</p> +<p>‘Oh dammy, sir; you talk about rights, you do, after +stealing her away, a mere child, against my will and +knowledge! If we’d begged and prayed ’ee to +take her, you could say no more.’</p> +<p>‘Upon my honour, your charge is quite baseless, +sir,’ said his son-in-law. ‘You must know by +this time—or if you do not, it has been a monstrous cruel +injustice to me that I should have been allowed to remain in your +mind with such a stain upon my character—you must know that +I used no seductiveness or temptation of any kind. Her +mother assented; she assented. I took them at their +word. That you was really opposed to the marriage was not +known to me till afterwards.’</p> +<p>Dornell professed to believe not a word of it. +‘You sha’n’t have her till she’s dree +sixes full—no maid ought to be married till she’s +dree sixes!—and my daughter sha’n’t be treated +out of nater!’ So he stormed on till Tupcombe, who +had been alarmedly listening in the next room, entered suddenly, +declaring to Reynard that his master’s life was in danger +if the interview were prolonged, he being subject to apoplectic +strokes at these crises. Reynard immediately said that he +would be the last to wish to injure Squire Dornell, and left the +room, and as soon as the Squire had recovered breath and +equanimity, he went out of the inn, leaning on the arm of +Tupcombe.</p> +<p>Tupcombe was for sleeping in Bristol that night, but Dornell, +whose energy seemed as invincible as it was sudden, insisted upon +mounting and getting back as far as Falls-Park, to continue the +journey to King’s-Hintock on the following day. At +five they started, and took the southern road toward the Mendip +Hills. The evening was dry and windy, and, excepting that +the sun did not shine, strongly reminded Tupcombe of the evening +of that March month, nearly five years earlier, when news had +been brought to King’s-Hintock Court of the child +Betty’s marriage in London—news which had produced +upon Dornell such a marked effect for the worse ever since, and +indirectly upon the household of which he was the head. +Before that time the winters were lively at Falls-Park, as well +as at King’s-Hintock, although the Squire had ceased to +make it his regular residence. Hunting-guests and +shooting-guests came and went, and open house was kept. +Tupcombe disliked the clever courtier who had put a stop to this +by taking away from the Squire the only treasure he valued.</p> +<p>It grew darker with their progress along the lanes, and +Tupcombe discovered from Mr. Dornell’s manner of riding +that his strength was giving way; and spurring his own horse +close alongside, he asked him how he felt.</p> +<p>‘Oh, bad; damn bad, Tupcombe! I can hardly keep my +seat. I shall never be any better, I fear! Have we +passed Three-Man-Gibbet yet?’</p> +<p>‘Not yet by a long ways, sir.’</p> +<p>‘I wish we had. I can hardly hold on.’ +The Squire could not repress a groan now and then, and Tupcombe +knew he was in great pain. ‘I wish I was +underground—that’s the place for such fools as +I! I’d gladly be there if it were not for Mistress +Betty. He’s coming on to King’s-Hintock +to-morrow—he won’t put it off any longer; he’ll +set out and reach there to-morrow night, without stopping at +Falls; and he’ll take her unawares, and I want to be there +before him.’</p> +<p>‘I hope you may be well enough to do it, sir. But +really—’</p> +<p>‘I <i>must</i>, Tupcombe! You don’t know +what my trouble is; it is not so much that she is married to this +man without my agreeing—for, after all, there’s +nothing to say against him, so far as I know; but that she +don’t take to him at all, seems to fear him—in fact, +cares nothing about him; and if he comes forcing himself into the +house upon her, why, ’twill be rank cruelty. Would to +the Lord something would happen to prevent him!’</p> +<p>How they reached home that night Tupcombe hardly knew. +The Squire was in such pain that he was obliged to recline upon +his horse, and Tupcombe was afraid every moment lest he would +fall into the road. But they did reach home at last, and +Mr. Dornell was instantly assisted to bed.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Next morning it was obvious that he could not possibly go to +King’s-Hintock for several days at least, and there on the +bed he lay, cursing his inability to proceed on an errand so +personal and so delicate that no emissary could perform it. +What he wished to do was to ascertain from Betty’s own lips +if her aversion to Reynard was so strong that his presence would +be positively distasteful to her. Were that the case, he +would have borne her away bodily on the saddle behind him.</p> +<p>But all that was hindered now, and he repeated a hundred times +in Tupcombe’s hearing, and in that of the nurse and other +servants, ‘I wish to God something would happen to +him!’</p> +<p>This sentiment, reiterated by the Squire as he tossed in the +agony induced by the powerful drugs of the day before, entered +sharply into the soul of Tupcombe and of all who were attached to +the house of Dornell, as distinct from the house of his wife at +King’s-Hintock. Tupcombe, who was an excitable man, +was hardly less disquieted by the thought of Reynard’s +return than the Squire himself was. As the week drew on, +and the afternoon advanced at which Reynard would in all +probability be passing near Falls on his way to the Court, the +Squire’s feelings became acuter, and the responsive +Tupcombe could hardly bear to come near him. Having left +him in the hands of the doctor, the former went out upon the +lawn, for he could hardly breathe in the contagion of excitement +caught from the employer who had virtually made him his +confidant. He had lived with the Dornells from his boyhood, +had been born under the shadow of their walls; his whole life was +annexed and welded to the life of the family in a degree which +has no counterpart in these latter days.</p> +<p>He was summoned indoors, and learnt that it had been decided +to send for Mrs. Dornell: her husband was in great danger. +There were two or three who could have acted as messenger, but +Dornell wished Tupcombe to go, the reason showing itself when, +Tupcombe being ready to start, Squire Dornell summoned him to his +chamber and leaned down so that he could whisper in his ear:</p> +<p>‘Put Peggy along smart, Tupcombe, and get there before +him, you know—before him. This is the day he +fixed. He has not passed Falls cross-roads yet. If +you can do that you will be able to get Betty to +come—d’ye see?—after her mother has started; +she’ll have a reason for not waiting for him. Bring +her by the lower road—he’ll go by the upper. +Your business is to make ’em miss each +other—d’ye see?—but that’s a thing I +couldn’t write down.’</p> +<p>Five minutes after, Tupcombe was astride the horse and on his +way—the way he had followed so many times since his master, +a florid young countryman, had first gone wooing to +King’s-Hintock Court. As soon as he had crossed the +hills in the immediate neighbourhood of the manor, the road lay +over a plain, where it ran in long straight stretches for several +miles. In the best of times, when all had been gay in the +united houses, that part of the road had seemed tedious. It +was gloomy in the extreme now that he pursued it, at night and +alone, on such an errand.</p> +<p>He rode and brooded. If the Squire were to die, he, +Tupcombe, would be alone in the world and friendless, for he was +no favourite with Mrs. Dornell; and to find himself baffled, +after all, in what he had set his mind on, would probably kill +the Squire. Thinking thus, Tupcombe stopped his horse every +now and then, and listened for the coming husband. The time +was drawing on to the moment when Reynard might be expected to +pass along this very route. He had watched the road well +during the afternoon, and had inquired of the tavern-keepers as +he came up to each, and he was convinced that the premature +descent of the stranger-husband upon his young mistress had not +been made by this highway as yet.</p> +<p>Besides the girl’s mother, Tupcombe was the only member +of the household who suspected Betty’s tender feelings +towards young Phelipson, so unhappily generated on her return +from school; and he could therefore imagine, even better than her +fond father, what would be her emotions on the sudden +announcement of Reynard’s advent that evening at +King’s-Hintock Court.</p> +<p>So he rode and rode, desponding and hopeful by turns. He +felt assured that, unless in the unfortunate event of the almost +immediate arrival of her son-in law at his own heels, Mrs. +Dornell would not be able to hinder Betty’s departure for +her father’s bedside.</p> +<p>It was about nine o’clock that, having put twenty miles +of country behind him, he turned in at the lodge-gate nearest to +Ivell and King’s-Hintock village, and pursued the long +north drive—itself much like a turnpike road—which +led thence through the park to the Court. Though there were +so many trees in King’s-Hintock park, few bordered the +carriage roadway; he could see it stretching ahead in the pale +night light like an unrolled deal shaving. Presently the +irregular frontage of the house came in view, of great extent, +but low, except where it rose into the outlines of a broad square +tower.</p> +<p>As Tupcombe approached he rode aside upon the grass, to make +sure, if possible, that he was the first comer, before letting +his presence be known. The Court was dark and sleepy, in no +respect as if a bridegroom were about to arrive.</p> +<p>While pausing he distinctly heard the tread of a horse upon +the track behind him, and for a moment despaired of arriving in +time: here, surely, was Reynard! Pulling up closer to the +densest tree at hand he waited, and found he had retreated +nothing too soon, for the second rider avoided the gravel also, +and passed quite close to him. In the profile he recognized +young Phelipson.</p> +<p>Before Tupcombe could think what to do, Phelipson had gone on; +but not to the door of the house. Swerving to the left, he +passed round to the east angle, where, as Tupcombe knew, were +situated Betty’s apartments. Dismounting, he left the +horse tethered to a hanging bough, and walked on to the +house.</p> +<p>Suddenly his eye caught sight of an object which explained the +position immediately. It was a ladder stretching from +beneath the trees, which there came pretty close to the house, up +to a first-floor window—one which lighted Miss +Betty’s rooms. Yes, it was Betty’s chamber; he +knew every room in the house well.</p> +<p>The young horseman who had passed him, having evidently left +his steed somewhere under the trees also, was perceptible at the +top of the ladder, immediately outside Betty’s +window. While Tupcombe watched, a cloaked female figure +stepped timidly over the sill, and the two cautiously descended, +one before the other, the young man’s arms enclosing the +young woman between his grasp of the ladder, so that she could +not fall. As soon as they reached the bottom, young +Phelipson quickly removed the ladder and hid it under the +bushes. The pair disappeared; till, in a few minutes, +Tupcombe could discern a horse emerging from a remoter part of +the umbrage. The horse carried double, the girl being on a +pillion behind her lover.</p> +<p>Tupcombe hardly knew what to do or think; yet, though this was +not exactly the kind of flight that had been intended, she had +certainly escaped. He went back to his own animal, and rode +round to the servants’ door, where he delivered the letter +for Mrs. Dornell. To leave a verbal message for Betty was +now impossible.</p> +<p>The Court servants desired him to stay over the night, but he +would not do so, desiring to get back to the Squire as soon as +possible and tell what he had seen. Whether he ought not to +have intercepted the young people, and carried off Betty himself +to her father, he did not know. However, it was too late to +think of that now, and without wetting his lips or swallowing a +crumb, Tupcombe turned his back upon King’s-Hintock +Court.</p> +<p>It was not till he had advanced a considerable distance on his +way homeward that, halting under the lantern of a roadside-inn +while the horse was watered, there came a traveller from the +opposite direction in a hired coach; the lantern lit the +stranger’s face as he passed along and dropped into the +shade. Tupcombe exulted for the moment, though he could +hardly have justified his exultation. The belated traveller +was Reynard; and another had stepped in before him.</p> +<p>You may now be willing to know of the fortunes of Miss +Betty. Left much to herself through the intervening days, +she had ample time to brood over her desperate attempt at the +stratagem of infection—thwarted, apparently, by her +mother’s promptitude. In what other way to gain time +she could not think. Thus drew on the day and the hour of +the evening on which her husband was expected to announce +himself.</p> +<p>At some period after dark, when she could not tell, a tap at +the window, twice and thrice repeated, became audible. It +caused her to start up, for the only visitant in her mind was the +one whose advances she had so feared as to risk health and life +to repel them. She crept to the window, and heard a whisper +without.</p> +<p>‘It is I—Charley,’ said the voice.</p> +<p>Betty’s face fired with excitement. She had +latterly begun to doubt her admirer’s staunchness, fancying +his love to be going off in mere attentions which neither +committed him nor herself very deeply. She opened the +window, saying in a joyous whisper, ‘Oh Charley; I thought +you had deserted me quite!’</p> +<p>He assured her he had not done that, and that he had a horse +in waiting, if she would ride off with him. ‘You must +come quickly,’ he said; ‘for Reynard’s on the +way!’</p> +<p>To throw a cloak round herself was the work of a moment, and +assuring herself that her door was locked against a surprise, she +climbed over the window-sill and descended with him as we have +seen.</p> +<p>Her mother meanwhile, having received Tupcombe’s note, +found the news of her husband’s illness so serious, as to +displace her thoughts of the coming son-in-law, and she hastened +to tell her daughter of the Squire’s dangerous condition, +thinking it might be desirable to take her to her father’s +bedside. On trying the door of the girl’s room, she +found it still locked. Mrs. Dornell called, but there was +no answer. Full of misgivings, she privately fetched the +old house-steward and bade him burst open the door—an order +by no means easy to execute, the joinery of the Court being +massively constructed. However, the lock sprang open at +last, and she entered Betty’s chamber only to find the +window unfastened and the bird flown.</p> +<p>For a moment Mrs. Dornell was staggered. Then it +occurred to her that Betty might have privately obtained from +Tupcombe the news of her father’s serious illness, and, +fearing she might be kept back to meet her husband, have gone off +with that obstinate and biassed servitor to Falls-Park. The +more she thought it over the more probable did the supposition +appear; and binding her own head-man to secrecy as to +Betty’s movements, whether as she conjectured, or +otherwise, Mrs. Dornell herself prepared to set out.</p> +<p>She had no suspicion how seriously her husband’s malady +had been aggravated by his ride to Bristol, and thought more of +Betty’s affairs than of her own. That Betty’s +husband should arrive by some other road to-night, and find +neither wife nor mother-in-law to receive him, and no explanation +of their absence, was possible; but never forgetting chances, +Mrs. Dornell as she journeyed kept her eyes fixed upon the +highway on the off-side, where, before she had reached the town +of Ivell, the hired coach containing Stephen Reynard flashed into +the lamplight of her own carriage.</p> +<p>Mrs. Dornell’s coachman pulled up, in obedience to a +direction she had given him at starting; the other coach was +hailed, a few words passed, and Reynard alighted and came to Mrs. +Dornell’s carriage-window.</p> +<p>‘Come inside,’ says she. ‘I want to +speak privately to you. Why are you so late?’</p> +<p>‘One hindrance and another,’ says he. +‘I meant to be at the Court by eight at latest. My +gratitude for your letter. I hope—’</p> +<p>‘You must not try to see Betty yet,’ said +she. ‘There be far other and newer reasons against +your seeing her now than there were when I wrote.’</p> +<p>The circumstances were such that Mrs. Dornell could not +possibly conceal them entirely; nothing short of knowing some of +the facts would prevent his blindly acting in a manner which +might be fatal to the future. Moreover, there are times +when deeper intriguers than Mrs. Dornell feel that they must let +out a few truths, if only in self-indulgence. So she told +so much of recent surprises as that Betty’s heart had been +attracted by another image than his, and that his insisting on +visiting her now might drive the girl to desperation. +‘Betty has, in fact, rushed off to her father to avoid +you,’ she said. ‘But if you wait she will soon +forget this young man, and you will have nothing to +fear.’</p> +<p>As a woman and a mother she could go no further, and +Betty’s desperate attempt to infect herself the week before +as a means of repelling him, together with the alarming +possibility that, after all, she had not gone to her father but +to her lover, was not revealed.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ sighed the diplomatist, in a tone +unexpectedly quiet, ‘such things have been known +before. After all, she may prefer me to him some day, when +she reflects how very differently I might have acted than I am +going to act towards her. But I’ll say no more about +that now. I can have a bed at your house for +to-night?’</p> +<p>‘To-night, certainly. And you leave to-morrow +morning early?’ She spoke anxiously, for on no +account did she wish him to make further discoveries. +‘My husband is so seriously ill,’ she continued, +‘that my absence and Betty’s on your arrival is +naturally accounted for.’</p> +<p>He promised to leave early, and to write to her soon. +‘And when I think the time is ripe,’ he said, +‘I’ll write to her. I may have something to +tell her that will bring her to graciousness.’</p> +<p>It was about one o’clock in the morning when Mrs. +Dornell reached Falls-Park. A double blow awaited her +there. Betty had not arrived; her flight had been +elsewhither; and her stricken mother divined with whom. She +ascended to the bedside of her husband, where to her concern she +found that the physician had given up all hope. The Squire +was sinking, and his extreme weakness had almost changed his +character, except in the particular that his old obstinacy +sustained him in a refusal to see a clergyman. He shed +tears at the least word, and sobbed at the sight of his +wife. He asked for Betty, and it was with a heavy heart +that Mrs. Dornell told him that the girl had not accompanied +her.</p> +<p>‘He is not keeping her away?’</p> +<p>‘No, no. He is going back—he is not coming +to her for some time.’</p> +<p>‘Then what is detaining her—cruel, neglectful +maid!’</p> +<p>‘No, no, Thomas; she is— She could not +come.’</p> +<p>‘How’s that?’</p> +<p>Somehow the solemnity of these last moments of his gave him +inquisitorial power, and the too cold wife could not conceal from +him the flight which had taken place from King’s-Hintock +that night.</p> +<p>To her amazement, the effect upon him was electrical.</p> +<p>‘What—Betty—a trump after all? +Hurrah! She’s her father’s own maid! +She’s game! She knew he was her father’s own +choice! She vowed that my man should win! Well done, +Bet!—haw! haw! Hurrah!’</p> +<p>He had raised himself in bed by starts as he spoke, and now +fell back exhausted. He never uttered another word, and +died before the dawn. People said there had not been such +an ungenteel death in a good county family for years.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Now I will go back to the time of Betty’s riding off on +the pillion behind her lover. They left the park by an +obscure gate to the east, and presently found themselves in the +lonely and solitary length of the old Roman road now called +Long-Ash Lane.</p> +<p>By this time they were rather alarmed at their own +performance, for they were both young and inexperienced. +Hence they proceeded almost in silence till they came to a mean +roadside inn which was not yet closed; when Betty, who had held +on to him with much misgiving all this while, felt dreadfully +unwell, and said she thought she would like to get down.</p> +<p>They accordingly dismounted from the jaded animal that had +brought them, and were shown into a small dark parlour, where +they stood side by side awkwardly, like the fugitives they +were. A light was brought, and when they were left alone +Betty threw off the cloak which had enveloped her. No +sooner did young Phelipson see her face than he uttered an +alarmed exclamation.</p> +<p>‘Why, Lord, Lord, you are sickening for the +small-pox!’ he cried.</p> +<p>‘Oh—I forgot!’ faltered Betty. And +then she informed him that, on hearing of her husband’s +approach the week before, in a desperate attempt to keep him from +her side, she had tried to imbibe the infection—an act +which till this moment she had supposed to have been ineffectual, +imagining her feverishness to be the result of her +excitement.</p> +<p>The effect of this discovery upon young Phelipson was +overwhelming. Better-seasoned men than he would not have +been proof against it, and he was only a little over her own +age. ‘And you’ve been holding on to me!’ +he said. ‘And suppose you get worse, and we both have +it, what shall we do? Won’t you be a fright in a +month or two, poor, poor Betty!’</p> +<p>In his horror he attempted to laugh, but the laugh ended in a +weakly giggle. She was more woman than girl by this time, +and realized his feeling.</p> +<p>‘What—in trying to keep off him, I keep off +you?’ she said miserably. ‘Do you hate me +because I am going to be ugly and ill?’</p> +<p>‘Oh—no, no!’ he said soothingly. +‘But I—I am thinking if it is quite right for us to +do this. You see, dear Betty, if you was not married it +would be different. You are not in honour married to him +we’ve often said; still you are his by law, and you +can’t be mine whilst he’s alive. And with this +terrible sickness coming on, perhaps you had better let me take +you back, and—climb in at the window again.’</p> +<p>‘Is <i>this</i> your love?’ said Betty +reproachfully. ‘Oh, if you was sickening for the +plague itself, and going to be as ugly as the Ooser in the +church-vestry, I wouldn’t—’</p> +<p>‘No, no, you mistake, upon my soul!’</p> +<p>But Betty with a swollen heart had rewrapped herself and gone +out of the door. The horse was still standing there. +She mounted by the help of the upping-stock, and when he had +followed her she said, ‘Do not come near me, Charley; but +please lead the horse, so that if you’ve not caught +anything already you’ll not catch it going back. +After all, what keeps off you may keep off him. Now +onward.’</p> +<p>He did not resist her command, and back they went by the way +they had come, Betty shedding bitter tears at the retribution she +had already brought upon herself; for though she had reproached +Phelipson, she was staunch enough not to blame him in her secret +heart for showing that his love was only skin-deep. The +horse was stopped in the plantation, and they walked silently to +the lawn, reaching the bushes wherein the ladder still lay.</p> +<p>‘Will you put it up for me?’ she asked +mournfully.</p> +<p>He re-erected the ladder without a word; but when she +approached to ascend he said, ‘Good-bye, Betty!’</p> +<p>‘Good-bye!’ said she; and involuntarily turned her +face towards his. He hung back from imprinting the expected +kiss: at which Betty started as if she had received a poignant +wound. She moved away so suddenly that he hardly had time +to follow her up the ladder to prevent her falling.</p> +<p>‘Tell your mother to get the doctor at once!’ he +said anxiously.</p> +<p>She stepped in without looking behind; he descended, withdrew +the ladder, and went away.</p> +<p>Alone in her chamber, Betty flung herself upon her face on the +bed, and burst into shaking sobs. Yet she would not admit +to herself that her lover’s conduct was unreasonable; only +that her rash act of the previous week had been wrong. No +one had heard her enter, and she was too worn out, in body and +mind, to think or care about medical aid. In an hour or so +she felt yet more unwell, positively ill; and nobody coming to +her at the usual bedtime, she looked towards the door. +Marks of the lock having been forced were visible, and this made +her chary of summoning a servant. She opened the door +cautiously and sallied forth downstairs.</p> +<p>In the dining-parlour, as it was called, the now sick and +sorry Betty was startled to see at that late hour not her mother, +but a man sitting, calmly finishing his supper. There was +no servant in the room. He turned, and she recognized her +husband.</p> +<p>‘Where’s my mamma?’ she demanded without +preface.</p> +<p>‘Gone to your father’s. Is +that—’ He stopped, aghast.</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir. This spotted object is your wife! +I’ve done it because I don’t want you to come near +me!’</p> +<p>He was sixteen years her senior; old enough to be +compassionate. ‘My poor child, you must get to bed +directly! Don’t be afraid of me—I’ll +carry you upstairs, and send for a doctor instantly.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, you don’t know what I am!’ she +cried. ‘I had a lover once; but now he’s +gone! ’Twasn’t I who deserted him. He has +deserted me; because I am ill he wouldn’t kiss me, though I +wanted him to!’</p> +<p>‘Wouldn’t he? Then he was a very poor +slack-twisted sort of fellow. Betty, <i>I’ve</i> +never kissed you since you stood beside me as my little wife, +twelve years and a half old! May I kiss you now?’</p> +<p>Though Betty by no means desired his kisses, she had enough of +the spirit of Cunigonde in Schiller’s ballad to test his +daring. ‘If you have courage to venture, yes +sir!’ said she. ‘But you may die for it, +mind!’</p> +<p>He came up to her and imprinted a deliberate kiss full upon +her mouth, saying, ‘May many others follow!’</p> +<p>She shook her head, and hastily withdrew, though secretly +pleased at his hardihood. The excitement had supported her +for the few minutes she had passed in his presence, and she could +hardly drag herself back to her room. Her husband summoned +the servants, and, sending them to her assistance, went off +himself for a doctor.</p> +<p>The next morning Reynard waited at the Court till he had +learnt from the medical man that Betty’s attack promised to +be a very light one—or, as it was expressed, ‘very +fine’; and in taking his leave sent up a note to her:</p> +<p>‘Now I must be Gone. I promised your Mother I +would not see You yet, and she may be anger’d if she finds +me here. Promise to see me as Soon as you are +well?’</p> +<p>He was of all men then living one of the best able to cope +with such an untimely situation as this. A contriving, +sagacious, gentle-mannered man, a philosopher who saw that the +only constant attribute of life is change, he held that, as long +as she lives, there is nothing finite in the most impassioned +attitude a woman may take up. In twelve months his +girl-wife’s recent infatuation might be as distasteful to +her mind as it was now to his own. In a few years her very +flesh would change—so said the scientific;—her +spirit, so much more ephemeral, was capable of changing in +one. Betty was his, and it became a mere question of means +how to effect that change.</p> +<p>During the day Mrs. Dornell, having closed her husband’s +eyes, returned to the Court. She was truly relieved to find +Betty there, even though on a bed of sickness. The disease +ran its course, and in due time Betty became convalescent, +without having suffered deeply for her rashness, one little speck +beneath her ear, and one beneath her chin, being all the marks +she retained.</p> +<p>The Squire’s body was not brought back to +King’s-Hintock. Where he was born, and where he had +lived before wedding his Sue, there he had wished to be +buried. No sooner had she lost him than Mrs. Dornell, like +certain other wives, though she had never shown any great +affection for him while he lived, awoke suddenly to his many +virtues, and zealously embraced his opinion about delaying +Betty’s union with her husband, which she had formerly +combated strenuously. ‘Poor man! how right he was, +and how wrong was I!’ Eighteen was certainly the +lowest age at which Mr. Reynard should claim her child—nay, +it was too low! Far too low!</p> +<p>So desirous was she of honouring her lamented husband’s +sentiments in this respect, that she wrote to her son-in-law +suggesting that, partly on account of Betty’s sorrow for +her father’s loss, and out of consideration for his known +wishes for delay, Betty should not be taken from her till her +nineteenth birthday.</p> +<p>However much or little Stephen Reynard might have been to +blame in his marriage, the patient man now almost deserved to be +pitied. First Betty’s skittishness; now her +mother’s remorseful <i>volte-face</i>: it was enough to +exasperate anybody; and he wrote to the widow in a tone which led +to a little coolness between those hitherto firm friends. +However, knowing that he had a wife not to claim but to win, and +that young Phelipson had been packed off to sea by his parents, +Stephen was complaisant to a degree, returning to London, and +holding quite aloof from Betty and her mother, who remained for +the present in the country. In town he had a mild +visitation of the distemper he had taken from Betty, and in +writing to her he took care not to dwell upon its mildness. +It was now that Betty began to pity him for what she had +inflicted upon him by the kiss, and her correspondence acquired a +distinct flavour of kindness thenceforward.</p> +<p>Owing to his rebuffs, Reynard had grown to be truly in love +with Betty in his mild, placid, durable way—in that way +which perhaps, upon the whole, tends most generally to the +woman’s comfort under the institution of marriage, if not +particularly to her ecstasy. Mrs. Dornell’s +exaggeration of her husband’s wish for delay in their +living together was inconvenient, but he would not openly +infringe it. He wrote tenderly to Betty, and soon announced +that he had a little surprise in store for her. The secret +was that the King had been graciously pleased to inform him +privately, through a relation, that His Majesty was about to +offer him a Barony. Would she like the title to be +Ivell? Moreover, he had reason for knowing that in a few +years the dignity would be raised to that of an Earl, for which +creation he thought the title of Wessex would be eminently +suitable, considering the position of much of their +property. As Lady Ivell, therefore, and future Countess of +Wessex, he should beg leave to offer her his heart a third +time.</p> +<p>He did not add, as he might have added, how greatly the +consideration of the enormous estates at King’s-Hintock and +elsewhere which Betty would inherit, and her children after her, +had conduced to this desirable honour.</p> +<p>Whether the impending titles had really any effect upon +Betty’s regard for him I cannot state, for she was one of +those close characters who never let their minds be known upon +anything. That such honour was absolutely unexpected by her +from such a quarter is, however, certain; and she could not deny +that Stephen had shown her kindness, forbearance, even +magnanimity; had forgiven her for an errant passion which he +might with some reason have denounced, notwithstanding her cruel +position as a child entrapped into marriage ere able to +understand its bearings.</p> +<p>Her mother, in her grief and remorse for the loveless life she +had led with her rough, though open-hearted, husband, made now a +creed of his merest whim; and continued to insist that, out of +respect to his known desire, her son-in-law should not reside +with Betty till the girl’s father had been dead a year at +least, at which time the girl would still be under +nineteen. Letters must suffice for Stephen till then.</p> +<p>‘It is rather long for him to wait,’ Betty +hesitatingly said one day.</p> +<p>‘What!’ said her mother. ‘From +<i>you</i>? not to respect your dear father—’</p> +<p>‘Of course it is quite proper,’ said Betty +hastily. ‘I don’t gainsay it. I was but +thinking that—that—’</p> +<p>In the long slow months of the stipulated interval her mother +tended and trained Betty carefully for her duties. Fully +awake now to the many virtues of her dear departed one, she, +among other acts of pious devotion to his memory, rebuilt the +church of King’s-Hintock village, and established valuable +charities in all the villages of that name, as far as to +Little-Hintock, several miles eastward.</p> +<p>In superintending these works, particularly that of the +church-building, her daughter Betty was her constant companion, +and the incidents of their execution were doubtless not without a +soothing effect upon the young creature’s heart. She +had sprung from girl to woman by a sudden bound, and few would +have recognized in the thoughtful face of Betty now the same +person who, the year before, had seemed to have absolutely no +idea whatever of responsibility, moral or other. Time +passed thus till the Squire had been nearly a year in his vault; +and Mrs. Dornell was duly asked by letter by the patient Reynard +if she were willing for him to come soon. He did not wish +to take Betty away if her mother’s sense of loneliness +would be too great, but would willingly live at +King’s-Hintock awhile with them.</p> +<p>Before the widow had replied to this communication, she one +day happened to observe Betty walking on the south terrace in the +full sunlight, without hat or mantle, and was struck by her +child’s figure. Mrs. Dornell called her in, and said +suddenly: ‘Have you seen your husband since the time of +your poor father’s death?’</p> +<p>‘Well—yes, mamma,’ says Betty, +colouring.</p> +<p>‘What—against my wishes and those of your dear +father! I am shocked at your disobedience!’</p> +<p>‘But my father said eighteen, ma’am, and you made +it much longer—’</p> +<p>‘Why, of course—out of consideration for +you! When have ye seen him?’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ stammered Betty, ‘in the course of +his letters to me he said that I belonged to him, and if nobody +knew that we met it would make no difference. And that I +need not hurt your feelings by telling you.’</p> +<p>‘Well?’</p> +<p>‘So I went to Casterbridge that time you went to London +about five months ago—’</p> +<p>‘And met him there? When did you come +back?’</p> +<p>‘Dear mamma, it grew very late, and he said it was safer +not to go back till next day, as the roads were bad; and as you +were away from home—’</p> +<p>‘I don’t want to hear any more! This is your +respect for your father’s memory,’ groaned the +widow. ‘When did you meet him again?’</p> +<p>‘Oh—not for more than a fortnight.’</p> +<p>‘A fortnight! How many times have ye seen him +altogether?’</p> +<p>‘I’m sure, mamma, I’ve not seen him +altogether a dozen times.’</p> +<p>‘A dozen! And eighteen and a half years old +barely!’</p> +<p>‘Twice we met by accident,’ pleaded Betty. +‘Once at Abbot’s-Cernel, and another time at the Red +Lion, Melchester.’</p> +<p>‘O thou deceitful girl!’ cried Mrs. Dornell. +‘An accident took you to the Red Lion whilst I was staying +at the White Hart! I remember—you came in at twelve +o’clock at night and said you’d been to see the +cathedral by the light o’ the moon!’</p> +<p>‘My ever-honoured mamma, so I had! I only went to +the Red Lion with him afterwards.’</p> +<p>‘Oh Betty, Betty! That my child should have +deceived me even in my widowed days!’</p> +<p>‘But, my dearest mamma, you made me marry him!’ +says Betty with spirit, ‘and of course I’ve to obey +him more than you now!’</p> +<p>Mrs. Dornell sighed. ‘All I have to say is, that +you’d better get your husband to join you as soon as +possible,’ she remarked. ‘To go on playing the +maiden like this—I’m ashamed to see you!’</p> +<p>She wrote instantly to Stephen Reynard: ‘I wash my hands +of the whole matter as between you two; though I should advise +you to <i>openly</i> join each other as soon as you can—if +you wish to avoid scandal.’</p> +<p>He came, though not till the promised title had been granted, +and he could call Betty archly ‘My Lady.’</p> +<p>People said in after years that she and her husband were very +happy. However that may be, they had a numerous family; and +she became in due course first Countess of Wessex, as he had +foretold.</p> +<p>The little white frock in which she had been married to him at +the tender age of twelve was carefully preserved among the relics +at King’s-Hintock Court, where it may still be seen by the +curious—a yellowing, pathetic testimony to the small count +taken of the happiness of an innocent child in the social +strategy of those days, which might have led, but providentially +did not lead, to great unhappiness.</p> +<p>When the Earl died Betty wrote him an epitaph, in which she +described him as the best of husbands, fathers, and friends, and +called herself his disconsolate widow.</p> +<p>Such is woman; or rather (not to give offence by so sweeping +an assertion), such was Betty Dornell.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>It was at a meeting of one of the Wessex Field and Antiquarian +Clubs that the foregoing story, partly told, partly read from a +manuscript, was made to do duty for the regulation papers on +deformed butterflies, fossil ox-horns, prehistoric dung-mixens, +and such like, that usually occupied the more serious attention +of the members.</p> +<p>This Club was of an inclusive and intersocial character; to a +degree, indeed, remarkable for the part of England in which it +had its being—dear, delightful Wessex, whose statuesque +dynasties are even now only just beginning to feel the shaking of +the new and strange spirit without, like that which entered the +lonely valley of Ezekiel’s vision and made the dry bones +move: where the honest squires, tradesmen, parsons, clerks, and +people still praise the Lord with one voice for His best of all +possible worlds.</p> +<p>The present meeting, which was to extend over two days, had +opened its proceedings at the museum of the town whose buildings +and environs were to be visited by the members. Lunch had +ended, and the afternoon excursion had been about to be +undertaken, when the rain came down in an obstinate spatter, +which revealed no sign of cessation. As the members waited +they grew chilly, although it was only autumn, and a fire was +lighted, which threw a cheerful shine upon the varnished skulls, +urns, penates, tesseræ, costumes, coats of mail, weapons, +and missals, animated the fossilized ichthyosaurus and iguanodon; +while the dead eyes of the stuffed birds—those never-absent +familiars in such collections, though murdered to extinction out +of doors—flashed as they had flashed to the rising sun +above the neighbouring moors on the fatal morning when the +trigger was pulled which ended their little flight. It was +then that the historian produced his manuscript, which he had +prepared, he said, with a view to publication. His delivery +of the story having concluded as aforesaid, the speaker expressed +his hope that the constraint of the weather, and the paucity of +more scientific papers, would excuse any inappropriateness in his +subject.</p> +<p>Several members observed that a storm-bound club could not +presume to be selective, and they were all very much obliged to +him for such a curious chapter from the domestic histories of the +county.</p> +<p>The President looked gloomily from the window at the +descending rain, and broke a short silence by saying that though +the Club had met, there seemed little probability of its being +able to visit the objects of interest set down among the +<i>agenda</i>.</p> +<p>The Treasurer observed that they had at least a roof over +their heads; and they had also a second day before them.</p> +<p>A sentimental member, leaning back in his chair, declared that +he was in no hurry to go out, and that nothing would please him +so much as another county story, with or without manuscript.</p> +<p>The Colonel added that the subject should be a lady, like the +former, to which a gentleman known as the Spark said ‘Hear, +hear!’</p> +<p>Though these had spoken in jest, a rural dean who was present +observed blandly that there was no lack of materials. Many, +indeed, were the legends and traditions of gentle and noble +dames, renowned in times past in that part of England, whose +actions and passions were now, but for men’s memories, +buried under the brief inscription on a tomb or an entry of dates +in a dry pedigree.</p> +<p>Another member, an old surgeon, a somewhat grim though +sociable personage, was quite of the speaker’s opinion, and +felt quite sure that the memory of the reverend gentleman must +abound with such curious tales of fair dames, of their loves and +hates, their joys and their misfortunes, their beauty and their +fate.</p> +<p>The parson, a trifle confused, retorted that their friend the +surgeon, the son of a surgeon, seemed to him, as a man who had +seen much and heard more during the long course of his own and +his father’s practice, the member of all others most likely +to be acquainted with such lore.</p> +<p>The bookworm, the Colonel, the historian, the Vice-president, +the churchwarden, the two curates, the gentleman-tradesman, the +sentimental member, the crimson maltster, the quiet gentleman, +the man of family, the Spark, and several others, quite agreed, +and begged that he would recall something of the kind. The +old surgeon said that, though a meeting of the Mid-Wessex Field +and Antiquarian Club was the last place at which he should have +expected to be called upon in this way, he had no objection; and +the parson said he would come next. The surgeon then +reflected, and decided to relate the history of a lady named +Barbara, who lived towards the end of the last century, +apologizing for his tale as being perhaps a little too +professional. The crimson maltster winked to the Spark at +hearing the nature of the apology, and the surgeon began.</p> +<h2>DAME THE SECOND—BARBARA OF THE HOUSE OF GREBE<br /> +By the Old Surgeon</h2> +<p>It was apparently an idea, rather than a passion, that +inspired Lord Uplandtowers’ resolve to win her. +Nobody ever knew when he formed it, or whence he got his +assurance of success in the face of her manifest dislike of +him. Possibly not until after that first important act of +her life which I shall presently mention. His matured and +cynical doggedness at the age of nineteen, when impulse mostly +rules calculation, was remarkable, and might have owed its +existence as much to his succession to the earldom and its +accompanying local honours in childhood, as to the family +character; an elevation which jerked him into maturity, so to +speak, without his having known adolescence. He had only +reached his twelfth year when his father, the fourth Earl, died, +after a course of the Bath waters.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, the family character had a great deal to do with +it. Determination was hereditary in the bearers of that +escutcheon; sometimes for good, sometimes for evil.</p> +<p>The seats of the two families were about ten miles apart, the +way between them lying along the now old, then new, turnpike-road +connecting Havenpool and Warborne with the city of Melchester: a +road which, though only a branch from what was known as the Great +Western Highway, is probably, even at present, as it has been for +the last hundred years, one of the finest examples of a +macadamized turnpike-track that can be found in England.</p> +<p>The mansion of the Earl, as well as that of his neighbour, +Barbara’s father, stood back about a mile from the highway, +with which each was connected by an ordinary drive and +lodge. It was along this particular highway that the young +Earl drove on a certain evening at Christmastide some twenty +years before the end of the last century, to attend a ball at +Chene Manor, the home of Barbara, and her parents Sir John and +Lady Grebe. Sir John’s was a baronetcy created a few +years before the breaking out of the Civil War, and his lands +were even more extensive than those of Lord Uplandtowers himself; +comprising this Manor of Chene, another on the coast near, half +the Hundred of Cockdene, and well-enclosed lands in several other +parishes, notably Warborne and those contiguous. At this +time Barbara was barely seventeen, and the ball is the first +occasion on which we have any tradition of Lord Uplandtowers +attempting tender relations with her; it was early enough, God +knows.</p> +<p>An intimate friend—one of the Drenkhards—is said +to have dined with him that day, and Lord Uplandtowers had, for a +wonder, communicated to his guest the secret design of his +heart.</p> +<p>‘You’ll never get her—sure; you’ll +never get her!’ this friend had said at parting. +‘She’s not drawn to your lordship by love: and as for +thought of a good match, why, there’s no more calculation +in her than in a bird.’</p> +<p>‘We’ll see,’ said Lord Uplandtowers +impassively.</p> +<p>He no doubt thought of his friend’s forecast as he +travelled along the highway in his chariot; but the sculptural +repose of his profile against the vanishing daylight on his right +hand would have shown his friend that the Earl’s equanimity +was undisturbed. He reached the solitary wayside tavern +called Lornton Inn—the rendezvous of many a daring poacher +for operations in the adjoining forest; and he might have +observed, if he had taken the trouble, a strange post-chaise +standing in the halting-space before the inn. He duly sped +past it, and half-an-hour after through the little town of +Warborne. Onward, a mile farther, was the house of his +entertainer.</p> +<p>At this date it was an imposing edifice—or, rather, +congeries of edifices—as extensive as the residence of the +Earl himself; though far less regular. One wing showed +extreme antiquity, having huge chimneys, whose substructures +projected from the external walls like towers; and a kitchen of +vast dimensions, in which (it was said) breakfasts had been +cooked for John of Gaunt. Whilst he was yet in the +forecourt he could hear the rhythm of French horns and +clarionets, the favourite instruments of those days at such +entertainments.</p> +<p>Entering the long parlour, in which the dance had just been +opened by Lady Grebe with a minuet—it being now seven +o’clock, according to the tradition—he was received +with a welcome befitting his rank, and looked round for +Barbara. She was not dancing, and seemed to be +preoccupied—almost, indeed, as though she had been waiting +for him. Barbara at this time was a good and pretty girl, +who never spoke ill of any one, and hated other pretty women the +very least possible. She did not refuse him for the +country-dance which followed, and soon after was his partner in a +second.</p> +<p>The evening wore on, and the horns and clarionets tootled +merrily. Barbara evinced towards her lover neither distinct +preference nor aversion; but old eyes would have seen that she +pondered something. However, after supper she pleaded a +headache, and disappeared. To pass the time of her absence, +Lord Uplandtowers went into a little room adjoining the long +gallery, where some elderly ones were sitting by the +fire—for he had a phlegmatic dislike of dancing for its own +sake,—and, lifting the window-curtains, he looked out of +the window into the park and wood, dark now as a cavern. +Some of the guests appeared to be leaving even so soon as this, +two lights showing themselves as turning away from the door and +sinking to nothing in the distance.</p> +<p>His hostess put her head into the room to look for partners +for the ladies, and Lord Uplandtowers came out. Lady Grebe +informed him that Barbara had not returned to the ball-room: she +had gone to bed in sheer necessity.</p> +<p>‘She has been so excited over the ball all day,’ +her mother continued, ‘that I feared she would be worn out +early . . . But sure, Lord Uplandtowers, you won’t be +leaving yet?’</p> +<p>He said that it was near twelve o’clock, and that some +had already left.</p> +<p>‘I protest nobody has gone yet,’ said Lady +Grebe.</p> +<p>To humour her he stayed till midnight, and then set out. +He had made no progress in his suit; but he had assured himself +that Barbara gave no other guest the preference, and nearly +everybody in the neighbourhood was there.</p> +<p>‘’Tis only a matter of time,’ said the calm +young philosopher.</p> +<p>The next morning he lay till near ten o’clock, and he +had only just come out upon the head of the staircase when he +heard hoofs upon the gravel without; in a few moments the door +had been opened, and Sir John Grebe met him in the hall, as he +set foot on the lowest stair.</p> +<p>‘My lord—where’s Barbara—my +daughter?’</p> +<p>Even the Earl of Uplandtowers could not repress +amazement. ‘What’s the matter, my dear Sir +John,’ says he.</p> +<p>The news was startling, indeed. From the Baronet’s +disjointed explanation Lord Uplandtowers gathered that after his +own and the other guests’ departure Sir John and Lady Grebe +had gone to rest without seeing any more of Barbara; it being +understood by them that she had retired to bed when she sent word +to say that she could not join the dancers again. Before +then she had told her maid that she would dispense with her +services for this night; and there was evidence to show that the +young lady had never lain down at all, the bed remaining +unpressed. Circumstances seemed to prove that the deceitful +girl had feigned indisposition to get an excuse for leaving the +ball-room, and that she had left the house within ten minutes, +presumably during the first dance after supper.</p> +<p>‘I saw her go,’ said Lord Uplandtowers.</p> +<p>‘The devil you did!’ says Sir John.</p> +<p>‘Yes.’ And he mentioned the retreating +carriage-lights, and how he was assured by Lady Grebe that no +guest had departed.</p> +<p>‘Surely that was it!’ said the father. +‘But she’s not gone alone, d’ye +know!’</p> +<p>‘Ah—who is the young man?’</p> +<p>‘I can on’y guess. My worst fear is my most +likely guess. I’ll say no more. I +thought—yet I would not believe—it possible that you +was the sinner. Would that you had been! But +’tis t’other, ’tis t’other, by +G---! I must e’en up, and after ’em!’</p> +<p>‘Whom do you suspect?’</p> +<p>Sir John would not give a name, and, stultified rather than +agitated, Lord Uplandtowers accompanied him back to Chene. +He again asked upon whom were the Baronet’s suspicions +directed; and the impulsive Sir John was no match for the +insistence of Uplandtowers.</p> +<p>He said at length, ‘I fear ’tis Edmond +Willowes.’</p> +<p>‘Who’s he?’</p> +<p>‘A young fellow of Shottsford-Forum—a +widow-woman’s son,’ the other told him, and explained +that Willowes’s father, or grandfather, was the last of the +old glass-painters in that place, where (as you may know) the art +lingered on when it had died out in every other part of +England.</p> +<p>‘By G--- that’s bad—mighty bad!’ said +Lord Uplandtowers, throwing himself back in the chaise in frigid +despair.</p> +<p>They despatched emissaries in all directions; one by the +Melchester Road, another by Shottsford-Forum, another +coastwards.</p> +<p>But the lovers had a ten-hours’ start; and it was +apparent that sound judgment had been exercised in choosing as +their time of flight the particular night when the movements of a +strange carriage would not be noticed, either in the park or on +the neighbouring highway, owing to the general press of +vehicles. The chaise which had been seen waiting at Lornton +Inn was, no doubt, the one they had escaped in; and the pair of +heads which had planned so cleverly thus far had probably +contrived marriage ere now.</p> +<p>The fears of her parents were realized. A letter sent by +special messenger from Barbara, on the evening of that day, +briefly informed them that her lover and herself were on the way +to London, and before this communication reached her home they +would be united as husband and wife. She had taken this +extreme step because she loved her dear Edmond as she could love +no other man, and because she had seen closing round her the doom +of marriage with Lord Uplandtowers, unless she put that +threatened fate out of possibility by doing as she had +done. She had well considered the step beforehand, and was +prepared to live like any other country-townsman’s wife if +her father repudiated her for her action.</p> +<p>‘D--- her!’ said Lord Uplandtowers, as he drove +homeward that night. ‘D--- her for a +fool!’—which shows the kind of love he bore her.</p> +<p>Well; Sir John had already started in pursuit of them as a +matter of duty, driving like a wild man to Melchester, and thence +by the direct highway to the capital. But he soon saw that +he was acting to no purpose; and by and by, discovering that the +marriage had actually taken place, he forebore all attempts to +unearth them in the City, and returned and sat down with his lady +to digest the event as best they could.</p> +<p>To proceed against this Willowes for the abduction of our +heiress was, possibly, in their power; yet, when they considered +the now unalterable facts, they refrained from violent +retribution. Some six weeks passed, during which time +Barbara’s parents, though they keenly felt her loss, held +no communication with the truant, either for reproach or +condonation. They continued to think of the disgrace she +had brought upon herself; for, though the young man was an honest +fellow, and the son of an honest father, the latter had died so +early, and his widow had had such struggles to maintain herself; +that the son was very imperfectly educated. Moreover, his +blood was, as far as they knew, of no distinction whatever, +whilst hers, through her mother, was compounded of the best +juices of ancient baronial distillation, containing tinctures of +Maundeville, and Mohun, and Syward, and Peverell, and Culliford, +and Talbot, and Plantagenet, and York, and Lancaster, and God +knows what besides, which it was a thousand pities to throw +away.</p> +<p>The father and mother sat by the fireplace that was spanned by +the four-centred arch bearing the family shields on its haunches, +and groaned aloud—the lady more than Sir John.</p> +<p>‘To think this should have come upon us in our old +age!’ said he.</p> +<p>‘Speak for yourself!’ she snapped through her +sobs. ‘I am only one-and-forty! . . . Why +didn’t ye ride faster and overtake ’em!’</p> +<p>In the meantime the young married lovers, caring no more about +their blood than about ditch-water, were intensely +happy—happy, that is, in the descending scale which, as we +all know, Heaven in its wisdom has ordained for such rash cases; +that is to say, the first week they were in the seventh heaven, +the second in the sixth, the third week temperate, the fourth +reflective, and so on; a lover’s heart after possession +being comparable to the earth in its geologic stages, as +described to us sometimes by our worthy President; first a hot +coal, then a warm one, then a cooling cinder, then +chilly—the simile shall be pursued no further. The +long and the short of it was that one day a letter, sealed with +their daughter’s own little seal, came into Sir John and +Lady Grebe’s hands; and, on opening it, they found it to +contain an appeal from the young couple to Sir John to forgive +them for what they had done, and they would fall on their naked +knees and be most dutiful children for evermore.</p> +<p>Then Sir John and his lady sat down again by the fireplace +with the four-centred arch, and consulted, and re-read the +letter. Sir John Grebe, if the truth must be told, loved +his daughter’s happiness far more, poor man, than he loved +his name and lineage; he recalled to his mind all her little +ways, gave vent to a sigh; and, by this time acclimatized to the +idea of the marriage, said that what was done could not be +undone, and that he supposed they must not be too harsh with +her. Perhaps Barbara and her husband were in actual need; +and how could they let their only child starve?</p> +<p>A slight consolation had come to them in an unexpected +manner. They had been credibly informed that an ancestor of +plebeian Willowes was once honoured with intermarriage with a +scion of the aristocracy who had gone to the dogs. In +short, such is the foolishness of distinguished parents, and +sometimes of others also, that they wrote that very day to the +address Barbara had given them, informing her that she might +return home and bring her husband with her; they would not object +to see him, would not reproach her, and would endeavour to +welcome both, and to discuss with them what could best be +arranged for their future.</p> +<p>In three or four days a rather shabby post-chaise drew up at +the door of Chene Manor-house, at sound of which the +tender-hearted baronet and his wife ran out as if to welcome a +prince and princess of the blood. They were overjoyed to +see their spoilt child return safe and sound—though she was +only Mrs. Willowes, wife of Edmond Willowes of nowhere. +Barbara burst into penitential tears, and both husband and wife +were contrite enough, as well they might be, considering that +they had not a guinea to call their own.</p> +<p>When the four had calmed themselves, and not a word of chiding +had been uttered to the pair, they discussed the position +soberly, young Willowes sitting in the background with great +modesty till invited forward by Lady Grebe in no frigid tone.</p> +<p>‘How handsome he is!’ she said to herself. +‘I don’t wonder at Barbara’s craze for +him.’</p> +<p>He was, indeed, one of the handsomest men who ever set his +lips on a maid’s. A blue coat, murrey waistcoat, and +breeches of drab set off a figure that could scarcely be +surpassed. He had large dark eyes, anxious now, as they +glanced from Barbara to her parents and tenderly back again to +her; observing whom, even now in her trepidation, one could see +why the <i>sang froid</i> of Lord Uplandtowers had been raised to +more than lukewarmness. Her fair young face (according to +the tale handed down by old women) looked out from under a gray +conical hat, trimmed with white ostrich-feathers, and her little +toes peeped from a buff petticoat worn under a puce gown. +Her features were not regular: they were almost infantine, as you +may see from miniatures in possession of the family, her mouth +showing much sensitiveness, and one could be sure that her faults +would not lie on the side of bad temper unless for urgent +reasons.</p> +<p>Well, they discussed their state as became them, and the +desire of the young couple to gain the goodwill of those upon +whom they were literally dependent for everything induced them to +agree to any temporizing measure that was not too irksome. +Therefore, having been nearly two months united, they did not +oppose Sir John’s proposal that he should furnish Edmond +Willowes with funds sufficient for him to travel a year on the +Continent in the company of a tutor, the young man undertaking to +lend himself with the utmost diligence to the tutor’s +instructions, till he became polished outwardly and inwardly to +the degree required in the husband of such a lady as +Barbara. He was to apply himself to the study of languages, +manners, history, society, ruins, and everything else that came +under his eyes, till he should return to take his place without +blushing by Barbara’s side.</p> +<p>‘And by that time,’ said worthy Sir John, +‘I’ll get my little place out at Yewsholt ready for +you and Barbara to occupy on your return. The house is +small and out of the way; but it will do for a young couple for a +while.’</p> +<p>‘If ’twere no bigger than a summer-house it would +do!’ says Barbara.</p> +<p>‘If ’twere no bigger than a sedan-chair!’ +says Willowes. ‘And the more lonely the +better.’</p> +<p>‘We can put up with the loneliness,’ said Barbara, +with less zest. ‘Some friends will come, no +doubt.’</p> +<p>All this being laid down, a travelled tutor was called +in—a man of many gifts and great experience,—and on a +fine morning away tutor and pupil went. A great reason +urged against Barbara accompanying her youthful husband was that +his attentions to her would naturally be such as to prevent his +zealously applying every hour of his time to learning and +seeing—an argument of wise prescience, and +unanswerable. Regular days for letter-writing were fixed, +Barbara and her Edmond exchanged their last kisses at the door, +and the chaise swept under the archway into the drive.</p> +<p>He wrote to her from Le Havre, as soon as he reached that +port, which was not for seven days, on account of adverse winds; +he wrote from Rouen, and from Paris; described to her his sight +of the King and Court at Versailles, and the wonderful +marble-work and mirrors in that palace; wrote next from Lyons; +then, after a comparatively long interval, from Turin, narrating +his fearful adventures in crossing Mont Cenis on mules, and how +he was overtaken with a terrific snowstorm, which had well-nigh +been the end of him, and his tutor, and his guides. Then he +wrote glowingly of Italy; and Barbara could see the development +of her husband’s mind reflected in his letters month by +month; and she much admired the forethought of her father in +suggesting this education for Edmond. Yet she sighed +sometimes—her husband being no longer in evidence to +fortify her in her choice of him—and timidly dreaded what +mortifications might be in store for her by reason of this +<i>mésalliance</i>. She went out very little; for on +the one or two occasions on which she had shown herself to former +friends she noticed a distinct difference in their manner, as +though they should say, ‘Ah, my happy swain’s wife; +you’re caught!’</p> +<p>Edmond’s letters were as affectionate as ever; even more +affectionate, after a while, than hers were to him. Barbara +observed this growing coolness in herself; and like a good and +honest lady was horrified and grieved, since her only wish was to +act faithfully and uprightly. It troubled her so much that +she prayed for a warmer heart, and at last wrote to her husband +to beg him, now that he was in the land of Art, to send her his +portrait, ever so small, that she might look at it all day and +every day, and never for a moment forget his features.</p> +<p>Willowes was nothing loth, and replied that he would do more +than she wished: he had made friends with a sculptor in Pisa, who +was much interested in him and his history; and he had +commissioned this artist to make a bust of himself in marble, +which when finished he would send her. What Barbara had +wanted was something immediate; but she expressed no objection to +the delay; and in his next communication Edmund told her that the +sculptor, of his own choice, had decided to increase the bust to +a full-length statue, so anxious was he to get a specimen of his +skill introduced to the notice of the English aristocracy. +It was progressing well, and rapidly.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Barbara’s attention began to be occupied at +home with Yewsholt Lodge, the house that her kind-hearted father +was preparing for her residence when her husband returned. +It was a small place on the plan of a large one—a cottage +built in the form of a mansion, having a central hall with a +wooden gallery running round it, and rooms no bigger than closets +to follow this introduction. It stood on a slope so +solitary, and surrounded by trees so dense, that the birds who +inhabited the boughs sang at strange hours, as if they hardly +could distinguish night from day.</p> +<p>During the progress of repairs at this bower Barbara +frequently visited it. Though so secluded by the dense +growth, it was near the high road, and one day while looking over +the fence she saw Lord Uplandtowers riding past. He saluted +her courteously, yet with mechanical stiffness, and did not +halt. Barbara went home, and continued to pray that she +might never cease to love her husband. After that she +sickened, and did not come out of doors again for a long +time.</p> +<p>The year of education had extended to fourteen months, and the +house was in order for Edmond’s return to take up his abode +there with Barbara, when, instead of the accustomed letter for +her, came one to Sir John Grebe in the handwriting of the said +tutor, informing him of a terrible catastrophe that had occurred +to them at Venice. Mr Willowes and himself had attended the +theatre one night during the Carnival of the preceding week, to +witness the Italian comedy, when, owing to the carelessness of +one of the candle-snuffers, the theatre had caught fire, and been +burnt to the ground. Few persons had lost their lives, +owing to the superhuman exertions of some of the audience in +getting out the senseless sufferers; and, among them all, he who +had risked his own life the most heroically was Mr. +Willowes. In re-entering for the fifth time to save his +fellow-creatures some fiery beams had fallen upon him, and he had +been given up for lost. He was, however, by the blessing of +Providence, recovered, with the life still in him, though he was +fearfully burnt; and by almost a miracle he seemed likely to +survive, his constitution being wondrously sound. He was, +of course, unable to write, but he was receiving the attention of +several skilful surgeons. Further report would be made by +the next mail or by private hand.</p> +<p>The tutor said nothing in detail of poor Willowes’s +sufferings, but as soon as the news was broken to Barbara she +realized how intense they must have been, and her immediate +instinct was to rush to his side, though, on consideration, the +journey seemed impossible to her. Her health was by no +means what it had been, and to post across Europe at that season +of the year, or to traverse the Bay of Biscay in a sailing-craft, +was an undertaking that would hardly be justified by the +result. But she was anxious to go till, on reading to the +end of the letter, her husband’s tutor was found to hint +very strongly against such a step if it should be contemplated, +this being also the opinion of the surgeons. And though +Willowes’s comrade refrained from giving his reasons, they +disclosed themselves plainly enough in the sequel.</p> +<p>The truth was that the worst of the wounds resulting from the +fire had occurred to his head and face—that handsome face +which had won her heart from her,—and both the tutor and +the surgeons knew that for a sensitive young woman to see him +before his wounds had healed would cause more misery to her by +the shock than happiness to him by her ministrations.</p> +<p>Lady Grebe blurted out what Sir John and Barbara had thought, +but had had too much delicacy to express.</p> +<p>‘Sure, ’tis mighty hard for you, poor Barbara, +that the one little gift he had to justify your rash choice of +him—his wonderful good looks—should be taken away +like this, to leave ’ee no excuse at all for your conduct +in the world’s eyes . . . Well, I wish you’d married +t’other—that do I!’ And the lady +sighed.</p> +<p>‘He’ll soon get right again,’ said her +father soothingly.</p> +<p>Such remarks as the above were not often made; but they were +frequent enough to cause Barbara an uneasy sense of +self-stultification. She determined to hear them no longer; +and the house at Yewsholt being ready and furnished, she withdrew +thither with her maids, where for the first time she could feel +mistress of a home that would be hers and her husband’s +exclusively, when he came.</p> +<p>After long weeks Willowes had recovered sufficiently to be +able to write himself; and slowly and tenderly he enlightened her +upon the full extent of his injuries. It was a mercy, he +said, that he had not lost his sight entirely; but he was +thankful to say that he still retained full vision in one eye, +though the other was dark for ever. The sparing manner in +which he meted out particulars of his condition told Barbara how +appalling had been his experience. He was grateful for her +assurance that nothing could change her; but feared she did not +fully realize that he was so sadly disfigured as to make it +doubtful if she would recognize him. However, in spite of +all, his heart was as true to her as it ever had been.</p> +<p>Barbara saw from his anxiety how much lay behind. She +replied that she submitted to the decrees of Fate, and would +welcome him in any shape as soon as he could come. She told +him of the pretty retreat in which she had taken up her abode, +pending their joint occupation of it, and did not reveal how much +she had sighed over the information that all his good looks were +gone. Still less did she say that she felt a certain +strangeness in awaiting him, the weeks they had lived together +having been so short by comparison with the length of his +absence.</p> +<p>Slowly drew on the time when Willowes found himself well +enough to come home. He landed at Southampton, and posted +thence towards Yewsholt. Barbara arranged to go out to meet +him as far as Lornton Inn—the spot between the Forest and +the Chase at which he had waited for night on the evening of +their elopement. Thither she drove at the appointed hour in +a little pony-chaise, presented her by her father on her birthday +for her especial use in her new house; which vehicle she sent +back on arriving at the inn, the plan agreed upon being that she +should perform the return journey with her husband in his hired +coach.</p> +<p>There was not much accommodation for a lady at this wayside +tavern; but, as it was a fine evening in early summer, she did +not mind—walking about outside, and straining her eyes +along the highway for the expected one. But each cloud of +dust that enlarged in the distance and drew near was found to +disclose a conveyance other than his post-chaise. Barbara +remained till the appointment was two hours passed, and then +began to fear that owing to some adverse wind in the Channel he +was not coming that night.</p> +<p>While waiting she was conscious of a curious trepidation that +was not entirely solicitude, and did not amount to dread; her +tense state of incertitude bordered both on disappointment and on +relief. She had lived six or seven weeks with an +imperfectly educated yet handsome husband whom now she had not +seen for seventeen months, and who was so changed physically by +an accident that she was assured she would hardly know him. +Can we wonder at her compound state of mind?</p> +<p>But her immediate difficulty was to get away from Lornton Inn, +for her situation was becoming embarrassing. Like too many +of Barbara’s actions, this drive had been undertaken +without much reflection. Expecting to wait no more than a +few minutes for her husband in his post-chaise, and to enter it +with him, she had not hesitated to isolate herself by sending +back her own little vehicle. She now found that, being so +well known in this neighbourhood, her excursion to meet her +long-absent husband was exciting great interest. She was +conscious that more eyes were watching her from the inn-windows +than met her own gaze. Barbara had decided to get home by +hiring whatever kind of conveyance the tavern afforded, when, +straining her eyes for the last time over the now darkening +highway, she perceived yet another dust-cloud drawing near. +She paused; a chariot ascended to the inn, and would have passed +had not its occupant caught sight of her standing +expectantly. The horses were checked on the instant.</p> +<p>‘You here—and alone, my dear Mrs. Willowes?’ +said Lord Uplandtowers, whose carriage it was.</p> +<p>She explained what had brought her into this lonely situation; +and, as he was going in the direction of her own home, she +accepted his offer of a seat beside him. Their conversation +was embarrassed and fragmentary at first; but when they had +driven a mile or two she was surprised to find herself talking +earnestly and warmly to him: her impulsiveness was in truth but +the natural consequence of her late existence—a somewhat +desolate one by reason of the strange marriage she had made; and +there is no more indiscreet mood than that of a woman surprised +into talk who has long been imposing upon herself a policy of +reserve. Therefore her ingenuous heart rose with a bound +into her throat when, in response to his leading questions, or +rather hints, she allowed her troubles to leak out of her. +Lord Uplandtowers took her quite to her own door, although he had +driven three miles out of his way to do so; and in handing her +down she heard from him a whisper of stern reproach: ‘It +need not have been thus if you had listened to me!’</p> +<p>She made no reply, and went indoors. There, as the +evening wore away, she regretted more and more that she had been +so friendly with Lord Uplandtowers. But he had launched +himself upon her so unexpectedly: if she had only foreseen the +meeting with him, what a careful line of conduct she would have +marked out! Barbara broke into a perspiration of disquiet +when she thought of her unreserve, and, in self-chastisement, +resolved to sit up till midnight on the bare chance of +Edmond’s return; directing that supper should be laid for +him, improbable as his arrival till the morrow was.</p> +<p>The hours went past, and there was dead silence in and round +about Yewsholt Lodge, except for the soughing of the trees; till, +when it was near upon midnight, she heard the noise of hoofs and +wheels approaching the door. Knowing that it could only be +her husband, Barbara instantly went into the hall to meet +him. Yet she stood there not without a sensation of +faintness, so many were the changes since their parting! +And, owing to her casual encounter with Lord Uplandtowers, his +voice and image still remained with her, excluding Edmond, her +husband, from the inner circle of her impressions.</p> +<p>But she went to the door, and the next moment a figure stepped +inside, of which she knew the outline, but little besides. +Her husband was attired in a flapping black cloak and slouched +hat, appearing altogether as a foreigner, and not as the young +English burgess who had left her side. When he came forward +into the light of the lamp, she perceived with surprise, and +almost with fright, that he wore a mask. At first she had +not noticed this—there being nothing in its colour which +would lead a casual observer to think he was looking on anything +but a real countenance.</p> +<p>He must have seen her start of dismay at the unexpectedness of +his appearance, for he said hastily: ‘I did not mean to +come in to you like this—I thought you would have been in +bed. How good you are, dear Barbara!’ He put +his arm round her, but he did not attempt to kiss her.</p> +<p>‘O Edmond—it <i>is</i> you?—it must +be?’ she said, with clasped hands, for though his figure +and movement were almost enough to prove it, and the tones were +not unlike the old tones, the enunciation was so altered as to +seem that of a stranger.</p> +<p>‘I am covered like this to hide myself from the curious +eyes of the inn-servants and others,’ he said, in a low +voice. ‘I will send back the carriage and join you in +a moment.’</p> +<p>‘You are quite alone?’</p> +<p>‘Quite. My companion stopped at +Southampton.’</p> +<p>The wheels of the post-chaise rolled away as she entered the +dining-room, where the supper was spread; and presently he +rejoined her there. He had removed his cloak and hat, but +the mask was still retained; and she could now see that it was of +special make, of some flexible material like silk, coloured so as +to represent flesh; it joined naturally to the front hair, and +was otherwise cleverly executed.</p> +<p>‘Barbara—you look ill,’ he said, removing +his glove, and taking her hand.</p> +<p>‘Yes—I have been ill,’ said she.</p> +<p>‘Is this pretty little house ours?’</p> +<p>‘O—yes.’ She was hardly conscious of +her words, for the hand he had ungloved in order to take hers was +contorted, and had one or two of its fingers missing; while +through the mask she discerned the twinkle of one eye only.</p> +<p>‘I would give anything to kiss you, dearest, now, at +this moment!’ he continued, with mournful +passionateness. ‘But I cannot—in this +guise. The servants are abed, I suppose?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said she. ‘But I can call +them? You will have some supper?’</p> +<p>He said he would have some, but that it was not necessary to +call anybody at that hour. Thereupon they approached the +table, and sat down, facing each other.</p> +<p>Despite Barbara’s scared state of mind, it was forced +upon her notice that her husband trembled, as if he feared the +impression he was producing, or was about to produce, as much as, +or more than, she. He drew nearer, and took her hand +again.</p> +<p>‘I had this mask made at Venice,’ he began, in +evident embarrassment. ‘My darling Barbara—my +dearest wife—do you think you—will mind when I take +it off? You will not dislike me—will you?’</p> +<p>‘O Edmond, of course I shall not mind,’ said +she. ‘What has happened to you is our misfortune; but +I am prepared for it.’</p> +<p>‘Are you sure you are prepared?’</p> +<p>‘O yes! You are my husband.’</p> +<p>‘You really feel quite confident that nothing external +can affect you?’ he said again, in a voice rendered +uncertain by his agitation.</p> +<p>‘I think I am—quite,’ she answered +faintly.</p> +<p>He bent his head. ‘I hope, I hope you are,’ +he whispered.</p> +<p>In the pause which followed, the ticking of the clock in the +hall seemed to grow loud; and he turned a little aside to remove +the mask. She breathlessly awaited the operation, which was +one of some tediousness, watching him one moment, averting her +face the next; and when it was done she shut her eyes at the +hideous spectacle that was revealed. A quick spasm of +horror had passed through her; but though she quailed she forced +herself to regard him anew, repressing the cry that would +naturally have escaped from her ashy lips. Unable to look +at him longer, Barbara sank down on the floor beside her chair, +covering her eyes.</p> +<p>‘You cannot look at me!’ he groaned in a hopeless +way. ‘I am too terrible an object even for you to +bear! I knew it; yet I hoped against it. Oh, this is +a bitter fate—curse the skill of those Venetian surgeons +who saved me alive! . . . Look up, Barbara,’ he continued +beseechingly; ‘view me completely; say you loathe me, if +you do loathe me, and settle the case between us for +ever!’</p> +<p>His unhappy wife pulled herself together for a desperate +strain. He was her Edmond; he had done her no wrong; he had +suffered. A momentary devotion to him helped her, and +lifting her eyes as bidden she regarded this human remnant, this +<i>écorché</i>, a second time. But the sight +was too much. She again involuntarily looked aside and +shuddered.</p> +<p>‘Do you think you can get used to this?’ he +said. ‘Yes or no! Can you bear such a thing of +the charnel-house near you? Judge for yourself; +Barbara. Your Adonis, your matchless man, has come to +this!’</p> +<p>The poor lady stood beside him motionless, save for the +restlessness of her eyes. All her natural sentiments of +affection and pity were driven clean out of her by a sort of +panic; she had just the same sense of dismay and fearfulness that +she would have had in the presence of an apparition. She +could nohow fancy this to be her chosen one—the man she had +loved; he was metamorphosed to a specimen of another +species. ‘I do not loathe you,’ she said with +trembling. ‘But I am so horrified—so +overcome! Let me recover myself. Will you sup +now? And while you do so may I go to my room +to—regain my old feeling for you? I will try, if I +may leave you awhile? Yes, I will try!’</p> +<p>Without waiting for an answer from him, and keeping her gaze +carefully averted, the frightened woman crept to the door and out +of the room. She heard him sit down to the table, as if to +begin supper though, Heaven knows, his appetite was slight enough +after a reception which had confirmed his worst surmises. +When Barbara had ascended the stairs and arrived in her chamber +she sank down, and buried her face in the coverlet of the +bed.</p> +<p>Thus she remained for some time. The bed-chamber was +over the dining-room, and presently as she knelt Barbara heard +Willowes thrust back his chair, and rise to go into the +hall. In five minutes that figure would probably come up +the stairs and confront her again; it,—this new and +terrible form, that was not her husband’s. In the +loneliness of this night, with neither maid nor friend beside +her, she lost all self-control, and at the first sound of his +footstep on the stairs, without so much as flinging a cloak round +her, she flew from the room, ran along the gallery to the back +staircase, which she descended, and, unlocking the back door, let +herself out. She scarcely was aware what she had done till +she found herself in the greenhouse, crouching on a +flower-stand.</p> +<p>Here she remained, her great timid eyes strained through the +glass upon the garden without, and her skirts gathered up, in +fear of the field-mice which sometimes came there. Every +moment she dreaded to hear footsteps which she ought by law to +have longed for, and a voice that should have been as music to +her soul. But Edmond Willowes came not that way. The +nights were getting short at this season, and soon the dawn +appeared, and the first rays of the sun. By daylight she +had less fear than in the dark. She thought she could meet +him, and accustom herself to the spectacle.</p> +<p>So the much-tried young woman unfastened the door of the +hot-house, and went back by the way she had emerged a few hours +ago. Her poor husband was probably in bed and asleep, his +journey having been long; and she made as little noise as +possible in her entry. The house was just as she had left +it, and she looked about in the hall for his cloak and hat, but +she could not see them; nor did she perceive the small trunk +which had been all that he brought with him, his heavier baggage +having been left at Southampton for the road-waggon. She +summoned courage to mount the stairs; the bedroom-door was open +as she had left it. She fearfully peeped round; the bed had +not been pressed. Perhaps he had lain down on the +dining-room sofa. She descended and entered; he was not +there. On the table beside his unsoiled plate lay a note, +hastily written on the leaf of a pocket-book. It was +something like this:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘<span class="smcap">My ever-beloved +Wife</span>—The effect that my forbidding appearance has +produced upon you was one which I foresaw as quite +possible. I hoped against it, but foolishly so. I was +aware that no <i>human</i> love could survive such a +catastrophe. I confess I thought yours <i>divine</i>; but, +after so long an absence, there could not be left sufficient +warmth to overcome the too natural first aversion. It was +an experiment, and it has failed. I do not blame you; +perhaps, even, it is better so. Good-bye. I leave +England for one year. You will see me again at the +expiration of that time, if I live. Then I will ascertain +your true feeling; and, if it be against me, go away for +ever. E. W.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On recovering from her surprise, Barbara’s remorse was +such that she felt herself absolutely unforgiveable. She +should have regarded him as an afflicted being, and not have been +this slave to mere eyesight, like a child. To follow him +and entreat him to return was her first thought. But on +making inquiries she found that nobody had seen him: he had +silently disappeared.</p> +<p>More than this, to undo the scene of last night was +impossible. Her terror had been too plain, and he was a man +unlikely to be coaxed back by her efforts to do her duty. +She went and confessed to her parents all that had occurred; +which, indeed, soon became known to more persons than those of +her own family.</p> +<p>The year passed, and he did not return; and it was doubted if +he were alive. Barbara’s contrition for her +unconquerable repugnance was now such that she longed to build a +church-aisle, or erect a monument, and devote herself to deeds of +charity for the remainder of her days. To that end she made +inquiry of the excellent parson under whom she sat on Sundays, at +a vertical distance of twenty feet. But he could only +adjust his wig and tap his snuff-box; for such was the lukewarm +state of religion in those days, that not an aisle, steeple, +porch, east window, Ten-Commandment board, lion-and-unicorn, or +brass candlestick, was required anywhere at all in the +neighbourhood as a votive offering from a distracted +soul—the last century contrasting greatly in this respect +with the happy times in which we live, when urgent appeals for +contributions to such objects pour in by every morning’s +post, and nearly all churches have been made to look like new +pennies. As the poor lady could not ease her conscience +this way, she determined at least to be charitable, and soon had +the satisfaction of finding her porch thronged every morning by +the raggedest, idlest, most drunken, hypocritical, and worthless +tramps in Christendom.</p> +<p>But human hearts are as prone to change as the leaves of the +creeper on the wall, and in the course of time, hearing nothing +of her husband, Barbara could sit unmoved whilst her mother and +friends said in her hearing, ‘Well, what has happened is +for the best.’ She began to think so herself; for +even now she could not summon up that lopped and mutilated form +without a shiver, though whenever her mind flew back to her early +wedded days, and the man who had stood beside her then, a thrill +of tenderness moved her, which if quickened by his living +presence might have become strong. She was young and +inexperienced, and had hardly on his late return grown out of the +capricious fancies of girlhood.</p> +<p>But he did not come again, and when she thought of his word +that he would return once more, if living, and how unlikely he +was to break his word, she gave him up for dead. So did her +parents; so also did another person—that man of silence, of +irresistible incisiveness, of still countenance, who was as awake +as seven sentinels when he seemed to be as sound asleep as the +figures on his family monument. Lord Uplandtowers, though +not yet thirty, had chuckled like a caustic fogey of threescore +when he heard of Barbara’s terror and flight at her +husband’s return, and of the latter’s prompt +departure. He felt pretty sure, however, that Willowes, +despite his hurt feelings, would have reappeared to claim his +bright-eyed property if he had been alive at the end of the +twelve months.</p> +<p>As there was no husband to live with her, Barbara had +relinquished the house prepared for them by her father, and taken +up her abode anew at Chene Manor, as in the days of her +girlhood. By degrees the episode with Edmond Willowes +seemed but a fevered dream, and as the months grew to years Lord +Uplandtowers’ friendship with the people at +Chene—which had somewhat cooled after Barbara’s +elopement—revived considerably, and he again became a +frequent visitor there. He could not make the most trivial +alteration or improvement at Knollingwood Hall, where he lived, +without riding off to consult with his friend Sir John at Chene; +and thus putting himself frequently under her eyes, Barbara grew +accustomed to him, and talked to him as freely as to a +brother. She even began to look up to him as a person of +authority, judgment, and prudence; and though his severity on the +bench towards poachers, smugglers, and turnip-stealers was matter +of common notoriety, she trusted that much of what was said might +be misrepresentation.</p> +<p>Thus they lived on till her husband’s absence had +stretched to years, and there could be no longer any doubt of his +death. A passionless manner of renewing his addresses +seemed no longer out of place in Lord Uplandtowers. Barbara +did not love him, but hers was essentially one of those sweet-pea +or with-wind natures which require a twig of stouter fibre than +its own to hang upon and bloom. Now, too, she was older, +and admitted to herself that a man whose ancestor had run scores +of Saracens through and through in fighting for the site of the +Holy Sepulchre was a more desirable husband, socially considered, +than one who could only claim with certainty to know that his +father and grandfather were respectable burgesses.</p> +<p>Sir John took occasion to inform her that she might legally +consider herself a widow; and, in brief; Lord Uplandtowers +carried his point with her, and she married him, though he could +never get her to own that she loved him as she had loved +Willowes. In my childhood I knew an old lady whose mother +saw the wedding, and she said that when Lord and Lady +Uplandtowers drove away from her father’s house in the +evening it was in a coach-and-four, and that my lady was dressed +in green and silver, and wore the gayest hat and feather that +ever were seen; though whether it was that the green did not suit +her complexion, or otherwise, the Countess looked pale, and the +reverse of blooming. After their marriage her husband took +her to London, and she saw the gaieties of a season there; then +they returned to Knollingwood Hall, and thus a year passed +away.</p> +<p>Before their marriage her husband had seemed to care but +little about her inability to love him passionately. +‘Only let me win you,’ he had said, ‘and I will +submit to all that.’ But now her lack of warmth +seemed to irritate him, and he conducted himself towards her with +a resentfulness which led to her passing many hours with him in +painful silence. The heir-presumptive to the title was a +remote relative, whom Lord Uplandtowers did not exclude from the +dislike he entertained towards many persons and things besides, +and he had set his mind upon a lineal successor. He blamed +her much that there was no promise of this, and asked her what +she was good for.</p> +<p>On a particular day in her gloomy life a letter, addressed to +her as Mrs. Willowes, reached Lady Uplandtowers from an +unexpected quarter. A sculptor in Pisa, knowing nothing of +her second marriage, informed her that the long-delayed life-size +statue of Mr. Willowes, which, when her husband left that city, +he had been directed to retain till it was sent for, was still in +his studio. As his commission had not wholly been paid, and +the statue was taking up room he could ill spare, he should be +glad to have the debt cleared off, and directions where to +forward the figure. Arriving at a time when the Countess +was beginning to have little secrets (of a harmless kind, it is +true) from her husband, by reason of their growing estrangement, +she replied to this letter without saying a word to Lord +Uplandtowers, sending off the balance that was owing to the +sculptor, and telling him to despatch the statue to her without +delay.</p> +<p>It was some weeks before it arrived at Knollingwood Hall, and, +by a singular coincidence, during the interval she received the +first absolutely conclusive tidings of her Edmond’s +death. It had taken place years before, in a foreign land, +about six months after their parting, and had been induced by the +sufferings he had already undergone, coupled with much depression +of spirit, which had caused him to succumb to a slight +ailment. The news was sent her in a brief and formal letter +from some relative of Willowes’s in another part of +England.</p> +<p>Her grief took the form of passionate pity for his +misfortunes, and of reproach to herself for never having been +able to conquer her aversion to his latter image by recollection +of what Nature had originally made him. The sad spectacle +that had gone from earth had never been her Edmond at all to +her. O that she could have met him as he was at +first! Thus Barbara thought. It was only a few days +later that a waggon with two horses, containing an immense +packing-case, was seen at breakfast-time both by Barbara and her +husband to drive round to the back of the house, and by-and-by +they were informed that a case labelled ‘Sculpture’ +had arrived for her ladyship.</p> +<p>‘What can that be?’ said Lord Uplandtowers.</p> +<p>‘It is the statue of poor Edmond, which belongs to me, +but has never been sent till now,’ she answered.</p> +<p>‘Where are you going to put it?’ asked he.</p> +<p>‘I have not decided,’ said the Countess. +‘Anywhere, so that it will not annoy you.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, it won’t annoy me,’ says he.</p> +<p>When it had been unpacked in a back room of the house, they +went to examine it. The statue was a full-length figure, in +the purest Carrara marble, representing Edmond Willowes in all +his original beauty, as he had stood at parting from her when +about to set out on his travels; a specimen of manhood almost +perfect in every line and contour. The work had been +carried out with absolute fidelity.</p> +<p>‘Phoebus-Apollo, sure,’ said the Earl of +Uplandtowers, who had never seen Willowes, real or represented, +till now.</p> +<p>Barbara did not hear him. She was standing in a sort of +trance before the first husband, as if she had no consciousness +of the other husband at her side. The mutilated features of +Willowes had disappeared from her mind’s eye; this perfect +being was really the man she had loved, and not that later +pitiable figure; in whom love and truth should have seen this +image always, but had not done so.</p> +<p>It was not till Lord Uplandtowers said roughly, ‘Are you +going to stay here all the morning worshipping him?’ that +she roused herself.</p> +<p>Her husband had not till now the least suspicion that Edmond +Willowes originally looked thus, and he thought how deep would +have been his jealousy years ago if Willowes had been known to +him. Returning to the Hall in the afternoon he found his +wife in the gallery, whither the statue had been brought.</p> +<p>She was lost in reverie before it, just as in the morning.</p> +<p>‘What are you doing?’ he asked.</p> +<p>She started and turned. ‘I am looking at my +husb--- my statue, to see if it is well done,’ she +stammered. ‘Why should I not?’</p> +<p>‘There’s no reason why,’ he said. +‘What are you going to do with the monstrous thing? +It can’t stand here for ever.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t wish it,’ she said. +‘I’ll find a place.’</p> +<p>In her boudoir there was a deep recess, and while the Earl was +absent from home for a few days in the following week, she hired +joiners from the village, who under her directions enclosed the +recess with a panelled door. Into the tabernacle thus +formed she had the statue placed, fastening the door with a lock, +the key of which she kept in her pocket.</p> +<p>When her husband returned he missed the statue from the +gallery, and, concluding that it had been put away out of +deference to his feelings, made no remark. Yet at moments +he noticed something on his lady’s face which he had never +noticed there before. He could not construe it; it was a +sort of silent ecstasy, a reserved beatification. What had +become of the statue he could not divine, and growing more and +more curious, looked about here and there for it till, thinking +of her private room, he went towards that spot. After +knocking he heard the shutting of a door, and the click of a key; +but when he entered his wife was sitting at work, on what was in +those days called knotting. Lord Uplandtowers’ eye +fell upon the newly-painted door where the recess had formerly +been.</p> +<p>‘You have been carpentering in my absence then, +Barbara,’ he said carelessly.</p> +<p>‘Yes, Uplandtowers.’</p> +<p>‘Why did you go putting up such a tasteless enclosure as +that—spoiling the handsome arch of the alcove?’</p> +<p>‘I wanted more closet-room; and I thought that as this +was my own apartment—’</p> +<p>‘Of course,’ he returned. Lord Uplandtowers +knew now where the statue of young Willowes was.</p> +<p>One night, or rather in the smallest hours of the morning, he +missed the Countess from his side. Not being a man of +nervous imaginings he fell asleep again before he had much +considered the matter, and the next morning had forgotten the +incident. But a few nights later the same circumstances +occurred. This time he fully roused himself; but before he +had moved to search for her, she entered the chamber in her +dressing-gown, carrying a candle, which she extinguished as she +approached, deeming him asleep. He could discover from her +breathing that she was strangely moved; but not on this occasion +either did he reveal that he had seen her. Presently, when +she had lain down, affecting to wake, he asked her some trivial +questions. ‘Yes, <i>Edmond</i>,’ she replied +absently.</p> +<p>Lord Uplandtowers became convinced that she was in the habit +of leaving the chamber in this queer way more frequently than he +had observed, and he determined to watch. The next midnight +he feigned deep sleep, and shortly after perceived her stealthily +rise and let herself out of the room in the dark. He +slipped on some clothing and followed. At the farther end +of the corridor, where the clash of flint and steel would be out +of the hearing of one in the bed-chamber, she struck a +light. He stepped aside into an empty room till she had lit +a taper and had passed on to her boudoir. In a minute or +two he followed. Arrived at the door of the boudoir, he +beheld the door of the private recess open, and Barbara within +it, standing with her arms clasped tightly round the neck of her +Edmond, and her mouth on his. The shawl which she had +thrown round her nightclothes had slipped from her shoulders, and +her long white robe and pale face lent her the blanched +appearance of a second statue embracing the first. Between +her kisses, she apostrophized it in a low murmur of infantine +tenderness:</p> +<p>‘My only love—how could I be so cruel to you, my +perfect one—so good and true—I am ever faithful to +you, despite my seeming infidelity! I always think of +you—dream of you—during the long hours of the day, +and in the night-watches! O Edmond, I am always +yours!’ Such words as these, intermingled with sobs, +and streaming tears, and dishevelled hair, testified to an +intensity of feeling in his wife which Lord Uplandtowers had not +dreamed of her possessing.</p> +<p>‘Ha, ha!’ says he to himself. ‘This is +where we evaporate—this is where my hopes of a successor in +the title dissolve—ha, ha! This must be seen to, +verily!’</p> +<p>Lord Uplandtowers was a subtle man when once he set himself to +strategy; though in the present instance he never thought of the +simple stratagem of constant tenderness. Nor did he enter +the room and surprise his wife as a blunderer would have done, +but went back to his chamber as silently as he had left it. +When the Countess returned thither, shaken by spent sobs and +sighs, he appeared to be soundly sleeping as usual. The +next day he began his countermoves by making inquiries as to the +whereabouts of the tutor who had travelled with his wife’s +first husband; this gentleman, he found, was now master of a +grammar-school at no great distance from Knollingwood. At +the first convenient moment Lord Uplandtowers went thither and +obtained an interview with the said gentleman. The +schoolmaster was much gratified by a visit from such an +influential neighbour, and was ready to communicate anything that +his lordship desired to know.</p> +<p>After some general conversation on the school and its +progress, the visitor observed that he believed the schoolmaster +had once travelled a good deal with the unfortunate Mr. Willowes, +and had been with him on the occasion of his accident. He, +Lord Uplandtowers, was interested in knowing what had really +happened at that time, and had often thought of inquiring. +And then the Earl not only heard by word of mouth as much as he +wished to know, but, their chat becoming more intimate, the +schoolmaster drew upon paper a sketch of the disfigured head, +explaining with bated breath various details in the +representation.</p> +<p>‘It was very strange and terrible!’ said Lord +Uplandtowers, taking the sketch in his hand. ‘Neither +nose nor ears!’</p> +<p>A poor man in the town nearest to Knollingwood Hall, who +combined the art of sign-painting with ingenious mechanical +occupations, was sent for by Lord Uplandtowers to come to the +Hall on a day in that week when the Countess had gone on a short +visit to her parents. His employer made the man understand +that the business in which his assistance was demanded was to be +considered private, and money insured the observance of this +request. The lock of the cupboard was picked, and the +ingenious mechanic and painter, assisted by the +schoolmaster’s sketch, which Lord Uplandtowers had put in +his pocket, set to work upon the god-like countenance of the +statue under my lord’s direction. What the fire had +maimed in the original the chisel maimed in the copy. It +was a fiendish disfigurement, ruthlessly carried out, and was +rendered still more shocking by being tinted to the hues of life, +as life had been after the wreck.</p> +<p>Six hours after, when the workman was gone, Lord Uplandtowers +looked upon the result, and smiled grimly, and said:</p> +<p>‘A statue should represent a man as he appeared in life, +and that’s as he appeared. Ha! ha! But +’tis done to good purpose, and not idly.’</p> +<p>He locked the door of the closet with a skeleton key, and went +his way to fetch the Countess home.</p> +<p>That night she slept, but he kept awake. According to +the tale, she murmured soft words in her dream; and he knew that +the tender converse of her imaginings was held with one whom he +had supplanted but in name. At the end of her dream the +Countess of Uplandtowers awoke and arose, and then the enactment +of former nights was repeated. Her husband remained still +and listened. Two strokes sounded from the clock in the +pediment without, when, leaving the chamber-door ajar, she passed +along the corridor to the other end, where, as usual, she +obtained a light. So deep was the silence that he could +even from his bed hear her softly blowing the tinder to a glow +after striking the steel. She moved on into the boudoir, +and he heard, or fancied he heard, the turning of the key in the +closet-door. The next moment there came from that direction +a loud and prolonged shriek, which resounded to the farthest +corners of the house. It was repeated, and there was the +noise of a heavy fall.</p> +<p>Lord Uplandtowers sprang out of bed. He hastened along +the dark corridor to the door of the boudoir, which stood ajar, +and, by the light of the candle within, saw his poor young +Countess lying in a heap in her nightdress on the floor of the +closet. When he reached her side he found that she had +fainted, much to the relief of his fears that matters were +worse. He quickly shut up and locked in the hated image +which had done the mischief; and lifted his wife in his arms, +where in a few instants she opened her eyes. Pressing her +face to his without saying a word, he carried her back to her +room, endeavouring as he went to disperse her terrors by a laugh +in her ear, oddly compounded of causticity, predilection, and +brutality.</p> +<p>‘Ho—ho—ho!’ says he. +‘Frightened, dear one, hey? What a baby +’tis! Only a joke, sure, Barbara—a splendid +joke! But a baby should not go to closets at midnight to +look for the ghost of the dear departed! If it do it must +expect to be terrified at his +aspect—ho—ho—ho!’</p> +<p>When she was in her bed-chamber, and had quite come to +herself; though her nerves were still much shaken, he spoke to +her more sternly. ‘Now, my lady, answer me: do you +love him—eh?’</p> +<p>‘No—no!’ she faltered, shuddering, with her +expanded eyes fixed on her husband. ‘He is too +terrible—no, no!’</p> +<p>‘You are sure?’</p> +<p>‘Quite sure!’ replied the poor broken-spirited +Countess. But her natural elasticity asserted itself. +Next morning he again inquired of her: ‘Do you love him +now?’</p> +<p>She quailed under his gaze, but did not reply.</p> +<p>‘That means that you do still, by G---!’ he +continued.</p> +<p>‘It means that I will not tell an untruth, and do not +wish to incense my lord,’ she answered, with dignity.</p> +<p>‘Then suppose we go and have another look at +him?’ As he spoke, he suddenly took her by the wrist, +and turned as if to lead her towards the ghastly closet.</p> +<p>‘No—no! Oh—no!’ she cried, and +her desperate wriggle out of his hand revealed that the fright of +the night had left more impression upon her delicate soul than +superficially appeared.</p> +<p>‘Another dose or two, and she will be cured,’ he +said to himself.</p> +<p>It was now so generally known that the Earl and Countess were +not in accord, that he took no great trouble to disguise his +deeds in relation to this matter. During the day he ordered +four men with ropes and rollers to attend him in the +boudoir. When they arrived, the closet was open, and the +upper part of the statue tied up in canvas. He had it taken +to the sleeping-chamber. What followed is more or less +matter of conjecture. The story, as told to me, goes on to +say that, when Lady Uplandtowers retired with him that night, she +saw near the foot of the heavy oak four-poster, a tall dark +wardrobe, which had not stood there before; but she did not ask +what its presence meant.</p> +<p>‘I have had a little whim,’ he explained when they +were in the dark.</p> +<p>‘Have you?’ says she.</p> +<p>‘To erect a little shrine, as it may be +called.’</p> +<p>‘A little shrine?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; to one whom we both equally adore—eh? +I’ll show you what it contains.’</p> +<p>He pulled a cord which hung covered by the bed-curtains, and +the doors of the wardrobe slowly opened, disclosing that the +shelves within had been removed throughout, and the interior +adapted to receive the ghastly figure, which stood there as it +had stood in the boudoir, but with a wax-candle burning on each +side of it to throw the cropped and distorted features into +relief. She clutched him, uttered a low scream, and buried +her head in the bedclothes. ‘Oh, take it +away—please take it away!’ she implored.</p> +<p>‘All in good time namely, when you love me best,’ +he returned calmly. ‘You don’t quite +yet—eh?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know—I think—O Uplandtowers, +have mercy—I cannot bear it—O, in pity, take it +away!’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense; one gets accustomed to anything. Take +another gaze.’</p> +<p>In short, he allowed the doors to remain unclosed at the foot +of the bed, and the wax-tapers burning; and such was the strange +fascination of the grisly exhibition that a morbid curiosity took +possession of the Countess as she lay, and, at his repeated +request, she did again look out from the coverlet, shuddered, hid +her eyes, and looked again, all the while begging him to take it +away, or it would drive her out of her senses. But he would +not do so as yet, and the wardrobe was not locked till dawn.</p> +<p>The scene was repeated the next night. Firm in enforcing +his ferocious correctives, he continued the treatment till the +nerves of the poor lady were quivering in agony under the +virtuous tortures inflicted by her lord, to bring her truant +heart back to faithfulness.</p> +<p>The third night, when the scene had opened as usual, and she +lay staring with immense wild eyes at the horrid fascination, on +a sudden she gave an unnatural laugh; she laughed more and more, +staring at the image, till she literally shrieked with laughter: +then there was silence, and he found her to have become +insensible. He thought she had fainted, but soon saw that +the event was worse: she was in an epileptic fit. He +started up, dismayed by the sense that, like many other subtle +personages, he had been too exacting for his own interests. +Such love as he was capable of, though rather a selfish gloating +than a cherishing solicitude, was fanned into life on the +instant. He closed the wardrobe with the pulley, clasped +her in his arms, took her gently to the window, and did all he +could to restore her.</p> +<p>It was a long time before the Countess came to herself, and +when she did so, a considerable change seemed to have taken place +in her emotions. She flung her arms around him, and with +gasps of fear abjectly kissed him many times, at last bursting +into tears. She had never wept in this scene before.</p> +<p>‘You’ll take it away, dearest—you +will!’ she begged plaintively.</p> +<p>‘If you love me.’</p> +<p>‘I do—oh, I do!’</p> +<p>‘And hate him, and his memory?’</p> +<p>‘Yes—yes!’</p> +<p>‘Thoroughly?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot endure recollection of him!’ cried the +poor Countess slavishly. ‘It fills me with +shame—how could I ever be so depraved! I’ll +never behave badly again, Uplandtowers; and you will never put +the hated statue again before my eyes?’</p> +<p>He felt that he could promise with perfect safety. +‘Never,’ said he.</p> +<p>‘And then I’ll love you,’ she returned +eagerly, as if dreading lest the scourge should be applied +anew. ‘And I’ll never, never dream of thinking +a single thought that seems like faithlessness to my marriage +vow.’</p> +<p>The strange thing now was that this fictitious love wrung from +her by terror took on, through mere habit of enactment, a certain +quality of reality. A servile mood of attachment to the +Earl became distinctly visible in her contemporaneously with an +actual dislike for her late husband’s memory. The +mood of attachment grew and continued when the statue was +removed. A permanent revulsion was operant in her, which +intensified as time wore on. How fright could have effected +such a change of idiosyncrasy learned physicians alone can say; +but I believe such cases of reactionary instinct are not +unknown.</p> +<p>The upshot was that the cure became so permanent as to be +itself a new disease. She clung to him so tightly, that she +would not willingly be out of his sight for a moment. She +would have no sitting-room apart from his, though she could not +help starting when he entered suddenly to her. Her eyes +were well-nigh always fixed upon him. If he drove out, she +wished to go with him; his slightest civilities to other women +made her frantically jealous; till at length her very fidelity +became a burden to him, absorbing his time, and curtailing his +liberty, and causing him to curse and swear. If he ever +spoke sharply to her now, she did not revenge herself by flying +off to a mental world of her own; all that affection for another, +which had provided her with a resource, was now a cold black +cinder.</p> +<p>From that time the life of this scared and enervated +lady—whose existence might have been developed to so much +higher purpose but for the ignoble ambition of her parents and +the conventions of the time—was one of obsequious +amativeness towards a perverse and cruel man. Little +personal events came to her in quick succession—half a +dozen, eight, nine, ten such events,—in brief; she bore him +no less than eleven children in the eight following years, but +half of them came prematurely into the world, or died a few days +old; only one, a girl, attained to maturity; she in after years +became the wife of the Honourable Mr. Beltonleigh, who was +created Lord D’Almaine, as may be remembered.</p> +<p>There was no living son and heir. At length, completely +worn out in mind and body, Lady Uplandtowers was taken abroad by +her husband, to try the effect of a more genial climate upon her +wasted frame. But nothing availed to strengthen her, and +she died at Florence, a few months after her arrival in +Italy.</p> +<p>Contrary to expectation, the Earl of Uplandtowers did not +marry again. Such affection as existed in +him—strange, hard, brutal as it was—seemed +untransferable, and the title, as is known, passed at his death +to his nephew. Perhaps it may not be so generally known +that, during the enlargement of the Hall for the sixth Earl, +while digging in the grounds for the new foundations, the broken +fragments of a marble statue were unearthed. They were +submitted to various antiquaries, who said that, so far as the +damaged pieces would allow them to form an opinion, the statue +seemed to be that of a mutilated Roman satyr; or if not, an +allegorical figure of Death. Only one or two old +inhabitants guessed whose statue those fragments had +composed.</p> +<p>I should have added that, shortly after the death of the +Countess, an excellent sermon was preached by the Dean of +Melchester, the subject of which, though names were not +mentioned, was unquestionably suggested by the aforesaid +events. He dwelt upon the folly of indulgence in sensuous +love for a handsome form merely; and showed that the only +rational and virtuous growths of that affection were those based +upon intrinsic worth. In the case of the tender but +somewhat shallow lady whose life I have related, there is no +doubt that an infatuation for the person of young Willowes was +the chief feeling that induced her to marry him; which was the +more deplorable in that his beauty, by all tradition, was the +least of his recommendations, every report bearing out the +inference that he must have been a man of steadfast nature, +bright intelligence, and promising life.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The company thanked the old surgeon for his story, which the +rural dean declared to be a far more striking one than anything +he could hope to tell. An elderly member of the Club, who +was mostly called the Bookworm, said that a woman’s natural +instinct of fidelity would, indeed, send back her heart to a man +after his death in a truly wonderful manner sometimes—if +anything occurred to put before her forcibly the original +affection between them, and his original aspect in her +eyes,—whatever his inferiority may have been, social or +otherwise; and then a general conversation ensued upon the power +that a woman has of seeing the actual in the representation, the +reality in the dream—a power which (according to the +sentimental member) men have no faculty of equalling.</p> +<p>The rural dean thought that such cases as that related by the +surgeon were rather an illustration of passion electrified back +to life than of a latent, true affection. The story had +suggested that he should try to recount to them one which he had +used to hear in his youth, and which afforded an instance of the +latter and better kind of feeling, his heroine being also a lady +who had married beneath her, though he feared his narrative would +be of a much slighter kind than the surgeon’s. The +Club begged him to proceed, and the parson began.</p> +<h2>DAME THE THIRD—THE MARCHIONESS OF STONEHENGE<br /> +By the Rural Dean</h2> +<p>I would have you know, then, that a great many years ago there +lived in a classical mansion with which I used to be familiar, +standing not a hundred miles from the city of Melchester, a lady +whose personal charms were so rare and unparalleled that she was +courted, flattered, and spoilt by almost all the young noblemen +and gentlemen in that part of Wessex. For a time these +attentions pleased her well. But as, in the words of good +Robert South (whose sermons might be read much more than they +are), the most passionate lover of sport, if tied to follow his +hawks and hounds every day of his life, would find the pursuit +the greatest torment and calamity, and would fly to the mines and +galleys for his recreation, so did this lofty and beautiful lady +after a while become satiated with the constant iteration of what +she had in its novelty enjoyed; and by an almost natural +revulsion turned her regards absolutely netherward, socially +speaking. She perversely and passionately centred her +affection on quite a plain-looking young man of humble birth and +no position at all; though it is true that he was gentle and +delicate in nature, of good address, and guileless heart. +In short, he was the parish-clerk’s son, acting as +assistant to the land-steward of her father, the Earl of Avon, +with the hope of becoming some day a land-steward himself. +It should be said that perhaps the Lady Caroline (as she was +called) was a little stimulated in this passion by the discovery +that a young girl of the village already loved the young man +fondly, and that he had paid some attentions to her, though +merely of a casual and good-natured kind.</p> +<p>Since his occupation brought him frequently to the manor-house +and its environs, Lady Caroline could make ample opportunities of +seeing and speaking to him. She had, in Chaucer’s +phrase, ‘all the craft of fine loving’ at her +fingers’ ends, and the young man, being of a +readily-kindling heart, was quick to notice the tenderness in her +eyes and voice. He could not at first believe in his good +fortune, having no understanding of her weariness of more +artificial men; but a time comes when the stupidest sees in an +eye the glance of his other half; and it came to him, who was +quite the reverse of dull. As he gained confidence +accidental encounters led to encounters by design; till at length +when they were alone together there was no reserve on the +matter. They whispered tender words as other lovers do, and +were as devoted a pair as ever was seen. But not a ray or +symptom of this attachment was allowed to show itself to the +outer world.</p> +<p>Now, as she became less and less scrupulous towards him under +the influence of her affection, and he became more and more +reverential under the influence of his, and they looked the +situation in the face together, their condition seemed +intolerable in its hopelessness. That she could ever ask to +be allowed to marry him, or could hold her tongue and quietly +renounce him, was equally beyond conception. They resolved +upon a third course, possessing neither of the disadvantages of +these two: to wed secretly, and live on in outward appearance the +same as before. In this they differed from the lovers of my +friend’s story.</p> +<p>Not a soul in the parental mansion guessed, when Lady Caroline +came coolly into the hall one day after a visit to her aunt, +that, during that visit, her lover and herself had found an +opportunity of uniting themselves till death should part +them. Yet such was the fact; the young woman who rode fine +horses, and drove in pony-chaises, and was saluted deferentially +by every one, and the young man who trudged about, and directed +the tree-felling, and the laying out of fish-ponds in the park, +were husband and wife.</p> +<p>As they had planned, so they acted to the letter for the space +of a month and more, clandestinely meeting when and where they +best could do so; both being supremely happy and content. +To be sure, towards the latter part of that month, when the first +wild warmth of her love had gone off, the Lady Caroline sometimes +wondered within herself how she, who might have chosen a peer of +the realm, baronet, knight; or, if serious-minded, a bishop or +judge of the more gallant sort who prefer young wives, could have +brought herself to do a thing so rash as to make this marriage; +particularly when, in their private meetings, she perceived that +though her young husband was full of ideas, and fairly well read, +they had not a single social experience in common. It was +his custom to visit her after nightfall, in her own house, when +he could find no opportunity for an interview elsewhere; and to +further this course she would contrive to leave unfastened a +window on the ground-floor overlooking the lawn, by entering +which a back stair-case was accessible; so that he could climb up +to her apartments, and gain audience of his lady when the house +was still.</p> +<p>One dark midnight, when he had not been able to see her during +the day, he made use of this secret method, as he had done many +times before; and when they had remained in company about an hour +he declared that it was time for him to descend.</p> +<p>He would have stayed longer, but that the interview had been a +somewhat painful one. What she had said to him that night +had much excited and angered him, for it had revealed a change in +her; cold reason had come to his lofty wife; she was beginning to +have more anxiety about her own position and prospects than +ardour for him. Whether from the agitation of this +perception or not, he was seized with a spasm; he gasped, rose, +and in moving towards the window for air he uttered in a short +thick whisper, ‘Oh, my heart!’</p> +<p>With his hand upon his chest he sank down to the floor before +he had gone another step. By the time that she had +relighted the candle, which had been extinguished in case any eye +in the opposite grounds should witness his egress, she found that +his poor heart had ceased to beat; and there rushed upon her mind +what his cottage-friends had once told her, that he was liable to +attacks of heart-disease, one of which, the doctor had informed +them, might some day carry him off.</p> +<p>Accustomed as she was to doctoring the other parishioners, +nothing that she could effect upon him in that kind made any +difference whatever; and his stillness, and the increasing +coldness of his feet and hands, disclosed too surely to the +affrighted young woman that her husband was dead indeed. +For more than an hour, however, she did not abandon her efforts +to restore him; when she fully realized the fact that he was a +corpse she bent over his body, distracted and bewildered as to +what step she next should take.</p> +<p>Her first feelings had undoubtedly been those of passionate +grief at the loss of him; her second thoughts were concern at her +own position as the daughter of an earl. ‘Oh, why, +why, my unfortunate husband, did you die in my chamber at this +hour!’ she said piteously to the corpse. ‘Why +not have died in your own cottage if you would die! Then +nobody would ever have known of our imprudent union, and no +syllable would have been breathed of how I mismated myself for +love of you!’</p> +<p>The clock in the courtyard striking the hour of one aroused +Lady Caroline from the stupor into which she had fallen, and she +stood up, and went towards the door. To awaken and tell her +mother seemed her only way out of this terrible situation; yet +when she put her hand on the key to unlock it she withdrew +herself again. It would be impossible to call even her +mother’s assistance without risking a revelation to all the +world through the servants; while if she could remove the body +unassisted to a distance she might avert suspicion of their union +even now. This thought of immunity from the social +consequences of her rash act, of renewed freedom, was indubitably +a relief to her, for, as has been said, the constraint and +riskiness of her position had begun to tell upon the Lady +Caroline’s nerves.</p> +<p>She braced herself for the effort, and hastily dressed +herself; and then dressed him. Tying his dead hands +together with a handkerchief; she laid his arms round her +shoulders, and bore him to the landing and down the narrow +stairs. Reaching the bottom by the window, she let his body +slide slowly over the sill till it lay on the ground +without. She then climbed over the window-sill herself, +and, leaving the sash open, dragged him on to the lawn with a +rustle not louder than the rustle of a broom. There she +took a securer hold, and plunged with him under the trees.</p> +<p>Away from the precincts of the house she could apply herself +more vigorously to her task, which was a heavy one enough for +her, robust as she was; and the exertion and fright she had +already undergone began to tell upon her by the time she reached +the corner of a beech-plantation which intervened between the +manor-house and the village. Here she was so nearly +exhausted that she feared she might have to leave him on the +spot. But she plodded on after a while, and keeping upon +the grass at every opportunity she stood at last opposite the +poor young man’s garden-gate, where he lived with his +father, the parish-clerk. How she accomplished the end of +her task Lady Caroline never quite knew; but, to avoid leaving +traces in the road, she carried him bodily across the gravel, and +laid him down at the door. Perfectly aware of his ways of +coming and going, she searched behind the shutter for the cottage +door-key, which she placed in his cold hand. Then she +kissed his face for the last time, and with silent little sobs +bade him farewell.</p> +<p>Lady Caroline retraced her steps, and reached the mansion +without hindrance; and to her great relief found the window open +just as she had left it. When she had climbed in she +listened attentively, fastened the window behind her, and +ascending the stairs noiselessly to her room, set everything in +order, and returned to bed.</p> +<p>The next morning it was speedily echoed around that the +amiable and gentle young villager had been found dead outside his +father’s door, which he had apparently been in the act of +unlocking when he fell. The circumstances were sufficiently +exceptional to justify an inquest, at which syncope from +heart-disease was ascertained to be beyond doubt the explanation +of his death, and no more was said about the matter then. +But, after the funeral, it was rumoured that some man who had +been returning late from a distant horse-fair had seen in the +gloom of night a person, apparently a woman, dragging a heavy +body of some sort towards the cottage-gate, which, by the light +of after events, would seem to have been the corpse of the young +fellow. His clothes were thereupon examined more +particularly than at first, with the result that marks of +friction were visible upon them here and there, precisely +resembling such as would be left by dragging on the ground.</p> +<p>Our beautiful and ingenious Lady Caroline was now in great +consternation; and began to think that, after all, it might have +been better to honestly confess the truth. But having +reached this stage without discovery or suspicion, she determined +to make another effort towards concealment; and a bright idea +struck her as a means of securing it. I think I mentioned +that, before she cast eyes on the unfortunate steward’s +clerk, he had been the beloved of a certain village damsel, the +woodman’s daughter, his neighbour, to whom he had paid some +attentions; and possibly he was beloved of her still. At +any rate, the Lady Caroline’s influence on the estates of +her father being considerable, she resolved to seek an interview +with the young girl in furtherance of her plan to save her +reputation, about which she was now exceedingly anxious; for by +this time, the fit being over, she began to be ashamed of her mad +passion for her late husband, and almost wished she had never +seen him.</p> +<p>In the course of her parish-visiting she lighted on the young +girl without much difficulty, and found her looking pale and sad, +and wearing a simple black gown, which she had put on out of +respect for the young man’s memory, whom she had tenderly +loved, though he had not loved her.</p> +<p>‘Ah, you have lost your lover, Milly,’ said Lady +Caroline.</p> +<p>The young woman could not repress her tears. ‘My +lady, he was not quite my lover,’ she said. +‘But I was his—and now he is dead I don’t care +to live any more!’</p> +<p>‘Can you keep a secret about him?’ asks the lady; +‘one in which his honour is involved—which is known +to me alone, but should be known to you?’</p> +<p>The girl readily promised, and, indeed, could be safely +trusted on such a subject, so deep was her affection for the +youth she mourned.</p> +<p>‘Then meet me at his grave to-night, half-an-hour after +sunset, and I will tell it to you,’ says the other.</p> +<p>In the dusk of that spring evening the two shadowy figures of +the young women converged upon the assistant-steward’s +newly-turfed mound; and at that solemn place and hour, the one of +birth and beauty unfolded her tale: how she had loved him and +married him secretly; how he had died in her chamber; and how, to +keep her secret, she had dragged him to his own door.</p> +<p>‘Married him, my lady!’ said the rustic maiden, +starting back.</p> +<p>‘I have said so,’ replied Lady Caroline. +‘But it was a mad thing, and a mistaken course. He +ought to have married you. You, Milly, were peculiarly +his. But you lost him.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the poor girl; ‘and for that +they laughed at me. “Ha—ha, you mid love him, +Milly,” they said; “but he will not love +you!”’</p> +<p>‘Victory over such unkind jeerers would be sweet,’ +said Lady Caroline. ‘You lost him in life; but you +may have him in death <i>as if</i> you had had him in life; and +so turn the tables upon them.’</p> +<p>‘How?’ said the breathless girl.</p> +<p>The young lady then unfolded her plan, which was that Milly +should go forward and declare that the young man had contracted a +secret marriage (as he truly had done); that it was with her, +Milly, his sweetheart; that he had been visiting her in her +cottage on the evening of his death; when, on finding he was a +corpse, she had carried him to his house to prevent discovery by +her parents, and that she had meant to keep the whole matter a +secret till the rumours afloat had forced it from her.</p> +<p>‘And how shall I prove this?’ said the +woodman’s daughter, amazed at the boldness of the +proposal.</p> +<p>‘Quite sufficiently. You can say, if necessary, +that you were married to him at the church of St. Michael, in +Bath City, in my name, as the first that occurred to you, to +escape detection. That was where he married me. I +will support you in this.’</p> +<p>‘Oh—I don’t quite like—’</p> +<p>‘If you will do so,’ said the lady peremptorily, +‘I will always be your father’s friend and yours; if +not, it will be otherwise. And I will give you my +wedding-ring, which you shall wear as yours.’</p> +<p>‘Have you worn it, my lady?’</p> +<p>‘Only at night.’</p> +<p>There was not much choice in the matter, and Milly +consented. Then this noble lady took from her bosom the +ring she had never been able openly to exhibit, and, grasping the +young girl’s hand, slipped it upon her finger as she stood +upon her lover’s grave.</p> +<p>Milly shivered, and bowed her head, saying, ‘I feel as +if I had become a corpse’s bride!’</p> +<p>But from that moment the maiden was heart and soul in the +substitution. A blissful repose came over her spirit. +It seemed to her that she had secured in death him whom in life +she had vainly idolized; and she was almost content. After +that the lady handed over to the young man’s new wife all +the little mementoes and trinkets he had given herself; even to a +locket containing his hair.</p> +<p>The next day the girl made her so-called confession, which the +simple mourning she had already worn, without stating for whom, +seemed to bear out; and soon the story of the little romance +spread through the village and country-side, almost as far as +Melchester. It was a curious psychological fact that, +having once made the avowal, Milly seemed possessed with a spirit +of ecstasy at her position. With the liberal sum of money +supplied to her by Lady Caroline she now purchased the garb of a +widow, and duly appeared at church in her weeds, her simple face +looking so sweet against its margin of crape that she was almost +envied her state by the other village-girls of her age. And +when a woman’s sorrow for her beloved can maim her young +life so obviously as it had done Milly’s there was, in +truth, little subterfuge in the case. Her explanation +tallied so well with the details of her lover’s latter +movements—those strange absences and sudden returnings, +which had occasionally puzzled his friends—that nobody +supposed for a moment that the second actor in these secret +nuptials was other than she. The actual and whole truth +would indeed have seemed a preposterous assertion beside this +plausible one, by reason of the lofty demeanour of the Lady +Caroline and the unassuming habits of the late villager. +There being no inheritance in question, not a soul took the +trouble to go to the city church, forty miles off, and search the +registers for marriage signatures bearing out so humble a +romance.</p> +<p>In a short time Milly caused a decent tombstone to be erected +over her nominal husband’s grave, whereon appeared the +statement that it was placed there by his heartbroken widow, +which, considering that the payment for it came from Lady +Caroline and the grief from Milly, was as truthful as such +inscriptions usually are, and only required pluralizing to render +it yet more nearly so.</p> +<p>The impressionable and complaisant Milly, in her character of +widow, took delight in going to his grave every day, and +indulging in sorrow which was a positive luxury to her. She +placed fresh flowers on his grave, and so keen was her emotional +imaginativeness that she almost believed herself to have been his +wife indeed as she walked to and fro in her garb of woe. +One afternoon, Milly being busily engaged in this labour of love +at the grave, Lady Caroline passed outside the churchyard wall +with some of her visiting friends, who, seeing Milly there, +watched her actions with interest, remarked upon the pathos of +the scene, and upon the intense affection the young man must have +felt for such a tender creature as Milly. A strange light, +as of pain, shot from the Lady Caroline’s eye, as if for +the first time she begrudged to the young girl the position she +had been at such pains to transfer to her; it showed that a +slumbering affection for her husband still had life in Lady +Caroline, obscured and stifled as it was by social +considerations.</p> +<p>An end was put to this smooth arrangement by the sudden +appearance in the churchyard one day of the Lady Caroline, when +Milly had come there on her usual errand of laying flowers. +Lady Caroline had been anxiously awaiting her behind the chancel, +and her countenance was pale and agitated.</p> +<p>‘Milly!’ she said, ‘come here! I +don’t know how to say to you what I am going to say. +I am half dead!’</p> +<p>‘I am sorry for your ladyship,’ says Milly, +wondering.</p> +<p>‘Give me that ring!’ says the lady, snatching at +the girl’s left hand.</p> +<p>Milly drew it quickly away.</p> +<p>‘I tell you give it to me!’ repeated Caroline, +almost fiercely. ‘Oh—but you don’t know +why? I am in a grief and a trouble I did not +expect!’ And Lady Caroline whispered a few words to +the girl.</p> +<p>‘O my lady!’ said the thunderstruck Milly. +‘What <i>will</i> you do?’</p> +<p>‘You must say that your statement was a wicked lie, an +invention, a scandal, a deadly sin—that I told you to make +it to screen me! That it was I whom he married at +Bath. In short, we must tell the truth, or I am +ruined—body, mind, and reputation—for +ever!’</p> +<p>But there is a limit to the flexibility of gentle-souled +women. Milly by this time had so grown to the idea of being +one flesh with this young man, of having the right to bear his +name as she bore it; had so thoroughly come to regard him as her +husband, to dream of him as her husband, to speak of him as her +husband, that she could not relinquish him at a moment’s +peremptory notice.</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ she said desperately, ‘I cannot, I +will not give him up! Your ladyship took him away from me +alive, and gave him back to me only when he was dead. Now I +will keep him! I am truly his widow. More truly than +you, my lady! for I love him and mourn for him, and call myself +by his dear name, and your ladyship does neither!’</p> +<p>‘I <i>do</i> love him!’ cries Lady Caroline with +flashing eyes, ‘and I cling to him, and won’t let him +go to such as you! How can I, when he is the father of this +poor babe that’s coming to me? I must have him back +again! Milly, Milly, can’t you pity and understand +me, perverse girl that you are, and the miserable plight that I +am in? Oh, this precipitancy—it is the ruin of +women! Why did I not consider, and wait! Come, give +me back all that I have given you, and assure me you will support +me in confessing the truth!’</p> +<p>‘Never, never!’ persisted Milly, with woe-begone +passionateness. ‘Look at this headstone! Look +at my gown and bonnet of crape—this ring: listen to the +name they call me by! My character is worth as much to me +as yours is to you! After declaring my Love mine, myself +his, taking his name, making his death my own particular sorrow, +how can I say it was not so? No such dishonour for +me! I will outswear you, my lady; and I shall be +believed. My story is so much the more likely that yours +will be thought false. But, O please, my lady, do not drive +me to this! In pity let me keep him!’</p> +<p>The poor nominal widow exhibited such anguish at a proposal +which would have been truly a bitter humiliation to her, that +Lady Caroline was warmed to pity in spite of her own +condition.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I see your position,’ she answered. +‘But think of mine! What can I do? Without your +support it would seem an invention to save me from disgrace; even +if I produced the register, the love of scandal in the world is +such that the multitude would slur over the fact, say it was a +fabrication, and believe your story. I do not know who were +the witnesses, or anything!’</p> +<p>In a few minutes these two poor young women felt, as so many +in a strait have felt before, that union was their greatest +strength, even now; and they consulted calmly together. The +result of their deliberations was that Milly went home as usual, +and Lady Caroline also, the latter confessing that very night to +the Countess her mother of the marriage, and to nobody else in +the world. And, some time after, Lady Caroline and her +mother went away to London, where a little while later still they +were joined by Milly, who was supposed to have left the village +to proceed to a watering-place in the North for the benefit of +her health, at the expense of the ladies of the Manor, who had +been much interested in her state of lonely and defenceless +widowhood.</p> +<p>Early the next year the widow Milly came home with an infant +in her arms, the family at the Manor House having meanwhile gone +abroad. They did not return from their tour till the autumn +ensuing, by which time Milly and the child had again departed +from the cottage of her father the woodman, Milly having attained +to the dignity of dwelling in a cottage of her own, many miles to +the eastward of her native village; a comfortable little +allowance had moreover been settled on her and the child for +life, through the instrumentality of Lady Caroline and her +mother.</p> +<p>Two or three years passed away, and the Lady Caroline married +a nobleman—the Marquis of Stonehenge—considerably her +senior, who had wooed her long and phlegmatically. He was +not rich, but she led a placid life with him for many years, +though there was no child of the marriage. Meanwhile +Milly’s boy, as the youngster was called, and as Milly +herself considered him, grew up, and throve wonderfully, and +loved her as she deserved to be loved for her devotion to him, in +whom she every day traced more distinctly the lineaments of the +man who had won her girlish heart, and kept it even in the +tomb.</p> +<p>She educated him as well as she could with the limited means +at her disposal, for the allowance had never been increased, Lady +Caroline, or the Marchioness of Stonehenge as she now was, +seeming by degrees to care little what had become of them. +Milly became extremely ambitious on the boy’s account; she +pinched herself almost of necessaries to send him to the Grammar +School in the town to which they retired, and at twenty he +enlisted in a cavalry regiment, joining it with a deliberate +intent of making the Army his profession, and not in a freak of +idleness. His exceptional attainments, his manly bearing, +his steady conduct, speedily won him promotion, which was +furthered by the serious war in which this country was at that +time engaged. On his return to England after the peace he +had risen to the rank of riding-master, and was soon after +advanced another stage, and made quartermaster, though still a +young man.</p> +<p>His mother—his corporeal mother, that is, the +Marchioness of Stonehenge—heard tidings of this unaided +progress; it reawakened her maternal instincts, and filled her +with pride. She became keenly interested in her successful +soldier-son; and as she grew older much wished to see him again, +particularly when, the Marquis dying, she was left a solitary and +childless widow. Whether or not she would have gone to him +of her own impulse I cannot say; but one day, when she was +driving in an open carriage in the outskirts of a neighbouring +town, the troops lying at the barracks hard by passed her in +marching order. She eyed them narrowly, and in the finest +of the horsemen recognized her son from his likeness to her first +husband.</p> +<p>This sight of him doubly intensified the motherly emotions +which had lain dormant in her for so many years, and she wildly +asked herself how she could so have neglected him? Had she +possessed the true courage of affection she would have owned to +her first marriage, and have reared him as her son! What +would it have mattered if she had never obtained this precious +coronet of pearls and gold leaves, by comparison with the gain of +having the love and protection of such a noble and worthy +son? These and other sad reflections cut the gloomy and +solitary lady to the heart; and she repented of her pride in +disclaiming her first husband more bitterly than she had ever +repented of her infatuation in marrying him.</p> +<p>Her yearning was so strong, that at length it seemed to her +that she could not live without announcing herself to him as his +mother. Come what might, she would do it: late as it was, +she would have him away from that woman whom she began to hate +with the fierceness of a deserted heart, for having taken her +place as the mother of her only child. She felt confidently +enough that her son would only too gladly exchange a +cottage-mother for one who was a peeress of the realm. +Being now, in her widowhood, free to come and go as she chose, +without question from anybody, Lady Stonehenge started next day +for the little town where Milly yet lived, still in her robes of +sable for the lost lover of her youth.</p> +<p>‘He is <i>my</i> son,’ said the Marchioness, as +soon as she was alone in the cottage with Milly. ‘You +must give him back to me, now that I am in a position in which I +can defy the world’s opinion. I suppose he comes to +see you continually?’</p> +<p>‘Every month since he returned from the war, my +lady. And sometimes he stays two or three days, and takes +me about seeing sights everywhere!’ She spoke with +quiet triumph.</p> +<p>‘Well, you will have to give him up,’ said the +Marchioness calmly. ‘It shall not be the worse for +you—you may see him when you choose. I am going to +avow my first marriage, and have him with me.’</p> +<p>‘You forget that there are two to be reckoned with, my +lady. Not only me, but himself.’</p> +<p>‘That can be arranged. You don’t suppose +that he wouldn’t—’ But not wishing to +insult Milly by comparing their positions, she said, ‘He is +my own flesh and blood, not yours.’</p> +<p>‘Flesh and blood’s nothing!’ said Milly, +flashing with as much scorn as a cottager could show to a +peeress, which, in this case, was not so little as may be +supposed. ‘But I will agree to put it to him, and let +him settle it for himself.’</p> +<p>‘That’s all I require,’ said Lady +Stonehenge. ‘You must ask him to come, and I will +meet him here.’</p> +<p>The soldier was written to, and the meeting took place. +He was not so much astonished at the disclosure of his parentage +as Lady Stonehenge had been led to expect, having known for years +that there was a little mystery about his birth. His manner +towards the Marchioness, though respectful, was less warm than +she could have hoped. The alternatives as to his choice of +a mother were put before him. His answer amazed and +stupefied her.</p> +<p>‘No, my lady,’ he said. ‘Thank you +much, but I prefer to let things be as they have been. My +father’s name is mine in any case. You see, my lady, +you cared little for me when I was weak and helpless; why should +I come to you now I am strong? She, dear devoted soul +[pointing to Milly], tended me from my birth, watched over me, +nursed me when I was ill, and deprived herself of many a little +comfort to push me on. I cannot love another mother as I +love her. She <i>is</i> my mother, and I will always be her +son!’ As he spoke he put his manly arm round +Milly’s neck, and kissed her with the tenderest +affection.</p> +<p>The agony of the poor Marchioness was pitiable. +‘You kill me!’ she said, between her shaking +sobs. ‘Cannot +you—love—me—too?’</p> +<p>‘No, my lady. If I must say it, you were ashamed +of my poor father, who was a sincere and honest man; therefore, I +am ashamed of you.’</p> +<p>Nothing would move him; and the suffering woman at last +gasped, ‘Cannot—oh, cannot you give one kiss to +me—as you did to her? It is not much—it is all +I ask—all!’</p> +<p>‘Certainly,’ he replied.</p> +<p>He kissed her coldly, and the painful scene came to an +end. That day was the beginning of death to the unfortunate +Marchioness of Stonehenge. It was in the perverseness of +her human heart that his denial of her should add fuel to the +fire of her craving for his love. How long afterwards she +lived I do not know with any exactness, but it was no great +length of time. That anguish that is sharper than a +serpent’s tooth wore her out soon. Utterly reckless +of the world, its ways, and its opinions, she allowed her story +to become known; and when the welcome end supervened (which, I +grieve to say, she refused to lighten by the consolations of +religion), a broken heart was the truest phrase in which to sum +up its cause.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The rural dean having concluded, some observations upon his +tale were made in due course. The sentimental member said +that Lady Caroline’s history afforded a sad instance of how +an honest human affection will become shamefaced and mean under +the frost of class-division and social prejudices. She +probably deserved some pity; though her offspring, before he grew +up to man’s estate, had deserved more. There was no +pathos like the pathos of childhood, when a child found itself in +a world where it was not wanted, and could not understand the +reason why. A tale by the speaker, further illustrating the +same subject, though with different results from the last, +naturally followed.</p> +<h2>DAME THE FOURTH—LADY MOTTISFONT<br /> +By the Sentimental Member</h2> +<p>Of all the romantic towns in Wessex, Wintoncester is probably +the most convenient for meditative people to live in; since there +you have a cathedral with a nave so long that it affords space in +which to walk and summon your remoter moods without continually +turning on your heel, or seeming to do more than take an +afternoon stroll under cover from the rain or sun. In an +uninterrupted course of nearly three hundred steps eastward, and +again nearly three hundred steps westward amid those magnificent +tombs, you can, for instance, compare in the most leisurely way +the dry dustiness which ultimately pervades the persons of kings +and bishops with the damper dustiness that is usually the final +shape of commoners, curates, and others who take their last rest +out of doors. Then, if you are in love, you can, by +sauntering in the chapels and behind the episcopal chantries with +the bright-eyed one, so steep and mellow your ecstasy in the +solemnities around, that it will assume a rarer and finer +tincture, even more grateful to the understanding, if not to the +senses, than that form of the emotion which arises from such +companionship in spots where all is life, and growth, and +fecundity.</p> +<p>It was in this solemn place, whither they had withdrawn from +the sight of relatives on one cold day in March, that Sir Ashley +Mottisfont asked in marriage, as his second wife, Philippa, the +gentle daughter of plain Squire Okehall. Her life had been +an obscure one thus far; while Sir Ashley, though not a rich man, +had a certain distinction about him; so that everybody thought +what a convenient, elevating, and, in a word, blessed match it +would be for such a supernumerary as she. Nobody thought so +more than the amiable girl herself. She had been smitten +with such affection for him that, when she walked the cathedral +aisles at his side on the before-mentioned day, she did not know +that her feet touched hard pavement; it seemed to her rather that +she was floating in space. Philippa was an ecstatic, +heart-thumping maiden, and could not understand how she had +deserved to have sent to her such an illustrious lover, such a +travelled personage, such a handsome man.</p> +<p>When he put the question, it was in no clumsy language, such +as the ordinary bucolic county landlords were wont to use on like +quivering occasions, but as elegantly as if he had been taught it +in Enfield’s <i>Speaker</i>. Yet he hesitated a +little—for he had something to add.</p> +<p>‘My pretty Philippa,’ he said (she was not very +pretty by the way), ‘I have, you must know, a little girl +dependent upon me: a little waif I found one day in a patch of +wild oats [such was this worthy baronet’s humour] when I +was riding home: a little nameless creature, whom I wish to take +care of till she is old enough to take care of herself; and to +educate in a plain way. She is only fifteen months old, and +is at present in the hands of a kind villager’s wife in my +parish. Will you object to give some attention to the +little thing in her helplessness?’</p> +<p>It need hardly be said that our innocent young lady, loving +him so deeply and joyfully as she did, replied that she would do +all she could for the nameless child; and, shortly afterwards, +the pair were married in the same cathedral that had echoed the +whispers of his declaration, the officiating minister being the +Bishop himself; a venerable and experienced man, so well +accomplished in uniting people who had a mind for that sort of +experiment, that the couple, with some sense of surprise, found +themselves one while they were still vaguely gazing at each other +as two independent beings.</p> +<p>After this operation they went home to Deansleigh Park, and +made a beginning of living happily ever after. Lady +Mottisfont, true to her promise, was always running down to the +village during the following weeks to see the baby whom her +husband had so mysteriously lighted on during his ride +home—concerning which interesting discovery she had her own +opinion; but being so extremely amiable and affectionate that she +could have loved stocks and stones if there had been no living +creatures to love, she uttered none of her thoughts. The +little thing, who had been christened Dorothy, took to Lady +Mottisfont as if the baronet’s young wife had been her +mother; and at length Philippa grew so fond of the child that she +ventured to ask her husband if she might have Dorothy in her own +home, and bring her up carefully, just as if she were her +own. To this he answered that, though remarks might be made +thereon, he had no objection; a fact which was obvious, Sir +Ashley seeming rather pleased than otherwise with the +proposal.</p> +<p>After this they lived quietly and uneventfully for two or +three years at Sir Ashley Mottisfont’s residence in that +part of England, with as near an approach to bliss as the climate +of this country allows. The child had been a godsend to +Philippa, for there seemed no great probability of her having one +of her own: and she wisely regarded the possession of Dorothy as +a special kindness of Providence, and did not worry her mind at +all as to Dorothy’s possible origin. Being a tender +and impulsive creature, she loved her husband without criticism, +exhaustively and religiously, and the child not much +otherwise. She watched the little foundling as if she had +been her own by nature, and Dorothy became a great solace to her +when her husband was absent on pleasure or business; and when he +came home he looked pleased to see how the two had won each +other’s hearts. Sir Ashley would kiss his wife, and +his wife would kiss little Dorothy, and little Dorothy would kiss +Sir Ashley, and after this triangular burst of affection Lady +Mottisfont would say, ‘Dear me—I forget she is not +mine!’</p> +<p>‘What does it matter?’ her husband would +reply. ‘Providence is fore-knowing. He has sent +us this one because he is not intending to send us one by any +other channel.’</p> +<p>Their life was of the simplest. Since his travels the +baronet had taken to sporting and farming; while Philippa was a +pattern of domesticity. Their pleasures were all +local. They retired early to rest, and rose with the +cart-horses and whistling waggoners. They knew the names of +every bird and tree not exceptionally uncommon, and could +foretell the weather almost as well as anxious farmers and old +people with corns.</p> +<p>One day Sir Ashley Mottisfont received a letter, which he +read, and musingly laid down on the table without remark.</p> +<p>‘What is it, dearest?’ asked his wife, glancing at +the sheet.</p> +<p>‘Oh, it is from an old lawyer at Bath whom I used to +know. He reminds me of something I said to him four or five +years ago—some little time before we were +married—about Dorothy.’</p> +<p>‘What about her?’</p> +<p>‘It was a casual remark I made to him, when I thought +you might not take kindly to her, that if he knew a lady who was +anxious to adopt a child, and could insure a good home to +Dorothy, he was to let me know.’</p> +<p>‘But that was when you had nobody to take care of +her,’ she said quickly. ‘How absurd of him to +write now! Does he know you are married? He must, +surely.’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes!’</p> +<p>He handed her the letter. The solicitor stated that a +widow-lady of position, who did not at present wish her name to +be disclosed, had lately become a client of his while taking the +waters, and had mentioned to him that she would like a little +girl to bring up as her own, if she could be certain of finding +one of good and pleasing disposition; and, the better to insure +this, she would not wish the child to be too young for judging +her qualities. He had remembered Sir Ashley’s +observation to him a long while ago, and therefore brought the +matter before him. It would be an excellent home for the +little girl—of that he was positive—if she had not +already found such a home.</p> +<p>‘But it is absurd of the man to write so long +after!’ said Lady Mottisfont, with a lumpiness about the +back of her throat as she thought how much Dorothy had become to +her. ‘I suppose it was when you first—found +her—that you told him this?’</p> +<p>‘Exactly—it was then.’</p> +<p>He fell into thought, and neither Sir Ashley nor Lady +Mottisfont took the trouble to answer the lawyer’s letter; +and so the matter ended for the time.</p> +<p>One day at dinner, on their return from a short absence in +town, whither they had gone to see what the world was doing, hear +what it was saying, and to make themselves generally fashionable +after rusticating for so long—on this occasion, I say, they +learnt from some friend who had joined them at dinner that +Fernell Hall—the manorial house of the estate next their +own, which had been offered on lease by reason of the +impecuniosity of its owner—had been taken for a term by a +widow lady, an Italian Contessa, whose name I will not mention +for certain reasons which may by and by appear. Lady +Mottisfont expressed her surprise and interest at the probability +of having such a neighbour. ‘Though, if I had been +born in Italy, I think I should have liked to remain +there,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘She is not Italian, though her husband was,’ said +Sir Ashley.</p> +<p>‘Oh, you have heard about her before now?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; they were talking of her at Grey’s the other +evening. She is English.’ And then, as her +husband said no more about the lady, the friend who was dining +with them told Lady Mottisfont that the Countess’s father +had speculated largely in East-India Stock, in which immense +fortunes were being made at that time; through this his daughter +had found herself enormously wealthy at his death, which had +occurred only a few weeks after the death of her husband. +It was supposed that the marriage of an enterprising English +speculator’s daughter to a poor foreign nobleman had been +matter of arrangement merely. As soon as the +Countess’s widowhood was a little further advanced she +would, no doubt, be the mark of all the schemers who came near +her, for she was still quite young. But at present she +seemed to desire quiet, and avoided society and town.</p> +<p>Some weeks after this time Sir Ashley Mottisfont sat looking +fixedly at his lady for many moments. He said:</p> +<p>‘It might have been better for Dorothy if the Countess +had taken her. She is so wealthy in comparison with +ourselves, and could have ushered the girl into the great world +more effectually than we ever shall be able to do.’</p> +<p>‘The Contessa take Dorothy?’ said Lady Mottisfont +with a start. ‘What—was she the lady who wished +to adopt her?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; she was staying at Bath when Lawyer Gayton wrote +to me.’</p> +<p>‘But how do you know all this, Ashley?’</p> +<p>He showed a little hesitation. ‘Oh, I’ve +seen her,’ he says. ‘You know, she drives to +the meet sometimes, though she does not ride; and she has +informed me that she was the lady who inquired of +Gayton.’</p> +<p>‘You have talked to her as well as seen her, +then?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, several times; everybody has.’</p> +<p>‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ says his +lady. ‘I had quite forgotten to call upon her. +I’ll go to-morrow, or soon . . . But I can’t think, +Ashley, how you can say that it might have been better for +Dorothy to have gone to her; she is so much our own now that I +cannot admit any such conjectures as those, even in +jest.’ Her eyes reproached him so eloquently that Sir +Ashley Mottisfont did not answer.</p> +<p>Lady Mottisfont did not hunt any more than the Anglo-Italian +Countess did; indeed, she had become so absorbed in household +matters and in Dorothy’s wellbeing that she had no mind to +waste a minute on mere enjoyments. As she had said, to talk +coolly of what might have been the best destination in days past +for a child to whom they had become so attached seemed quite +barbarous, and she could not understand how her husband should +consider the point so abstractedly; for, as will probably have +been guessed, Lady Mottisfont long before this time, if she had +not done so at the very beginning, divined Sir Ashley’s +true relation to Dorothy. But the baronet’s wife was +so discreetly meek and mild that she never told him of her +surmise, and took what Heaven had sent her without cavil, her +generosity in this respect having been bountifully rewarded by +the new life she found in her love for the little girl.</p> +<p>Her husband recurred to the same uncomfortable subject when, a +few days later, they were speaking of travelling abroad. He +said that it was almost a pity, if they thought of going, that +they had not fallen in with the Countess’s wish. That +lady had told him that she had met Dorothy walking with her +nurse, and that she had never seen a child she liked so well.</p> +<p>‘What—she covets her still? How impertinent +of the woman!’ said Lady Mottisfont.</p> +<p>‘She seems to do so . . . You see, dearest Philippa, the +advantage to Dorothy would have been that the Countess would have +adopted her legally, and have made her as her own daughter; while +we have not done that—we are only bringing up and educating +a poor child in charity.’</p> +<p>‘But I’ll adopt her fully—make her mine +legally!’ cried his wife in an anxious voice. +‘How is it to be done?’</p> +<p>‘H’m.’ He did not inform her, but fell +into thought; and, for reasons of her own, his lady was restless +and uneasy.</p> +<p>The very next day Lady Mottisfont drove to Fernell Hall to pay +the neglected call upon her neighbour. The Countess was at +home, and received her graciously. But poor Lady +Mottisfont’s heart died within her as soon as she set eyes +on her new acquaintance. Such wonderful beauty, of the +fully-developed kind, had never confronted her before inside the +lines of a human face. She seemed to shine with every light +and grace that woman can possess. Her finished Continental +manners, her expanded mind, her ready wit, composed a study that +made the other poor lady sick; for she, and latterly Sir Ashley +himself, were rather rural in manners, and she felt abashed by +new sounds and ideas from without. She hardly knew three +words in any language but her own, while this divine creature, +though truly English, had, apparently, whatever she wanted in the +Italian and French tongues to suit every impression; which was +considered a great improvement to speech in those days, and, +indeed, is by many considered as such in these.</p> +<p>‘How very strange it was about the little girl!’ +the Contessa said to Lady Mottisfont, in her gay tones. +‘I mean, that the child the lawyer recommended should, just +before then, have been adopted by you, who are now my +neighbour. How is she getting on? I must come and see +her.’</p> +<p>‘Do you still want her?’ asks Lady Mottisfont +suspiciously.</p> +<p>‘Oh, I should like to have her!’</p> +<p>‘But you can’t! She’s mine!’ +said the other greedily.</p> +<p>A drooping manner appeared in the Countess from that +moment.</p> +<p>Lady Mottisfont, too, was in a wretched mood all the way home +that day. The Countess was so charming in every way that +she had charmed her gentle ladyship; how should it be possible +that she had failed to charm Sir Ashley? Moreover, she had +awakened a strange thought in Philippa’s mind. As +soon as she reached home she rushed to the nursery, and there, +seizing Dorothy, frantically kissed her; then, holding her at +arm’s length, she gazed with a piercing inquisitiveness +into the girl’s lineaments. She sighed deeply, +abandoned the wondering Dorothy, and hastened away.</p> +<p>She had seen there not only her husband’s traits, which +she had often beheld before, but others, of the shade, shape, and +expression which characterized those of her new neighbour.</p> +<p>Then this poor lady perceived the whole perturbing sequence of +things, and asked herself how she could have been such a walking +piece of simplicity as not to have thought of this before. +But she did not stay long upbraiding herself for her +shortsightedness, so overwhelmed was she with misery at the +spectacle of herself as an intruder between these. To be +sure she could not have foreseen such a conjuncture; but that did +not lessen her grief. The woman who had been both her +husband’s bliss and his backsliding had reappeared free +when he was no longer so, and she evidently was dying to claim +her own in the person of Dorothy, who had meanwhile grown to be, +to Lady Mottisfont, almost the only source of each day’s +happiness, supplying her with something to watch over, inspiring +her with the sense of maternity, and so largely reflecting her +husband’s nature as almost to deceive her into the pleasant +belief that she reflected her own also.</p> +<p>If there was a single direction in which this devoted and +virtuous lady erred, it was in the direction of +over-submissiveness. When all is said and done, and the +truth told, men seldom show much self-sacrifice in their conduct +as lords and masters to helpless women bound to them for life, +and perhaps (though I say it with all uncertainty) if she had +blazed up in his face like a furze-faggot, directly he came home, +she might have helped herself a little. But God knows +whether this is a true supposition; at any rate she did no such +thing; and waited and prayed that she might never do despite to +him who, she was bound to admit, had always been tender and +courteous towards her; and hoped that little Dorothy might never +be taken away.</p> +<p>By degrees the two households became friendly, and very seldom +did a week pass without their seeing something of each +other. Try as she might, and dangerous as she assumed the +acquaintanceship to be, Lady Mottisfont could detect no fault or +flaw in her new friend. It was obvious that Dorothy had +been the magnet which had drawn the Contessa hither, and not Sir +Ashley.</p> +<p>Such beauty, united with such understanding and brightness, +Philippa had never before known in one of her own sex, and she +tried to think (whether she succeeded I do not know) that she did +not mind the propinquity; since a woman so rich, so fair, and +with such a command of suitors, could not desire to wreck the +happiness of so inoffensive a person as herself.</p> +<p>The season drew on when it was the custom for families of +distinction to go off to The Bath, and Sir Ashley Mottisfont +persuaded his wife to accompany him thither with Dorothy. +Everybody of any note was there this year. From their own +part of England came many that they knew; among the rest, Lord +and Lady Purbeck, the Earl and Countess of Wessex, Sir John +Grebe, the Drenkhards, Lady Stourvale, the old Duke of +Hamptonshire, the Bishop of Melchester, the Dean of Exonbury, and +other lesser lights of Court, pulpit, and field. Thither +also came the fair Contessa, whom, as soon as Philippa saw how +much she was sought after by younger men, she could not +conscientiously suspect of renewed designs upon Sir Ashley.</p> +<p>But the Countess had finer opportunities than ever with +Dorothy; for Lady Mottisfont was often indisposed, and even at +other times could not honestly hinder an intercourse which gave +bright ideas to the child. Dorothy welcomed her new +acquaintance with a strange and instinctive readiness that +intimated the wonderful subtlety of the threads which bind flesh +and flesh together.</p> +<p>At last the crisis came: it was precipitated by an +accident. Dorothy and her nurse had gone out one day for an +airing, leaving Lady Mottisfont alone indoors. While she +sat gloomily thinking that in all likelihood the Countess would +contrive to meet the child somewhere, and exchange a few tender +words with her, Sir Ashley Mottisfont rushed in and informed her +that Dorothy had just had the narrowest possible escape from +death. Some workmen were undermining a house to pull it +down for rebuilding, when, without warning, the front wall +inclined slowly outwards for its fall, the nurse and child +passing beneath it at the same moment. The fall was +temporarily arrested by the scaffolding, while in the meantime +the Countess had witnessed their imminent danger from the other +side of the street. Springing across, she snatched Dorothy +from under the wall, and pulled the nurse after her, the middle +of the way being barely reached before they were enveloped in the +dense dust of the descending mass, though not a stone touched +them.</p> +<p>‘Where is Dorothy?’ says the excited Lady +Mottisfont.</p> +<p>‘She has her—she won’t let her go for a +time—’</p> +<p>‘Has her? But she’s +<i>mine</i>—she’s mine!’ cries Lady +Mottisfont.</p> +<p>Then her quick and tender eyes perceived that her husband had +almost forgotten her intrusive existence in contemplating the +oneness of Dorothy’s, the Countess’s, and his own: he +was in a dream of exaltation which recognized nothing necessary +to his well-being outside that welded circle of three lives.</p> +<p>Dorothy was at length brought home; she was much fascinated by +the Countess, and saw nothing tragic, but rather all that was +truly delightful, in what had happened. In the evening, +when the excitement was over, and Dorothy was put to bed, Sir +Ashley said, ‘She has saved Dorothy; and I have been asking +myself what I can do for her as a slight acknowledgment of her +heroism. Surely we ought to let her have Dorothy to bring +up, since she still desires to do it? It would be so much +to Dorothy’s advantage. We ought to look at it in +that light, and not selfishly.’</p> +<p>Philippa seized his hand. ‘Ashley, Ashley! +You don’t mean it—that I must lose my pretty +darling—the only one I have?’ She met his gaze +with her piteous mouth and wet eyes so painfully strained, that +he turned away his face.</p> +<p>The next morning, before Dorothy was awake, Lady Mottisfont +stole to the girl’s bedside, and sat regarding her. +When Dorothy opened her eyes, she fixed them for a long time upon +Philippa’s features.</p> +<p>‘Mamma—you are not so pretty as the Contessa, are +you?’ she said at length.</p> +<p>‘I am not, Dorothy.’</p> +<p>‘Why are you not, mamma?’</p> +<p>‘Dorothy—where would you rather live, always; with +me, or with her?’</p> +<p>The little girl looked troubled. ‘I am sorry, +mamma; I don’t mean to be unkind; but I would rather live +with her; I mean, if I might without trouble, and you did not +mind, and it could be just the same to us all, you +know.’</p> +<p>‘Has she ever asked you the same question?’</p> +<p>‘Never, mamma.’</p> +<p>There lay the sting of it: the Countess seemed the soul of +honour and fairness in this matter, test her as she might. +That afternoon Lady Mottisfont went to her husband with singular +firmness upon her gentle face.</p> +<p>‘Ashley, we have been married nearly five years, and I +have never challenged you with what I know perfectly +well—the parentage of Dorothy.’</p> +<p>‘Never have you, Philippa dear. Though I have seen +that you knew from the first.’</p> +<p>‘From the first as to her father, not as to her +mother. Her I did not know for some time; but I know +now.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! you have discovered that too?’ says he, +without much surprise.</p> +<p>‘Could I help it? Very well, that being so, I have +thought it over; and I have spoken to Dorothy. I agree to +her going. I can do no less than grant to the Countess her +wish, after her kindness to +my—your—her—child.’</p> +<p>Then this self-sacrificing woman went hastily away that he +might not see that her heart was bursting; and thereupon, before +they left the city, Dorothy changed her mother and her +home. After this, the Countess went away to London for a +while, taking Dorothy with her; and the baronet and his wife +returned to their lonely place at Deansleigh Park without +her.</p> +<p>To renounce Dorothy in the bustle of Bath was a different +thing from living without her in this quiet home. One +evening Sir Ashley missed his wife from the supper-table; her +manner had been so pensive and woeful of late that he immediately +became alarmed. He said nothing, but looked about outside +the house narrowly, and discerned her form in the park, where +recently she had been accustomed to walk alone. In its +lower levels there was a pool fed by a trickling brook, and he +reached this spot in time to hear a splash. Running +forward, he dimly perceived her light gown floating in the +water. To pull her out was the work of a few instants, and +bearing her indoors to her room, he undressed her, nobody in the +house knowing of the incident but himself. She had not been +immersed long enough to lose her senses, and soon +recovered. She owned that she had done it because the +Contessa had taken away her child, as she persisted in calling +Dorothy. Her husband spoke sternly to her, and impressed +upon her the weakness of giving way thus, when all that had +happened was for the best. She took his reproof meekly, and +admitted her fault.</p> +<p>After that she became more resigned, but he often caught her +in tears over some doll, shoe, or ribbon of Dorothy’s, and +decided to take her to the North of England for change of air and +scene. This was not without its beneficial effect, +corporeally no less than mentally, as later events showed, but +she still evinced a preternatural sharpness of ear at the most +casual mention of the child. When they reached home, the +Countess and Dorothy were still absent from the neighbouring +Fernell Hall, but in a month or two they returned, and a little +later Sir Ashley Mottisfont came into his wife’s room full +of news.</p> +<p>‘Well—would you think it, Philippa! After +being so desperate, too, about getting Dorothy to be with +her!’</p> +<p>‘Ah—what?’</p> +<p>‘Our neighbour, the Countess, is going to be married +again! It is to somebody she has met in London.’</p> +<p>Lady Mottisfont was much surprised; she had never dreamt of +such an event. The conflict for the possession of +Dorothy’s person had obscured the possibility of it; yet +what more likely, the Countess being still under thirty, and so +good-looking?</p> +<p>‘What is of still more interest to us, or to you,’ +continued her husband, ‘is a kind offer she has made. +She is willing that you should have Dorothy back again. +Seeing what a grief the loss of her has been to you, she will try +to do without her.’</p> +<p>‘It is not for that; it is not to oblige me,’ said +Lady Mottisfont quickly. ‘One can see well enough +what it is for!’</p> +<p>‘Well, never mind; beggars mustn’t be +choosers. The reason or motive is nothing to us, so that +you obtain your desire.’</p> +<p>‘I am not a beggar any longer,’ said Lady +Mottisfont, with proud mystery.</p> +<p>‘What do you mean by that?’</p> +<p>Lady Mottisfont hesitated. However, it was only too +plain that she did not now jump at a restitution of one for whom +some months before she had been breaking her heart.</p> +<p>The explanation of this change of mood became apparent some +little time farther on. Lady Mottisfont, after five years +of wedded life, was expecting to become a mother, and the aspect +of many things was greatly altered in her view. Among the +more important changes was that of no longer feeling Dorothy to +be absolutely indispensable to her existence.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, in view of her coming marriage, the Countess +decided to abandon the remainder of her term at Fernell Hall, and +return to her pretty little house in town. But she could +not do this quite so quickly as she had expected, and half a year +or more elapsed before she finally quitted the neighbourhood, the +interval being passed in alternations between the country and +London. Prior to her last departure she had an interview +with Sir Ashley Mottisfont, and it occurred three days after his +wife had presented him with a son and heir.</p> +<p>‘I wanted to speak to you,’ said the Countess, +looking him luminously in the face, ‘about the dear +foundling I have adopted temporarily, and thought to have adopted +permanently. But my marriage makes it too risky!’</p> +<p>‘I thought it might be that,’ he answered, +regarding her steadfastly back again, and observing two tears +come slowly into her eyes as she heard her own voice describe +Dorothy in those words.</p> +<p>‘Don’t criticize me,’ she said hastily; and +recovering herself, went on. ‘If Lady Mottisfont +could take her back again, as I suggested, it would be better for +me, and certainly no worse for Dorothy. To every one but +ourselves she is but a child I have taken a fancy to, and Lady +Mottisfont coveted her so much, and was very reluctant to let her +go . . . I am sure she will adopt her again?’ she added +anxiously.</p> +<p>‘I will sound her afresh,’ said the baronet. +‘You leave Dorothy behind for the present?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; although I go away, I do not give up the house for +another month.’</p> +<p>He did not speak to his wife about the proposal till some few +days after, when Lady Mottisfont had nearly recovered, and news +of the Countess’s marriage in London had just reached +them. He had no sooner mentioned Dorothy’s name than +Lady Mottisfont showed symptoms of disquietude.</p> +<p>‘I have not acquired any dislike of Dorothy,’ she +said, ‘but I feel that there is one nearer to me now. +Dorothy chose the alternative of going to the Countess, you must +remember, when I put it to her as between the Countess and +myself.’</p> +<p>‘But, my dear Philippa, how can you argue thus about a +child, and that child our Dorothy?’</p> +<p>‘Not <i>ours</i>,’ said his wife, pointing to the +cot. ‘Ours is here.’</p> +<p>‘What, then, Philippa,’ he said, surprised, +‘you won’t have her back, after nearly dying of grief +at the loss of her?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot argue, dear Ashley. I should prefer not +to have the responsibility of Dorothy again. Her place is +filled now.’</p> +<p>Her husband sighed, and went out of the chamber. There +had been a previous arrangement that Dorothy should be brought to +the house on a visit that day, but instead of taking her up to +his wife, he did not inform Lady Mottisfont of the child’s +presence. He entertained her himself as well as he could, +and accompanied her into the park, where they had a ramble +together. Presently he sat down on the root of an elm and +took her upon his knee.</p> +<p>‘Between this husband and this baby, little Dorothy, you +who had two homes are left out in the cold,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Can’t I go to London with my pretty mamma?’ +said Dorothy, perceiving from his manner that there was a hitch +somewhere.</p> +<p>‘I am afraid not, my child. She only took you to +live with her because she was lonely, you know.’</p> +<p>‘Then can’t I stay at Deansleigh Park with my +other mamma and you?’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid that cannot be done either,’ said he +sadly. ‘We have a baby in the house now.’ +He closed the reply by stooping down and kissing her, there being +a tear in his eye.</p> +<p>‘Then nobody wants me!’ said Dorothy +pathetically.</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, somebody wants you,’ he assured +her. ‘Where would you like to live +besides?’</p> +<p>Dorothy’s experiences being rather limited, she +mentioned the only other place in the world that she was +acquainted with, the cottage of the villager who had taken care +of her before Lady Mottisfont had removed her to the Manor +House.</p> +<p>‘Yes; that’s where you’ll be best off and +most independent,’ he answered. ‘And I’ll +come to see you, my dear girl, and bring you pretty things; and +perhaps you’ll be just as happy there.’</p> +<p>Nevertheless, when the change came, and Dorothy was handed +over to the kind cottage-woman, the poor child missed the +luxurious roominess of Fernell Hall and Deansleigh; and for a +long time her little feet, which had been accustomed to carpets +and oak floors, suffered from the cold of the stone flags on +which it was now her lot to live and to play; while chilblains +came upon her fingers with washing at the pump. But thicker +shoes with nails in them somewhat remedied the cold feet, and her +complaints and tears on this and other scores diminished to +silence as she became inured anew to the hardships of the +farm-cottage, and she grew up robust if not handsome. She +was never altogether lost sight of by Sir Ashley, though she was +deprived of the systematic education which had been devised and +begun for her by Lady Mottisfont, as well as by her other mamma, +the enthusiastic Countess. The latter soon had other +Dorothys to think of, who occupied her time and affection as +fully as Lady Mottisfont’s were occupied by her precious +boy. In the course of time the doubly-desired and +doubly-rejected Dorothy married, I believe, a respectable +road-contractor—the same, if I mistake not, who repaired +and improved the old highway running from Wintoncester +south-westerly through the New Forest—and in the heart of +this worthy man of business the poor girl found the nest which +had been denied her by her own flesh and blood of higher +degree.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Several of the listeners wished to hear another story from the +sentimental member after this, but he said that he could recall +nothing else at the moment, and that it seemed to him as if his +friend on the other side of the fireplace had something to say +from the look of his face.</p> +<p>The member alluded to was a respectable churchwarden, with a +sly chink to one eyelid—possibly the result of an +accident—and a regular attendant at the Club +meetings. He replied that his looks had been mainly caused +by his interest in the two ladies of the last story, apparently +women of strong motherly instincts, even though they were not +genuinely staunch in their tenderness. The tale had brought +to his mind an instance of a firmer affection of that sort on the +paternal side, in a nature otherwise culpable. As for +telling the story, his manner was much against him, he feared; +but he would do his best, if they wished.</p> +<p>Here the President interposed with a suggestion that as it was +getting late in the afternoon it would be as well to adjourn to +their respective inns and lodgings for dinner, after which those +who cared to do so could return and resume these curious domestic +traditions for the remainder of the evening, which might +otherwise prove irksome enough. The curator had told him +that the room was at their service. The churchwarden, who +was beginning to feel hungry himself, readily acquiesced, and the +Club separated for an hour and a half. Then the faithful +ones began to drop in again—among whom were not the +President; neither came the rural dean, nor the two curates, +though the Colonel, and the man of family, cigars in mouth, were +good enough to return, having found their hotel dreary. The +museum had no regular means of illumination, and a solitary +candle, less powerful than the rays of the fire, was placed on +the table; also bottles and glasses, provided by some thoughtful +member. The chink-eyed churchwarden, now thoroughly primed, +proceeded to relate in his own terms what was in substance as +follows, while many of his listeners smoked.</p> +<h2>DAME THE FIFTH—THE LADY ICENWAY<br /> +By the Churchwarden</h2> +<p>In the reign of His Most Excellent Majesty King George the +Third, Defender of the Faith and of the American Colonies, there +lived in ‘a faire maner-place’ (so Leland called it +in his day, as I have been told), in one o’ the greenest +bits of woodland between Bristol and the city of Exonbury, a +young lady who resembled some aforesaid ones in having many +talents and exceeding great beauty. With these gifts she +combined a somewhat imperious temper and arbitrary mind, though +her experience of the world was not actually so large as her +conclusive manner would have led the stranger to suppose. +Being an orphan, she resided with her uncle, who, though he was +fairly considerate as to her welfare, left her pretty much to +herself.</p> +<p>Now it chanced that when this lovely young lady was about +nineteen, she (being a fearless horsewoman) was riding, with only +a young lad as an attendant, in one o’ the woods near her +uncle’s house, and, in trotting along, her horse stumbled +over the root of a felled tree. She slipped to the ground, +not seriously hurt, and was assisted home by a gentleman who came +in view at the moment of her mishap. It turned out that +this gentleman, a total stranger to her, was on a visit at the +house of a neighbouring landowner. He was of Dutch +extraction, and occasionally came to England on business or +pleasure from his plantations in Guiana, on the north coast of +South America, where he usually resided.</p> +<p>On this account he was naturally but little known in Wessex, +and was but a slight acquaintance of the gentleman at whose +mansion he was a guest. However, the friendship between him +and the Heymeres—as the uncle and niece were +named—warmed and warmed by degrees, there being but few +folk o’ note in the vicinity at that time, which made a +newcomer, if he were at all sociable and of good credit, always +sure of a welcome. A tender feeling (as it is called by the +romantic) sprang up between the two young people, which ripened +into intimacy. Anderling, the foreign gentleman, was of an +amorous temperament; and, though he endeavoured to conceal his +feeling, it could be seen that Miss Maria Heymere had impressed +him rather more deeply than would be represented by a scratch +upon a stone. He seemed absolutely unable to free himself +from her fascination; and his inability to do so, much as he +tried—evidently thinking he had not the ghost of a chance +with her—gave her the pleasure of power; though she more +than sympathized when she overheard him heaving his deep drawn +sighs—privately to himself, as he supposed.</p> +<p>After prolonging his visit by every conceivable excuse in his +power, he summoned courage, and offered her his hand and his +heart. Being in no way disinclined to him, though not so +fervid as he, and her uncle making no objection to the match, she +consented to share his fate, for better or otherwise, in the +distant colony where, as he assured her, his rice, and coffee, +and maize, and timber, produced him ample means—a statement +which was borne out by his friend, her uncle’s +neighbour. In short, a day for their marriage was fixed, +earlier in the engagement than is usual or desirable between +comparative strangers, by reason of the necessity he was under of +returning to look after his properties.</p> +<p>The wedding took place, and Maria left her uncle’s +mansion with her husband, going in the first place to London, and +about a fortnight after sailing with him across the great ocean +for their distant home—which, however, he assured her, +should not be her home for long, it being his intention to +dispose of his interests in this part of the world as soon as the +war was over, and he could do so advantageously; when they could +come to Europe, and reside in some favourite capital.</p> +<p>As they advanced on the voyage she observed that he grew more +and more constrained; and, by the time they had crossed the Line, +he was quite depressed, just as he had been before proposing to +her. A day or two before landing at Paramaribo, he embraced +her in a very tearful and passionate manner, and said he wished +to make a confession. It had been his misfortune, he said, +to marry at Quebec in early life a woman whose reputation proved +to be in every way bad and scandalous. The discovery had +nearly killed him; but he had ultimately separated from her, and +had never seen her since. He had hoped and prayed she might +be dead; but recently in London, when they were starting on this +journey, he had discovered that she was still alive. At +first he had decided to keep this dark intelligence from her +beloved ears; but he had felt that he could not do it. All +he hoped was that such a condition of things would make no +difference in her feelings for him, as it need make no difference +in the course of their lives.</p> +<p>Thereupon the spirit of this proud and masterful lady showed +itself in violent turmoil, like the raging of a nor’-west +thunderstorm—as well it might, God knows. But she was +of too stout a nature to be broken down by his revelation, as +many ladies of my acquaintance would have been—so far from +home, and right under the Line in the blaze o’ the +sun. Of the two, indeed, he was the more wretched and +shattered in spirit, for he loved her deeply, and (there being a +foreign twist in his make) had been tempted to this crime by her +exceeding beauty, against which he had struggled day and night, +till he had no further resistance left in him. It was she +who came first to a decision as to what should be +done—whether a wise one I do not attempt to judge.</p> +<p>‘I put it to you,’ says she, when many useless +self-reproaches and protestations on his part had been +uttered—‘I put it to you whether, if any manliness is +left in you, you ought not to do exactly what I consider the best +thing for me in this strait to which you have reduced +me?’</p> +<p>He promised to do anything in the whole world. She then +requested him to allow her to return, and announce him as having +died of malignant ague immediately on their arrival at +Paramaribo; that she should consequently appear in weeds as his +widow in her native place; and that he would never molest her, or +come again to that part of the world during the whole course of +his life—a good reason for which would be that the legal +consequences might be serious.</p> +<p>He readily acquiesced in this, as he would have acquiesced in +anything for the restitution of one he adored so +deeply—even to the yielding of life itself. To put +her in an immediate state of independence he gave her, in bonds +and jewels, a considerable sum (for his worldly means had been in +no way exaggerated); and by the next ship she sailed again for +England, having travelled no farther than to Paramaribo. At +parting he declared it to be his intention to turn all his landed +possessions into personal property, and to be a wanderer on the +face of the earth in remorse for his conduct towards her.</p> +<p>Maria duly arrived in England, and immediately on landing +apprised her uncle of her return, duly appearing at his house in +the garb of a widow. She was commiserated by all the +neighbours as soon as her story was told; but only to her uncle +did she reveal the real state of affairs, and her reason for +concealing it. For, though she had been innocent of wrong, +Maria’s pride was of that grain which could not brook the +least appearance of having been fooled, or deluded, or nonplussed +in her worldly aims.</p> +<p>For some time she led a quiet life with her relative, and in +due course a son was born to her. She was much respected +for her dignity and reserve, and the portable wealth which her +temporary husband had made over to her enabled her to live in +comfort in a wing of the mansion, without assistance from her +uncle at all. But, knowing that she was not what she seemed +to be, her life was an uneasy one, and she often said to herself: +‘Suppose his continued existence should become known here, +and people should discern the pride of my motive in hiding my +humiliation? It would be worse than if I had been frank at +first, which I should have been but for the credit of this +child.’</p> +<p>Such grave reflections as these occupied her with increasing +force; and during their continuance she encountered a worthy man +of noble birth and title—Lord Icenway his name—whose +seat was beyond Wintoncester, quite at t’other end of +Wessex. He being anxious to pay his addresses to her, Maria +willingly accepted them, though he was a plain man, older than +herself; for she discerned in a re-marriage a method of +fortifying her position against mortifying discoveries. In +a few months their union took place, and Maria lifted her head as +Lady Icenway, and left with her husband and child for his home as +aforesaid, where she was quite unknown.</p> +<p>A justification, or a condemnation, of her step (according as +you view it) was seen when, not long after, she received a note +from her former husband Anderling. It was a hasty and +tender epistle, and perhaps it was fortunate that it arrived +during the temporary absence of Lord Icenway. His worthless +wife, said Anderling, had just died in Quebec; he had gone there +to ascertain particulars, and had seen the unfortunate woman +buried. He now was hastening to England to repair the wrong +he had done his Maria. He asked her to meet him at +Southampton, his port of arrival; which she need be in no fear of +doing, as he had changed his name, and was almost absolutely +unknown in Europe. He would remarry her immediately, and +live with her in any part of the Continent, as they had +originally intended, where, for the great love he still bore her, +he would devote himself to her service for the rest of his +days.</p> +<p>Lady Icenway, self-possessed as it was her nature to be, was +yet much disturbed at this news, and set off to meet him, +unattended, as soon as she heard that the ship was in +sight. As soon as they stood face to face she found that +she still possessed all her old influence over him, though his +power to fascinate her had quite departed. In his sorrow +for his offence against her, he had become a man of strict +religious habits, self-denying as a lenten saint, though formerly +he had been a free and joyous liver. Having first got him +to swear to make her any amends she should choose (which he was +imagining must be by a true marriage), she informed him that she +had already wedded another husband, an excellent man of ancient +family and possessions, who had given her a title, in which she +much rejoiced.</p> +<p>At this the countenance of the poor foreign gentleman became +cold as clay, and his heart withered within him; for as it had +been her beauty and bearing which had led him to sin to obtain +her, so, now that her beauty was in fuller bloom, and her manner +more haughty by her success, did he feel her fascination to be +almost more than he could bear. Nevertheless, having sworn +his word, he undertook to obey her commands, which were simply a +renewal of her old request—that he would depart for some +foreign country, and never reveal his existence to her friends, +or husband, or any person in England; never trouble her more, +seeing how great a harm it would do her in the high position +which she at present occupied.</p> +<p>He bowed his head. ‘And the child—our +child?’ he said.</p> +<p>‘He is well,’ says she. ‘Quite +well.’</p> +<p>With this the unhappy gentleman departed, much sadder in his +heart than on his voyage to England; for it had never occurred to +him that a woman who rated her honour so highly as Maria had +done, and who was the mother of a child of his, would have +adopted such means as this for the restoration of that honour, +and at so surprisingly early a date. He had fully +calculated on making her his wife in law and truth, and of living +in cheerful unity with her and his offspring, for whom he felt a +deep and growing tenderness, though he had never once seen the +child.</p> +<p>The lady returned to her mansion beyond Wintoncester, and told +nothing of the interview to her noble husband, who had +fortunately gone that day to do a little cocking and ratting out +by Weydon Priors, and knew nothing of her movements. She +had dismissed her poor Anderling peremptorily enough; yet she +would often after this look in the face of the child of her +so-called widowhood, to discover what and how many traits of his +father were to be seen in his lineaments. For this she had +ample opportunity during the following autumn and winter months, +her husband being a matter-of-fact nobleman, who spent the +greater part of his time in field-sports and agriculture.</p> +<p>One winter day, when he had started for a meet of the hounds a +long way from the house—it being his custom to hunt three +or four times a week at this season of the year—she had +walked into the sunshine upon the terrace before the windows, +where there fell at her feet some little white object that had +come over a boundary wall hard by. It proved to be a tiny +note wrapped round a stone. Lady Icenway opened it and read +it, and immediately (no doubt, with a stern fixture of her +queenly countenance) walked hastily along the terrace, and +through the door into the shrubbery, whence the note had +come. The man who had first married her stood under the +bushes before her. It was plain from his appearance that +something had gone wrong with him.</p> +<p>‘You notice a change in me, my best-beloved,’ he +said. ‘Yes, Maria—I have lost all the wealth I +once possessed—mainly by reckless gambling in the +Continental hells to which you banished me. But one thing +in the world remains to me—the child—and it is for +him that I have intruded here. Don’t fear me, +darling! I shall not inconvenience you long; I love you too +well! But I think of the boy day and night—I cannot +help it—I cannot keep my feeling for him down; and I long +to see him, and speak a word to him once in my +lifetime!’</p> +<p>‘But your oath?’ says she. ‘You +promised never to reveal by word or sign—’</p> +<p>‘I will reveal nothing. Only let me see the +child. I know what I have sworn to you, cruel mistress, and +I respect my oath. Otherwise I might have seen him by some +subterfuge. But I preferred the frank course of asking your +permission.’</p> +<p>She demurred, with the haughty severity which had grown part +of her character, and which her elevation to the rank of a +peeress had rather intensified than diminished. She said +that she would consider, and would give him an answer the day +after the next, at the same hour and place, when her husband +would again be absent with his pack of hounds.</p> +<p>The gentleman waited patiently. Lady Icenway, who had +now no conscious love left for him, well considered the matter, +and felt that it would be advisable not to push to extremes a man +of so passionate a heart. On the day and hour she met him +as she had promised to do.</p> +<p>‘You shall see him,’ she said, ‘of course on +the strict condition that you do not reveal yourself, and hence, +though you see him, he must not see you, or your manner might +betray you and me. I will lull him into a nap in the +afternoon, and then I will come to you here, and fetch you +indoors by a private way.’</p> +<p>The unfortunate father, whose misdemeanour had recoiled upon +his own head in a way he could not have foreseen, promised to +adhere to her instructions, and waited in the shrubberies till +the moment when she should call him. This she duly did +about three o’clock that day, leading him in by a garden +door, and upstairs to the nursery where the child lay. He +was in his little cot, breathing calmly, his arm thrown over his +head, and his silken curls crushed into the pillow. His +father, now almost to be pitied, bent over him, and a tear from +his eye wetted the coverlet.</p> +<p>She held up a warning finger as he lowered his mouth to the +lips of the boy.</p> +<p>‘But oh, why not?’ implored he.</p> +<p>‘Very well, then,’ said she, relenting. +‘But as gently as possible.’</p> +<p>He kissed the child without waking him, turned, gave him a +last look, and followed her out of the chamber, when she +conducted him off the premises by the way he had come.</p> +<p>But this remedy for his sadness of heart at being a stranger +to his own son, had the effect of intensifying the malady; for +while originally, not knowing or having ever seen the boy, he had +loved him vaguely and imaginatively only, he now became attached +to him in flesh and bone, as any parent might; and the feeling +that he could at best only see his child at the rarest and most +cursory moments, if at all, drove him into a state of distraction +which threatened to overthrow his promise to the boy’s +mother to keep out of his sight.</p> +<p>But such was his chivalrous respect for Lady Icenway, and his +regret at having ever deceived her, that he schooled his poor +heart into submission. Owing to his loneliness, all the +fervour of which he was capable—and that was +much—flowed now in the channel of parental and marital +love—for a child who did not know him, and a woman who had +ceased to love him.</p> +<p>At length this singular punishment became such a torture to +the poor foreigner that he resolved to lessen it at all hazards, +compatible with punctilious care for the name of the lady his +former wife, to whom his attachment seemed to increase in +proportion to her punitive treatment of him. At one time of +his life he had taken great interest in tulip-culture, as well as +gardening in general; and since the ruin of his fortunes, and his +arrival in England, he had made of his knowledge a precarious +income in the hot-houses of nurserymen and others. With the +new idea in his head he applied himself zealously to the +business, till he acquired in a few months great skill in +horticulture. Waiting till the noble lord, his lady’s +husband, had room for an under-gardener of a general sort, he +offered himself for the place, and was engaged immediately by +reason of his civility and intelligence, before Lady Icenway knew +anything of the matter. Much therefore did he surprise her +when she found him in the conservatories of her mansion a week or +two after his arrival. The punishment of instant dismissal, +with which at first she haughtily threatened him, my lady thought +fit, on reflection, not to enforce. While he served her +thus she knew he would not harm her by a word, while, if he were +expelled, chagrin might induce him to reveal in a moment of +exasperation what kind treatment would assist him to conceal.</p> +<p>So he was allowed to remain on the premises, and had for his +residence a little cottage by the garden-wall which had been the +domicile of some of his predecessors in the same +occupation. Here he lived absolutely alone, and spent much +of his leisure in reading, but the greater part in watching the +windows and lawns of his lady’s house for glimpses of the +form of the child. It was for that child’s sake that +he abandoned the tenets of the Roman Catholic Church in which he +had been reared, and became the most regular attendant at the +services in the parish place of worship hard by, where, sitting +behind the pew of my lady, my lord, and his stepson, the gardener +could pensively study the traits and movements of the youngster +at only a few feet distance, without suspicion or hindrance.</p> +<p>He filled his post for more than two years with a pleasure to +himself which, though mournful, was soothing, his lady never +forgiving him, or allowing him to be anything more than +‘the gardener’ to her child, though once or twice the +boy said, ‘That gardener’s eyes are so sad! Why +does he look so sadly at me?’ He sunned himself in +her scornfulness as if it were love, and his ears drank in her +curt monosyllables as though they were rhapsodies of +endearment. Strangely enough, the coldness with which she +treated her foreigner began to be the conduct of Lord Icenway +towards herself. It was a matter of great anxiety to him +that there should be a lineal successor to the title, yet no sign +of that successor appeared. One day he complained to her +quite roughly of his fate. ‘All will go to that dolt +of a cousin!’ he cried. ‘I’d sooner see +my name and place at the bottom of the sea!’</p> +<p>The lady soothed him and fell into thought, and did not +recriminate. But one day, soon after, she went down to the +cottage of the gardener to inquire how he was getting on, for he +had been ailing of late, though, as was supposed, not +seriously. Though she often visited the poor, she had never +entered her under-gardener’s home before, and was much +surprised—even grieved and dismayed—to find that he +was too ill to rise from his bed. She went back to her +mansion and returned with some delicate soup, that she might have +a reason for seeing him.</p> +<p>His condition was so feeble and alarming, and his face so +thin, that it quite shocked her softening heart, and gazing upon +him she said, ‘You must get well—you must! I +have been hard with you—I know it. I will not be so +again.’</p> +<p>The sick and dying man—for he was dying +indeed—took her hand and pressed it to his lips. +‘Too late, my darling, too late!’ he murmured.</p> +<p>‘But you <i>must not</i> die! Oh, you must +not!’ she said. And on an impulse she bent down and +whispered some words to him, blushing as she had blushed in her +maiden days.</p> +<p>He replied by a faint wan smile. ‘Time was! . . . +but that’s past!’ he said, ‘I must +die!’</p> +<p>And die he did, a few days later, as the sun was going down +behind the garden-wall. Her harshness seemed to come trebly +home to her then, and she remorsefully exclaimed against herself +in secret and alone. Her one desire now was to erect some +tribute to his memory, without its being recognized as her +handiwork. In the completion of this scheme there arrived a +few months later a handsome stained-glass window for the church; +and when it was unpacked and in course of erection Lord Icenway +strolled into the building with his wife.</p> +<p>‘“<i>Erected to his memory by his grieving +widow</i>,”’ he said, reading the legend on the +glass. ‘I didn’t know that he had a wife; +I’ve never seen her.’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, you must have, Icenway; only you forget,’ +replied his lady blandly. ‘But she didn’t live +with him, and was seldom seen visiting him, because there were +differences between them; which, as is usually the case, makes +her all the more sorry now.’</p> +<p>‘And go ruining herself by this expensive ruby-and-azure +glass-design.’</p> +<p>‘She is not poor, they say.’</p> +<p>As Lord Icenway grew older he became crustier and crustier, +and whenever he set eyes on his wife’s boy by her other +husband he would burst out morosely, saying,</p> +<p>‘’Tis a very odd thing, my lady, that you could +oblige your first husband, and couldn’t oblige +me.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! if I had only thought of it sooner!’ she +murmured.</p> +<p>‘What?’ said he.</p> +<p>‘Nothing, dearest,’ replied Lady Icenway.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The Colonel was the first to comment upon the +Churchwarden’s tale, by saying that the fate of the poor +fellow was rather a hard one.</p> +<p>The gentleman-tradesman could not see that his fate was at all +too hard for him. He was legally nothing to her, and he had +served her shamefully. If he had been really her husband it +would have stood differently.</p> +<p>The Bookworm remarked that Lord Icenway seemed to have been a +very unsuspicious man, with which view a fat member with a +crimson face agreed. It was true his wife was a very +close-mouthed personage, which made a difference. If she +had spoken out recklessly her lord might have been suspicious +enough, as in the case of that lady who lived at Stapleford Park +in their great-grandfathers’ time. Though there, to +be sure, considerations arose which made her husband view matters +with much philosophy.</p> +<p>A few of the members doubted the possibility of this.</p> +<p>The crimson man, who was a retired maltster of comfortable +means, <i>ventru</i>, and short in stature, cleared his throat, +blew off his superfluous breath, and proceeded to give the +instance before alluded to of such possibility, first apologizing +for his heroine’s lack of a title, it never having been his +good fortune to know many of the nobility. To his style of +narrative the following is only an approximation.</p> +<h2>DAME THE SIXTH—SQUIRE PETRICK’S LADY<br /> +By the Crimson Maltster</h2> +<p>Folk who are at all acquainted with the traditions of +Stapleford Park will not need to be told that in the middle of +the last century it was owned by that trump of mortgagees, +Timothy Petrick, whose skill in gaining possession of fair +estates by granting sums of money on their title-deeds has seldom +if ever been equalled in our part of England. Timothy was a +lawyer by profession, and agent to several noblemen, by which +means his special line of business became opened to him by a sort +of revelation. It is said that a relative of his, a very +deep thinker, who afterwards had the misfortune to be transported +for life for mistaken notions on the signing of a will, taught +him considerable legal lore, which he creditably resolved never +to throw away for the benefit of other people, but to reserve it +entirely for his own.</p> +<p>However, I have nothing in particular to say about his early +and active days, but rather of the time when, an old man, he had +become the owner of vast estates by the means I have +signified—among them the great manor of Stapleford, on +which he lived, in the splendid old mansion now pulled down; +likewise estates at Marlott, estates near Sherton Abbas, nearly +all the borough of Millpool, and many properties near +Ivell. Indeed, I can’t call to mind half his landed +possessions, and I don’t know that it matters much at this +time of day, seeing that he’s been dead and gone many +years. It is said that when he bought an estate he would +not decide to pay the price till he had walked over every single +acre with his own two feet, and prodded the soil at every point +with his own spud, to test its quality, which, if we regard the +extent of his properties, must have been a stiff business for +him.</p> +<p>At the time I am speaking of he was a man over eighty, and his +son was dead; but he had two grandsons, the eldest of whom, his +namesake, was married, and was shortly expecting issue. +Just then the grandfather was taken ill, for death, as it seemed, +considering his age. By his will the old man had created an +entail (as I believe the lawyers call it), devising the whole of +the estates to his elder grandson and his issue male, failing +which, to his younger grandson and his issue male, failing which, +to remoter relatives, who need not be mentioned now.</p> +<p>While old Timothy Petrick was lying ill, his elder +grandson’s wife, Annetta, gave birth to her expected child, +who, as fortune would have it, was a son. Timothy, her +husband, through sprung of a scheming family, was no great +schemer himself; he was the single one of the Petricks then +living whose heart had ever been greatly moved by sentiments +which did not run in the groove of ambition; and on this account +he had not married well, as the saying is; his wife having been +the daughter of a family of no better beginnings than his own; +that is to say, her father was a country townsman of the +professional class. But she was a very pretty woman, by all +accounts, and her husband had seen, courted, and married her in a +high tide of infatuation, after a very short acquaintance, and +with very little knowledge of her heart’s history. He +had never found reason to regret his choice as yet, and his +anxiety for her recovery was great.</p> +<p>She was supposed to be out of danger, and herself and the +child progressing well, when there was a change for the worse, +and she sank so rapidly that she was soon given over. When +she felt that she was about to leave him, Annetta sent for her +husband, and, on his speedy entry and assurance that they were +alone, she made him solemnly vow to give the child every care in +any circumstances that might arise, if it should please Heaven to +take her. This, of course, he readily promised. Then, +after some hesitation, she told him that she could not die with a +falsehood upon her soul, and dire deceit in her life; she must +make a terrible confession to him before her lips were sealed for +ever. She thereupon related an incident concerning the +baby’s parentage, which was not as he supposed.</p> +<p>Timothy Petrick, though a quick-feeling man, was not of a sort +to show nerves outwardly; and he bore himself as heroically as he +possibly could do in this trying moment of his life. That +same night his wife died; and while she lay dead, and before her +funeral, he hastened to the bedside of his sick grandfather, and +revealed to him all that had happened: the baby’s birth, +his wife’s confession, and her death, beseeching the aged +man, as he loved him, to bestir himself now, at the eleventh +hour, and alter his will so as to dish the intruder. Old +Timothy, seeing matters in the same light as his grandson, +required no urging against allowing anything to stand in the way +of legitimate inheritance; he executed another will, limiting the +entail to Timothy his grandson, for life, and his male heirs +thereafter to be born; after them to his other grandson Edward, +and Edward’s heirs. Thus the newly-born infant, who +had been the centre of so many hopes, was cut off and scorned as +none of the elect.</p> +<p>The old mortgagee lived but a short time after this, the +excitement of the discovery having told upon him considerably, +and he was gathered to his fathers like the most charitable man +in his neighbourhood. Both wife and grandparent being +buried, Timothy settled down to his usual life as well as he was +able, mentally satisfied that he had by prompt action defeated +the consequences of such dire domestic treachery as had been +shown towards him, and resolving to marry a second time as soon +as he could satisfy himself in the choice of a wife.</p> +<p>But men do not always know themselves. The embittered +state of Timothy Petrick’s mind bred in him by degrees such +a hatred and mistrust of womankind that, though several specimens +of high attractiveness came under his eyes, he could not bring +himself to the point of proposing marriage. He dreaded to +take up the position of husband a second time, discerning a trap +in every petticoat, and a Slough of Despond in possible +heirs. ‘What has happened once, when all seemed so +fair, may happen again,’ he said to himself. +‘I’ll risk my name no more.’ So he +abstained from marriage, and overcame his wish for a lineal +descendant to follow him in the ownership of Stapleford.</p> +<p>Timothy had scarcely noticed the unfortunate child that his +wife had borne, after arranging for a meagre fulfilment of his +promise to her to take care of the boy, by having him brought up +in his house. Occasionally, remembering this promise, he +went and glanced at the child, saw that he was doing well, gave a +few special directions, and again went his solitary way. +Thus he and the child lived on in the Stapleford mansion-house +till two or three years had passed by. One day he was +walking in the garden, and by some accident left his snuff-box on +a bench. When he came back to find it he saw the little boy +standing there; he had escaped his nurse, and was making a +plaything of the box, in spite of the convulsive sneezings which +the game brought in its train. Then the man with the +encrusted heart became interested in the little fellow’s +persistence in his play under such discomforts; he looked in the +child’s face, saw there his wife’s countenance, +though he did not see his own, and fell into thought on the +piteousness of childhood—particularly of despised and +rejected childhood, like this before him.</p> +<p>From that hour, try as he would to counteract the feeling, the +human necessity to love something or other got the better of what +he had called his wisdom, and shaped itself in a tender anxiety +for the youngster Rupert. This name had been given him by +his dying mother when, at her request, the child was baptized in +her chamber, lest he should not survive for public baptism; and +her husband had never thought of it as a name of any significance +till, about this time, he learnt by accident that it was the name +of the young Marquis of Christminster, son of the Duke of +Southwesterland, for whom Annetta had cherished warm feelings +before her marriage. Recollecting some wandering phrases in +his wife’s last words, which he had not understood at the +time, he perceived at last that this was the person to whom she +had alluded when affording him a clue to little Rupert’s +history.</p> +<p>He would sit in silence for hours with the child, being no +great speaker at the best of times; but the boy, on his part, was +too ready with his tongue for any break in discourse to arise +because Timothy Petrick had nothing to say. After idling +away his mornings in this manner, Petrick would go to his own +room and swear in long loud whispers, and walk up and down, +calling himself the most ridiculous dolt that ever lived, and +declaring that he would never go near the little fellow again; to +which resolve he would adhere for the space perhaps of a +day. Such cases are happily not new to human nature, but +there never was a case in which a man more completely befocled +his former self than in this.</p> +<p>As the child grew up, Timothy’s attachment to him grew +deeper, till Rupert became almost the sole object for which he +lived. There had been enough of the family ambition latent +in him for Timothy Petrick to feel a little envy when, some time +before this date, his brother Edward had been accepted by the +Honourable Harriet Mountclere, daughter of the second Viscount of +that name and title; but having discovered, as I have before +stated, the paternity of his boy Rupert to lurk in even a higher +stratum of society, those envious feelings speedily +dispersed. Indeed, the more he reflected thereon, after his +brother’s aristocratic marriage, the more content did he +become. His late wife took softer outline in his memory, as +he thought of the lofty taste she had displayed, though only a +plain burgher’s daughter, and the justification for his +weakness in loving the child—the justification that he had +longed for—was afforded now in the knowledge that the boy +was by nature, if not by name, a representative of one of the +noblest houses in England.</p> +<p>‘She was a woman of grand instincts, after all,’ +he said to himself proudly. ‘To fix her choice upon +the immediate successor in that ducal line—it was finely +conceived! Had he been of low blood like myself or my +relations she would scarce have deserved the harsh measure that I +have dealt out to her and her offspring. How much less, +then, when such grovelling tastes were farthest from her +soul! The man Annetta loved was noble, and my boy is noble +in spite of me.’</p> +<p>The afterclap was inevitable, and it soon came. +‘So far,’ he reasoned, ‘from cutting off this +child from inheritance of my estates, as I have done, I should +have rejoiced in the possession of him! He is of pure stock +on one side at least, whilst in the ordinary run of affairs he +would have been a commoner to the bone.’</p> +<p>Being a man, whatever his faults, of good old beliefs in the +divinity of kings and those about ’em, the more he +overhauled the case in this light, the more strongly did his poor +wife’s conduct in improving the blood and breed of the +Petrick family win his heart. He considered what ugly, +idle, hard-drinking scamps many of his own relations had been; +the miserable scriveners, usurers, and pawnbrokers that he had +numbered among his forefathers, and the probability that some of +their bad qualities would have come out in a merely corporeal +child, to give him sorrow in his old age, turn his black hairs +gray, his gray hairs white, cut down every stick of timber, and +Heaven knows what all, had he not, like a skilful gardener, +minded his grafting and changed the sort; till at length this +right-minded man fell down on his knees every night and morning +and thanked God that he was not as other meanly descended fathers +in such matters.</p> +<p>It was in the peculiar disposition of the Petrick family that +the satisfaction which ultimately settled in Timothy’s +breast found nourishment. The Petricks had adored the +nobility, and plucked them at the same time. That excellent +man Izaak Walton’s feelings about fish were much akin to +those of old Timothy Petrick, and of his descendants in a lesser +degree, concerning the landed aristocracy. To torture and +to love simultaneously is a proceeding strange to reason, but +possible to practice, as these instances show.</p> +<p>Hence, when Timothy’s brother Edward said slightingly +one day that Timothy’s son was well enough, but that he had +nothing but shops and offices in his backward perspective, while +his own children, should he have any, would be far different, in +possessing such a mother as the Honourable Harriet, Timothy felt +a bound of triumph within him at the power he possessed of +contradicting that statement if he chose.</p> +<p>So much was he interested in his boy in this new aspect that +he now began to read up chronicles of the illustrious house +ennobled as the Dukes of Southwesterland, from their very +beginning in the glories of the Restoration of the blessed +Charles till the year of his own time. He mentally noted +their gifts from royalty, grants of lands, purchases, +intermarriages, plantings and buildings; more particularly their +political and military achievements, which had been great, and +their performances in art and letters, which had been by no means +contemptible. He studied prints of the portraits of that +family, and then, like a chemist watching a crystallization, +began to examine young Rupert’s face for the unfolding of +those historic curves and shades that the painters Vandyke and +Lely had perpetuated on canvas.</p> +<p>When the boy reached the most fascinating age of childhood, +and his shouts of laughter ran through Stapleford House from end +to end, the remorse that oppressed Timothy Petrick knew no +bounds. Of all people in the world this Rupert was the one +on whom he could have wished the estates to devolve; yet Rupert, +by Timothy’s own desperate strategy at the time of his +birth, had been ousted from all inheritance of them; and, since +he did not mean to remarry, the manors would pass to his brother +and his brother’s children, who would be nothing to him, +whose boasted pedigree on one side would be nothing to his +Rupert’s.</p> +<p>Had he only left the first will of his grandfather alone!</p> +<p>His mind ran on the wills continually, both of which were in +existence, and the first, the cancelled one, in his own +possession. Night after night, when the servants were all +abed, and the click of safety locks sounded as loud as a crash, +he looked at that first will, and wished it had been the second +and not the first.</p> +<p>The crisis came at last. One night, after having enjoyed +the boy’s company for hours, he could no longer bear that +his beloved Rupert should be dispossessed, and he committed the +felonious deed of altering the date of the earlier will to a +fortnight later, which made its execution appear subsequent to +the date of the second will already proved. He then boldly +propounded the first will as the second.</p> +<p>His brother Edward submitted to what appeared to be not only +incontestible fact, but a far more likely disposition of old +Timothy’s property; for, like many others, he had been much +surprised at the limitations defined in the other will, having no +clue to their cause. He joined his brother Timothy in +setting aside the hitherto accepted document, and matters went on +in their usual course, there being no dispositions in the +substituted will differing from those in the other, except such +as related to a future which had not yet arrived.</p> +<p>The years moved on. Rupert had not yet revealed the +anxiously expected historic lineaments which should foreshadow +the political abilities of the ducal family aforesaid when it +happened on a certain day that Timothy Petrick made the +acquaintance of a well-known physician of Budmouth, who had been +the medical adviser and friend of the late Mrs. Petrick’s +family for many years; though after Annetta’s marriage, and +consequent removal to Stapleford, he had seen no more of her, the +neighbouring practitioner who attended the Petricks having then +become her doctor as a matter of course. Timothy was +impressed by the insight and knowledge disclosed in the +conversation of the Budmouth physician, and the acquaintance +ripening to intimacy, the physician alluded to a form of +hallucination to which Annetta’s mother and grandmother had +been subject—that of believing in certain dreams as +realities. He delicately inquired if Timothy had ever +noticed anything of the sort in his wife during her lifetime; he, +the physician, had fancied that he discerned germs of the same +peculiarity in Annetta when he attended her in her +girlhood. One explanation begat another, till the +dumbfoundered Timothy Petrick was persuaded in his own mind that +Annetta’s confession to him had been based on a +delusion.</p> +<p>‘You look down in the mouth?’ said the doctor, +pausing.</p> +<p>‘A bit unmanned. ’Tis +unexpected-like,’ sighed Timothy.</p> +<p>But he could hardly believe it possible; and, thinking it best +to be frank with the doctor, told him the whole story which, till +now, he had never related to living man, save his dying +grandfather. To his surprise, the physician informed him +that such a form of delusion was precisely what he would have +expected from Annetta’s antecedents at such a physical +crisis in her life.</p> +<p>Petrick prosecuted his inquiries elsewhere; and the upshot of +his labours was, briefly, that a comparison of dates and places +showed irrefutably that his poor wife’s assertion could not +possibly have foundation in fact. The young Marquis of her +tender passion—a highly moral and bright-minded +nobleman—had gone abroad the year before Annetta’s +marriage, and had not returned till after her death. The +young girl’s love for him had been a delicate ideal +dream—no more.</p> +<p>Timothy went home, and the boy ran out to meet him; whereupon +a strangely dismal feeling of discontent took possession of his +soul. After all, then, there was nothing but plebeian blood +in the veins of the heir to his name and estates; he was not to +be succeeded by a noble-natured line. To be sure, Rupert +was his son; but that glory and halo he believed him to have +inherited from the ages, outshining that of his brother’s +children, had departed from Rupert’s brow for ever; he +could no longer read history in the boy’s face, and +centuries of domination in his eyes.</p> +<p>His manner towards his son grew colder and colder from that +day forward; and it was with bitterness of heart that he +discerned the characteristic features of the Petricks unfolding +themselves by degrees. Instead of the elegant knife-edged +nose, so typical of the Dukes of Southwesterland, there began to +appear on his face the broad nostril and hollow bridge of his +grandfather Timothy. No illustrious line of politicians was +promised a continuator in that graying blue eye, for it was +acquiring the expression of the orb of a particularly +objectionable cousin of his own; and, instead of the mouth-curves +which had thrilled Parliamentary audiences in speeches now bound +in calf in every well-ordered library, there was the bull-lip of +that very uncle of his who had had the misfortune with the +signature of a gentleman’s will, and had been transported +for life in consequence.</p> +<p>To think how he himself, too, had sinned in this same matter +of a will for this mere fleshly reproduction of a wretched old +uncle whose very name he wished to forget! The boy’s +Christian name, even, was an imposture and an irony, for it +implied hereditary force and brilliancy to which he plainly would +never attain. The consolation of real sonship was always +left him certainly; but he could not help groaning to himself, +‘Why cannot a son be one’s own and somebody +else’s likewise!’</p> +<p>The Marquis was shortly afterwards in the neighbourhood of +Stapleford, and Timothy Petrick met him, and eyed his noble +countenance admiringly. The next day, when Petrick was in +his study, somebody knocked at the door.</p> +<p>‘Who’s there?’</p> +<p>‘Rupert.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll Rupert thee, you young impostor! Say, +only a poor commonplace Petrick!’ his father grunted. +‘Why didn’t you have a voice like the Marquis’s +I saw yesterday?’ he continued, as the lad came in. +‘Why haven’t you his looks, and a way of commanding, +as if you’d done it for centuries—hey?’</p> +<p>‘Why? How can you expect it, father, when +I’m not related to him?’</p> +<p>‘Ugh! Then you ought to be!’ growled his +father.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>As the narrator paused, the surgeon, the Colonel, the +historian, the Spark, and others exclaimed that such subtle and +instructive psychological studies as this (now that psychology +was so much in demand) were precisely the tales they desired, as +members of a scientific club, and begged the master-maltster to +tell another curious mental delusion.</p> +<p>The maltster shook his head, and feared he was not genteel +enough to tell another story with a sufficiently moral tone in it +to suit the club; he would prefer to leave the next to a better +man.</p> +<p>The Colonel had fallen into reflection. True it was, he +observed, that the more dreamy and impulsive nature of woman +engendered within her erratic fancies, which often started her on +strange tracks, only to abandon them in sharp revulsion at the +dictates of her common sense—sometimes with ludicrous +effect. Events which had caused a lady’s action to +set in a particular direction might continue to enforce the same +line of conduct, while she, like a mangle, would start on a +sudden in a contrary course, and end where she began.</p> +<p>The Vice-President laughed, and applauded the Colonel, adding +that there surely lurked a story somewhere behind that sentiment, +if he were not much mistaken.</p> +<p>The Colonel fixed his face to a good narrative pose, and went +on without further preamble.</p> +<h2>DAME THE SEVENTH—ANNA, LADY BAXBY<br /> +By the Colonel</h2> +<p>It was in the time of the great Civil War—if I should +not rather, as a loyal subject, call it, with Clarendon, the +Great Rebellion. It was, I say, at that unhappy period of +our history, that towards the autumn of a particular year, the +Parliament forces sat down before Sherton Castle with over seven +thousand foot and four pieces of cannon. The Castle, as we +all know, was in that century owned and occupied by one of the +Earls of Severn, and garrisoned for his assistance by a certain +noble Marquis who commanded the King’s troops in these +parts. The said Earl, as well as the young Lord Baxby, his +eldest son, were away from home just now, raising forces for the +King elsewhere. But there were present in the Castle, when +the besiegers arrived before it, the son’s fair wife Lady +Baxby, and her servants, together with some friends and near +relatives of her husband; and the defence was so good and +well-considered that they anticipated no great danger.</p> +<p>The Parliamentary forces were also commanded by a noble +lord—for the nobility were by no means, at this stage of +the war, all on the King’s side—and it had been +observed during his approach in the night-time, and in the +morning when the reconnoitring took place, that he appeared sad +and much depressed. The truth was that, by a strange freak +of destiny, it had come to pass that the stronghold he was set to +reduce was the home of his own sister, whom he had tenderly loved +during her maidenhood, and whom he loved now, in spite of the +estrangement which had resulted from hostilities with her +husband’s family. He believed, too, that, +notwithstanding this cruel division, she still was sincerely +attached to him.</p> +<p>His hesitation to point his ordnance at the walls was +inexplicable to those who were strangers to his family +history. He remained in the field on the north side of the +Castle (called by his name to this day because of his encampment +there) till it occurred to him to send a messenger to his sister +Anna with a letter, in which he earnestly requested her, as she +valued her life, to steal out of the place by the little gate to +the south, and make away in that direction to the residence of +some friends.</p> +<p>Shortly after he saw, to his great surprise, coming from the +front of the Castle walls a lady on horseback, with a single +attendant. She rode straight forward into the field, and up +the slope to where his army and tents were spread. It was +not till she got quite near that he discerned her to be his +sister Anna; and much was he alarmed that she should have run +such risk as to sally out in the face of his forces without +knowledge of their proceedings, when at any moment their first +discharge might have burst forth, to her own destruction in such +exposure. She dismounted before she was quite close to him, +and he saw that her familiar face, though pale, was not at all +tearful, as it would have been in their younger days. +Indeed, if the particulars as handed down are to be believed, he +was in a more tearful state than she, in his anxiety about +her. He called her into his tent, out of the gaze of those +around; for though many of the soldiers were honest and +serious-minded men, he could not bear that she who had been his +dear companion in childhood should be exposed to curious +observation in this her great grief.</p> +<p>When they were alone in the tent he clasped her in his arms, +for he had not seen her since those happier days when, at the +commencement of the war, her husband and himself had been of the +same mind about the arbitrary conduct of the King, and had little +dreamt that they would not go to extremes together. She was +the calmest of the two, it is said, and was the first to speak +connectedly.</p> +<p>‘William, I have come to you,’ said she, +‘but not to save myself as you suppose. Why, oh, why +do you persist in supporting this disloyal cause, and grieving us +so?’</p> +<p>‘Say not that,’ he replied hastily. +‘If truth hides at the bottom of a well, why should you +suppose justice to be in high places? I am for the right at +any price. Anna, leave the Castle; you are my sister; come +away, my dear, and save thy life!’</p> +<p>‘Never!’ says she. ‘Do you plan to +carry out this attack, and level the Castle indeed?’</p> +<p>‘Most certainly I do,’ says he. ‘What +meaneth this army around us if not so?’</p> +<p>‘Then you will find the bones of your sister buried in +the ruins you cause!’ said she. And without another +word she turned and left him.</p> +<p>‘Anna—abide with me!’ he entreated. +‘Blood is thicker than water, and what is there in common +between you and your husband now?’</p> +<p>But she shook her head and would not hear him and hastening +out, mounted her horse, and returned towards the Castle as she +had come. Ay, many’s the time when I have been riding +to hounds across that field that I have thought of that +scene!</p> +<p>When she had quite gone down the field, and over the +intervening ground, and round the bastion, so that he could no +longer even see the tip of her mare’s white tail, he was +much more deeply moved by emotions concerning her and her welfare +than he had been while she was before him. He wildly +reproached himself that he had not detained her by force for her +own good, so that, come what might, she would be under his +protection and not under that of her husband, whose impulsive +nature rendered him too open to instantaneous impressions and +sudden changes of plan; he was now acting in this cause and now +in that, and lacked the cool judgment necessary for the +protection of a woman in these troubled times. Her brother +thought of her words again and again, and sighed, and even +considered if a sister were not of more value than a principle, +and if he would not have acted more naturally in throwing in his +lot with hers.</p> +<p>The delay of the besiegers in attacking the Castle was said to +be entirely owing to this distraction on the part of their +leader, who remained on the spot attempting some indecisive +operations, and parleying with the Marquis, then in command, with +far inferior forces, within the Castle. It never occurred +to him that in the meantime the young Lady Baxby, his sister, was +in much the same mood as himself. Her brother’s +familiar voice and eyes, much worn and fatigued by keeping the +field, and by family distractions on account of this unhappy +feud, rose upon her vision all the afternoon, and as day waned +she grew more and more Parliamentarian in her principles, though +the only arguments which had addressed themselves to her were +those of family ties.</p> +<p>Her husband, General Lord Baxby, had been expected to return +all the day from his excursion into the east of the county, a +message having been sent to him informing him of what had +happened at home; and in the evening he arrived with +reinforcements in unexpected numbers. Her brother retreated +before these to a hill near Ivell, four or five miles off, to +afford the men and himself some repose. Lord Baxby duly +placed his forces, and there was no longer any immediate +danger. By this time Lady Baxby’s feelings were more +Parliamentarian than ever, and in her fancy the fagged +countenance of her brother, beaten back by her husband, seemed to +reproach her for heartlessness. When her husband entered +her apartment, ruddy and boisterous, and full of hope, she +received him but sadly; and upon his casually uttering some +slighting words about her brother’s withdrawal, which +seemed to convey an imputation upon his courage, she resented +them, and retorted that he, Lord Baxby himself, had been against +the Court-party at first, where it would be much more to his +credit if he were at present, and showing her brother’s +consistency of opinion, instead of supporting the lying policy of +the King (as she called it) for the sake of a barren principle of +loyalty, which was but an empty expression when a King was not at +one with his people. The dissension grew bitter between +them, reaching to little less than a hot quarrel, both being +quick-tempered souls.</p> +<p>Lord Baxby was weary with his long day’s march and other +excitements, and soon retired to bed. His lady followed +some time after. Her husband slept profoundly, but not so +she; she sat brooding by the window-slit, and lifting the curtain +looked forth upon the hills without.</p> +<p>In the silence between the footfalls of the sentinels she +could hear faint sounds of her brother’s camp on the +distant hills, where the soldiery had hardly settled as yet into +their bivouac since their evening’s retreat. The +first frosts of autumn had touched the grass, and shrivelled the +more delicate leaves of the creepers; and she thought of William +sleeping on the chilly ground, under the strain of these +hardships. Tears flooded her eyes as she returned to her +husband’s imputations upon his courage, as if there could +be any doubt of Lord William’s courage after what he had +done in the past days.</p> +<p>Lord Baxby’s long and reposeful breathings in his +comfortable bed vexed her now, and she came to a determination on +an impulse. Hastily lighting a taper, she wrote on a scrap +of paper:</p> +<p>‘<i>Blood is thicker than water</i>, <i>dear +William—I will come</i>;’ and with this in her hand, +she went to the door of the room, and out upon the stairs; on +second thoughts turning back for a moment, to put on her +husband’s hat and cloak—not the one he was daily +wearing—that if seen in the twilight she might at a casual +glance appear as some lad or hanger-on of one of the household +women; thus accoutred she descended a flight of circular stairs, +at the bottom of which was a door opening upon the terrace +towards the west, in the direction of her brother’s +position. Her object was to slip out without the sentry +seeing her, get to the stables, arouse one of the varlets, and +send him ahead of her along the highway with the note to warn her +brother of her approach, to throw in her lot with his.</p> +<p>She was still in the shadow of the wall on the west terrace, +waiting for the sentinel to be quite out of the way, when her +ears were greeted by a voice, saying, from the adjoining +shade—</p> +<p>‘Here I be!’</p> +<p>The tones were the tones of a woman. Lady Baxby made no +reply, and stood close to the wall.</p> +<p>‘My Lord Baxby,’ the voice continued; and she +could recognize in it the local accent of some girl from the +little town of Sherton, close at hand. ‘I be tired of +waiting, my dear Lord Baxby! I was afeard you would never +come!’</p> +<p>Lady Baxby flushed hot to her toes.</p> +<p>‘How the wench loves him!’ she said to herself, +reasoning from the tones of the voice, which were plaintive and +sweet and tender as a bird’s. She changed from the +home-hating truant to the strategic wife in one moment.</p> +<p>‘Hist!’ she said.</p> +<p>‘My lord, you told me ten o’clock, and ’tis +near twelve now,’ continues the other. ‘How +could ye keep me waiting so if you love me as you said? I +should have stuck to my lover in the Parliament troops if it had +not been for thee, my dear lord!’</p> +<p>There was not the least doubt that Lady Baxby had been +mistaken for her husband by this intriguing damsel. Here +was a pretty underhand business! Here were sly +manoeuvrings! Here was faithlessness! Here was a +precious assignation surprised in the midst! Her wicked +husband, whom till this very moment she had ever deemed the soul +of good faith—how could he!</p> +<p>Lady Baxby precipitately retreated to the door in the turret, +closed it, locked it, and ascended one round of the staircase, +where there was a loophole. ‘I am not coming! +I, Lord Baxby, despise ye and all your wanton tribe!’ she +hissed through the opening; and then crept upstairs, as firmly +rooted in Royalist principles as any man in the Castle.</p> +<p>Her husband still slept the sleep of the weary, well-fed, and +well-drunken, if not of the just; and Lady Baxby quickly disrobed +herself without assistance—being, indeed, supposed by her +woman to have retired to rest long ago. Before lying down, +she noiselessly locked the door and placed the key under her +pillow. More than that, she got a staylace, and, creeping +up to her lord, in great stealth tied the lace in a tight knot to +one of his long locks of hair, attaching the other end of the +lace to the bedpost; for, being tired herself now, she feared she +might sleep heavily; and, if her husband should wake, this would +be a delicate hint that she had discovered all.</p> +<p>It is added that, to make assurance trebly sure, her gentle +ladyship, when she had lain down to rest, held her lord’s +hand in her own during the whole of the night. But this is +old-wives’ gossip, and not corroborated. What Lord +Baxby thought and said when he awoke the next morning, and found +himself so strangely tethered, is likewise only matter of +conjecture; though there is no reason to suppose that his rage +was great. The extent of his culpability as regards the +intrigue was this much; that, while halting at a cross-road near +Sherton that day, he had flirted with a pretty young woman, who +seemed nothing loth, and had invited her to the Castle terrace +after dark—an invitation which he quite forgot on his +arrival home.</p> +<p>The subsequent relations of Lord and Lady Baxby were not again +greatly embittered by quarrels, so far as is known; though the +husband’s conduct in later life was occasionally eccentric, +and the vicissitudes of his public career culminated in long +exile. The siege of the Castle was not regularly undertaken +till two or three years later than the time I have been +describing, when Lady Baxby and all the women therein, except the +wife of the then Governor, had been removed to safe +distance. That memorable siege of fifteen days by Fairfax, +and the surrender of the old place on an August evening, is +matter of history, and need not be told by me.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The Man of Family spoke approvingly across to the Colonel when +the Club had done smiling, declaring that the story was an +absolutely faithful page of history, as he had good reason to +know, his own people having been engaged in that well-known +scrimmage. He asked if the Colonel had ever heard the +equally well-authenticated, though less martial tale of a certain +Lady Penelope, who lived in the same century, and not a score of +miles from the same place?</p> +<p>The Colonel had not heard it, nor had anybody except the local +historian; and the inquirer was induced to proceed forthwith.</p> +<h2>DAME THE EIGHTH—THE LADY PENELOPE<br /> +By the Man of Family</h2> +<p>In going out of Casterbridge by the low-lying road which +eventually conducts to the town of Ivell, you see on the right +hand an ivied manor-house, flanked by battlemented towers, and +more than usually distinguished by the size of its many mullioned +windows. Though still of good capacity, the building is +much reduced from its original grand proportions; it has, +moreover, been shorn of the fair estate which once appertained to +its lord, with the exception of a few acres of park-land +immediately around the mansion. This was formerly the seat +of the ancient and knightly family of the Drenghards, or +Drenkhards, now extinct in the male line, whose name, according +to the local chronicles, was interpreted to mean <i>Strenuus +Miles</i>, <i>vel Potator</i>, though certain members of the +family were averse to the latter signification, and a duel was +fought by one of them on that account, as is well known. +With this, however, we are not now concerned.</p> +<p>In the early part of the reign of the first King James, there +was visiting near this place of the Drenghards a lady of noble +family and extraordinary beauty. She was of the purest +descent; ah, there’s seldom such blood nowadays as +hers! She possessed no great wealth, it was said, but was +sufficiently endowed. Her beauty was so perfect, and her +manner so entrancing, that suitors seemed to spring out of the +ground wherever she went, a sufficient cause of anxiety to the +Countess her mother, her only living parent. Of these there +were three in particular, whom neither her mother’s +complaints of prematurity, nor the ready raillery of the maiden +herself, could effectually put off. The said gallants were +a certain Sir John Gale, a Sir William Hervy, and the well-known +Sir George Drenghard, one of the Drenghard family +before-mentioned. They had, curiously enough, all been +equally honoured with the distinction of knighthood, and their +schemes for seeing her were manifold, each fearing that one of +the others would steal a march over himself. Not content +with calling, on every imaginable excuse, at the house of the +relative with whom she sojourned, they intercepted her in rides +and in walks; and if any one of them chanced to surprise another +in the act of paying her marked attentions, the encounter often +ended in an altercation of great violence. So heated and +impassioned, indeed, would they become, that the lady hardly felt +herself safe in their company at such times, notwithstanding that +she was a brave and buxom damsel, not easily put out, and with a +daring spirit of humour in her composition, if not of +coquetry.</p> +<p>At one of these altercations, which had place in her +relative’s grounds, and was unusually bitter, threatening +to result in a duel, she found it necessary to assert +herself. Turning haughtily upon the pair of disputants, she +declared that whichever should be the first to break the peace +between them, no matter what the provocation, that man should +never be admitted to her presence again; and thus would she +effectually stultify the aggressor by making the promotion of a +quarrel a distinct bar to its object.</p> +<p>While the two knights were wearing rather a crest-fallen +appearance at her reprimand, the third, never far off, came upon +the scene, and she repeated her caveat to him also. Seeing, +then, how great was the concern of all at her peremptory mood, +the lady’s manner softened, and she said with a roguish +smile—</p> +<p>‘Have patience, have patience, you foolish men! +Only bide your time quietly, and, in faith, I will marry you all +in turn!’</p> +<p>They laughed heartily at this sally, all three together, as +though they were the best of friends; at which she blushed, and +showed some embarrassment, not having realized that her arch jest +would have sounded so strange when uttered. The meeting +which resulted thus, however, had its good effect in checking the +bitterness of their rivalry; and they repeated her speech to +their relatives and acquaintance with a hilarious frequency and +publicity that the lady little divined, or she might have blushed +and felt more embarrassment still.</p> +<p>In the course of time the position resolved itself, and the +beauteous Lady Penelope (as she was called) made up her mind; her +choice being the eldest of the three knights, Sir George +Drenghard, owner of the mansion aforesaid, which thereupon became +her home; and her husband being a pleasant man, and his family, +though not so noble, of as good repute as her own, all things +seemed to show that she had reckoned wisely in honouring him with +her preference.</p> +<p>But what may lie behind the still and silent veil of the +future none can foretell. In the course of a few months the +husband of her choice died of his convivialities (as if, indeed, +to bear out his name), and the Lady Penelope was left alone as +mistress of his house. By this time she had apparently +quite forgotten her careless declaration to her lovers +collectively; but the lovers themselves had not forgotten it; +and, as she would now be free to take a second one of them, Sir +John Gale appeared at her door as early in her widowhood as it +was proper and seemly to do so.</p> +<p>She gave him little encouragement; for, of the two remaining, +her best beloved was Sir William, of whom, if the truth must be +told, she had often thought during her short married life. +But he had not yet reappeared. Her heart began to be so +much with him now that she contrived to convey to him, by +indirect hints through his friends, that she would not be +displeased by a renewal of his former attentions. Sir +William, however, misapprehended her gentle signalling, and from +excellent, though mistaken motives of delicacy, delayed to +intrude himself upon her for a long time. Meanwhile Sir +John, now created a baronet, was unremitting, and she began to +grow somewhat piqued at the backwardness of him she secretly +desired to be forward.</p> +<p>‘Never mind,’ her friends said jestingly to her +(knowing of her humorous remark, as everybody did, that she would +marry them all three if they would have +patience)—‘never mind; why hesitate upon the order of +them? Take ’em as they come.’</p> +<p>This vexed her still more, and regretting deeply, as she had +often done, that such a careless speech should ever have passed +her lips, she fairly broke down under Sir John’s +importunity, and accepted his hand. They were married on a +fine spring morning, about the very time at which the unfortunate +Sir William discovered her preference for him, and was beginning +to hasten home from a foreign court to declare his unaltered +devotion to her. On his arrival in England he learnt the +sad truth.</p> +<p>If Sir William suffered at her precipitancy under what she had +deemed his neglect, the Lady Penelope herself suffered +more. She had not long been the wife of Sir John Gale +before he showed a disposition to retaliate upon her for the +trouble and delay she had put him to in winning her. With +increasing frequency he would tell her that, as far as he could +perceive, she was an article not worth such labour as he had +bestowed in obtaining it, and such snubbings as he had taken from +his rivals on the same account. These and other cruel +things he repeated till he made the lady weep sorely, and +wellnigh broke her spirit, though she had formerly been such a +mettlesome dame. By degrees it became perceptible to all +her friends that her life was a very unhappy one; and the fate of +the fair woman seemed yet the harder in that it was her own +stately mansion, left to her sole use by her first husband, which +her second had entered into and was enjoying, his being but a +mean and meagre erection.</p> +<p>But such is the flippancy of friends that when she met them, +and secretly confided her grief to their ears, they would say +cheerily, ‘Lord, never mind, my dear; there’s a third +to come yet!’—at which maladroit remark she would +show much indignation, and tell them they should know better than +to trifle on so solemn a theme. Yet that the poor lady +would have been only too happy to be the wife of the third, +instead of Sir John whom she had taken, was painfully obvious, +and much she was blamed for her foolish choice by some +people. Sir William, however, had returned to foreign +cities on learning the news of her marriage, and had never been +heard of since.</p> +<p>Two or three years of suffering were passed by Lady Penelope +as the despised and chidden wife of this man Sir John, amid +regrets that she had so greatly mistaken him, and sighs for one +whom she thought never to see again, till it chanced that her +husband fell sick of some slight ailment. One day after +this, when she was sitting in his room, looking from the window +upon the expanse in front, she beheld, approaching the house on +foot, a form she seemed to know well. Lady Penelope +withdrew silently from the sickroom, and descended to the hall, +whence, through the doorway, she saw entering between the two +round towers, which at that time flanked the gateway, Sir William +Hervy, as she had surmised, but looking thin and +travel-worn. She advanced into the courtyard to meet +him.</p> +<p>‘I was passing through Casterbridge,’ he said, +with faltering deference, ‘and I walked out to ask after +your ladyship’s health. I felt that I could do no +less; and, of course, to pay my respects to your good husband, my +heretofore acquaintance . . . But oh, Penelope, th’st look +sick and sorry!’</p> +<p>‘I am heartsick, that’s all,’ said she.</p> +<p>They could see in each other an emotion which neither wished +to express, and they stood thus a long time with tears in their +eyes.</p> +<p>‘He does not treat ’ee well, I hear,’ said +Sir William in a low voice. ‘May God in Heaven +forgive him; but it is asking a great deal!’</p> +<p>‘Hush, hush!’ said she hastily.</p> +<p>‘Nay, but I will speak what I may honestly say,’ +he answered. ‘I am not under your roof, and my tongue +is free. Why didst not wait for me, Penelope, or send to me +a more overt letter? I would have travelled night and day +to come!’</p> +<p>‘Too late, William; you must not ask it,’ said +she, endeavouring to quiet him as in old times. ‘My +husband just now is unwell. He will grow better in a day or +two, maybe. You must call again and see him before you +leave Casterbridge.’</p> +<p>As she said this their eyes met. Each was thinking of +her lightsome words about taking the three men in turn; each +thought that two-thirds of that promise had been fulfilled. +But, as if it were unpleasant to her that this recollection +should have arisen, she spoke again quickly: ‘Come again in +a day or two, when my husband will be well enough to see +you.’</p> +<p>Sir William departed without entering the house, and she +returned to Sir John’s chamber. He, rising from his +pillow, said, ‘To whom hast been talking, wife, in the +courtyard? I heard voices there.’</p> +<p>She hesitated, and he repeated the question more +impatiently.</p> +<p>‘I do not wish to tell you now,’ said she.</p> +<p>‘But I wooll know!’ said he.</p> +<p>Then she answered, ‘Sir William Hervy.’</p> +<p>‘By G--- I thought as much!’ cried Sir John, drops +of perspiration standing on his white face. ‘A +skulking villain! A sick man’s ears are keen, my +lady. I heard that they were lover-like tones, and he +called ’ee by your Christian name. These be your +intrigues, my lady, when I am off my legs awhile!’</p> +<p>‘On my honour,’ cried she, ‘you do me a +wrong. I swear I did not know of his coming!’</p> +<p>‘Swear as you will,’ said Sir John, ‘I +don’t believe ’ee.’ And with this he +taunted her, and worked himself into a greater passion, which +much increased his illness. His lady sat still, +brooding. There was that upon her face which had seldom +been there since her marriage; and she seemed to think anew of +what she had so lightly said in the days of her freedom, when her +three lovers were one and all coveting her hand. ‘I +began at the wrong end of them,’ she murmured. +‘My God—that did I!’</p> +<p>‘What?’ said he.</p> +<p>‘A trifle,’ said she. ‘I spoke to +myself only.’</p> +<p>It was somewhat strange that after this day, while she went +about the house with even a sadder face than usual, her churlish +husband grew worse; and what was more, to the surprise of all, +though to the regret of few, he died a fortnight later. Sir +William had not called upon him as he had promised, having +received a private communication from Lady Penelope, frankly +informing him that to do so would be inadvisable, by reason of +her husband’s temper.</p> +<p>Now when Sir John was gone, and his remains carried to his +family burying-place in another part of England, the lady began +in due time to wonder whither Sir William had betaken +himself. But she had been cured of precipitancy (if ever +woman were), and was prepared to wait her whole lifetime a widow +if the said Sir William should not reappear. Her life was +now passed mostly within the walls, or in promenading between the +pleasaunce and the bowling-green; and she very seldom went even +so far as the high road which then skirted the grounds on the +north, though it has now, and for many years, been diverted to +the south side. Her patience was rewarded (if love be in +any case a reward); for one day, many months after her second +husband’s death, a messenger arrived at her gate with the +intelligence that Sir William Hervy was again in Casterbridge, +and would be glad to know if it were her pleasure that he should +wait upon her.</p> +<p>It need hardly be said that permission was joyfully granted, +and within two hours her lover stood before her, a more +thoughtful man than formerly, but in all essential respects the +same man, generous, modest to diffidence, and sincere. The +reserve which womanly decorum threw over her manner was but too +obviously artificial, and when he said ‘the ways of +Providence are strange,’ and added after a moment, +‘and merciful likewise,’ she could not conceal her +agitation, and burst into tears upon his neck.</p> +<p>‘But this is too soon,’ she said, starting +back.</p> +<p>‘But no,’ said he. ‘You are eleven +months gone in widowhood, and it is not as if Sir John had been a +good husband to you.’</p> +<p>His visits grew pretty frequent now, as may well be guessed, +and in a month or two he began to urge her to an early +union. But she counselled a little longer delay.</p> +<p>‘Why?’ said he. ‘Surely I have waited +long! Life is short; we are getting older every day, and I +am the last of the three.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the lady frankly. ‘And +that is why I would not have you hasten. Our marriage may +seem so strange to everybody, after my unlucky remark on that +occasion we know so well, and which so many others know likewise, +thanks to talebearers.’</p> +<p>On this representation he conceded a little space, for the +sake of her good name. But the destined day of their +marriage at last arrived, and it was a gay time for the villagers +and all concerned, and the bells in the parish church rang from +noon till night. Thus at last she was united to the man who +had loved her the most tenderly of them all, who but for his +reticence might perhaps have been the first to win her. +Often did he say to himself; ‘How wondrous that her words +should have been fulfilled! Many a truth hath been spoken +in jest, but never a more remarkable one!’ The noble +lady herself preferred not to dwell on the coincidence, a certain +shyness, if not shame, crossing her fair face at any allusion +thereto.</p> +<p>But people will have their say, sensitive souls or none, and +their sayings on this third occasion took a singular shape. +‘Surely,’ they whispered, ‘there is something +more than chance in this . . . The death of the first was +possibly natural; but what of the death of the second, who +ill-used her, and whom, loving the third so desperately, she must +have wished out of the way?’</p> +<p>Then they pieced together sundry trivial incidents of Sir +John’s illness, and dwelt upon the indubitable truth that +he had grown worse after her lover’s unexpected visit; till +a very sinister theory was built up as to the hand she may have +had in Sir John’s premature demise. But nothing of +this suspicion was said openly, for she was a lady of noble +birth—nobler, indeed, than either of her husbands—and +what people suspected they feared to express in formal +accusation.</p> +<p>The mansion that she occupied had been left to her for so long +a time as she should choose to reside in it, and, having a regard +for the spot, she had coaxed Sir William to remain there. +But in the end it was unfortunate; for one day, when in the full +tide of his happiness, he was walking among the willows near the +gardens, where he overheard a conversation between some +basket-makers who were cutting the osiers for their use. In +this fatal dialogue the suspicions of the neighbouring townsfolk +were revealed to him for the first time.</p> +<p>‘A cupboard close to his bed, and the key in her +pocket. Ah!’ said one.</p> +<p>‘And a blue phial therein—h’m!’ said +another.</p> +<p>‘And spurge-laurel leaves among the hearth-ashes. +Oh-oh!’ said a third.</p> +<p>On his return home Sir William seemed to have aged +years. But he said nothing; indeed, it was a thing +impossible. And from that hour a ghastly estrangement +began. She could not understand it, and simply +waited. One day he said, however, ‘I must go +abroad.’</p> +<p>‘Why?’ said she. ‘William, have I +offended you?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said he; ‘but I must go.’</p> +<p>She could coax little more out of him, and in itself there was +nothing unnatural in his departure, for he had been a wanderer +from his youth. In a few days he started off, apparently +quite another man than he who had rushed to her side so devotedly +a few months before.</p> +<p>It is not known when, or how, the rumours, which were so thick +in the atmosphere around her, actually reached the Lady +Penelope’s ears, but that they did reach her there is no +doubt. It was impossible that they should not; the district +teemed with them; they rustled in the air like night-birds of +evil omen. Then a reason for her husband’s departure +occurred to her appalled mind, and a loss of health became +quickly apparent. She dwindled thin in the face, and the +veins in her temples could all be distinctly traced. An +inner fire seemed to be withering her away. Her rings fell +off her fingers, and her arms hung like the flails of the +threshers, though they had till lately been so round and so +elastic. She wrote to her husband repeatedly, begging him +to return to her; but he, being in extreme and wretched doubt, +moreover, knowing nothing of her ill-health, and never suspecting +that the rumours had reached her also, deemed absence best, and +postponed his return awhile, giving various good reasons for his +delay.</p> +<p>At length, however, when the Lady Penelope had given birth to +a still-born child, her mother, the Countess, addressed a letter +to Sir William, requesting him to come back to her if he wished +to see her alive; since she was wasting away of some mysterious +disease, which seemed to be rather mental than physical. It +was evident that his mother-in-law knew nothing of the secret, +for she lived at a distance; but Sir William promptly hastened +home, and stood beside the bed of his now dying wife.</p> +<p>‘Believe me, William,’ she said when they were +alone, ‘I am innocent—innocent!’</p> +<p>‘Of what?’ said he. ‘Heaven forbid +that I should accuse you of anything!’</p> +<p>‘But you do accuse me—silently!’ she +gasped. ‘I could not write thereon—and ask you +to hear me. It was too much, too degrading. But would +that I had been less proud! They suspect me of poisoning +him, William! But, oh my dear husband, I am innocent of +that wicked crime! He died naturally. I loved +you—too soon; but that was all!’</p> +<p>Nothing availed to save her. The worm had gnawed too far +into her heart before Sir William’s return for anything to +be remedial now; and in a few weeks she breathed her last. +After her death the people spoke louder, and her conduct became a +subject of public discussion. A little later on, the +physician, who had attended the late Sir John, heard the rumour, +and came down from the place near London to which he latterly had +retired, with the express purpose of calling upon Sir William +Hervy, now staying in Casterbridge.</p> +<p>He stated that, at the request of a relative of Sir +John’s, who wished to be assured on the matter by reason of +its suddenness, he had, with the assistance of a surgeon, made a +private examination of Sir John’s body immediately after +his decease, and found that it had resulted from purely natural +causes. Nobody at this time had breathed a suspicion of +foul play, and therefore nothing was said which might afterwards +have established her innocence.</p> +<p>It being thus placed beyond doubt that this beautiful and +noble lady had been done to death by a vile scandal that was +wholly unfounded, her husband was stung with a dreadful remorse +at the share he had taken in her misfortunes, and left the +country anew, this time never to return alive. He survived +her but a few years, and his body was brought home and buried +beside his wife’s under the tomb which is still visible in +the parish church. Until lately there was a good portrait +of her, in weeds for her first husband, with a cross in her hand, +at the ancestral seat of her family, where she was much pitied, +as she deserved to be. Yet there were some severe enough to +say—and these not unjust persons in other +respects—that though unquestionably innocent of the crime +imputed to her, she had shown an unseemly wantonness in +contracting three marriages in such rapid succession; that the +untrue suspicion might have been ordered by Providence (who often +works indirectly) as a punishment for her self-indulgence. +Upon that point I have no opinion to offer.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The reverend the Vice-President, however, the tale being +ended, offered as his opinion that her fate ought to be quite +clearly recognized as a punishment. So thought the +Churchwarden, and also the quiet gentleman sitting near. +The latter knew many other instances in point, one of which could +be narrated in a few words.</p> +<h2>DAME THE NINTH—THE DUCHESS OF HAMPTONSHIRE<br /> +By the Quiet Gentleman</h2> +<p>Some fifty years ago, the then Duke of Hamptonshire, fifth of +that title, was incontestibly the head man in his county, and +particularly in the neighbourhood of Batton. He came of the +ancient and loyal family of Saxelbye, which, before its +ennoblement, had numbered many knightly and ecclesiastical +celebrities in its male line. It would have occupied a +painstaking county historian a whole afternoon to take rubbings +of the numerous effigies and heraldic devices graven to their +memory on the brasses, tablets, and altar-tombs in the aisle of +the parish-church. The Duke himself, however, was a man +little attracted by ancient chronicles in stone and metal, even +when they concerned his own beginnings. He allowed his mind +to linger by preference on the many graceless and unedifying +pleasures which his position placed at his command. He +could on occasion close the mouths of his dependents by a good +bomb-like oath, and he argued doggedly with the parson on the +virtues of cock-fighting and baiting the bull.</p> +<p>This nobleman’s personal appearance was somewhat +impressive. His complexion was that of the copper-beech +tree. His frame was stalwart, though slightly +stooping. His mouth was large, and he carried an unpolished +sapling as his walking-stick, except when he carried a spud for +cutting up any thistle he encountered on his walks. His +castle stood in the midst of a park, surrounded by dusky elms, +except to the southward; and when the moon shone out, the +gleaming stone facade, backed by heavy boughs, was visible from +the distant high road as a white spot on the surface of +darkness. Though called a castle, the building was little +fortified, and had been erected with greater eye to internal +convenience than those crannied places of defence to which the +name strictly appertains. It was a castellated mansion as +regular as a chessboard on its ground-plan, ornamented with +make-believe bastions and machicolations, behind which were +stacks of battlemented chimneys. On still mornings, at the +fire-lighting hour, when ghostly house-maids stalk the corridors, +and thin streaks of light through the shutter-chinks lend +startling winks and smiles to ancestors on canvas, twelve or +fifteen thin stems of blue smoke sprouted upwards from these +chimney-tops, and spread into a flat canopy on high. Around +the site stretched ten thousand acres of good, fat, unimpeachable +soil, plentiful in glades and lawns wherever visible from the +castle-windows, and merging in homely arable where screened from +the too curious eye by ingeniously-contrived plantations.</p> +<p>Some way behind the owner of all this came the second man in +the parish, the rector, the Honourable and Reverend Mr. +Oldbourne, a widower, over stiff and stern for a clergyman, whose +severe white neckcloth, well-kept gray hair, and right-lined face +betokened none of those sympathetic traits whereon depends so +much of a parson’s power to do good among his +fellow-creatures. The last, far-removed man of the +series—altogether the Neptune of these local +primaries—was the curate, Mr. Alwyn Hill. He was a +handsome young deacon with curly hair, dreamy eyes—so +dreamy that to look long into them was like ascending and +floating among summer clouds—a complexion as fresh as a +flower, and a chin absolutely beardless. Though his age was +about twenty-five, he looked not much over nineteen.</p> +<p>The rector had a daughter called Emmeline, of so sweet and +simple a nature that her beauty was discovered, measured, and +inventoried by almost everybody in that part of the country +before it was suspected by herself to exist. She had been +bred in comparative solitude; a rencounter with men troubled and +confused her. Whenever a strange visitor came to her +father’s house she slipped into the orchard and remained +till he was gone, ridiculing her weakness in apostrophes, but +unable to overcome it. Her virtues lay in no resistant +force of character, but in a natural inappetency for evil things, +which to her were as unmeaning as joints of flesh to a +herbivorous creature. Her charms of person, manner, and +mind, had been clear for some time to the Antinous in orders, and +no less so to the Duke, who, though scandalously ignorant of +dainty phrases, ever showing a clumsy manner towards the gentler +sex, and, in short, not at all a lady’s man, took fire to a +degree that was wellnigh terrible at sudden sight of Emmeline, a +short time after she was turned seventeen.</p> +<p>It occurred one afternoon at the corner of a shrubbery between +the castle and the rectory, where the Duke was standing to watch +the heaving of a mole, when the fair girl brushed past at a +distance of a few yards, in the full light of the sun, and +without hat or bonnet. The Duke went home like a man who +had seen a spirit. He ascended to the picture-gallery of +his castle, and there passed some time in staring at the bygone +beauties of his line as if he had never before considered what an +important part those specimens of womankind had played in the +evolution of the Saxelbye race. He dined alone, drank +rather freely, and declared to himself that Emmeline Oldbourne +must be his.</p> +<p>Meanwhile there had unfortunately arisen between the curate +and this girl some sweet and secret understanding. +Particulars of the attachment remained unknown then and always, +but it was plainly not approved of by her father. His +procedure was cold, hard, and inexorable. Soon the curate +disappeared from the parish, almost suddenly, after bitter and +hard words had been heard to pass between him and the rector one +evening in the garden, intermingled with which, like the cries of +the dying in the din of battle, were the beseeching sobs of a +woman. Not long after this it was announced that a marriage +between the Duke and Miss Oldbourne was to be solemnized at a +surprisingly early date.</p> +<p>The wedding-day came and passed; and she was a Duchess. +Nobody seemed to think of the ousted man during the day, or else +those who thought of him concealed their meditations. Some +of the less subservient ones were disposed to speak in a jocular +manner of the august husband and wife, others to make correct and +pretty speeches about them, according as their sex and nature +dictated. But in the evening, the ringers in the belfry, +with whom Alwyn had been a favourite, eased their minds a little +concerning the gentle young man, and the possible regrets of the +woman he had loved.</p> +<p>‘Don’t you see something wrong in it all?’ +said the third bell as he wiped his face. ‘I know +well enough where she would have liked to stable her horses +to-night, when they have done their journey.’</p> +<p>‘That is, you would know if you could tell where young +Mr. Hill is living, which is known to none in the +parish.’</p> +<p>‘Except to the lady that this ring o’ grandsire +triples is in honour of.’</p> +<p>Yet these friendly cottagers were at this time far from +suspecting the real dimensions of Emmeline’s misery, nor +was it clear even to those who came into much closer communion +with her than they, so well had she concealed her +heart-sickness. But bride and bridegroom had not long been +home at the castle when the young wife’s unhappiness became +plainly enough perceptible. Her maids and men said that she +was in the habit of turning to the wainscot and shedding stupid +scalding tears at a time when a right-minded lady would have been +overhauling her wardrobe. She prayed earnestly in the great +church-pew, where she sat lonely and insignificant as a mouse in +a cell, instead of counting her rings, falling asleep, or amusing +herself in silent laughter at the queer old people in the +congregation, as previous beauties of the family had done in +their time. She seemed to care no more for eating and +drinking out of crystal and silver than from a service of earthen +vessels. Her head was, in truth, full of something else; +and that such was the case was only too obvious to the Duke, her +husband. At first he would only taunt her for her folly in +thinking of that milk-and-water parson; but as time went on his +charges took a more positive shape. He would not believe +her assurance that she had in no way communicated with her former +lover, nor he with her, since their parting in the presence of +her father. This led to some strange scenes between them +which need not be detailed; their result was soon to take a +catastrophic shape.</p> +<p>One dark quiet evening, about two months after the marriage, a +man entered the gate admitting from the highway to the park and +avenue which ran up to the house. He arrived within two +hundred yards of the walls, when he left the gravelled drive and +drew near to the castle by a roundabout path leading into a +shrubbery. Here he stood still. In a few minutes the +strokes of the castle-clock resounded, and then a female figure +entered the same secluded nook from an opposite direction. +There the two indistinct persons leapt together like a pair of +dewdrops on a leaf; and then they stood apart, facing each other, +the woman looking down.</p> +<p>‘Emmeline, you begged me to come, and here I am, Heaven +forgive me!’ said the man hoarsely.</p> +<p>‘You are going to emigrate, Alwyn,’ she said in +broken accents. ‘I have heard of it; you sail from +Plymouth in three days in the <i>Western Glory</i>?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. I can live in England no longer. Life +is as death to me here,’ says he.</p> +<p>‘My life is even worse—worse than death. +Death would not have driven me to this extremity. Listen, +Alwyn—I have sent for you to beg to go with you, or at +least to be near you—to do anything so that it be not to +stay here.’</p> +<p>‘To go away with me?’ he said in a startled +tone.</p> +<p>‘Yes, yes—or under your direction, or by your help +in some way! Don’t be horrified at me—you must +bear with me whilst I implore it. Nothing short of cruelty +would have driven me to this. I could have borne my doom in +silence had I been left unmolested; but he tortures me, and I +shall soon be in the grave if I cannot escape.’</p> +<p>To his shocked inquiry how her husband tortured her, the +Duchess said that it was by jealousy. ‘He tries to +wring admissions from me concerning you,’ she said, +‘and will not believe that I have not communicated with you +since my engagement to him was settled by my father, and I was +forced to agree to it.’</p> +<p>The poor curate said that this was the heaviest news of +all. ‘He has not personally ill-used you?’ he +asked.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ she whispered.</p> +<p>‘What has he done?’</p> +<p>She looked fearfully around, and said, sobbing: ‘In +trying to make me confess to what I have never done, he adopts +plans I dare not describe for terrifying me into a weak state, so +that I may own to anything! I resolved to write to you, as +I had no other friend.’ She added, with dreary irony, +‘I thought I would give him some ground for his suspicion, +so as not to disgrace his judgment.’</p> +<p>‘Do you really mean, Emmeline,’ he tremblingly +inquired, ‘that you—that you want to fly with +me?’</p> +<p>‘Can you think that I would act otherwise than in +earnest at such a time as this?’</p> +<p>He was silent for a minute or more. ‘You must not +go with me,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Why?’</p> +<p>‘It would be sin.’</p> +<p>‘It <i>cannot</i> be sin, for I have never wanted to +commit sin in my life; and it isn’t likely I would begin +now, when I pray every day to die and be sent to Heaven out of my +misery!’</p> +<p>‘But it is wrong, Emmeline, all the same.’</p> +<p>‘Is it wrong to run away from the fire that scorches +you?’</p> +<p>‘It would look wrong, at any rate, in this +case.’</p> +<p>‘Alwyn, Alwyn, take me, I beseech you!’ she burst +out. ‘It is not right in general, I know, but it is +such an exceptional instance, this. Why has such a severe +strain been put upon me? I was doing no harm, injuring no +one, helping many people, and expecting happiness; yet trouble +came. Can it be that God holds me in derision? I had +no supporter—I gave way; and now my life is a burden and a +shame to me . . . Oh, if you only knew how much to me this +request to you is—how my life is wrapped up in it, you +could not deny me!’</p> +<p>‘This is almost beyond endurance—Heaven support +us,’ he groaned. ‘Emmy, you are the Duchess of +Hamptonshire, the Duke of Hamptonshire’s wife; you must not +go with me!’</p> +<p>‘And am I then refused?—Oh, am I refused?’ +she cried frantically. ‘Alwyn, Alwyn, do you say it +indeed to me?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I do, dear, tender heart! I do most sadly +say it. You must not go. Forgive me, for there is no +alternative but refusal. Though I die, though you die, we +must not fly together. It is forbidden in God’s +law. Good-bye, for always and ever!’</p> +<p>He tore himself away, hastened from the shrubbery, and +vanished among the trees.</p> +<p>Three days after this meeting and farewell, Alwyn, his soft, +handsome features stamped with a haggard hardness that ten years +of ordinary wear and tear in the world could scarcely have +produced, sailed from Plymouth on a drizzling morning, in the +passenger-ship <i>Western Glory</i>. When the land had +faded behind him he mechanically endeavoured to school himself +into a stoical frame of mind. His attempt, backed up by the +strong moral staying power that had enabled him to resist the +passionate temptation to which Emmeline, in her reckless +trustfulness, had exposed him, was rewarded by a certain kind of +success, though the murmuring stretch of waters whereon he gazed +day after day too often seemed to be articulating to him in tones +of her well-remembered voice.</p> +<p>He framed on his journey rules of conduct for reducing to mild +proportions the feverish regrets which would occasionally arise +and agitate him, when he indulged in visions of what might have +been had he not hearkened to the whispers of conscience. He +fixed his thoughts for so many hours a day on philosophical +passages in the volumes he had brought with him, allowing himself +now and then a few minutes’ thought of Emmeline, with the +strict yet reluctant niggardliness of an ailing epicure +proportioning the rank drinks that cause his malady. The +voyage was marked by the usual incidents of a sailing-passage in +those days—a storm, a calm, a man overboard, a birth, and a +funeral—the latter sad event being one in which he, as the +only clergyman on board, officiated, reading the service ordained +for the purpose. The ship duly arrived at Boston early in +the month following, and thence he proceeded to Providence to +seek out a distant relative.</p> +<p>After a short stay at Providence he returned again to Boston, +and by applying himself to a serious occupation made good +progress in shaking off the dreary melancholy which enveloped him +even now. Distracted and weakened in his beliefs by his +recent experiences, he decided that he could not for a time +worthily fill the office of a minister of religion, and applied +for the mastership of a school. Some introductions, given +him before starting, were useful now, and he soon became known as +a respectable scholar and gentleman to the trustees of one of the +colleges. This ultimately led to his retirement from the +school and installation in the college as Professor of rhetoric +and oratory.</p> +<p>Here and thus he lived on, exerting himself solely because of +a conscientious determination to do his duty. He passed his +winter evenings in turning sonnets and elegies, often giving his +thoughts voice in ‘Lines to an Unfortunate Lady,’ +while his summer leisure at the same hour would be spent in +watching the lengthening shadows from his window, and fancifully +comparing them with the shades of his own life. If he +walked, he mentally inquired which was the eastern quarter of the +landscape, and thought of two thousand miles of water that way, +and of what was beyond it. In a word he was at all spare +times dreaming of her who was only a memory to him, and would +probably never be more.</p> +<p>Nine years passed by, and under their wear and tear Alwyn +Hill’s face lost a great many of the attractive +characteristics which had formerly distinguished it. He was +kind to his pupils and affable to all who came in contact with +him; but the kernel of his life, his secret, was kept as snugly +shut up as though he had been dumb. In talking to his +acquaintances of England and his life there, he omitted the +episode of Batton Castle and Emmeline as if it had no existence +in his calendar at all. Though of towering importance to +himself, it had filled but a short and small fragment of time, an +ephemeral season which would have been wellnigh imperceptible, +even to him, at this distance, but for the incident it +enshrined.</p> +<p>One day, at this date, when cursorily glancing over an old +English newspaper, he observed a paragraph which, short as it +was, contained for him whole tomes of thrilling +information—rung with more passion-stirring rhythm than the +collected cantos of all the poets. It was an announcement +of the death of the Duke of Hamptonshire, leaving behind him a +widow, but no children.</p> +<p>The current of Alwyn’s thoughts now completely +changed. On looking again at the newspaper he found it to +be one that was sent him long ago, and had been carelessly thrown +aside. But for an accidental overhauling of the waste +journals in his study he might not have known of the event for +years. At this moment of reading the Duke had already been +dead seven months. Alwyn could now no longer bind himself +down to machine-made synecdoche, antithesis, and climax, being +full of spontaneous specimens of all these rhetorical forms, +which he dared not utter. Who shall wonder that his mind +luxuriated in dreams of a sweet possibility now laid open for the +first time these many years? for Emmeline was to him now as ever +the one dear thing in all the world. The issue of his +silent romancing was that he resolved to return to her at the +very earliest moment.</p> +<p>But he could not abandon his professional work on the +instant. He did not get really quite free from engagements +till four months later; but, though suffering throes of +impatience continually, he said to himself every day: ‘If +she has continued to love me nine years she will love me ten; she +will think the more tenderly of me when her present hours of +solitude shall have done their proper work; old times will revive +with the cessation of her recent experience, and every day will +favour my return.’</p> +<p>The enforced interval soon passed, and he duly arrived in +England, reaching the village of Batton on a certain winter day +between twelve and thirteen months subsequent to the time of the +Duke’s death.</p> +<p>It was evening; yet such was Alwyn’s impatience that he +could not forbear taking, this very night, one look at the castle +which Emmeline had entered as unhappy mistress ten years +before. He threaded the park trees, gazed in passing at +well-known outlines which rose against the dim sky, and was soon +interested in observing that lively country-people, in parties of +two and three, were walking before and behind him up the +interlaced avenue to the castle gateway. Knowing himself to +be safe from recognition, Alwyn inquired of one of these +pedestrians what was going on.</p> +<p>‘Her Grace gives her tenantry a ball to-night, to keep +up the old custom of the Duke and his father before him, which +she does not wish to change.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed. Has she lived here entirely alone since +the Duke’s death?’</p> +<p>‘Quite alone. But though she doesn’t receive +company herself, she likes the village people to enjoy +themselves, and often has ’em here.’</p> +<p>‘Kind-hearted, as always!’ thought Alwyn.</p> +<p>On reaching the castle he found that the great gates at the +tradesmen’s entrance were thrown back against the wall as +if they were never to be closed again; that the passages and +rooms in that wing were brilliantly lighted up, some of the +numerous candles guttering down over the green leaves which +decorated them, and upon the silk dresses of the happy +farmers’ wives as they passed beneath, each on her +husband’s arm. Alwyn found no difficulty in marching +in along with the rest, the castle being Liberty Hall +to-night. He stood unobserved in a corner of the large +apartment where dancing was about to begin.</p> +<p>‘Her Grace, though hardly out of mourning, will be sure +to come down and lead off the dance with neighbour Bates,’ +said one.</p> +<p>‘Who is neighbour Bates?’ asked Alwyn.</p> +<p>‘An old man she respects much—the oldest of her +tenant-farmers. He was seventy-eight his last +birthday.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, to be sure!’ said Alwyn, at his ease. +‘I remember.’</p> +<p>The dancers formed in line, and waited. A door opened at +the farther end of the hall, and a lady in black silk came +forth. She bowed, smiled, and proceeded to the top of the +dance.</p> +<p>‘Who is that lady?’ said Alwyn, in a puzzled +tone. ‘I thought you told me that the Duchess of +Hamptonshire—’</p> +<p>‘That is the Duchess,’ said his informant.</p> +<p>‘But there is another?’</p> +<p>‘No; there is no other.’</p> +<p>‘But she is not the Duchess of Hamptonshire—who +used to—’ Alwyn’s tongue stuck to his mouth, he +could get no farther.</p> +<p>‘What’s the matter?’ said his +acquaintance. Alwyn had retired, and was supporting himself +against the wall.</p> +<p>The wretched Alwyn murmured something about a stitch in his +side from walking. Then the music struck up, the dance went +on, and his neighbour became so interested in watching the +movements of this strange Duchess through its mazes as to forget +Alwyn for a while.</p> +<p>It gave him an opportunity to brace himself up. He was a +man who had suffered, and he could suffer again. ‘How +came that person to be your Duchess?’ he asked in a firm, +distinct voice, when he had attained complete self-command. +‘Where is her other Grace of Hamptonshire? There +certainly was another. I know it.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, the previous one! Yes, yes. She ran +away years and years ago with the young curate. Mr. Hill +was the young man’s name, if I recollect.’</p> +<p>‘No! She never did. What do you mean by +that?’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Yes, she certainly ran away. She met the curate +in the shrubbery about a couple of months after her marriage with +the Duke. There were folks who saw the meeting and heard +some words of their talk. They arranged to go, and she +sailed from Plymouth with him a day or two afterward.’</p> +<p>‘That’s not true.’</p> +<p>‘Then ’tis the queerest lie ever told by +man. Her father believed and knew to his dying day that she +went with him; and so did the Duke, and everybody about +here. Ay, there was a fine upset about it at the +time. The Duke traced her to Plymouth.’</p> +<p>‘Traced her to Plymouth?’</p> +<p>‘He traced her to Plymouth, and set on his spies; and +they found that she went to the shipping-office, and inquired if +Mr. Alwyn Hill had entered his name as passenger by the +<i>Western Glory</i>; and when she found that he had, she booked +herself for the same ship, but not in her real name. When +the vessel had sailed a letter reached the Duke from her, telling +him what she had done. She never came back here +again. His Grace lived by himself a number of years, and +married this lady only twelve months before he died.’</p> +<p>Alwyn was in a state of indescribable bewilderment. But, +unmanned as he was, he called the next day on the, to him, +spurious Duchess of Hamptonshire. At first she was alarmed +at his statement, then cold, then she was won over by his +condition to give confidence for confidence. She showed him +a letter which had been found among the papers of the late Duke, +corroborating what Alwyn’s informant had detailed. It +was from Emmeline, bearing the postmarked date at which the +<i>Western Glory</i> sailed, and briefly stated that she had +emigrated by that ship to America.</p> +<p>Alwyn applied himself body and mind to unravel the remainder +of the mystery. The story repeated to him was always the +same: ‘She ran away with the curate.’ A +strangely circumstantial piece of intelligence was added to this +when he had pushed his inquiries a little further. There +was given him the name of a waterman at Plymouth, who had come +forward at the time that she was missed and sought for by her +husband, and had stated that he put her on board the <i>Western +Glory</i> at dusk one evening before that vessel sailed.</p> +<p>After several days of search about the alleys and quays of +Plymouth Barbican, during which these impossible words, +‘She ran off with the curate,’ became branded on his +brain, Alwyn found this important waterman. He was positive +as to the truth of his story, still remembering the incident +well, and he described in detail the lady’s dress, as he +had long ago described it to her husband, which description +corresponded in every particular with the dress worn by Emmeline +on the evening of their parting.</p> +<p>Before proceeding to the other side of the Atlantic to +continue his inquiries there, the puzzled and distracted Alwyn +set himself to ascertain the address of Captain Wheeler, who had +commanded the <i>Western Glory</i> in the year of Alwyn’s +voyage out, and immediately wrote a letter to him on the +subject.</p> +<p>The only circumstances which the sailor could recollect or +discover from his papers in connection with such a story were, +that a woman bearing the name which Alwyn had mentioned as +fictitious certainly did come aboard for a voyage he made about +that time; that she took a common berth among the poorest +emigrants; that she died on the voyage out, at about five +days’ sail from Plymouth; that she seemed a lady in manners +and education. Why she had not applied for a first-class +passage, why she had no trunks, they could not guess, for though +she had little money in her pocket she had that about her which +would have fetched it. ‘We buried her at sea,’ +continued the captain. ‘A young parson, one of the +cabin-passengers, read the burial-service over her, I remember +well.’</p> +<p>The whole scene and proceedings darted upon Alwyn’s +recollection in a moment. It was a fine breezy morning on +that long-past voyage out, and he had been told that they were +running at the rate of a hundred and odd miles a day. The +news went round that one of the poor young women in the other +part of the vessel was ill of fever, and delirious. The +tidings caused no little alarm among all the passengers, for the +sanitary conditions of the ship were anything but +satisfactory. Shortly after this the doctor announced that +she had died. Then Alwyn had learnt that she was laid out +for burial in great haste, because of the danger that would have +been incurred by delay. And next the funeral scene rose +before him, and the prominent part that he had taken in that +solemn ceremony. The captain had come to him, requesting +him to officiate, as there was no chaplain on board. This +he had agreed to do; and as the sun went down with a blaze in his +face he read amidst them all assembled: ‘We therefore +commit her body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, +looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give +up her dead.’</p> +<p>The captain also forwarded the addresses of the ship’s +matron and of other persons who had been engaged on board at the +date. To these Alwyn went in the course of time. A +categorical description of the clothes of the dead truant, the +colour of her hair, and other things, extinguished for ever all +hope of a mistake in identity.</p> +<p>At last, then, the course of events had become clear. On +that unhappy evening when he left Emmeline in the shrubbery, +forbidding her to follow him because it would be a sin, she must +have disobeyed. She must have followed at his heels +silently through the darkness, like a poor pet animal that will +not be driven back. She could have accumulated nothing for +the journey more than she might have carried in her hand; and +thus poorly provided she must have embarked. Her intention +had doubtless been to make her presence on board known to him as +soon as she could muster courage to do so.</p> +<p>Thus the ten years’ chapter of Alwyn Hill’s +romance wound itself up under his eyes. That the poor young +woman in the steerage had been the young Duchess of Hamptonshire +was never publicly disclosed. Hill had no longer any reason +for remaining in England, and soon after left its shores with no +intention to return. Previous to his departure he confided +his story to an old friend from his native town—grandfather +of the person who now relates it to you.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>A few members, including the Bookworm, seemed to be impressed +by the quiet gentleman’s tale; but the member we have +called the Spark—who, by the way, was getting somewhat +tinged with the light of other days, and owned to +eight-and-thirty—walked daintily about the room instead of +sitting down by the fire with the majority and said that for his +part he preferred something more lively than the last +story—something in which such long-separated lovers were +ultimately united. He also liked stories that were more +modern in their date of action than those he had heard +to-day.</p> +<p>Members immediately requested him to give them a specimen, to +which the Spark replied that he didn’t mind, as far as that +went. And though the Vice-President, the Man of Family, the +Colonel, and others, looked at their watches, and said they must +soon retire to their respective quarters in the hotel adjoining, +they all decided to sit out the Spark’s story.</p> +<h2>DAME THE TENTH—THE HONOURABLE LAURA<br /> +By the Spark</h2> +<p>It was a cold and gloomy Christmas Eve. The mass of +cloud overhead was almost impervious to such daylight as still +lingered on; the snow lay several inches deep upon the ground, +and the slanting downfall which still went on threatened to +considerably increase its thickness before the morning. The +Prospect Hotel, a building standing near the wild north coast of +Lower Wessex, looked so lonely and so useless at such a time as +this that a passing wayfarer would have been led to forget summer +possibilities, and to wonder at the commercial courage which +could invest capital, on the basis of the popular taste for the +picturesque, in a country subject to such dreary phases. +That the district was alive with visitors in August seemed but a +dim tradition in weather so totally opposed to all that tempts +mankind from home. However, there the hotel stood +immovable; and the cliffs, creeks, and headlands which were the +primary attractions of the spot, rising in full view on the +opposite side of the valley, were now but stern angular outlines, +while the townlet in front was tinged over with a grimy dirtiness +rather than the pearly gray that in summer lent such beauty to +its appearance.</p> +<p>Within the hotel commanding this outlook the landlord walked +idly about with his hands in his pockets, not in the least +expectant of a visitor, and yet unable to settle down to any +occupation which should compensate in some degree for the losses +that winter idleness entailed on his regular profession. So +little, indeed, was anybody expected, that the coffee-room +waiter—a genteel boy, whose plated buttons in summer were +as close together upon the front of his short jacket as peas in a +pod—now appeared in the back yard, metamorphosed into the +unrecognizable shape of a rough country lad in corduroys and +hobnailed boots, sweeping the snow away, and talking the local +dialect in all its purity, quite oblivious of the new polite +accent he had learned in the hot weather from the well-behaved +visitors. The front door was closed, and, as if to express +still more fully the sealed and chrysalis state of the +establishment, a sand-bag was placed at the bottom to keep out +the insidious snowdrift, the wind setting in directly from that +quarter.</p> +<p>The landlord, entering his own parlour, walked to the large +fire which it was absolutely necessary to keep up for his +comfort, no such blaze burning in the coffee-room or elsewhere, +and after giving it a stir returned to a table in the lobby, +whereon lay the visitors’ book—now closed and pushed +back against the wall. He carelessly opened it; not a name +had been entered there since the 19th of the previous November, +and that was only the name of a man who had arrived on a +tricycle, who, indeed, had not been asked to enter at all.</p> +<p>While he was engaged thus the evening grew darker; but before +it was as yet too dark to distinguish objects upon the road +winding round the back of the cliffs, the landlord perceived a +black spot on the distant white, which speedily enlarged itself +and drew near. The probabilities were that this +vehicle—for a vehicle of some sort it seemed to +be—would pass by and pursue its way to the nearest +railway-town as others had done. But, contrary to the +landlord’s expectation, as he stood conning it through the +yet unshuttered windows, the solitary object, on reaching the +corner, turned into the hotel-front, and drove up to the +door.</p> +<p>It was a conveyance particularly unsuited to such a season and +weather, being nothing more substantial than an open +basket-carriage drawn by a single horse. Within sat two +persons, of different sexes, as could soon be discerned, in spite +of their muffled attire. The man held the reins, and the +lady had got some shelter from the storm by clinging close to his +side. The landlord rang the hostler’s bell to attract +the attention of the stable-man, for the approach of the visitors +had been deadened to noiselessness by the snow, and when the +hostler had come to the horse’s head the gentleman and lady +alighted, the landlord meeting them in the hall.</p> +<p>The male stranger was a foreign-looking individual of about +eight-and-twenty. He was close-shaven, excepting a +moustache, his features being good, and even handsome. The +lady, who stood timidly behind him, seemed to be much +younger—possibly not more than eighteen, though it was +difficult to judge either of her age or appearance in her present +wrappings.</p> +<p>The gentleman expressed his wish to stay till the morning, +explaining somewhat unnecessarily, considering that the house was +an inn, that they had been unexpectedly benighted on their +drive. Such a welcome being given them as landlords can +give in dull times, the latter ordered fires in the drawing and +coffee-rooms, and went to the boy in the yard, who soon scrubbed +himself up, dragged his disused jacket from its box, polished the +buttons with his sleeve, and appeared civilized in the +hall. The lady was shown into a room where she could take +off her snow-damped garments, which she sent down to be dried, +her companion, meanwhile, putting a couple of sovereigns on the +table, as if anxious to make everything smooth and comfortable at +starting, and requesting that a private sitting-room might be got +ready. The landlord assured him that the best upstairs +parlour—usually public—should be kept private this +evening, and sent the maid to light the candles. Dinner was +prepared for them, and, at the gentleman’s desire, served +in the same apartment; where, the young lady having joined him, +they were left to the rest and refreshment they seemed to +need.</p> +<p>That something was peculiar in the relations of the pair had +more than once struck the landlord, though wherein that +peculiarity lay it was hard to decide. But that his guest +was one who paid his way readily had been proved by his conduct, +and dismissing conjectures, he turned to practical affairs.</p> +<p>About nine o’clock he re-entered the hall, and, +everything being done for the day, again walked up and down, +occasionally gazing through the glass door at the prospect +without, to ascertain how the weather was progressing. +Contrary to prognostication, snow had ceased falling, and, with +the rising of the moon, the sky had partially cleared, light +fleeces of cloud drifting across the silvery disk. There +was every sign that a frost was going to set in later on. +For these reasons the distant rising road was even more distinct +now between its high banks than it had been in the declining +daylight. Not a track or rut broke the virgin surface of +the white mantle that lay along it, all marks left by the lately +arrived travellers having been speedily obliterated by the flakes +falling at the time.</p> +<p>And now the landlord beheld by the light of the moon a sight +very similar to that he had seen by the light of day. Again +a black spot was advancing down the road that margined the +coast. He was in a moment or two enabled to perceive that +the present vehicle moved onward at a more headlong pace than the +little carriage which had preceded it; next, that it was a +brougham drawn by two powerful horses; next, that this carriage, +like the former one, was bound for the hotel-door. This +desirable feature of resemblance caused the landlord to once more +withdraw the sand-bag and advance into the porch.</p> +<p>An old gentleman was the first to alight. He was +followed by a young one, and both unhesitatingly came +forward.</p> +<p>‘Has a young lady, less than nineteen years of age, +recently arrived here in the company of a man some years her +senior?’ asked the old gentleman, in haste. ‘A +man cleanly shaven for the most part, having the appearance of an +opera-singer, and calling himself Signor Smithozzi?’</p> +<p>‘We have had arrivals lately,’ said the landlord, +in the tone of having had twenty at least—not caring to +acknowledge the attenuated state of business that afflicted +Prospect Hotel in winter.</p> +<p>‘And among them can your memory recall two persons such +as those I describe?—the man a sort of baritone?’</p> +<p>‘There certainly is or was a young couple staying in the +hotel; but I could not pronounce on the compass of the +gentleman’s voice.’</p> +<p>‘No, no; of course not. I am quite +bewildered. They arrived in a basket-carriage, altogether +badly provided?’</p> +<p>‘They came in a carriage, I believe, as most of our +visitors do.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, yes. I must see them at once. Pardon +my want of ceremony, and show us in to where they are.’</p> +<p>‘But, sir, you forget. Suppose the lady and +gentleman I mean are not the lady and gentleman you mean? +It would be awkward to allow you to rush in upon them just now +while they are at dinner, and might cause me to lose their future +patronage.’</p> +<p>‘True, true. They may not be the same +persons. My anxiety, I perceive, makes me rash in my +assumptions!’</p> +<p>‘Upon the whole, I think they must be the same, Uncle +Quantock,’ said the young man, who had not till now +spoken. And turning to the landlord: ‘You possibly +have not such a large assemblage of visitors here, on this +somewhat forbidding evening, that you quite forget how this +couple arrived, and what the lady wore?’ His tone of +addressing the landlord had in it a quiet frigidity that was not +without irony.</p> +<p>‘Ah! what she wore; that’s it, James. What +did she wear?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t usually take stock of my guests’ +clothing,’ replied the landlord drily, for the ready money +of the first arrival had decidedly biassed him in favour of that +gentleman’s cause. ‘You can certainly see some +of it if you want to,’ he added carelessly, ‘for it +is drying by the kitchen fire.’</p> +<p>Before the words were half out of his mouth the old gentleman +had exclaimed, ‘Ah!’ and precipitated himself along +what seemed to be the passage to the kitchen; but as this turned +out to be only the entrance to a dark china-closet, he hastily +emerged again, after a collision with the inn-crockery had told +him of his mistake.</p> +<p>‘I beg your pardon, I’m sure; but if you only knew +my feelings (which I cannot at present explain), you would make +allowances. Anything I have broken I will willingly pay +for.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t mention it, sir,’ said the +landlord. And showing the way, they adjourned to the +kitchen without further parley. The eldest of the party +instantly seized the lady’s cloak, that hung upon a +clothes-horse, exclaiming: ‘Ah! yes, James, it is +hers. I knew we were on their track.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, it is hers,’ answered the nephew quietly, +for he was much less excited than his companion.</p> +<p>‘Show us their room at once,’ said the old +man.</p> +<p>‘William, have the lady and gentleman in the front +sitting-room finished dining?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, sir, long ago,’ said the hundred plated +buttons.</p> +<p>‘Then show up these gentlemen to them at once. You +stay here to-night, gentlemen, I presume? Shall the horses +be taken out?’</p> +<p>‘Feed the horses and wash their mouths. Whether we +stay or not depends upon circumstances,’ said the placid +younger man, as he followed his uncle and the waiter to the +staircase.</p> +<p>‘I think, Nephew James,’ said the former, as he +paused with his foot on the first step—‘I think we +had better not be announced, but take them by surprise. She +may go throwing herself out of the window, or do some equally +desperate thing!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, certainly, we’ll enter +unannounced.’ And he called back the lad who preceded +them.</p> +<p>‘I cannot sufficiently thank you, James, for so +effectually aiding me in this pursuit!’ exclaimed the old +gentleman, taking the other by the hand. ‘My +increasing infirmities would have hindered my overtaking her +to-night, had it not been for your timely aid.’</p> +<p>‘I am only too happy, uncle, to have been of service to +you in this or any other matter. I only wish I could have +accompanied you on a pleasanter journey. However, it is +advisable to go up to them at once, or they may hear +us.’ And they softly ascended the stairs.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>On the door being opened, a room too large to be comfortable, +lit by the best branch-candlesticks of the hotel, was disclosed, +before the fire of which apartment the truant couple were +sitting, very innocently looking over the hotel scrap-book and +the album containing views of the neighbourhood. No sooner +had the old man entered than the young lady—who now showed +herself to be quite as young as described, and remarkably +prepossessing as to features—perceptibly turned pale. +When the nephew entered, she turned still paler, as if she were +going to faint. The young man described as an opera-singer +rose with grim civility, and placed chairs for his visitors.</p> +<p>‘Caught you, thank God!’ said the old gentleman +breathlessly.</p> +<p>‘Yes, worse luck, my lord!’ murmured Signor +Smithozzi, in native London-English, that distinguished alien +having, in fact, first seen the light in the vicinity of the City +Road. ‘She would have been mine to-morrow. And +I think that under the peculiar circumstances it would be +wiser—considering how soon the breath of scandal will +tarnish a lady’s fame—to let her be mine to-morrow, +just the same.’</p> +<p>‘Never!’ said the old man. ‘Here is a +lady under age, without experience—child-like in her maiden +innocence and virtue—whom you have plied by your vile arts, +till this morning at dawn—’</p> +<p>‘Lord Quantock, were I not bound to respect your gray +hairs—’</p> +<p>‘Till this morning at dawn you tempted her away from her +father’s roof. What blame can attach to her conduct +that will not, on a full explanation of the matter, be readily +passed over in her and thrown entirely on you? Laura, you +return at once with me. I should not have arrived, after +all, early enough to deliver you, if it had not been for the +disinterestedness of your cousin, Captain Northbrook, who, on my +discovering your flight this morning, offered with a promptitude +for which I can never sufficiently thank him, to accompany me on +my journey, as the only male relative I have near me. Come, +do you hear? Put on your things; we are off at +once.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t want to go!’ pouted the young +lady.</p> +<p>‘I daresay you don’t,’ replied her father +drily. ‘But children never know what’s best for +them. So come along, and trust to my opinion.’</p> +<p>Laura was silent, and did not move, the opera gentleman +looking helplessly into the fire, and the lady’s cousin +sitting meditatively calm, as the single one of the four whose +position enabled him to survey the whole escapade with the cool +criticism of a comparative outsider.</p> +<p>‘I say to you, Laura, as the father of a daughter under +age, that you instantly come with me. What? Would you +compel me to use physical force to reclaim you?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t want to return!’ again declared +Laura.</p> +<p>‘It is your duty to return nevertheless, and at once, I +inform you.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t want to!’</p> +<p>‘Now, dear Laura, this is what I say: return with me and +your cousin James quietly, like a good and repentant girl, and +nothing will be said. Nobody knows what has happened as +yet, and if we start at once, we shall be home before it is light +to-morrow morning. Come.’</p> +<p>‘I am not obliged to come at your bidding, father, and I +would rather not!’</p> +<p>Now James, the cousin, during this dialogue might have been +observed to grow somewhat restless, and even impatient. +More than once he had parted his lips to speak, but second +thoughts each time held him back. The moment had come, +however, when he could keep silence no longer.</p> +<p>‘Come, madam!’ he spoke out, ‘this farce +with your father has, in my opinion, gone on long enough. +Just make no more ado, and step downstairs with us.’</p> +<p>She gave herself an intractable little twist, and did not +reply.</p> +<p>‘By the Lord Harry, Laura, I won’t stand +this!’ he said angrily. ‘Come, get on your +things before I come and compel you. There is a kind of +compulsion to which this talk is child’s play. Come, +madam—instantly, I say!’</p> +<p>The old nobleman turned to his nephew and said mildly: +‘Leave me to insist, James. It doesn’t become +you. I can speak to her sharply enough, if I +choose.’</p> +<p>James, however, did not heed his uncle, and went on to the +troublesome young woman: ‘You say you don’t want to +come, indeed! A pretty story to tell me, that! Come, +march out of the room at once, and leave that hulking fellow for +me to deal with afterward. Get on +quickly—come!’ and he advanced toward her as if to +pull her by the hand.</p> +<p>‘Nay, nay,’ expostulated Laura’s father, +much surprised at his nephew’s sudden demeanour. +‘You take too much upon yourself. Leave her to +me.’</p> +<p>‘I won’t leave her to you any longer!’</p> +<p>‘You have no right, James, to address either me or her +in this way; so just hold your tongue. Come, my +dear.’</p> +<p>‘I have every right!’ insisted James.</p> +<p>‘How do you make that out?’</p> +<p>‘I have the right of a husband.’</p> +<p>‘Whose husband?’</p> +<p>‘Hers.’</p> +<p>‘What?’</p> +<p>‘She’s my wife.’</p> +<p>‘James!’</p> +<p>‘Well, to cut a long story short, I may say that she +secretly married me, in spite of your lordship’s +prohibition, about three months ago. And I must add that, +though she cooled down rather quickly, everything went on +smoothly enough between us for some time; in spite of the +awkwardness of meeting only by stealth. We were only +waiting for a convenient moment to break the news to you when +this idle Adonis turned up, and after poisoning her mind against +me, brought her into this disgrace.’</p> +<p>Here the operatic luminary, who had sat in rather an +abstracted and nerveless attitude till the cousin made his +declaration, fired up and cried: ‘I declare before Heaven +that till this moment I never knew she was a wife! I found +her in her father’s house an unhappy girl—unhappy, as +I believe, because of the loneliness and dreariness of that +establishment, and the want of society, and for nothing else +whatever. What this statement about her being your wife +means I am quite at a loss to understand. Are you indeed +married to him, Laura?’</p> +<p>Laura nodded from within her tearful handkerchief. +‘It was because of my anomalous position in being privately +married to him,’ she sobbed, ‘that I was unhappy at +home—and—and I didn’t like him so well as I did +at first—and I wished I could get out of the mess I was +in! And then I saw you a few times, and when you said, +“We’ll run off,” I thought I saw a way out of +it all, and then I agreed to come with +you—oo-oo!’</p> +<p>‘Well! well! well! And is this true?’ +murmured the bewildered old nobleman, staring from James to +Laura, and from Laura to James, as if he fancied they might be +figments of the imagination. ‘Is this, then, James, +the secret of your kindness to your old uncle in helping him to +find his daughter? Good Heavens! What further depths +of duplicity are there left for a man to learn!’</p> +<p>‘I have married her, Uncle Quantock, as I said,’ +answered James coolly. ‘The deed is done, and +can’t be undone by talking here.’</p> +<p>‘Where were you married?’</p> +<p>‘At St. Mary’s, Toneborough.’</p> +<p>‘When?’</p> +<p>‘On the 29th of September, during the time she was +visiting there.’</p> +<p>‘Who married you?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know. One of the curates—we +were quite strangers to the place. So, instead of my +assisting you to recover her, you may as well assist +me.’</p> +<p>‘Never! never!’ said Lord Quantock. +‘Madam, and sir, I beg to tell you that I wash my hands of +the whole affair! If you are man and wife, as it seems you +are, get reconciled as best you may. I have no more to say +or do with either of you. I leave you, Laura, in the hands +of your husband, and much joy may you bring him; though the +situation, I own, is not encouraging.’</p> +<p>Saying this, the indignant speaker pushed back his chair +against the table with such force that the candlesticks rocked on +their bases, and left the room.</p> +<p>Laura’s wet eyes roved from one of the young men to the +other, who now stood glaring face to face, and, being much +frightened at their aspect, slipped out of the room after her +father. Him, however, she could hear going out of the front +door, and, not knowing where to take shelter, she crept into the +darkness of an adjoining bedroom, and there awaited events with a +palpitating heart.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the two men remaining in the sitting-room drew +nearer to each other, and the opera-singer broke the silence by +saying, ‘How could you insult me in the way you did, +calling me a fellow, and accusing me of poisoning her mind toward +you, when you knew very well I was as ignorant of your relation +to her as an unborn babe?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, you were quite ignorant; I can believe that +readily,’ sneered Laura’s husband.</p> +<p>‘I here call Heaven to witness that I never +knew!’</p> +<p>‘Recitativo—the rhythm excellent, and the tone +well sustained. Is it likely that any man could win the +confidence of a young fool her age, and not get that out of +her? Preposterous! Tell it to the most improved new +pit-stalls.’</p> +<p>‘Captain Northbrook, your insinuations are as despicable +as your wretched person!’ cried the baritone, losing all +patience. And springing forward he slapped the captain in +the face with the palm of his hand.</p> +<p>Northbrook flinched but slightly, and calmly using his +handkerchief to learn if his nose was bleeding, said, ‘I +quite expected this insult, so I came prepared.’ And +he drew forth from a black valise which he carried in his hand a +small case of pistols.</p> +<p>The baritone started at the unexpected sight, but recovering +from his surprise said, ‘Very well, as you will,’ +though perhaps his tone showed a slight want of confidence.</p> +<p>‘Now,’ continued the husband, quite confidingly, +‘we want no parade, no nonsense, you know. Therefore +we’ll dispense with seconds?’</p> +<p>The signor slightly nodded.</p> +<p>‘Do you know this part of the country well?’ +Cousin James went on, in the same cool and still manner. +‘If you don’t, I do. Quite at the bottom of the +rocks out there, just beyond the stream which falls over them to +the shore, is a smooth sandy space, not so much shut in as to be +out of the moonlight; and the way down to it from this side is +over steps cut in the cliff; and we can find our way down without +trouble. We—we two—will find our way down; but +only one of us will find his way up, you understand?’</p> +<p>‘Quite.’</p> +<p>‘Then suppose we start; the sooner it is over the +better. We can order supper before we go out—supper +for two; for though we are three at present—’</p> +<p>‘Three?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; you and I and she—’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes.’</p> +<p>‘—We shall be only two by and by; so that, as I +say, we will order supper for two; for the lady and a +gentleman. Whichever comes back alive will tap at her door, +and call her in to share the repast with him—she’s +not off the premises. But we must not alarm her now; and +above all things we must not let the inn-people see us go out; it +would look so odd for two to go out, and only one come in. +Ha! ha!’</p> +<p>‘Ha! ha! exactly.’</p> +<p>‘Are you ready?’</p> +<p>‘Oh—quite.’</p> +<p>‘Then I’ll lead the way.’</p> +<p>He went softly to the door and downstairs, ordering supper to +be ready in an hour, as he had said; then making a feint of +returning to the room again, he beckoned to the singer, and +together they slipped out of the house by a side door.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The sky was now quite clear, and the wheelmarks of the +brougham which had borne away Laura’s father, Lord +Quantock, remained distinctly visible. Soon the verge of +the down was reached, the captain leading the way, and the +baritone following silently, casting furtive glances at his +companion, and beyond him at the scene ahead. In due course +they arrived at the chasm in the cliff which formed the +waterfall. The outlook here was wild and picturesque in the +extreme, and fully justified the many praises, paintings, and +photographic views to which the spot had given birth. What +in summer was charmingly green and gray, was now rendered weird +and fantastic by the snow.</p> +<p>From their feet the cascade plunged downward almost vertically +to a depth of eighty or a hundred feet before finally losing +itself in the sand, and though the stream was but small, its +impact upon jutting rocks in its descent divided it into a +hundred spirts and splashes that sent up a mist into the upper +air. A few marginal drippings had been frozen into icicles, +but the centre flowed on unimpeded.</p> +<p>The operatic artist looked down as he halted, but his thoughts +were plainly not of the beauty of the scene. His companion +with the pistols was immediately in front of him, and there was +no handrail on the side of the path toward the chasm. +Obeying a quick impulse, he stretched out his arm, and with a +superhuman thrust sent Laura’s husband reeling over. +A whirling human shape, diminishing downward in the moon’s +rays farther and farther toward invisibility, a smack-smack upon +the projecting ledges of rock—at first louder and heavier +than that of the brook, and then scarcely to be distinguished +from it—then a cessation, then the splashing of the stream +as before, and the accompanying murmur of the sea, were all the +incidents that disturbed the customary flow of the little +waterfall.</p> +<p>The singer waited in a fixed attitude for a few minutes, then +turning, he rapidly retraced his steps over the intervening +upland toward the road, and in less than a quarter of an hour was +at the door of the hotel. Slipping quietly in as the clock +struck ten, he said to the landlord, over the bar +hatchway—</p> +<p>‘The bill as soon as you can let me have it, including +charges for the supper that was ordered, though we cannot stay to +eat it, I am sorry to say.’ He added with forced +gaiety, ‘The lady’s father and cousin have thought +better of intercepting the marriage, and after quarrelling with +each other have gone home independently.’</p> +<p>‘Well done, sir!’ said the landlord, who still +sided with this customer in preference to those who had given +trouble and barely paid for baiting the horses. +‘“Love will find out the way!” as the saying +is. Wish you joy, sir!’</p> +<p>Signor Smithozzi went upstairs, and on entering the +sitting-room found that Laura had crept out from the dark +adjoining chamber in his absence. She looked up at him with +eyes red from weeping, and with symptoms of alarm.</p> +<p>‘What is it?—where is he?’ she said +apprehensively.</p> +<p>‘Captain Northbrook has gone back. He says he will +have no more to do with you.’</p> +<p>‘And I am quite abandoned by them!—and +they’ll forget me, and nobody care about me any +more!’ She began to cry afresh.</p> +<p>‘But it is the luckiest thing that could have +happened. All is just as it was before they came disturbing +us. But, Laura, you ought to have told me about that +private marriage, though it is all the same now; it will be +dissolved, of course. You are a wid—virtually a +widow.’</p> +<p>‘It is no use to reproach me for what is past. +What am I to do now?’</p> +<p>‘We go at once to Cliff-Martin. The horse has +rested thoroughly these last three hours, and he will have no +difficulty in doing an additional half-dozen miles. We +shall be there before twelve, and there are late taverns in the +place, no doubt. There we’ll sell both horse and +carriage to-morrow morning; and go by the coach to +Downstaple. Once in the train we are safe.’</p> +<p>‘I agree to anything,’ she said listlessly.</p> +<p>In about ten minutes the horse was put in, the bill paid, the +lady’s dried wraps put round her, and the journey +resumed.</p> +<p>When about a mile on their way, they saw a glimmering light in +advance of them. ‘I wonder what that is?’ said +the baritone, whose manner had latterly become nervous, every +sound and sight causing him to turn his head.</p> +<p>‘It is only a turnpike,’ said she. +‘That light is the lamp kept burning over the +door.’</p> +<p>‘Of course, of course, dearest. How stupid I +am!’</p> +<p>On reaching the gate they perceived that a man on foot had +approached it, apparently by some more direct path than the +roadway they pursued, and was, at the moment they drew up, +standing in conversation with the gatekeeper.</p> +<p>‘It is quite impossible that he could fall over the +cliff by accident or the will of God on such a light night as +this,’ the pedestrian was saying. ‘These two +children I tell you of saw two men go along the path toward the +waterfall, and ten minutes later only one of ’em came back, +walking fast, like a man who wanted to get out of the way because +he had done something queer. There is no manner of doubt +that he pushed the other man over, and, mark me, it will soon +cause a hue and cry for that man.’</p> +<p>The candle shone in the face of the Signor and showed that +there had arisen upon it a film of ghastliness. Laura, +glancing toward him for a few moments observed it, till, the +gatekeeper having mechanically swung open the gate, her companion +drove through, and they were soon again enveloped in the white +silence.</p> +<p>Her conductor had said to Laura, just before, that he meant to +inquire the way at this turnpike; but he had certainly not done +so.</p> +<p>As soon as they had gone a little farther the omission, +intentional or not, began to cause them some trouble. +Beyond the secluded district which they now traversed ran the +more frequented road, where progress would be easy, the snow +being probably already beaten there to some extent by traffic; +but they had not yet reached it, and having no one to guide them +their journey began to appear less feasible than it had done +before starting. When the little lane which they had +entered ascended another hill, and seemed to wind round in a +direction contrary to the expected route to Cliff-Martin, the +question grew serious. Ever since overhearing the +conversation at the turnpike, Laura had maintained a perfect +silence, and had even shrunk somewhat away from the side of her +lover.</p> +<p>‘Why don’t you talk, Laura,’ he said with +forced buoyancy, ‘and suggest the way we should +go?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, I will,’ she responded, a curious +fearfulness being audible in her voice.</p> +<p>After this she uttered a few occasional sentences which seemed +to persuade him that she suspected nothing. At last he drew +rein, and the weary horse stood still.</p> +<p>‘We are in a fix,’ he said.</p> +<p>She answered eagerly: ‘I’ll hold the reins while +you run forward to the top of the ridge, and see if the road +takes a favourable turn beyond. It would give the horse a +few minutes’ rest, and if you find out no change in the +direction, we will retrace this lane, and take the other +turning.’</p> +<p>The expedient seemed a good one in the circumstances, +especially when recommended by the singular eagerness of her +voice; and placing the reins in her hands—a quite +unnecessary precaution, considering the state of their +hack—he stepped out and went forward through the snow till +she could see no more of him.</p> +<p>No sooner was he gone than Laura, with a rapidity which +contrasted strangely with her previous stillness, made fast the +reins to the corner of the phaeton, and slipping out on the +opposite side, ran back with all her might down the hill, till, +coming to an opening in the fence, she scrambled through it, and +plunged into the copse which bordered this portion of the +lane. Here she stood in hiding under one of the large +bushes, clinging so closely to its umbrage as to seem but a +portion of its mass, and listening intently for the faintest +sound of pursuit. But nothing disturbed the stillness save +the occasional slipping of gathered snow from the boughs, or the +rustle of some wild animal over the crisp flake-bespattered +herbage. At length, apparently convinced that her former +companion was either unable to find her, or not anxious to do so, +in the present strange state of affairs, she crept out from the +bushes, and in less than an hour found herself again approaching +the door of the Prospect Hotel.</p> +<p>As she drew near, Laura could see that, far from being wrapped +in darkness, as she might have expected, there were ample signs +that all the tenants were on the alert, lights moving about the +open space in front. Satisfaction was expressed in her face +when she discerned that no reappearance of her baritone and his +pony-carriage was causing this sensation; but it speedily gave +way to grief and dismay when she saw by the lights the form of a +man borne on a stretcher by two others into the porch of the +hotel.</p> +<p>‘I have caused all this,’ she murmured between her +quivering lips. ‘He has murdered him!’ +Running forward to the door, she hastily asked of the first +person she met if the man on the stretcher was dead.</p> +<p>‘No, miss,’ said the labourer addressed, eyeing +her up and down as an unexpected apparition. ‘He is +still alive, they say, but not sensible. He either fell or +was pushed over the waterfall; ’tis thoughted he was +pushed. He is the gentleman who came here just now with the +old lord, and went out afterward (as is thoughted) with a +stranger who had come a little earlier. Anyhow, +that’s as I had it.’</p> +<p>Laura entered the house, and acknowledging without the least +reserve that she was the injured man’s wife, had soon +installed herself as head nurse by the bed on which he lay. +When the two surgeons who had been sent for arrived, she learned +from them that his wounds were so severe as to leave but a +slender hope of recovery, it being little short of miraculous +that he was not killed on the spot, which his enemy had evidently +reckoned to be the case. She knew who that enemy was, and +shuddered.</p> +<p>Laura watched all night, but her husband knew nothing of her +presence. During the next day he slightly recognized her, +and in the evening was able to speak. He informed the +surgeons that, as was surmised, he had been pushed over the +cascade by Signor Smithozzi; but he communicated nothing to her +who nursed him, not even replying to her remarks; he nodded +courteously at any act of attention she rendered, and that was +all.</p> +<p>In a day or two it was declared that everything favoured his +recovery, notwithstanding the severity of his injuries. +Full search was made for Smithozzi, but as yet there was no +intelligence of his whereabouts, though the repentant Laura +communicated all she knew. As far as could be judged, he +had come back to the carriage after searching out the way, and +finding the young lady missing, had looked about for her till he +was tired; then had driven on to Cliff-Martin, sold the horse and +carriage next morning, and disappeared, probably by one of the +departing coaches which ran thence to the nearest station, the +only difference from his original programme being that he had +gone alone.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>During the days and weeks of that long and tedious recovery, +Laura watched by her husband’s bedside with a zeal and +assiduity which would have considerably extenuated any fault save +one of such magnitude as hers. That her husband did not +forgive her was soon obvious. Nothing that she could do in +the way of smoothing pillows, easing his position, shifting +bandages, or administering draughts, could win from him more than +a few measured words of thankfulness, such as he would probably +have uttered to any other woman on earth who had performed these +particular services for him.</p> +<p>‘Dear, dear James,’ she said one day, bending her +face upon the bed in an excess of emotion. ‘How you +have suffered! It has been too cruel. I am more glad +you are getting better than I can say. I have prayed for +it—and I am sorry for what I have done; I am innocent of +the worst, and—I hope you will not think me so very bad, +James!’</p> +<p>‘Oh no. On the contrary, I shall think you very +good—as a nurse,’ he answered, the caustic severity +of his tone being apparent through its weakness.</p> +<p>Laura let fall two or three silent tears, and said no more +that day.</p> +<p>Somehow or other Signor Smithozzi seemed to be making good his +escape. It transpired that he had not taken a passage in +either of the suspected coaches, though he had certainly got out +of the county; altogether, the chance of finding him was +problematical.</p> +<p>Not only did Captain Northbrook survive his injuries, but it +soon appeared that in the course of a few weeks he would find +himself little if any the worse for the catastrophe. It +could also be seen that Laura, while secretly hoping for her +husband’s forgiveness for a piece of folly of which she saw +the enormity more clearly every day, was in great doubt as to +what her future relations with him would be. Moreover, to +add to the complication, whilst she, as a runaway wife, was +unforgiven by her husband, she and her husband, as a runaway +couple, were unforgiven by her father, who had never once +communicated with either of them since his departure from the +inn. But her immediate anxiety was to win the pardon of her +husband, who possibly might be bearing in mind, as he lay upon +his couch, the familiar words of Brabantio, ‘She has +deceived her father, and may thee.’</p> +<p>Matters went on thus till Captain Northbrook was able to walk +about. He then removed with his wife to quiet apartments on +the south coast, and here his recovery was rapid. Walking +up the cliffs one day, supporting him by her arm as usual, she +said to him, simply, ‘James, if I go on as I am going now, +and always attend to your smallest want, and never think of +anything but devotion to you, will you—try to like me a +little?’</p> +<p>‘It is a thing I must carefully consider,’ he +said, with the same gloomy dryness which characterized all his +words to her now. ‘When I have considered, I will +tell you.’</p> +<p>He did not tell her that evening, though she lingered long at +her routine work of making his bedroom comfortable, putting the +light so that it would not shine into his eyes, seeing him fall +asleep, and then retiring noiselessly to her own chamber. +When they met in the morning at breakfast, and she had asked him +as usual how he had passed the night, she added timidly, in the +silence which followed his reply, ‘Have you +considered?’</p> +<p>‘No, I have not considered sufficiently to give you an +answer.’</p> +<p>Laura sighed, but to no purpose; and the day wore on with +intense heaviness to her, and the customary modicum of strength +gained to him.</p> +<p>The next morning she put the same question, and looked up +despairingly in his face, as though her whole life hung upon his +reply.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I have considered,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘We must part.’</p> +<p>‘O James!’</p> +<p>‘I cannot forgive you; no man would. Enough is +settled upon you to keep you in comfort, whatever your father may +do. I shall sell out, and disappear from this +hemisphere.’</p> +<p>‘You have absolutely decided?’ she asked +miserably. ‘I have nobody now to c-c-care +for—’</p> +<p>‘I have absolutely decided,’ he shortly +returned. ‘We had better part here. You will go +back to your father. There is no reason why I should +accompany you, since my presence would only stand in the way of +the forgiveness he will probably grant you if you appear before +him alone. We will say farewell to each other in three days +from this time. I have calculated on being ready to go on +that day.’</p> +<p>Bowed down with trouble, she withdrew to her room, and the +three days were passed by her husband in writing letters and +attending to other business-matters, saying hardly a word to her +the while. The morning of departure came; but before the +horses had been put in to take the severed twain in different +directions, out of sight of each other, possibly for ever, the +postman arrived with the morning letters.</p> +<p>There was one for the captain; none for her—there were +never any for her. However, on this occasion something was +enclosed for her in his, which he handed her. She read it +and looked up helpless.</p> +<p>‘My dear father—is dead!’ she said. In +a few moments she added, in a whisper, ‘I must go to the +Manor to bury him . . . Will you go with me, James?’</p> +<p>He musingly looked out of the window. ‘I suppose +it is an awkward and melancholy undertaking for a woman +alone,’ he said coldly. ‘Well, well—my +poor uncle!—Yes, I’ll go with you, and see you +through the business.’</p> +<p>So they went off together instead of asunder, as +planned. It is unnecessary to record the details of the +journey, or of the sad week which followed it at her +father’s house. Lord Quantock’s seat was a fine +old mansion standing in its own park, and there were plenty of +opportunities for husband and wife either to avoid each other, or +to get reconciled if they were so minded, which one of them was +at least. Captain Northbrook was not present at the reading +of the will. She came to him afterward, and found him +packing up his papers, intending to start next morning, now that +he had seen her through the turmoil occasioned by her +father’s death.</p> +<p>‘He has left me everything that he could!’ she +said to her husband. ‘James, will you forgive me now, +and stay?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot stay.’</p> +<p>‘Why not?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot stay,’ he repeated.</p> +<p>‘But why?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t like you.’</p> +<p>He acted up to his word. When she came downstairs the +next morning she was told that he had gone.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>Laura bore her double bereavement as best she could. The +vast mansion in which she had hitherto lived, with all its +historic contents, had gone to her father’s successor in +the title; but her own was no unhandsome one. Around lay +the undulating park, studded with trees a dozen times her own +age; beyond it, the wood; beyond the wood, the farms. All +this fair and quiet scene was hers. She nevertheless +remained a lonely, repentant, depressed being, who would have +given the greater part of everything she possessed to ensure the +presence and affection of that husband whose very austerity and +phlegm—qualities that had formerly led to the alienation +between them—seemed now to be adorable features in his +character.</p> +<p>She hoped and hoped again, but all to no purpose. +Captain Northbrook did not alter his mind and return. He +was quite a different sort of man from one who altered his mind; +that she was at last despairingly forced to admit. And then +she left off hoping, and settled down to a mechanical routine of +existence which in some measure dulled her grief; but at the +expense of all her natural animation and the sprightly wilfulness +which had once charmed those who knew her, though it was perhaps +all the while a factor in the production of her unhappiness.</p> +<p>To say that her beauty quite departed as the years rolled on +would be to overstate the truth. Time is not a merciful +master, as we all know, and he was not likely to act +exceptionally in the case of a woman who had mental troubles to +bear in addition to the ordinary weight of years. Be this +as it may, eleven other winters came and went, and Laura +Northbrook remained the lonely mistress of house and lands +without once hearing of her husband. Every probability +seemed to favour the assumption that he had died in some foreign +land; and offers for her hand were not few as the probability +verged on certainty with the long lapse of time. But the +idea of remarriage seemed never to have entered her head for a +moment. Whether she continued to hope even now for his +return could not be distinctly ascertained; at all events she +lived a life unmodified in the slightest degree from that of the +first six months of his absence.</p> +<p>This twelfth year of Laura’s loneliness, and the +thirtieth of her life drew on apace, and the season approached +that had seen the unhappy adventure for which she so long had +suffered. Christmas promised to be rather wet than cold, +and the trees on the outskirts of Laura’s estate dripped +monotonously from day to day upon the turnpike-road which +bordered them. On an afternoon in this week between three +and four o’clock a hired fly might have been seen driving +along the highway at this point, and on reaching the top of the +hill it stopped. A gentleman of middle age alighted from +the vehicle.</p> +<p>‘You need drive no farther,’ he said to the +coachman. ‘The rain seems to have nearly +ceased. I’ll stroll a little way, and return on foot +to the inn by dinner-time.’</p> +<p>The flyman touched his hat, turned the horse, and drove back +as directed. When he was out of sight, the gentleman walked +on, but he had not gone far before the rain again came down +pitilessly, though of this the pedestrian took little heed, going +leisurely onward till he reached Laura’s park gate, which +he passed through. The clouds were thick and the days were +short, so that by the time he stood in front of the mansion it +was dark. In addition to this his appearance, which on +alighting from the carriage had been untarnished, partook now of +the character of a drenched wayfarer not too well blessed with +this world’s goods. He halted for no more than a +moment at the front entrance, and going round to the +servants’ quarter, as if he had a preconceived purpose in +so doing, there rang the bell. When a page came to him he +inquired if they would kindly allow him to dry himself by the +kitchen fire.</p> +<p>The page retired, and after a murmured colloquy returned with +the cook, who informed the wet and muddy man that though it was +not her custom to admit strangers, she should have no particular +objection to his drying himself; the night being so damp and +gloomy. Therefore the wayfarer entered and sat down by the +fire.</p> +<p>‘The owner of this house is a very rich gentleman, no +doubt?’ he asked, as he watched the meat turning on the +spit.</p> +<p>‘’Tis not a gentleman, but a lady,’ said the +cook.</p> +<p>‘A widow, I presume?’</p> +<p>‘A sort of widow. Poor soul, her husband is gone +abroad, and has never been heard of for many years.’</p> +<p>‘She sees plenty of company, no doubt, to make up for +his absence?’</p> +<p>‘No, indeed—hardly a soul. Service here is +as bad as being in a nunnery.’</p> +<p>In short, the wayfarer, who had at first been so coldly +received, contrived by his frank and engaging manner to draw the +ladies of the kitchen into a most confidential conversation, in +which Laura’s history was minutely detailed, from the day +of her husband’s departure to the present. The +salient feature in all their discourse was her unflagging +devotion to his memory.</p> +<p>Having apparently learned all that he wanted to +know—among other things that she was at this moment, as +always, alone—the traveller said he was quite dry; and +thanking the servants for their kindness, departed as he had +come. On emerging into the darkness he did not, however, go +down the avenue by which he had arrived. He simply walked +round to the front door. There he rang, and the door was +opened to him by a man-servant whom he had not seen during his +sojourn at the other end of the house.</p> +<p>In answer to the servant’s inquiry for his name, he said +ceremoniously, ‘Will you tell The Honourable Mrs. +Northbrook that the man she nursed many years ago, after a +frightful accident, has called to thank her?’</p> +<p>The footman retreated, and it was rather a long time before +any further signs of attention were apparent. Then he was +shown into the drawing-room, and the door closed behind him.</p> +<p>On the couch was Laura, trembling and pale. She parted +her lips and held out her hands to him, but could not +speak. But he did not require speech, and in a moment they +were in each other’s arms.</p> +<p>Strange news circulated through that mansion and the +neighbouring town on the next and following days. But the +world has a way of getting used to things, and the intelligence +of the return of The Honourable Mrs. Northbrook’s +long-absent husband was soon received with comparative calm.</p> +<p>A few days more brought Christmas, and the forlorn home of +Laura Northbrook blazed from basement to attic with light and +cheerfulness. Not that the house was overcrowded with +visitors, but many were present, and the apathy of a dozen years +came at length to an end. The animation which set in thus +at the close of the old year did not diminish on the arrival of +the new; and by the time its twelve months had likewise run the +course of its predecessors, a son had been added to the dwindled +line of the Northbrook family.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>At the conclusion of this narrative the Spark was thanked, +with a manner of some surprise, for nobody had credited him with +a taste for tale-telling. Though it had been resolved that +this story should be the last, a few of the weather-bound +listeners were for sitting on into the small hours over their +pipes and glasses, and raking up yet more episodes of family +history. But the majority murmured reasons for soon getting +to their lodgings.</p> +<p>It was quite dark without, except in the immediate +neighbourhood of the feeble street-lamps, and before a few +shop-windows which had been hardily kept open in spite of the +obvious unlikelihood of any chance customer traversing the muddy +thoroughfares at that hour.</p> +<p>By one, by two, and by three the benighted members of the +Field-Club rose from their seats, shook hands, made appointments, +and dropped away to their respective quarters, free or hired, +hoping for a fair morrow. It would probably be not until +the next summer meeting, months away in the future, that the easy +intercourse which now existed between them all would repeat +itself. The crimson maltster, for instance, knew that on +the following market-day his friends the President, the Rural +Dean, and the bookworm would pass him in the street, if they met +him, with the barest nod of civility, the President and the +Colonel for social reasons, the bookworm for intellectual +reasons, and the Rural Dean for moral ones, the latter being a +staunch teetotaller, dead against John Barleycorn. The +sentimental member knew that when, on his rambles, he met his +friend the bookworm with a pocket-copy of something or other +under his nose, the latter would not love his companionship as he +had done to-day; and the President, the aristocrat, and the +farmer knew that affairs political, sporting, domestic, or +agricultural would exclude for a long time all rumination on the +characters of dames gone to dust for scores of years, however +beautiful and noble they may have been in their day.</p> +<p>The last member at length departed, the attendant at the +museum lowered the fire, the curator locked up the rooms, and +soon there was only a single pirouetting flame on the top of a +single coal to make the bones of the ichthyosaurus seem to leap, +the stuffed birds to wink, and to draw a smile from the varnished +skulls of Vespasian’s soldiery.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GROUP OF NOBLE DAMES***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3049-h.htm or 3049-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/4/3049 + + + +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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