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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7895-0.txt b/7895-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..08ff6ae --- /dev/null +++ b/7895-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18022 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Terrible Temptation, by Charles Reade + +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 Terrible Temptation + A Story of To-Day + +Author: Charles Reade + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7895] +Posting Date: July 22, 2009 +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk + + + + + +A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION + +A STORY OF TO-DAY + + +By Charles Reade + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, London. + +A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow on the broad +mantel-piece, and made himself agreeable to a young lady, seated a +little way off, playing at work. + +To the ear he was only conversing, but his eyes dwelt on her with +loving admiration all the time. Her posture was favorable to this +furtive inspection, for she leaned her fair head over her work with a +pretty, modest, demure air, that seemed to say, “I suspect I am being +admired: I will not look to see: I might have to check it.” + +The gentleman's features were ordinary, except his brow--that had power +in it--but he had the beauty of color; his sunburned features glowed +with health, and his eye was bright. On the whole, rather good-looking +when he smiled, but ugly when he frowned; for his frown was a scowl, +and betrayed a remarkable power of hating. + +Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious masses of dark red +hair, and a dazzling white neck to set it off; large, dove-like eyes, +and a blooming oval face, which would have been classical if her lips +had been thin and finely chiseled; but here came in her Anglo-Saxon +breed, and spared society a Minerva by giving her two full and rosy +lips. They made a smallish mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide when +they smiled, and ravished the beholder with long, even rows of dazzling +white teeth. + +Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all commanding. There +are people whose very bodies express character; and this tall, supple, +graceful frame of Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did her +gestures. She would take up or put down her own scissors half timidly, +and look around before threading her needle, as if to see whether any +soul objected. Her favorite word was “May I?” with a stress on the +“May,” and she used it where most girls would say “I will,” or nothing, +and do it. + +Mr. Richard Bassett was in love with her, and also conscious that her +fifteen thousand pounds would be a fine addition to his present income, +which was small, though his distant expectations were great. As he had +known her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable than +inflammable, he had the prudence to proceed by degrees; and that is +why, though his eyes gloated on her, he merely regaled her with the +gossip of the day, not worth recording here. But when he had actually +taken his hat to go, Bella Bruce put him a question that had been on +her mind the whole time, for which reason she had reserved it to the +very last moment. + +“Is Sir Charles Bassett in town?” said she, mighty carelessly, but +bending a little lower over her embroidery. + +“Don't know,” said Richard Bassett, with such a sudden brevity and +asperity that Miss Bruce looked up and opened her lovely eyes. Mr. +Richard Bassett replied to this mute inquiry, “We don't speak.” Then, +after a pause, “He has robbed me of my inheritance.” + +“Oh, Mr. Bassett!” + +“Yes, Miss Bruce, the Bassett and Huntercombe estates were mine by +right of birth. My father was the eldest son, and they were entailed on +him. But Sir Charles's father persuaded my old, doting grandfather to +cut off the entail, and settle the estates on him and his heirs; and so +they robbed me of every acre they could. Luckily my little estate of +Highmore was settled on my mother and her issue too tight for the +villains to undo.” + +These harsh expressions, applied to his own kin, and the abruptness and +heat they were uttered with, surprised and repelled his gentle +listener. She shrank a little away from him. He observed it. She +replied not to his words, but to her own thought: + +“But, after all, it does seem hard.” She added, with a little fervor, +“But it wasn't poor Sir Charles's doing, after all.” + +“He is content to reap the benefit,” said Richard Bassett, sternly. + +Then, finding he was making a sorry impression, he tried to get away +from the subject. I say tried, for till a man can double like a hare he +will never get away from his hobby. “Excuse me,” said he; “I ought +never to speak about it. Let us talk of something else. You cannot +enter into my feelings; it makes my blood boil. Oh, Miss Bruce! you +can't conceive what a disinherited man feels--and I live at the very +door: his old trees, that ought to be mine, fling their shadows over my +little flower beds; the sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look down on +my cottage; his acres of lawn run up to my little garden, and nothing +but a ha-ha between us.” + +“It _is_ hard,” said Miss Bruce, composedly; not that she entered into +a hardship of this vulgar sort, but it was her nature to soothe and +please people. + +“Hard!” cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even this faint sympathy; +“it would be unendurable but for one thing--I shall have my own some +day.” + +“I am glad of that,” said the lady; “but how?” + +“By outliving the wrongful heir.” + +Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of men's passions. +“Oh, Mr. Bassett!” said she--and there was something pure and holy in +the look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuous +speaker--“pray do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. And +remember life and death are not in our hands. Besides--” + +“Well?”' + +“Sir Charles might--” + +“Well?” + +“Might he not--marry--and have children?” This with more hesitation and +a deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary. + +“Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends. +Charles is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton--fast at Oxford--fast +in London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three years +younger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man. +Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they +are mine--” + +“Sir Charles Bassett!” trumpeted a servant at the door; and then +waited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught +blushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another. + +“Wait a moment,” said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring what +Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she +said, hurriedly: “You should not blame him for the faults of others. +There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am little +entitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends. He is +very good, I assure you, and very nice. Let me reconcile you two. _May_ +I?” + +This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed--if I +may be permitted--in a way to dissolve a bear. + +But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is placable; it was a +man with a hobby grievance; so he replied in character: + +“That is impossible so long as he keeps me out of my own.” He had the +grace, however, to add, half sullenly, “Excuse me; I feel I have been +too vehement.” + +Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly: + +“Oh, never mind _that;_ it was very natural.--I am at home, then,” said +she to the servant. + +Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and said, with no +little agitation, “I was not aware he visits you. One word--don't let +his ill-gotten acres make you quite forget the disinherited one.” And +so he left her, with an imploring look. + +She felt red with all this, so she slipped out at another door, to cool +her cheeks and imprison a stray curl for Sir Charles. + +He strolled into the empty room, with the easy, languid air of fashion. +His features were well cut, and had some nobility; but his sickly +complexion and the lines under his eyes told a tale of dissipation. He +appeared ten years older than he was, and thoroughly _blase._ + +Yet when Miss Bruce entered the room with a smile and a little blush, +he brightened up and looked handsome, and greeted her with momentary +warmth. + +After the usual inquiries she asked him if he had met any body. + +“Where?” + +“Here; just now.” + +“No.” + +“What, nobody at all?” + +“Only my sulky cousin; I don't call him anybody,” drawled Sir Charles, +who was now relapsing into his normal condition of semi-apathy. + +“Oh,” said Miss Bruce gayly, “you must expect him to be a little cross. +It is not so very nice to be disinherited, let me tell you.” + +“And who has disinherited the fellow?” + +“I forget; but you disinherited him among you. Never mind; it can't be +helped now. When did you come back to town? I didn't see you at Lady +d'Arcy's ball, did I?” + +“You did not, unfortunately for me; but you would if I had known you +were to be there. But about Richard: he may tell you what he likes, but +he was not disinherited; he was bought out. The fact is, his father was +uncommonly fast. My grandfather paid his debts again and again; but at +last the old gentleman found he was dealing with the Jews for his +reversion. Then there was an awful row. It ended in my grandfather +outbidding the Jews. He bought the reversion of his estate from his own +son for a large sum of money (he had to raise it by mortgages); then +they cut off the entail between them, and he entailed the mortgaged +estate on his other son, and his grandson (that was me), and on my +heir-at-law. Richard's father squandered his thirty thousand pounds +before he died; my father husbanded the estates, got into Parliament, +and they put a tail to his name.” + +Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a languid +composure that contrasted deliciously with Richard's heat in telling +the story his way (to be sure, Sir Charles had got Huntercombe and +Bassett, and it is easier to be philosophical on the right side of the +boundary hedge), and wound up with a sort of corollary: “Dick Bassett +suffers by his father's vices, and I profit by mine's virtues. Where's +the injustice?” + +“Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the better.” + +Sir Charles demurred. “Oh, I don't want to quarrel with the fellow: but +he is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery estate, all +in broken patches. He shoots my pheasants in the unfairest way.” Here +the landed proprietor showed real irritation, but only for a moment. He +concluded calmly, “The fact is, he is not quite a gentleman. Fancy his +coming and whining to you about our family affairs, and then telling +you a falsehood!” + +“No, no; he did not mean. It was his way of looking at things. You can +afford to forgive him.” + +“Yes, but not if he sets you against me.” + +“But he cannot do that. The more any one was to speak against you, the +more I--of course.” + +This admission fired Sir Charles; he drew nearer, and, thanks to his +cousin's interference, spoke the language of love more warmly and +directly than he had ever done before. + +The lady blushed, and defended herself feebly. Sir Charles grew warmer, +and at last elicited from her a timid but tender avowal, that made him +supremely happy. + +When he left her this brief ecstasy was succeeded by regrets on account +of the years he had wasted in follies and intrigues. + +He smoked five cigars, and pondered the difference between the pure +creature who now honored him with her virgin affections and beauties of +a different character who had played their parts in his luxurious life. + +After profound deliberation he sent for his solicitor. They lighted the +inevitable cigars, and the following observations struggled feebly out +along with the smoke. + +“Mr. Oldfield, I'm going to be married.” + +“Glad to hear it, Sir Charles.” (Vision of settlements.) “It is a high +time you were.” (Puff-puff.) + +“Want your advice and assistance first.” + +“Certainly.” + +“Must put down my pony-carriage now, you know.” + +“A very proper retrenchment; but you can do that without my assistance.” + +“There would be sure to be a row if I did. I dare say there will be as +it is. At any rate, I want to do the thing like a gentleman.” + +“Send 'em to Tattersall's.” (Puff.) + +“And the girl that drives them in the park, and draws all the duchesses +and countesses at her tail--am I to send her to Tattersall's?” (Puff.) + +“Oh, it is _her_ you want to put down, then?” + +“Why, of course.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SIR CHARLES and Mr. Oldfield settled that lady's retiring pension, and +Mr. Oldfield took the memoranda home, with instructions to prepare a +draft deed for Miss Somerset's approval. + +Meantime Sir Charles visited Miss Bruce every day. Her affections for +him grew visibly, for being engaged gave her the courage to love. + +Mr. Bassett called pretty often; but one day he met Sir Charles on the +stairs, and scowled. + +That scowl cost him dear, for Sir Charles thereupon represented to +Bella that a man with a grievance is a bore to the very eye, and asked +her to receive no more visits from his scowling cousin. The lady +smiled, and said, with soft complacency, “I obey.” + +Sir Charles's gallantry was shocked. + +“No, don't say 'obey.' It is a little favor I ventured to ask.” + +“It is like you to ask what you have a right to command. I shall be out +to him in future, and to every one who is disagreeable to you. What! +does 'obey' frighten you from my lips? To me it is the sweetest in the +language. Oh, please let me 'obey' you! _May_ I?” + +Upon this, as vanity is seldom out of call, Sir Charles swelled like a +turkey-cock, and loftily consented to indulge Bella Bruce's strange +propensity. From that hour she was never at home to Mr. Bassett. + +He began to suspect; and one day, after he had been kept out with the +loud, stolid “Not at home” of practiced mendacity, he watched, and saw +Sir Charles admitted. + +He divined it all in a moment, and turned to wormwood. What! was he to +be robbed of the lady he loved--and her fifteen thousand pounds--by the +very man who had robbed him of his ancestral fields? He dwelt on the +double grievance till it nearly frenzied him. But he could do nothing: +it was his fate. His only hope was that Sir Charles, the arrant flirt, +would desert this beauty after a time, as he had the others. + +But one afternoon, in the smoking-room of his club, a gentleman said to +him, “So your cousin Charles is engaged to the Yorkshire beauty, Bell +Bruce?” + +“He is flirting with her, I believe,” said Richard. + +“No, no,” said the other; “they are engaged. I know it for a fact. They +are to be married next month.” + +Mr. Richard Bassett digested this fresh pill in moody silence, while +the gentlemen of the club discussed the engagement with easy levity. +They soon passed to a topic of wider interest, viz., who was to succeed +Sir Charles with La Somerset. Bassett began to listen attentively, and +learned for the first time Sir Charles Bassett's connection with that +lady, and also that she was a woman of a daring nature and furious +temper. At first he was merely surprised; but soon hatred and jealousy +whispered in his ear that with these materials it must be possible to +wound those who had wounded him. + +Mr. Marsh, a young gentleman with a receding chin, and a mustache +between hay and straw, had taken great care to let them all know he was +acquainted with Miss Somerset. So Richard got Marsh alone, and sounded +him. Could he call upon the lady without ceremony? + +“You won't get in. Her street door is jolly well guarded, I can tell +you.” + +“I am very curious to see her in her own house.” + +“So are a good many fellows.” + +“Could you not give me an introduction?” + +Marsh shook his head sapiently for a considerable time, and with all +this shaking, as it appeared, out fell words of wisdom. “Don't see it. +I'm awfully spooney on her myself; and, you know, when a fellow +introduces another fellow, that fellow always cuts the other out.” + Then, descending from the words of the wise and their dark sayings to a +petty but pertinent fact, he added, _“Besides,_ I'm only let in myself +about once in five times.” + +“She gives herself wonderful airs, it seems,” said Bassett, rather +bitterly. + +Marsh fired up. “So would any woman that was as beautiful, and as witty +and as much run after as she is. Why she is a leader of fashion. Look +at all the ladies following her round the park. They used to drive on +the north side of the Serpentine. She just held up her finger, and now +they have cut the Serpentine, and followed her to the south drive.” + +“Oh, indeed!” said Bassett. “Ah then this is a great lady; a poor +country squire must not venture into her august presence.” He turned +savagely on his heel, and Marsh went and made sickly mirth at his +expense. + +By this means the matter soon came to the ears of old Mr. Woodgate, the +father of that club, and a genial gossip. He got hold of Bassett in the +dinner-room and examined him. “So you want an introduction to La +Somerset, and Marsh refuses--Marsh, hitherto celebrated for his weak +head rather than his hard heart?” + +Richard Bassett nodded rather sullenly. He had not bargained for this +rapid publicity. + +The venerable chief resumed: “We all consider Marsh's conduct +unclubable and a thing to be combined against. Wanted--an +Anti-dog-in-the-manger League. I'll introduce you to the Somerset.” + +“What! do _you_ visit her?” asked Bassett, in some astonishment. + +The old gentleman held up his hands in droll disclaimer, and chuckled +merrily “No, no; I enjoy from the shore the disasters of my youthful +friends--that sacred pleasure is left me. Do you see that elegant +creature with the little auburn beard and mustache, waiting sweetly for +his dinner. He launched the Somerset.” + +“Launched her?” + +“Yes; but for him she might have wasted her time breaking hearts and +slapping faces in some country village. He it was set her devastating +society; and with his aid she shall devastate you.--Vandeleur, will you +join Bassett and me?” + +Mr. Vandeleur, with ready grace, said he should be delighted, and they +dined together accordingly. + +Mr. Vandeleur, six feet high, lank, but graceful as a panther, and the +pink of politeness, was, beneath his varnish, one of the wildest young +men in London--gambler, horse-racer, libertine, what not?--but in +society charming, and his manners singularly elegant and winning. He +never obtruded his vices in good company; in fact, you might dine with +him all your life and not detect him. The young serpent was torpid in +wine; but he came out, a bit at a time, in the sunshine of Cigar. + +After a brisk conversation on current topics, the venerable chief told +him plainly they were both curious to know the history of Miss +Somerset, and he must tell it them. + +“Oh, with pleasure,” said the obliging youth. “Let us go into the +smoking-room.” + + + +“Let--me--see. I picked her up by the sea-side. She promised well at +first. We put her on my chestnut mare, and she showed lots of courage, +so she soon learned to ride; but she kicked, even down there.” + +“Kicked!--whom?” + +“Kicked all round; I mean showed temper. And when she got to London, +and had ridden a few times in the park, and swallowed flattery, there +was no holding her. I stood her cheek for a good while, but at last I +told the servants they must not turn her out, but they could keep her +out. They sided with me for once. She had ridden over them, as well. +The first time she went out they bolted the doors, and handed her boxes +up the area steps.” + +“How did she take that?” + +“Easier than we expected. She said, 'Lucky for you beggars that I'm a +lady, or I'd break every d--d window in the house.'” + +This caused a laugh. It subsided. The historian resumed. + +“Next day she cooled, and wrote a letter.” + +“To you?” + +“No, to my groom. Would you like to see it? It is a curiosity.” + +He sent one of the club waiters for his servant, and his servant for +his desk, and produced the letter. + +“There!” said Vandeleur. “She looks like a queen, and steps like an +empress, and this is how she writes: + + +“'DEAR JORGE--i have got the sak, an' praps your turn nex. dear jorge +he alwaies promise me the grey oss, which now an oss is life an death +to me. If you was to ast him to lend me the grey he wouldn't refuse +you, + +“'Yours respecfully, + +“'RHODA SOMERSET.'” + + + +When the letter and the handwriting, which, unfortunately, I cannot +reproduce, had been duly studied and approved, Vandeleur continued-- + +“Now, you know, she had her good points, after all. If any creature was +ill, she'd sit up all night and nurse them, and she used to go to +church on Sundays, and come back with the sting out of her; only then +she would preach to a fellow, and bore him. She is awfully fond of +preaching. Her dream is to jump on a first-rate hunter, and ride across +country, and preach to the villages. So, when George came grinning to +me with the letter, I told him to buy a new side-saddle for the gray, +and take her the lot, with my compliments. I had noticed a slight +spavin in his near foreleg. She rode him that very day in the park, all +alone, and made such a sensation that next day my gray was standing in +Lord Hailey's stables. But she rode Hailey, like my gray, with a long +spur, and he couldn't stand it. None of 'em could except Sir Charles +Bassett, and he doesn't play fair--never goes near her.” + +“And that gives him an unfair advantage over his fascinating +predecessors?” inquired the senior, slyly. + +“Of course it does,” said Vandeleur, stoutly. “You ask a girl to dine +at Richmond once a month, and keep out of her way all the rest of the +time, and give her lots of money--she will never quarrel with you.” + +“Profit by this information, young man,” said old Woodgate, severely; +“it comes too late for me. In my day there existed no sure method of +pleasing the fair. But now that is invented, along with everything +else. Richmond and--absence, equivalent to 'Richmond and victory!' Now, +Bassett, we have heard the truth from the fountain-head, and it is +rather serious. She swears, she kicks, she preaches. Do you still +desire an introduction? As for me, my manly spirit is beginning to +quake at Vandeleur's revelations, and some lines of Scott recur to my +Gothic memory-- + +“'From the chafed tiger rend his prey, Bar the fell dragon's blighting +way, But shun that lovely snare.”' + +Bassett replied, gravely, that he had no such motive as Mr. Woodgate +gave him credit for, but still desired the introduction. + +“With pleasure,” said Vandeleur; “but it will be no use to you. She +hates me like poison; says I have no heart. That is what all +ill-tempered women say.” + +Notwithstanding his misgivings the obliging youth called for writing +materials, and produced the following epistle-- + + + +“DEAR MISS SOMERSET--Mr. Richard Bassett, a cousin of Sir Charles, +wishes very much to be introduced to you, and has begged me to assist +in an object so laudable. I should hardly venture to present myself, +and, therefore, shall feel surprised as well as flattered if you will +receive Mr. Bassett on my introduction, and my assurance that he is a +respectable country gentleman, and bears no resemblance in character to + +“Yours faithfully, + +“ARTHUR VANDELEUR.” + + + +Next day Bassett called at Miss Somerset's house in May Fair, and +delivered his introduction. + +He was admitted after a short delay and entered the lady's boudoir. It +was Luxury's nest. The walls were rose colored satin, padded and +puckered; the voluminous curtains were pale satin, with floods and +billows of real lace; the chairs embroidered, the tables all buhl and +ormolu, and the sofas felt like little seas. The lady herself, in a +delightful peignoir, sat nestled cozily in a sort of ottoman with arms. +Her finely formed hand, clogged with brilliants, was just conveying +brandy and soda-water to a very handsome mouth when Richard Bassett +entered. + +She raised herself superbly, but without leaving her seat, and just +looked at a chair in a way that seemed to say, “I permit you to sit +down;” and that done, she carried the glass to her lips with the same +admirable firmness of hand she showed in driving. Her lofty manner, +coupled with her beautiful but rather haughty features, smacked of +imperial origin. Yet she was the writer to “jorge,” and four years ago +a shrimp-girl, running into the sea with legs as brown as a berry. + +So swiftly does merit rise in this world which, nevertheless, some +morose folk pretend is a wicked one. + +I ought to explain, however, that this haughty reception was partly +caused by a breach of propriety. Vandeleur ought first to have written +to her and asked permission to present Richard Bassett. He had no +business to send the man and the introduction together. This law a +Parliament of Sirens had passed, and the slightest breach of it was a +bitter offense Equilibrium governs the world. These ladies were bound +to be overstrict in something or other, being just a little lax in +certain things where other ladies are strict. + +Now Bassett had pondered well what he should say, but he was +disconcerted by her superb presence and demeanor and her large gray +eyes, that rested steadily upon his face. + +However, he began to murmur mellifluously. Said he had often seen her +in public, and admired her, and desired to make her acquaintance, etc., +etc. + +“Then why did you not ask Sir Charles to bring you here?” said Miss +Somerset, abruptly, and searching him with her eyes, that were not to +say bold, but singularly brave, and examiners pointblank. + +“I am not on good terms with Sir Charles. He holds the estates that +ought to be mine; and now he has robbed me of my love. He is the last +man in the world I would ask a favor of.” + +“You came here to abuse him behind his back, eh?” asked the lady with +undisguised contempt. + +Bassett winced, but kept his temper. “No, Miss Somerset; but you seem +to think I ought to have come to you through Sir Charles. I would not +enter your house if I did not feel sure I shall not meet him here.” + +Miss Somerset looked rather puzzled. “Sir Charles does not come here +every day, but he comes now and then, and he is always welcome.” + +“You surprise me.” + +“Thank you. Now some of my gentlemen friends think it is a wonder he +does not come every minute.” + +“You mistake me. What surprises me is that you are such good friends +under the circumstances.” + +“Circumstances! what circumstances?” + +“Oh, you know. You are in his confidence, I presume?”--this rather +satirically. So the lady answered, defiantly: + +“Yes, I am; he knows I can hold my tongue, so he tells me things he +tells nobody else.” + +“Then, if you are in his confidence, you know he is about to be +married.” + +“Married! Sir Charles married!” + +“In three weeks.” + +“It's a lie! You get out of my house this moment!” + +Mr. Bassett colored at this insult. He rose from his seat with some +little dignity, made her a low bow, and retired. But her blood was up: +she made a wonderful rush, sweeping down a chair with her dress as she +went, and caught him at the door, clutched him by the shoulder and half +dragged him back, and made him sit down again, while she stood opposite +him, with the knuckles of one hand resting on the table. + +“Now,” said she, panting, “you look me in the face and say that again.” + +“Excuse me; you punish me too severely for telling the truth.” + +“Well, I beg your pardon--there. Now tell me--this instant. Can't you +speak, man?” And her knuckles drummed the table. + +“He is to be married in three weeks.” + +“Oh! Who to?” + +“A young lady I love.” + +“Her name?” + +“Miss Arabella Bruce.” + +“Where does she live?” + +“Portman Square.” + +“I'll stop that marriage.” + +“How?” asked Richard, eagerly. + +“I don't know; that I'll think over. But he shall not marry +her--never!” + +Bassett sat and looked up with almost as much awe as complacency at the +fury he had evoked; for this woman was really at times a poetic +impersonation of that fiery passion she was so apt to indulge. She +stood before him, her cheek pale, her eyes glittering and roving +savagely, and her nostrils literally expanding, while her tall body +quivered with wrath, and her clinched knuckles pattered on the table. + +“He shall not marry her. I'll kill him first!” + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +RICHARD BASSETT eagerly offered his services to break off the obnoxious +match. But Miss Somerset was beginning to be mortified at having shown +so much passion before a stranger. + +“What have you to do with it?” said she, sharply. + +“Everything. I love Miss Bruce.” + +“Oh, yes; I forgot that. Anything else? There is, now. I see it in your +eye. What is it?” + + “Sir Charles's estates are mine by right, and they will return to my +line if he does not marry and have issue.” + +“Oh, I see. That is so like a man. It's always love, and something more +important, with you. Well, give me your address. I'll write if I want +you.” + +“Highly flattered,” said Bassett, ironically-wrote his address and left +her. + +Miss Somerset then sat down and wrote: + + + +“DEAR SIR CHARLES--please call here, I want to speak to you. + +yours respecfuly, + +“RHODA SOMERSET.” + + + +Sir Charles obeyed this missive, and the lady received him with a +gracious and smiling manner, all put on and catlike. She talked with +him of indifferent things for more than an hour, still watching to see +if he would tell her of his own accord. + +When she was quite sure he would not, she said, + +“Do you know there's a ridiculous report about that you are going to be +married?” + +“Indeed!” + +“They even tell her name--Miss Bruce. Do you know the girl?” + +“Yes.” + +“Is she pretty?” + +“Very.” + +“Modest?” + +“As an angel.” + +“And are you going to marry her?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then you are a villain.” + +“The deuce I am!” + +“You are, to abandon a woman who has sacrificed all for you.” + +Sir Charles looked puzzled, and then smiled; but was too polite to give +his thoughts vent. Nor was it necessary; Miss Somerset, whose brave +eyes never left the person she was speaking to, fired up at the smile +alone, and she burst into a torrent of remonstrance, not to say +vituperation. Sir Charles endeavored once or twice to stop it, but it +was not to be stopped; so at last he quietly took up his hat, to go. + +He was arrested at the door by a rustle and a fall. He turned round, +and there was Miss Somerset lying on her back, grinding her white teeth +and clutching the air. + +He ran to the bell and rang it violently, then knelt down and did his +best to keep her from hurting herself; but, as generally happens in +these cases, his interference made her more violent. He had hard work +to keep her from battering her head against the floor, and her arms +worked like windmills. + +Hearing the bell tugged so violently, a pretty page ran headlong into +the room--saw--and; without an instant's diminution of speed, described +a curve, and ran headlong out, screaming “Polly! Polly!” + +The next moment the housekeeper, an elderly woman, trotted in at the +door, saw her mistress's condition, and stood stock-still, calling, +“Polly,” but with the most perfect tranquillity the mind can conceive. + +In ran a strapping house-maid, with black eyes and brown arms, went +down on her knees, and said, firmly though respectfully, “Give her me, +sir.” + +She got behind her struggling mistress, pulled her up into her own lap, +and pinned her by the wrists with a vigorous grasp. + +The lady struggled, and ground her teeth audibly, and flung her arms +abroad. The maid applied all her rustic strength and harder muscle to +hold her within bounds. The four arms went to and fro in a magnificent +struggle, and neither could the maid hold the mistress still, nor the +mistress shake off the maid's grasp, nor strike anything to hurt +herself. + +Sir Charles, thrust out of the play looked on with pity and anxiety, +and the little page at the door--combining art and nature--stuck +stock-still in a military attitude, and blubbered aloud. + +As for the housekeeper, she remained in the middle of the room with +folded arms, and looked down on the struggle with a singular expression +of countenance. There was no agitation whatever, but a sort of +thoughtful examination, half cynical, half admiring. + +However, as soon as the boy's sobs reached her ear she wakened up, and +said, tenderly, “What is the child crying for? Run and get a basin of +water, and fling it all over her; that will bring her to in a minute.” + +The page departed swiftly on this benevolent errand. + +Then the lady gave a deep sigh, and ceased to struggle. + +Next she stared in all their faces, and seemed to return to +consciousness. + +Next she spoke, but very feebly. “Help me up,” she sighed. + +Sir Charles and Polly raised her, and now there was a marvelous change. +The vigorous vixen was utterly weak, and limp as a wet towel--a woman +of jelly. As such they handled her, and deposited her gingerly on the +sofa. + +Now the page ran in hastily with the water. Up jumps the poor lax +sufferer, with flashing eyes: “You dare come near me with it!” Then to +the female servants: “Call yourselves women, and water my lilac silk, +not two hours old?” Then to the housekeeper: “You old monster, you +wanted it for your Polly. Get out of my sight, _the lot!”_ + +Then, suddenly remembering how feeble she was, she sank instantly down, +and turned piteously and languidly to Sir Charles. “They eat my bread, +and rob me, and hate me,” said she, faintly. “I have but one friend on +earth.” She leaned tenderly toward Sir Charles as that friend; but +before she quite reached him she started back, her eyes filled with +sudden horror. “And he forsakes me!” she cried; and so turned away from +him despairingly, and began to cry bitterly, with head averted over the +sofa, and one hand hanging by her side for Sir Charles to take and +comfort her. He tried to take it. It resisted; and, under cover of that +little disturbance, the other hand dexterously whipped two pins out of +her hair. The long brown tresses--all her own--fell over her eyes and +down to her waist, and the picture of distressed beauty was complete. + +Even so did the women of antiquity conquer male pity--_“solutis +crinibus.”_ + +The females interchanged a meaning glance, and retired; then the boy +followed them with his basin, sore perplexed, but learning life in this +admirable school. + +Sir Charles then, with the utmost kindness, endeavored to reconcile the +weeping and disheveled fair to that separation which circumstances +rendered necessary. But she was inconsolable, and he left the house, +perplexed and grieved; not but what it gratified his vanity a little to +find himself beloved all in a moment, and the Somerset unvixened. He +could not help thinking how wide must be the circle of his charms, +which had won the affections of two beautiful women so opposite in +character as Bella Bruce and La Somerset. + +The passion of this latter seemed to grow. She wrote to him every day, +and begged him to call on her. + +She called on him--she who had never called on a man before. + +She raged with jealousy; she melted with grief. She played on him with +all a woman's artillery; and at last actually wrung from him what she +called a reprieve. + +Richard Bassett called on her, but she would not receive him; so then +he wrote to her, urging co-operation, and she replied, frankly, that +she took no interest in his affairs; but that she was devoted to Sir +Charles, and should keep him for herself. Vanity tempted her to add +that he (Sir Charles) was with her every day, and the wedding +postponed. + +This last seemed too good to be true, so Richard Bassett set his +servant to talk to the servants in Portman Square. He learned that the +wedding was now to be on the 15th of June, instead of the 31st of May. + +Convinced that this postponement was only a blind, and that the +marriage would never be, he breathed more freely at the news. + +But the fact is, although Sir Charles had yielded so far to dread of +scandal, he was ashamed of himself, and his shame became remorse when +he detected a furtive tear in the dove-like eyes of her he really loved +and esteemed. + +He went and told his trouble to Mr. Oldfield. “I am afraid she will do +something desperate,” he said. + +Mr. Oldfield heard him out, and then asked him had he told Miss +Somerset what he was going to settle on her. + +“Not I. She is not in a condition to be influenced by that, at +present.” + +“Let me try her. The draft is ready. I'll call on her to-morrow.” He +did call, and was told she did not know him. + +“You tell her I am a lawyer, and it is very much to her interest to see +me,” said Mr. Oldfield to the page. + +He was admitted, but not to a _tete-a-tete._ Polly was kept in the +room. The Somerset had peeped, and Oldfield was an old fellow, with +white hair; if he had been a young fellow, with black hair, she might +have thought that precaution less necessary. + + “First, madam,” said Oldfield, “I must beg you to accept my apologies +for not coming sooner. Press of business, etc.” + +“Why have you come at all? That is the question,” inquired the lady, +bluntly. + +“I bring the draft of a deed for your approval. Shall I read it to +you?” + +“Yes; if it is not very long.” He began to read it. The lady +interrupted him characteristically. + +“It's a beastly rigmarole. What does it mean--in three words?” + +“Sir Charles Bassett secures to Rhoda Somerset four hundred pounds a +year, while single; this is reduced to two hundred if you marry. The +deed further assigns to you, without reserve, the beneficial lease of +this house, and all the furniture and effects, plate, linen, wine, +etc.” + +“I see--a bribe.” + +“Nothing of the kind, madam. When Sir Charles instructed me to prepare +this deed he expected no opposition on your part to his marriage; but +he thought it due to him and to yourself to mark his esteem for you, +and his recollection of the pleasant hours he has spent in your +company.” + +Miss Somerset's eyes searched the lawyer's face. He stood the battery +unflinchingly. She altered her tone, and asked, politely and almost +respectfully, whether she might see that paper. + +Mr. Oldfield gave it her. She took it, and ran her eye over it; in +doing which, she raised it so that she could think behind it +unobserved. She handed it back at last, with the remark that Sir +Charles was a gentleman and had done the right thing. + +“He has; and you will do the right thing too, will you not?” + +“I don't know. I am just beginning to fall in love with him myself.” + +“Jealousy, madam, not love,” said the old lawyer. “Come, now! I see you +are a young lady of rare good sense; look the thing in the face: Sir +Charles is a landed gentleman; he must marry, and, have heirs. He is +over thirty, and his time has come. He has shown himself your friend; +why not be his? He has given you the means to marry a gentleman of +moderate income, or to marry beneath you, if you prefer it--” + +“And most of us do--” + +“Then why not make his path smooth? Why distress him with your tears +and remonstrances?” + +He continued in this strain for some time, appealing to her good sense +and her better feelings. + +When he had done she said, very quietly, “How about the ponies and my +brown mare? Are they down in the deed?” + +“I think not; but if you will do your part handsomely I'll guarantee +you shall have them.” + +“You are a good soul.” Then, after a pause, “Now just you tell me +exactly what you want me to do for all this.” + +Oldfield was pleased with this question. He said, “I wish you to +abstain from writing to Sir Charles, and him to visit you only once +more before his marriage, just to shake hands and part, with mutual +friendship and good wishes.” + +“You are right,” said she, softly; “best for us both, and only fair to +the girl.” Then, with sudden and eager curiosity, “Is she very pretty?” + +“I don't know.” + +“What, hasn't he told you?” + +“He says she is lovely, and every way adorable; but then he is in love. +The chances are she is not half so handsome as yourself.” + +“And yet he is in love with her?” + +“Over head and ears.” + +“I don't believe it. If he was really in love with one woman he +couldn't be just to another. _I_ couldn't. He'll be coming back to me +in a few months.” + +“God forbid!” + +“Thank you, old gentleman.” + +Mr. Oldfield began to stammer excuses. She interrupted him: “Oh, bother +all that; I like you none the worse for speaking your mind.” Then, +after a pause, “Now excuse me; but suppose Sir Charles should change +his mind, and never sign this paper?” + +“I pledge my professional credit.” + +“That is enough, sir; I see I can trust you. Well, then, I consent to +break off with Sir Charles, and only see him once more--as a friend. +Poor Sir Charles! I hope he will be happy” (she squeezed out a tear for +him)--“happier than I am. And when he does come he can sign the deed, +you know.” + +Mr. Oldfield left her, and joined Sir Charles at Long's, as had been +previously agreed. + +“It is all right, Sir Charles; she is a sensible girl, and will give +you no further trouble.” + +“How did you get over the hysterics?” + +“We dispensed with them. She saw at once it was to be business, not +sentiment. You are to pay her one more visit, to sign, and part +friends. If you please, I'll make that appointment with both parties, +as soon as the deed is engrossed. Oh, by-the-by, she did shed a tear or +two, but she dried them to ask me for the ponies and the brown mare.” + +Sir Charles's vanity was mortified. But he laughed it off, and said she +should have them, of course. + +So now his mind was at ease, his conscience was at rest, and he could +give his whole time where he had given his heart. + +Richard Bassett learned, through his servant, that the wedding-dresses +were ordered. He called on Miss Somerset. She was out. + +Polly opened the door and gave him a look of admiration--due to his +fresh color--that encouraged him to try and enlist her in his service. + +He questioned her, and she told him in a general way how matters were +going. “But,” said she, “why not come and talk to her yourself? Ten to +one but she tells you. She is pretty outspoken.” + +“My pretty dear,” said Richard, “she never will receive me.” + +“Oh, but I'll make her!” said Polly. + +And she did exert her influence as follows: + +“Lookee here, the cousin's a-coming to-morrow and I've been and +promised he should see you.” + +“What did you do that for?” + +“Why, he's a well-looking chap, and a beautiful color, fresh from the +country, like me. And he's a gentleman, and got an estate belike; and +why not put yourn to hisn, and so marry him and be a lady? You might +have me about ye all the same, till my turn comes.” + +“No, no,” said Rhoda; “that's not the man for me. If ever I marry, it +must be one of my own sort, or else a fool, like Marsh, that I can make +a slave of.” + +“Well, any way, you must see him, not to make a fool of _me,_ for I did +promise him; which, now I think on't, 'twas very good of me, for I +could find in my heart to ask him down into the kitchen, instead of +bringing him upstairs to you.” + +All this ended, somehow, in Mr. Bassett's being admitted. + +To his anxious inquiry how matters stood, she replied coolly that Sir +Charles and herself were parted by mutual consent. + +“What! after all your protestations?” said Bassett, bitterly. + +But Miss Somerset was not in an irascible humor just then. She shrugged +her shoulders, and said: + +“Yes, I remember I put myself in a passion, and said some ridiculous +things. But one can't be always a fool. I have come to my senses. This +sort of thing always does end, you know. Most of them part enemies, but +he and I part friends and well-wishers.” + +“And you throw _me_ over as if I was nobody,” said Richard, white with +anger. + +“Why, what are you to me?” said the Somerset. “Oh, I see. You thought +to make a cat's-paw of me. Well, you won't, then.” + +“In other words, you have been bought off.” + +“No, I have not. I am not to be bought by anybody--and I am not to be +insulted by you, you ruffian! How dare you come here and affront a lady +in her own house--a lady whose shoestrings your betters are ready to +tie, you brute? If you want to be a landed proprietor, go and marry +some ugly old hag that's got it, and no eyesight left to see you're no +gentleman. Sir Charles's land you'll never have; a better man has got +it, and means to keep it for him and his. Here, Polly! Polly! Polly! +take this man down to the kitchen, and teach him manners if you can: he +is not fit for my drawing-room, by a long chalk.” + +Polly arrived in time to see the flashing eyes, the swelling veins, and +to hear the fair orator's peroration. + +“What, you are in your tantrums again!” said she. “Come along, sir. +Needs must when the devil drives. You'll break a blood-vessel some day, +my lady, like your father afore ye.” + +And with this homely suggestion, which always sobered Miss Somerset, +and, indeed, frightened her out of her wits, she withdrew the offender. +She did not take him into the kitchen, but into the dining-room, and +there he had a long talk with her, and gave her a sovereign. + +She promised to inform him if anything important should occur. + +He went away, pondering and scowling deeply. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +SIR CHARLES BASSETT was now living in Elysium. Never was rake more +thoroughly transformed. Every day he sat for hours at the feet of Bella +Bruce, admiring her soft, feminine ways and virgin modesty even more +than her beauty. And her visible blush whenever he appeared suddenly, +and the soft commotion and yielding in her lovely frame whenever he +drew near, betrayed his magnetic influence, and told all but the blind +she adored him. + +She would decline all invitations to dine with him and her father--a +strong-minded old admiral, whose authority was unbounded, only, to +Bella's regret, very rarely exerted. Nothing would have pleased her +more than to be forbidden this and commanded that; but no! the admiral +was a lion with an enormous paw, only he could not be got to put it +into every pie. + +In this charming society the hours glided, and the wedding-day drew +close. So deeply and sincerely was Sir Charles in love that when Mr. +Oldfield's letter came, appointing the day and hour to sign Miss +Somerset's deed, he was unwilling to go, and wrote back to ask if the +deed could not be sent to his house. + +Mr. Oldfield replied that the parties to the deed and the witnesses +must meet, and it would be unadvisable, for several reasons, to +irritate the lady's susceptibility previous to signature; the +appointment having been made at her house, it had better remain so. + +That day soon came. + +Sir Charles, being due in Mayfair at 2 P.M., compensated himself for +the less agreeable business to come by going earlier than usual to +Portman Square. By this means he caught Miss Bruce and two other young +ladies inspecting bridal dresses. Bella blushed and looked ashamed, +and, to the surprise of her friends, sent the dresses away, and set +herself to talk rationally with Sir Charles--as rationally as lovers +can. + +The ladies took the cue, and retired in disgust. + +Sir Charles apologized. + +“This is too bad of me. I come at an unheard-of hour, and frighten away +your fair friends; but the fact is, I have an appointment at two, and I +don't know how long they will keep me, so I thought I would make sure +of two happy hours at the least.” + +And delightful hours they were. Bella Bruce, excited by this little +surprise, leaned softly on his shoulder, and prattled her maiden love +like some warbling fountain. + +Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind--three months +ago he could not--and they compared pretty little plans of wedded life, +and had small differences, and ended by agreeing. + +Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, they would not have +a single quarrel, like other people; their love should never lose its +delicate bloom; second, they would grow old together, and die the same +day--the same minute if possible; if not, they must be content with the +same day, but, on that, inexorable. + +But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to obey t'other. + +Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and therefore more +fit to conduct the pair. + +Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this reason furiously. +He defended it. He admitted, with exemplary candor, that he was good +now--“awfully good.” But he assured her that he had been anything but +good until he knew her; now she had been always good; therefore, he +argued, as his goodness came originally from her, for her to obey him +would be a little too much like the moon commanding the sun. + +“That is too ingenious for me, Charles,” said Bella. “And, for shame! +Nobody was ever so good as you are. I look up to you and--Now I could +stop your mouth in a minute. I have only to remind you that I shall +swear at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear to obey me. But +I will not crush you under the Prayer-book--no, dearest; but, indeed, +to obey is a want of my nature, and I marry you to supply that want: +and that's a story, for I marry you because I love and honor and +worship and adore you to distraction, my own--own--own!” With this she +flung herself passionately, yet modestly on his shoulder, and, being +there, murmured, coaxingly, “You will let me obey you, Charles?” + +Thereupon Sir Charles felt highly gelatinous, and lost, for the moment, +all power of resistance or argument. + +“Ah, you will; and then you will remind me of my dear mother. She knew +how to command; but as for poor dear papa, he is very disappointing. In +selecting an admiral for my parent, I made sure of being ordered about. +Instead of that--now I'll show you--there he is in the next room, +inventing a new system of signals, poor dear--” + +She threw the folding-doors open. + +“Papa dear, shall I ask Charles to dinner to-day?” + +“As you please, my dear.” + +“Do you think I had better walk or ride this afternoon?” + +“Whichever you prefer.” + +“There,” said Bella, “I told you so. That is always the way. Papa dear, +you used always to be firing guns at sea. Do, please, fire one in this +house--just one--before I leave it, and make the very windows rattle.” + +“I beg your pardon, Bella; I never wasted powder at sea. If the convoy +sailed well and steered right I never barked at them. You are a modest, +sensible girl, and have always steered a good course. Why should I +hoist a petticoat and play the small tyrant? Wait till I see you going +to do something wrong or silly.” + +“Ah! then you _would_ fire a gun, papa?” + +“Ay, a broadside.” + +“Well, that is something,” said Bella, as she closed the door softly. + +“No, no; it amounts to just nothing,” said Sir Charles; “for you never +will do anything wrong or silly. I'll accommodate you. I have thought +of a way. I shall give you some blank cards; you shall write on them, +'I think I should like to do so and so.' You shall be careless, and +leave them about; I'll find them, and bluster, and say, 'I command you +to do so and so, Bella Bassett'--the very thing on the card, you know.” + +Bella colored to the brow with pleasure and modesty. After a pause she +said: “How sweet! The worst of it is, I should get my own way. Now what +I want is to submit my will to yours. A gentle tyrant--that is what you +must be to Bella Bassett. Oh, you sweet, sweet, for calling me that!” + +These projects were interrupted by a servant announcing luncheon. This +made Sir Charles look hastily at his watch, and he found it was past +two o'clock. + +“How time flies in this house!” said he. “I must go, dearest; I am +behind my appointment already. What do you do this afternoon?” + +“Whatever you please, my own.” + +“I could get away by four.” + +“Then I will stay at home for you.” + +He left her reluctantly, and she followed him to the head of the +stairs, and hung over the balusters as if she would like to fly after +him. + +He turned at the street-door, saw that radiant and gentle face beaming +after him, and they kissed hands to each other by one impulse, as if +they were parting for ever so long. + +He had gone scarcely half an hour when a letter, addressed to her, was +left at the door by a private messenger. + +“Any answer?” inquired the servant. + +“No.” + +The letter was sent up, and delivered to her on a silver salver. + +She opened it; it was a thing new to her in her young life--an +anonymous letter. + + + +“MISS BRUCE--I am almost a stranger to you, but I know your character +from others, and cannot bear to see you abused. You are said to be +about to marry Sir Charles Bassett. I think you can hardly be aware +that he is connected with a lady of doubtful repute, called Somerset, +and neither your beauty nor your virtue has prevailed to detach him +from that connection. + +“If, on engaging himself to you, he had abandoned her, I should not +have said a word. But the truth is, he visits her constantly, and I +blush to say that when he leaves you this day it will be to spend the +afternoon at her house. + +“I inclose you her address, and you can learn in ten minutes whether I +am a slanderer or, what I wish to be, + +“A FRIEND OF INJURED INNOCENCE.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SIR CHARLES was behind his time in Mayfair; but the lawyer and his +clerk had not arrived, and Miss Somerset was not visible. + +She appeared, however, at last, in a superb silk dress, the broad +luster of which would have been beautiful, only the effect was broken +and frittered away by six rows of gimp and fringe. But why blame her? +This is a blunder in art as universal as it is amazing, when one +considers the amount of apparent thought her sex devotes to dress. They +might just as well score a fair plot of velvet turf with rows of box, +or tattoo a blooming and downy cheek. + +She held out her hand, like a man, and talked to Sir Charles on +indifferent topics, till Mr. Oldfield arrived. She then retired into +the background, and left the gentlemen to discuss the deed. When +appealed to, she evaded direct replies, and put on languid and imperial +indifference. When she signed, it was with the air of some princess +bestowing a favor upon solicitation. + +But the business concluded, she thawed all in a moment, and invited the +gentlemen to luncheon with charming cordiality. Indeed, her genuine +_bonhomie_ after her affected indifference was rather comic. Everybody +was content. Champagne flowed. The lady, with her good mother-wit, kept +conversation going till the lawyer was nearly missing his next +appointment. He hurried away; and Sir Charles only lingered, out of +good-breeding, to bid Miss Somerset good-by. In the course of +leave-taking he said he was sorry he left her with people about her of +whom he had a bad opinion. “Those women have no more feeling for you +than stones. When you lay in convulsions, your housekeeper looked on as +philosophically as if you had been two kittens at play--you and Polly.” + +“I saw her.” + +“Indeed! You appeared hardly in a condition to see anything.” + +“I did, though, and heard the old wretch tell the young monkey to water +my lilac dress. That was to get it for her Polly. She knew I'd never +wear it afterward.” + +“Then why don't you turn her off?” + +“Who'd take such a useless old hag, if I turned her off?” + +“You carry a charity a long way.” + +“I carry everything. What's the use doing things by halves, good or +bad?” + +“Well, but that Polly! She is young enough to get her living elsewhere; +and she is extremely disrespectful to you.” + +“That she is. If I wasn't a lady, I'd have given her a good hiding this +very day for her cheek!” + +“Then why not turn her off this very day for her cheek?” + +“Well, I'll tell you, since you and I are parted forever. No, I don't +like.” + +“Oh, come! No secrets between friends.” + +“Well, then, the old hag is--my mother.” + +“What?” + +“And the young jade--is my sister.” + +“Good Heavens!” + +“And the page--is my little brother.” + +“Ha, ha, ha!” + +“What, you are not angry?” + +“Angry? no. Ha, ha, ha!” + +“See what a hornets' nest you have escaped from. My dear friend, those +two women rob me through thick and thin. They steal my handkerchiefs, +and my gloves, and my very linen. They drink my wine like fishes. +They'd take the hair off my head, if it wasn't fast by the roots--for a +wonder.” + +“Why not give them a ten-pound note and send them home?” + +“They'd pocket the note, and blacken me in our village. That was why I +had them up here. First time I went home, after running about with that +little scamp, Vandeleur--do you know him?” + +“I have not the honor.” + +“Then your luck beats mine. One thing, he is going to the dogs as fast +as he can. Some day he'll come begging to me for a fiver. You mark my +words now.” + +“Well, but you were saying--” + +“Yes, I went off about Van. Polly _says_ I've a mind like running +water. Well, then, when I went home the first time--after Van, mother +and Polly raised a virtuous howl. 'All right,' said I--for, of course, +I know how much virtue there is under _their_ skins. Virtue of the +lower orders! Tell that to gentlefolks that don't know them. I do. I've +been one of 'em--'I know all about that,' says I. 'You want to share +the plunder, that is the sense of your virtuous cry.' So I had 'em up +here; and then there was no more virtuous howling, but a deal of +virtuous thieving, and modest drinking, and pure-minded selling of my +street-door to the highest male bidder. And they will corrupt the boy; +and if they do, I'll cuts their black hearts out with my riding-whip. +But I suppose I must keep them on; they are my own flesh and blood; and +if I was to be ill and dying, they'd do all they knew to keep me +alive--for their own sakes. I'm their milch cow, these country +innocents.” + +Sir Charles groaned aloud, and said, “My poor girl, you deserve a +better fate than this. Marry some honest fellow, and cut the whole +thing.” + +“I'll see about it. You try it first, and let us see how you like it.” + +And so they parted gayly. + +In the hall, Polly intercepted him, all smiles. He looked at her, +smiled in his sleeve, and gave her a handsome present. “If you please, +sir,” said she, “an old gentleman called for you.” + +“When?” + +“About an hour ago. Leastways, he asked if Sir Charles Bassett was +there. I said yes, but you wouldn't see no one.” + +“Who could it be? Why, surely you never told anybody I was to be here +to-day?” + +“La, no, sir! how could I?” said Polly, with a face of brass. + +Sir Charles thought this very odd, and felt a little uneasy about it. +All to Portman Square he puzzled over it; and at last he was driven to +the conclusion that Miss Somerset had been weak enough to tell some +person, male or female, of the coming interview, and so somebody had +called there--doubtless to ask him a favor. + +At five o'clock he reached Portman Square, and was about to enter, as a +matter of course; but the footman stopped him. “I beg pardon, Sir +Charles,” said the man, looking pale and agitated; “but I have strict +orders. My young lady is very ill.” + +“Ill! Let me go to her this instant.” + +“I daren't, Sir Charles, I daren't. I know you are a gentleman; pray +don't lose me my place. You would never get to see her. We none of us +know the rights, but there's something up. Sorry to say it, Sir +Charles, but we have strict orders not to admit you. Haven't you the +admiral's letter, sir?” + +“No; what letter?” + +“He has been after you, sir; and when he came back he sent Roger off to +your house with a letter.” + +A cold chill began to run down Sir Charles Bassett. He hailed a passing +hansom, and drove to his own house to get the admiral's letter; and as +he went he asked himself, with chill misgivings, what on earth had +happened. + +What had happened shall be told the reader precisely but briefly.. + +In the first place, Bella had opened the anonymous letter and read its +contents, to which the reader is referred. + +There are people who pretend to despise anonymous letters. Pure +delusion! they know they ought to, and so fancy they do; but they +don't. The absence of a signature gives weight, if the letter is ably +written and seems true. + +As for poor Bella Bruce, a dove's bosom is no more fit to rebuff a +poisoned arrow than she was to combat that foulest and direst of all a +miscreant's weapons, an anonymous letter. She, in her goodness and +innocence, never dreamed that any person she did not know could +possibly tell a lie to wound her. The letter fell on her like a cruel +revelation from heaven. + +The blow was so savage that, at first, it stunned her. + +She sat pale and stupefied; but beneath the stupor were the rising +throbs of coming agonies. + +After that horrible stupor her anguish grew and grew, till it found +vent in a miserable cry, rising, and rising, and rising, in agony. + +“Mamma! mamma! mamma!” + +Yes; her mother had been dead these three years, and her father sat in +the next room; yet, in her anguish, she cried to her mother--a cry the +which, if your mother had heard, she would have expected Bella's to +come to her even from the grave. + +Admiral Bruce heard this fearful cry--the living calling on the +dead--and burst through the folding-doors in a moment, white as a +ghost. + +He found his daughter writhing on the sofa, ghastly, and grinding in +her hand the cursed paper that had poisoned her young life. + +“My child! my child!” + +“Oh, papa! see! see!” And she tried to open the letter for him, but her +hands trembled so she could not. + +He kneeled down by her side, the stout old warrior, and read the +letter, while she clung to him, moaning now, and quivering all over +from head to foot. + +“Why, there's no signature! The writer is a coward and, perhaps, a +liar. Stop! he offers a test. I'll put him to it this minute.” + +He laid the moaning girl on the sofa, ordered his servants to admit +nobody into the house, and drove at once to Mayfair. + +He called at Miss Somerset's house, saw Polly, and questioned her. + +He drove home again, and came into the drawing-room looking as he had +been seen to look when fighting his ship; but his daughter had never +seen him so. “My girl,” said he, solemnly, “there's nothing for you to +do but to be brave, and hide your grief as well as you can, for the man +is unworthy of your love. That coward spoke the truth. He is there at +this moment.” + +“Oh, papa! papa! let me die! The world is too wicked for me. Let me +die!” + +“Die for an unworthy object? For shame! Go to your own room, my girl, +and pray to your God to help you, since your mother has left us. Oh, +how I miss her now! Go and pray, and let no one else know what we +suffer. Be your father's daughter. Fight and pray.” + +Poor Bella had no longer to complain that she was not commanded. She +kissed him, and burst into a great passion of weeping; but he led her +to the door, and she tottered to her own room, a blighted girl. + +The sight of her was harrowing. Under its influence the admiral dashed +off a letter to Sir Charles, calling him a villain, and inviting him to +go to France and let an indignant father write scoundrel on his +carcass. + +But when he had written this his good sense and dignity prevailed over +his fury; he burned the letter, and wrote another. This he sent by hand +to Sir Charles's house, and ordered his servants--but that the reader +knows. + +Sir Charles found the admiral's letter in his letter-rack. It ran thus: + + + +“SIR--We have learned your connection with a lady named Somerset, and I +have ascertained that you went from my daughter to her house this very +day. + +“Miss Bruce and myself withdraw from all connection with you, and I +must request you to attempt no communication with her of any kind. Such +an attempt would be an additional insult. + +“I am, sir, your obedient servant, + +“JOHN URQUHART BRUCE.” + + + +At first Sir Charles Bassett was stunned by this blow. Then his mind +resisted the admiral's severity, and he was indignant at being +dismissed for so common an offense. This gave way to deep grief and +shame at the thought of Bella and her lost esteem. But soon all other +feelings merged for a time in fury at the heartless traitor who had +destroyed his happiness, and had dashed the cup of innocent love from +his very lips. Boiling over with mortification and rage, he drove at +once to that traitor's house. Polly opened the door. He rushed past +her, and burst into the dining-room, breathless, and white with +passion. + +He found Miss Somerset studying the deed by which he had made her +independent for life. She started at his strange appearance, and +instinctively put both hands flat upon the deed. + +“You vile wretch!” cried Sir Charles. “You heartless monster! Enjoy +your work.” And he flung her the admiral's letter. But he did not wait +while she read it; he heaped reproaches on her; and, for the first time +in her life, she did not reply in kind. + +“Are you mad?” she faltered. “What have I done?” + +“You have told Admiral Bruce.” + +“That's false.” + +“You told him I was to be here to-day.” + +“Charles, I never did. Believe me.” + +“You did. Nobody knew it but you. He was here to-day at the very hour.” + +“May I never get up alive off this chair if I told a soul. Yes, our +Polly. I'll ring for her.” + +“No, you will not. She is your sister. Do you think I'll take the word +of such reptiles against the plain fact? You have parted my love and +me--parted us on the very day I had made you independent for life. An +innocent love was waiting to bless me, and an honest love was in your +power, thanks to me, your kind, forgiving friend and benefactor. I have +heaped kindness on you from the first moment I had the misfortune to +know you. I connived at your infidelities--” + +“Charles! Don't say that. I never _was.”_ + +“I indulged your most expensive whims, and, instead of leaving you with +a curse, as all the rest did that ever knew you, and as you deserve, I +bought your consent to lead a respectable life, and be blessed with a +virtuous love. You took the bribe, but robbed me of the +blessing--viper! You have destroyed me, body and soul--monster! perhaps +blighted her happiness as well; you she-devils hate an angel worse than +Heaven hates you. But you shall suffer with us; not your heart, for you +have none, but your pocket. You have broken faith with me, and sent all +my happiness to hell; I'll send your deed to hell after it!” With this, +he flung himself upon the deed, and was going to throw it into the +fire. Now up to that moment she had been overpowered by this man's +fury, whom she had never seen the least angry before; but when he laid +hands on her property it acted like an electric shock. “No! no!” she +screamed, and sprang at him like a wildcat. + +Then ensued a violent and unseemly struggle all about the room; chairs +were upset, and vases broken to pieces; and the man and woman dragged +each other to and fro, one fighting for her property, as if it was her +life, and the other for revenge. + +Sir Charles, excited by fury, was stronger than himself, and at last +shook off one of her hands for a moment, and threw the deed into the +fire. She tried to break from him and save it, but he held her like +iron. + +Yet not for long. While he was holding her back, and she straining +every nerve to get to the fire, he began to show sudden symptoms of +distress. He gasped loudly, and cried, “Oh! oh! I'm choking!” and then +his clutch relaxed. She tore herself from it, and, plunging forward, +rescued the smoking parchment. + +At that moment she heard a great stagger behind her, and a pitiful +moan, and Sir Charles fell heavily, striking his head against the edge +of the sofa. She looked round--as she knelt, and saw him, black in the +face, rolling his eyeballs fearfully, while his teeth gnashed awfully, +and a little jet of foam flew through his lips. + +Then she shrieked with terror, and the blackened deed fell from her +hands. At this moment Polly rushed into the room. She saw the fearful +sight, and echoed her sister's scream. But they were neither of them +women to lose their heads and beat the air with their hands. They got +to him, and both of them fought hard with the unconscious sufferer, +whose body, in a fresh convulsion, now bounded away from the sofa, and +bade fair to batter itself against the ground. + +They did all they could to hold him with one arm apiece, and to release +his swelling throat with the other. Their nimble fingers whipped off +his neck-tie in a moment; but the distended windpipe pressed so against +the shirt-button they could not undo it. Then they seized the collar, +and, pulling against each other, wrenched the shirt open so powerfully +that the button flew into the air, and tinkled against a mirror a long +way off. + +A few more struggles, somewhat less violent, and then the face, from +purple, began to whiten, the eyeballs fixed; the pulse went down; the +man lay still. + +“Oh, my God!” cried Rhoda Somerset. “He is dying! To the nearest +doctor! There's one three doors off. No bonnet! It's life and death +this moment. Fly!” + +Polly obeyed, and Doctor Andrews was actually in the room within five +minutes. + +He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and felt his pulse +anxiously. + +Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, though she did not +look it, began to weep bitterly, and rock herself in rustic fashion. + +The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told him, between her sobs, +how Sir Charles had been taken. + +The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by those frightful +symptoms she related, took a more cheerful view directly. “Then do not +alarm yourself unnecessarily,” he said. “It was only an epileptic fit.” + +“Only!” sobbed Miss Somerset. “Oh, if you had seen him! And he lies +like death.” + +“Yes,” said Dr. Andrews; “a severe epileptic fit is really a terrible +thing to look at; but it is not dangerous in proportion. Is he used to +have them?” + +“Oh, no, doctor--never had one before.” + +Here she was mistaken, I think. + +“You must keep him quiet; and give him a moderate stimulant as soon as +he can swallow comfortably; the quietest room in the house; and don't +let him be hungry, night or day. Have food by his bedside, and watch +him for a day or two. I'll come again this evening.” + +The doctor went to his dinner--tranquil. + +Not so those he left. Miss Somerset resigned her own luxurious bedroom, +and had the patient laid, just as he was, upon her bed. She sent the +page out to her groom and ordered two loads of straw to be laid before +the door; and she watched by the sufferer, with brandy and water by her +side. + +Sir Charles now might have seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, but for +his eyes. They were open, and showed more white, and less pupil, than +usual. + +However, in time he began to sigh and move, and even mutter; and, +gradually, some little color came back to his pale cheeks. + +Then Miss Somerset had the good sense to draw back out of his sight, +and order Polly to take her place by his side. Polly did so, and, some +time afterward, at a fresh order, put a teaspoonful of brandy to his +lips, which were still pale and even bluish. + +The doctor returned, and brought his assistant. They put the patient to +bed. + +“His life is in no danger,” said he. “I wish I was as sure about his +reason.” + + + +At one o'clock in the morning, as Polly was snoring by the patient's +bedside, a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was Rhoda. + +“Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here.” + +“You'd be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do.” + +“Very likely,” said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as very +singular. “Good-night.” + +Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had ever +thought before. + +Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat her +sister watching the patient, out of sight. + +“La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?” + +“Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on this +lilac silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino.” + +“Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither.” + +“I'm not a liar like you,” said the other, becoming herself for a +moment, “and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in the +dressing-room.” + +“All right,” said Polly, joyfully. + +“And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closed +my eyes.” + +“Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself all the same. +Whatever you can see in cold water, to run after it so, I can't think. +If I was to flood myself like you, it would soon float me to my long +home.” + +“How do you know? _You never gave it a trial._ Come, no more chat. Give +me my bath: and then you may wash yourself in a tea-cup if you +like--only don't wash my spoons in the same water, for _mercy's sake!”_ + +Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly brought cold water +galore, and laid out her new merino dress. In this sober suit, with +plain linen collar and cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumed +her watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out of sight, for +the patient was now beginning to mutter incoherently, yet in a way that +showed his clouded faculties were dwelling on the calamity which had +befallen him. + +About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly entering, Rhoda +called her to the window and showed her two female figures plodding +down the street. “Look,” said she. “Those are the only women I envy. +Sisters of Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at those +beastly ugly caps: then come and tell me how to make one.” + +“Here's a go!” said Polly; but executed the commission promptly. + +It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of linen into one of +those ugly caps, which are beautiful banners of Christian charity and +womanly tenderness to the sick and suffering. The monster cap was made +in an hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and then she +no longer thought it necessary to sit out of the patient's sight. + +The consequence was that, in the middle of his ramblings, he broke off +and looked at her. The sister puzzled him. At last he called to her in +French. + +She made no reply. + +“Je suis a l'hopital, n'est ce pas bonne soeur?” + +“I am English,” said she, softly. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +“ENGLISH!” said Sir Charles. “Then tell me, how did I come here? Where +am I?” + +“You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept quiet; and I am +here to nurse you.” + +“A fit! Ay, I remember. That vile woman!” + +“Don't think of her: give your mind to getting well: remember, there is +somebody who would break her heart if you--” + +“Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving Bella!” He was so +weakened that he cried like a child. + +Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon the window-sill. + +“Why do I cry for her, like a great baby?” muttered Sir Charles. “She +wouldn't cry for me. She has cast me off in a moment.” + +“Not she. It is her father's doing. Have a little patience. The whole +thing shall be explained to them; and then she will soon soften the old +man. 'It is not as if you were really to blame.” + +“No more I was. It is all that vile woman.” + +“Oh, don't! She is so sorry; she has taken it all to heart. She had +once shammed a fit, on the very place; and when you had a real fit +there--on the very spot--oh, it was so fearful--and lay like one dead, +she saw God's finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don't say anything +more against her just now. She is trying so hard to be good. And, +besides, it is all a mistake: she never told that old admiral; she +never breathed a word out of her own house. Her own people have +betrayed her and you. She has made me promise two things: to find out +who told the admiral, and--” + +“Well?” + +“The second thing I have to do--Well, that is a secret between me and +that unhappy woman. She is bad enough, but not so heartless as you +think.” + +Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no more; and soon +after fell asleep. + +In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching. + +She now turned her head away from him, and asked him quietly to +describe Miss Bella Bruce to her. + +He described her in minute and glowing terms. “But oh, Sister,” said +he, “it is not her beauty only, but the beauty of her mind. So gentle, +so modest, so timid, so docile. She would never have had the heart to +turn me off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward to obey +me, sweet dove.” + +“Did she say so?” + +“Yes, that is her dream of happiness, to obey.” + +The Sister still questioned him with averted head, and he told her what +had passed between Bella and him the last time he saw her, and all +their innocent plans of married happiness. He told her, with the tear +in his eye, and she listened, with the tear in hers. “And then,” said +he, laying his hand on her shoulder, “is it not hard? I just went to +Mayfair, not to please myself, but to do an act of justice--of more +than justice; and then, for that, to have her door shut in my face. +Only two hours between the height of happiness and the depth of +misery.” + +The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her hands, and +thought. + +The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the room, and said, +“You are to go home. The carriage is at the door.” With this she +retired, and Sir Charles's valet entered the room soon after to help +him dress. + +“Where am I, James?” + +“Miss Somerset's house, Sir Charles.” + +“Then get me out of it directly.” + +“Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door.” + +“Who told you to come, James?” + +“Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.” + +“That is odd.” + +“Yes, Sir Charles.” + + + +When he got home he found a sofa placed by a fire, with wraps and +pillows; his cigar case laid out, and a bottle of salts, and also a +small glass of old cognac, in case of faintness. + +“Which of you had the gumption to do all this?” + +“Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.” + +“What, has she been _here?”_ + +“Yes, Sir Charles.” + +“Curse her!” + +“Yes, Sir Charles.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +“LOVE LIES BLEEDING.” + +BELLA BRUCE was drinking the bitterest cup a young virgin soul can +taste. Illusion gone--the wicked world revealed as it is, how unlike +what she thought it was--love crushed in her, and not crushed out of +her, as it might if she had been either proud or vain. + +Frail men and women should see what a passionate but virtuous woman can +suffer, when a revelation, of which they think but little, comes and +blasts her young heart, and bids her dry up in a moment the deep well +of her affection, since it flows for an unworthy object, and flows in +vain. I tell you that the fair head severed from the chaste body is +nothing to her compared with this. The fair body, pierced with heathen +arrows, was nothing to her in the days of old compared with this. + +In a word--for nowadays we can but amplify, and so enfeeble, what some +old dead master of language, immortal though obscure, has said in words +of granite--here + + “Love lay bleeding.” + +No fainting--no vehement weeping; but oh, such deep desolation; such +weariness of life; such a pitiable restlessness. Appetite gone; the +taste of food almost lost; sleep unwilling to come; and oh, the torture +of waking--for at that horrible moment all rushed back at once, the joy +that had been, the misery that was, the blank that was to come. + +She never stirred out, except when ordered, and then went like an +automaton. Pale, sorrow-stricken, and patient, she moved about, the +ghost of herself; and lay down a little, and then tried to work a +little, and then to read a little; and could settle to nothing but +sorrow and deep despondency. + +Not that she nursed her grief. She had been told to be brave, and she +tried. But her grief was her master. It came welling through her eyes +in a moment, of its own accord. + +She was deeply mortified too. But, in her gentle nature, anger could +play but a secondary part. Her indignation was weak beside her grief, +and did little to bear her up. + +Yet her sense of shame was vivid; and she tried hard not to let her +father see how deeply she loved the man who had gone from her to Miss +Somerset. Besides, he had ordered her to fight against a love that now +could only degrade her; he had ordered, and it was for her to obey. + +As soon as Sir Charles was better, he wrote her a long, humble letter, +owning that, before he knew her, he had led a free life; but assuring +her that, ever since that happy time, his heart and his time had been +solely hers; as to his visit to Miss Somerset, it had been one of +business merely, and this he could prove, if she would receive him. The +admiral could be present at that interview, and Sir Charles hoped to +convince him he had been somewhat hasty and harsh in his decision. + +Now the admiral had foreseen Sir Charles would write to her; so he had +ordered his man to bring all letters to him first. + +He recognized Sir Charles's hand, and brought the latter in to Bella. +“Now, my child,” said he, “be brave. Here is a letter from that man.” + +“Oh, papa! I thought he would. I knew he would.” And the pale face was +flushed with joy and hope all in a moment. + +“Do what?” + +“Write and explain.” + +“Explain? A thing that is clear as sunshine. He has written to throw +dust in your eyes again. You are evidently in no state to judge. _I_ +shall read this letter first.” + +“Yes, papa,” said Bella, faintly. + +He did read it, and she devoured his countenance all the time. + +“There is nothing in it. He offers no real explanation, but only says +he can explain, and asks for an interview--to play upon your weakness. +If I give you this letter, it will only make you cry, and render your +task more difficult. I must be strong for your good, and set you an +example. I loved this young man too; but, now I know him”--then he +actually thrust the letter into the fire. + +But this was too much. Bella shrieked at the act, and put her hand to +her heart, and shrieked again. “Ah! you'll kill us, you'll kill us +both!” she cried. “Poor Charles! Poor Bella! You don't love your +child--you have no pity.” And, for the first time, her misery was +violent. She writhed and wept, and at last went into violent hysterics, +and frightened that stout old warrior more than cannon had ever +frightened him; and presently she became quiet, and wept at his knees, +and begged his forgiveness, and said he was wiser than she was, and she +would obey him in everything, only he must not be angry with her if she +could not live. + +Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, and began to +realize what deep waters of affliction his girl was wading in. + +Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to Sir Charles to say that +his daughter was too ill to write; but that no explanation was +possible, and no interview could be allowed. + +Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the most sanguine hopes, +was now as wretched as Bella. Only, now that he was refused a hearing, +he had wounded pride to support him a little under wounded love. + +Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter's health, and even for her +life--she pined so visibly--now ordered her to divide her day into +several occupations, and exact divisions of time--an hour for this, an +hour for that; an hour by the clock--and here he showed practical +wisdom. Try it, ye that are very unhappy, and tell me the result. + +As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk round the square +from eleven to twelve A. M., but never alone; he was not going to have +Sir Charles surprising her into an interview. He always went with her, +and, as he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she had to +walk in sight. He took a stout stick with him--for Sir Charles. But Sir +Charles was proud, and stayed at home with his deep wound. + +One day, walking round the square with a step of Mercury and heart of +lead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of Charity pacing slow and thoughtful; +their eyes met and drank, in a moment, every feature of each other. + +The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on that fair face; +for the next time they met, she eyed her with a certain sympathy, which +did not escape Bella. + +This subtle interchange took place several times and Bella could not +help feeling a little grateful. “Ah!” she thought to herself, “how kind +religious people are! I should like to speak to her.” And the next time +they met she looked wistfully in the Sister's face. + +She did not meet her again, for she went and rested on a bench, in +sight of her father, but at some distance from him. Unconsciously to +herself, his refusal even to hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was so +hard on him and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, the +last little chance of happiness. + +By-and-by the Sister came and sat on the same bench. + +Bella was hardly surprised, but blushed high, for she felt that her own +eyes had invited the sympathy of a stranger; and now it seemed to be +coming. The timid girl felt uneasy. The Sister saw that, and approached +her with tact. “You look unwell,” said she, gently, but with no +appearance of extravagant interest or curiosity. + +“I am--a little,” said Bella, very reservedly. + +“Excuse my remarking it. We are professional nurses, and apt to be a +little officious, I fear.” + +No reply. + +“I saw you were unwell. But I hope it is not serious. I can generally +tell when the sick are in danger.” A peculiar look. “I am glad not to +see it in so young and--good a face.” + +“You are young, too; very young, and--” she was going to say +“beautiful,” but she was too shy--“to be a Sister of Charity. But I am +sure you never regret leaving such a world as this is.” + +“Never. I have lost the only thing I ever valued in it.” + +“I have no right to ask you what that was.” + +“You shall know without asking. One I loved proved unworthy.” + +The Sister sighed deeply, and then, hiding her face with her hands for +a moment, rose abruptly, and left the square, ashamed, apparently, of +having been betrayed into such a confession. + +Bella, when she was twenty yards off, put out a timid hand, as if to +detain her; but she had not the courage to say anything of the kind. + +She never told her father a word. She had got somebody now who could +sympathize with her better than he could. + +Next day the Sister was there, and Bella bowed to her when she met her. +This time it was the Sister who went and sat on the bench. + +Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last could not resist +the temptation. She came and sat down on the bench, and blushed; as +much as to say, “I have the courage to come, but not to speak upon a +certain subject, which shall be nameless.” + +The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy. She opened a +conversation. “I committed a fault yesterday. I spoke to you of myself, +and of the past: it is discouraged by our rules. We are bound to +inquire the griefs of others; not to tell our own.” + +This was a fair opening, but Bella was too delicate to show her wounds +to a fresh acquaintance. + +The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very different. + +“But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. Some time ago I +nursed a gentleman whom love had laid on a sick-bed.” + +“A gentleman! What! can they love as we do?” said Bella, bitterly. + +“Not many of them; but this was an exception. But I don't know whether +I ought to tell these secrets to so young a lady.” + +“Oh, yes--please--what else is there in this world worth talking about? +Tell me about the poor man who could love as we can.” + +The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go on. + +“Well, he was a man of the world, and he had not always been a good +man; but he was trying to be. He had fallen in love with a young lady, +and seen the beauty of virtue, and was going to marry her and lead a +good life. But he was a man of honor, and there was a lady for whom he +thought it was his duty to provide. He set his lawyer to draw a deed, +and his lawyer appointed a day for signing it at her house. The poor +man came because his lawyer told him. Do you think there was any great +harm in that?” + +“No; of course not.” + +“Well, then, he lost his love for that.” + +Miss Bruce's color began to come and go, and her supple figure to +crouch a little. She said nothing. + +The Sister continued: “Some malicious person went and told the young +lady's father the gentleman was in the habit of visiting that lady, and +would be with her at a certain hour. And so he was; but it was the +lawyer's appointment, you know. You seem agitated.” + +“No, no; not agitated,” said Bella, “but astonished; it is so like a +story I know. A young lady, a friend of mine, had an anonymous letter, +telling her that one she loved and esteemed was unworthy. But what you +have told me shows me how deceitful appearances may be. What was your +patient's name?” + +“It is against our rules to tell that. But you said an 'anonymous +letter.' Was your friend so weak as to believe an anonymous letter? The +writer of such a letter is a coward, and a coward always is a liar. +Show me your friend's anonymous letter. I may, perhaps, be able to +throw a light on it.” + +The conversation was interrupted by Admiral Bruce, who had approached +them unobserved. “Excuse me,” said he, “but you ladies seem to have hit +upon a very interesting theme.” + +“Yes, papa,” said Bella. “I took the liberty to question this lady as +to her experiences of sick-beds, and she was good enough to give me +some of them.” + +Having uttered this with a sudden appearance of calmness that first +amazed the Sister, then made her smile, she took her father's arm, +bowed politely, and a little stiffly, to her new friend, and drew the +admiral away. + +“Oh!” thought the Sister. “I am not to speak to the old gentleman. He +is not in her confidence. Yet she is very fond of him. How she hangs on +his arm! Simplicity! Candor! We are all tarred with the same stick--we +women.” + +That night Bella was a changed girl--exalted and depressed by turns, +and with no visible reason. + +Her father was pleased. Anything better than that deadly languor. + +The next day Bella sat by her father's side in the square, longing to +go to the Sister, yet patiently waiting to be ordered. + +At last the admiral, finding her dull and listless, said, “Why don't +you go and talk to the Sister? She amuses you. I'll join you when I +have smoked this cigar.” + +The obedient Bella rose, and went toward the Sister as if compelled. +But when she got to her her whole manner changed. She took her warmly +by the hand, and said, trembling and blushing, and all on fire, “I have +brought you the anonymous letter.” + +The elder actress took it and ran her eye over it--an eye that now +sparkled like a diamond. “Humph!” said she, and flung off all the +dulcet tones of her assumed character with mighty little ceremony. +“This hand is disguised a little, but I think I know it. I am sure I +do! The dirty little rascal!” + +“Madam!” cried Bella, aghast with surprise at this language. + +“I tell you I know the writer and his rascally motive. You must lend me +this for a day or two.” + +“Must I?” said Bella. “Excuse me! Papa would be so angry.” + +“Very likely; but you will lend it to me for all that; for with this I +can clear Miss Bruce's lover and defeat his enemies.” + +Bella uttered a faint cry, and trembled, and her bosom heaved +violently. She looked this way and that, like a frightened deer. “But +papa? His eye is on us.” + +“Never deceive your father!” said the Sister, almost sternly; “but,” + darting her gray eyes right into those dove-like orbs, “give me five +minutes' start--IF YOU REALLY LOVE SIR CHARLES BASSETT.” + +With these words she carried off the letter; and Bella ran, blushing, +panting, trembling, to her father, and clung to him. + +He questioned her, but could get nothing from her very intelligible +until the Sister was out of sight, and then she told him all without +reserve. + +“I was unworthy of him to doubt him. An anonymous slander. I'll never +trust appearances again. Poor Charles! Oh, my darling! what he must +have suffered if he loves like me.” Then came a shower of happy tears; +then a shower of happy kisses. + +The admiral groaned, but for a long time he could not get a word in. +When he did it was chilling. “My poor girl,” said he, “this unhappy +love blinds you. What, don't you see the woman is no nun, but some sly +hussy that man has sent to throw dust in your eyes?” + +Nothing she could say prevailed to turn him from this view, and he +acted upon it with resolution: he confined her excursions to a little +garden at the back of the house, and forbade her, on any pretense, to +cross the threshold. + +Miss Somerset came to the square in another disguise, armed with +important information. But no Bella Bruce appeared to meet her. + + + +All this time Richard Bassett was happy as a prince. + +So besotted was he with egotism, and so blinded by imaginary wrongs, +that he rejoiced in the lovers' separation, rejoiced in his cousin's +attack. + +Polly, who now regarded him almost as a lover, told him all about it; +and already in anticipation he saw himself and his line once more lords +of the two manors--Bassett and Huntercombe--on the demise of Sir +Charles Bassett, Bart., deceased without issue. + +And, in fact, Sir Charles was utterly defeated. He lay torpid. + +But there was a tough opponent in the way--all the more dangerous that +she was not feared. + +One fine day Miss Somerset electrified her groom by ordering her pony +carriage to the door at ten A. M. + +She took the reins on the pavement, like a man, jumped in light as a +feather, and away rattled the carriage into the City. The ponies were +all alive, the driver's eye keen as a bird's; her courage and her +judgment equal. She wound in and out among the huge vehicles with +perfect composure; and on those occasions when, the traffic being +interrupted, the oratorical powers were useful to fill up the time, she +shone with singular brilliance. The West End is too often in debt to +the City, but, in the matter of chaff, it was not so this day; for +whenever she took a peck she returned a bushel; and so she rattled to +the door of Solomon Oldfield, solicitor, Old Jewry. + +She penetrated into the inner office of that worthy, and told him he +must come with her that minute to Portman Square. + +“Impossible, madam!” And, as they say in the law reports, gave his +reasons. + +“Certain, sir!” And gave no reasons. + +He still resisted. + +Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day and chaff his +clients one after another, and that his connection with the Bassett and +Huntercombe estates should end. + +Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and consented, with a sigh. + +She drove him westward, wincing every now and then at her close +driving, and told him all, and showed him what she was pleased to call +her little game. He told her it was too romantic. Said he, “You ladies +read nothing but novels; but the real world is quite different from the +world of novels.” Having delivered this remonstrance--which was +tolerably just, for she never read anything but novels and sermons--he +submitted like a lamb, and received her instructions. + +She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time they were at +Admiral Bruce's door. + +Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. “Mr. Oldfield, +solicitor, and a lady--on business.” + +The porter delivered this to the footman with the accuracy which all +who send verbal messages deserve and may count on. “Mr. Oldfield and +lady.” + +The footman, who represented the next step in oral tradition, without +which form of history the Heathen world would never have known that +Hannibal softened the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world that +eleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the size of Putney, +announced the pair as “Mr. and Mrs. Hautville.” + +“I don't know them, I think. Well, I will see them.” + +They entered, and the admiral stared a little, and wondered how this +couple came together--the keen but plain old man, with clothes hanging +on him, and the dashing beauty, with her dress in the height of the +fashion, and her gauntleted hands. However, he bowed ceremoniously, and +begged his visitors to be seated. + +Now the folding-doors were ajar, and the _soi-disant_ Mrs. Oldfield +peeped. She saw Bella Bruce at some distance, seated by the fire, in a +reverie. + +Judge that young lady's astonishment when she looked up and observed a +large white, well-shaped hand, sparkling with diamonds and rubies, +beckoning her furtively. + + + +The owner of that sparkling hand soon heard a soft rustle of silk come +toward the door; the very rustle, somehow, was eloquent, and betrayed +love and timidity, and something innocent yet subtle. The jeweled hand +went in again directly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MEANTIME Mr. Oldfield began to tell the admiral who he was, and that he +was come to remove a false impression about a client of his, Sir +Charles Bassett. + +“That, sir,” said the admiral, sternly, “is a name we never mention +here.” + +He rose and went to the folding-doors, and deliberately closed them. + +The Somerset, thus defeated, bit her lip, and sat all of a heap, like a +cat about to spring, looking sulky and vicious. + +Mr. Oldfield persisted, and, as he took the admiral's hint and lowered +his voice, he was interrupted no more, but made a simple statement of +those facts which are known to the reader. + +Admiral Bruce heard them, and admitted that the case was not quite so +bad as he had thought. + +Then Mr. Oldfield proposed that Sir Charles should be re-admitted. + +“No,” said the old admiral, firmly; “turn it how you will, it is too +ugly; the bloom of the thing is gone. Why should my daughter take that +woman's leavings? Why should I give her pure heart to a man about +town?” + +“Because you will break it else,” said Miss Somerset, with affected +politeness. + +“Give her credit for more dignity, madam, if you please,” replied +Admiral Bruce, with equal politeness. + +“Oh, bother dignity!” cried the Somerset. + +At this free phrase from so well-dressed a lady Admiral Bruce opened +his eyes, and inquired of Oldfield, rather satirically, who was this +lady that did him the honor to interfere in his family affairs. + +Oldfield looked confused; but Somerset, full of mother-wit, was not to +be caught napping. “I'm a by-stander; and they always see clearer than +the folk themselves. You are a man of honor, sir, and you are very +clever at sea, no doubt, and a fighter, and all that; but you are no +match for land-sharks. You are being made a dupe and a tool of. Who do +you think wrote that anonymous letter to your daughter? A friend of +truth? a friend of injured innocence? Nothing of the sort. One Richard +Bassett--Sir Charles's cousin. Here, Mr. Oldfield, please compare these +two handwritings closely, and you will see I am right.” She put down +the anonymous letter and Richard Bassett's letter to herself; but she +could not wait for Mr. Oldfield to compare the documents, now her +tongue was set going. “Yes, gentlemen, this is new to you; but you'll +find that little scheming rascal wrote them both, and with as base a +motive and as black a heart as any other anonymous coward's. His game +is to make Sir Charles Bassett die childless, and so then this dirty +fellow would inherit the estate; and owing to you being so green, and +swallowing an anonymous letter like pure water from the spring, he very +nearly got his way. Sir Charles has been at death's door along of all +this.” + +“Hush, madam! not so loud, please,” whispered Admiral Bruce, looking +uneasily toward the folding, doors. + +“Why not?” bawled the Somerset. “THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T +BE SHAMED. I tell you that your precious letter brought Sir Charles +Bassett to the brink of the grave. Soon as ever he got it he came +tearing in his cab to Miss Somerset's house, and accused her of telling +the lie to keep him--and he might have known better, for the jade never +did a sneaking thing in her life. But, any way, he thought it must be +her doing, miscalled her like a dog, and raged at her dreadful, and at +last--what with love and fury and despair--he had the terriblest fit +you ever saw. He fell down as black as your hat, and his eyes rolled, +and his teeth gnashed, and he foamed at the mouth, and took four to +hold him; and presently as white as a ghost, and given up for dead. No +pulse for hours; and when his life came back his reason was gone.” + +“Good Heavens, madam!” + +“For a time it was. How he did rave! and 'Bella' the only name on his +lips. And now he lies in his own house as weak as water. Come, old +gentleman, don't you be too hard; you are not a child, like your +daughter; take the world as it is. Do you think you will ever find a +man of fortune who has not had a lady friend? Why, every single +gentleman in London that can afford to keep a saddle-horse has an +article of that sort in some corner or other; and if he parts with her +as soon as his banns are cried, that is all you can expect. Do you +think any mother in Belgravia would make a row about that? They are +downier than you are; they would shrug their aristocratic shoulders, +and decline to listen to the _past_ lives of their sons-in-law--unless +it was all in the newspapers, mind you.” + +“If Belgravian mothers have mercenary minds, that is no reason why I +should, whose cheeks have bronzed in the service of a virtuous queen, +and whose hairs have whitened in honor.” + +On receiving this broadside the Somerset altered her tone directly, and +said, obsequiously: “That is true, sir, and I beg your pardon for +comparing you to the trash. But brave men are pitiful, you know. Then +show your pity here. Pity a gentleman that repented his faults as soon +as your daughter showed him there was a better love within reach, and +now lies stung by an anonymous viper, and almost dying of love and +mortification; and pity your own girl, that will soon lose her health, +and perhaps her life, if you don't give in.” + +“She is not so weak, madam. She is in better spirits already.” + +“Ay, but then she didn't know what he had suffered for _her._ She does +now, for I heard her moan; and she will die for him now, or else she +will give you twice as many kisses as usual some day, and cry a +bucketful over you, and then run away with her lover. I know women +better than you do; I am one of the precious lot.” + +The admiral replied only with a look of superlative scorn. This +incensed the Somerset; and that daring woman, whose ear was nearer to +the door, and had caught sounds that escaped the men, actually turned +the handle, and while her eye flashed defiance, her vigorous foot +spurned the folding-doors wide open in half a moment. + +Bella Bruce lay with her head sidewise on the table, and her hands +extended, moaning and sobbing piteously for poor Sir Charles. + +“For shame, madam, to expose my child,” cried the admiral, bursting +with indignation and grief. He rushed to her and took her in his arms. + +She scarcely noticed him, for the moment he turned her she caught sight +of Miss Somerset, and recognized her face in a moment. “Ah! the Sister +of Charity!” she cried, and stretched out her hands to her, with a look +and a gesture so innocent, confiding, and imploring, that the Somerset, +already much excited by her own eloquence, took a turn not uncommon +with termagants, and began to cry herself. + +But she soon stopped that, for she saw her time was come to go, and +avoid unpleasant explanations. She made a dart and secured the two +letters. “Settle it among yourselves,” said she, wheeling round and +bestowing this advice on the whole party; then shot a sharp arrow at +the admiral as she fled: “If you must be a tool of Richard Bassett, +don't be a tool and a dupe by halves. _He_ is in love with her too. +Marry her to the blackguard, and then you will be sure to kill Sir +Charles.” Having delivered this with such volubility that the words +pattered out like a roll of musketry, she flounced out, with red cheeks +and wet eyes, rushed down the stairs, and sprang into her carriage, +whipped the ponies, and away at a pace that made the spectators stare. + +Mr. Oldfield muttered some excuses, and retired more sedately. + +All this set Bella Bruce trembling and weeping, and her father was some +time before he could bring her to anything like composure. Her first +words, when she could find breath, were, “He is innocent; he is +unhappy. Oh, that I could fly to him!” + +“Innocent! What proof?” + +“That brave lady said so.” + +“Brave lady! A bold hussy. Most likely a friend of the woman Somerset, +and a bird of the same feather. Sir Charles has done himself no good +with me by sending such an emissary.” + +“No, papa; it was the lawyer brought her, and then her own good heart +_made her burst out._ Ah! she is not like me: she has courage. What a +noble thing courage is, especially in a woman!” + +“Pray did you hear the language of this noble lady?” + +“Every word nearly; and I shall never forget them. They were diamonds +and pearls.” + +“Of the sort you can pick up at Billingsgate.” + +“Ah, papa, she pleaded for _him_ as I cannot plead, and yet I love him. +It was true eloquence. Oh, how she made me shudder! Only think: he had +a fit, and lost his reason, and all for me. What shall I do? What shall +I do?” + +This brought on a fit of weeping. + +Her father pitied her, and gave her a crumb of sympathy: said he was +sorry for Sir Charles. + +“But,” said he, recovering his resolution, “it cannot be helped. He +must expiate his vices, like other men. Do, pray, pluck up a little +spirit and sense. Now try and keep to the point. This woman came from +him; and you say you heard her language, and admire it. Quote me some +of it.” + +“She said he fell down as black as his hat, and his eyes rolled, and +his poor teeth gnashed, and--oh, my darling! my darling! oh! oh! oh!” + +“There--there--I mean about other things.” + +Bella complied, but with a running accompaniment of the sweetest little +sobs. + +“She said I must be very green, to swallow an anonymous letter like +spring water. Oh! oh!” + +“Green? There was a word!” + +“Oh! oh! But it is the right word. You can't mend it. Try, and you will +see you can't. Of course I was green. Oh! And she said every gentleman +who can afford to keep a saddle-horse has a female friend, till his +banns are called in church. Oh! oh!” + +“A pretty statement to come to your ears!” + +“But if it is the truth! 'THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T BE +SHAMED.' Ah! I'll not forget that: I'll pray every night I may remember +those words of the brave lady. Oh!” + +“Yes, take her for your oracle.” + +“I mean to. I always try to profit by my superiors. She has courage: I +have none. I beat about the bush, and talk skim-milk; she uses the very +word. She said we have been the dupe and the tool of a little scheming +rascal, an anonymous coward, with motives as base as his heart is +black--oh! oh! Ay, that is the way to speak of such a man; I can't do +it myself, but I reverence the brave lady who can. And she wasn't +afraid even of you, dear papa. 'Come, old gentleman'--ha! ha! +ha!--'take the world as it is; Belgravian mothers would not break +_both_ their hearts for what is past and gone.' What hard good sense! a +thing I always _did_ admire: because I've got none. But her _heart_ is +not hard; after all her words of fire, that went so straight instead of +beating the bush, she ended by crying for me. Oh! oh! oh! Bless her! +Bless her! If ever there was a good woman in the world, that is one. +She was not born a lady, I am afraid; but that is nothing: she was born +a woman, and I mean to make her acquaintance, and take her for my +example in all things. No, dear papa, women are not so pitiful to women +without cause. She is almost a stranger, yet she cried for me. Can you +be harder to me than she is? No; pity your poor girl, who will lose her +health, and perhaps her life. Pity poor Charles, stung by an anonymous +viper, and laid on a bed of sickness for me. Oh! oh! oh!” + +“I do pity you, Bella. When you cry like this, my heart bleeds.” + +“I'll try not to cry, papa. Oh! oh!” + +“But most of all, I pity your infatuation, your blindness. Poor, +innocent dove, that looks at others by the light of her own goodness, +and so sees all manner of virtues in a brazen hussy. Now answer me one +plain question. You called her 'the Sister!' Is she not the same woman +that played the Sister of Charity?” + +Bella blushed to the temples, and said, hesitatingly, she was not quite +sure. + +“Come, Bella. I thought you were going to imitate the jade, and not +beat about the bush. Yes or no?” + +“The features are very like.” + +“Bella, you know it is the same woman. You recognized her in a moment. +That speaks volumes. But she shall find I am not to be made 'a dupe and +a tool of' quite so easily as she thinks. I'll tell you what--this is +some professional actress Sir Charles has hired to waylay you. Little +simpleton!” + +He said no more at that time; but after dinner he ruminated, and took a +very serious, indeed almost a maritime, view of the crisis. “I'm +overmatched now,” thought he. “They will cut my sloop out under the +very guns of the flagship if we stay much longer in this port--a lawyer +against me, and a woman too; there's nothing to be done but heave +anchor, hoist sail, and run for it.” + +He sent off a foreign telegram, and then went upstairs. “Bella, my +dear,” said he, “pack up your clothes for a journey. We start +to-morrow.” + +“A journey, papa! A long one?” + +“No. We shan't double the Horn this time.” + +“Brighton? Paris?” + +“Oh, farther than that.” + +“The grave: that is the journey I should like to take.” + + “So you shall, some day; but just now it is a _foreign_ port you are +bound for. Go and pack.” + +“I obey.” And she was creeping off, but he called her back and kissed +her, and said, “Now I'll tell you where you are going; but you must +promise me solemnly not to write one line to Sir Charles.” + +She promised, but cried as soon as she had promised; whereat the +admiral inferred he had done wisely to exact the promise. + +“Well, my dear,” said he, “we are going to Baden. Your aunt Molineux is +there. She is a woman of great delicacy and prudence, and has daughters +of her own all well married, thanks to her motherly care. She will +bring you to your senses better than I can.” + +Next evening they left England by the mail; and the day after Richard +Bassett learned this through his servant, and went home triumphant, +and, indeed, wondering at his success. He ascribed it, however, to the +Nemesis which dogs the heels of those who inherit the estate of +another. + +Such was the only moral reflection he made, though the business in +general, and particularly his share in it, admitted of several. + + Miss Somerset also heard of it, and told Mr. Oldfield; he told Sir +Charles Bassett. + +That gentleman sighed deeply, and said nothing. He had lost all hope. + + + +The whole matter appeared stagnant for about ten days; and then a +delicate hand stirred the dead waters cautiously. Mr. Oldfield, of all +people in the world, received a short letter from Bella Bruce. + + + +“Konigsberg Hotel, BADEN. + +“Miss Bruce presents her compliments to Mr. Oldfield, and will feel +much obliged if he will send her the name and address of that brave +lady who accompanied him to her father's house. + +“Miss Bruce desires to thank that lady, personally, for her noble +defense of one with whom it would be improper for her to communicate; +but she can never be indifferent to his welfare, nor hear of his +sufferings without deep sorrow.” + + + +“Confound it!” said Solomon Oldfield. “What am I to do? I mustn't tell +her it is Miss Somerset.” So the wary lawyer had a copy of the letter +made, and sent to Miss Somerset for instructions. + +Miss Somerset sent for Mr. Marsh, who was now more at her beck and call +than ever, and told him she had a ticklish letter to write. “I can talk +with the best,” said she, “but the moment I sit down and take up a pen +something cold runs up my shoulder, and then down my backbone, and I'm +palsied; now you are always writing, and can't say 'Bo' to a goose in +company. Let us mix ourselves; I'll walk about and speak my mind, and +then you put down the cream, and send it.” + +From this ingenious process resulted the following composition: + + + +“She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call 'the brave lady' happened +to know the truth, and that tempted her to try and baffle an anonymous +slanderer, who was ruining the happiness of a lady and gentleman. Being +a person of warm impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishes +to retire into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce's desire to +know her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but at present +she must deny herself that honor. If her reasons were known, Miss Bruce +would not be offended nor hurt; she would entirely approve them.” + + + +Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, disconsolate, +his servant told him a lady wanted to see him. + +“Who is it?” + +“Don't know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort of a nun, Sir +Charles.” + +“Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that nursed me. Admit her, by +all means.” + +The Sister came in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received her +with profound respect, and thanked her, with some little hesitation, +for her kind attention to him. She stopped him by saying that was +merely her duty. “But,” said she, softly, “words fell from you, on the +bed of sickness, that touched my heart; and besides I happen to know +the lady.” + +“You know my Bella!” cried Sir Charles. “Ah, then no wonder you speak +so kindly; you can feel what I have lost. She has left England to avoid +me.” + +“All the better. Where she is the door cannot be closed in your face. +She is at Baden. Follow her there. She has heard the truth from Mr. +Oldfield, and she knows who wrote the anonymous letter.” + +“And who did?” + +“Mr. Richard Bassett.” + +This amazed Sir Charles. + +“The scoundrel!” said he, after a long silence. + +“Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you, for his own ends? I would +go at once to Baden. Your leaving England would be one more proof to +her that she has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you will +win her, I tell you.” + +These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He rose from his chair, +flushed with sudden hope and ardor. “I'll leave for Baden to-morrow +morning.” + +The Sister rose to retire. + +“No, no,” cried Sir Charles. “I have not thanked you. I ought to go +down on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?” + +“No matter, sir.” + +“But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and now +you give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust me +with your name?” + +“We have no name.” + +“Your voice at times sounds very like--no, I will not affront you by +such a comparison.” + +“I'm her sister,” said she, like lightning. + +This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent and +uncomfortable. It gave him a chill. + +The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. + +Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. “It +must be as beautiful as your heart.” + +The Sister shook her head. “My face has been disfigured by a frightful +disorder.” + +Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity. + +“I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me as you seem to do. +But perhaps it will not always be so.” + +“I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. Can I do nothing for +you, who have done so much for me?” + +“Nothing--unless--” said she, feigning vast timidity, “you could spare +me that ring of yours, as a remembrance of the part I have played in +this affair.” + +Sir Charles colored. It was a ruby of the purest water, and had been +two centuries in his family. He colored, but was too fine a gentleman +to hesitate. He said, “By all means. But it is a poor thing to offer +_you.”_ + +“I shall value it very much.” + +“Say no more. I am fortunate in having anything you deign to accept.” + +And so the ring changed hands. + +The Sister now put it on her middle finger, and held up her hand, and +her bright eyes glanced at it, through her veil, with that delight +which her sex in general feel at the possession of a new bauble. She +recovered herself, however, and told him, soberly, the ring should +return to his family at her death, if not before. + +“I will give you a piece of advice for it,” said she. “Miss Bruce has +foxy hair; and she is very timid. Don't you take her advice about +commanding her. She would like to be your slave! Don't let her. Coax +her to speak her mind. Make a friend of her. Don't you put her to +this--that she must displease you, or else deceive you. She might +choose wrong, especially with that colored hair.” + +“It is not in her nature to deceive.” + +“It is not in her nature to displease. Excuse me; I am too fanciful, +and look at women too close. But I know your happiness depends on her. +All your eggs are in that one basket. Well, I have told you how to +carry the basket. Good-by.” + +Sir Charles saw her out, and bowed respectfully to her in the hall, +while his servant opened the street door. He did her this homage as his +benefactress. + + + +When admiral and Miss Bruce reached Baden Mrs. Molineux was away on a +visit; and this disappointed Admiral Bruce, who had counted on her +assistance to manage and comfort Bella. Bella needed the latter very +much. A glance at her pale, pensive, lovely face was enough to show +that sorrow was rooted at her heart. She was subjected to no restraint, +but kept the house of her own accord, thinking, as persons of her age +are apt to do, that her whole history must be written in her face. +Still, of course, she did go out sometimes; and one cold but bright +afternoon she was strolling languidly on the parade, when all in a +moment she met Sir Charles Bassett face to face. + +She gave an eloquent scream, and turned pale a moment, and then the hot +blood came rushing, and then it retired, and she stood at bay, with +heaving bosom--and great eyes. + +Sir Charles held out both hands pathetically. “Don't you be afraid of +me.” + +When she found he was so afraid of offending her she became more +courageous. “How dare you come here?” said she, but with more curiosity +than violence, for it had been her dream of hope he would come. + +“How could I keep away, when I heard you were here?” + +“You must not speak to me, sir; I am forbidden.” + +“Pray do not condemn me unheard.” + +“If I listen to you I shall believe you. I won't hear a word. Gentlemen +can do things that ladies cannot even speak about. Talk to my aunt +Molineux; our fate depends on her. This will teach you not to be so +wicked. What business have gentlemen to be so wicked? Ladies are not. +No, it is no use; I will not hear a syllable. I am ashamed to be seen +speaking to you. You are a bad character. Oh, Charles, is it true you +had a fit?” + +“Yes.” + +“And have you been very ill? You look ill.” + +“I am better now, dearest.” + +“Dearest! Don't call me names. How dare you keep speaking to me when I +request you not?” + +“But I can't excuse myself, and obtain my pardon, and recover your +love, unless I am allowed to speak.” + +“Oh, you can speak to my aunt Molineux, and she will read you a fine +lesson.” + +“Where is she?” + +“Nobody knows. But there is her house, the one with the iron gate. Get +her ear first, if you really love me; and don't you ever waylay me +again. If you do, I shall say something rude to you, sir. Oh, I'm so +happy!” + +Having let this out, she hid her face with her hands, and fled like the +very wind. + +At dinner-time she was in high spirits. + +The admiral congratulated her. + +“Brava, Bell! Youth and health and a foreign air will soon cure you of +that folly.” + +Bella blushed deeply, and said nothing. The truth struggled within her, +too, but she shrank from giving pain, and receiving expostulation. + +She kept the house, though, for two days, partly out of modesty, partly +out of an honest and pious desire to obey her father as much as she +could. + +The third day Mrs. Molineux arrived, and sent over to the admiral. + +He invited Bella to come with him. She consented eagerly, but was so +long in dressing that he threatened to go without her. She implored him +not to do that; and after a monstrous delay, the motive of which the +reader may perhaps divine, father and daughter called on Mrs. Molineux. +She received them very affectionately. But when the admiral, with some +hesitation, began to enter on the great subject, she said, quietly, +“Bella, my dear, go for a walk, and come back to me in half an hour.” + +“Aunt Molineux!” said Bella, extending both her hands imploringly to +that lady. + +Mrs. Molineux was proof against this blandishment, and Bella had to go. + +When she was gone, this lady, who both as wife and mother was literally +a model, rather astonished her brother the admiral. She said: “I am +sorry to tell you that you have conducted this matter with perfect +impropriety, both you and Bella. She had no business to show you that +anonymous letter; and when she did show it you, you should have taken +it from her, and told her not to believe a word of it.” + +“And married my daughter to a libertine! Why, Charlotte, I am ashamed +of you.” + +Mrs. Molineux colored high; but she kept her temper, and ignored the +interruption. “Then, if you decided to go into so indelicate a question +at all (and really you were not bound to do so on anonymous +information), why, then, you should have sent for Sir Charles, and +given him the letter, and put him on his honor to tell you the truth. +He would have told you the fact, instead of a garbled version; and the +fact is that before he knew Bella he had a connection, which he +prepared to dissolve, on terms very honorable to himself, as soon as he +engaged himself to your daughter. What is there in that? Why, it is +common, universal, among men of fashion. I am so vexed it ever came to +Bella's knowledge: really it is dreadful to me, as a mother, that such +a thing should have been discussed before that child. Complete +innocence means complete ignorance; and that is how all my girls went +to their husbands. However, what we must do now is to tell her Sir +Charles has satisfied me he was not to blame; and after that the +subject must never be recurred to. Sir Charles has promised me never to +mention it, and no more shall Bella. And now, my dear John, let me +congratulate you. Your daughter has a high-minded lover, who adores +her, with a fine estate: he has been crying to me, poor fellow, as men +will to a woman of my age; and if you have any respect for my +judgment--ask him to dinner.” + +She added that it might be as well if, after dinner, he were to take a +little nap. + +Admiral Bruce did not fall into these views without discussion. I spare +the reader the dialogue, since he yielded at last; only he stipulated +that his sister should do the dinner, and the subsequent siesta. + +Bella returned looking very wistful and anxious. + +“Come here, niece,” said Mrs. Molineux. “Kneel you at my knee. Now +look--me in the face. Sir Charles has loved you, and you only, from the +day he first saw you. He loves you now as much as ever. Do you love +him?” + +“Oh, aunt! aunt!” A shower of kisses, and a tear or two. + +“That is enough. Then dry your eyes, and dress your beautiful hair a +little better than _that;_ for he dines with me to-day!” + +Who so bright and happy now as Bella Bruce? + + + +The dreaded aunt did not stop there. She held that after the peep into +real life Bella Bruce had obtained, for want of a mother's vigilance, +she ought to be a wife as soon as possible. So she gave Sir Charles a +hint that Baden was a very good place to be married in; and from that +moment Sir Charles gave Bella and her father no rest till they +consented. + +Little did Richard Bassett, in England, dream what was going on at +Baden. He now surveyed the chimneys of Huntercombe Hall with +resignation, and even with growing complacency, as chimneys that would +one day be his, since their owner would not be in a hurry to love +again. He shot Sir Charles's pheasants whenever they strayed into his +hedgerows, and he lived moderately and studied health. In a word, +content with the result of his anonymous letter, he confined himself +now to cannily out-living the wrongful heir--his cousin. + +One fine frosty day the chimneys of Huntercombe began to show signs of +life; vertical columns of blue smoke rose in the air, one after +another, till at last there were about forty going. + +Old servants flowed down from London. New ones trickled in, with their +boxes, from the country. Carriages were drawn out into the stable-yard, +horses exercised, and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to live +on his estates, and not alone. + +Richard Bassett went about inquiring cautiously. + +The rumor spread and was confirmed by some little facts. + +At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all smoking, the +church-bells began to peal. + +Richard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply. He found the +village all agog with expectation. + +Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and a flag floated +from the top of Huntercombe House. Murmurs. Distant cheers. Approaching +cheers. The clatter of horses' feet. The roll of wheels. Huntercombe +gates flung wide open by a cluster of grooms and keepers. + +Then on came two outriders, ushered by loud hurrahs, and followed by a +carriage and four that dashed through the village amid peals of delight +from the villagers. The carriage was open, and in it sat Sir Charles +and Bella Bassett. She was lovelier than ever; she dazzled the very air +with her beauty and her glorious hair. The hurrahs of the villagers +made her heart beat; she pressed Sir Charles's hand tenderly, and +literally shone with joy and pride; and so she swept past Richard +Bassett; she saw him directly, shuddered a moment, and half clung to +her husband; then on again, and passed through the open gates amid loud +cheers. She alighted in her own hall, and walked, nodding and smiling +sunnily, through two files of domestics and retainers; and thought no +more of Richard Bassett than some bright bird that has flown over a +rattlesnake and glanced down at him. + + + +But a gorgeous bird cannot always be flying. A snake can sometimes +creep under her perch, and glare, and keep hissing, till she shudders +and droops and lays her plumage in the dust. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GENERALLY deliberate crimes are followed by some great punishment; but +they are also often attended in their course by briefer +chastisements--single strokes from the whip that holds the round dozen +in reserve. These precursors of the grand expiation are sharp but +kindly lashes, for they tend to whip the man out of the wrong road. + +Such a stroke fell on Richard Bassett: he saw Bella Bruce sweep past +him, clinging to her husband, and shuddering at himself. For this, +then, he had plotted and intrigued and written an anonymous letter. The +only woman he had ever loved at all went past him with a look of +aversion, and was his enemy's wife, and would soon be the mother of +that enemy's children, and blot him forever out of the coveted +inheritance. + +The man crept home, and sat by his little fireside, crushed. Indeed, +from that hour he disappeared, and drank his bitter cup alone. + +After a while it transpired in the village that he was very ill. The +clergyman went to visit him, but was not admitted. The only person who +got to see him was his friend Wheeler, a small but sharp attorney, by +whose advice he acted in country matters. This Wheeler was very fond of +shooting, and could not get a crack at a pheasant except on Highmore; +and that was a bond between him and its proprietor. It was Wheeler who +had first told Bassett not to despair of possessing the estates, since +they had inserted Sir Charles's heir at law in the entail. + +This Wheeler found him now so shrunk in body, so pale and haggard in +face, and dejected in mind, that he was really shocked, and asked leave +to send a doctor from a neighboring town. + +“What to do?” said Richard, moodily. “It's my mind; it's not my body. +Ah, Wheeler, it is all over. I and mine shall never have Huntercombe +now.” + +“I'll tell you what it is,” said Wheeler, almost angrily, “you will +have six feet by two of it before long if you go on this way. Was ever +such folly! to fret yourself out of this jolly world because you can't +get one particular slice of its upper crust. Why, one bit of land is as +good as another; and I'll show you how to get land--in this +neighborhood, too. Ay, right under Sir Charles's nose.” + +“Show me that,” said Bassett, gloomily and incredulously. + +“Leave off moping, then, and I will. I advise the bank, you know, and +'Splatchett's' farm is mortgaged up to the eyes. It is not the only +one. I go to the village inns, and pick up all the gossip I hear +there.” + +“How am I to find money to buy land?” + +“I'll put you up to that, too; but you must leave off moping. Hang it, +man, never say die. There are plenty of chances on the cards. Get your +color back, and marry a girl with money, and turn that into land. The +first thing is to leave off grizzling. Why, you are playing the enemy's +game. That can't be right, can it?” + +This remark was the first that really roused the sick man. + +Wheeler had too few clients to lose one. He now visited Bassett almost +daily, and, being himself full of schemes and inventions, he got +Bassett, by degrees, out of his lethargy, and he emerged into daylight +again; but he looked thin, and yellow as a guinea, and he had turned +miser. He kept but one servant, and fed her and himself at Sir Charles +Bassett's expense. He wired that gentleman's hares and rabbits in his +own hedges. He went out with his gun every sunny afternoon, and shot a +brace or two of pheasants, without disturbing the rest; for he took no +dog with him to run and yelp, but a little boy, who quietly tapped the +hedgerows and walked the sunny banks and shaws. They never came home +empty-handed. + +But on those rarer occasions when Sir Charles and his friends beat the +Bassett woods Richard was sure to make a large bag; for he was a cool, +unerring shot, and flushed the birds in hedgerows, slips of underwood, +etc., to which the fairer sportsmen had driven them. + +These birds and the surplus hares he always sold in the market-town, +and put the money into a box. The rabbits he ate, and also squirrels, +and, above all, young hedgehogs: a gypsy taught him how to cook them, +viz., by inclosing them in clay, and baking them in wood embers; then +the bristles adhere to the burned clay, and the meat is juicy. He was +his own gardener, and vegetables cost him next to nothing. + +So he went on through all the winter months, and by the spring his +health and strength were restored. Then he turned woodman, cut down +every stick of timber in a little wood near his house, and sold it; and +then set to work to grub up the roots for fires, and cleared it for +tillage. The sum he received for the wood was much more than he +expected, and this he made a note of. + +He had a strong body, that could work hard all day, a big hate, and a +mania for the possession of land. And so he led a truly Spartan life, +and everybody in the village said he was mad. + +While he led this hard life Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were the +gayest of the gay. She was the beauty and the bride. Visits and +invitations poured in from every part of the country. Sir Charles, +flattered by the homage paid to his beloved, made himself younger and +less fastidious to indulge her; and the happy pair often drove twelve +miles to dinner, and twenty to dine and sleep--an excellent custom in +that country, one of whose favorite toasts is worth recording: “MAY YOU +DINE WHERE YOU PLEASE, AND SLEEP WHERE YOU DINE.” + +They were at every ball, and gave one or two themselves. + +Above all, they enjoyed society in that delightful form which is +confined to large houses. They would have numerous and well-assorted +visitors staying at the house for a week or so, and all dining at a +huge round table. But two o'clock P.M. was the time to see how hosts +and guests enjoyed themselves. The hall door of Huntercombe was +approached by a flight of stone steps, easy of ascent, and about +twenty-four feet wide. At the riding hour the county ladies used to +come, one after another, holding up their riding-habits with one hand, +and perch about this gigantic flight of steps like peacocks, and +chatter like jays, while the servants walked their horses about the +gravel esplanade, and the four-in-hand waited a little in the rear. A +fine champing of bits and fidgeting of thoroughbreds there was, till +all were ready; then the ladies would each put out her little foot, +with charming nonchalance, to the nearest gentleman or groom, with a +slight preference for the grooms, who were more practiced. The man +lifted, the lady sprang at the same time, and into her saddle like a +bird--Lady Bassett on a very quiet pony, or in the carriage to please +some dowager--and away they clattered in high spirits, a regular +cavalcade. It was a hunting county, and the ladies rode well; square +seat, light hand on the snaffle, the curb reserved for cases of +necessity; and, when they had patted the horse on the neck at starting, +as all these coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well-bred +ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which distinguishes ladies +who have ridden all their lives from the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park, +who ride, if riding it can be called, with their elbows uncouthly +fastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit of +their stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a housemaid's, sawing +the poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while the whole body +breathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, “Look at me; I +am on horseback! Be startled at that--as I am! and I have had lessons +from a riding-master. He has taught me how a lady should ride”--in his +opinion, poor devil. + +The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the clattering of these +bright cavalcades, with the music of the women excited by motion, +furnished a picture of wealth and gayety and happy country life that +cheered the whole neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with the stern +Spartan life of him who had persuaded himself he was the rightful owner +of Huntercombe Hall. + +Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found himself a bad one. +One day he made a little mistake, which, owing to his popularity, was +very gently handled by the Bench at their weekly meeting; but still Sir +Charles was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly to Oldfield for +law books, and that gentleman sent him an excellent selection bound in +smooth calf. + +Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except hunting days, +when no squire can work; and as his study was his justice room, he took +care to find an authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, and +rustic offenders, especially poachers and runaway farm servants, used +to think themselves fortunate if they were taken before him and not +before Squire Powys, who was sure to give them the sharp edge of the +law. So now Sir Charles was useful as well as ornamental. + +Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only one little +cloud--there was no sign yet of a son and heir. But let a man be ever +so powerful, it is an awkward thing to have a bitter, inveterate enemy +at his door watching for a chance. Sir Charles began to realize this in +the sixteenth month of his wedded bliss. A small estate called +“Splatchett's” lay on his north side, and a marginal strip of this +property ran right into a wood of his. This strip was wretched land, +and the owner, unable to raise any wheat crop on it, had planted it +with larches. + +Sir Charles had made him a liberal offer for “Splatchett's” about six +years ago; but he had refused point-blank, being then in good +circumstances. + +Sir Charles now received a hint from one of his own gamekeepers that +the old farmer was in a bad way, and talked of selling. So Sir Charles +called on him, and asked him if he would sell “Splatchett's” now. “Why, +I can't sell it twice,” said the old man, testily. “You ha' got it, +han't ye?” It turned out that Richard Bassett had been beforehand. The +bank had pressed for their money, and threatened foreclosure; then +Bassett had stepped in with a good price; and although the conveyance +was not signed, a stamped agreement was, and neither vender nor +purchaser could go back. What made it more galling, the proprietor was +not aware of the feud between the Bassetts, and had thought to please +Sir Charles by selling to one of his name. + +Sir Charles Bassett went home seriously vexed. He did not mean to tell +his wife; but love's eye read his face, love's arm went round his neck, +and love's soft voice and wistful eyes soon coaxed it out of him. “Dear +Charles,” said she, “never mind. It is mortifying; but think how much +you have, and how little that wicked man has. Let him have that farm; +he has lost his self-respect, and that is worth a great many farms. For +my part, I pity the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wife +will try, against him, to make you happy, my own beloved; and I think I +may prove as strong as Mr. Bassett,” said she, with a look of +inspiration. + +Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight a scratch. + +But they had not done with “Splatchett's” yet. Just after Christmas Sir +Charles invited three gentlemen to beat his more distant preserves. +Their guns bellowed in quick succession through the woods, and at last +they reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid shooting, as a +great many cock pheasants had already been seen running ahead. + +But when they got to the end of the wood they found Lawyer Wheeler +standing against a tree just within “Splatchett's” boundary, and one of +their own beaters reported that two boys were stationed in the road, +each tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to that strip +of land, on which the low larches and high grass afforded a strong +covert. + +Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary. + +Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the cock pheasants, one +after another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating. + +The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escaped +him and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firing +from the hard road. Only those were spared that flew northward into +“Splatchett's.” It was a veritable slaughter, planned with judgment, +and carried out in a most ungentlemanlike and unsportsmanlike manner. + +It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After several vain efforts +to restrain himself, he shouldered his gun, and, followed by his +friends, went bursting through the larches to Richard Bassett. + +“Mr. Bassett,” said he, “this is most ungentlernanly conduct.” + +“What is the matter, sir? Am I on your ground?” + +“No, but you are taking a mean advantage of our being out. Who ever +heard of a gentleman beating his boundaries the very day a neighbor was +out shooting, and filling them with his game?” + +“Oh, that is it, is it? When justice is against you you can talk of +law, and when law is against you you appeal to justice. Let us be in +one story or the other, please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me by +birth. You have got them by legal trickery. Keep them while you live. +_They will come to me one day, you know._ Meantime, leave me my little +estate of 'Splatchett's.' For shame, sir; you have robbed me of my +inheritance and my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few cock pheasants? +Why, you have made me so poor they are an object to me now.” + +“Oh!” said Sir Charles, “if you are stealing my game to keep body and +soul together, I pity you. In that case, perhaps you will let my +friends help you fill your larder.” + +Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near at +the sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent. + +“By all means,” said he, adroitly. “Mr. Markham, your father often shot +with mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little +'Splatchett's.' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy +bunglers, and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for the +gentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only want the birds.” + +Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whiz +into the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followed +by a shower of feathers. + +His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He left +them in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home. + +He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she got it all +from him. She was very indignant at many of the things; but as for Sir +Charles, all his cousin's arrows glided off that high-minded gentleman, +except one, and that quivered in his heart. “Yes, Bella,” said he, “he +told me he should inherit these estates. That is because we are not +blessed with children.” + +Lady Bassett sighed. “But we shall be some day. Shall we not?” + +“God knows,” said Sir Charles, gloomily. “I wonder whether there was +really anything unfair done on our side when the entail was cut off?” + +“Is that likely, dearest? Why?” + +“Heaven seems to be on his side.” + +“On the side of a wicked man?” + +“But he may be the father of innocent children.” + +“Why, he is not even married.” + +“He will marry. He will not throw a chance away. It makes my head +dizzy, and my heart sick. Bella, now I can understand two enemies +meeting alone in some solitary place, and one killing the other in a +moment of rage; for when this scoundrel insulted me I remembered his +anonymous letter, and all his relentless malice. Bella, I could have +raised my gun and shot him like a weasel.” + +Lady Bassett screamed faintly, and flung her arms round his neck. “Oh, +Charles, pray to God against such thoughts. You shall never go near +that man again. Don't think of our one disappointment: think of all the +blessings we enjoy. Never mind that wretched man's hate. Think of your +wife's love. Have I not more power to make you happy than he has to +afflict you, my adored?” These sweet words were accompanied by a wife's +divine caresses; with the honey of her voice, and the liquid sunshine +of her loving eyes. Sir Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgot +his one grief and his one enemy for a time. + +Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and thought deeply of +Richard Bassett and “his unrelenting, impenitent malice.” Women of her +fine fiber, when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often +divinations. The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time by +flashes of lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events to +come, And so it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror of +the future and of Richard Bassett crept over her--a terror +disproportioned to his past acts and apparent power. Perhaps she was +oppressed by having an enemy--she, who was born to be loved. At all +events, she was full of feminine divinations and forebodings, and saw, +by flashes, many a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver and strike the +beloved breast. It had already discharged one that had parted them for +a time, and nearly killed Sir Charles. + +Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but left a sober dread +and a strange resolution. This timid creature, stimulated by love, +determined to watch the foe, and defend her husband with all her little +power. All manner of devices passed through her head, but were +rejected, because, if Love said “Do wonders,” Timidity said “Do nothing +that you have not seen other wives do.” So she remained, scheming, and +longing, and fearing, and passive, all day. But the next day she +conceived a vague idea, and, all in a heat, rang for her maid. While +the maid was coming she fell to blushing at her own boldness, and, just +as the maid opened the door, her thermometer fell so low that--she sent +her upstairs for a piece of work. Oh, lame and impotent conclusion! + +Just before luncheon she chanced to look through a window, and to see +the head gamekeeper crossing the park, and coming to the house. Now +this was the very man she wanted to speak to. The sudden temptation +surprised her out of her timidity. She rang the bell again, and sent +for the man. + +That Colossus wondered in his mind, and felt uneasy at an invitation so +novel. However, he clattered into the morning-room, in his velveteen +coat, and leathern gaiters up to his thigh, pulled his front hair, +bobbed his head, and then stood firm in body as was he of Rhodes, but +in mind much abashed at finding himself in her ladyship's presence. + +The lady, however, did not prove so very terrible. “May I inquire your +name, sir?” said she, very respectfully. + +“Moses Moss, my lady.” + +“Mr. Moss, I wish to ask you a question or two. _May_ I?” + +“That you may, my lady.” + +“I want you to explain, if you will be so good, how the proprietor of +'Splatchett's' can shoot all Sir Charles's pheasants.” + +“Lord! my lady, we ain't come down to that. But he do shoot more than +his share, that's sure an' sartain. Well, my lady, if you please, game +is just like Christians: it will make for sunny spots. Highmore has got +a many of them there, with good cover; so we breeds for him. As for +'Splatchett's,' that don't hurt we, my lady; it is all arable land and +dead hedges, with no bottom; only there's one little tongue of it runs +into North Wood, and planted with larch; and, if you please, my lady, +there is always a kind of coarse grass grows under young larches, and +makes a strong cover for game. So, beat North Wood which way you will, +them artful old cocks will run ahead of ye, or double back into them +larches. And you see Mr. Bassett is not a gentleman, like Sir Charles; +he is always a-mouching about, and the biggest poacher in the parish; +and so he drops on to 'em out of bounds.” + +“Is there no way of stopping all this, sir?” + +“We might station a dozen beaters ahead. They would most likely get +shot; but I don't think as they'd mind that much if you had set your +heart on it, my lady. Dall'd if I would, for one.” + +“Oh, Mr. Moss! Heaven forbid that any man should be shot for me. No, +not for all the pheasants in the world. I'll try and think of some +other way. I should like to see the place. _May_ I?” + +“Yes, my lady, and welcome.” + +“How shall I get to it, sir?” + +“You can ride to the 'Woodman's Rest,' my lady, and it is scarce a +stone's-throw from there; but 'tis baddish traveling for the likes of +you.” + +She appointed an hour, rode with her groom to the public-house, and +thence was conducted through bush, through brier, to the place where +her husband had been so annoyed. + +Moss's comments became very intelligible to her the moment she saw the +place. She said very little, however, and rode home. + +Next day she blushed high, and asked Sir Charles for a hundred pounds +to spend upon herself. + +Sir Charles smiled, well pleased, and gave it her, and a kiss into the +bargain. + +“Ah! but,” said she, “that is not all.” + +“I am glad of it. You spend too little money on yourself--a great deal +too little.” + +“That is a complaint you won't have long to make. I want to cut down a +few trees. _May_ I?” + +“Going to build?” + +“Don't ask me. It is for myself.” + +“That is enough. Cut down every stick on the estate if you like. The +barer it leaves us the better.” + +“Ah, Charles, you promised me not. I shall cut with great discretion, I +assure you.” + +“As you please,” said Sir Charles. “If you want to make me happy, deny +yourself nothing. Mind, I shall be angry if you do.” + + Soon after this a gaping quidnunc came to Sir Charles and told him +Lady Bassett was felling trees in North Wood. + +“And pray who has a better right to fell trees in any wood of mine?” + +“But she is building a wall.” + +“And who has a better right to build a wall?” + +With the delicacy of a gentleman he would not go near the place after +this till she asked him; and that was not long, She came into his +study, all beaming, and invited him to a ride. She took him into North +Wood, and showed him her work. Richard Bassett's plantation, hitherto +divided from North Wood only by a boundary scarcely visible, was now +shut off by a brick wall: on Sir Charles's side of that wall every +stick of timber was felled and removed for a distance of fifty yards, +and about twenty yards from the wall a belt of larches was planted, a +little higher than cabbages. + +Sir Charles looked amazed at first, but soon observed how thoroughly +his enemy was defeated. “My poor Bella,” said he, “to think of your +taking all this trouble about such a thing!” He stopped to kiss her +very tenderly, and she shone with joy and innocent pride. “And I never +thought of this! You astonish me, Bella.” + +“Ay,” said she, in high spirits now; “and, what is more, I have +astonished Mr. Moss. He said, 'I wish I had your head-piece, my lady.' +I could have told him Love sharpens a woman's wits; but I reserved that +little adage for you.” + +“It's all mighty fine, fair lady, but you have told me a fib. You said +it was to be all for yourself, and got a hundred pounds out of me.” + +“And so it was for myself, you silly thing. Are you not myself? and the +part of myself I love the best?” And her supple wrist was round his +neck in a moment. + +They rode home together, like lovers, and comforted each other. + + + +Richard Bassett, with Wheeler's assistance, had borrowed money on +Highmore to buy “Splatchett's”; he now borrowed money on +“Splatchett's,” and bought Dean's Wood--a wood, with patches of grass, +that lay on the east of Sir Charles's boundary. He gave seventeen +hundred pounds for it, and sold two thousand pounds' worth of timber +off it the first year. This sounds incredible; but, owing to the custom +of felling only ripe trees, landed proprietors had no sure clew to the +value of all the timber on an acre. Richard Bassett had found this out, +and bought Dean's Wood upon the above terms--_i.e.,_ the vender gave +him the soil and three hundred pounds gratis. He grubbed the roots and +sold them for fuel, and planted larches to catch the overflow of Sir +Charles's game. The grass grew beautifully, now the trees were down, +and he let it for pasture. + +He then, still under Wheeler's advice, came out into the world again, +improved his dress, and called on several county families, with a view +to marrying money. + +Now in the country they do not despise a poor gentleman of good +lineage, and Bassett was one of the oldest names in the county; so +every door was open to him; and, indeed, his late hermit life had +stimulated some curiosity. This he soon turned to sympathy, by telling +them that he was proud but poor. Robbed of the vast estates that +belonged to him by birth, he had been unwilling to take a lower +position. However, Heaven had prospered him; the wrongful heir was +childless; he was the heir at law, and felt he owed it to the estate, +which must return to his line, to assume a little more public +importance than he had done. + +Wherever he was received he was sure to enlarge upon his wrongs; and he +was believed; for he was notoriously the direct heir to Bassett and +Huntercombe, but the family arrangement by which his father had been +bought out was known only to a few. He readily obtained sympathy, and +many persons were disgusted at Sir Charles's illiberality in not making +him some compensation. To use the homely expression of Govett, a small +proprietor, the baronet might as well have given him back one pig out +of his own farrow--_i.e.,_ one of the many farms comprised in that +large estate. + +Sir Charles learned that Richard was undermining him in the county, but +was too proud to interfere; he told Lady Bassett he should say nothing +until some _gentleman_ should indorse Mr. Bassett's falsehoods. + +One day Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were invited to dine and sleep at +Mr. Hardwicke's, distance fifteen miles; they went, and found Richard +Bassett dining there, by Mrs. Hardwicke's invitation, who was one of +those ninnies that fling guests together with no discrimination. + +Richard had expected this to happen sooner or later, so he was +comparatively prepared, and bowed stiffly to Sir Charles. Sir Charles +stared at him in return. This was observed. People were uncomfortable, +especially Mrs. Hardwicke, whose thoughtlessness was to blame for it +all. + +At a very early hour Sir Charles ordered his carriage, and drove home, +instead of staying all night. + +Mrs. Hardwicke, being a fool, must make a little more mischief. She +blubbered to her husband, and he wrote Sir Charles a remonstrance. + +Sir Charles replied that he was the only person aggrieved; Mr. +Hardwicke ought not to have invited a blackguard to meet _him._ + +Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a Bassett called a +blackguard before, and had seen nothing in Mr. Bassett to justify an +epithet so unusual among gentlemen. “And, to be frank with you, Sir +Charles,” said he, “I think this bitterness against a poor gentleman, +whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is not consistent +with your general character, and is, indeed, unworthy of you.” + +To this Sir Charles Bassett replied: + + + +“DEAR MR. HARDWICK--You have applied some remarks to me which I will +endeavor to forget, as they were written in entire ignorance of the +truth. But if we are to remain friends, I expect you to believe me when +I tell you that Mr. Richard Bassett has never been wronged by me or +mine, but has wronged me and Lady Bassett deeply. He is a dishonorable +scoundrel, not entitled to be received in society; and if, after this +assurance, you receive him, I shall never darken your doors again. So +please let me know your decision. + +“I remain + +“Yours truly, + +“CHARLES DYKE BASSETT.” + + + +Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this; but Prudence stepped in. He was one of +the county members, and Sir Charles could command three hundred votes. + +He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles's letter with pain, +but, of course, he could not disbelieve him, and therefore he should +invite Mr. Bassett no more till the matter was cleared. + +But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled at his own +meanness; so he sent Sir Charles's letter to Mr. Richard Bassett. + +Bassett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, raving with insults, +to Sir Charles. + +He was in the act of directing it when Wheeler called on him. Bassett +showed him Sir Charles's letter. Wheeler read it. + +“Now read what I say to him in reply.” + +Wheeler read Bassett's letter, threw it into the fire, and kept it +there with the poker. + +“Lucky I called,” said he, dryly. “Saved you a thousand pounds or so. +You must not write a letter without me.” + +“What, am I to sit still and be insulted? You're a pretty friend.” + +“I am a wise friend. This is a more serious matter than you seem to +think.” + +“Libel?” + +“Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted _me,_ I could not have +dictated a better letter. It closes every chink a defendant in libel +can creep out by. Now take your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke.” + + + +“DEAR SIR--I have received your letter, containing a libel written by +Sir Charles Bassett. My reply will be public. + +“Yours very truly, + +“RICHARD BASSETT.” + + + +“Is that all?” + +“Every syllable. Now mind; you never go to Hardwicke House again; Sir +Charles has got you banished from that house; special damage! There +never was a prettier case for a jury--the rightful heir foully +slandered by the possessor of his hereditary estates.” + +This picture excited Bassett, and he walked about raving with malice, +and longing for the time when he should stand in the witness-box and +denounce his enemy. + +“No, no,” said Wheeler, “leave that to counsel; you must play the mild +victim in the witness-box. Who is the defendant solicitor? We ought to +serve the writ on him at once.” + +“No, no; serve it on himself.” + +“What for? Much better proceed like gentlemen.” + +Bassett got in a passion at being contradicted in everything. “I tell +you,” said he, “the more I can irritate and exasperate this villain the +better. Besides, he slandered me behind my back; and I'll have the writ +served upon himself. I'll do everything I can to take him down. If a +man wants to be my lawyer he must enter into my feelings a little.” + +Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever now, consented somewhat +reluctantly, and called at Huntercombe Hall next day with the writ, and +sent in his card. + +Lady Bassett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. Bassett's friend. + +The butler said he thought it was. + +Lady Bassett went to Sir Charles in his study. “Oh, my dear,” said she, +“here is Mr. Bassett's lawyer.” + +“Well?” + +“Why does he come here?” + +“I don't know.” + +“Don't see him.” + +“Why not?” + +“I am so afraid of Mr. Bassett. He is our evil genius. Let me see this +person instead of you. _May_ I?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“Might I see him _first,_ love?” + +“You will not see him at all.” + +“Charles!” + +“No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to my wife.” + +“But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You know, Charles, I +don't often presume to meddle; but I am in torture about this man. If +you receive him, may I be with you? Then we shall be two to one.” + +“No, no,” said Sir Charles, testily. Then, seeing her beautiful eyes +fill at the refusal and the unusual tone, he relented. “You may be in +hearing if you like. Open that door, and sit in the little room.” + +“Oh, thank you!” + +She stepped into the room--a very small sitting-room. She had never +been in it before, and while she was examining it, and thinking how she +could improve its appearance, Mr. Wheeler was shown into the study. Sir +Charles received him standing, to intimate that the interview must be +brief. This, and the time he had been kept waiting in the hall, roused +Wheeler's bile, and he entered on his subject more bruskly than he had +intended. + +“Sir Charles Bassett, you wrote a letter to Mr. Hardwicke, reflecting +on my client, Mr. Bassett--a most unjustifiable letter.” + +“Keep your opinion to yourself, sir. I wrote a letter, calling him what +he is.” + +“No, sir; that letter is a libel.” + +“It is the truth.” + +“It is a malicious libel, sir; and we shall punish you for it. I hereby +serve you with this copy of a writ. Damages, five thousand pounds.” + +A sigh from the next room passed unnoticed by the men, for their voices +were now raised in anger. + +“And so that is what you came here for. Why did you not go to my +solicitor? You must be as great a blackguard as your client, to serve +your paltry writs on me in my own house.” + +“Not blackguard enough to insult a gentleman in my own house. If you +had been civil I might have accommodated matters; but now I'll make you +smart--ugh!” + +Nothing provokes a high-spirited man more than a menace. Sir Charles, +threatened in his wife's hearing, shot out his right arm with +surprising force and rapidity, and knocked Wheeler down in a moment. + +In came Lady Bassett, with a scream, and saw the attorney lying doubled +up, and Sir Charles standing over him, blowing like a grampus with rage +and excitement. + +But the next moment be staggered and gasped, and she had to support him +to a seat. She rang the bell for aid, then kneeled, and took his +throbbing temples to her wifely bosom. + +Wheeler picked himself up, and, seated on his hams, eyed the pair with +concentrated fury. + +“Aha! You have hurt yourself more than me. Two suits against you now +instead of one.” + +“Conduct this person from the house,” said Lady Bassett to a servant +who entered at that moment. + +“All right, my lady,” said Wheeler; “I'll remind you of that word when +this house belongs to us.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +WITH this bitter reply Wheeler retired precipitately; the shaft pierced +but one bosom; for the devoted wife, with the swift ingenuity of +woman's love, had put both her hands right over her husband's ears that +he might hear no more insults. + +Sir Charles very nearly had a fit; but his wife loosened his neckcloth, +caressed his throbbing head, and applied eau-de-Cologne to his +nostrils. He got better, but felt dizzy for about an hour. She made him +come into her room and lie down; she hung over him, curling as a vine +and light as a bird, and her kisses lit softly as down upon his eyes, +and her words of love and pity murmured music in his ears till he +slept, and that danger passed. + +For a day or two after this both Sir Charles and Lady Bassett avoided +the unpleasant subject. But it had to be faced; so Mr. Oldfield was +summoned to Huntercombe, and all engagements given up for the day, that +he might dine alone with them and talk the matter over. + +Sir Charles thought he could justify; but when it came to the point he +could only prove that Richard had done several ungentleman-like things +of a nature a stout jury would consider trifles. + +Mr. Oldfield said of course they must enter an appearance; and, this +done, the wisest course would be to let him see Wheeler, and try to +compromise the suit. “It will cost you a thousand pounds, Sir Charles, +I dare say; but if it teaches you never to write of an enemy or to an +enemy without showing your lawyer the letter first, the lesson will be +cheap. Somebody in the Bible says, 'Oh, that mine enemy would write a +book!' I say, 'Oh, that he would write a letter--without consulting his +solicitor.” + +It was Lady Bassett's cue now to make light of troubles. “What does it +matter, Mr. Oldfield? All they want is money. Yes, offer them a +thousand pounds to leave him in peace.” + +So next day Mr. Oldfield called on Wheeler, all smiles and civility, +and asked him if he did not think it a pity cousins should quarrel +before the whole county. + +“A great pity,” said Wheeler. “But my client has no alternative. No +gentleman in the county would speak to him if he sat quiet under such +contumely.” + +After beating about the bush the usual time, Oldfield said that Sir +Charles was hungry for litigation, but that Lady Bassett was averse to +it. “In short, Mr. Wheeler, I will try and get Mr. Bassett a thousand +pounds to forego this scandal.” + +“I will consult him, and let you know,” said Wheeler. “He happens to be +in the town.” + +Oldfield called again in an hour. Wheeler told him a thousand pounds +would be accepted, with a written apology. + +Oldfield shook his head. “Sir Charles will never write an apology: +right or wrong, he is too sincere in his conviction.” + +“He will never get a jury to share it.” + +“You must not be too sure of that. You don't know the defense.” + +Oldfield said this with a gravity which did him credit. + +“Do you know it yourself?” said the other keen hand. + +Mr. Oldfield smiled haughtily, but said nothing. Wheeler had hit the +mark. + +“By the by,” said the latter, “there is another little matter. Sir +Charles assaulted me for doing my duty to my client. I mean to sue him. +Here is the writ; will you accept service?” + +“Oh, certainly, Mr. Wheeler and I am glad to find you do not make a +habit of serving writs on gentlemen in person.” + +“Of course not. I did it on a single occasion, contrary to my own wish, +and went in person--to soften the blow--instead of sending my clerk.” + +After this little spar, the two artists in law bade each other farewell +with every demonstration of civility. + +Sir Charles would not apologize. + +The plaintiff filed his declaration. + +The defendant pleaded not guilty, but did not disclose a defense. The +law allows a defendant in libel this advantage. + +Plaintiff joined issue, and the trial was set down for the next +assizes. + +Sir Charles was irritated, but nothing more. Lady Bassett, with a +woman's natural shrinking from publicity, felt it more deeply. She +would have given thousands of her own money to keep the matter out of +court. But her very terror of Richard Bassett restrained her. She was +always thinking about him, and had convinced herself he was the ablest +villain in the wide world; and she thought to herself, “If, with his +small means, he annoys Charles so, what would he do if I were to enrich +him? He would crush us.” + +As the trial drew near she began to hover about Sir Charles in his +study, like an anxious hen. The maternal yearnings were awakened in her +by marriage, and she had no child; so her Charles in trouble was +husband and child. + +Sometimes she would come in and just kiss his forehead, and run out +again, casting back a celestial look of love at the door, and, though +it was her husband she had kissed, she blushed divinely. At last one +day she crept in and said, very timidly, “Charles dear, the anonymous +letter--is not that an excuse for libeling him--as they call telling +the truth?” + +“Why, of course it is. Have you got it?” + +“Dearest, the brave lady took it away.” + +“The brave lady! Who is that?” + +“Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield and pleaded your cause with +papa--oh, so eloquently! Sometimes when I think of it now I feel almost +jealous. Who is she?” + +“From what you have always told me, I think it was the Sister of +Charity who nursed me.” + +“You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that was only put on. +Charles, tell me the truth. What does it matter _now?_ It was some lady +who loved you.” + +“Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to you?” + +“Women's love is so disinterested--sometimes.” + +“No, no; she told me she was a sister of--, and no doubt that is the +truth.” + +“A sister of whom?” + +“No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, on +second thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be better +not to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again.” + +Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would try +to get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Bassett wrote it. + +“I see no harm in that,” said Sir Charles; “only confine your +communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writing +to a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less I +understand it.” + +“There are people who do good by stealth,” suggested Bella timidly. + +“Fiddledeedee!” replied Sir Charles; “you are a goose--I mean an +angel.” + +Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded the +spirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity. + + + +“DEAR MR. OLDFIELD--You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charles +will soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by some +great orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base, +and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dear +husband, in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The +brave lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wish +I dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but I must not, I +suppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor us +with a word of advice as well as the letter. + +“I remain, yours faithfully, + +“BELLA BASSETT.” + + + +This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did what +was expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Bassett's letter, +and some lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty in +a more businesslike way. + +In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country, +hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she would +sent up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she had +kept it at all. + +Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly, +urging expedition. + +This produced an effect that he had not anticipated. + +One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about +five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she must +ride to cover. + +“Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We +shall soon have publicity enough.” + +“That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of, +and you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion.” + +“I obey,” said Bella. + +“And look your best.” + +“I will, dearest.” + +“And be in good spirits.” + +“Must I?” + +“Yes.” + +“I will try. Oh!--oh!--oh!” + +“Why, you poor-spirited little goose! Dry your eyes this moment.” + +“There. Oh!” + +“And kiss me.” + +“There. Ah! kissing you is a great comfort.” + +“It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now run away and put on +your habit. I'll have two grooms out; one with a fresh horse for me, +and one to look after you.” + +“Oh, Charles! Pray don't make me hunt.” + +“No, no. Not so tyrannical as that; hang it all!” + +“Do you know what I do while you are hunting? I pray all the time that +you may not get a fall and be hurt; and I pray God to forgive you and +all the gentlemen for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogs +after one poor little inoffensive thing, to hunt it and kill it--kill +it twice, indeed; once with terror, and then over again with mangling +its poor little body.” + +“This is cheerful,” said Sir Charles, rather ruefully. “We cannot all +be angels, like you. It is a glorious excitement. There! you are too +good for this world; I'll let you off going.” + +“Oh no, dear. I won't be let off, now I know your wish. Only I beg to +ride home as soon as the poor thing runs away. You wouldn't get me out +of the thick covers if I were a fox. I'd run round and round, and call +on all my acquaintances to set them running.” + +As she said this her eyes turned toward each other in a peculiar way, +and she looked extremely foxy; but the look melted away directly. + +The hounds met, and Lady Bassett, who was still the beauty of the +county, was surrounded by riders at first; but as the hounds began to +work, and every now and then a young hound uttered a note, they +cantered about, and took up different posts, as experience suggested. + +At last a fox was found at the other end of the cover, and away +galloped the hunters in that direction, all but four persons, Lady +Bassett, and her groom, who kept respectfully aloof, and a lady and +gentleman who had reined their horses up on a rising ground about a +furlong distant. + +Lady Bassett, thus left alone, happened to look round, and saw the lady +level an opera-glass toward her and look through it. + +As a result of this inspection the lady cantered toward her. She was on +a chestnut gelding of great height and bone, and rode him as if they +were one, so smoothly did she move in concert with his easy, +magnificent strides. + +When she came near Lady Bassett she made a little sweep and drew up +beside her on the grass. + +There was no mistaking that tall figure and commanding face. It was the +brave lady. Her eyes sparkled; her cheek was slightly colored with +excitement; she looked healthier and handsomer than ever, and also more +feminine, for a reason the sagacious reader may perhaps discern if he +attends to the dialogue. + +_“So,”_ said she, without bowing or any other ceremony, “that little +rascal is troubling you again.” + +Lady Bassett colored and panted, and looked lovingly at her, before she +could speak. At last she said, “Yes; and you have come to help us +again.” + +“Well, the lawyer said there was no time to lose; so I have brought you +the anonymous letter.” + +“Oh, thank you, madam, thank you.” + +“But I'm afraid it will be of no use unless you can prove Mr. Bassett +wrote it. It is in a disguised hand.” + +“But you found him out by means of another letter.” + +“Yes; but I can't give you that other letter to have it read in a court +of law, because--Do you see that gentleman there?” + +“Yes.” + +“That is Marsh.” + +“Oh, is it?” + +“He is a fool; but I am going to marry him. I have been very ill since +I saw you, and poor Marsh nursed me. Talk of women nurses! If ever you +are ill in earnest, as I was, write to me, and I'll send you Marsh. Oh, +I have no words to tell you his patience, his forbearance, his +watchfulness, his tenderness to a sick woman. It is no use--I must +marry him; and I could have no letter published that would give him +pain.” + +“Of course not. Oh, madam, do you think I am capable of doing anything +that would give you pain, or dear Mr. Marsh either?” + +“No, no; you are a good woman.” + +“Not half so good as you are.” + +“You don't know what you are saying.” + +“Oh yes, I do.” + +“Then I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good-by, Lady Bassett.” + +“Must you leave me so soon? Will you not visit us? May I not know the +name of so good a friend?” + +“Next week I shall be _Mrs. Marsh.”_ + +“And you will give me the great pleasure of having you at my house--you +and your husband?” + +The lady showed some agitation at this--an unusual thing for her. She +faltered: “Some day, perhaps, if I make him as good a wife as I hope +to. What a lady you are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; but +you are a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of myself; and they +are all coming this way, by the dogs' music.” + +“Won't you kiss me, after bringing me this?” + +“Kiss you?” and she opened her eyes. + +“If you please,” said Lady Bassett, bending toward her, with eyes full +of gratitude and tenderness. + +Then the other woman took her by the shoulders, and plunged her great +gray orbs into Bella's. + +They kissed each other. + +At that contact the stranger seemed to change her character all in a +moment. She strained Bella to her bosom and kissed her passionately, +and sobbed out, wildly, “O God! you are good to sinners. This is the +happiest hour of my life--it is a forerunner. Bless you, sweet dove of +innocence! You will be none the worse, and I am all the better--Ah! +Sir Charles. Not one word about me to him.” + +And with these words, uttered with sudden energy, she spurred her great +horse, leaped the ditch, and burst through the dead hedge into the +wood, and winded out of sight among the trees. + +Sir Charles came up astonished. “Why, who was that?” + +Bella's eyes began to rove, as I have before described; but she replied +pretty promptly, “The brave lady herself; she brought me the anonymous +letter for your defense.” + +“Why, how came she to know about it?” + +“She did not tell me that. She was in a great hurry. Her fiance was +waiting for her.” + +“Was it necessary to kiss her in the hunting-field?” said Sir Charles, +with something very like a frown. + +“I'd kiss the whole field, grooms and all, if they did you a great +service, as that dear lady has,” said Bella. The words were brave, but +the accent piteous. + +“You are excited, Bella. You had better ride home,” said Sir Charles, +gently enough, but moodily. + +“Thank you, Charles,” said Bella, glad to escape further examination +about this mysterious lady. She rode home accordingly. There she found +Mr. Oldfield, and showed him the anonymous letter. + +He read it, and said it was a defense, but a disagreeable one. “Suppose +he says he wrote it, and the facts were true?” + +“But I don't think he will confess it. He is not a gentleman. He is +very untruthful. Can we not make this a trap to catch him, sir? _He_ +has no scruples.” + +Oldfield looked at her in some surprise at her depth. + +“We must get hold of his handwriting,” said he. “We must ransack the +local banks; find his correspondents.” + +“Leave all that to me,” said Lady Bassett, in a low voice. + + Mr. Oldfield thought he might as well please a beautiful and loving +woman, if he could; so he gave her something to do for her husband. +“Very well; collect all the materials of comparison you can--letters, +receipts, etc. Meantime I will retain the two principal experts in +London, and we will submit your materials to them the night before the +trial.” + +Lady Bassett, thus instructed, drove to all the banks, but found no +clerk acquainted with Mr. Bassett's handwriting. He did not bank with +anybody in the county. + +She called on several persons she thought likely to possess letters or +other writings of Richard Bassett. Not a scrap. + +Then she began to fear. The case looked desperate. + +Then she began to think. And she thought very hard indeed, especially +at night. + +In the dead of night she had an idea. She got up, and stole from her +husband's side, and studied the anonymous letter. + +Next day she sat down with the anonymous letter on her desk, and +blushed, and trembled, and looked about like some wild animal scared. +She selected from the anonymous letter several words--“character, +abused, Sir, Charles, Bassett, lady, abandoned, friend, whether, ten, +slanderer” etc.--and wrote them on a slip of paper. Then she locked up +the anonymous letter. Then she locked the door. Then she sat down to a +sheet of paper, and, after some more wild and furtive glances all +around, she gave her whole mind to writing a letter. + +And to whom did she write, think you? + +To Richard Bassett. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +“MR. BASSETT--I am sure both yourself and my husband will suffer in +public estimation, unless some friend comes between you, and this +unhappy lawsuit is given up. + +“Do not think me blind nor presumptuous; Sir Charles, when he wrote +that letter, had reason to believe you had done him a deep injury by +unfair means. Many will share that opinion if this cause is tried. You +are his cousin, and his heir at law. I dread to see an unhappy feud +inflamed by a public trial. Is there no personal sacrifice by which I +can compensate the affront you have received, without compromising Sir +Charles Bassett's veracity, who is the soul of honor? + +“I am, yours obediently, + +“BELLA BASSETT.” + + + +She posted this letter, and Richard Bassett had no sooner received it +than he mounted his horse and rode to Wheeler's with it. + +That worthy's eyes sparkled. “Capital!” said he. “We must draw her on, +and write an answer that will read well in court.” + +He concocted an epistle just the opposite of what Richard Bassett, left +to himself, would have written. Bassett copied, and sent it as his own. + + + +“LADY BASSETT--I thank you for writing to me at this moment, when I am +weighed down by slander. Your own character stands so high that you +would not deign to write to me if you believed the abuse that has been +lavished on me. With you I deplore this family feud. It is not of my +seeking; and as for this lawsuit, it is one in which the plaintiff is +really the defendant. Sir Charles has written a defamatory letter, +which has closed every house in this county to his victim. If, as I now +feel sure, you disapprove the libel, pray persuade him to retract it. +The rest our lawyers can settle, + +“Yours very respectfully, + +“RICHARD BASSETT.” + + + +When Lady Bassett read this, she saw she had an adroit opponent. Yet +she wrote again: + + + +“MR. BASSETT--There are limits to my influence with Sir Charles. I have +no power to make him say one word against his convictions. + +“But my lawyer tells me you seek pecuniary compensation for an affront. +I offer you, out of my own means, which are ample, that which you +seek--offer it freely and heartily; and I honestly think you had better +receive it from me than expose yourself to the risks and mortifications +of a public trial. + +“I am, yours obediently, + +“BELLA BASSETT.” + + + +“LADY BASSETT--You have fallen into a very natural error. It is true I +sue Sir Charles Bassett for money; but that is only because the law +allows me my remedy in no other form. What really brings me into court +is the defense of my injured honor. How do you meet me? You say, +virtually, 'Never mind your character: here is money.' Permit me to +decline it on such terms. + +“A public insult cannot be cured in private. + +“Strong in my innocence, and my wrongs, I court what you call the risks +of a public trial. + +“Whatever the result, _you_ have played the honorable and womanly part +of peacemaker; and it is unfortunate for your husband that your gentle +influence is limited by his vanity, which perseveres in a cruel +slander, instead of retracting it while there is yet time. + +“I am, madam, yours obediently, + +“RICHARD BASSETT.” + + + +“MR. BASSETT--I retire from a correspondence which appears to be +useless, and might, if prolonged, draw some bitter remark from me, as +it has from you. + +“After the trial, which you court and I deprecate, you will perhaps +review my letters with a more friendly eye. + +“I am, yours obediently, + +“BELLA BASSETT.” + + + +In this fencing-match between a lawyer and a lady each gained an +advantage. The lawyer's letters, as might have been expected, were the +best adapted to be read to a jury; but the lady, subtler in her way, +obtained, at a small sacrifice, what she wanted, and that without +raising the slightest suspicion of her true motive in the +correspondence. + +She announced her success to Mr. Oldfield; but, in the midst of it, she +quaked with terror at the thought of what Sir Charles would say to her +for writing to Mr. Bassett at all. + +She now, with the changeableness of her sex, hoped and prayed Mr. +Bassett would admit the anonymous letter, and so all her subtlety and +pains prove superfluous. + +Quaking secretly, but with a lovely face and serene front, she took her +place at the assizes, before the judge, and got as near him as she +could. + +The court was crowded, and many ladies present. + +_Bassett v. Bassett_ was called in a loud voice; there was a hum of +excitement, then a silence of expectation, and the plaintiff's counsel +rose to address the jury. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +“MAY it please your Lordship: Gentlemen of the Jury--The plaintiff in +this case is Richard Bassett, Esquire, the direct and lineal +representative of that old and honorable family, whose monuments are to +be seen in several churches in this county, and whose estates are the +largest, I believe, in the county. He would have succeeded, as a matter +of course, to those estates, but for an arrangement made only a year +before he was born, by which, contrary to nature and justice, he was +denuded of those estates, and they passed to the defendant. The +defendant is nowise to blame for that piece of injustice; but he +profits by it, and it might be expected that his good fortune would +soften his heart toward his unfortunate relative. I say that if +uncommon tenderness might be expected to be shown by anybody to this +deserving and unfortunate gentleman, it would be by Sir Charles +Bassett, who enjoys his cousin's ancestral estates, and can so well +appreciate what that cousin has lost by no fault of his own.” + +“Hear! hear!” + +“Silence in the court!” + +_The Judge._--I must request that there may be no manifestation of +feeling. + +_Counsel._--I will endeavor to provoke none, my lord. It is a very +simple case, and I shall not occupy you long. Well, gentlemen, Mr. +Bassett is a poor man, by no fault of his; but if he is poor, he is +proud and honorable. He has met the frowns of fortune like a +gentleman--like a man. He has not solicited government for a place. He +has not whined nor lamented. He has dignified unmerited poverty by +prudence and self-denial; and, unable to forget that he is a Bassett, +he has put by a little money every year, and bought a small estate or +two, and had even applied to the Lord-Lieutenant to make him a justice +of the peace, when a most severe and unexpected blow fell upon him. +Among those large proprietors who respected him in spite of his humbler +circumstances was Mr. Hardwicke, one of the county members. Well, +gentlemen, on the 21st of last May Mr. Bassett received a letter from +Mr. Hardwicke inclosing one purporting to be from Sir Charles Bassett-- + +_The Judge._--Does Sir Charles Bassett admit the letter? + +_Defendant's Counsel_ (after a word with Oldfield).--Yes, my lord. + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--A letter admitted to be written by Sir Charles +Bassett. That letter shall be read to you. + +The letter was then read. + +The counsel resumed: “Conceive, if you can, the effect of this blow, +just as my unhappy and most deserving client was rising a little in the +world. I shall prove that it excluded him from Mr. Hardwicke's house, +and other houses too. He is a man of too much importance to risk +affronts. He has never entered the door of any gentleman in this county +since his powerful relative published this cruel libel. He has drawn +his Spartan cloak around him, and he awaits your verdict to resume that +place among you which is due to him in every way--due to him as the +heir in direct line to the wealth, and, above all, to the honor of the +Bassetts; due to him as Sir Charles Bassett's heir at law; and due to +him on account of the decency and fortitude with which he has borne +adversity, and with which he now repels foul-mouthed slander.” + +“Hear! hear!” + +“Silence in the court!” + +“I have done, gentlemen, for the present. Indeed, eloquence, even if I +possessed it, would be superfluous; the facts speak for +themselves.--Call James Hardwicke, Esq.” + +Mr. Hardwicke proved the receipt of the letter from Sir Charles, and +that he had sent it to Mr. Bassett; and that Mr. Bassett had not +entered his house since then, nor had he invited him. + +Mr. Bassett was then called, and, being duly trained by Wheeler, +abstained from all heat, and wore an air of dignified dejection. His +counsel examined him, and his replies bore out the opening statement. +Everybody thought him sure of a verdict. + +He was then cross-examined. Defendant's counsel pressed him about his +unfair way of shooting. The judge interfered, and said that was +trifling. If there was no substantial defense, why not settle the +matter? + +“There is a defense, my lord.” + +“Then it is time you disclosed it.” + +“Very well, my lord. Mr. Bassett, did you ever write an anonymous +letter?” + +“Not that I remember.” + +“Oh, that appears to you a trifle. It is not so considered.” + +_The Judge._--Be more particular in your question. + +“I will, my lord.--Did you ever write an anonymous letter, to make +mischief between Sir Charles and Lady Bassett?” + +“Never,” said the witness; but he turned pale. + +“Do you mean to say you did not write this letter to Miss Bruce? Look +at the letter, Mr. Bassett, before you reply.” + +Bassett cast one swift glance of agony at Wheeler; then braced himself +like iron. He examined the letter attentively, turned it over, lived an +age, and said it was not his writing. + +“Do you swear that?” + +“Certainly.” + +_Defendant's Counsel._--I shall ask your lordship to take down that +reply. If persisted in, my client will indict the witness for perjury. + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--Don't threaten the witness as well as insult +him, please. + +_The Judge._--He is an educated man, and knows the duty he owes to God +and the defendant.--Take time, Mr. Bassett, and recollect. Did you +write that letter?” + +“No, my lord.” + +Counsel waited for the judge to note the reply, then proceeded. + +“You have lately corresponded with Lady Bassett, I think?” + +“Yes. Her ladyship opened a correspondence with me.” + +“It is a lie!” roared Sir Charles Bassett from the door of the grand +jury room. + +“Silence in the court!” + +_The Judge._--Who made that unseemly remark? + +_Sir Charles._--I did, my lord. My wife never corresponded with the +cur. + +_The Plaintiff._--It is only one insult more, gentlemen, and as false +as the rest. Permit me, my lord. My own counsel would never have put +the question. I would not, for the world, give Lady Bassett pain; but +Sir Charles and his counsel have extorted the truth from me. Her +ladyship did open a correspondence with me, and a friendly one. + +_The Plaintiff's Counsel._--Will your lordship ask whether that was +after the defendant had written the libel? + +The question was put, and answered in the affirmative. + +Lady Bassett hid her face in her hands. Sir Charles saw the movement, +and groaned aloud. + +_The Judge._--I beg the case may not be encumbered with irrelevant +matter. + +Counsel replied that the correspondence would be made evidence in the +case. _(To the witness.)_--“You wrote this letter to Lady Bassett?” + +“Yes.” + +“And every word in it?” + +“And every word in it,” faltered Bassett, now ashy pale, for he began +to see the trap. + +“Then you wrote this word 'character,' and this word 'injured,' and +this word--” + +_The Judge_ (peevishly).--He tells you he wrote every word in those +letters to Lady Bassett.--What more would you have? + +_Counsel._--If your lordship will be good enough to examine the +correspondence, and compare those words in it I have underlined with +the same words in the anonymous letter, you will perhaps find I know my +business better than you seem to think. (The counsel who ventured on +this remonstrance was a sergeant.) + +“Brother Eitherside,” said the judge, with a charming manner, “you +satisfied me of that, to my cost, long ago, whenever I had you against +me in a case. Please hand me the letters.” + +While the judge was making a keen comparison, counsel continued the +cross-examination. + +“You are aware that this letter caused a separation between Sir Charles +Bassett and the lady he was engaged to?” + +“I know nothing about it.” + +“Indeed! Well, were you acquainted with the Miss Somerset mentioned in +this letter?” + +“Slightly.” + +“You have been at her house?” + +“Once or twice.” + +“Which? Twice is double as often as once, you know.” + +“Twice.” + +“No more?” + +“Not that I recollect.” + +“You wrote to her?” + +“I may have.” + +“Did you, or did you not?” + +“I did.” + +“What was the purport of that letter?” + +“I can't recollect at this distance of time.” + +“On your oath, sir, did you not write urging her to co-operate with you +to keep Sir Charles Bassett from marrying his affianced, Miss Bella +Bruce, to whom that anonymous letter was written with the same object?” + +The perspiration now rolled in visible drops down the tortured liar's +face. Yet still, by a gigantic effort, he stood firm, and even planted +a blow. + +“I did not write the anonymous letter. But I believe I told Miss +Somerset I loved Miss Bruce, and that _her_ lover was robbing me of +mine, as he had robbed me of everything else.” + +“And that was all you said--on your oath?” + +“All I can recollect.” With this the strong man, cowed, terrified, +expecting his letter to Somerset to be produced, and so the iron chain +of evidence completed, gasped out, “Man, you tear open all my wounds at +once!” and with this burst out sobbing, and lamenting aloud that he had +ever been born. + +Counsel waited calmly till he should be in a condition to receive +another dose. + +“Oh, will nobody stop this cruel trial?” said Lady Bassett, with the +tears trickling down her face. + +The judge heard this remark without seeming to do so. + +He said to defendant's counsel, “Whatever the truth may be, you have +proved enough to show Sir Charles Bassett might well have an honest +conviction that Mr. Bassett had done a dastardly act. Whether a jury +would ever agree on a question of handwriting must always be doubtful. +Looking at the relationship of the parties, is it advisable to carry +this matter further? If I might advise the gentlemen, they would each +consent to withdraw a juror.” + +Upon this suggestion the counsel for both parties put their heads +together in animated whispers; and during this the judge made a remark +to the jury, intended for the public: “Since Lady Bassett's name has +been drawn into this, I must say that I have read her letters to Mr. +Bassett, and they are such as she could write without in the least +compromising her husband. Indeed, now the defense is disclosed, they +appear to me to be wise and kindly letters, such as only a good wife, a +high-bred lady, and a true Christian could write in so delicate a +matter.” + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--My lord, we are agreed to withdraw a juror. + +_Defendant's Counsel._--Out of respect for your lordship's advice, and +not from any doubt of the result on _our_ part. + +_The Crier._--WACE _v._ HALIBURTON! + +And so the car of justice rolled on till it came to Wheeler v. Bassett. + +This case was soon disposed of. + +Sir Charles Bassett was dignified and calm in the witness-box, and +treated the whole matter with high-bred nonchalance, as one unworthy of +the attention the Court was good enough to bestow on it. The judge +disapproved the assault, but said the plaintiff had drawn it on himself +by unprofessional conduct, and by threatening a gentleman in his own +house. Verdict for the plaintiff--40s. The judge refused to certify +for costs. + +Lady Bassett, her throat parched with excitement, drove home, and +awaited her husband's return with no little anxiety. As soon as she +heard him in his dressing-room she glided in and went down on her knees +to him. “Pray, pray don't scold me; I couldn't bear you to be defeated, +Charles.” + +Sir Charles raised her, but did not kiss her. + +“You think only of me,” said he, rather sadly. “It is a sorry victory, +too dearly bought.” + +Then she began to cry. + +Sir Charles begged her not to cry; but still he did not kiss her, nor +conceal his mortification: he hardly spoke to her for several days. + +She accepted her disgrace pensively and patiently. She thought it all +over, and felt her husband was right, and loved her like a man. But she +thought, also, that she was not very wrong to love him in her way. +Wrong or not, she felt she could not sit idle and see his enemy defeat +him. + +The coolness died away by degrees, with so much humility on one side +and so much love on both: but the subject was interdicted forever. + +A week after the trial Lady Bassett wrote to Mrs. Marsh, under cover to +Mr. Oldfield, and told her how the trial had gone, and, with many +expressions of gratitude, invited her and her husband to Huntercombe +Hall. She told Sir Charles what she had done, and he wore a very +strange look. “Might I suggest that we have them alone?” said he dryly. + +“By all means,” said Lady Bassett. “I don't want to share my paragon +with anybody.” + +In due course a reply came; Mr. and Mrs. Marsh would avail themselves +some day of Lady Bassett's kindness: at present they were going abroad. +The letter was written by a man's hand. + +About this time Oldfield sent Sir Charles Miss Somerset's deed, +canceled, and told him she had married a man of fortune, who was +devoted to her, and preferred to take her without any dowry. + + + +Bassett and Wheeler went home, crestfallen, and dined together. They +discussed the two trials, and each blamed the other. They quarreled and +parted: and Wheeler sent in an enormous bill, extending over five +years. Eighty-five items began thus: “Attending you at your house for +several hours, on which occasion you asked my advice as to whether--” + etc. + +Now as a great many of these attendances had been really to shoot game +and dine on rabbits at Bassett's expense, he thought it hard the +conversation should be charged and the rabbits not. + +Disgusted with his defeat, and resolved to evade this bill, he +discharged his servant, and put a retired soldier into his house, armed +him with a blunderbuss, and ordered him to keep all doors closed, and +present the weapon aforesaid at all rate collectors, tax collectors, +debt collectors, and applicants for money to build churches or convert +the heathen; but not to _fire_ at anybody except his friend Wheeler, +nor at him unless he should try to shove a writ in at some chink of the +building. + +This done, he went on his travels, third-class, with his eyes always +open, and his heart full of bitterness. + +Nothing happened to Richard Bassett on his travels that I need relate +until one evening when he alighted at a small commercial inn in the +city of York, and there met a person whose influence on the events I am +about to relate seems at this moment incredible to me, though it is +simple fact. + +He found the commercial room empty, and rang the bell. In came the +waiter, a strapping girl, with coal-black eyes and brows to match, and +a brown skin, but glowing cheeks. + +They both started at sight of each other. It was Polly Somerset. + +“Why, Polly! How d'ye do? How do you come here?” + +“It's along of you I'm here, young man,” said Polly, and began to +whimper. She told him her sister had found out from the page she had +been colloguing with him, and had never treated her like a sister after +that. “And when she married a gentleman she wouldn't have me aside her +for all I could say, but she did pack me off into service, and here I +be.” + +The girl was handsome, and had a liking for him. Bassett was idle, and +time hung heavy on his hands: he stayed at the inn a fortnight, more +for Polly's company than anything: and at last offered to put her into +a vacant cottage on his own little estate of Highmore. But the girl was +shrewd, and had seen a great deal of life this last three years; she +liked Richard in her way, but she saw he was all self, and she would +not trust him. “Nay,” said she, “I'll not break with Rhoda for any +young man in Britain. If I leave service she will never own me at all: +she is as hard as iron.” + +“Well, but you might come and take service near me, and then we could +often get a word together.” + +“Oh, I'm agreeable to that: you find me a good place. I like an inn +best; one sees fresh faces.” + +Bassett promised to manage that for her. On reaching home he found a +conciliatory letter from Wheeler, coupled with his permission to tax +the bill according to his own notion of justice. This and other letters +were in an outhouse; the old soldier had not permitted them to +penetrate the fortress. He had entered into the spirit of his +instructions, and to him a letter was a probable hand-grenade. + +Bassett sent for Wheeler; the bill was reduced, and a small payment +made; the rest postponed till better times. Wheeler was then consulted +about Polly, and he told his client the landlady of the “Lamb” wanted a +good active waitress; he thought he could arrange that little affair. + +In due course, thanks to this artist, Mary Wells, hitherto known as +Polly Somerset, landed with her boxes at the “Lamb “; and with her +quick foot, her black eyes, and ready tongue soon added to the +popularity of the inn. Richard Bassett, Esq., for one, used to sup +there now and then with his friend Wheeler, and even sleep there after +supper. + +By-and-by the vicar of Huntercombe wanted a servant, and offered to +engage Mary Wells. + +She thought twice about that. She could neither write nor read, and +therefore was dreadfully dull without company; the bustle of an inn, +and people coming and going, amused her. However, it was a temptation +to be near Richard Bassett; so she accepted at last. Unable to write, +she could not consult him; and she made sure he would be delighted. + +But when she got into the village the prudent Mr. Bassett drew in his +horns, and avoided her. She was mortified and very angry. She revenged +herself on her employer; broke double her wages. The vicar had never +been able to convert a smasher; so he parted with her very readily to +Lady Bassett, with a hint that she was rather unfortunate in glass and +china. + +In that large house her spirits rose, and, having a hearty manner and a +clapper tongue, she became a general favorite. + +One day she met Mr. Bassett in the village, and he seemed delighted at +the sight of her, and begged her to meet him that night at a certain +place where Sir Charles's garden was divided from his own by a ha-ha. +It was a very secluded spot, shut out from view, even in daylight, by +the trees and shrubs and the winding nature of the walk that led to it; +yet it was scarcely a hundred yards from Huntercombe Hall. + +Mary Wells came to the tryst, but in no amorous mood. She came merely +to tell Mr. Bassett her mind, viz., that he was a shabby fellow, and +she had had her cry, and didn't care a straw for him now. And she did +tell him so, in a loud voice, and with a flushed cheek. + +But he set to work, humbly and patiently, to pacify her; he represented +that, in a small house like the vicarage, every thing is known; he +should have ruined her character if he had not held aloof. “But it is +different now,” said he. “You can run out of Huntercombe House, and +meet me here, and nobody be the wiser.” + +“Not I,” said Mary Wells, with a toss. “The worse thing a girl can do +is to keep company with a gentleman. She must meet him in holes and +corners, and be flung off, like an old glove, when she has served his +turn.” + +“That will never happen to you, Polly dear. We must be prudent for the +present; but I shall be more my own master some day, and then you will +see how I love you.” + +“Seeing is believing,” said the girl, sullenly. “You be too fond of +yourself to love the likes o' me.” + +Such was the warning her natural shrewdness gave her. But perseverance +undermined it. Bassett so often threw out hints of what he would do +some day, mixed with warm protestations of love, that she began almost +to hope he would marry her. She really liked him; his fine figure and +his color pleased her eye, and he had a plausible tongue to boot. + +As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his senses; but, for +his heart, she had little place in that. What he courted her for just +now was to keep him informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall. +His morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to Mary +Wells's gossip. He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappoint +him. She never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies or +exaggerations. She was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits, +and greeted him thus: “What d'ye think? I'm riz! Mrs. Eden, that +dresses my lady's hair, she took ill yesterday, and I told the +housekeeper I was used to dress hair, and she told my lady. If you +didn't please our Rhoda at that, 'twas as much as your life was worth. +You mustn't be thinking of your young man with her hair in your hand, +or she'd rouse you with a good crack on the crown with a hair-brush. So +I dressed my lady's hair, and handled it like old chaney; by the same +token, she is so pleased with me you can't think. She is a real lady; +not like our Rhoda. Speaks as civil to me as if I was one of her own +sort; and, says she, 'I should like to have you about me, if I might.' +I had it on my tongue to tell her she was mistress; but I was a little +skeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me about her; I +see it in her eye.” + +Bassett was delighted at this news, but he did not speak his mind all +at once; the time was not come. He let the gypsy rattle on, and bided +his time. He flattered her, and said he envied Lady Bassett to have +such a beautiful girl about her. “I'll let my hair grow,” said he. + +“Ay, do,” said she, “and then I'll pull it for you.” + +This challenge ended in a little struggle for a kiss, the sincerity of +which was doubtful. Polly resisted vigorously, to be sure, but briefly, +and, having given in, returned it. + +One day she told him Sir Charles had met her plump, and had given a +great start. + +This made Bassett very uneasy. “Confound it, he will turn you away. He +will say, 'This girl knows too much.'” + +“How simple you be!” said the girl. “D'ye think I let him know? Says +he, 'I think I have seen you before.' 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'I was +housemaid here before my lady had me to dress her.' 'No,' says he, 'I +mean in London--in Mayfair, you know.' I declare you might ha' knocked +me down wi' a feather. So I looks in his face, as cool as marble, and I +said, 'No, sir; I never had the luck to see London, sir,' says I. 'All +the better for you,' says he; and he swallowed it like spring water, as +sister Rhoda used to say when she told one and they believed it.” + +“You are a clever girl,” said Bassett. “He would have turned you out of +the house if he had known who you were.” + +She disappointed him in one thing; she was bad at answering questions. +Morally she was not quite so great an egotist as himself, but +intellectually a greater. Her volubility was all egotism. She could +scarcely say ten words, except about herself. So, when Bassett +questioned her about Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, she said “Yes,” or +“No,” or “I don't know,” and was off at a tangent to her own sayings +and doings. + +Bassett, however, by great patience and tact, extracted from her at +last that Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were both sore at not having +children, and that Lady Bassett bore the blame. + +“That is a good joke,” said he. “The smoke-dried rake! Polly, you might +do me a good turn. You have got her ear; open her eyes for me. What +might not happen?” His eyes shone fiendishly. + +The young woman shook her head. “Me meddle between man and wife! I'm +too fond of my place.” + +“Ah, you don't love me as I love you. You think only of yourself.” + +“And what do you think of? Do you love me well enough to find me a +better place, if you get me turned out of Huntercombe Hall?” + +“Yes, I will; a much better.” + +“That is a bargain.” + +Mary Wells was silly in some things, but she was very cunning, too; and +she knew Richard Bassett's hobby. She told him to mind himself, as well +as Sir Charles, or perhaps he would die a bachelor, and so his flesh +and blood would never inherit Huntercombe. This remark entered his +mind. The trial, though apparently a drawn battle, had been fatal to +him--he was cut; he dared not pay his addresses to any lady in the +county, and he often felt very lonely now. So everything combined to +draw him toward Mary Wells--her swarthy beauty, which shone out at +church like a black diamond among the other women; his own loneliness; +and the pleasure these stolen meetings gave him. Custom itself is +pleasant, and the company of this handsome chatterbox became a habit, +and an agreeable one. The young woman herself employed a woman's arts; +she was cold and loving by turns till at last he gave her what she was +working for, a downright promise of marriage. She pretended not to +believe him, and so led him further; he swore he would marry her. + +He made one stipulation, however. She really must learn to read and +write first. + +When he had sworn this Mary became more uniformly affectionate; and as +women who have been in service learn great self-government, and can +generally please so long as it serves their turn, she made herself so +agreeable to him that he began really to have a downright liking for +her--a liking bounded, of course, by his incurable selfishness; but as +for his hobby, that was on her side. + +Now learning to read and write was wormwood to Mary Wells; but the +prize was so great; she knew all about the Huntercombe estates, partly +from her sister, partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongs +even to this girl.) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, even on the +severe condition of becoming a scholar. She set about it as follows: +One day that she was doing Lady Bassett's hair she sighed several +times. This was to attract the lady's attention, and it succeeded. + +“Is there anything the matter, Mary?” + +“No, my lady.” + +“I think there is.” + +“Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my own people's +fault for not sending of me to school. I might be married to-morrow if +I could only read and write.” + +“And can you not?” + +“No, my lady.” + +“Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays.” + +“La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village.” + +“Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not too +late. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. Shall +I arrange for you to go to it?” + +“Thank you, my lady. But then--” + +“Well?” + +“All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me.” + +“The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?” + +“Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, +either. But I won't be his wife to shame him.” (Another sigh.) + +“Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her heart, “you shall +not be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will try +and teach you myself.” + +Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Bassett received them rather coldly. +She gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day; +and Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half an +hour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She was +quick, and learned very fast. In two months she could read a great deal +more than she could understand, and could write slowly but very +clearly. + +Now by this time Lady Bassett had become so interested in her pupil +that she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts of +the toilet when her services were not required. + +Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England. +Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She never +said one word to Bassett about Lady Bassett's lessons. She kept strict +silence till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line to +say she had learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he would +keep his promise. + +Bassett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, he +suspected it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their next +meeting, who had written that note for her. + +“You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like,” was the reply. + +Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. At +present, however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taught +her. + +“I had to teach myself. Nobody cares enough for me to teach me. Well, +I'll forgive you if you will write me a nice letter for mine.” + +“What! when we can meet here and say everything?” + +“No matter; I have written to you, and you might write to me. They all +get letters, except me; and the jades hold 'em up to me: they see I +never get one. When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It will +only cost you a penny. I'm sure I don't ask you for much.” + +Bassett humored her in this, and in one of his letters called her his +wife that was to be. + +This pleased her so much that the next time they met she hung round his +neck with a good deal of feminine grace. + +Richard Bassett was a man who now lived in the future. Everybody in the +county believed he had written that anonymous letter, and he had no +hope of shining by his own light. It was bitter to resign his personal +hopes; but he did, and sullenly resolved to be obscure himself, but the +father of the future heirs of Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, +and lay the blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had blackened him +in the county, and put it out of his power to win a lady's hand. + +He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he had not the courage +to tell him all at once what a wife he had selected. + +The consequence of this half confession was that Wheeler went to work +to find him a girl with money, and not under county influence. + +One of Wheeler's clients was a retired citizen, living in a pretty +villa near the market town. Mr. Wright employed him in little matters, +and found him active and attentive. There was a Miss Wright, a meek +little girl, palish, on whom her father doted. Wheeler talked to this +girl of his friend Bassett, his virtues and his wrongs, and interested +the young lady in him. This done, he brought him to the house, and the +girl, being slight and delicate, gazed with gentle but undisguised +admiration on Bassett's _torso._ Wheeler had told Richard Miss Wright +was to have seven thousand pounds on her wedding-day, and that excited +a corresponding admiration in the athletic gentleman. + +After that Bassett often called by himself, and the father encouraged +the intimacy. He was old, and wished to see his daughter married before +he left her and this seemed an eligible match, though not a brilliant +one; a bit of land and a good name on one side, a smart bit of money on +the other. The thing went on wheels. Richard Bassett was engaged to +Jane Wright almost before he was aware. + +Now he felt uneasy about Mary Wells, very uneasy; but it was only the +uneasiness of selfishness. + +He began to try and prepare; he affected business visits to distant +places, etc., in order to break off by degrees. By this means their +meetings were comparatively few. When they did meet (which was now +generally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by telling her +he had encountered losses, and feared that to marry her would be a bad +job for her as well as for him, especially if she should have children. + +Mary replied she had been used to work, and would rather work for a +husband than any other master. + +On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a gentleman ever +broke his oath. + +“Never,” said Richard. + +In short, she gave him no opening. She would not quarrel. She adhered +to him as she had never adhered to anything but a lie before. + +Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He coolly cut her; +never came to the trysting-place; did not answer her letters; and, +being a reckless egotist, married Jane Wright all in a hurry, by +special license. + +He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, and engaged the +ringers to ring the church-bells from six o'clock till sundown. This +was for Sir Charles's ears. + +It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was commencing her toilet +in an indolent way, with Mary Wells in attendance, when the +church-bells of Huntercombe struck up a merry peal. + +“Ah!” said Lady Bassett; “what is that for? Do you know, Mary?” + +“No, my lady. Shall I ask?” + +“No; I dare say it is a village wedding.” + +“No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Our +kitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and know +what it is for.” Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid she +caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to her +sweetheart, and he told her directly. + +Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells. + +“They are always sad--saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poor +things! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sad +to me--sadder than usual, somehow.” + + + +The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shot +in--“'Tis for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home to +Highmore to-day.” + +“Mr. Bassett--married--that is sudden. Who could he find to marry him?” + There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate the news, +and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, sick with +the sudden blow. + +Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman's +eye, but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise she +had gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the sound +of those church-bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir Charles; +but she did not lift her head, even to give this order. + +Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles's dressing-room. + +“Come in,” said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it was his valet. + +Mary Wells just opened the door and held it ajar. “My lady bids me tell +you, sir, the bells are ringing for Mr. Bassett; he's married, and +brings her home tonight.” + +A dead silence marked the effect of this announcement on Sir Charles. +Mary Wells waited. + + + +“May Heaven's curse light on that marriage, and no child of theirs ever +take my place in this house!” + +“A-a-men!” said Mary Wells. + +“Thank you, sir!” said Sir Charles. He took her voice for a man's, so +deep and guttural was her “A--a--men” with concentrated passion. + +She closed the door and crept back to her mistress. + +Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair down and her +shoulders bare. Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work; +but very soon Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass. +“Mary!” said she, “what _is_ the matter? You look ghastly, and your +hands are as cold as ice. Are you faint?” + +“No.” + +“Then you are ill; very ill.” + +“I have taken a chill,” said Mary, doggedly. + +“Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spirits +and hot water--quite hot.” + +Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back +hair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door. + +“Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone. + +“My lady.” + +“I should like to hear what the bride is like.” + +“I'll know that to-night,” said Mary, grinding her teeth. + +“I shall not require you again till bedtime.” + +Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own +garret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry, +upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and +writhed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded. + +In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. She +got up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like a +savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot. + +She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs; +but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan. +She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some +spirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. They +sent the devil into her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek. +She had a little scarlet shawl; she put it over her head, and went into +the village. She found it astir with expectation. + +Mr. Bassett's house stood near the highway, but the entrance to the +premises was private, and through a long white gate. + +By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got on that heap and +waited. + +When she had been there about half an hour, Richard Bassett drove up in +a hired carriage, with his pale little wife beside him. At his own gate +his eye encountered Mary Wells, and he started. She stood above him, +with her arms folded grandly; her cheek, so swarthy and ruddy, was now +pale, and her black eyes glittered like basilisks at him and his bride. +The whole woman seemed lifted out of her low condition, and dignified +by wrong. + +He had to sustain her look for a few seconds, while the gate was being +opened, and it seemed an age. He felt his first pang of remorse when he +saw that swarthy, ruddy cheek so pale. Then came admiration of her +beauty, and disgust at the woman for whom he had jilted her; and that +gave way to fear: the hater looked into those glittering eyes, and saw +he had roused a hate as unrelenting as his own. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FOR the first few days Richard Bassett expected some annoyance from +Mary Wells; but none came, and he began to flatter himself she was too +fond of him to give him pain. + +This impression was shaken about ten days after the little scene I have +described. He received a short note from her, as follows: + + + +“SIR--You must meet me to-night, at the same place, eight o'clock. If +you do not come it will be the worse for you. + +“M. W.” + + + +Richard Bassett's inclination was to treat this summons with contempt; +but he thought it would be wiser to go and see whether the girl had any +hostile intentions. Accordingly he went to the tryst. He waited for +some time, and at last he heard a quick, firm foot, and Mary Wells +appeared. She was hooded with her scarlet shawl, that contrasted +admirably with her coal-black hair; and out of this scarlet frame her +dark eyes glittered. She stood before him in silence. + +He said nothing. + +She was silent too for some time. But she spoke first. + +“Well, sir, you promised one, and you have married another. Now what +are you going to do for me?” + +“What _can_ I do, Mary? I'm not the first that wanted to marry for +love, but money came in his way and tempted him.” + +“No, you are not the first. But that's neither here nor there, sir. +That chalk-faced girl has bought you away from me with her money, and +now I mean to have my share on't.” + +“Oh, if that is all,” said Richard, “we can soon settle it. I was +afraid you were going to talk about a broken heart, and all that stuff. +You are a good, sensible girl; and too beautiful to want a husband +long. I'll give you fifty pounds to forgive me.” + +“Fifty pounds!” said Mary Wells, contemptuously. “What! when you +promised me I should be your wife to-day, and lady of Huntercombe Hall +by-and-by? Fifty pounds! No; not five fifties.” + +“Well, I'll give you seventy-five; and if that won't do, you must go to +law, and see what you can get.” + +“What, han't you had your bellyful of law? Mind, it is an unked thing +to forswear yourself, and that is what you done at the 'sizes. I have +seen what you did swear about your letter to my sister; Sir Charles +have got it all wrote down in his study: and you swore a lie to the +judge, as you swore a lie to me here under heaven, you villain!” She +raised her voice very loud. “Don't you gainsay me, or I'll soon have +you by the heels in jail for your lies. You'll do as I bid you, and +very lucky to be let off so cheap. You was to be my master, but you +chose her instead: well, then, you shall be my servant. You shall come +here every Saturday at eight o'clock, and bring me a sovereign, which I +never could keep a lump o' money, and I have had one or two from Rhoda; +so I'll take it a sovereign a week till I get a husband of my own sort, +and then you'll have to come down handsome once for all.” + +Bassett knitted his brows and thought hard. His natural impulse was to +defy her; but it struck him that a great many things might happen in a +few months; so at last he said, humbly, “I consent. I have been to +blame. Only I'd rather pay you this money in some other way.” + +“My way, or none.” + +“Very well, then, I will bring it you as you say.” + +“Mind you do, then,” said Mary Wells, and turned haughtily on her heel. + +Bassett never ventured to absent himself at the hour, and, at first, +the blackmail was delivered and received with scarcely a word; but +by-and-by old habits so far revived that some little conversation took +place. + +Then, after a while, Bassett used to tell her he was unhappy, and she +used to reply she was glad of it. + +Then he began to speak slightingly of his wife, and say what a fool he +had been to marry a poor, silly nonentity, when he might have wedded a +beauty. + +Mary Wells, being intensely vain, listened with complacency to this, +although she replied coldly and harshly. + +By-and-by her natural volubility overpowered her, and she talked to +Bassett about herself and Huntercombe House, but always with a secret +reserve. + +Later--such is the force of habit--each used to look forward with +satisfaction to the Saturday meeting, although each distrusted and +feared the other at bottom. + +Later still that came to pass which Mary Wells had planned from the +first with deep malice, and that shrewd insight into human nature which +many a low woman has--the cooler she was the warmer did Richard Bassett +grow, till at last, contrasting his pale, meek little wife with this +glowing Hebe, he conceived an unholy liking for the latter. She met it +sometimes with coldness and reproaches, sometimes with affected alarm, +sometimes with a half-yielding manner, and so tormented him to her +heart's content, and undermined his affection for his wife. Thus she +revenged herself on them both to her heart's content. + +But malice so perverse is apt to recoil on itself; and women, in +particular, should not undertake a long and subtle revenge of this +sort; since the strongest have their hours of weakness, and are +surprised into things they never intended. The subsequent history of +Mary Wells will exemplify this. Meantime, however, meek little Mrs. +Bassett was no match for the beauty and low cunning of her rival. + +Yet a time came when she defended herself unconsciously. She did +something that made her husband most solicitous for her welfare and +happiness. He began to watch her health with maternal care, to shield +her from draughts, to take care of her diet, to indulge her in all her +whims instead of snubbing her, and to pet her, till she was the +happiest wife in England for a time. She deserved this at his hands, +for she assisted him there where his heart was fixed; she aided his +hobby; did more for it than any other creature in England could. + + + +To return to Huntercombe Hall: the loving couple that owned it were no +longer happy. The hope of offspring was now deserting them, and the +disappointment was cruel. They suffered deeply, with this +difference--that Lady Bassett pined and Sir Charles Bassett fretted. + +The woman's grief was more pure and profound than the man's. If there +had been no Richard Bassett in the world, still her bosom would have +yearned and pined, and the great cry of Nature, “Give me children or I +die,” would have been in her heart, though it would never have risen to +her lips. + +Sir Charles had, of course, less of this profound instinct than his +wife, but he had it too; only in him the feeling was adulterated and at +the same time imbittered by one less simple and noble. An enemy sat at +his gate. That enemy, whose enduring malice had at last begotten equal +hostility in the childless baronet, was now married, and would probably +have heirs; and, if so, that hateful brood--the spawn of an anonymous +letter-writer--would surely inherit Bassett and Huntercombe, succeeding +to Sir Charles Bassett, deceased without issue. This chafed the +childless man, and gradually undermined a temper habitually sweet, +though subject, as we have seen, to violent ebullitions where the +provocation was intolerable. Sir Charles, then, smarting under his +wound, spoke now and then rather unkindly to the wife he loved so +devotedly; that is to say, his manner sometimes implied that he blamed +her for their joint calamity. + +Lady Bassett submitted to these stings in silence. They were rare, and +speedily followed by touching regrets; and even had it not been so she +would have borne them with resignation; for this motherless wife loved +her husband with all a wife's devotion and a mother's unselfish +patience. Let this be remembered to her credit. It is the truth, and +she may need it. + +Her own yearning was too deep and sad for fretfulness; yet though, +unlike her husband's, it never broke out in anger, the day was gone by +when she could keep it always silent. It welled out of her at times in +ways that were truly womanly and touching. + +When she called on a wife the lady was sure to parade her children. The +boasted tact of women--a quality the narrow compass of which has +escaped their undiscriminating eulogists--was sure to be swept away by +maternal egotism; and then poor Lady Bassett would admire the children +loudly, and kiss them, to please the cruel egotist, and hide the tears +that rose to her own eyes; but she would shorten her visit. + +When a child died in the village Mary Wells was sure to be sent with +words of comfort and substantial marks of sympathy. + +Scarcely a day passed that something or other did not happen to make +the wound bleed; but I will confine myself to two occasions, on each of +which her heart's agony spoke out, and so revealed how much it must +have endured in silence. + +Since the day when Sir Charles allowed her to sit in a little room +close to his study while he received Mr. Wheeler's visit she had fitted +up that room, and often sat there to be near Sir Charles; and he would +sometimes call her in and tell her his justice cases. One day she was +there when the constable brought in a prisoner and several witnesses. +The accused was a stout, florid girl, with plump cheeks and pale gray +eyes. She seemed all health, stupidity, and simplicity. She carried a +child on her left arm. No dweller in cities could suspect this face of +crime. As well indict a calf. + +Yet the witnesses proved beyond a doubt that she had been seen with her +baby in the neighborhood of a certain old well on a certain day at +noon; that soon after noon she had been seen on the road without her +baby, and being asked what had become of it, had said she had left it +with her aunt, ten miles off; and that about an hour after that a faint +cry had been heard at the bottom of the old well--it was ninety feet +deep; people had assembled, and a brave farmer's boy had been lowered +in the bight of a cart-rope, and had brought up a dead hen, and a live +child, bleeding at the cheek, having fallen on a heap of fagots at the +bottom of the well; which child was the prisoner's. + +Sir Charles had the evidence written down, and then told the accused +she might make a counter-statement if she chose, but it would be wiser +to say nothing at all. + +Thereupon the accused dropped him a little short courtesy, looked him +steadily in the face with her pale gray eyes, and delivered herself as +follows: + +“If you please, sir, I was a-sitting by th' old well, with baby in my +arms; and I was mortal tired, I was, wi' carring of him; he be uncommon +heavy for his age; and, if you please, sir, he is uncommon resolute; +and while I was so he give a leap right out of my arms and fell down +th' old well. I screams, and runs away to tell my brother's wife, as +lives at top of the hill; but she was gone into North Wood for dry +sticks to light her oven; and when I comes back they had got him out of +the well, and I claims him directly; and the constable said we must +come before you, sir; so here we be.” + +This she delivered very glibly, without tremulousness, hesitation, or +the shadow of a blush, and dropped another little courtesy at the end +to Sir Charles. + +Thereupon he said not one word to her, but committed her for trial, and +gave the farmer's boy a sovereign. + +The people were no sooner gone than Lady Bassett came in, with the +tears streaming, and threw herself at her husband's knees. “Oh, +Charles! can such things be? Does God give a child to a woman that has +the heart to kill it, and refuse one to me, who would give my heart's +blood to save a hair of its little head? Oh, what have we done that he +singles us out to be so cruel to us?” + +Then Sir Charles tried to comfort her, but could not, and the childless +ones wept together. + + + +It began to be whispered that Mrs. Bassett was in the family way. +Neither Sir Charles nor Lady Bassett mentioned this rumor. It would +have been like rubbing vitriol into their own wounds. But this reserve +was broken through one day. It was a sunny afternoon in June, just +thirteen months after Mr. Bassett's wedding--Lady Bassett was with her +husband in his study, settling invitations for a ball, and writing +them--when the church-bells struck up a merry peal. They both left off, +and looked at each other eloquently. Lady Bassett went out, but soon +returned, looking pale and wild. + +_“Yes!”_ said she, with forced calmness. Then, suddenly losing her +self-command, she broke out, pointing through the window at Highmore, +_“He_ has got a fine boy--to take our place here. Kill me, Charles! +Send me to heaven to pray for you, and take another wife that will love +you less but be like other wives. That villain has married a fruitful +vine, and” (lifting both arms to heaven, with a gesture unspeakably +piteous, poetic, and touching) “I am a barren stock.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +OF all the fools Nature produces with the help of Society, fathers of +first-borns are about the most offensive. + +The mothers of ditto are bores too, flinging their human dumplings at +every head; but, considering the tortures they have suffered, and the +anguish the little egotistical viper they have just hatched will most +likely give them, and considering further that their love of their +firstborn is greater than their pride, and their pride unstained by +vanity, one must make allowances for them. + +But the male parent is not so excusable. His fussy vanity is an +inferior article to the mother's silly but amiable pride. His obtrusive +affection is two-thirds of it egotism, and blindish egotism, too; for +if, at the very commencement of the wife's pregnancy the husband is +sent to India, or hanged, the little angel, as they call it--Lord +forgive them!--is nurtured from a speck to a mature infant by the other +parent, and finally brought into the world by her just as effectually +as if her male confederate had been tied to her apron-string: all the +time, instead of expatriated or hanged. + +Therefore the Law--for want, I suppose, of studying Medicine--is a +little inconsiderate in giving children to fathers, and taking them by +force from such mothers _as can support them;_ and therefore let +Gallina go on clucking over her first-born, but Gallus be quiet, or +sing a little smaller. + +With these preliminary remarks, let me introduce to you a character new +in fiction, but terribly old in history-- + + THE CLUCKING COCK. + +Upon the birth of a son and heir Mr. Richard Bassett was inflated +almost to bursting. He became suddenly hospitable, collected all his +few friends about him, and showed them all the Boy at great length, and +talked Boy and little else. He went out into the world and made calls +on people merely to remind them he had a son and heir. + +His self-gratulation took a dozen forms; perhaps the most amusing, and +the richest food for satire, was the mock-querulous style, of which he +showed himself a master. + +“Don't you ever marry,” said he to Wheeler and others. “Look at me; do +you think I am the master of my own house? Not I; I am a regular slave. +First, there is a monthly nurse, who orders me out of my wife's +presence, or graciously lets me in, just as she pleases; that is Queen +1. Then there's a wet-nurse, Queen 2, whom I must humor in everything, +or she will quarrel with me, and avenge herself by souring her milk. +But these are mild tyrants compared with the young King himself. If he +does but squall we must all skip, and find out what he ails, or what he +wants. As for me, I am looked upon as a necessary evil; the women seem +to admit that a father is an incumbrance without which these little +angels could not exist, but that is all.” + +He had a christening feast, and it was pretty well attended, for he +reminded all he asked that the young Christian was the heir to the +Bassett estates. They feasted, and the church-bells rang merrily. + +He had his pew in the church new lined with cloth, and took his wife to +be churched. The nurse was in the pew too, with his son and heir. It +squalled and spoiled the Liturgy. Thereat Gallus chuckled. + +He made a gravel-walk all along the ha-ha that separated his garden +from Sir Charles's, and called it “The Heir's Walk.” Here the nurse and +child used to parade on sunny afternoons. + +He got an army of workmen, and built a nursery fit for a duke's nine +children. It occupied two entire stories, and rose in the form of a +square tower high above the rest of his house, which, indeed, was as +humble as “The Heir's Tower” was pretentious. “The Heir's Tower” had a +flat lead roof easy of access, and from it you could inspect +Huntercombe Hall, and see what was done on the lawn or at some of the +windows. + +Here, in the August afternoons, Mr. and Mrs. Bassett used to sit +drinking their tea, with nurse and child; and Bassett would talk to his +unconscious boy, and tell him that the great house and all that +belonged to it should be his in spite of the arts that had been used to +rob him of it. + +Now, of course, the greater part of all this gratulation was merely +amusing, and did no harm except stirring up the bile of a few old +bachelors, and imbittering them worse than ever against clucking cocks, +crowing hens, inflated parents, and matrimony in general. + +But the overflow of it reached Huntercombe Hall, and gave cruel pain to +the childless ones, over whom this inflated father was, in fact, +exulting. + +As for the christening, and the bells that pealed for it, and the +subsequent churching, they bore these things with sore hearts, and +bravely, being things of course. But when it came to their ears that +Bassett and his family called his new gravel-walk “The Heir's Walk,” + and his ridiculous nursery “The Heir's Tower,” this roused a bitter +animosity, and, indeed, led to reprisals. Sir Charles built a long wall +at the edge of his garden, shutting out “The Heir's Walk” and +intercepting the view of his own premises from that walk. + +Then Mr. Bassett made a little hill at the end of his walk, so that the +heir might get one peep over the wall at his rich inheritance. + +Then Sir Charles began to fell timber on a gigantic scale. He went to +work with several gangs of woodmen, and all his woods, which were very +extensive, rang with the ax, and the trees fell like corn. He made no +secret that he was going to sell timber to the tune of several thousand +pounds and settle it on his wife. + +Then Richard Bassett, through Wheeler, his attorney, remonstrated in +his own name, and that of his son, against this excessive fall of +timber on an entailed estate. + +Sir Charles chafed like a lion stung by a gad-fly, but vouchsafed no +reply: the answer came from Mr. Oldfield; he said Sir Charles had a +right under the entail to fell every stick of timber, and turn his +woods into arable ground, if he chose; and even if he had not, looking +at his age and his wife's, it was extremely improbable that Richard +Bassett would inherit the estates: the said Richard Bassett was not +personally named in the entail, and his rights were all in supposition: +if Mr. Wheeler thought he could dispute both these positions, the Court +of Chancery was open to his client. + +Then Wheeler advised Bassett to avoid the Court of Chancery in a matter +so debatable; and Sir Charles felled all the more for the protest. The +dead bodies of the trees fell across each other, and daylight peeped +through the thick woods. It was like the clearing of a primeval forest. + +Richard Bassett went about with a witness and counted the fallen. + +The poor were allowed the lopwood: they thronged in for miles round, +and each built himself a great wood pile for the winter; the poor +blessed Sir Charles: he gave the proceeds, thirteen thousand pounds, to +his wife for her separate use. He did not tie it up. He restricted her +no further than this: she undertook never to draw above 100 pounds at a +time without consulting Mr. Oldfield as to the application. Sir Charles +said he should add to this fund every year; his beloved wife should not +be poor, even if the hated cousin should outlive him and turn her out +of Huntercombe. + +And so passed the summer of that year; then the autumn; and then came a +singularly mild winter. There was more hunting than usual, and Richard +Bassett, whom his wife's fortune enabled to cut a better figure than +before, was often in the field, mounted on a great bony horse that was +not so fast as some, being half-bred, but a wonderful jumper. + +Even in this pastime the cousins were rivals. Sir Charles's favorite +horse was a magnificent thoroughbred, who was seldom far off at the +finish: over good ground Richard's cocktail had no chance with him; but +sometimes, if toward the close of the run they came to stiff fallows +and strong fences, the great strength of the inferior animal, and that +prudent reserve of his powers which distinguishes the canny cocktail +from the higher-blooded animal, would give him the advantage. + +Of this there occurred, on a certain 18th of November, an example +fraught with very serious consequences. + +That day the hounds met on Sir Charles's estate. Sir Charles and Lady +Bassett breakfasted in Pink; he had on his scarlet coat, white tie, +irreproachable buckskins, and top-boots. (It seemed a pity a speck of +dirt should fall on them.) Lady Bassett was in her riding-habit; and +when she mounted her pony, and went to cover by his side, with her +blue-velvet cap and her red-brown hair, she looked more like a +brilliant flower than a mere woman. + +A veteran fox was soon found, and went away with unusual courage and +speed, and Lady Bassett paced homeward to wait her lord's return, with +an anxiety men laugh at, but women can appreciate. It was a form of +quiet suffering she had constantly endured, and never complained, nor +even mentioned the subject to Sir Charles but once, and then he +pooh-poohed her fancies. + +The hunt had a burst of about forty minutes that left Richard Bassett's +cocktail in the rear; and the fox got into a large beech wood with +plenty of briars, and kept dodging about it for two hours, and puzzled +the scent repeatedly. + +Richard Bassett elected not to go winding in and out among trees, risk +his horse's legs in rabbit-holes, and tire him for nothing. He had kept +for years a little note book he called “Statistics of Foxes,” and that +told him an old dog-fox of uncommon strength, if dislodged from that +particular wood, would slip into Bellman's Coppice, and if driven out +of that would face the music again, would take the open country for +Higham Gorse, and probably be killed before he got there; but once +there a regiment of scythes might cut him out, but bleeding, sneezing +fox-hounds would never work him out at the tail of a long run. + +So Richard Bassett kept out of the wood, and went gently on to +Bellman's Coppice and waited outside. + +His book proved an oracle. After two hours' dodging and maneuvering the +fox came out at the very end of Bellman's Coppice, with nothing near +him but Richard Bassett. Pug gave him the white of his eye in an ugly +leer, and headed straight as a crow for Higham Gorse. + +Richard Bassett blew his horn, collected the hunt, and laid the dogs +on. Away they went, close together, thunder-mouthed on the hot scent. + +After a three miles' gallop they sighted the fox for a moment just +going over the crest of a rising ground two furlongs off. Then the +hullabbaloo and excitement grew furious, and one electric fury animated +dogs, men, and horses. Another mile, and the fox ran in sight scarcely +a furlong off; but many of the horses were distressed: the Bassetts, +however, kept up, one by his horse being fresh, the other by his +animal's native courage and speed. + +Then came some meadows, bounded by a thick hedge, and succeeded by a +plowed field of unusual size--eighty acres. + +When the fox darted into this hedge the hounds were yelling at his +heels; the hunt burst through the thin fence, expecting to see them +kill close to it. + +But the wily fox had other resources at his command than speed. +Appreciating his peril, he doubled and ran sixty yards down the ditch, +and the impetuous hounds rushed forward and overran the scent. They +raved about to and fro, till at last one of the gentlemen descried the +fox running down a double furrow in the middle of the field. He had got +into this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footed +pursuers could. The dogs were laid on, and away they went +helter-skelter. + +At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an old +quickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, and +a new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches. + +The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumped +on to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field. + +Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed his +forefeet in the field, and so scrambled on. + +Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by the +fallow, caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and went +headlong into the other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head into +the field. Unluckily some of the trees were lying about, and Sir +Charles's head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered out +again, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider lay there +motionless. + +Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; but +presently Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh, +turned round in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two or +three gentlemen dismounting at the place. These were newcomers. Then he +resigned the hunt, and rode back. + +Sir Charles's cap was crushed in, and there was blood on his white +waistcoat; he was very pale, and quite insensible. + +The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm and kindly concern, +and inquired of each other what was best to be done. + +Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate opinion, and seized +it. “He must be taken home directly,” said he. “We must carry him to +that farmhouse, and get a cart for him.” + +He helped carry him accordingly. The farmer lent them a cart, with +straw, and they laid the insensible baronet gently on it, Richard +Bassett supporting his head. “Gentlemen,” said he, rather pompously, +“at such a moment everything but the tie of kindred is forgotten.” + Which resounding sentiment was warmly applauded by the honest squires. + +They took him slowly and carefully toward Huntercombe, distant about +two miles from the scene of the accident. + + + +This 18th November Lady Bassett passed much as usual with her on +hunting days. She was quietly patient till the afternoon, and then +restless, and could not settle down in any part of the house till she +got to a little room on the first floor, with a bay-window commanding +the country over which Sir Charles was hunting. In this she sat, with +her head against one of the mullions, and eyed the country-side as far +as she could see. + +Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary Wells standing and +looking at her with evident emotion. + +“What is the matter, Mary?” said Lady Bassett. + +“Oh, my lady!” said Mary. And she trembled, and her hands worked. + +Lady Bassett started up with alarm painted in her countenance. + +“My lady, there's something wrong in the hunting field.” + +“Sir Charles!” + +“An accident, they say.” + +Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint cry. Mary Wells ran +to her. + +“Come with me directly!” cried Lady Bassett. She snatched up her +bonnet, and in another minute she and Mary Wells were on their road to +the village, questioning every body they met. + +But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. The stable-boy, +who had told the report in the kitchen of Huntercombe, said he had it +from a gentleman's groom, riding by as he stood at the gates. + +The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing rapidly by was +not confirmed by any further report, and Lady Bassett began to hope it +was false. + +But a terrible confirmation came at last. + +In the outskirts of the village mistress and servant encountered a +sorrowful procession: the cart itself, followed by five gentlemen on +horseback, pacing slowly, and downcast as at a funeral. + +In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with mud, and his +white waistcoat bloody, lay with his head upon Richard Bassett's knee. +His hair was wet with blood, some of which had trickled down his cheek +and dried. Even Richard's buckskins were slightly stained with it. + +At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which those who heard it +never forgot, and flung herself, Heaven knows how, into the cart; but +she got there, and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She took +no notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles away from him, +and the cart took her, embracing him tenderly, and kissing his hurt +head, and moaning over him, all through the village to Huntercombe +Hall. + +Four years ago they passed through the same village in a +carriage-and-four--bells pealing, rustics shouting--to take possession +of Huntercombe, and fill it with pledges of their great and happy love; +and as they flashed past the heir at law shrank hopeless into his +little cottage. Now, how changed the pageant!--a farmer's cart, a +splashed and bleeding and senseless form in it, supported by a +childless, despairing woman, one weeping attendant walking at the side, +and, among the gentlemen pacing slowly behind, the heir at law, with +his head lowered in that decent affectation of regret which all heirs +can put on to hide the indecent complacency within. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AT the steps of Huntercombe Hall the servants streamed out, and +relieved the strangers of the sorrowful load. Sir Charles was carried +into the Hall, and Richard Bassett turned away, with one triumphant +flash of his eye, quickly suppressed, and walked with impenetrable +countenance and studied demeanor into Highmore House. + +Even here he did not throw off the mask. It peeled off by degrees. He +began by telling his wife, gravely enough, Sir Charles had met with a +severe fall, and he had attended to him and taken him home. + +“Ah, I am glad you did that, Richard,” said Mrs. Bassett. “And is he +very badly hurt?” + +“I am afraid he will hardly get over it. He never spoke. He just +groaned when they took him down from the cart at Huntercombe.” + +“Poor Lady Bassett!” + +“Ay, it will be a bad job for her. Jane!” + +“Yes, dear.” + +“There is a providence in it. The fall would never have killed him; but +his head struck a tree upon the ground; and that tree was one of the +very elms he had just cut down to rob our boy.” + +“Indeed?” + +“Yes; he was felling the very hedgerow timber, and this was one of the +old elms in a hedge. He must have done it out of spite, for elm-wood +fetches no price; it is good for nothing I know of, except coffins. +Well, he has cut down _his.”_ + +“Poor man! Richard, death reconciles enemies. Surely you can forgive +him now.” + +“I mean to try.” + +Richard Bassett seemed now to have imbibed the spirit of quicksilver. +His occupations were not actually enlarged, yet, somehow or other, he +seemed full of business. He was all complacent bustle about nothing. He +left off inveighing against Sir Charles. And, indeed, if you are one of +those weak spirits to whom censure is intolerable, there is a cheap and +easy way to moderate the rancor of detraction--you have only to die. +Let me comfort genius in particular with this little recipe. + +Why, on one occasion, Bassett actually snubbed Wheeler for a mere +allusion. That worthy just happened to remark, “No more felling of +timber on Bassett Manor for a while.” + +“For shame!” said Richard. “The man had his faults, but he had his good +qualities too: a high-spirited gentleman, beloved by his friends and +respected by all the county. His successor will find it hard to +reconcile the county to his loss.” + +Wheeler stared, and then grinned satirically. + +This eulogy was never repeated, for Sir Charles proved ungrateful--he +omitted to die, after all. + +Attended by first-rate physicians, tenderly nursed and watched by Lady +Bassett and Mary Wells, he got better by degrees; and every stage of +his slow but hopeful progress was communicated to the servants and the +village, and to the ladies and gentlemen who rode up to the door every +day and left their cards of inquiry. + +The most attentive of all these was the new rector, a young clergyman, +who had obtained the living by exchange. He was a man highly gifted +both in body and mind--a swarthy Adonis, whose large dark eyes from the +very first turned with glowing admiration on the blonde beauties of +Lady Bassett. + +He came every day to inquire after her husband; and she sometimes left +the sufferer a minute or two to make her report to him in person. At +other times Mary Wells was sent to him. That artful girl soon +discovered what had escaped her mistress's observation. + +The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all sides. + +Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. “I want to see him about again,” + said he. “Sir Charles is not the man to lie in bed if he was really +better. As for the doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment. +Let me see him on his legs, and then I'll believe he is better.” + +Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Richard Bassett this moderate +request. One frosty but sunny afternoon, as he was inspecting his +coming domain from “The Heir's Tower,” he saw the Hall door open, and a +muffled figure come slowly down the steps between two women: It was Sir +Charles, feeble but convalescent. He crept about on the sunny gravel +for about ten minutes, and then his nurses conveyed him tenderly in +again. + +This sight, which might have touched with pity a more generous nature, +startled Richard Bassett, and then moved his bile. “I was a fool,” said +he; “nothing will ever kill that man. He will see me out; see us all +out. And that Mary Wells nurses him, and I dare say in love with him by +this time; the fools can't nurse a man without. Curse the whole pack of +ye!” he yelled, and turned away in rage and disgust. + +That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange fit of jealousy, +began to make hot protestations of love to her. He knew it was no use +reproaching her, so he went on the other tack. + +She received his vows with cool complacency, but would only stay a +minute, and would only talk of her master and mistress, toward whom her +heart was really warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, and +said: “'Tisn't as if he was one of your faint-hearted ones as meet +death half-way. Why, the second day, when he could scarce speak, he +sees me crying by the bed, and says he, almost in a whisper, 'What are +_you_ crying for?' 'Sir,' says I, ''tis for you--to see you lie like a +ghost.' 'Then you be wasting of salt-water,' says he. 'I wish I may, +sir,' says I. So then he raised himself up a little bit. 'Look at me,' +says he; 'I'm a Bassett. I am not the breed to die for a crack on the +skull, and leave you all to the mercy of them that would have no +mercy'--which he meant you, I suppose. So he ordered me to leave +crying, which I behooved to obey; for he will be master, mind ye, while +he have a finger to wag, poor dear gentleman, he will.” + +And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to detain her, and +scudded back to the house, leaving Bassett to his reflections, which +were exceedingly bitter. + +Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily with Lady +Bassett. Their favorite stroll was up and down the lawn, close under +the boundary wall he had built to shut out “The Heir's Walk.” + +The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall and the walk by its side. + +On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky Bassett, the heir; +but neither of the promenaders could see each other for the wall. + +Richard Bassett, on the contrary, from “The Heir's Tower,” could see +both these little parties; and, as some men cannot keep away from what +causes their pain, he used to watch these loving walks, and see Sir +Charles get stronger and stronger, till at last, instead of leaning on +his beloved wife, he could march by her side, or even give her his arm. + +Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, except during +these blissful walks, when the sun shone on him, and Love and Beauty +soothed him, Sir Charles was not the man he had been. The shake he had +received appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He became so +irritable that several of his servants left him; and to his wife he +repined; and his childless condition, which had been hitherto only a +deep disappointment, became in his eyes a calamity that outweighed his +many blessings. He had now narrowly escaped dying without an heir, and +this seemed to sink into his mind, and, co-operating with the +concussion his brain had received, brought him into a morbid state. He +brooded on it, and spoke of it, and got back to it from every other +topic, in a way that distressed Lady Bassett unspeakably. She consoled +him bravely; but often, when she was alone, her gentle courage gave +way, and she cried bitterly to herself. + +Her distress had one effect she little expected; it completed what her +invariable kindness had begun, and actually won the heart of a servant. +Those who really know that tribe will agree with me that this was a +marvelous conquest. Yet so it was; Mary Wells conceived for her a real +affection, and showed it by unremitting attention, and a soft and +tender voice, that soothed Lady Bassett, and drew many a silent but +grateful glance from her dove-like eyes. + +Mary listened, and heard enough to blame Sir Charles for his +peevishness, and she began to throw out little expressions of +dissatisfaction at him; but these were so promptly discouraged by the +faithful wife that she drew in again and avoided that line. But one +day, coming softly as a cat, she heard Sir Charles and Lady Bassett +talking over their calamity. Sir Charles was saying that it was +Heaven's curse; that all the poor people in the village had children; +that Richard Bassett's weak, puny little wife had brought him an heir, +and was about to make him a parent again; he alone was marked out and +doomed to be the last of his race. “And yet,” said he, “if I had +married any other woman, and you had married any other man, we should +have had children by the dozen, I suppose.” + +Upon the whole, though he said nothing palpably unjust, he had the tone +of a man blaming his wife as the real cause of their joint calamity, +under which she suffered a deeper, nobler, and more silent anguish than +himself. This was hard to bear; and when Sir Charles went away, Mary +Wells ran in, with an angry expression on the tip of her tongue. + +She found Lady Bassett in a pitiable condition, lying rather than +leaning on the table, with her hair loose about her, sobbing as if her +heart would break. + +All that was good in Mary Wells tugged at her heart-strings. She flung +herself on her knees beside her, and seizing her mistress's hand, and +drawing it to her bosom, fell to crying and sobbing along with her. + +This canine devotion took Lady Bassett by surprise. She turned her +tearful eyes upon her sympathizing servant, and said, “Oh, Mary!” and +her soft hand pressed the girl's harder palm gratefully. + +Mary spoke first. “Oh, my lady,” she sobbed, “it breaks my heart to see +you so. And what a shame to blame you for what is no fault of yourn. If +I was your husband the cradles would soon be full in this house; but +these fine gentlemen, they be old before their time with smoking of +tobacco; and then to come and lay the blame on we!” + +“Mary, I value you very much--more than I ever did a servant in my +life; but if you speak against your master we shall part.” + +“La, my lady, I wouldn't for the world. Sir Charles is a perfect +gentleman. Why, he gave me a sovereign only the other day for nursing +of him; but he didn't ought to blame you for no fault of yourn, and to +make you cry. It tears me inside out to see you cry; you that is so +good to rich and poor. I wouldn't vex myself so for that: dear heart, +'twas always so; God sends meat to one house, and mouths to another.” + +“I could be patient if poor Sir Charles was not so unhappy,” sighed +Lady Bassett; “but if ever you are a wife, Mary, you will know how +wretched it makes us to see a beloved husband unhappy.” + +“Then I'd make him happy,” said Mary. + +“Ah, if I only could!” + +“Oh, I could tell you a way; for I have known it done; and now he is as +happy as a prince. You see, my lady, some men are like children; to +make them happy you must give them their own way; and so, if I was in +your place, I wouldn't make two bites of a cherry, for sometimes I +think he will fret himself out of the world for want on't.” + +“Heaven forbid!” + +“It is my belief you would not be long behind him.” + +“No, Mary. Why should I?” + +“Then--whisper, my lady!” + +And, although Lady Bassett drew slightly back at this freedom, Mary +Wells poured into her ear a proposal that made her stare and shiver. + +As for the girl's own face, it was as unmoved as if it had been bronze. + +Lady Bassett drew back, and eyed her askant with amazement and terror. + +“What is this you have dared to say?” + +“Why, it is done every day.” + +“By people of your class, perhaps. No; I don't believe it. Mary, I have +been mistaken in you. I am afraid you are a vicious girl. Leave me, +please. I can't bear the sight of you.” + +Mary went away, very red, and the tear in her eye. + +In the evening Lady Bassett gave Mary Wells a month's warning, and Mary +accepted it doggedly, and thought herself very cruelly used. + +After this mistress and maid did not exchange an unnecessary word for +many days. + +This notice to leave was very bitter to Mary Wells, for she was in the +very act of making a conquest. Young Drake, a very small farmer and +tenant of Sir Charles, had fallen in love with her, and she liked him +and had resolved he should marry her, with which view she was playing +the tender but coy maiden very prettily. But Drake, though young and +very much in love, was advised by his mother, and evidently resolved to +go the old-fashioned way--keep company a year, and know the girl before +offering the ring. + +Just before her month was out a more serious trouble threatened Mary +Wells. + +Her low, artful amour with Richard Bassett had led to its natural +results. By degrees she had gone further than she intended, and now the +fatal consequences looked her in the face. + +She found herself in an odious position; for her growing regard for +young Drake, though not a violent attachment, was enough to set her +more and more against Richard Bassett, and she was preparing an entire +separation from the latter when the fatal truth dawned on her. + +Then there was a temporary revulsion of feeling; she told her condition +to Bassett, and implored him, with many tears, to aid her to disappear +for a time and hide her misfortune, especially from her sister. + +Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer that made her blood +run cold. “Why do you come to me?” said he. “Why don't you go to the +right man--young Drake?” + +He then told her he had had her watched, and she must not think to make +a fool of him. She was as intimate with the young farmer as with him, +and was in his company every day. + +Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but said he was a +civil, respectful young man, who desired to make her his wife. “You +have lost me that,” said she, bursting into tears; “and so, for God's +sake, show yourself a man for once, and see me through my trouble.” + +The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, and said, +“When there are two it is always the gentleman you girls deceive. But +you can't make a fool of me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I'll +give you a wedding present; that is all I can do for any other man's +sweetheart. I have got my own family to provide for, and it is all I +can contrive to make both ends meet.” + +He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she tried threats. He +laughed at them. Said he, “The time is gone by for that: if you wanted +to sue me for breach of promise, you should have done it at once; not +waited eighteen months and taken another sweetheart first. Come, come; +you played your little game. You made me come here week after week and +bleed a sovereign. A woman that loved a man would never have been so +hard on him as you were on me. I grinned and bore it; but when you ask +me to own another man's child, a man of your own sort that you are in +love with--you hate me--that is a little too much: no, Mrs. Drake; if +that is your game we will fight it out--before the public if you like.” + And, having delivered this with a tone of harsh and loud defiance, he +left her--left her forever. She sat down upon the cold ground and +rocked herself. Despair was cold at her heart. + +She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. Then she got up +and went to her mistress's room and sat by the fire, for her limbs were +cold as well as her heart. + +She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, till Lady +Bassett came up to bed. She then went through her work like an +automaton, and every now and then a deep sigh came from her breast. + +Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her face was altered; a +sort of sullen misery was written on it. Lady Bassett was quick at +reading faces, and this look alarmed her. “Mary,” said she, kindly, “is +there anything the matter?” + +No reply. + +“Are you unwell?” + +“No.” + +“Are you in trouble?” + +“Ay!” with a burst of tears. + +Lady Bassett let her cry, thinking it would relieve her, and then spoke +to her again with the languid pensiveness of a woman who has also her +trouble. “You have been very attentive to Sir Charles, and a kind good +servant to me, Mary.” + +“You are mocking me, my lady,” said Mary, bitterly. “You wouldn't have +turned me off for a word if I had been a good servant.” + +Lady Bassett colored high, and was silenced for a moment. At last she +said, “I feel it must seem harsh to you. You don't know how wicked it +was to tempt me. But it is not as if you had _done_ anything wrong. I +do not feel bound to mention mere words: I shall give you an excellent +character, Mary--indeed I _have._ I think I have got a good place for +you. I shall know to-morrow, and when it is settled we will look over +my wardrobe together.” + +This proposal implied a boxful of presents, and would have made Mary's +dark eyes flash with delight at another time; but she was past all that +now. She interrupted Lady Bassett with this strange speech: “You are +very kind, my lady; will you lend me the key of your medicine chest?” + +Lady Bassett looked surprised, but said, “Certainly, Mary,” and held +out the keys. + +But, before Mary could take them, she considered a moment, and asked +her what medicine she required. + +“Only a little laudanum.” + +“No, Mary; not while you look like that, and refuse to tell me your +trouble. I am your mistress, and must exert my authority for your good. +Tell me at once what is the matter.” + +“I'd bite my tongue off sooner.” + +“You are wrong, Mary. I am sure I should be your best friend. I feel +much indebted to you for the attention and the affection you have shown +me, and I am grieved to see you so despondent. Make a friend of me. +There--think it over, and talk to me again to-morrow.” + +Mary Wells took the true servant's view of Lady Bassett's kindness. She +looked at it as a trap; not, indeed, set with malice prepense, but +still a trap. She saw that Lady Bassett meant kindly at present; but, +for all that, she was sure that if she told the truth, her mistress +would turn against her, and say, “Oh! I had no idea your trouble arose +out of your own imprudence. I can do nothing for a vicious girl.” + +She resolved therefore to say nothing, or else to tell some lie or +other quite wide of the mark. + +Deplorable as this young woman's situation was, the duplicity and +coarseness of mind which had brought her into it would have somewhat +blunted the mental agony such a situation must inflict; but it was +aggravated by a special terror; she knew that if she was found out she +would lose the only sure friend she had in the world. + +The fact is, Mary Wells had seen a great deal of life during the two +years she was out of the reader's sight. Rhoda had been very good to +her; had set her up in a lodging-house, at her earnest request. She +misconducted it, and failed: threw it up in disgust, and begged Rhoda +to put her in the public line. Rhoda complied. Mary made a mess of the +public-house. Then Rhoda showed her she was not fit to govern anything, +and drove her into service again; and in that condition, having no more +cares than a child, and plenty of work to do, and many a present from +Rhoda, she had been happy. + +But Rhoda, though she forgave blunders, incapacity for business, and +waste of money, had always told her plainly there was one thing she +never would forgive. + +Rhoda Marsh had become a good Christian in every respect but one. The +male rake reformed is rather tolerant; but the female rake reformed is, +as a rule, bitterly intolerant of female frailty; and Rhoda carried +this female characteristic to an extreme both in word and in deed. They +were only half-sisters, after all; and Mary knew that she would be cast +off forever if she deviated from virtue so far as to be found out. + +Besides the general warning, there had been a special one. When she +read Mary's first letter from Huntercombe Hall Rhoda was rather taken +aback at first; but, on reflection, she wrote to Mary, saying she could +stay there on two conditions: she must be discreet, and never mention +her sister Rhoda in the house, and she must not be tempted to renew her +acquaintance with Richard Bassett. “Mind,” said she, “if ever you speak +to that villain I shall hear of it, and I shall never notice you +again.” + +This was the galling present and the dark future which had made so +young and unsentimental a woman as Mary Wells think of suicide for a +moment or two; and it now deprived her of her rest, and next day kept +her thinking and brooding all the time her now leaden limbs were +carrying her through her menial duties. + +The afternoon was sunny, and Sir Charles and Lady Bassett took their +usual walk. + +Mary Wells went a little way with them, looking very miserable. Lady +Bassett observed, and said, kindly, “Mary, you can give me that shawl; +I will not keep you; go where you like till five o'clock.” + +Mary never said so much as “Thank you.” She put the shawl round her +mistress, and then went slowly back. She sat down on the stone steps, +and glared stupidly at the scene, and felt very miserable and leaden. +She seemed to be stuck in a sort of slough of despond, and could not +move in any direction to get out of it. + +While she sat in this somber reverie a gentleman walked up to the door, +and Mary Wells lifted her head and looked at him. Notwithstanding her +misery, her eyes rested on him with some admiration, for he was a model +of a man: six feet high, and built like an athlete. His face was oval, +and his skin dark but glowing; his hair, eyebrows, and long eyelashes +black as jet; his gray eyes large and tender. He was dressed in black, +with a white tie, and his clothes were well cut, and seemed +superlatively so, owing to the importance and symmetry of the figure +they covered. It was the new vicar, Mr. Angelo. + +He smiled on Mary graciously, and asked her how Sir Charles was. + +She said he was better. + +Then Mr. Angelo asked, more timidly, was Lady Bassett at home. + +“She is just gone out, sir.” + +A look of deep disappointment crossed Mr. Angelo's face. It did not +escape Mary Wells. She looked at him full, and, lowering her voice a +little, said, “She is only in the grounds with Sir Charles. She will be +at home about five o'clock.” + +Mr. Angelo hesitated, and then said he would call again at five. He +evidently preferred a duet to a trio. He then thanked Mary Wells with +more warmth than the occasion seemed to call for, and retired very +slowly: he had come very quickly. + +Mary Wells looked after him, and asked herself wildly if she could not +make some use of him and his manifest infatuation. + +But before her mind could fix on any idea, and, indeed, before the +young clergyman had taken twenty steps homeward, loud voices were heard +down the shrubbery. + +These were followed by an agonized scream. + +Mary Wells started up, and the young parson turned: they looked at each +other in amazement. + +Then came wild and piercing cries for help--in a woman's voice. + +The young clergyman cried out, _“Her_ voice! _her_ voice!” and dashed +into the shrubbery with a speed Mary Wells had never seen equaled. He +had won the 200-yard race at Oxford in his day. + +The agonized screams were repeated, and Mary Wells screamed in response +as she ran toward the place. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +SIR CHARLES BASSETT was in high spirits this afternoon--indeed, a +little too high. + +“Bella, my love,” said he, “now I'll tell you why I made you give me +your signature this morning. The money has all come in for the wood, +and this very day I sent Oldfield instructions to open an account for +you with a London banker.” + +Lady Bassett looked at him with tears of tenderness in her eyes. +“Dearest,” said she, “I have plenty of money; but the love to which I +owe this present, that is my treasure of treasures. Well, I accept it, +Charles; but don't ask me to spend it on myself; I should feel I was +robbing you.” + +“It is nothing to me how you spend it; I have saved it from the enemy.” + +Now that very enemy heard these words. He had looked from the “Heir's +Tower,” and seen Sir Charles and Lady Bassett walking on their side the +wall, and the nurse carrying his heir on the other side. + +He had come down to look at his child in the sun; but he walked softly, +on the chance of overhearing Sir Charles and Lady Bassett say something +or other about his health; his design went no further than that, but +the fate of listeners is proverbial. + +Lady Bassett endeavored to divert her husband from the topic he seemed +to be approaching; it always excited him now, and did him harm. + +“Do not waste your thoughts on that enemy. He is powerless.” + +“At this moment, perhaps; but his turn is sure to come again; and I +shall provide for it. I mean to live on half my income, and settle the +other half on you. I shall act on the clause in the entail, and sell +all the timber on the estate, except about the home park and my best +covers. It will take me some years to do this; I must not glut the +market, and spoil your profits; but every year I'll have a fall, till I +have denuded Mr. Bassett's inheritance, as he calls it, and swelled +your banker's account to a Plum. Bella, I have had a shake. Even now +that I am better such a pain goes through my head, like a bullet +crushing through it, whenever I get excited. I don't think I shall be a +long-lived man. But never mind, I'll live as long as I can; and, while +I do live, I'll work for you, and against that villain.” + +“Charles,” cried Lady Bassett, “I implore you to turn your thoughts +away from that man, and to give up these idle schemes. Were you to die +I should soon follow you; so pray do not shorten your life by these +angry passions, or you will shorten mine.” + +This appeal acted powerfully on Sir Charles, and he left off suddenly +with flushed cheeks and tried to compose himself. + +But his words had now raised a corresponding fury on the other side of +that boundary wall. Richard Bassett, stung with rage, and, unlike his +high-bred cousin, accustomed to mix cunning even with his fury, gave +him a terrible blow--a very _coup de Jarnac._ He spoke _at_ him; he ran +forward to the nurse, and said very loud: “Let me see the little +darling. He does you credit. What fat cheeks!--what arms!--an infant +hercules! There, take him up the mound. Now lift him in your arms, and +let him see his inheritance. Higher, nurse, higher. Ay, crow away, +youngster; all that is yours--house and land and all. They may steal +the trees; they can't make away with the broad acres. Ha! I believe he +understands every word, nurse. See how he smiles and crows.” + +At the sound of Bassett's voice Sir Charles started, and, at the first +taunt, he uttered something between a moan and a roar, as of a wounded +lion. + +“Come away,” cried Lady Bassett. “He is doing it on purpose.” + +But the stabs came too fast. Sir Charles shook her off, and looked +wildly round for a weapon to strike his insulter with. + +“Curse him and his brat!” he cried. “They shall neither of them--I'll +kill them both.” + +He sprang fiercely at the wall, and, notwithstanding his weakly +condition, raised himself above it, and glared over with a face so full +of fury that Richard Bassett recoiled in dismay for a moment, and said, +“Run! run! He'll hurt the child!” + +But, the next moment, Sir Charles's hands lost their power; he uttered +a miserable moan, and fell gasping under the wall in an epileptic fit, +with all the terrible symptoms I have described in a previous portion +of this story. These were new to his poor wife, and, as she strove in +vain to control his fearful convulsions, her shrieks rent the air. +Indeed, her screams were so appalling that Bassett himself sprang at +the wall, and, by a great effort of strength, drew himself up, and +peered down, with white face, at the glaring eyes, clinched teeth, +purple face, and foaming lips of his enemy, and his body that bounded +convulsively on the ground with incredible violence. + +At that moment humanity prevailed over every thing, and he flung +himself over the wall, and in his haste got rather a heavy fall +himself. “It is a fit!” he cried, and running to the brook close by, +filled his hat with water, and was about to dash it over Sir Charles's +face. + +But Lady Bassett repelled him with horror. “Don't touch him, you +villain! You have killed him.” And then she shrieked again. + +At this moment Mr. Angelo dashed up, and saw at a glance what it was, +for he had studied medicine a little. He said, “It is epilepsy. Leave +him to me.” He managed, by his great strength, to keep the patient's +head down till the face got pale and the limbs still; then, telling +Lady Bassett not to alarm herself too much, he lifted Sir Charles, and +actually proceeded to carry him toward the house. Lady Bassett, +weeping, proffered her assistance, and so did Mary Wells; but this +athlete said, a little bruskly, “No, no; I have practiced this sort of +thing;” and, partly by his rare strength, partly by his familiarity +with all athletic feats, carried the insensible baronet to his own +house, as I have seen my accomplished friend Mr. Henry Neville carry a +tall actress on the mimic stage; only, the distance being much longer, +the perspiration rolled down Mr. Angelo's face with so sustained an +effort. + +He laid him gently on the floor of his study, while Lady Bassett sent +two grooms galloping for medical advice, and half a dozen servants +running for this and that stimulant, as one thing after another +occurred to her agitated mind. The very rustling of dresses and scurry +of feet overhead told all the house a great calamity had stricken it. + +Lady Bassett hung over the sufferer, sighing piteously, and was for +supporting his beloved head with her tender arm; but Mr. Angelo told +her it was better to keep the head low, that the blood might flow back +to the vessels of the brain. + +She cast a look of melting gratitude on her adviser, and composed +herself to apply stimulants under his direction and advice. + +Thus judiciously treated, Sir Charles began to recover consciousness in +part. He stared and muttered incoherently. Lady Bassett thanked God on +her knees, and then turned to Mr. Angelo with streaming eyes, and +stretched out both hands to him, with an indescribable eloquence of +gratitude. He gave her his hands timidly, and she pressed them both +with all her soul. Unconsciously she sent a rapturous thrill through +the young man's body: he blushed, and then turned pale, and felt for a +moment almost faint with rapture at that sweet and unexpected pressure +of her soft hands. + +But at this moment Sir Charles broke out in a sort of dry, +business-like voice, “I'll kill the viper and his brood!” Then he +stared at Mr. Angelo, and could not make him out at first. “Ah!” said +he, complacently, “this is my private tutor: a man of learning. I read +Homer with him; but I have forgotten it, all but one line-- + +“[greek]” + +“That's a beautiful verse. Homer, old boy, I'll take your advice. I'll +kill the heir at law, and his brat as well, and when they are dead and +well seasoned I'll sell them to that old timber-merchant, the devil, to +make hell hotter. Order my horse, somebody, this minute!” + +During this tirade Lady Bassett's hands kept clutching, as if to stop +it, and her eyes filled with horror. + +Mr. Angelo came again to her rescue. He affected to take it all as a +matter of course, and told the servants they need not wait, Sir Charles +was coming to himself by degrees, and the danger was all over. + +But when the servants were gone he said to Lady Bassett, seriously, “I +would not let any servant be about Sir Charles, except this one. She is +evidently attached to you. Suppose we take him to his own room.” + +He then made Mary Wells a signal, and they carried him upstairs. + +Sir Charles talked all the while with pitiable vehemence. Indeed, it +was a continuous babble, like a brook. + +Mary Wells was taking him into his own room, but Lady Bassett said, +“No: into my room. Oh, I will never let him out of my sight again.” + +Then they carried him into Lady Bassett's bedroom, and laid him gently +down on a couch there. + +He looked round, observed the locality, and uttered a little sigh of +complacency. He left off talking for the present, and seemed to doze. + +The place which exerted this soothing influence on Sir Charles had a +contrary and strange effect on Mr. Angelo. + +It was of palatial size, and lighted by two side windows, and an oriel +window at the end. The delicate stone shafts and mullions were such as +are oftener seen in cathedrals than in mansions. The deep embrasure was +filled with beautiful flowers and luscious exotic leaf-plants from the +hot-houses. The floor was of polished oak, and some feet of this were +left bare on all sides of the great Aubusson carpet made expressly for +the room. By this means cleanliness penetrated into every corner: the +oak was not only cleaned, but polished like a mirror. The curtains were +French chintzes, of substance, and exquisite patterns, and very +voluminous. On the walls was a delicate rose-tinted satin paper, to +which French art, unrivaled in these matters, had given the appearance +of being stuffed, padded, and divided into a thousand cozy pillows, by +gold-headed nails. + +The wardrobes were of satin-wood. The bedsteads, one small, one large, +were plain white, and gold in moderation. + +All this, however, was but the frame to the delightful picture of a +wealthy young lady's nest. + +The things that startled and thrilled Mr. Angelo were those his +imagination could see the fair mistress using. The exquisite toilet +table; the Dresden mirror, with its delicate china frame muslined and +ribboned; the great ivory-handled brushes, the array of cut-glass +gold-mounted bottles, and all the artillery of beauty; the baths of +various shapes and sizes, in which she laved her fair body; the bath +sheets, and the profusion of linen, fine and coarse; the bed, with its +frilled sheets, its huge frilled pillows, and its eider-down quilt, +covered with bright purple silk. + +A delicate perfume came through the wardrobes, where strata of fine +linen from Hamburg and Belfast lay on scented herbs; and this, +permeating the room, seemed the very perfume of Beauty itself, and +intoxicated the brain. Imagination conjured pictures proper to the +scene: a goddess at her toilet; that glorious hair lying tumbled on the +pillow, and burning in contrasted color with the snowy sheets and with +the purple quilt. + +From this reverie he was awakened by a soft voice that said, “How can I +ever thank you enough, sir?” + +Mr. Angelo controlled himself, and said, “By sending for me whenever I +can be of the slightest use.” Then, comprehending his danger, he added, +hastily, “And I fear I am none whatever now.” Then he rose to go. + +Lady Bassett gave him both her hands again, and this time he kissed one +of them, all in a flurry; he could not resist the temptation. Then he +hurried away, with his whole soul in a tumult. Lady Bassett blushed, +and returned to her husband's side. + +Doctor Willis came, heard the case, looked rather grave and puzzled, +and wrote the inevitable prescription; for the established theory is +that man is cured by drugs alone. + +Sir Charles wandered a little while the doctor was there, and continued +to wander after he was gone. + +Then Mary Wells begged leave to sleep in the dressing-room. + +Lady Bassett thanked her, but said she thought it unnecessary; a good +night's rest, she hoped, would make a great change in the sufferer. + +Mary Wells thought otherwise, and quietly brought her little bed into +the dressing-room and laid it on the floor. + +Her judgment proved right; Sir Charles was no better the next day, nor +the day after. He brooded for hours at a time, and, when he talked, +there was an incoherence in his discourse; above all, he seemed +incapable of talking long on any subject without coming back to the +fatal one of his childlessness; and, when he did return to this, it was +sure to make him either deeply dejected or else violent against Richard +Bassett and his son; he swore at them, and said they were waiting for +his shoes. + +Lady Bassett's anxiety deepened; strange fears came over her. She put +subtle questions to the doctor; he returned obscure answers, and went +on prescribing medicines that had no effect. + +She looked wistfully into Mary Wells's face, and there she saw her own +thoughts reflected. + +“Mary,” said she, one day, in a low voice, “what do they say in the +kitchen?” + +“Some say one thing, some another. What can they say? They never see +him, and never shall while I am here.” + +This reminded Lady Bassett that Mary's time was up. The idea of a +stranger taking her place, and seeing Sir Charles in his present +condition, was horrible to her. “Oh, Mary,” said she, piteously, +“surely you will not leave me just now?” + +“Do you wish me to stay, my lady?” + +“Can you ask it? How can I hope to find such devotion as yours, such +fidelity, and, above all, such secrecy? Ah, Mary, I am the most unhappy +lady in all England this day.” + +Then she began to cry bitterly, and Mary Wells cried with her, and said +she would stay as long as she could; “but,” said she, “I gave you good +advice, my lady, and so you will find.” + +Lady Bassett made no answer whatever, and that disappointed Mary, for +she wanted a discussion. + + + +The days rolled on, and brought no change for the better. Sir Charles +continued to brood on his one misfortune. He refused to go +out-of-doors, even into the garden, giving as his reason that he was +not fit to be seen. “I don't mind a couple of women,” said he, gravely, +“but no man shall see Charles Bassett in his present state. No. +Patience! Patience! I'll wait till Heaven takes pity on me. After all, +it would be a shame that such a race as mine should die out, and these +fine estates go to blackguards, and poachers, and anonymous-letter +writers.” + +Lady Bassett used to coax him to walk in the corridor; but, even then, +he ordered Mary Wells to keep watch and let none of the servants come +that way. From words he let fall it seems he thought “Childlessness” + was written on his face, and that it had somehow degraded his features. + +Now a wealthy and popular baronet could not thus immure himself for any +length of time without exciting curiosity, and setting all manner of +rumors afloat. Visitors poured into Huntercombe to inquire. + +Lady Bassett excused herself to many, but some of her own sex she +thought it best to encounter. This subjected her to the insidious +attacks of curiosity admirably veiled with sympathy. The assailants +were marvelously subtle; but so was the devoted wife. She gave kiss for +kiss, and equivoque for equivoque. She seemed grateful for each visit; +but they got nothing out of her except that Sir Charles's nerves were +shaken by his fall, and that she was playing the tyrant for once, and +insisting on absolute quiet for her patient. + +One visitor she never refused--Mr. Angelo. He, from the first, had been +her true friend; had carried Sir Charles away from the enemy, and then +had dismissed the gaping servants. She saw that he had divined her +calamity and she knew from things he said to her that he would never +breathe a word out-of-doors. She confided in him. She told him Mr. +Bassett was the real cause of all this misery: he had insulted Sir +Charles. The nature of this insult she suppressed. “And oh, Mr. +Angelo,” said she, “that man is my terror night and day! I don't know +what he can do, but I feel he will do something if he ever learns my +poor husband's condition.” + +“I trust, Lady Bassett, you are convinced he will learn nothing from +me. Indeed, I will tell the ruffian anything you like. He has been +sounding me a little; called to inquire after his poor cousin--the +hypocrite!” + +“How good you are! Please tell him absolute repose is prescribed for a +time, but there is no doubt of Sir Charles's ultimate recovery.” + +Mr. Angelo promised heartily. + +Mary Wells was not enough; a woman must have a man to lean on in +trouble, and Lady Bassett leaned on Mr. Angelo. She even obeyed him. +One day he told her that her own health would fail if she sat always in +the sick-room; she must walk an hour every day. + +_“Must_ I?” said she, sweetly. + +“Yes, even if it is only in your own garden.” + +From that time she used to walk with him nearly every day. + +Richard Bassett saw this from his tower of observation; saw it, and +chuckled. “Aha!” said he. “Husband sick in bed. Wife walking in the +garden with a young man--a parson, too. He is dark, she is fair. +Something will come of this. Ha, ha!” + +Lady Bassett now talked of sending to London for advice; but Mary Wells +dissuaded her. “Physic can't cure him. There's only one can cure him, +and that is yourself, my lady.” + +“Ah, would to Heaven I could!” + +“Try _my_ way, and you will see, my lady.” + +“What, _that_ way! Oh, no, no!” + +“Well, then, if you won't, nobody else can.” + +Such speeches as these, often repeated, on the one hand, and Sir +Charles's melancholy on the other, drove Lady Bassett almost wild with +distress and perplexity. + +Meanwhile her vague fears of Richard Bassett were being gradually +realized. + +Bassett employed Wheeler to sound Dr. Willis as to his patient's +condition. + +Dr. Willis, true to the honorable traditions of his profession, would +tell him nothing. But Dr. Willis had a wife. She pumped him: and +Wheeler pumped her. + +By this channel Wheeler got a somewhat exaggerated account of Sir +Charles's state. He carried it to Bassett, and the pair put their heads +together. + +The consultation lasted all night, and finally a comprehensive plan of +action was settled. Wheeler stipulated that the law should not be +broken in the smallest particular, but only stretched. + +Four days after this conference Mr. Bassett, Mr. Wheeler, and two +spruce gentlemen dressed in black, sat upon the “Heir's Tower,” + watching Huntercombe Hall. + +They watched, and watched, until they saw Mr. Angelo make his usual +daily call. + +Then they watched, and watched, until Lady Bassett and the young +clergyman came out and strolled together into the shrubbery. + +Then the two gentlemen went down the stairs, and were hastily conducted +by Bassett to Huntercombe Hall. + +They rang the bell, and the taller said, in a business-like voice, “Dr. +Mosely, from Dr. Willis.” + +Mary Wells was sent for, and Dr. Mosely said, “Dr. Willis is unable to +come to-day, and has sent me.” + +Mary Wells conducted him to the patient. The other gentleman followed. + +“Who is this?” said Mary. “I can't let all the world in to see him.” + +“It is Mr. Donkyn, the surgeon. Dr. Willis wished the patient to be +examined with the stethoscope. You can stay outside, Mr. Donkyn.” + +This new doctor announced himself to Sir Charles, felt his pulse, and +entered at once into conversation with him. + +Sir Charles was in a talking mood, and very soon said one or two +inconsecutive things. Dr. Mosely looked at Mary Wells and said he would +write a prescription. + +As soon as he had written it he said, very loud, “Mr. Donkyn!” + +The door instantly opened, and that worthy appeared on the threshold. + +“Oblige me,” said the doctor to his confrere, “by seeing this +prescription made up; and you can examine the patient yourself; but do +not fatigue him.” + +With this he retired swiftly, and strolled down the corridor, to wait +for his companion. + +He had not to wait long. Mr. Donkyn adopted a free and easy style with +Sir Charles, and that gentleman marked his sense of the indignity by +turning him out of the room, and kicking him industriously half-way +down the passage. + +Messrs. Mosely and Donkyn retired to Highmore. + +Bassett was particularly pleased at the baronet having kicked Donkyn; +so was Wheeler; so was Dr. Mosely. Donkyn alone did not share the +general enthusiasm. + +When Sir Charles had disposed of Mr. Donkyn he turned on Mary Wells, +and rated her soundly for bringing strangers into his room to gratify +their curiosity; and when Lady Bassett came in he made his formal +complaint, concluding with a proposal that one of two persons should +leave Huntercombe, forever, that afternoon--Mary Wells or Sir Charles +Bassett. + +Mary replied, not to him, but to her mistress, “He came from Dr. +Willis, my lady. It was Dr. Mosely; and the other gent was a surgeon.” + +“Two medical men, sent by Dr. Willis?” said Lady Bassett, knitting her +brow with wonder and a shade of doubt. + +“A couple of her own sweethearts, sent by herself,” suggested Sir +Charles. + +Lady Bassett sat down and wrote a hasty letter to Dr. Willis. “Send a +groom with it, as fast as he can ride,” said she; and she was much +discomposed and nervous and impatient till the answer came bade. + +Dr. Willis came in person. “I sent no one to take my place,” said he. +“I esteem my patient too highly to let any stranger prescribe for him +or even see him--for a few days to come.” + +Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and her eloquent face filled with an +undefinable terror. + +Mary Wells, being on her defense, put in her word. “I am sure he was a +doctor; for he wrote a prescription, and here 'tis.” + +Dr. Willis examined the prescription, with no friendly eye. + +“Acetate of morphia! The very worst thing that could be given him. This +is the favorite of the specialists. This fatal drug has eaten away a +thousand brains for one it has ever benefited.” + +“Ah!” said Lady Bassett. “'Specialists!' what are they?” + +“Medical men, who confine their practice to one disease.” + +“Mad-doctors, he means,” said the patient, very gravely. + +Lady Bassett turned very pale. “Then those were mad-doctors.” + +“Never you mind, Bella,” said Sir Charles. “I kicked the fellow +handsomely.” + +“I am sorry to hear it, Sir Charles.” + +“Why?” + +Dr. Willis looked at Lady Bassett, as much as to say, “I shall not give +_him_ my real reason;” and then said, “I think it very undesirable you +should be excited and provoked, until your health is thoroughly +restored.” + +Dr. Willis wrote a prescription, and retired. + +Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and trembled all over. Her divining fit +was on her; she saw the hand of the enemy, and filled with vague fears. + +Mary Wells tried to, comfort her. “I'll take care no more strangers get +in here,” said she. “And, my lady, if you are afraid, why not have the +keepers, and two or three more, to sleep in the house? for, as for them +footmen, they be too soft to fight.” + +“I will,” said Lady Bassett; “but I fear it will be no use. Our enemy +has so many resources unknown to me. How can a poor woman fight with a +shadow, that comes in a moment and strikes; and then is gone and leaves +his victim trembling?” + +Then she slipped into the dressing-room and became hysterical, out of +her husband's sight and hearing. + +Mary Wells nursed her, and, when she was better, whispered in her ear, +“Lose no more time, then. Cure him. You know the way.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN the present condition of her mind these words produced a strange +effect on Lady Bassett. She quivered, and her eyes began to rove in +that peculiar way I have already noticed; and then she started up and +walked wildly to and fro; and then she kneeled down and prayed; and +then, alarmed, perplexed, exhausted, she went and leaned her head on +her patient's shoulder, and wept softly a long time. + +Some days passed, and no more strangers attempted to see Sir Charles. + +Lady Bassett was beginning to breathe again, when she was afflicted by +an unwelcome discovery. + +Mary Wells fainted away so suddenly that, but for Lady Bassett's quick +eye and ready hand, she would have fallen heavily. + +Lady Bassett laid her head down and loosened her stays, and discovered +her condition. She said nothing till the young woman was well, and then +she taxed her with it. + +Mary denied it plump; but, seeing her mistress's disgust at the +falsehood, she owned it with many tears. + +Being asked how she could so far forget herself, she told Lady Bassett +she had long been courted by a respectable young man; he had come to +the village, bound on a three years' voyage, to bid her good-by, and, +what with love and grief at parting, they had been betrayed into folly; +and now he was on the salt seas, little dreaming in what condition he +had left her: “and,” said she, “before ever he can write to me, and I +to him, I shall be a ruined girl; that is why I wanted to put an end to +myself; I _will,_ too, unless I can find some way to hide it from the +world.” + +Lady Bassett begged her to give up those desperate thoughts; she would +think what could be done for her. Lady Bassett could say no more to her +just then, for she was disgusted with her. + +But when she came to reflect that, after all, this was not a lady, and +that she appeared by her own account to be the victim of affection and +frailty rather than of vice, she made some excuses; and then the girl +had laid aside her trouble, her despair, and given her sorrowful mind +to nursing and comforting Sir Charles. This would have outweighed a +crime, and it made the wife's bowels yearn over the unfortunate girl. +“Mary,” said she, “others must judge you; I am a wife, and can only see +your fidelity to my poor husband. I don't know what I shall do without +you, but I think it is my duty to send you to him if possible. You are +sure he really loves you?” + +“Me cross the seas after a young man?” said Mary Wells. “I'd as lieve +hang myself on the nighest tree and make an end. No, my lady, if you +are really my friend, let me stay here as long as I can--I will never +go downstairs to be seen--and then give me money enough to get my +trouble over unbeknown to my sister; she is all my fear. She is married +to a gentleman, and got plenty of money, and I shall never want while +she lives, and behave myself; but she would never forgive me if she +knew. She is a hard woman; she is not like you, my lady. I'd liever cut +my hand off than I'd trust her as I would you.” + +Lady Bassett was not quite insensible to this compliment; but she felt +uneasy. + +“What, help you to deceive your sister?” + +“For her good. Why, if any one was to go and tell her about me now, +she'd hate them for telling her almost as much as she would hate me.” + +Lady Bassett was sore perplexed. Unable to see quite clear in the +matter, she naturally reverted to her husband and his interest. That +dictated her course. She said, “Well, stay with us, Mary, as long as +you can; and then money shall not be wanting to hide your shame from +all the world; but I hope when the time comes you will alter your mind +and tell your sister. May I ask what her name is?” + +Mary, after a moment's hesitation, said her name was Marsh. + +“I know a Mrs. Marsh,” said Lady Bassett; “but, of course, that is not +your sister. My Mrs. Marsh is rather fair.” + +“So is my sister, for that matter.” + +“And tall?” + +“Yes; but you never saw her. You'd never forget her it you had. She has +got eyes like a lion.” + +“Ah! Does she ride?” + +“Oh, she is famous for that; and driving, and all.” + +“Indeed! But no; I see no resemblance.” + +“Oh, she is only my half-sister.” + +“This is very strange.” + +Lady Bassett put her hand to her brow, and thought. + +“Mary,” said she, “all this is very mysterious. We are wading in deep +waters.” + +Mary Wells had no idea what she meant. + +The day was not over yet. Just before dinner-time a fly from the +station drove to the door, and Mr. Oldfield got out. + +He was detained in the hall by sentinel Moss. + +Lady Bassett came down to him. At the very sight of him she trembled, +and said, “Richard Bassett?” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Oldfield, “he is in the field again. He has been to the +Court of Chancery _ex parte,_ and obtained an injunction _ad interim_ +to stay waste. Not another tree must be cut down on the estate for the +present.” + +“Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another tree shall be +felled on the grounds.” + +“Of course not. But they will not stop there. If we do not move to +dissolve the injunction, I fear they will go on and ask the Court to +administer the estate, with a view to all interests concerned, +especially those of the heir at law and his son.” + +“What, while my husband lives?” + +“If they can prove him dead in law.” + +“I don't understand you, Mr. Oldfield.” + +“They have got affidavits of two medical men that he is insane.” + +Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand to her heart. + +“And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall of timber as a +further proof, and also as a reason why the Court should interfere to +protect the heir at law. Their case is well got up and very strong,” + said Mr. Oldfield, regretfully. + +“Well, but you are a lawyer, and you have always beaten them hitherto.” + +“I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. To be frank, Lady +Bassett, I don't see what I can do but watch the case, on the chance of +some error or illegality. It is very hard to fight a case when you +cannot put your client forward--and I suppose that would not be safe. +How unfortunate that you have no children!” + +“Children! How could they help us?” + +“What a question! How could Richard Bassett move the Court if he was +not the heir at law?” + +After a long conference Mr. Oldfield returned to town to see what he +could do in the way of procrastination, and Lady Bassett promised to +leave no stone unturned to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. +Oldfield was to write immediately if any fresh step was taken. + +When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady Bassett pondered every word he had +said, and, mild as she was, her rage began to rise against her +husband's relentless enemy. Her wits worked, her eyes roved in that +peculiar half-savage way I have described. She became intolerably +restless; and any one acquainted with her sex might see that some +strange conflict was going on in her troubled mind. + +Every now and then she would come and cling to her husband, and cry +over him; and that seemed to still the tumult of her soul a little. + +She never slept all that night, and next day, clinging in her helpless +agony to the nearest branch, she told Mary Wells what Bassett was +doing, and said, “What shall I do? He is not mad; but he is in so very +precarious a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they will +drive him mad indeed.” + +“My lady,” said Mary Wells, “I can't go from my word. 'Tis no use in +making two bites of a cherry. We must cure him: and if we don't, you'll +never rue it but once, and that will be all your life.” + +“I should look on myself with horror afterward were I to deceive him +now.” + +“No, my lady, you are too fond of him for that. Once you saw him happy +you'd be happy too, no matter how it came about. That Richard Bassett +will turn him out of this else. I am sure he will; he is a hard-hearted +villain.” + +Lady Bassett's eyes flashed fire; then her eyes roved; then she sighed +deeply. + +Her powers of resistance were beginning to relax. As for Mary Wells, +she gave her no peace; she kept instilling her mind into her mistress's +with the pertinacity of a small but ever-dripping fount, and we know +both by science and poetry that small, incessant drops of water will +wear a hole in marble. + +“Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed saepe cadendo.” + +And in the midst of all a letter came from Mr. Oldfield, to tell her +that Mr. Bassett threatened to take out a commission _de lunatico,_ and +she must prepare Sir Charles for an examination; for, if reported +insane, the Court would administer the estates; but the heir at law, +Mr. Bassett, would have the ear of the Court and the right of +application, and become virtually master of Huntercombe and Bassett; +and, perhaps, considering the spirit by which he was animated, would +contrive to occupy the very Hall itself. Lady Bassett was in the +dressing-room when she received this blow, and it drove her almost +frantic. She bemoaned her husband; she prayed God to take them both, +and let their enemy have his will. She wept and raved, and at the +height of her distress came from the other room a feeble cry, +“Childless! childless! childless!” + +Lady Bassett heard that, and in one moment, from violent she became +unnaturally and dangerously calm. She said firmly to Mary Wells, “This +is more than I can bear. You pretend you can save him--do it.” + +Mary Wells now trembled in her turn; but she seized the opportunity. +“My lady, whatever I say you'll stand to?” + +“Whatever you say I'll stand to.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +MARY WELLS, like other uneducated women, was not accustomed to think +long and earnestly on any one subject; to use an expression she once +applied with far less justice to her sister, her mind was like running +water. + +But gestation affects the brains of such women, and makes them think +more steadily, and sometimes very acutely; added to which, the peculiar +dangers and difficulties that beset this girl during that anxious +period stimulated her wits to the very utmost. Often she sat quite +still for hours at a time, brooding and brooding, and asking herself +how she could turn each new and unexpected event to her own benefit. +Now so much does mental force depend on that exercise of keen and long +attention, in which her sex is generally deficient, that this young +woman's powers were more than doubled since the day she first +discovered her condition, and began to work her brains night and day +for her defense. + +Gradually, as events I have related unfolded themselves, she caught a +glimpse of this idea, that if she could get her mistress to have a +secret, her mistress would help her to keep her own. Hence her +insidious whispers, and her constant praises of Mr. Angelo, who, she +saw, was infatuated with Lady Bassett. Yet the designing creature was +actually fond of her mistress: and so strangely compounded is a heart +of this low kind that the extraordinary step she now took was half +affectionate impulse, half egotistical design. + +She made a motion with her hand inviting Lady Bassett to listen, and +stepped into Sir Charles's room. + +“Childless! childless! childless!” + +“Hush, sir,” said Mary Wells. “Don't say so. We shan't be many mouths +without one, please Heaven.” + +Sir Charles shook his head sadly. + +“Don't you believe me?” + +“No.” + +“What, did ever I tell you a lie?” + +“No: but you are mistaken. She would have told me.” + +“Well, sir, my lady is young and shy, and I think she is afraid of +disappointing you after all; for you know, sir, there's many a slip +'twixt the cup and the lip. But 'tis as I tell you, sir.” + +Sir Charles was much agitated, and said he would give her a hundred +guineas if that was true. “Where is my darling wife? Why do I hear this +through a servant?” + +Mary Wells cast a look at the door, and said, for Lady Bassett to hear, +“She is receiving company. Now, sir, I have told you good news; will +you do something to oblige me? You shouldn't speak of it direct to my +lady just yet; and if you want all to go well, you mustn't vex my lady +as you are doing now. What I mean, you mustn't be so downhearted-- +there's no reason for't--and you mustn't coop yourself up on this +floor: it sets the folks talking, and worries my lady. You should give +her every chance, being the way she is.” + +Sir Charles said eagerly he would not vex her for the world. “I'll walk +in the garden,” said he; “but as for going abroad, you know I am not in +a fit condition yet; my mind is clouded.” + +“Not as I see.” + +“Oh, not always. But sometimes a cloud seems to get into my head; and +if I was in public I might do or say something discreditable. I would +rather die.” + +“La, sir!” said Mary Wells, in a broad, hearty way--“a cloud in your +head! You've had a bad fall, and a fit at top on't, and no wonder your +poor head do ache at times. You'll outgrow that--if you take the air +and give over fretting about the t'other thing. I tell you you'll hear +the music of a child's voice and little feet a-pattering up and down +this here corridor before so very long--if so be you take my advice, +and leave off fretting my lady with fretting of yourself. You should +consider: she is too fond of you to be well when you be ill.” + +“I'll get well for her sake,” said Sir Charles, firmly. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mary Wells opened it so +that the servant could see nothing. + +“Mr. Angelo has called.” + +“My lady will be down directly.” + +Mary Wells then slipped into the dressing-room, and found Lady Bassett +looking pale and wild. She had heard every word. + +“There, he is better already,” said Mary Wells. “He shall walk in the +garden with you this afternoon.” + +“What have you done? I can't look him in the face now. Suppose he +speaks to me?” + +“He will not. I'll manage that. You won't have to say a word. Only +listen to what I say, and don't make a liar of me. He is better +already.” + +“How will this end?” cried Lady Bassett, helplessly. “What shall I do?” + +“You must go downstairs, and not come here for an hour at least, or +you'll spoil my work. Mr. Angelo is in the drawing-room.” + +“I will go to him.” + +Lady Bassett slipped out by the other door, and it was three hours, +instead of one, before she returned. + +For the first time in her life she was afraid to face her husband. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +MEANTIME Mary Wells had a long conversation with her master; and after +that she retired into the adjoining room, and sat down to sew +baby-linen clandestinely. + +After a considerable tune Lady Bassett came in, and, sinking into a +chair, covered her face with her hands. She had her bonnet on. + +Mary Wells looked at her with black eyes that flashed triumph. + +After so surveying her for some time she said: “I have been at him +again, and there's a change for the better already. He is not the same +man. You go and see else.” + +Lady Bassett now obeyed her servant: she rose and crept like a culprit +into Sir Charles's room. She found him clean shaved, dressed to +perfection, and looking more cheerful than she had seen him for many a +long day. “Ah, Bella,” said he, “you have your bonnet on; let us have a +walk in the garden.” + +Lady Bassett opened her eyes and consented eagerly, though she was very +tired. + +They walked together; and Sir Charles, being a man that never broke his +word, put no direct question to Lady Bassett, but spoke cheerfully of +the future, and told her she was his hope and his all; she would baffle +his enemy, and cheer his desolate hearth. + +She blushed, and looked confused and distressed; then he smiled, and +talked of indifferent matters, until a pain in his head stopped him; +then he became confused, and, putting his hand piteously to his head, +proposed to retire at once to his own room. + +Lady Bassett brought him in, and he reposed in silence on the sofa. + +The next day, and, indeed, many days afterward, presented similar +features. + +Mary Wells talked to her master of the bright days to come, of the joy +that would fill the house if all went well, and of the defeat in store +for Richard Bassett. She spoke of this man with strange virulence; said +“she would think no more of sticking a knife into him than of eating +her dinner;” and in saying this she showed the white of her eye in a +manner truly savage and vindictive. + +To hurt the same person is a surer bond than to love the same person; +and this sentiment of Mary Wells, coupled with her uniform kindness to +himself, gave her great influence with Sir Charles in his present +weakened condition. Moreover, the young woman had an oily, persuasive +tongue; and she who persuades us is stronger than he who convinces us. + +Thus influenced, Sir Charles walked every day in the garden with his +wife, and forbore all direct allusion to her condition, though his +conversation was redolent of it. + +He was still subject to sudden collapses of the intellect; but he +became conscious when they were coming on; and at the first warning he +would insist on burying himself in his room. + +After some days he consented to take short drives with Lady Bassett in +the open carriage. This made her very joyful. Sir Charles refused to +enter a single house, so high was his pride and so great his terror +lest he should expose himself; but it was a great point gained that she +could take him about the county, and show him in the character of a +mere invalid. + +Every thing now looked like a cure, slow, perhaps, but progressive; and +Lady Bassett had her joyful hours, yet not without a bitter alloy: her +divining mind asked itself what she should say and do when Sir Charles +should be quite recovered. This thought tormented her, and sometimes so +goaded her that she hated Mary Wells for her well-meant interference, +and, by a natural recoil from the familiarity circumstances had forced +on her, treated that young woman with great coldness and hauteur. + +The artful girl met this with extreme meekness and servility; the only +reply she ever hazarded was an adroit one; she would take this +opportunity to say, “How much better master do get ever since I took in +hand to cure him!” + +This oblique retort seldom failed. Lady Bassett would look at her +husband, and her face would clear; and she would generally end by +giving Mary a collar, or a scarf, or something. + +Thus did circumstances enable the lower nature to play with the higher. +Lady Bassett's struggles were like those of a bird in a silken net; +they led to nothing. When it came to the point she could neither do nor +say any thing to retard his cure. Any day the Court of Chancery, set in +motion by Richard Bassett, might issue a commission _de lunatico,_ and, +if Sir Charles was not cured by that time, Richard Bassett would +virtually administer the estate--so Mr. Oldfield had told her--and +that, she felt sure, would drive Sir Charles mad for life. + +So there was no help for it. She feared, she writhed, she hated +herself; but Sir Charles got better daily, and so she let herself drift +along. + +Mary Wells made it fatally easy to her. She was the agent. Lady Bassett +was silent and passive. + +After all she had a hope of extrication. Sir Charles once cured, she +would make him travel Europe with her. Money would relieve her of Mary +Wells, and distance cut all the other cords. + +And, indeed, a time came when she looked back on her present situation +with wonder at the distress it had caused her. “I was in shallow water +then,” said she--“but now!” + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +SIR CHARLES observed that he was never trusted alone. He remarked this, +and inquired, with a peculiar eye, why that was. + +Lady Bassett had the tact to put on an innocent look and smile, and +say: “That is true, dearest. I _have_ tied you to my apron-string +without mercy. But it serves you right for having fits and frightening +me. You get well, and my tyranny will cease at once.” + +However, after this she often left him alone in the garden, to remove +from his mind the notion that he was under restraint from her. + +Mr. Bassett observed this proceeding from his tower. + +One day Mr. Angelo called, and Lady Bassett left Sir Charles in the +garden, to go and speak to him. + +She had not been gone many minutes when a boy ran to Sir Charles, and +said, “Oh, sir, please come to the gate; the lady has had a fall, and +hurt herself.” + +Sir Charles, much alarmed, followed the boy, who took him to a side +gate opening on the high-road. Sir Charles rushed through this, and was +passing between two stout fellows that stood one on each side the gate, +when they seized him, and lifted him in a moment into a close carriage +that was waiting on the spot. He struggled, and cried loudly for +assistance; but they bundled him in and sprang in after him; a third +man closed the door, and got up by the side of the coachman. He drove +off, avoiding the village, soon got upon a broad road, and bowled along +at a great rate, the carriage being light, and drawn by two powerful +horses. + +So cleverly and rapidly was it done that, but for a woman's quick ear, +the deed might not have been discovered for hours; but Mary Wells heard +the cry for help through an open window, recognized Sir Charles's +voice, and ran screaming downstairs to Lady Bassett: she ran wildly +out, with Mr. Angelo, to look for Sir Charles. He was nowhere to be +found. Then she ordered every horse in the stables to be saddled; and +she ran with Mary to the place where the cry had been heard. + +For some time no intelligence whatever could be gleaned; but at last an +old man was found who said he had heard somebody cry out, and soon +after that a carriage had come tearing by him, and gone round the +corner: but this direction was of little value, on account of the many +roads, any one of which it might have taken. + +However, it left no doubt that Sir Charles had been taken away from the +place by force. + +Terror-stricken, and pale as death, Lady Bassett never lost her head +for a moment. Indeed, she showed unexpected fire; she sent off coachman +and grooms to scour the country and rouse the gentry to help her; she +gave them money, and told them not to come back till they had found Sir +Charles. + +Mr. Angelo said, eagerly, “I'll go to the nearest magistrate, and we +will arrest Richard Bassett on suspicion.” + +“God bless you, dear friend!” sobbed Lady Bassett. “Oh, yes, it is his +doing--murderer!” + +Off went Mr. Angelo on his errand. + +He was hardly gone when a man was seen running and shouting across the +fields. Lady Bassett went to meet him, surrounded by her humble +sympathizers. It was young Drake: he came up panting, with a +double-barreled gun in his hand (for he was allowed to shoot rabbits on +his own little farm), and stammered out, “Oh, my lady--Sir +Charles--they have carried him off against his will!” + +“Who? Where? Did you see him?” + +“Ay, and heerd him and all. I was ferreting rabbits by the side of the +turnpike-road yonder, and a carriage came tearing along, and Sir +Charles put out his head and cried to me,' Drake, they are kidnapping +me. Shoot!' But they pulled him back out of sight.” + +“Oh, my poor husband! And did you let them? Oh!” + +“Couldn't catch 'em, my lady: so I did as I was bid; got to my gun as +quick as ever I could, and gave the coachman both barrels hot.” + +“What, kill him?” + +“Lord, no; 'twas sixty yards off; but made him holler and squeak a good +un. Put thirty or forty shots into his back, I know.” + +“Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I'll never forget that shot.” Then she +began to cry. + +“Doant ye, my lady, doant ye,” said the honest fellow, and was within +an ace of blubbering for sympathy. “We ain't a lot o' babies, to see +our squire kidnaped. If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a couple +o' nags, we'll catch them yet, my lady.” + +“That we will,” cried Abel. “You take me where you fired that shot, and +we'll follow the fresh wheel-tracks. They can't beat us while they keep +to a road.” + +The two men were soon mounted, and in pursuit, amid the cheers of the +now excited villagers. But still the perpetrators of the outrage had +more than an hour's start; and an hour was twelve miles. + +And now Lady Bassett, who had borne up so bravely, was seized with a +deadly faintness, and supported into the house. + +All this spread like wild-fire, and roused the villagers, and they must +have a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. Bassett was to blame; and that +passed from one to another, and so fermented that, in the evening, a +crowd collected round Highmore House and demanded Mr. Bassett. + +The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at home. + +Then the men demanded boisterously what he had done with Sir Charles, +and threatened to break the windows unless they were told; and, as +nobody in the house could tell them, the women egged on the men, and +they did break the windows; but they no sooner saw their own work than +they were a little alarmed at it, and retired, talking very loud to +support their waning courage and check their rising remorse at their +deed. + +They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor little Mrs. +Bassett half dead with fright. + +As for Lady Bassett, she spent a horrible night of terror, suspense, +and agony. She could not lie down, nor even sit still; she walked +incessantly, wringing her hands, and groaning for news. + +Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it was a situation +beyond the power of words to alleviate. + +Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o'clock in the morning; and +then, in the still night, horses' feet came clattering up to the door. + +Lady Bassett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted by a single lamp. +The great door was opened, and in clattered Moss and Drake, splashed +and weary and downcast. + +“Well?” cried Lady Bassett, clasping her hands. + +“My lady,” said Moss, “we tracked the carriage into the next county, to +a place thirty miles from here--to a lodge--and there they stopped us. +The place is well guarded with men and great big dogs. We heerd 'em +bark, didn't us, Will?” + +“Ay,” said Drake, dejectedly. + +“The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. Says he, 'This is a +place nobody comes in but by law, and nobody goes out but by law. If +the gentleman is here you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough.'” + +“A prison? No!” + +“A 'sylum, my lady.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE lady put her hand to her heart, and was silent a long time. + +At last she said, doggedly but faintly, “You will go with me to that +place to-morrow, one of you.” + +“I'll go, my lady,” said Moss. “Will, here, had better not show his +face. They might take the law on him for that there shot.” + +Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently cooled by discovering +that Sir Charles had been taken to a mad-house. + +Lady Bassett saw and sighed, and said she would take Moss to show her +the way. + +At eleven o'clock next morning a light carriage and pair came round to +the Hall gate, and a large basket, a portmanteau, and a bag were placed +on the roof under care of Moss; smaller packages were put inside; and +Lady Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black. + +They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The lodge-gate was open, +to Lady Bassett's surprise, and they drove through some pleasant +grounds to a large white house. + +The place at first sight had no distinctive character: great ingenuity +had been used to secure the inmates without seeming to incarcerate +them. There were no bars to the lower front windows, and the side +windows, with their defenses, were shrouded by shrubs. The sentinels +were out of sight, or employed on some occupation or other, but within +call. Some patients were playing at cricket; some ladies looking on; +others strolling on the gravel with a nurse, dressed very much like +themselves, who did not obtrude her functions unnecessarily. All was +apparent indifference, and Argus-eyed vigilance. So much for the +surface. + +Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked rooms had violent +and miserable inmates. + +The hall door opened as the carriage drew up; a respectable servant +came forward. + +Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, “I am come to see my +husband, sir.” + +The man never moved a muscle, but said, “You must wait, if you please, +till I take your card in.” + +He soon returned, and said, “Dr. Suaby is not here, but the gentleman +in charge will see you.” + +Lady Bassett got out, and, beckoning Mary Wells, followed the servant +into a curious room, half library, half chemist's shop; they called it +“the laboratory.” + +Here she found a tall man leaning on a dirty mantelpiece, who received +her stiffly. He had a pale mustache, very thin lips, and altogether a +severe manner. His head bald, rather prematurely, and whiskers +abundant. + +Lady Bassett looked him all over with one glance of her woman's eye, +and saw she had a hard and vain man to deal with. + +“Are you the gentleman to whom this house belongs?” she faltered. + +“No, madam; I am in charge during Dr. Suaby's absence.” + +“That comes to the same thing. Sir, I am come to see my dear husband.” + +“Have you an order?” + +“An order, sir? I am his wife.” + +Mr. Salter shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, “I have no +authority to let any visitor see a patient without an order from the +person by whose authority he is placed here, or else an order from the +commissioners.” + +“But that cannot apply to his wife; to her who is one with him, for +better for worse, in sickness or health.” + +“It seems hard; but I have no discretion in the matter. The patient +only came yesterday--much excited. He is better to-day, and an +interview with you would excite him again.” + +“Oh no! no! no! I can always soothe him. I will be so mild, so gentle. +You can be present, and hear every word I say. I will only kiss him, +and tell him who has done this, and to be brave, for his wife watches +over him; and, sir, I will beg him to be patient, and not blame you nor +any of the people here.” + +“Very proper, very proper; but really this interview must be postponed +till you have an order, or Dr. Suaby returns. He can violate his own +rules if he likes; but I cannot, and, indeed, I dare not.” + +“Dare not let a lady see her husband? Then you are not a man. Oh, can +this be England? It is too inhuman.” + +Then she began to cry and wring her hands. + +“This is very painful,” said Mr. Salter, and left the room. + +The respectable servant looked in soon after, and Lady Bassett told +him, between her sobs, that she had brought some clothes and things for +her husband. “Surely, sir,” said she, “they will not refuse me that?” + +“Lord, no, ma'am,” said the man. “You can give them to the keeper and +nurse in charge of him.” + +Lady Bassett slipped a guinea into the man's hand directly. “Let me see +those people,” said she. + +The man winked, and vanished: he soon reappeared, and said, loudly, +“Now, madam, if you will order the things into the hall.” + +Lady Bassett came out and gave the order. + +A short, bull-necked man, and rather a pretty young woman with a +flaunting cap, bestirred themselves getting down the things; and Mr. +Salter came out and looked on. + +Lady Bassett called Mary Wells, and gave her a five-pound note to slip +into the man's hand. She telegraphed the girl, who instantly came near +her with an India rubber bath, and, affecting ignorance, asked her what +that was. + +Lady Bassett dropped three sovereigns into the bath, and said, “Ten +times, twenty times that, if you are kind to him. Tell him it is his +cousin's doing, but his wife watches over him.” + +“All right,” said the girl. “Come again when the doctor is here.” + +All this passed, in swift whispers, a few yards from Mr. Salter, and he +now came forward and offered his arm to conduct Lady Bassett to the +carriage. + +But the wretched, heart-broken wife forgot her art of pleasing. She +shrank from him with a faint cry of aversion, and got into her carriage +unaided. Mary Wells followed her. + +Mr. Salter was unwilling to receive this rebuff. He followed, and said, +“The clothes shall be given, with any message you may think fit to +intrust to me.” + +Lady Bassett turned away sharply from him, and said to Mary Wells, +“Tell him to drive home. Home! I have none now. Its light is torn from +me.” + +The carriage drove away as she uttered these piteous words. + +She cried at intervals all the way home; and could hardly drag herself +upstairs to bed. + +Mr. Angelo called next day with bad news. Not a magistrate would move a +finger against Mr. Bassett: he had the law on his side. Sir Charles was +evidently insane; it was quite proper he should be put in security +before he did some mischief to himself or Lady Bassett. “They say, why +was he hidden for two months, if there was not something very wrong?” + +Lady Bassett ordered the carriage and paid several calls, to counteract +this fatal impression. + +She found, to her horror, she might as well try to move a rock. There +was plenty of kindness and pity; but the moment she began to assure +them her husband was not insane she was met with the dead silence of +polite incredulity. One or two old friends went further, and said, “My +dear, we are told he could not be taken away without two doctors' +certificates: now, consider, they must know better than you. Have +patience, and let them cure him.” + +Lady Bassett withdrew her friendship on the spot from two ladies for +contradicting her on such a subject; she returned home almost wild +herself. + +In the village her carriage was stopped by a woman with her hair all +flying, who told her, in a lamentable voice, that Squire Bassett had +sent nine men to prison for taking Sir Charles's part and ill-treating +his captors. + +“My lawyer shall defend them at my expense,” said Lady Bassett, with a +sigh. + +At last she got home, and went up to her own room, and there was Mary +Wells waiting to dress her. + +She tottered in, and sank into a chair. But, after this temporary +exhaustion, came a rising tempest of passion; her eyes roved, her +fingers worked, and her heart seemed to come out of her in words of +fire. “I have not a friend in all the county. That villain has only to +say 'Mad,' and all turn from me, as if an angel of truth had said +'Criminal.' We have no friend but one, and she is my servant. Now go +and envy wealth and titles. No wife in this parish is so poor as I; +powerless in the folds of a serpent. I can't see my husband without an +order from _him._ He is all power, I and mine all weakness.” She raised +her clinched fists, she clutched her beautiful hair as if she would +tear it out by the roots. “I shall, go mad! I shall go mad! No!” said +she, all of a sudden. “That will not do. That is what he wants--and +then my darling _would_ be defenseless. I will not go mad.” Then +suddenly grinding her white teeth: “I'll teach him to drive a lady to +despair. I'll fight.” + +She descended, almost without a break, from the fury of a Pythoness to +a strange calm. Oh! then it is her sex are dangerous. + +“Don't look so pale,” said she, and she actually smiled. “All is fair +against so foul a villain. You and I will defeat him. Dress me, Mary.” + +Mary Wells, carried away by the unusual violence of a superior mind, +was quite bewildered. + +Lady Bassett smiled a strange smile, and said, “I'll show you how to +dress me;” and she did give her a lesson that astonished her. + +“And now,” said Lady Bassett, “I shall dress you.” And she took a loose +full dress out of her wardrobe, and made Mary Wells put it on; but +first she inserted some stuffing so adroitly that Mary seemed very +buxom, but what she wished to hide was hidden. Not so Lady Bassett +herself. Her figure looked much rounder than in the last dress she +wore. + +With all this she was late for dinner, and when she went down Mr. +Angelo had just finished telling Mr. Oldfield of the mishap to the +villagers. + +Lady Bassett came in animated and beautiful. + +Dinner was announced directly, and a commonplace conversation kept up +till the servants were got rid of. She then told Mr. Oldfield how she +had been refused admittance to Sir Charles at Bellevue House, a plain +proof, to her mind, they knew her husband was not insane; and begged +him to act with energy, and get Sir Charles out before his reason could +be permanently injured by the outrage and the horror of his situation. + +This led to a discussion, in which Mr. Angelo and Lady Bassett threw +out various suggestions, and Mr. Oldfield cooled their ardor with sound +objections. He was familiar with the Statutes de Lunatico, and said +they had been strictly observed both in the capture of Sir Charles and +in Mr. Salter's refusal to let the wife see the husband. In short, he +appeared either unable or unwilling to see anything except the strong +legal position of the adverse party. + +Mr. Oldfield was one of those prudent lawyers who search for the +adversary's strong points, that their clients may not be taken by +surprise; and that is very wise of them. But wise things require to be +done wisely: he sometimes carried this system so far as to discourage +his client too much. It is a fine thing to make your client think his +case the weaker of the two, and then win it for him easily; that +gratifies your own foible, professional vanity. But suppose, with your +discouraging him so, he flings up or compromises a winning case? +Suppose he takes the huff and goes to some other lawyer, who will warm +him with hopes instead of cooling him with a one-sided and hostile view +of his case? + +In the present discussion Mr. Oldfield's habit of beginning by admiring +his adversaries, together with his knowledge of law and little else, +and his secret conviction that Sir Charles was unsound of mind, +combined to paralyze him; and, not being a man of invention, he could +not see his way out of the wood at all; he could negative Mr. Angelo's +suggestions and give good reasons, but he could not, or did not, +suggest anything better to be done. + +Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a bitter smile, and +said, at last, with a sigh: “It seems, then, we are to sit quiet and do +nothing, while Mr. Bassett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow. +There! I'll fight my own battle; and do you try and find some way of +defending the poor souls that are in trouble because they did not sit +with their hands before them when their benefactor was outraged. +Command my purse, if money will save them from prison.” + +Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelopard all down the +room on the side opposite to Mr. Oldfield. Angelo flew to open the +door, and in a whisper begged a word with her in private. She bowed +ascent, and passed on from the room. + +“What a fine creature!” said Mr. Oldfield. “How she walks!” + +Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what was to be done for +the poor men: “they will be up before the Bench to-morrow.” + +Stung a little by Lady Bassett's remark, Mr. Oldfield answered, +promptly, “We must get some tradesmen to bail them with our money. It +will only be a few pounds apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shall +offer pecuniary compensation, and get up a defense; find somebody to +swear Sir Charles was sane--that sort of evidence is always to be got. +Counsel must do the rest. Simple natives--benefactor outraged--honest +impulse--regretted, the moment they understood the capture had been +legally made. Then throw dirt on the plaintiff. He is malicious, and +can be proved to have forsworn himself in Bassett _v._ Bassett.” + +A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. “If you please, sir, +my lady is tired, and she wishes to say a word to you before she goes +upstairs.” + +“Excuse me one minute,” said Mr. Angelo, and followed Mary Wells. She +ushered him into a boudoir, where he found Lady Bassett seated in an +armchair, with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on the +carpet. + +She smiled faintly, and said, “Well, what do you wish to say to me?” + +“It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent.” + +“I don't know. I snubbed him, poor man: but if the law is all against +us!” + +“How does he know that? He assumes it because he is prejudiced in favor +of the enemy. How does he _know_ they have done _everything_ the Act of +Parliament requires? And, if they have, Law is not invincible. When Law +defies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled on in all civilized +communities.” + +“I never heard that before.” + +“But you would if you had been at Oxford,” said he, smiling. + +“Ah!” + +“What we want is a man of genius, of invention; a man who will see +every chance, take every chance, lawful or unlawful, and fight with all +manner of weapons.” + +Lady Bassett's eye flashed a moment. “Ah!” said she; “but where can I +find such a man, with knowledge to guide his zeal?” + +“I think I know of a man who could at all events advise you, if you +would ask him.” + +“Ah! Who?” + +“He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he has +talent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing is +certain--his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he is +in earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out of +confinement.” + +“Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once.” + +“He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send an +outline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can advise +you in the matter?” + +“You may; and thank you a thousand times!” + +“A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surely +throw some light.” + +“One would think so, dear friend.” + +“I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhaps +get an answer the day after to-morrow.” + +“Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. A +writer, did you say? What does he write?” + +“Fiction.” + +“What, novels?” + +“And dramas and all.” + +Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. “I should never think of going to +Fiction for wisdom.” + +“When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the +consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation +saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that +one wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction.” + +“Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me. +One swallow does not make summer, for all that.” + +“But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they are +works of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as a +novelist.” + +“Oh, if he is a lawyer!” + +“Then I may write?” + +“Yes,” said Lady Bassett, despondingly. + +“What is to become of Oldfield?” + +“Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him for +another hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come and +relieve me of Mr. Negative.” + +She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr. +Oldfield found her very cold company. + +In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and very +handsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him. + +This done she bade the gentlemen goodnight, and went to her room. Here +she found Mary Wells full of curiosity to know whether the lawyer would +get Sir Charles out of the asylum. + +Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said nothing was to be +expected from such a Nullity. “Mary, he could not see. I gave him every +opportunity. I walked slowly down the room before him after dinner; and +I came into the drawing-room and moved about, and yet he could not +see.” + +“Then you will have to tell him, that is all.” + +“Never; no more shall you. I'll not trust my fate, and Sir Charles's, +to a man that has no eyes.” + +For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor Oldfield; but to +Mr. Angelo she suppressed the real reason, and entered into that ardent +gentleman's grounds of discontent, though these alone would not have +entirely dissolved her respect for the family solicitor. + +Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress and ire. “Beaten! +beaten! and all through our adversaries having more talent. Mr. Bassett +did not appear at first. Wheeler excused him on the ground that his +wife was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett's servants were +called, and swore to the damage and to the men, all but one. He got +off. Then Oldfield made a dry speech; and a tradesman he had prepared +offered bail. The magistrates were consulting, when in burst Mr. +Bassett all in black, and made a speech fifty times stronger than +Oldfield's, and sobbed, and told them the rioters had frightened his +wife so she had been prematurely confined, and the child was dead. +Could they take bail for a riot, a dastardly attack by a mob of cowards +on a poor defenseless woman, the gentlest and most inoffensive creature +in England? Then he went on: 'They were told I was not in the house; +and then they found courage to fling stones, to terrify my wife and +kill my child. Poor soul!' he said, 'she lies between life and death +herself: and I come here in an agony of fear, but I come for justice; +the man of straw, who offers bail, is furnished with the money by those +who stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and teach these cowards +who war on defenseless ladies that there is humanity and justice and +law in the land.' Then Oldfield tried to answer him with his hems and +his haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and swept him away.” + +“Poor woman!” + +“Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too little of her. But +you suffer, and so must she. It is the most terrible feud; one would +think this was Corsica instead of England, only the fighting is not +done with daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Oldfield. +We were all carried away at first; but, now I think of it, Bassett must +have been in the court, and held back to make the climax. Oh, yes! it +was another surprise and another success. They are all sent to jail. +Superior generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, we should have had +eight wives crying for pity, each with one child in her arms, and +another holding on to her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss that +Nullity.” + +“Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles's lawyer; but I have promised +you to seek advice elsewhere, and so I will.” + +The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the church-bell. + +The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned pale. + +“I must leave you,” said Angelo, regretfully. “I have to bury Mr. +Bassett's little boy; he lived an hour.” + +Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll. + +Strange, sad thoughts passed through her mind. “Is it saddest when it +tolls, or when it rings--that bell? He has killed his own child by +robbing me of my husband. We are in the hands of God, after all, let +Wheeler be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple.--And I am not +acting by that.--Where is my trust in God's justice?--Oh, thou of +little faith!--What shall I do? Love is stronger in me than +faith--stronger than anything in heaven or earth. God forgive me--God +help me--I will go back. + +“But oh, to stand still, and be good and simple, and to see my husband +trampled on by a cunning villain! + +“Why is there a future state, where everything is to be different? no +hate; no injustice; all love. Why is it not all of a piece? Why begin +wrong if it is to end all right? If I was omnipotent it should be right +from the first.--Oh, thou of little faith!--Ah, me! it is hard to see +fools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh, that I could shut my +eyes in faith and go to sleep, and drift on the right path; for I shall +never take it with my eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him.” + +Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, and the tears +welled through them: they knew the way by this time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +NEXT morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing cheeks and sparkling +eyes. + +“I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend called on Mr. +Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he replies direct to me. May I read +you his letter?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +“'DEAR SIR--The case you have sent me, of a gentleman confined on +certificates by order of an interested relative--as you presume, for +you have not seen the order--and on grounds you think insufficient, is +interesting, and some of it looks true; but there are gaps in the +statement, and I dare not advise in so nice a matter till these are +filled; but that, I suspect, can only be done by the lady herself. She +had better call on me in person; it may be worth her while. At home +every day, 10--3, this week. As for yourself, you need not address me +through Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterward stroke in +the University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth Harbor, and saved a +sailor. See “Ryde Journal,” Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; cited in my Day-book +Aug. 10, and also in my Index hominum, in voce “Angelo”--_ha! ha! +here's a fellow for detail!_ + +“Yours very truly, + +“'ROLFE.'” + + + +“And did you?” + +“Did I what?” + +“Dive and save a sailor.” + +“No; I nailed him just as he was sinking.” + +“How good and brave you are!” + +Angelo blushed like a girl. “It makes me too happy to hear such words +from you. But I vote we don't talk about me. Will you call on Mr. +Rolfe?” + +“Is he married?” + +Angelo opened his eyes at the question. “I think not,” said he. +“Indeed, I know he is not.” + +“Could you get him down here?” + +Angelo shook his head. “If he knew you, perhaps; but can you expect him +to come here upon your business? These popular writers are spoiled by +the ladies. I doubt if he would walk across the street to advise a +stranger. Candidly, why should he?” + +“No; and it was ridiculous vanity to suppose he would. But I never +called on a gentleman in my life.” + +“Take me with you. You can go up at nine, and be back to a late +dinner.” + +“I shall never have the courage to go. Let me have his letter.” + +He gave her the letter, and she took it away. + +At six o'clock she sent Mary Wells to Mr. Angelo, with a note to say +she had studied Mr. Rolfe's letter, and there was more in it than she +had thought; but his going off from her husband to boat-racing seemed +trivial, and she could not make up her mind to go to London to consult +a novelist on such a serious matter. + +At nine she sent to say she should go, but could not think of dragging +him there: she should take her maid. + +Before eleven, she half repented this resolution, but her maid kept her +to it; and at half past twelve next day they reached Mr. Rolfe's door; +an old-fashioned, mean-looking house, in one of the briskest +thoroughfares of the metropolis; a cabstand opposite to the door, and a +tide of omnibuses passing it. + +Lady Bassett viewed the place discontentedly, and said to herself, +“What a poky little place for a writer to live in; how noisy, how +unpoetical!” + +They knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid-servant. + +“Is Mr. Rolfe at home?” + +“Yes, ma'am. Please give me your card, and write the business.” + +Lady Bassett took out her card and wrote a line or two on the back of +it. The maid glanced at it, and showed her into a room, while she took +the card to her master. + +The room was rather long, low, and nondescript; scarlet flock paper; +curtains and sofas green Utrecht velvet; woodwork and pillars white and +gold; two windows looking on the street; at the other end folding-doors +with scarcely any wood-work, all plate-glass, but partly hidden by +heavy curtains of the same color and material as the others. Accustomed +to large, lofty rooms, Lady Bassett felt herself in a long box here; +but the colors pleased her. She said to Mary Wells, “What a funny, cozy +little place for a gentleman to live in!” + +Mr. Rolfe was engaged with some one, and she was kept waiting; this was +quite new to her, and discouraged her, already intimidated by the +novelty of the situation. + +She tried to encourage herself by saying it was for her husband she did +this unusual thing; but she felt very miserable and inclined to cry. + +At last a bell rang; the maid came in and invited Lady Bassett to +follow her. She opened the glass folding-doors, and took them into a +small conservatory, walled like a grotto, with ferns sprouting out of +rocky fissures, and spars sparkling, water dripping. Then she opened +two more glass folding-doors, and ushered them into an empty room, the +like of which Lady Bassett had never seen; it was large in itself, and +multiplied tenfold by great mirrors from floor to ceiling, with no +frames but a narrow oak beading; opposite her, on entering, was a +bay-window all plate-glass, the central panes of which opened, like +doors, upon a pretty little garden that glowed with color, and was +backed by fine trees belonging to the nation; for this garden ran up to +the wall of Hyde Park. + +The numerous and large mirrors all down to the ground laid hold of the +garden and the flowers, and by double and treble reflection filled the +room with delightful nooks of verdure and color. + +To confuse the eye still more, a quantity of young India-rubber trees, +with glossy leaves, were placed before the large central mirror. The +carpet was a warm velvet-pile, the walls were distempered, a French +gray, not cold, but with a tint of mauve that gave a warm and cheering +bloom; this soothing color gave great effect to the one or two +masterpieces of painting that hung on the walls and to the gilt frames; +the furniture, oak and marqueterie highly polished; the curtains, +scarlet merino, through which the sun shone, and, being a London sun, +diffused a mild rosy tint favorable to female faces. Not a sound of +London could be heard. + +So far the room was romantic; but there was a prosaic corner to shock +those who fancy that fiction is the spontaneous overflow of a poetic +fountain fed by nature only; between the fireplace and the window, and +within a foot or two of the wall, stood a gigantic writing-table, with +the signs of hard labor on it, and of severe system. Three plated +buckets, each containing three pints, full of letters to be answered, +other letters to be pasted into a classified guard-book, loose notes to +be pasted into various books and classified (for this writer used to +sneer at the learned men who say, “I will look among my papers for it;” + he held that every written scrap ought either to be burned, or pasted +into a classified guard-book, where it could be found by consulting the +index); five things like bankers' bill-books, into whose several +compartments MS. notes and newspaper cuttings were thrown, as a +preliminary toward classification in books. + +Underneath the table was a formidable array of note-books, standing +upright, and labeled on their backs. There were about twenty large +folios of classified facts, ideas, and pictures--for the very wood-cuts +were all indexed and classified on the plan of a tradesman's ledger; +there was also the receipt-book of the year, treated on the same plan. +Receipts on a file would not do for this romantic creature. If a +tradesman brought a bill, he must be able to turn to that tradesman's +name in a book, and prove in a moment whether it had been paid or not. +Then there was a collection of solid quartos, and of smaller folio +guard-books called Indexes. There was “Index rerum et journalium”-- +“Index rerum et librorum,”--“Index rerum et hominum,” and a lot more; +indeed, so many that, by way of climax, there was a fat folio ledger +entitled “Index ad Indices.” + +By the side of the table were six or seven thick pasteboard cards, each +about the size of a large portfolio, and on these the author's notes +and extracts were collected from all his repertories into something +like a focus for a present purpose. He was writing a novel based on +facts; facts, incidents, living dialogue, pictures, reflections, +situations, were all on these cards to choose from, and arranged in +headed columns; and some portions of the work he was writing on this +basis of imagination and drudgery lay on the table in two forms, his +own writing, and his secretary's copy thereof, the latter corrected for +the press. This copy was half margin, and so provided for additions and +improvements; but for one addition there were ten excisions, great and +small. Lady Bassett had just time to take in the beauty and artistic +character of the place, and to realize the appalling drudgery that +stamped it a workshop, when the author, who had dashed into his garden +for a moment's recreation, came to the window, and furnished contrast +No. 3. For he looked neither like a poet nor a drudge, but a great fat +country farmer. He was rather tall, very portly, smallish head, +commonplace features mild brown eye not very bright, short beard, and +wore a suit of tweed all one color. Such looked the writer of romances +founded on fact. He rolled up to the window--for, if he looked like a +farmer, he walked like a sailor--and stepped into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +MR. ROLFE surveyed the two women with a mild, inoffensive, ox-like +gaze, and invited them to be seated with homely civility. + +He sat down at his desk, and turning to Lady Bassett, said, rather +dreamily, “One moment, please: let me look at the case and my notes.” + +First his homely appearance, and now a certain languor about his +manner, discouraged Lady Bassett more than it need; for all artists +must pay for their excitements with occasional languor. Her hands +trembled, and she began to gulp and try not to cry. + +Mr. Rolfe observed directly, and said, rather kindly, “You are +agitated; and no wonder.” + +He then opened a sort of china closet, poured a few drops of a +colorless liquid from a tiny bottle into a wine-glass, and filled the +glass with water from a filter. “Drink that, if you please.” + +She looked at him with her eyes brimming. _“Must_ I?” + +“Yes; it will do you good for once in a way. It is only Ignatia.” + +She drank it by degrees, and a tear along with it that fell into the +glass. + +Meantime Mr. Rolfe had returned to his notes and examined them. He then +addressed her, half stiffly, half kindly: + +“Lady Bassett, whatever may be your husband's condition--whether his +illness is mental or bodily, or a mixture of the two--his clandestine +examination by bought physicians, and his violent capture, the natural +effect of which must have been to excite him and retard his cure, were +wicked and barbarous acts, contrary to God's law and the common law of +England, and, indeed, to all human law except our shallow, incautious +Statutes de Lunatico: they were an insult to yourself, who ought at +least to have been consulted, for your rights are higher and purer than +Richard Bassett's; therefore, as a wife bereaved of your husband by +fraud and violence and the bare letter of a paltry statute whose spirit +has been violated, you are quite justified in coming to me or to any +public man you think can help your husband and you.” Then, with a +certain _bonhomie,_ “So lay aside your nervousness; let us go into this +matter sensibly, like a big man and a little man, or like an old woman +and a young woman, whichever you prefer.” + +Lady Bassett looked at him and smiled assent. She felt a great deal +more at her ease after this opening. + +“I dare not advise you yet. I must know more than Mr. Angelo has told +me. Will you answer my questions frankly?” + +“I will try, sir.” + +“Whose idea was it confining Sir Charles Bassett to the house so much?” + +“His own. He felt himself unfit for society.” + +“Did he describe his ailment to you then?” + +“Yes.” + +“All the better; what did he say?” + +“He said that, at times, a cloud seemed to come into his head, and then +he lost all power of mind; and he could not bear to be seen in that +condition.” + +“This was after the epileptic seizure?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Humph! Now will you tell me how Mr. Bassett, by mere words, could so +enrage Sir Charles as to give him a fit?” + +Lady Bassett hesitated. + +“What did he say to Sir Charles?” + +“He did not speak to him. His child and nurse were there, and he called +out loud, for Sir Charles to hear, and told the nurse to hold up his +child to look at his inheritance.” + +“Malicious fool! But did this enrage Sir Charles so much as to give him +a fit?” + +“Yes.” + +“He must be very sensitive.” + +“On that subject.” + +Mr. Rolfe was silent; and now, for the first time, appeared to think +intently. + +His study bore fruit, apparently; for he turned to Lady Bassett and +said, suddenly, “What is the strangest thing Sir Charles has said of +late--the very strangest?” + +Lady Bassett turned red, and then pale, and made no reply. + +Mr. Rolfe rose and walked up to Mary Wells. + +“What is the maddest thing your master has ever said?” + +Mary Wells, instead of replying, looked at her mistress. + +The writer instantly put his great body between them. “Come, none of +that,” said he. “I don't want a falsehood--I want the truth.” + +“La, sir, I don't know. My master he is not mad, I'm sure. The queerest +thing he ever said was--he did say at one time 'twas writ on his face +as he had no children.” + +“Ah! And that is why he would not go abroad, perhaps.” + +“That was one reason, sir, I do suppose.” Mr. Rolfe put his hands +behind his back and walked thoughtfully and rather disconsolately back +to his seat. + +“Humph!” said he. Then, after a pause, “Well, well; I know the worst +now; that is one comfort. Lady Bassett, you really must be candid with +me. Consider: good advice is like a tight glove; it fits the +circumstances, and it does not fit other circumstances. No man advises +so badly on a false and partial statement as I do, for the very reason +that my advice is a close fit. Even now I can't understand Sir +Charles's despair of having children of his own.” + +The writer then turned his looks on the two women, with an entire +absence of expression; the sense of his eyes was turned inward, though +the orbs were directed toward his visitors. + +With this lack-luster gaze, and in the tone of thoughtful soliloquy, he +said, “Has Sir Charles Bassett no eyes? and are there women so furtive, +so secret, or so bashful, they do not tell their husbands?” + +Lady Bassett turned with a scared look to Mary Wells, and that young +woman showed her usual readiness. She actually came to Mr. Rolfe and +half whispered to him, “If you please, sir, gentlemen are blind, and my +lady she is very bashful; but Sir Charles knows it now; he have known +it a good while; and it was a great comfort to him; he was getting +better, sir, when the villains took him--ever so much better.” + +This solution silenced Mr. Rolfe, though it did not quite satisfy him. +He fastened on Mary Wells's last statement. “Now tell me: between the +day when those two doctors got into his apartment and the day of his +capture, how long?” + +“About a fortnight.” + +“And in that particular fortnight was there a marked improvement?” + +“La, yes, sir; was there not, my lady?” + +“Indeed there was, sir. He was beginning to take walks with me in the +garden, and rides in an open carriage. He was getting better every day; +and oh, sir, that is what breaks my heart! I was curing my darling so +fast, and now they will do all they can to destroy him. Their not +letting his wife see him terrifies me.” + +“I think I can explain that. Now tell me--what time do you expect--a +certain event?” + +Lady Bassett blushed and cast a hasty glance at the speaker; but he had +a piece of paper before him, and was preparing to take down her reply, +with the innocent face of a man who had asked a simple and necessary +question in the way of business. + +Then Lady Bassett looked at Mary Wells, and this look Mr. Rolfe +surprised, because he himself looked up to see why the lady hesitated. + +After an expressive glance between the mistress and maid, the lady +said, almost inaudibly, “More than three months;” and then she blushed +all over. + +Mr. Rolfe looked at the two women a moment, and seemed a little puzzled +at their telegraphing each other on such a subject; but he coolly noted +down Lady Bassett's reply on a card about the size of a foolscap sheet, +and then set himself to write on the same card the other facts he had +elicited. + +While he was doing this very slowly, with great care and pains, the +lady was eying him like a zoologist studying some new animal. The +simplicity and straightforwardness of his last question won by degrees +upon her judgment and reconciled her to her Inquisitor, the more so as +he was quiet but intense, and his whole soul in her case. She began to +respect his simple straightforwardness, his civility without a grain of +gallantry, and his caution in eliciting all the facts before he would +advise. + +After he had written down his synopsis, looking all the time as if his +life depended on its correctness, he leaned back, and his ordinary but +mobile countenance was transfigured into geniality. + +“Come,” said he, “grandmamma has pestered you with questions enough; +now you retort--ask me anything--speak your mind: these things should +be attacked in every form, and sifted with every sieve.” + +Lady Bassett hesitated a moment, but at last responded to this +invitation. + +“Sir, one thing that discourages me cruelly--my solicitor seems so +inferior to Mr. Bassett's. He can think of nothing but objections; and +so he does nothing, and lets us be trampled on: it is his being unable +to cope with Mr. Bassett's solicitor, Mr. Wheeler, that has led me in +my deep distress to trouble you, whom I had not the honor of knowing.” + +“I understand your ladyship perfectly. Mr. Oldfield is a respectable +solicitor, and Wheeler is a sharp country practitioner; and--to use my +favorite Americanism--you feel like fighting with a blunt knife against +a sharp one.” + +“That is my feeling, sir, and it drives me almost wild sometimes.” + +“For your comfort, then, in my earlier litigations--I have had sixteen +lawsuits for myself and other oppressed people--I had often that very +impression; but the result always corrected it. Legal battles are like +other battles: first you have a skirmish or two, and then a great +battle in court. Now sharp attorneys are very apt to win the skirmish +and lose the battle. I see a general of this stamp in Mr. Wheeler, and +you need not fear him much. Of course an antagonist is never to be +despised; but I would rather have Wheeler against you than Oldfield. An +honest man like Oldfield blunders into wisdom, the Lord knows how. Your +Wheelers seldom get beyond cunning; and cunning does not see far enough +to cope with men of real sagacity and forethought in matters so +complicated as this. Oldfield, acting for Bassett, would have pushed +rapidly on to an examination by the court. You would have evaded it, +and put yourself in the wrong; and the inquiry, well urged, might have +been adverse to Sir Charles. Wheeler has taken a more cunning and +violent course--it strikes more terror, does more immediate harm; but +what does it lead to? Very little; and it disarms them of their +sharpest weapon, the immediate inquiry; for we could now delay and +greatly prejudice an inquiry on the very ground of the outrage and +unnecessary violence; and could demand time to get the patient as well +as he was before the outrage. And, indeed, the court is very jealous of +those who begin by going to a judge, and then alter their minds, and +try to dispose of the case themselves. And to make matters worse, here +they do it by straining an Act of Parliament opposed to equity.” + +“I wish it may prove so, sir; but, meantime, Mr. Wheeler is active, Mr. +Oldfield is passive. He has not an idea. He is a mere negative.” + +“Ah, that is because he is out of his groove. A smattering of law is +not enough here. It wants a smattering of human nature too.” + +“Then, sir, would you advise me to part with Mr. Oldfield?” + +“No. Why make an enemy? Besides, he is the vehicle of communication +with the other side. You must simply ignore him for a time.” + +“But is there nothing I can do, sir? for it is this cruel inactivity +that kills me. Pray advise me--you know all now.” + +Mr. Rolfe, thus challenged, begged for a moment's delay. + +“Let us be silent a minute,” said he, “and think hard.” + +And, to judge by his face, he did think with great intensity. + + + +“Lady Bassett,” said he, very gravely, “I assume that every fact you +and Mr. Angelo have laid before me is true, and no vital part is kept +back. Well, then, your present course is--Delay. Not the weak delay of +those who procrastinate what cannot be avoided; but the wise delay of a +general who can bring up overpowering forces, only give him time. +Understand me, there is more than one game on the cards; but I prefer +the surest. We could begin fighting openly to-morrow; but that would be +risking too much for too little. The law's delay, the insolence of +office, the up-hill and thorny way, would hurt Sir Charles's mind at +present. The apathy, the cruelty, the trickery, the routine, the hot +and cold fits of hope and fear, would poison your blood, and perhaps +lose Sir Charles the heir he pines for. Besides, if we give battle +to-day we fight the heir at law; but in three or four months we may +have him on our side, and trustees appointed by you. By that time, too, +Sir Charles will have got over that abominable capture, and be better +than he was a week ago, constantly soothed and consoled--as he will +be--by the hope of offspring. When the right time comes, that moment we +strike, and with a sledge-hammer. No letters to the commissioners then, +no petitioning Chancery to send a jury into the asylum, stronghold of +prejudice. I will cut your husband in two. Don't be alarmed. I will +merely give him, with your help, an _alter ego,_ who shall effect his +liberation and ruin Richard Bassett--ruin him in damages and costs, and +drive him out of the country, perhaps. Meantime you are not to be a lay +figure, or a mere negative.” + +“Oh, sir, I am so glad of that!” + +“Far from that: you will act defensively. Mr. Bassett has one chance; +you must be the person to extinguish it. Injudicious treatment in the +asylum might retard Sir Charles's cure; their leeches and their +sedatives, administered by sucking apothecaries, who reason it _a +priori,_ instead of watching the effect of these things on the patient, +might seriously injure your husband, for his disorder is connected with +a weak circulation of blood in the vessels of the brain. We must +therefore guard against that at once. To work, then. Who keeps this +famous asylum?” + +“Dr. Suaby.” + +“Suaby? I know that name. He has been here, I think. I must look in my +Index rerum et hominum. Suaby? Not down. Try Asyla.--Asyla; 'Suaby: see +letter-book for the year--, p. 368.' An old letter-book. I must go +elsewhere for that.” + +He went out, and after some time returned with a folio letter-book. + +“Here are two letters to me from Dr. Suaby, detailing his system and +inviting me to spend a week at his asylum. Come, come; Sir Charles is +with a man who does not fear inspection; for at this date I was bitter +against private asylums--rather indiscriminately so, I fear. Stay! he +visited me; I thought so. Here's a description of him: 'A pale, +thoughtful man, with a remarkably mild eye: is against restraint of +lunatics, and against all punishment of them--Quixotically so. Being +cross-examined, declares that if a patient gave him a black eye he +would not let a keeper handle him roughly, being irresponsible.' No +more would I, if I could give him a good licking myself. Please study +these two letters closely; you may get a clew how to deal with the +amiable writer in person.” + +“Oh, thank you, Mr. Rolfe,” said Lady Bassett, flushing all over. She +was so transported at having something to do. She quietly devoured the +letters, and after she had read them said a load of fears was now taken +off her mind. + +Mr. Rolfe shook his head. “You must not rely on Dr. Suaby too much. In +a prison or an asylum each functionary is important in exact proportion +to his nominal insignificance; and why? Because the greater his nominal +unimportance the more he comes in actual contact with the patient. The +theoretical scale runs thus: 1st. The presiding physician. 2d. The +medical subordinates. 3d. The keepers and nurses. The practical scale +runs thus: 1st. The keepers and nurses. 2d. The medical attendants. 3d. +The presiding physician.” + +“I am glad to hear you say so, sir; for when I went to the asylum, and +the medical attendant, Mr. Salter, would not let me see my husband. I +gave his keeper and the nurse a little money to be kind to him in his +confinement.” + +“You did! Yet you come here for advice? This is the way: a man +discourses and argues, and by profound reasoning--that is, by what he +thinks profound, and it isn't--arrives at the right thing; and lo! a +woman, with her understanding heart and her hard, good sense, goes and +does that wise thing humbly, without a word. SURSUM CORDA!--_Cheer up, +loving heart!”_ shouted he, like the roar of a lion in ecstasies; “you +have done a masterstroke--without Oldfield, or Rolfe, or any other +man.” + +Lady Bassett clasped her hands with joy, and some electric fire seemed +to run through her veins; for she was all sensibilities, and this +sudden triumphant roaring out of strong words was quite new to her, and +carried her away. + +“Well,” said this eccentric personage, cooling quite as suddenly as he +had fired, “the only improvement I can suggest is, be a little more +precise at your next visit. Promise his keepers twenty guineas apiece +the day Sir Charles is _cured;_ and promise them ten guineas apiece not +to administer one drop of medicine for the next two months; and, of +course, no leech nor blister. The cursed sedatives they believe in are +destruction to Sir Charles Bassett. His circulation must not be made +too slow one day, and too fast the next, which is the effect of a +sedative, but made regular by exercise and nourishing food. So, then, +you will square the keepers by their cupidity; the doctor is on the +right side _per se._ Shall we rely on these two, and ignore the medical +attendants? No; why throw a chance away? What is the key to these +medical attendants? Hum! Try flunkyism. I have great faith in British +flunkyism. Pay your next visit with four horses, two outriders, and +blazing liveries. Don't dress in perfect taste like _that;_ go in finer +clothes than you ever wore in the morning, or ought to wear, except at +a wedding; go not as a petitioner, but as a queen; and dazzle snobs; +the which being dazzled, then tickle their vanity: don't speak of Sir +Charles as an injured man, nor as a man unsound in mind, but a +gentleman who is rather ill; 'but _now,_ gentlemen, I feel your +remarkable skill will soon set him right.' Your husband runs that one +risk; make him safe: a few smiles and a little flattery will do it; and +if not, why, fight with all a woman's weapons. Don't be too nice: we +must all hold a candle to the devil once in our lives. A wife's love +sanctifies a woman's arts in fighting with a villain and disarming +donkeys.” + +“Oh, I wish I was there now!” + +“You are excited, madam,” said he, severely. “That is out of place--in +a deliberative assembly.” + +“No, no; only I want to be there, doing all this for my dear husband.” + +“You are very excited; and it is my fault. You must be hungry too: you +have come a journey. There will be a reaction, and then you will be +hysterical. Your temperament is of that kind.” + +He rang a bell and ordered his maid-servant to bring some beef-wafers +and a pint of dry Champagne. + +Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be quiet; “for,” said he, +“I have a smattering of medicine, as well as of law and of human +nature. Sir Charles must correspond with you. Probably he has already +written you six letters complaining of this monstrous act--a sane man +incarcerated. Well, that class of letter goes into a letter-box in the +hall of an asylum, but it never reaches its address. Please take a pen +and write a formula.” He dictated as follows: + + + +“MY DEAR LOVE--The trifling illness I had when I came here is beginning +to give way to the skill and attention of the medical gentlemen here. +They are all most kind and attentive: the place, as it is conducted, is +a credit to the country.” + + + +Lady Bassett's eyes sparkled. “Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not this rather +artful?” + +“And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage the writing of +letters, and then open them, and suppress whatever is disagreeable? May +every man who opens another man's letter find that letter a trap. Here +comes your medicine. You never drink champagne in the middle of the +day, of course?” + +“Oh, no.” + +“Then it will be all the better medicine.” + +He made both mistress and maid eat the thin slices of beef and drink a +glass of champagne. + +While they were thus fortifying themselves he wrote his address on some +stamped envelopes, and gave them to Lady Bassett, and told her she had +better write to him at once if anything occurred. “You must also write +to me if you really cannot get to see your husband. Then I will come +down myself, with the public press at my back. But I am sure that will +not be necessary in Dr. Suaby's asylum. He is a better Christian than I +am, confound him for it! You went too soon; your husband had been +agitated by the capture; Suaby was away; Salter had probably applied +what he imagined to be soothing remedies, leeches--a blister--morphia. +Result, the patient was so much worse than he was before they touched +him that Salter was ashamed to let you see him. Having really excited +him, instead of soothing him, Sawbones Salter had to pretend that _you_ +would excite him. As if creation contained any mineral, drug simple, +leech, Spanish fly, gadfly, or showerbath, so soothing as a loving wife +is to a man in affliction. New reading of an old song: + + 'If the heart of a man is oppressed with cares, + It makes him much worse when a woman appears.' + +“Go to-morrow; you will see him. He will be worse than he was; but not +much. Somebody will have told him that his wife put him in there--” + +“Oh! oh!” + +“And he won't have believed it. His father was a Bassett; his mother a +Le Compton; his great-great-great-grandmother was a Rolfe: there is no +cur's blood in him. After the first shock he will have found the spirit +and dignity of a gentleman to sustain adversity: these men of fashion +are like that; they are better steel than women--and writers.” + +When he had said this he indicated by his manner that he thought he had +exhausted the subject, and himself. + +Lady Bassett rose and said, “Then, sir, I will take my leave; and oh! I +am sorry I have not your eloquent pen or your eloquent tongue to thank +you. You have interested yourself in a stranger--you have brought the +power of a great mind to bear on our distress. I came here a widow--now +I feel a wife again. Your good words have warmed my very heart. I can +only pray God to bless you, sir.” + +“Pray say no more, madam,” said Mr. Rolfe, hastily. “A gentleman cannot +be always writing lies; an hour or two given to truth and justice is a +wholesome diversion. At all events, don't thank me till my advice has +proved worth it.” + +He rang the bell; the servant came, and showed the way to the street +door. Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowed +ceremoniously once more to Lady Bassett as she went out. + +As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was her +counselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distracted +bullock. + +“Well, I don't think much of _he,”_ said Mary Wells. + +Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbed +and taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, but +was more able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in +digesting Rolfe's every word, and fixing his map in her mind, and +filling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung her: she gave +her companion very short answers, especially when she disparaged Mr. +Rolfe. + +“You couldn't get in a word edgeways,” said Mary Wells. + +“I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter.” + +“He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow.” + +“How _can_ he, and see other men?” + +“Well. I don't think much of him, for my part.” + +“I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a silly +thing.” + +“I don't know; that was afore my time” (rather pertly). + +“Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her.” + +On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sent +directions to the coachman and grooms. + +At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started for +the asylum--coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders. + +Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two fresh +horses having been sent on at night. + +They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was left +ostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many a +pale face peeping from the upper windows. + +The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectful +air. + +“Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?” + +“No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day.” + +Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowed +to see Mr. Coyne. + +“Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once,” was the reply. + +Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people to +open the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr. +Coyne appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, +vulgar face, liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly at +sight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses. + +“Mr. Coyne, I believe,” said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile. + +“At your service, madam.” + +“May I have a word in private with you, sir?” + +“Certainly, madam.” + +“We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?” + +“I am afraid,” said the little man, apologetically, “I must ask you to +send them to the inn. It is close by.” + +“By all means.” (To one of the outriders:) “You will wait here for +orders.” + +Mary Wells had been already instructed to wait in the hall and look out +sharp for Sir Charles's keeper and nurse, and tell them her ladyship +wanted to speak to them privately, and it would be money in their way. + +Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to congratulate +herself. “Mr. Bassett,” said she, “is no friend of mine, but he has +done me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, when he might have sent +him to some place where he might have been made worse instead of +better. Here, I conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure his +trifling disorder, will you not?” + +“I have good hopes, your ladyship; he is better to-day.” + +“Now I dare say you could tell me to a month when he will be cured.” + +“Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much.” + +“Three months?” + +“That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship may rely on it we +will do our best.” + +“Will you? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, by-the-by, Dr. Willis +wanted me to take a message to you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you by +reputation.” + +“Indeed! Really I was not aware that my humble--” + +“Then you are better known than you in your modesty supposed. Let me +see: what was the message? Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles he +wished you to know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and he +wished me to tell you that morphia and other sedatives have some very +bad effects on him. I told Dr. Willis you would probably find that and +every thing else out without a hint from him or any one else.” + +“Yes; but I will make a note of it, for all that.” + +“That is very kind of you. It will flatter the doctor, the more so as +he has so high an opinion of you. But now, Mr. Coyne, I suppose if I am +very good, and promise to soothe him, and not excite him, I may see my +husband to-day?” + +“Certainly, madam. You have an order from the person who--” + +“I forgot to bring it with me. I relied on your humanity.” + +“That is unfortunate. I am afraid I must not--” He hesitated, looked +very uncomfortable, and said he would consult Mr. Appleton; then, +suddenly puckering his face into obsequiousness, “Would your ladyship +like to inspect some of our arrangements for the comfort of our +patients?” + +Lady Bassett would have declined the proposal but for the singular play +of countenance; she was herself all eye and mind, so she said, gravely, +“I shall be very happy, sir.” + +Mr. Coyne then led the way, and showed her a large sitting-room, where +some ladies were seated at different occupations and amusements: they +kept more apart from each other than ladies do in general; but this was +the only sign a far more experienced observer than Lady Bassett could +have discovered, the nurses having sprung from authoritative into +unobtrusive positions at the sound of Mr. Coyne's footstep outside. + +“What!” said Lady Bassett; “are all these ladies--” She hesitated. + +“Every one,” said Mr. Coyne; “and some incurably.” + +“Oh, please let us retire; I have no right to gratify my curiosity. +Poor things! they don't seem unhappy.” + +“Unhappy!” said Mr. Coyne. “We don't allow unhappiness here; our doctor +is too fond of them; he is always contriving something to please them.” + +At this moment Lady Bassett looked up and saw a woman watching her over +the rail of a corridor on the first floor. She recognized the face +directly. The woman made her a rapid signal, and then disappeared into +one of the rooms. + +“Would there be any objection to our going upstairs, Mr. Coyne?” said +Lady Bassett, with a calm voice and a heart thumping violently. + +“Oh, none whatever. I'll conduct you; but then, I am afraid I must +leave you for a time.” + +He showed her upstairs, blew a whistle, handed her over to an +attendant, and bowed and smiled himself away grotesquely. + +Jones was the very keeper she had feed last visit. She flushed with joy +at sight of bull-necked, burly Jones. “Oh, Mr. Jones!” said she, +putting her hands together with a look that might have melted a +hangman. + +Jones winked, and watched Mr. Coyne out of sight. + +“I have seen your ladyship's maid,” said Jones, confidentially. “It is +all right. Mr. Coyne have got the blinkers on. Only pass me your word +not to excite him.” + +“Oh no, sir, I will soothe him.” And she trembled all over. + +“Sally!” cried Jones. + +The nurse came out of a room and held the door ajar; she whispered, “I +have prepared him, madam; he is all right.” + +Lady Bassett, by a great effort, kept her feet from rushing, her heart +from crying out with joy, and she entered the room. Sally closed the +door like a shot, with a delicacy one would hardly have given her +credit for, to judge from appearances. + +Sir Charles stood in the middle of the room, beaming to receive her, +but restraining himself. They met: he held her to his heart; she wept +for joy and grief upon his neck. Neither spoke for a long time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THEY were seated hand in hand, comparing notes and comforting each +other. Then Lady Bassett met with a great surprise: forgetting, or +rather not realizing, Sir Charles's sex and character, she began with a +heavy heart to play the consoler; but after he had embraced her many +times with tender rapture, and thanked God for the sight of her, lo and +behold, this doughty baronet claimed his rights of manhood, and, in +spite of his capture, his incarceration, and his malady, set to work to +console her, instead of lying down to be consoled. + +“My darling Bella,” said he, “don't you make a mountain of a mole-hill. +The moment you told me I should be a father I began to get better, and +to laugh at Richard Bassett's malice. Of course I was terribly knocked +over at first by being captured like a felon and clapped under lock and +key; but I am getting over that. My head gets muddled once a day, that +is all. They gave me some poison the first day that made me drunk +twelve hours after; but they have not repeated it.” + +“Oh!” cried Lady Bassett, “then don't let me lose a moment. How could I +forget?” She opened the door, and called in Mr. Jones and the nurse. + +“Mr. Jones,” said she, “the first day my husband came here Mr. Salter +gave him a sedative, or something, and it made him much worse.” + +“It always do make 'em worse,” said Jones, bluntly. + +“Then why did he give it?” + +“Out o' book, ma'am. His sort don't see how the medicines work; but we +do, as are always about the patient.” + +“Mr. Jones,” said Lady Bassett, “if Mr. Salter, or anybody, prescribes, +it is you who _administer_ the medicine.” + +Jones assented with a wink. Winking was his foible, as puckering of the +face was Coyne's. + +“Should you be offended if I were to offer you and the nurse ten +guineas a month to pretend you had given him Mr. Salter's medicines, +and not do it?” + +“Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir Charles,” said +Jones. “But I didn't ought to take so much money for that. To be sure, +I suppose, the lady won't miss it.” + +“Don't be a donkey, Jones,” said Sir Charles, cutting short his +hypocrisy. “Take whatever you can get; only earn it.” + +“Oh, what I takes I earns.” + +“Of course,” said Sir Charles. “So that is settled. You have got to +physic those flower-pots instead of me, that is all.” + +This view of things tickled Jones so that he roared with laughter. +However, he recollected himself all of a sudden, and stopped with +ludicrous abruptness. + +He said to Lady Bassett, with homely kindness, “You go home +comfortable, my lady; you have taken the stick by the right end.” He +then had the good sense to retire from the room. + +Then Lady Bassett told Sir Charles of her visit to London, and her +calling on Mr. Rolfe. + +He looked blank at his wife calling on a bachelor; but her description +of the man, his age, and his simplicity, reconciled him to that; and +when she told him the plan and order of campaign Mr. Rolfe had given +her he approved it very earnestly. + +He fastened in particular on something that Mr. Rolfe had dwelt lightly +on. “Dear as the sight of you is to me, sweet as the sound of your +loved voice is to my ears and my heart, I would rather not see you +again until our hopes are realized than jeopardize _that.”_ + +Lady Bassett sighed, for this seemed rather morbid. Sir Charles went +on: “So think of your own health first, and avoid agitations. I am +tormented with fear lest that monster should take advantage of my +absence to molest you. If he does, leave Huntercombe. Yes, leave it; go +to London; go, even for my sake; my health and happiness depend on you; +they cannot be much affected by anything that happens here. 'Stone +walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.'” + +Lady Bassett promised, but said she could not keep away from him, and +he must often write to her. She gave him Rolfe's formula, and told him +all letters would pass that praised the asylum. + +Sir Charles made a wry face. + +Lady Bassett's wrist went round his neck in a moment. “Oh, Charles, +dear, for my sake--hold a little, little candle to the devil. Mr. Rolfe +says we must. Oblige me in this--I am not so noble as you--and then +I'll be very good and obedient in what your heart is set upon.” + +At last Sir Charles consented. + +Then they made haste, and told each other everything that had happened, +and it was late in the afternoon before they parted. + +Lady Bassett controlled her tears at parting as well as she could. + +Mr. Coyne had slyly hid himself, but emerged when she came down to the +carriage, and she shook him warmly by the hand, and he bowed at the +door incessantly, with his face all in a pucker, till the cavalcade +dashed away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +LADY BASSETT timed her next visit so that she found Dr. Suaby at home. + +He received her kindly, and showed himself a master; told her Sir +Charles's was a mixed case, in which the fall, the fit, and a morbid +desire for offspring had all played their parts. + +He hoped a speedy cure, but said he counted on her assistance. There +was no doubt what he meant. + +Oh, for one thing, he said to her, rather slyly, “Coyne tells me you +have been good enough to supply us with a hint as to his treatment; +sedatives are opposed to his idiosyncrasy.” + +Lady Bassett blushed high, and said something about Dr. Willis. + +“Oh, you are quite right, you and Dr. Willis; only you are not so very +conversant with that idiosyncrasy. Why have you let him smoke twenty +cigars every day of his life? the brain is accessible by other roads +than the stomach. Well, we have got him down to four cigars, and in a +month we will have him down to two. The effect of that, and exercise, +and simple food, and the absence of powerful excitements--you will see. +Do your part,” said he, gayly, “we will do ours. He is the most +interesting patient in the house, and born to adorn society, though by +a concurrence of unhappy circumstances he is separated from it for a +while.” + +She spent the whole afternoon with Sir Charles, and they dined together +at the doctor's private table, with one or two patients who were +touched, but showed no signs of it on that occasion; for the good +doctor really acted like oil on the troubled waters. + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett corresponded, and so kept their hearts up; +but after Rolfe's hint the correspondence was rather guarded. If these +letters were read in the asylum the curious would learn that Sir +Charles was far more anxious about his wife's condition than his own; +but that these two patient persons were only waiting a certain near +event to attack Richard Bassett with accumulated fury--that smoldering +fire did not smoke by letter, but burned deep in both their sore and +heavy, but enduring, Anglo-Saxon hearts. + +Lady Bassett wrote to Mr. Rolfe, thanking him again for his advice, and +telling him how it worked. + +She had a very short reply from that gentleman. + +But about six weeks after her visit he surprised her a little by +writing of his own accord, and asking her for a formal introduction to +Sir Charles Bassett, and begging her to back a request that Sir Charles +would devote a leisure hour or two to correspondence with him. “Not,” + said he, “on his private affairs, but on a matter of general interest. +I want a few of his experiences and observations in that place. I have +the less scruple in asking it, that whatever takes him out of himself +will be salutary.” + +Lady Bassett sent him the required introduction in such terms that Sir +Charles at once consented to oblige his wife by obliging Mr. Rolfe. + + + +“My DEAR SIR--In compliance with your wish, and Lady Bassett's, I send +you a few desultory remarks on what I see here. + +“1st. The lines, + + 'Great wits to madness nearly are allied, + And thin partitions do their bonds divide,' + +are, in my opinion, exaggerated and untrue. Taking the people here as a +guide, the insane in general appear to be people with very little +brains, and enormous egotism. + +“My next observation is, that the women have far less imagination than +the men; they cannot even realize their own favorite delusions. For +instance, here are two young ladies, the Virgin Mary and the Queen of +England. How do they play their parts? They sit aloof from all the +rest, with their noses in the air. But gauge their imaginations; go +down on one knee, or both, and address them as a saint and a queen; +they cannot say a word in accordance; yet they are cunning enough to +see they cannot reply in character, so they will not utter a syllable +to their adorers. They are like the shop-boys who go to a masquerade as +Burleigh or Walsingham, and when you ask them who is Queen Bess's +favorite just now, blush, and look offended, and pass sulkily on. + +“The same class of male lunatics can speak in character; and this +observation has made me doubt whether philosophers are not mistaken in +saying that women generally have more imagination than men. I suspect +they have infinitely less; and I believe their great love of novels, +which has been set down to imagination, arises mainly from their want +of it. You writers of novels supply that defect for them by a pictorial +style, by an infinity of minute details, and petty aids to realizing, +all which an imaginative reader can do for himself on reading a bare +narrative of sterling facts and incidents. + +“I find a monotony in madness. So many have inspirations, see phantoms, +are the victims of vast conspiracies (principalities and powers +combined against a fly); their food is poisoned, their wine is drugged, +etc., etc. + +“These, I think, are all forms of that morbid egotism which is at the +bottom of insanity. So is their antipathy for each other. They keep +apart, because a madman is all self, and his talk is all self; thus +egotisms, clash, and an antipathy arises; yet it is not, I think, pure +antipathy, though so regarded, but a mere form of their boundless +egotism. + +“If, in visiting an asylum, you see two or three different patients +buttonhole a fourth and pour their grievances into a listening ear, you +may safely suspect No. 4 of--sanity. + +“On the whole, I think the doctor himself, and one of his attendants, +and Jones, a keeper, have more solid eccentricity and variety about +them than most of the patients.” + + + +Extract from Letter 2, written about a fortnight later: + + + +“Some insane persons have a way of couching their nonsense in language +that sounds rational, and has a false air of logical connection. Their +periods seem stolen from sensible books, and forcibly fitted to +incongruous bosh. By this means the ear is confused, and a slow hearer +might fancy he was listening to sense. + +“I have secured you one example of this. You must know that, in the +evening, I sometimes collect a few together, and try to get them to +tell their stories. Little comes of it in general but interruptions. +But, one night, a melancholy Bagman responded in good set terms, and +all in a moment; one would have thought I had put a torch to a barrel +of powder, he went off so quickly, in this style: + +“'You ask my story: it is briefly told. Initiated in commerce from my +earliest years, and traveled in the cotton trade. As representative of +a large house in Manchester, I visited the United States. + +“'Unfortunately for me, that country was then the chosen abode of +spirits; the very air was thick and humming with supernaturalia. Ere +long spirit-voices whispered in my ear, and suggested pious aspirations +at first. That was a blind, no doubt; for very soon they went on to +insinuate things profane and indelicate, and urged me to deliver them +in mixed companies; I forbore with difficulty, restrained by the early +lessons of a pious mother, and a disinclination to be kicked +downstairs, or flung out o' window. + +“'I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in its +beautiful Doric, “Old oss, I reckon you'd better change the air.” I +grasped his hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for England. + +“'On ocean's peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But under this +deceitful calm fresh dangers brooded. Two doctors had stolen into the +ship, unseen by human eye, and bided their time. Unable to act at sea, +owing to the combined effect of wind and current, they concealed +themselves on deck under a black tarpaulin--that is to say, it had been +black, but wind and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown--and there, +adopting for the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, the +caterpillar, and other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. But the +moment the vessel touched the quay, profiting by the commotion, they +emerged, and signed certificates with chalk on my portmanteau; then +vanished in the crowd. The Custom-house read the certificates, and +seized my luggage as contraband. I was too old a traveler to leave my +luggage; so then they seized me, and sent us both down here. (With +sudden and short-lived fury) that old hell-hound at the Lodge asked +them where I was booked for. “For the whole journey,” said a sepulchral +voice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, the silent grave.' + +“Notwithstanding this stern decree, Suaby expects to turn him out cured +in a few months. + +“Miss Wieland, a very pretty girl, put her arm in mine, and drew me +mysteriously apart. 'So you are collecting the villainies,' said she, +sotto voce. 'It will take you all your time. I'll tell you mine. +There's a hideous old man wants me to marry him; and I won't. And he +has put me in here, and keeps me prisoner till I will. They are all on +his side, especially that sanctified old guy, Suaby. They drug my wine, +they stupefy me, they give me things to make me naughty and tipsy; but +it is no use; I never will marry that old goat--that for his money and +him--I'll die first.' + +“Of course my blood boiled; but I asked my nurse, Sally, and she +assured me there was not one atom of truth in any part of the story. +'The young lady was put in here by her mother; none too soon, neither.' +I asked her what she meant. 'Why, she came here with her throat cut, +and strapping on it. She is a suicidal.'” + + + +This correspondence led eventually to some unexpected results; but I am +obliged to interrupt it for a time, while I deal with a distinct series +of events which began about five weeks after Lady Bassett's visit to +Mr. Rolfe, and will carry the reader forward beyond the date we have +now arrived at. + +It was the little dining-room at Highmore; a low room, of modest size, +plainly furnished. An enormous fire-place, paved with plain tiles, on +which were placed iron dogs; only wood and roots were burned in this +room. + +Mrs. Bassett had just been packed off to bed by marital authority; +Bassett and Wheeler sat smoking pipes and sipping whisky-and-water. +Bassett professed to like the smell of peat smoke in whisky; what he +really liked was the price. + +After a few silent whiffs, said Bassett, “I didn't think they would +take it so quietly; did you?” + +“Well, I really did not. But, after all, what can they do? They are +evidently afraid to go to the Court of Chancery, and ask for a jury in +the asylum; and what else can they do?” + +“Humph! They might arrange an escape, and hide him for fourteen days; +then we could not recapture him without fresh certificates; could we?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“And the doors would be too well guarded; not a crack for two doctors +to creep in at.” + +“You go too fast. _You_ know the law from me, and you are a daring man +that would try this sort of thing; but a timid woman, advised by a +respectable muff like Oldfield! They will never dream of such a thing.” + +“Oldfield is not her head-man. She has got another adviser, and he is +the very man to do something plucky.” + +“I don't know who you mean.” + +“Why, her lover, to be sure.” + +“Her lover? Lady Bassett's lover!” + +“Ay, the young parson.” + +Wheeler smiled satirically. “You certainly are a good hater. Nothing is +too bad for those you don't like. If that Lady Bassett is not a true +wife, where will you find one?” + +“She is the most deceitful jade in England.” + +“Oh! oh!” + +“Ah! you may sneer. So you have forgotten how she outwitted us. Did the +devil himself ever do a cunninger thing than that? tempting a fellow +into a correspondence that seemed a piece of folly on her part, yet it +was a deep diabolical trick to get at my handwriting. Did _you_ see her +game? No more than I did. You chuckled at her writing letters to the +plaintiff _pendente lite._ We were both children, setting our wits +against a woman's. I tell you I dread her, especially when I see her so +unnaturally quiet, after what we have done. When you hook a large +salmon, and he makes a great commotion, but all of a sudden lies like a +stone, be on your guard; he means mischief.” + +“Well,” said Wheeler, “this is all very true, but you have strayed from +the point. What makes you think she has an improper attachment?” + +“Is it so very unnatural? He is the handsomest fellow about, she is the +loveliest woman; he is dark, she is fair; and they are thrown together +by circumstances. Another thing: I have always understood that women +admire the qualities they don't possess themselves--strength, for +instance. Now this parson is a Hercules. He took Sir Charles up like a +boy and carried him in his arms all the way from where he had the fit. +Lady Bassett walked beside them. Rely on it, a woman does not see one +man carry another so without making a comparison in favor of the +strong, and against the weak. But what am I talking about? They walk +like lovers, those two.” + +“What, hand in hand? he! he!” + +“No, side by side; but yet like lovers for all that.” + +“You must have a good eye.” + +“I have a good opera-glass.” + +Mr. Wheeler smoked in silence. + +“Well, but,” said he, after a pause, “if this is so, all the better for +you. Don't you see that the lover will never really help her to get the +husband out of confinement? It is not in the nature of things. He may +struggle with his own conscience a bit, being a clergyman, but he won't +go too far; he won't break the law to get Sir Charles home, and so end +these charming duets with his lady-love.” + +“By Jove, you are right!” cried Bassett, convinced in his turn. “I say, +old fellow, two heads are better than one. I think we have got the +clew, between us. Yes, by Heaven! it is so; for the carriage used to be +out twice a week, but now she only goes about once in ten days. +By-and-by it will be once a fortnight, then once a month, and the +black-eyed rector will preach patience and resignation. Oh, it was a +master-stroke, clapping him in that asylum! All we have got to do now +is to let well alone. When she is over head and ears in love with +Angelo she will come to easy terms with us, and so I'll move across the +way. I shall never be happy till I live at Huntercombe, and administer +the estate.” + +The maid-servant brought him a note, and said it was from her mistress. +Bassett took it rather contemptuously, and said, “The little woman is +always in a fidget now when you come here. She is all for peace.” He +read the letter. It ran thus: + + + +“DEAREST RICHARD--I implore you to do nothing more to hurt Sir Charles. +It is wicked, and it is useless. God has had pity on Lady Bassett, and +have you pity on her too. Jane has just heard it from one of the +Huntercombe servants.” + + + +“What does she mean with her 'its'? Why, surely--Read it, you.” + +They looked at each other in doubt and amazement for some time. Then +Richard Bassett rushed upstairs, and had a few hasty words with his +wife. + +She told him her news in plainer English, and renewed her mild +entreaties. He turned his back on her in the middle. He went out into +the nursery, and looked at his child. The little fellow, a beautiful +boy, slept the placid sleep of infancy. He leaned over him and kissed +him, and went down to the dining-room. + +His feet came tramp, tramp, very slowly, and when he opened the door +Mr. Wheeler was startled at the change in his appearance. He was pale, +and his countenance fallen. + +“Why, what is the matter?” said Wheeler. + +“She has done us. Ah, I was wiser than you; I feared her. It is the +same thing over again; a woman against two children. This shows how +strong she is; you can't realize what she has done--even when you see +it. An heir was wanted to those estates. Love cried out for one. Hate +cried out for one. Nature denied one. She has cut the Gordian knot; cut +it as boldly as the lowest woman in Huntercombe would have cut it under +such a terrible temptation.” + +“Oh, for shame!” + +“Think, and use your eyes.” + +“My eyes have seen the lady; I think I see her now, kneeling like an +angel over her husband, and pitying him for having knocked me down. I +say her only lover is her husband.” + +“Oh, that was a long time ago. Time brings changes. You can't take the +eyes out of my head.” + +“Suppose it should be only a false alarm?” + +“Is that likely? However, I will learn. Whether it is or not, that +child shall never rob mine of Bassett and Huntercombe. Anything is fair +against such a woman.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THAT very night, after Wheeler had gone home, Richard Bassett wrote a +cajoling letter to Mary Wells, asking her to meet him at the old place. + +When the girl got this letter she felt a little faint for a moment; but +she knew the man, his treachery, and his hard egotism and selfishness +so well, that she tossed the letter aside, and resolved to take no +notice. Her trust was all in her mistress, for whom, indeed, she had +more real affection than for any living creature; as for Richard +Bassett she absolutely detested him. + +As the day wore on she took another view of matters: her deceiver was +the enemy of her mistress; she might do her a service by going to this +rendezvous, might learn something from him, and use it against him. + +So she went to the rendezvous with a heart full of bitter hate. + +Bassett, with all his assurance, could not begin his interrogatory all +in a moment. He made a sort of apology, said he felt he had been +unkind, and he had never been happy since he had deserted her. + +She cut that short. “I have found a better than you,” said she. “I am +going to London very soon--to be married.” + +“I am glad to hear it.” + +“No doubt you are.” + +“I mean for your sake.” + +“For my sake? You think as little of me as I do of you. Come, now, what +do you want of me--without a lie, if you _can?”_ + +“I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and hear your prospects.” + +“Well, I have told you.” And she pretended to be going. + +“Don't be in such a hurry. Tell us the news. Is it true that Lady +Bassett is expected--” + +“Oh, that is no news.” + +“It is to me.” + +“'Tain't no news in our house. Why, we have known it for months.” + +This took away the man's breath for a minute. + +At last he said, with a great deal of intention: + +“Will it be fair or dark?” + +“As God pleases.” + +“I'll bet you five pounds to one that it is dark.” + +Mary shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, as if these speculations +were too childish for her. + +“It's my lady you want to talk about, is it? I thought it was to make +me a wedding present.” + +He actually put his hand in his pocket and gave her two sovereigns. She +took them with a grim smile. + +He presumed on this to question her minutely. + +She submitted to the interrogatory. + +Only, as the questions were not always delicate, and the answer was +invariably an untruth, it may be as well to pass over the rest of the +dialogue. Suffice it to say that, whenever the girl saw the drift of a +question she lied admirably; and when she did not, still she lied upon +principle: it must be a good thing to deceive the enemy. + + + +Richard Bassett was now perplexed, and saw himself in that very +position which had so galled Lady Bassett six weeks or so before. He +could not make any advantageous move, but was obliged to await events. +All he could do was to spy a little on Lady Bassett, and note how often +she went to the asylum. + +After many days' watching he saw something new. + +Mr. Angelo was speaking to her with a good deal of warmth, when +suddenly she started from him, and then turned round upon him in a very +commanding attitude, and with prodigious fire. Angelo seemed then to +address her very humbly. But she remained rigid. At last Angelo retired +and left her so; but he was no sooner out of sight than she dropped +into a garden seat, and, taking out her handkerchief, cried a long +time. + +“Why doesn't the fool come back?” said Bassett, from his tower of +observation. + +He related this incident to Wheeler, and it impressed that worthy more +than all he had ever said before on the same subject. But in a day or +two Wheeler, who was a great gossip, and picked up every thing, came +and told Bassett that the parson was looking out for a curate, and +going to leave his living for a time, on the ground of health. “That is +rather against your theory, Mr. Bassett,” said he. + +“Not a bit,” said Bassett. “On the contrary, that is just what these +artful women do who sacrifice virtue but cling all the more to +reputation. I read French novels, my boy.” + +“Find 'em instructive?” + +“Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our writers dare. Her +turning away her lover _now_ is just the act of what the French call a +masterly woman--_maitresse femme._ She has got rid of him to close the +mouth of scandal; that is her game.” + +“Well,” said Wheeler, “you certainly are very ingenious, and so +fortified in your opinions that with you facts are no longer stubborn +things; you can twist them all your way. If he had stayed and buzzed +about her, while her husband was incarcerated, you would have found her +guilty: he goes to Rome and leaves her, and therefore you find her +guilty. You would have made a fine hanging judge in the good old +sanguinary times.” + +“I use my eyes, my memory, and my reason. She is a monster of vice and +deceit. Anything is fair against such a woman.” + +“I am sorry to hear you say that,” said Wheeler, becoming grave rather +suddenly. “A woman is a woman, and I tell you plainly I have gone +pretty well to the end of my tether with you.” + +“Abandon me, then,” said Bassett, doggedly; “I can go alone.” + +Wheeler was touched by this, and said, “No, no; I am not the man to +desert a friend; but pray do nothing rash--do nothing without +consulting me.” + +Bassett made no reply. + +About a week after this, as Lady Bassett was walking sadly in her own +garden, a great Newfoundland dog ran up to her without any warning, and +put his paws almost on her shoulder. + +She screamed violently, and more than once. + +One or two windows flew open, and among the women who put their heads +out to see what was the matter, Mary Wells was the first. + +The owner of the dog instantly whistled, and the sportive animal ran to +him; but Lady Bassett was a good deal scared, and went in holding her +hand to her side. Mary Wells hurried to her assistance, and she cried a +little from nervousness when the young woman came earnestly to her. + +“Oh, Mary! he frightened me so. I did not see him coming.” + +“Mr. Moss,” said Mary Wells, “here's a villain come and frightened my +lady. Go and shoot his dog, you and your son; and get the grooms, and +fling him in the horse-pond directly.” + +“No!” said Lady Bassett, firmly. “You will see that he does not enter +the house, that is all. Should he attempt that, then you will use force +for my protection. Mary, come to my room.” + +When they were together alone Lady Bassett put both hands on the girl's +shoulders, and made her turn toward her. + +“I think you love me, Mary?” said she, drinking the girl's eyes with +her own. + +“Ah! that I do, my lady.” + +“Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and why did you incite +those poor men to--It might have led to bloodshed.” + +“It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady!” + +“Oh, Mary!” + +“What, don't you see?” + +“No, no; I don't want to think so. It might have been an accident. The +poor dog meant no harm; it was his way of fawning, that was all.” + +“The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is worse than any beast +that ever was born; he is a cruel, cunning, selfish devil; and if I had +been a man he should never have got off alive.” + +“But are you sure?” + +“Quite. I was upstairs, and saw it all.” + +This was not true; she had seen nothing till her mistress screamed. + +“Then--anything is fair against such a villain.” + +“Of course it is.” + +“Let me think.” + +She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelligent face of hers +quite shone with hard thought. + +At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke. + +“I'll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Richard Bassett,” said she, slowly, +and with a strange depth of resolution. + +Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in close discussion; +but now Lady Bassett took the lead, and revealed to her astonished +adviser extraordinary and astounding qualities. + +They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous game to play with +such a woman. + +Mary Wells found herself a child compared with her mistress, now that +that lady was driven to put out all her powers. + +The conversation lasted about two hours: in that time the whole +campaign was settled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MARY WELLS by order went down, in a loose morning wrapper her mistress +had given her, and dined in the servants' hall. She was welcomed with a +sort of shout, half ironical; and the chief butler said, + +“Glad to see you come back to us, Miss Wells.” + +“The same to you, sir,” said Mary, with more pertness than logic; +“which I'm only come to take leave, for to-morrow I go to London, on +business.” + +“La! what's the business, I wonder?” inquired a house-maid, +irreverentially. + +“Well, my business is not your business, Jane. However, if you want to +know, I'm going to be married.” + +“And none too soon,” whispered the kitchen-maid to a footman. + +“Speak up, my dear,” said Mary. “There's nothing more vulgarer than +whispering in company.” + +“I said, 'What will Bill Drake say to that?'” + +“Bill Drake will say he was a goose not to make up his mind quicker. +This will learn him beauty won't wait for no man. If he cries when I am +gone, you lend him your apron to wipe his eyes, and tell him women +can't abide shilly-shallying men.” + +“That's a hexcellent sentiment,” said John the footman, “and a solemn +warning it is--” + +“To all such as footmen be,” said Mary. + +“We writes it in the fly-leaf of our Bibles accordingly,” said John. + +“No, my man, write it somewhere where you'll have a chance to read it.” + +This caused a laugh; and when it was over, the butler, who did not feel +strong enough to chaff a lady of this caliber, inquired obsequiously +whether he might venture to ask who was the happy stranger to carry off +such a prize. + +“A civil question deserves a civil answer, Mr. Wright,” said Mary. “It +is a sea-faring man, the mate of a ship. He have known me a few years +longer than any man in these parts. Whenever he comes home from a +voyage he tells me what he has made, and asks me to marry him. I have +said 'No' so many times I'm sick and tired; so I have said 'Yes' for +once in a way. Changes are lightsome, you know.” + +Thus airily did Mary Wells communicate her prospects, and next morning +early was driven to the station; a cart had gone before with her +luggage, which tormented the female servants terribly; for, instead of +the droll little servant's box, covered with paper, she had a large +lady's box, filled with linen and clothes by the liberality of Lady +Bassett, and a covered basket, and an old carpet-bag, with some minor +packages of an unintelligible character. Nor did she make any secret +that she had money in both pockets; indeed, she flaunted some notes +before the groom, and told him none but her lady knew all she had done +for Sir Charles. “But,” said she, “he is grateful, you see, and so is +she.” + +She went off in the train, as gay as a lark; but she was no sooner out +of sight than her face changed its whole expression, and she went up to +London very grave and thoughtful. + +The traveling carriage was ordered at ten o'clock next day, and packed +as for a journey. + +Lady Bassett took her housekeeper with her to the asylum. + +She had an interview with Sir Charles, and told him what Mr. Bassett +had done, and the construction Mary Wells had put on it. + +Sir Charles turned pale with rage, and said he could no longer play the +patient game. He must bribe a keeper, make his escape, and kill that +villain. + +Lady Bassett was alarmed, and calmed it down. + +“It was only a servant's construction, and she might be wrong; but it +frightened me terribly; and I fear it is the beginning of a series of +annoyances and encroachments; and I have lost Mr. Angelo; he has gone +to Italy. Even Mary Wells left me this morning to be married. I think I +know a way to turn all this against Mr. Bassett; but I will not say it, +because I want to hear what you advise, dearest.” + +Sir Charles did not leave her long in doubt. He said, “There is but one +way; you must leave Huntercombe, and put yourself out of that +miscreant's way until our child is born.” + +“That would not grieve me,” said Lady Bassett. “The place is odious to +me, now you are not there. But what would censorious people say?” + +“What could they say, except that you obeyed your husband?” + +“Is it a command, then, dearest?” + +“It is a command; and, although you are free, and I am a +prisoner--although you are still an ornament to society, and I pass for +an outcast, still I expect you to obey me when I assume a husband's +authority. I have not taken the command of you quite so much as you +used to say I must; but on this occasion I do. You will leave +Huntercombe, and avoid that caitiff until our child is born.” + +“That ends all discussion,” said Lady Bassett. “Oh, Charles, my only +regret is that it costs me nothing to obey you. But when did it ever? +My king!” + +He had ordered her to do the very thing she wished to do. + +She now gave her housekeeper minute instructions, settled the board +wages of the whole establishment, and sent her home in the carriage, +retaining her own boxes and packages at the inn. + + + +Richard Bassett soon found out that Lady Bassett had left Huntercombe. +He called on Wheeler and told him. Wheeler suggested she had gone to be +near her husband. + +“No,” said Bassett, “she has joined her lover. I wonder at our +simplicity in believing that fellow was gone to Italy.” + +“This is rich,” said Wheeler. “A week ago she was guilty, and a +Machiavel in petticoats; for why? she had quarreled with her Angelo, +and packed him off to Italy. Now she is guilty; and why? because he is +not gone to Italy--not that you know whether he is or not. You reason +like a mule. As for me, I believe none of this nonsense--till you find +them together.” + +“And that is just what I mean to do.” + +“We shall see.” + +“You will see.” + +Very soon after this a country gentleman met Wheeler on market-day, and +drew him aside to ask him a question. “Do you advise Mr. Richard +Bassett still?” + +“Yes.” + +“Did you set him to trespass on Lady Bassett's lawn, and frighten her +with a great dog in the present state of her health?” + +“Heaven forbid! This is the first I've heard of such a thing.” + +“I am glad to hear you say that, Tom Wheeler. There, read that. Your +client deserves to be flogged out of the county, sir.” And he pulled a +printed paper out of his pocket. It was dated from the Royal Hotel, +Bath, and had been printed with blanks, as follows; but a lady's hand +had filled in the dates. + +“On the day ---- of ----, while I was walking alone in my garden, Mr. +Richard Bassett, the person who has bereaved me by violence of my +protector, came, without leave, into my private grounds, and brought a +very large dog; it ran to me, and frightened me so that I nearly +fainted with alarm. Mr. Bassett was aware of my condition. Next day I +consulted my husband, and he ordered me to leave Huntercombe Hall, and +put myself beyond the reach of trespassers and outrage. + +“One motive has governed Mr. Bassett in all his acts, from his +anonymous letter to me before my marriage--which I keep for your +inspection, together with the proofs that he wrote it--to the barbarous +seizure of my husband upon certificates purchased beforehand, and this +last act of violence, which has driven me from the county for a time. + +“Sir Charles and I have often been your hosts and your guests; we now +ask you to watch our property and our legal rights, so long as through +injustice and cruelty my husband is a prisoner, his wife a fugitive.” + + + +“There,” said the gentleman, “these papers are going all round the +county.” + +Wheeler was most indignant, and said he had never been consulted, and +had never advised a trespass. He begged a loan of the paper, and took +it to Bassett's that very same afternoon. + +“So you have been acting without advice,” said he, angrily; “and a fine +mess you have made of it.” And, though not much given to violent anger, +he dashed the paper down on the table, and hurt his hand a little. +Anger must be paid for, like other luxuries. + +Bassett read it, and was staggered a moment; but he soon recovered +himself, and said, “What is the foolish woman talking about?” + +He then took a sheet of paper, and said he would soon give her a Roland +for an Oliver. + +“Ay,” said Wheeler, grimly, “let us see how you will put down _the +foolish woman._ I'll smoke a cigar in the garden, and recover my +temper.” + +Richard Bassett's retort ran thus: + + + +“I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and if I put restraint +upon Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. Experienced +physicians represented him homicidal and suicidal; and I protected both +Lady Bassett and himself by the act she has interpreted so harshly. + +“As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle as a +lamb. I did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor that the poor +dog would run and welcome her. She is playing a comedy: the real truth +is, a gentleman had left Huntercombe whose company is necessary to her. +She has gone to join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon + +“RICHARD BASSETT.” + + + +When he had written this Bassett ordered his dog-cart. + +Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last suggestion in it +was a libel, and an indictable one into the bargain. + +“What, if it is true--true to the letter?” + +“Even then you would not be safe, unless you could prove it by +disinterested witnesses.” + +“Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut this sentence out. Excuse me one +minute, I must put a few things in my carpetbag.” + +“What! going away?” + +“Of course I am.” + +“Better give me your address, then, in case anything turns up.” + +“If you were as sharp as you pass for you would know my address--Royal +Hotel, Bath, to be sure.” + +He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes with his +carpet-bag and wraps. + +“Wouldn't to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose chase?” asked +Wheeler. + +“No,” said Richard. “I'm not such a fool. Catch me losing twelve hours. +In that twelve hours they would shift their quarters. It is always so +when a fool delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath.” + +The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he rattled off to the +railway. + +He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 A.M., took a warm bath +instead of bed, and then ordered breakfast; asked to see the visitors' +book, and wrote a false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, +saw Lady Bassett's name. + +But he could not find Mr. Angelo's name in the book. + +He got hold of Boots, and feed him liberally, then asked him if there +was a handsome young parson there--very dark. + +Boots could not say there was. + +Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at another hotel, or +perhaps in lodgings, out of prudence. + +“Lady Bassett here still?” said he. + +Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. Did inquire, and +brought him word Lady Bassett had left for London yesterday morning. + +Bassett ground his teeth with vexation. + +No train to London for an hour and a half. He took a stroll through the +town to fill up the time. + +How often, when a man abandons or remits his search for a time, Fate +sends in his way the very thing he is after, but has given up hunting +just then! As he walked along the north side of a certain street, what +should he see but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eyebrows +of Mr. Angelo, shining from afar. + +That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps of a small +hotel. + +Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen. Looking round he saw he was +at the door of a respectable house that let apartments. He hurried in, +examined the drawing-room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, +and sent to the Royal for his bag. + +He installed himself near the window, to await one of two things, and +act accordingly. If Angelo left the place he should go by the same +train, and so catch the parties together; if the lady doubled back to +Bath, or had only pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, by +diligent watch and careful following. + +He wrote to Wheeler to announce this first step toward success. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +SOME days after this Mr. Rolfe received a line from Lady Bassett, to +say she was at the Adelphi Hotel, in John Street. He put some letters +into his pocket and called on her directly. + +She received him warmly, and told him, more fully than she had by +letter, how she had acted on his advice; then she told him of Richard +Bassett's last act, and showed him her retort. + +He knitted his brows at first over it; but said he thought her +proclamation could do no harm. + +“As a rule,” said he, “I object to flicking with a lady's whip when I +am going to crush, but--yes--it is able, and gives you a good excuse +for keeping out of the way of annoyances till we strike the blow. And +now I have something to consult you upon. May I read you some extracts +from your husband's letters to me?” + +“Oh, yes.” + +“Forgive a novelist; but this is a new situation, reading a husband's +letters to his wife. However, I have a motive, and so I had in +soliciting the correspondence with Sir Charles.” He then read her the +letters that are already before the reader, and also the following +extracts: + + + +“Mr. Johnson, a broken tradesman, has some imagination, though not of a +poetic kind; he is imbued with trade, and, in the daytime, exercises +several, especially a butcher's. When he sees any of us coming, he +whips before the nearest door or gate, and sells meat. He sells it very +cheap; the reason is, his friends allow him only a shilling or two in +coppers, and as every madman is the center of the universe, he thinks +that the prices of all commodities are regulated by the amount of +specie in his pocket. This is his style, 'Come, buy, buy, choice mutton +three farthings the carcass. Retail shop next door, ma'am. Jack, serve +the lady. Bill, tell him he can send me home those twenty bullocks, at +three half-pence each--' and so on. But at night he subsides into an +auctioneer, and, with knocking down lots while others are conversing, +gets removed occasionally to a padded room. Sometimes we humor him, and +he sells us the furniture after a spirited competition, and debits the +amounts, for cash is not abundant here. The other night, heated with +business, he went on from the articles of furniture to the company, and +put us all up in succession. + +“Having a good many dislikes, he sometimes forgot the auctioneer in the +man, and depreciated some lots so severely that they had to be passed; +but he set Miss Wieland in a chair, and descanted on her beauty, good +temper, and other gifts, in terms florid enough for Robins, or any +other poet. Sold for eighteen pounds, and to a lady. This lady had +formed a violent attachment to Miss W.; so next week they will be at +daggers drawn. My turn came, and the auctioneer did me the honor to +describe me as 'the lot of the evening.' He told the bidders to mind +what they were about, they might never again be able to secure a live +baronet at a moderate price, owing to the tightness of the money +market. Well, sir, I was honored with bids from several ladies; but +they were too timid and too honest to go beyond their means; my less +scrupulous sex soared above these considerations, and I was knocked +down for seventy-nine pounds fifteen shillings, amid loud applause at +the spirited result. My purchaser is a shop-keeper mad after gardening. +Dr. Suaby has given him a plot to cultivate, and he whispered in my +ear, 'The reason I went to a fancy price was, I can kill two birds with +one stone with you. You'll make a very good statee stuck up among my +flowers; and you can hallo, and keep those plaguy sparrows off.'” + + + +“Oh, what creatures for my darling to live among!” cried Lady Bassett +piteously. + +Mr. Rolfe stared, and said, “What, then, you are like all your sex--no +sense of humor?” + +“Humor! when my husband is in misery and degradation!” + +“And don't you see that the brave writer of these letters is steeled +against misery, and above degradation? Such men are not the mere sport +of circumstances. Your husband carries a soul not to be quelled by +three months in a well-ordered mad-house. But I will read no more, +since what gives me satisfaction gives you pain.” + +“Oh, yes, yes! Don't let me lose a word my husband has ever uttered.” + +“Well, I'll go on; but I'm horribly discouraged.” + +“I'm so sorry for that sir. Please forgive me.” + +Mr. Rolfe read the letter next in date-- + + + +“We are honored with one relic of antiquity, a Pythagorean. He has +obliged me with his biography. He was, to use his own words, engendered +by the sun shining on a dunghill at his father's door,' and began his +career as a flea; but his identity was, somehow, shifted to a boy of +nine years old. He has had a long spell of humanity, and awaits the +great change--which is to turn him to a bee. It will not find him +unprepared; he has long practiced humming, in anticipation. A faithful +friend, called Caffyn, used to visit him every week. Caffyn died last +year, and the poor Pythagorean was very lonely and sad; but, two months +ago, he detected his friend in the butcher's horse, and is more than +consoled, for he says, Caffyn comes six times a week now, instead of +once.'” + + + +“Poor soul!” said Lady Bassett. “What a strange world for him to be +living in. It seems like a dream.” + +“There is something stranger coming in this last letter.” + +“I have at last found one madman allied to Genius. It has taken me a +fortnight to master his delusion, and to write down the vocabulary he +has invented to describe the strange monster of his imagination. All +the words I write in italics are his own. + +“Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed for malignant +purposes, which machine is an _air-loom._ It rivals the human machine +in this, that it can operate either on mind or matter. It was invented, +and is worked, by a gang of villains superlatively skillful in +_pneumatic chemistry, physiology, nervous influence, sympathy,_ and the +_higher metaphysic,_ men far beyond the immature science of the present +era, which, indeed, is a favorite subject of their ridicule. + +“The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only seen the four +highest: _Bill, the King,_ a master of the art of _magnetic +impregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster,_ the short-hand writer of the +gang; _Sir Archy,_ Chief Liar to the Association; and the +_glove-woman,_ so called from her always wearing cotton mittens. This +personage has never been known to speak to any one. + +“The materials used in the air-loom by these _pneumatic adepts_ are +infinite; but principally _effluvia of certain metals, poisons, +soporific scents,_ etc. + +“The principal effects are: + +“1st. EVENT-WORKING.--This is done by _magnetic manipulation_ of kings, +emperors, prime ministers, and others; so that, while the world is +fearing and admiring them, they are, in reality, mere puppets played by +the workers of the air-loom. + +“2d. CUTTING SOUL FROM SENSE.--This is done _by diffusing the magnetic +warp from the root of the nose under the base of the skull, till it +forms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can have no +communication with the operations of the intellect._ + +“3d. KITING.--As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air-loom can lift +an idea into the brain, where it floats and undulates for hours +together. The victim cannot get rid of an idea so insinuated. + +“4th. LOBSTER-CRACKING.--An external pressure of the magnetic +atmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams has been so +operated on, and says he felt as if he was grasped by an enormous pair +of nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected to a piercing pressure, which +he still remembers with horror. Death sometimes results from +Lobster-cracking. + +“5th. LENGTHENING THE BRAIN.--_As the cylindrical mirror lengthens the +countenance,_ so these assailants find means to _elon_gate the brain. +This distorts the ideas, and subjects the most serious are made silly +and ridiculous. + +“6th. THOUGHT-MAKING.--While one of these villains sucks at the brain +of the assailed, and extracts his existing sentiments, another will +press into the vacuum ideas very different from his real thoughts. Thus +his mind is physically enslaved.” + + + +Then Sir Charles goes on to say: + + + +“Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I thought I would +try and reason him out of his delusion. I asked if he had ever seen +this gang and their machine. + +“He said yes, they operated on him this morning. 'Then show them me,' +said I. 'Young man,' said he, satirically, 'do you think these +assassins, and their diabolical machine, would be allowed to go on, if +they could be laid hands on so easily? The gang are fertile in +disguise; the machine operates at considerable distances.' + +“To drive him into a corner, I said, 'Will you give me a drawing of +it?' He seemed to hesitate, so I said, 'If you can not draw it, you +never saw it, and never will.' He assented to that, and I was vain +enough to think I had staggered him; but yesterday he produced the +inclosed sketch and explanation. After this I sadly fear he is +incurable. + +“There are three sane patients in this asylum, besides myself. I will +tell you their stories when you come here, which I hope will be soon; +for the time agreed on draws near, and my patience and self-control are +sorely tried, as day after day rolls by, and sees me still in a +madhouse.” + + + +“There, Lady Bassett,” said Mr. Rolfe. “And now for my motive in +reading these letters. Sir Charles may still have a crotchet, an +inordinate desire for an heir; but, even if he has, the writer of these +letters has nothing to fear from any jury; and, therefore, I am now +ready to act. I propose to go down to the asylum to-morrow, and get him +out as quickly as I can.” + +Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then she turned suddenly +pale, and her countenance fell. She said nothing. + +Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last meeting, she was +writhing at her inaction. He began to puzzle himself. She watched him +keenly. He thought to himself, “Perhaps she dreads the excitement of +meeting--for herself.” + +At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would take to liberate Sir +Charles. + +“Not quite a week, if Richard Bassett is well advised. If he fights +desperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the work +an hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mix +the two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don't +like to say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and write +to Dr. Suaby that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get a +line from you to go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do the +work.” + +This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thanked +him. + +“You need not waste words over it,” said he. “Write one word, 'ACT!' +That will be the shortest letter you ever wrote.” + +The rest of the conversation is not worth recording. + +Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, and +waited. + +But day after day went by, and the order never came to act. + +Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he +could have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But +he rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. +He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both +husband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the +delay. + +Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time. + +At last a letter came from Gloucester Place. + + + +“Will my kind friend now ACT? + +“Gratefully, + +“BELLA BASSETT.” + + + +Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for +Bellevue House. + + + +On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea +with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had +left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of +undoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London. + +The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door. + +A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of +title in Gloucester Place, hard by. + +“I will come,” said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as +soon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each +other. + +“Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady.” + +Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was +opened by the charwoman. + +He asked her with some doubt if that was the house. + +The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was +from the country, and was looking out for some servants. + +This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, over +the balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's saying +it was, begged him to step upstairs at once. + +He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was all +discretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, she +would do anything for her dear mistress. + +Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who could +obey orders, was as good as a number, or better. + +He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at once +that the patient was in labor. + +He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, and +dine with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments. + +The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam--a meek, sorrowful +patient--an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland. + +Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite. + +Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents. + +“So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?” + +“The humors of the place, you mean.” + +“Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected me +along with the rest?” + +“No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His pen +failed at you. 'You must come and _see_ the doctor,' he said. So here I +am.” + +“Oh,” said the doctor, “if your wit and his are both to be leveled at +me, I had better stop your mouths. Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, will +you take Miss Wieland? Sorry we have not another lady to keep you +company, madam.” + +“Are you? Then I'm not,” said the lady smartly. + +The dinner passed like any other, only Rolfe observed that Dr. Suaby +took every fair opportunity of drawing the pluckless Mr. Hyam into +conversation, and that he coldly ignored the Exquisite. + +“I have seen that young man about town, I think,” said Mr. Rolfe. +“Where was it, I wonder?” + +“The Argyll Rooms, or the Casino, probably.” + +“Thank you, doctor. Oh, I forgot; you owed me one. He is no favorite of +yours.” + +“Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally.” + +“Medicinally? That's too deep for a layman.” + +“To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good.” + +“Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought.” + +“No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; but you know very +little, begging your pardon.” + +“That is the theory of compensation. When you know very little about a +thing you must talk a great deal about it. Well, I'm here for +instruction; thirsting for it.” + +“All the better; we'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.” + +“All right: but not of your favorite Acetate of Morphia; because that +is the draught that takes the reason prisoner.” + +“It's no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has taught me that all +sedatives excite; if they soothe at first, they excite next day. My +antidotes to mental excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and, best +of all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows it. To +put it shortly--prolonged bodily excitement antidotes mental +excitement.” + +“I'll take a note of that. It is the wisest thing I ever heard from any +learned physician.” + +“Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are a little prejudiced +against the faculty.” + +“Only in their business. They are delightful out of that. But, come +now, nobody hears us--confess, the system which prescribes drugs, +drugs, drugs at every visit and in every case, and does not give a +severe selection of esculents the first place, but only the second or +third, must be rotten at the core. Don't you despise a layman's eye. +All the professions want it.” + +“Well, you are a writer; publish a book, call it Medicina laici, and +send me a copy.” + +“To slash in the _Lancet?_ Well, I will: when novels cease to pay and +truth begins to.” + +In the course of the evening Mr. Rolfe drew Dr. Suaby apart, and said, +“I must tell you frankly, I mean to relieve you of one of your +inmates.” + +“Only one? I was in hopes you would relieve me of all the sane people. +They say you are ingenious at it. All I know is, I can't get rid of an +inmate if the person who signed the order resists. Now, for instance, +here's a Mrs. Hallam came here unsound: religious delusion. Has been +cured two months. I have reported her so to her son-in-law, who signed +the order; but he will not discharge her. He is vicious, she +scriptural; bores him about eternity. Then I wrote to the Commissioners +in Lunacy; but they don't like to strain their powers, so they wrote to +the affectionate son-in-law, and he politely declines to act. Sir +Charles Bassett the same: three weeks ago I reported him cured, and the +detaining relative has not even replied to me.” + +“Got a copy of your letter?” + +“Of course. But what if I tell you there is a gentleman here who never +had any business to come, yet he is as much a fixture as the grates. I +took him blindfold along with the house. I signed a deed, and it is so +stringent I can't evade one of my predecessor's engagements. This old +rogue committed himself to my predecessor's care, under medical +certificates; the order he signed himself.” + +“Illegal, you know.” + +“Of course; but where's the remedy? The person who signed the order +must rescind it. But this sham lunatic won't rescind it. Altogether the +tenacity of an asylum is prodigious. The statutes are written with +bird-lime. Twenty years ago that old Skinflint found the rates and +taxes intolerable; and doesn't everybody find them intolerable? To +avoid these rates and taxes he shut up his house, captured himself, and +took himself here; and here he will end his days, excluding some +genuine patient, unless _you_ sweep him into the street for me.” + +“Sindbad, I will try,” said Rolfe, solemnly; “but I must begin with Sir +Charles Bassett. By-the-by, about his crotchet?” + +“Oh, he has still an extravagant desire for children. But the cerebral +derangement is cured, and the other, standing by itself, is a foible, +not a mania. It is only a natural desire in excess. If they brought me +Rachel merely because she had said, 'Give me children, or I die,' and I +found her a healthy woman in other respects, I should object to receive +her on that score alone.” + +“You are deadly particular--compared with some of them,” said Rolfe. + +That evening he made an appointment with Sir Charles, and visited him +in his room at 8 A. M. He told him he had seen Lady Bassett in London, +and, of course, he had to answer many questions. He then told him he +came expressly to effect his liberation. + +“I am grateful to you, sir,” said Sir Charles, with a suppressed and +manly emotion. + +“Here are my instructions from Lady Bassett; short, but to the point.” + +“May I keep that?” + +“Why, of course.” + +Sir Charles kissed his wife's line, and put the note in his breast. + +“The first step,” said Rolfe, “is to cut you in two. That is soon done. +You must copy in your own hand, and then sign, this writing.” And he +handed him a paper. + + + +“I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct James Sharpe, +of Gray's Inn, my Solicitor, to sue the person who signed the order for +my incarceration--in the Court of Common Pleas; and to take such other +steps for my relief as may be advised by my counsel--Mr. Francis +Rolfe.” + + + +“Excuse me,” said Sir Charles, “if I make one objection. Mr. Oldfield +has been my solicitor for many years. I fear it will hurt his feelings +if I intrust the matter to a stranger. Would there be any objection to +my inserting Mr. Oldfield's name, sir?” + +“Only this: he would think he knew better than I do; and then I, who +know better than he does, and am very vain and arrogant, should throw +up the case in a passion, and go back to my MS.; and humdrum Oldfield +would go to Equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall on your +estate instead of on your enemy; and you would be here eighteen months +instead of eight or ten days. No, Sir Charles, you can't mix champagne +and ditch-water; you can't make Invention row in a boat with Antique +Twaddle, and you mustn't ask me to fight your battle with a blunt +knife, when I have got a sharp knife that fits my hand.” + +Mr. Rolfe said this with more irritation than was justified, and +revealed one of the great defects in his character. + +Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled, and said, “I withdraw a proposal +which I see annoys you.” He then signed the paper. + +Mr. Rolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, “Now you are cut in +two. One you is here; but Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you works +out of the asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference. +Compare notes with those who have tried the other way. Yet, simple and +obvious as this is, would you believe it, I alone have discovered this +method; I alone practice it.” + +He sent his secretary off to London at once, and returned to Sir +Charles. “The authority will be with Sharpe at 2:30. He will be at +Whitehall 3:15, and examine the order. He will take the writ out at +once, and if Richard Bassett is the man, he will serve it on him +to-morrow in good time, and send one of your grooms over here on +horseback with the news. We serve the writ personally, because we have +shufflers to deal with, and I will not give them a chance. Now I must +go and write a lie or two for the public; and then inspect the asylum +with Suaby. Before post-time I will write to a friend of mine who is a +Commissioner of Lunacy, one of the strong-minded ones. We may as well +have two strings to our bow.” + +Sir Charles thanked him gracefully, and said, “It is a rare thing, in +this selfish world, to see one man interest himself in the wrongs of +another, as you are good enough to do in mine.” + +“Oh,” said Rolfe, “all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. My +business is Lying; and I drudge at it. So to escape now and then to the +play-ground of Truth and Justice is a great amusement and recreation to +poor me. Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into Mendacity; +and that's the thing that pays.” + +With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled away. + +Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this vein of +incident, I jump to what occurred toward evening. + +Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. Suaby that a man had +walked all the way from Huntercombe to see Sir Charles Bassett. + +“Poor fellow!” said Dr. Suaby; “I should like to see him. Would you +mind receiving him here?” + +“Oh, no.” + +“On second thoughts, James, you had better light a candle in the next +room--in case.” + +A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of Moses Moss entered +the room. Being bareheaded, he saluted the company by pulling his head, +and it bobbed. He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soon +distinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance beamed with simple +and affectionate satisfaction. + +“How d'ye do, Moss?” said Sir Charles. + +“Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in my mind. There +be a trifle too many rogues afoot to please me. However, I told my +mistress this morning, says I, 'Before I puts up with this here any +longer, I must go over there and see him; for here's so many lies +a-cutting about,' says I, 'I'm fairly mazed.' So, if you please, Sir +Charles, will you be so good as to tell me out of your own mouth, and +then I shall know: be you crazy or hain't you--ay or no?” + +Suaby and Rolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; but Sir Charles +said, gravely, he was not crazy. “Do I look crazy, Moss?” + +“That ye doan't; you look twice the man you did. Why, your cheeks did +use to be so pasty like; now you've got a color--but mayhap” (casting +an eye on the decanters) “ye're flustered a bit wi' drink.” + +“No, no,” said Rolfe, “we have not commenced our nightly debauch yet; +only just done dinner.” + +“Then there goes another. This will be good news to home. Dall'd if I +would not ha' come them there thirty miles on all-fours for't. But, +sir, if so be you are not crazy, please think about coming home, for +things ain't as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away for +her groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard Bassett; and him +and his lawyer they have put it about as you are dead in law; that is +the word: and so the servants they don't know what to think; and the +village folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on 'em in jail: +and Joe and I, we wants to fight un, but my dame she is timorous, and +won't let us, because of the laayer. And th' upshot is, this here +Richard Bassett is master after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, +and brings men with a pole measure, and uses the place as his'n mostly; +but our Joe bides in the Hall with his gun, and swears he'll shoot him +if he sets foot in the house. Joe says he have my lady's leave and +license so to do, but not outside.” + +Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with indignation. + +Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, “Control yourself, sir.'” + +“I am not going to control _myself,”_ cried Rolfe, in a rage. “Don't +you take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall not last long.” + +“Ah!” + +“Dr. Suaby, can you lend me a gig or a dog-cart, with a good horse?” + +“Yes. I have got a WONDERFUL roadster, half Irish, half Norman.” + +“Then, Mr. Moss, to-morrow you and I go to Huntercombe: you shall show +me this Bassett, and we will give him a pill.” + +“Meantime,” said Dr. Suaby, “I take a leaf out of your Medicina laici, +and prescribe a hearty supper, a quart of ale, and a comfortable bed to +Mr. Moss. James, see him well taken care of. Poor man!” said he, when +Moss had retired. “What simplicity! what good sense! what ignorance of +the world! what feudality, if I may be allowed the expression.” + +Sir Charles was manifestly discomposed, and retired to bed early. + +Rolfe drove off with Moss at eight o'clock, and was not seen again all +day. Indeed, Sir Charles was just leaving Dr. Suaby's room when he came +in rather tired, and would not say a word till they gave him a cup of +tea: then he brightened up and told his story. + +“We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff did not come nor send +by the first train. His clerk arrived by the second. We went to +Huntercombe village together, and on the road I gave him some special +instructions. Richard Bassett not at home. We used a little bad +language and threw out a skirmisher--Moss, to wit--to find him. Moss +discovered him on your lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flower +beds, with Wheeler looking over the boundary wall. + +“We went up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. He +took it quite coolly; but when he saw at whose suit it was he turned +pale. He recovered himself directly, though, and burst out laughing. +'Suit of Sir Charles Bassett. Why, he can't sue: he is civiliter +mortuus: mad as a March hare: in confinement.' Clerk told him he was +mistaken; Sir Charles was perfectly sane. 'Good-day, sir.' So then +Bassett asked him to wait a little. He took the writ away, and showed +it Wheeler, no doubt. He came back, and blustered, and said, 'Some +other person has instructed you: you will get yourself into trouble, I +fear.' The little clerk told him not to alarm himself; Mr. Sharpe was +instructed by Sir Charles Bassett, in his own handwriting and +signature, and said, 'It is not my business to argue the case with you. +You had better take the advice of counsel.' 'Thank you,' said Bassett; +'that would be wasting a guinea.' 'A good many thousand guineas have +been lost by that sort of economy,' says the little clerk, solemnly. +Oh, and he told him Mr. Sharpe was instructed to indict him for a +trespass if he ever came there again; and handed him a written paper to +that effect, which we two had drawn up at the station; and so left him +to his reflections. We went into the house, and called the servants +together, and told them to keep the rooms warm and the beds aired, +since you might return any day.” + +Upon this news Sir Charles showed no premature or undignified triumph, +but some natural complacency, and a good deal of gratitude. + +The next day was blank of events, but the next after Mr. Rolfe received +a letter containing a note addressed to Sir Charles Bassett. Mr. Rolfe +sent it to him. + + + +SIR--I am desired to inform you that I attended Lady Bassett last +night, when she was safely delivered of a son. Have seen her again this +morning. Mother and child are doing remarkably well. + +“W. BODDINGTON, Surgeon, 17 Upper Gloucester Place.” + + + +Sir Charles cried, “Thank God! thank God!” He held out the paper to Mr. +Rolfe, and sat down, overpowered by tender emotions. + +Mr. Rolfe devoured the surgeon's letter at one glance, shook the +baronet's hand eloquently, and went away softly, leaving him with his +happiness. + +Sir Charles, however, began now to pine for liberty; he longed so to +join his wife and see his child, and Rolfe, observing this, chafed with +impatience. He had calculated on Bassett, advised by Wheeler, taking +the wisest course, and discharging him on the spot. He had also hoped +to hear from the Commissioner of Lunacy. But neither event took place. + +They could have cut the Gordian knot by organizing an escape: Giles and +others were to be bought to that: but Dr. Suaby's whole conduct had +been so kind, generous, and confiding, that this was out of the +question. Indeed, Sir Charles had for the last month been there upon +parole. + +Yet the thing had been wisely planned, as will appear when I come to +notice the advice counsel had given to Bassett in this emergency. But +Bassett would not take advice: he went by his own head, and prepared a +new and terrible blow, which Mr. Rolfe did not foresee. + +But meantime an unlooked-for and accidental assistant came into the +asylum, without the least idea Sir Charles was there. + +Mrs. Marsh, early in her married life, converted her husband to +religion, and took him about the county preaching. She was in earnest, +and had a vein of natural eloquence that really went straight to +people's bosoms. She was certainly a Christian, though an eccentric +one. Temper being the last thing to yield to Gospel light, she still +got into rages; but now she was very humble and penitent after them. + +Well, then, after going about doing good, she decided to settle down +and do good. As for Marsh, he had only to obey. Judge for yourself: the +mild, gray-haired vicar of Calverly, who now leaned on la Marsh as on a +staff, thought it right at the beginning to ascertain that she was not +opposing her husband's views. He put a query of this kind as delicately +as possible. + +“My husband!” cried she. “If he refused to go to heaven with me, I'd +take him there by the ear.” And her eye flashed with the threat. + +Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Vandeleur was ruined, and in Dr. +Suaby's asylum, not ten miles from her country-seat. This intelligence +touched her. She contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly and +spiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and she felt bound +to see if nothing could be done for the poor wretch. A timid Christian +would have sent some man to do the good work; but this was a lion-like +one. So she mounted her horse, and taking only her groom with her, was +at Bellevue in no time. + +She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, sent in her card, +and was received at once. + +“You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur?” + +The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. + +“I wish to see him.” + +“Certainly, madam.--James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, and +send Mr. Vandeleur to her.” + +“He is not violent, is he?” said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate when +she saw there was no opposition. + +“Not at all, madam--the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money about +you, it might be as well to confide it to me.” + +“What, will he rob me?” + +“Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you +out of it.” + +“No fear of that, sir.” And she followed James. + +He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the +window, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, +reading or working in the sun. + +“Poor things!” she thought; “they are not so very miserable: perhaps +God comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching +would do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let +me; they lean on the arm of flesh.” + +Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and +in came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning +smile he had put on for conquest. + +He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded. + +At last he burst out, “Somer--Was it me you wished to see?” + +“Yes,” said she, very kindly. “I came to see you for old acquaintance. +You must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married.” + +By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chair +with ingratiating zeal. + +“Sit down by me,” said she, as if she was petting a child. “Are you +sure you remember me?” + +Says the Courtier, “Who could forget you that had ever had the honor--” + +Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. “I did not come here for +folly,” said she. Then, rather naively, “I begin to doubt your being so +very mad.” + +“Mad? No, of course I am not.” + +“Then what brings you here?” + +“Stumped.” + +“What, have I mistaken the house? Is it a jail?” + +“Oh, no! I'll tell you. You see I was dipped pretty deep, and duns +after me, and the Derby my only chance; so I put the pot on. But a dark +horse won: the Jews knew I was done: so now it was a race which should +take me. Sloman had seven writs out: I was in a corner. I got a friend +that knows every move to sign me into this asylum. They thought it was +all up then, and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound.” + +Before he could complete this autobiographical sketch Mrs. Marsh +started up in a fury, and brought her whip down on the table with a +smartish cut. + +“You little heartless villain!” she screamed. “Is this, the way you +play upon people: bringing me from my home to console a maniac, and, +instead of that, you are only what you always were, a spendthrift and a +scamp? Finely they will laugh at me.” + +She clutched the whip in her white but powerful hand till it quivered +in the air, impatient for a victim. + +“Oh!” she cried, panting, and struggling with her passion, “if I wasn't +a child of God, I'd--” + +“You'd give me a devilish good hiding,” said Vandeleur, demurely. + +“That I _would,”_ said she, very earnestly. + +“You forget that I never told you I was mad. How could I imagine you +would hear it? How could I dream you would come, even if you did?” + +“I should be no Christian if I didn't come.” + +“But I mean we parted bad friends, you know.” + +“Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse you sent me a new +sidesaddle. A woman does not forget those little things. You were a +gentleman, though a child of Belial.” + +Vandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to say, “In both those +matters you are the highest authority earth contains.” + +“So come,” said she, “here is plenty of writing-paper. Now tell me all +your debts, and I will put them down.” + +“What is the use? At a shilling in the pound, six hundred will pay them +all.” + +“Are you sure?” + +“As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the money.” + +“Oh, I only mean to lend it you.” + +“That alters the case.” + +“Prodigiously.” And she smiled satirically. “Now your friend's address, +that is treating with your creditors.” + +“Must I?” + +“Unless you want to put me in a great passion.” + +“Anything sooner than that.” Then he wrote it for her. + +“And now,” said she, “grant me a little favor for old acquaintance. +Just kneel you down there, and let me wrestle with Heaven for you, that +you may be a brand plucked from the fire, even as I am.” + +The Pink of Politeness submitted, with a sigh of resignation. + +Then she prayed for him so hard, so beseechingly, so eloquently, he was +amazed and touched. + +She rose from her knees, and laid her head on her hand, exhausted a +little by her own earnestness. + +He stood by her, and hung his head. + +“You are very good,” he said. “It is a shame to let you waste it on me. +Look here--I want to do a little bit of good to another man, after you +praying so beautifully.” + +“Ah! I am so glad. Tell me.” + +“Well, then, you mustn't waste a thought on me, Rhoda. I'm a gambler +and a fool: let me go to the dogs at once; it is only a question of +time: but there's a fellow here that is in trouble, and doesn't deserve +it, and he was a faithful friend to you, I believe. I never was. And he +has got a wife: and by what I hear, you could get him out, I think, and +I am sure you would be angry with me afterward if I didn't tell you; +you have such a good heart. It is Sir Charles Bassett.” + +“Sir Charles Bassett here! Oh, his poor wife! What drove him mad? Poor, +poor Sir Charles!” + +“Oh, he is all right. They have cured him entirely; but there is no +getting him out, and he is beginning to lose heart, they say. There's a +literary swell here can tell you all about it; he has come down +expressly: but they are in a fix, and I think you could help them out. +I wish you would let me introduce you to him.” + +“To whom?” + +“To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels.” + +“I adore him. Introduce me at once. But Sir Charles must not see me, +nor know I am here. Say Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett's, begs to +be introduced.” + +Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe; but whispered out of his own +head, “A character for your next novel--a saint with the devil's own +temper.” + +This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her directly. + +As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, these two knew +each other intimately in about twelve minutes; and Rolfe told her all +the facts I have related, and Marsh went into several passions, and +corrected herself, and said she had been a great sinner, but was +plucked from the burning, and therefore thankful to anybody who would +give her a little bit of good to do. + +Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged her to see the +Commissioners in Lunacy, and use all her eloquence to get one of them +down. “They don't act upon my letters,” said he; “but it will be +another thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts it to them in person, +with all that power of face and voice I see in you. You are all fire; +and you can talk Saxon.” + +“Oh, I'll talk to them,” said Mrs. Marsh, “and God will give me words; +He always does when I am on His side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heart +bleeds for her. I will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night, if you +like. To-night? I'll go this instant!” + +“What!” said Rolfe: “is there a lady in the world who will go a journey +without packing seven trunks--and merely to do a good action?” + +“You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost time.” + +“At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose none. So I'll arm +you at once with certain documents, and you must not leave the +commissioners till they promise to send one of their number down +without delay to examine him, and discharge him if he is as we +represent.” + +Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe to Dr. Suaby's study. + +They armed her with letters and written facts, and she rode off at a +fiery pace; but not before she and Rolfe had sworn eternal friendship. + +The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She was chilled, but not +daunted. She produced Suaby's letter and Rolfe's, and when they were +read she played the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, she +convinced, she persuaded, she thundered. Fire seemed to come out of the +woman. + +Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, caught fire, and +declared he would go down next day and look into the matter on the +spot; and he kept his word. He came down; he saw Sir Charles and Suaby, +and penetrated the case. + +Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good heart, but rather +an arrogant manner. He was also slightly affected with official +pomposity and reticence; so, unfortunately, he went away without +declaring his good intentions, and discouraged them all with the fear +of innumerable delays in the matter. + +Now if Justice is slow, Injustice is swift. The very next day a +thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles and his friends. + +Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers from an asylum +kept by Burdoch, a layman, the very opposite of the benevolent Suaby. +His was a place where the old system of restraint prevailed, secretly +but largely: strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleas +and bugs destroyed the patients' rest; and to counteract the insects +morphia was administered freely. Given to the bugs and fleas, it would +have been an effectual antidote; but they gave it to the patients, and +so the insects won. + +These three keepers came with an order correctly drawn, and signed by +Richard Bassett, to deliver Sir Charles to the agents showing the +order. + +Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at the sight of the +order, and took it to Rolfe. + +“Resist!” said that worthy. + +“I have no right.” + +“On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while I--Has Bassett +paid you for Sir Charles's board?” + +“No.” + +“Decline to give him up till that is done, and be some time making out +the bill. Come what may, pray keep Sir Charles here till I send you a +note that I am ready.” + +He then hastened to Sir Charles and unfolded his plans, to him. + +Sir Charles assented eagerly. He was quite willing to run risks with +the hope of immediate liberation, which Rolfe held out. His own part +was to delay and put off till he got a line from Rolfe. + +Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole and the doctor's dog-cart, and +dashed into the town, distant two miles. + +First he went to the little theater, and found them just concluding a +rehearsal. Being a playwright, he was known to nearly all the people, +more or less, and got five supers and one carpenter to join him--for a +consideration. + +He then made other arrangements in the town, the nature of which will +appear in due course. + +Meantime Suaby had presented his bill. One of the keepers got into the +fly and took it back to the town. There, as Rolfe had anticipated, +lurked Richard Bassett. He cursed the delay, gave the man the money, +and urged expedition. The money was brought and paid, and Suaby +informed Sir Charles. + +But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry. He took a long time to pack; +and he was not ready till Vandeleur brought a note to him from Rolfe. + +Then Sir Charles came down. + +Suaby made Burdoch's keeper sign a paper to the effect that he had the +baronet in charge, and relieved Suaby of all further responsibility. + +Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. Suaby, and made him +promise to visit him at Huntercombe Hall. + +Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, and the fly +drove off. + +Sir Charles at that moment needed all his fortitude. The least mistake +or miscalculation on the part of his friends, and what might not be the +result to him? + +As the fly went slowly through the gate he saw on his right hand a +light carriage and pair moving up; but was it coming after him, or only +bringing visitors to the asylum? + +The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. It rolled and +rolled. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. He tried to look out of +the window to see if the carriage was following. + +One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. “Come, none of that, sir?” + +“You insolent scoundrel!” said Sir Charles. + +“Ay, ay,” said the man; “we'll see about that when we get you home.” + +Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive blackguard. + +He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over him. + +Just then they passed a little clump of fir-trees. + +In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number of men in crape +masks, stopped the horses, surrounded the carriage, and opened it with +brandishing of bludgeons and life-preservers, and pointing of guns. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A BIG man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of ferocious oaths at +the keepers, and threatened to send them to hell that moment if they +did not instantly deliver up that gentleman. + +The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for mercy. + +“Hand him out here, you scoundrels!” + +“Yes! yes! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is the use?” + +“Hand down his luggage.” + +It was done all in a flutter. + +“Now get in again; turn your horses' heads the other way, and don't +come back for an hour. You with your guns take stations in those trees, +and shoot them dead if they are back before their time.” + +These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, and Burdoch's party +were glad to get off, and they drove away quickly in the direction +indicated. + +However, as soon as they got over their first surprise they began to +smell a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it was scarcely twenty minutes +when they came back. + +But meantime the supers were paid liberally among the fir-trees by +Vandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung their dummy guns into a +cornfield, dispersed in different directions, and left no trace. + +But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment he was recaptured +he and his luggage were whisked off in the other carriage, and, with +Rolfe and his secretary, dashed round the town, avoiding the main +street, to a railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit. +Not that they dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and a firm +determination to fight if necessary, and also three tongues to tell the +truth, instead of one. + +At one in the morning they were in London. They slept at Mr. Rolfe's +house; and before breakfast Mr. Rolfe's secretary was sent to secure a +couple of prize-fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till further +notice. They were furnished with a written paper explaining the case +briefly, and were instructed to hit first and talk afterward should a +recapture be attempted. Should a crowd collect, they were to produce +the letter. These measures were to provide against his recapture under +the statute, which allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken upon the old +certificates for fourteen days after his escape from confinement, but +for no longer. + +Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these. + +Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his wife and +child. The faithful pugilists followed at his heels in another cab. + +Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Rolfe knew Lady Bassett's address: it was +the medical man who had written: but that did not much matter; Sir +Charles was sure to learn his wife's address from Mr. Boddington. He +called on that gentleman at 17 Upper Gloucester Place. Mr. Boddington +had just taken his wife down to Margate for her health; had only been +gone half an hour. + +This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently Sir Charles must +wait that gentleman's return. He wrote a line, begging Mr. Boddington +to send him Lady Bassett's address in a cab immediately on his return. + +He told Mr. Rolfe this; and then for the first time let out that his +wife's not writing to him at the asylum had surprised and alarmed him; +he was on thorns. + +Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, and at breakfast +time Sir Charles had a note to say Lady Bassett was at 119 Gloucester +Place, Portman Square. + +Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and then dashed off +in a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place. + +There was a bill in the window, “To be let, furnished. Apply to Parker +& Ellis.” + +He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked again. A lugubrious female +opened the door. + +“Lady Bassett?” + +“Don't live here, sir. House to be let.” + +Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told him. + +Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mistaken; but he would +look at his address-book. He did, and said it was certainly 119 +Gloucester Place; “Perhaps she has left,” said he. “She was very +healthy--an excellent patient. But I should not have advised her to +move for a day or two more.” + +Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the agents, Parker & +Ellis. + +They said, Yes; the house was Lady Bassett's for a few months. They +were instructed to let it. + +“When did she leave? I am her husband, and we have missed each other +somehow.” + +The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had brought the keys in her +carriage yesterday. + +Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance. + +“Did she give you no address?” + +“Yes, sir. Huntercombe Hall.” + +“I mean no address in London?” + +“No, sir; none.” + +Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, and all manner of +strange ideas came into his head. He did not know what to do, but he +could not bear to do nothing, so he drove to the _Times_ office and +advertised, requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to Mr. +Rolfe. + +At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe. + +That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by the +last post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett to +her husband. + + + +“119 Gloucester Place. + +“DARLING--The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for the +noise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy carriage. +Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journey +will be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you and +I were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soon +be again, I hope. + +“Your devoted wife. + +“BELLA BASSETT. + +“My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing.” + + + +Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfe +persuaded him not. “And mind,” said he, “the faithful pugilists must go +with you.” + +The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letter +from Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positively +discharged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett. + +Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosom +friend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife. + +She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, and +when he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a +window opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and saw +his wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him. He +rushed upstairs, into the right room by some mighty instinct, and held +her, panting and crying for joy, in his arms. + +That moment almost compensated what each had suffered. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +So full was the joy of this loving pair that, for a long time, they sat +rocking in each other's arms, and thought of nothing but their sorrows +past, and the sea of bliss they were floating on. + +But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. Swift to +interpret his every look, Lady Bassett rose, took two steps, came back +and printed a kiss on his forehead, and then went to a door and opened +it. + +“Mrs. Millar!” said she, with one of those tones by which these ladies +impregnate with meaning a word that has none at all; and then she came +back to her husband. + +Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a biggish bank of linen +and lace, with a little face in the middle. The good woman held it up +to Sir Charles, and he felt something novel stir inside him. He looked +at the little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, and a +good deal of curiosity; and then turned smiling to his wife. She had +watched him furtively but keenly, and her eyes were brimming over. He +kissed the little thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife's +hands, and kissed her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at baby +with him, hand in hand. It was a pretty picture. + +The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple women do when they +exhibit a treasure of this sort; she lifted the little mite slowly up +and down, and said, “Oh, you Beauty!” and then went off into various +inarticulate sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of the +new philosophers: they cannot have been invented after speech; that +would be retrogression; they must be the vocal remains of that hairy, +sharp-eared quadruped, our Progenitor, who by accident discovered +language, and so turned Biped, and went ahead of all the other hairy +quadrupeds, whose ears were too long or not sharp enough to stumble +upon language. + +Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett drew her husband a +little apart, and looking in his face with piteous wistfulness, said, +“You won't mind Richard Bassett and his baby now?” + +“Not I.” + +“You will never have another fit while you live?” + +“I promise.” + +“You will always be happy?” + +“I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear.” + +“Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel!” And she pounced +on the mite, and kissed it far harder than Sir Charles had. Heaven +knows what these gentle creatures are so rough with their mouths to +children, but so it is. + +And now how can a mere male relate all the pretty childish things that +were done and said to baby, and of baby, before the inevitable +squalling began, and baby was taken away to be consoled by another of +his subjects. + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other, +to murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other. + +But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassett +plucked up courage and said, “Charles, I am not quite happy. There is +one thing wanting.” And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed. +“I cannot nurse him.” + +“Never mind,” said Sir Charles kindly. + +“You forgive me?” + +“Forgive you, my poor girl! Why, is that a crime?” + +“It leads to so many things. You don't know what a plague a nurse is, +and makes one jealous.” + +“Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is a little +peevish. Don't let us be ungrateful to Heaven. As for me, while you and +our child live, I am proof against much greater misfortunes than that.” + +Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped. + +But it was renewed next morning in a more definite form. + +Sir Charles rose early; and in the pride and joy of his heart, and not +quite without an eye to triumphing over his mortal enemy and his cold +friends, sent a mounted messenger with orders to his servants to +prepare for his immediate reception, and to send out his landau and +four horses to the “Rose,” at Staveleigh, half-way between Huntercombe +and the place where he now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself able +for the journey. + +After breakfast he asked her rather suddenly whether Mrs. Millar was +not rather an elderly woman to select for a nurse. “I thought people +got a young woman for that office.” + +“Oh,” said Lady Bassett, “why, Mrs. Millar is not _the_ nurse. Of +course nurse is young and healthy, and from the country, and the best I +could have in every way for baby. But yet--oh, Charles, I hope you will +not be angry--who do you think nurse is? It is Mary Gosport--Mary Wells +that was.” + +Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and that together, and +said, “Why, she must have been playing the fool, then?” + +“Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman now, and her husband +gone to sea, and her child dead. Most wet-nurses have a child of their +own; and don't you think they must hate the stranger's child that parts +them from their own? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And the wet-nurse +is always a tyrant; and I thought, as this one has got into a habit of +obeying me, she might be more manageable; and then as to her having +been imprudent, I know many ladies who have been obliged to shut their +eyes a little. Why, consider, Charles, would good wives and good +mothers leave their own children to nurse a stranger's? Would their +husbands let them? And I thought,” said she, piteously, “we were so +fortunate to get a young, healthy girl, imprudent but not vicious, +whose fault had been covered by marriage, and then so attached to us +both as she is, poor thing!” + +Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of mole-hills. “Why, my +dear Bella,” said he, “after all, this is your department, not mine.” + +“Yes, but unless I please you in every department there is no happiness +for me.” + +“But you know you please me in everything; and the more I look into +anything, the wiser I always think you. You have chosen the best +wet-nurse possible. Send her to me.” + +Lady Bassett hesitated. “You will be kind to her. You know the +consequence if anything happens to make her fret. Baby will suffer for +it.” + +“Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she potentate till he is weaned. +Dress for the journey, my dear, and send nurse to me.” + +Lady Bassett went into the next room, and after a long time Mary came +to Sir Charles with baby in her arms. + +Mary had lost for a time some of her ruddy color, but her skin was +clearer, and somehow her face was softened. She looked really a +beautiful and attractive young woman. + +She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good look at him. + +“Well, nurse,” said he, cheerfully, “here we are back again, both of +us.” + +“That we be, sir.” And she showed her white teeth in a broad smile. +“La, sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. How well you do look, to be +sure!” + +“Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. You look pretty well +too; only a little pale; paler than Lady Bassett does.” + +“I give my color to the child,” said Mary, simply. + +She did not know she had said anything poetic; but Sir Charles was so +touched and pleased with her answer that he gave her a five-pound note +on the spot; and he said, “We'll bring your color back if beef and beer +and kindness can do it.” + +“I ain't afeard o' that, sir; and I'll arn it. 'Tis a lovely boy, sir, +and your very image.” + +Inspection followed; and something or other offended young master; he +began to cackle. But this nurse did not take him away, as Mrs. Millar +had. She just sat down with him and nursed him openly, with rustic +composure and simplicity. + +Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, and eyed the pair; for +all this was a new world of feeling to him. His paid servant seemed to +him to be playing the mother to his child. Somehow it gave him a +strange twinge, a sort of vicarious jealousy: he felt for his Bella. +But I think his own paternal pride, in all its freshness, was hurt a +little too. + +At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out of the room, with +a hint to Mary that she must wrap herself up, for it would be an open +carriage-- + +“Your own carriage, sir, and horses?” + +“Certainly.” + +“And do all the folk know as we are coming?” + +Sir Charles laughed. “Most likely. Gossip is not dead at Huntercombe, I +dare say.” + +Nurse's black eyes flashed. “All the village will be out. I hope _he_ +will see us ride in, the black-hearted villain!” + +Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into that topic; he went +about his business. + + + +Lady Bassett's carriage, duly packed, came round, and Lady Bassett was +ready soon afterward; so was Mrs. Millar; so was baby, imbedded now in +a nest of lawn and lace and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. Lady +Bassett explained _sotto voce_ to her husband, “Just at the last moment +she was seized with a desire to wear a silk gown I gave her. I argued +with her, but she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very hard +upon _you,_ dear.” + +Her face and voice were so piteous that Sir Charles burst out laughing. + +“We must take the bitter along with the sweet. Don't you think the +sweet rather predominates at present?” + +Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. “My darling is happy +now; trifles cannot put him out.” + +“I doubt if anything could shake me while I have you and our child. As +for that jade keeping us all waiting while she dons silk attire, it is +simply delicious. I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!” + +Mrs. Gosport appeared at last in a purple silk gown, and marched to the +carriage without the slightest sign of the discomfort she really felt; +but that was no wonder, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walk +not only smiling but jauntily, though dead lame on stilts, as you may +see any day in Regent Street. + +Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby and his attendants in +first, then Lady Bassett, and got in last himself. + +Before they had gone a mile Nurse No. 1 handed the child over to Nurse +No. 2 with a lofty condescension, as who should say, “You suffice for +porterage; I, the superior artist, reserve myself for emergencies.” No. +2 received the invaluable bundle with meek complacency. + +By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her position. + +“What is the matter, Mary?” said Lady Bassett, kindly. “Is the dress +too tight?” + +“No, no, my lady,” said Mary, sharply; “the gownd's all right.” And +then she was quiet a little. + +But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whispered Sir Charles, “I +think she wants to sit forward: _may_ I?” + +“Certainly not. I'll change with her. Here, Mary, try this side. We +shall have more room in the landau; it is double, with wide seats.” + +Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of the window. +Indeed, she was quiet for nearly half an hour. At the expiration of +that period the fit took her again. She beckoned haughtily for baby, +“which did come at her command,” as the song says. She got tired of +baby, or something, and handed him back again. + +Presently she was discovered to be crying. + +General consternation! Universal but vague consolation! + +Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. Millar looked back +assent. Lady Bassett assumed the command, and took off Mary's shawl. + +_“Yes,”_ said she to Mrs. Millar. “Now, Mary, be good; it _is_ too +tight.” + +Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty effort, while Lady +Bassett attacked the fastenings, and, with infinite difficulty, they +unhooked three bottom hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, and +the awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can command, and +how savagely abuse it to maltreat nature. + +Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh of relief told the +truth, which the lying tongue had denied, as it always does whenever +the same question is put. + +The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they entered the town +of Staveleigh. + +Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, and took the child +again. He was her banner in all public places. + +When they came up to the inn they were greeted with loud hurrahs. It +was market-day. The town was full of Sir Charles's tenants and other +farmers. His return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty had +resolved to ride with him into Huntercombe. + +When five or six, all shouting together, intimated this to Sir Charles, +he sent one of his people to order the butchers out to Huntercombe with +joints a score, and then to gallop on with a note to his housekeeper +and butler. “For those that ride so far with me must sup with me,” said +he; a sentiment that was much approved. + +He took Lady Bassett and the women upstairs and rested them about an +hour; and then they started for Huntercombe, followed by some thirty +farmers and a dozen towns-people, who had a mind for a lark and to sup +at Huntercombe Hall for once. + +The ride was delightful; the carriage bowled swiftly along over a +smooth road, with often turf at the side; and that enabled the young +farmers to canter alongside without dusting the carriage party. Every +man on horseback they overtook joined them; some they met turned back +with them, and these were rewarded with loud cheers. Every eye in the +carriage glittered, and every cheek was more or less flushed by this +uproarious sympathy so gallantly shown, and the very thunder of so many +horses' feet, each carrying a friend, was very exciting and glorious. +Why, before they got to the village they had fourscore horsemen at +their backs. + +As they got close to the village Mary Gosport held out her arms for +young master: this was not the time to forego her importance. + +The church-bells rang out a clashing peal, the cavalcade clattered into +the village. Everybody was out to cheer, and at sight of baby the +women's voices were as loud as the men's. Old pensioners of the house +were out bareheaded; one, with hair white as snow, was down on his +knees praying a blessing on them. + +Lady Bassett began to cry softly; Sir Charles, a little pale, but firm +as a rock; both bowing right and left, like royal personages; and well +they might; every house in the village belonged to them but one. + +On approaching that one Mary Gosport turned her head round, and shot a. +glance round out of the tail of her eye. Ay, there was Richard Bassett, +pale and gloomy, half-hid behind a tree at his gate: but Hate's quick +eye discerned him: at the moment of passing she suddenly lifted the +child high, and showed it him, pretending to show it to the crowd: but +her eye told the tale; for, with that act of fierce hatred and cunning +triumph, those black orbs shot a colored gleam like a furious +leopardess's. + +A roar of cheers burst from the crowd at that inspired gesture of a +woman, whose face and eyes seemed on fire: Lady Bassett turned pale. + +The next moment they passed their own gate, and dashed up to the hall +steps of Huntercombe. + +Sir Charles sent Lady Bassett to her room for the night. She walked +through a row of ducking servants, bowing and smiling like a gentle +goddess. + +Mary Gosport, afraid to march in a long dress with the child, for fear +of accidents, handed him superbly to Millar and strutted haughtily +after her mistress, nodding patronage. Her follower, the meek Millar, +stopped often to show the heir right and left, with simple geniality +and kindness. + +Sir Charles stood on the hall steps, and invited all to come in and +take pot-luck. + +Already spits were turning before great fires; a rump of beef, legs of +pork, and pease-puddings boiling in one copper; turkeys and fowls in +another; joints and pies baking in the great brick ovens; barrels of +beer on tap, and magnums of champagne and port marching steadily up +from the cellars, and forming in line and square upon sideboards and +tables. + +Supper was laid in the hall, the dining-room, the drawing-room, and the +great kitchen. + +Poor villagers trickled in: no man or woman was denied; it was open +house that night, as it had been four hundred years ago. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +WHEN Sharpe's clerk retired, after serving that writ on Bassett, +Bassett went to Wheeler and treated it as a jest. But Wheeler looked +puzzled, and Bassett himself, on second thoughts, said he should like +advice of counsel. Accordingly they both went up to London to a +solicitor, and obtained an interview with a counsel learned in the law. +He heard their story, and said, “The question is, can you convince a +jury he was insane at the time?” + +“But he can't get into court,” said Bassett. “I won't let him.” + +“Oh, the court will make you produce him.” + +“But I thought an insane person was civiliter mortuus, and couldn't +sue.” + +“So he is; but this man is not insane in law. Shutting up a man on +certificates is merely a preliminary step to a fair trial by his peers +whether he is insane or not. Take the parallel case of a felon. A +magistrate commits him for trial, and generally on better evidence than +medical certificates; but that does not make the man a felon, or +disentitle him to a trial by his peers; on the contrary, it entitles +him to a trial, and he could get Parliament to interfere if he was not +brought to trial. This plaintiff simply does what, he will say, you +ought to have done; he tries himself; if he tries you at the same time, +that is your fault. If he is insane now, fight. If he is not, I advise +you to discharge him on the instant, and then compound.” + +Wheeler said he was afraid the plaintiff was too vindictive to come to +terms. + +“Well, then, you can show you discharged him the moment you had reason +to think he was cured, and you must prove he was insane when you +incarcerated him; but I warn you it will be uphill work if he is sane +now; the jury will be apt to go by what they see.” + +Bassett and Wheeler retired; the latter did not presume to differ; but +Bassett was dissatisfied and irritated. + +“That fellow would only see the plaintiff's side,” said he. “The fool +forgets there is an Act of Parliament, and that we have complied with +its provisions to a T.” + +“Then why did you not ask his construction of the Act?” suggested +Wheeler. + +“Because I don't want his construction. I've read it, and it is plain +enough to anybody but a fool. Well, I have consulted counsel, to please +you; and now I'll go my own way, to please myself.” + +He went to Burdoch, and struck a bargain, and Sir Charles was to be +shifted to Burdoch's asylum, and nobody allowed to see him there, etc., +etc.; the old system, in short, than which no better has as yet been +devised for perpetuating, or even causing, mental aberration. + +Rolfe baffled this, as described, and Bassett was literally stunned. He +now saw that Sir Charles had an ally full of resources and resolution. +Who could it be? He began to tremble. He complained to the police, and +set them to discover who had thus openly and audaciously violated the +Act of Parliament, and then he went and threatened Dr. Suaby. + +But Rolfe and Sir Charles, who loved Suaby as he deserved, had provided +against that; they had not let the doctor into their secret. He +therefore said, with perfect truth, that he had no hand in the matter, +and that Sir Charles, being bound upon his honor not to escape from +Bellevue, would be in the asylum still if Mr. Bassett had not taken him +out, and invoked brute force, in the shape of Burdoch. “Well, sir,” + said he, “it seems they have shown you two can play at that game.” And +so bade him good afternoon very civilly. + +Bassett went home sickened. He remained sullen and torpid for a day or +two; then he wrote to Burdoch to send to London and try and recapture +Sir Charles. + +But next day he revoked his instructions, for he got a letter from the +Commissioners of Lunacy, announcing the authoritative discharge of Sir +Charles, on the strong representation of Dr. Suaby and other competent +persons. + +That settled the matter, and the poor cousin had kept the rich cousin +three months at his own expense, with no solid advantage, but the +prospect of a lawsuit. + +Sharpe, spurred by Rolfe, gave him no breathing time. With the utmost +expedition the Declaration in Bassett _v._ Bassett followed the writ. + +It was short, simple, and in three counts. + +“For violently seizing and confining the plaintiff in a certain place, +on a false pretense that he was insane. + +“For detaining him in spite of evidence that he was not insane. + +“For endeavoring to remove him to another place, with a certain +sinister motive there specified. + +“By which several acts the plaintiff had suffered in his health and his +worldly affairs, and had endured great agony of mind.” + +And the plaintiff claimed damages, ten thousand pounds. + +Bassett sent over for his friend Wheeler, and showed him the new +document with no little consternation. + +But their discussion of it was speedily interrupted by the clashing of +triumphant bells and distant shouting. + +They ran out to see what it was. Bassett, half suspecting, hung back; +but Mary Gosport's keen eye detected him, and she held up the heir to +him, with hate and triumph blazing in her face. + +He crept into his own house and sank into a chair foudroye. + +Wheeler, however, roused him to a necessary effort, and next day they +took the Declaration to counsel, to settle their defense in due form. + +“What is this?” said the learned gentleman. “Three counts! Why, I +advised you to discharge him at once.” + +“Yes,” said Wheeler, “and excellent advice it was. But my client--” + +“Preferred to go his own road. And now I am to cure the error I did +what I could to prevent.” + +“I dare say, sir, it is not the first time in your experience.” + +“Not by a great many. Clients, in general, have a great contempt for +the notion that prevention is better than cure.” + +“He can't hurt me,” said Bassett, impatiently. “He was separately +examined by two doctors, and all the provisions of the statute exactly +complied with.” + +“But that is no defense to this plaint. The statute forbids you to +imprison an insane person without certain precautions; but it does not +give you a right, under any circumstances, to imprison a sane man. That +was decided in Butcher _v. _Butcher. The defense you rely on was +pleaded as a second plea, and the plaintiff demurred to it directly. +The question was argued before the full court, and the judges, led by +the first lawyer of the age, decided unanimously that the provisions of +the statute did not affect sane Englishmen and their rights under the +common law. They ordered the plea to be struck off the record, and the +case was reduced to a simple issue of sane or insane. Butcher _v._ +Butcher governs all these cases. Can you prove him insane? If not, you +had better compound on any terms. In Butcher's case the jury gave 3,000 +pounds, and the plaintiff was a man of very inferior position to Sir +Charles Bassett. Besides, the defendant, Butcher, had not persisted +against evidence, as you have. They will award 5,000 pounds at least in +this case.” + +He took down a volume of reports, and showed them the case he had +cited; and, on reading the unanimous decision of the judges, and the +learning by which they were supported, Wheeler said at once: “Mr. +Bassett, we might as well try to knock down St. Paul's with our heads +as to go against this decision.” + +They then settled to put in a single plea, that Sir Charles was insane +at the time of his capture. + +This done, to gain time, Wheeler called on Sharpe, and, after several +conferences, got the case compounded by an apology, a solemn +retractation in writing, and the payment of four thousand pounds; his +counsel assured him his client was very lucky to get off so cheap. + +Bassett paid the money, with the assistance of his wife's father: but +it was a sickener; it broke his spirit, and even injured his health for +some time. + +Sir Charles improved the village with the money, and gave a copy-hold +tenement to each of the men Bassett had got imprisoned. So they and +their sons and their grandsons lived rent free--no, now I think of it, +they had to pay four pence a year to the Lord of the Manor. + + + +Defeated at every point, and at last punished severely, Richard Bassett +fell into a deep dejection and solitary brooding of a sort very +dangerous to the reason. He would not go out-of-doors to give his +enemies a triumph. He used to sit by the fire and mutter, “Blow upon +blow, blow upon blow. My poor boy will never be lord of Huntercombe +now!” and so on. + +Wheeler pitied him, but could not rouse him. At last a person for whose +narrow attainments and simplicity he had a profound, though, to do him +justice, a civil contempt, ventured to his rescue. Mrs. Bassett went +crying to her father, and told him she feared the worst if Richard's +mind could not be diverted from the Huntercombe estate and his hatred +of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, which had been the great misfortune of +her life and of his own, but nothing would ever eradicate it. Richard +had great abilities; was a linguist, a wonderful accountant; could her +dear father find him some profitable employment to divert his thoughts? + +“What! all in a moment?” said the old man. “Then I shall have to _buy_ +it; and if I go on like this I shall not have much to leave you.” + +Having delivered this objection, he went up to London, and, having many +friends in the City, and laying himself open to proposals, he got scent +at last of a new insurance company that proposed also to deal in +reversions, especially to entailed estates. By prompt purchase of +shares in Bassett's name, and introducing Bassett himself, who, by +special study, had a vast acquaintance with entailed estates, and a +genius for arithmetical calculation, he managed somehow to get him into +the direction, with a stipend, and a commission on all business he +might introduce to the office. + +Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time between London and +the country. + +Wheeler worked with him on a share of commission, and they made some +money between them. + +After the bitter lesson he had received Bassett vowed to himself he +never would attack Sir Charles again unless he was sure of victory. For +all this he hated him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them to +the death. + +He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor said a word; but in +London he employed a private inquirer to find out where Lady Bassett +had lived at the time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman had +visited her. + +The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, comparing his +advertisements with his performance, dismissed him for a humbug. + +But the office brought him into contact with a great many medical men, +one after another. He used to say to each stranger, with an insidious +smile, “I think you once attended my cousin--Lady Bassett.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +SIR CHARLES and Lady Bassett, relieved of their cousin's active enmity, +led a quiet life, and one that no longer furnished striking incidents. + +But dramatic incident is not everything: character and feeling show +themselves in things that will not make pictures. Now it was precisely +during this reposeful period that three personages of this story +exhibited fresh traits of feeling, and also of character. + +To begin with Sir Charles Bassett. He came back from the asylum much +altered in body and mind. Stopping his cigars had improved his stomach; +working in the garden had increased his muscular power, and his cheeks +were healthy, and a little sunburned, instead of sallow. His mind was +also improved: contemplation of insane persons had set him by a natural +recoil to study self-control. He had returned a philosopher. No small +thing could irritate him now. So far his character was elevated. + +Lady Bassett was much the same as before, except a certain +restlessness. She wanted to be told every day, or twice a day, that her +husband was happy; and, although he was visibly so, yet, as he was +quiet over it, she used to be always asking him if he was happy. This +the reader must interpret as he pleases. + +Mary Gosport gave herself airs. Respectful to her master and mistress, +but not so tolerant of chaff in the kitchen as she used to be. Made an +example of one girl, who threw a doubt on her marriage. Complained to +Lady Bassett, affected to fret, and the girl was dismissed. + +She turned singer. She had always sung psalms in church, but never a +profane note in the house. Now she took to singing over her nursling; +she had a voice of prodigious power and mellowness, and, provided she +was not asked, would sing lullabies and nursery rhymes from another +county that ravished the hearer. Horsemen have been known to stop in +the road to hear her sing through an open window of Huntercombe, two +hundred yards off. + +Old Mr. Meyrick, a farmer well-to-do, fascinated by Mary Gosport's +singing, asked her to be his housekeeper when she should have done +nursing her charge. + +She laughed in his face. + +A fanatic who was staying with Sir Charles Bassett offered her three +years' education in Do, Ra, Mi, Fa, preparatory to singing at the +opera. + +Declined without thanks. + +Mr. Drake, after hovering shyly, at last found courage to reproach her +for deserting him and marrying a sailor. + +“Teach you not to shilly-shally,” said she. “Beauty won't go a-begging. +Mind you look sharper next time.” + +This dialogue, being held in the kitchen, gave the women some amusement +at the young farmer's expense. + +One day Mr. Richard Bassett, from motives of pure affection no doubt, +not curiosity, desired mightily to inspect Mr. Bassett, aged eight +months and two days. + +So, in his usual wily way, he wrote to Mrs. Gosport, asking her, for +old acquaintance' sake, to meet him in the meadow at the end of the +lawn. This meadow belonged to Sir Charles, but Richard Bassett had a +right of way through it, and could step into it by a postern, as Mary +could by an iron gate. + +He asked her to come at eleven o'clock, because at that hour he +observed she walked on the lawn with her charge. + +Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. Bassett. + +Richard was very polite; she cold, taciturn, observant. + +At last he said, “But where's the little heir?” + +She flew at him directly. “It is him you wanted, not me. Did you think +I'd bring him here--for you to kill him?” + +“Come, I say.” + +“Ay, you'd kill him if you had a chance. But you never shall. Or if you +didn't kill him, you'd cast the evil-eye on him, for you are well known +to have the evil-eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lord +of these here manors when thou is gone to hell, thou villain.” + +Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest thing he could--put +his hands in his pockets, and walked into his own premises, followed, +however, by Mary Gosport, who stormed at him till he shut his postern +in her face. + +She stood there trembling for a little while, then walked away, crying. + +But having a mind like running water, she was soon seated on a garden +chair, singing over her nursling like a mavis: she had delivered him to +Millar while she went to speak her mind to her old lover. + +As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so turned every thing +one way. To be sure, as long as the woman's glaring eyes and face +distorted by passion were before him, he interpreted her words simply; +but when he thought the matter over he said to himself, “The evil-eye! +That is all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett's secrets; and I am not +to see young master: some day I shall know the reason why.” + + + +Sir Charles Bassett now belonged to the tribe of clucking cocks quite +as much as his cousin had ever done; only Sir Charles had the good +taste to confine his clucks to his own first-floor. Here, to be sure, +he richly indemnified himself for his self-denial abroad. He sat for +hours at a time watching the boy on the ground at his knee, or in his +nurse's arms. + +And while he watched the infant with undisguised delight, Lady Bassett +would watch _him_ with a sort of furtive and timid complacency. + +Yet at times she suffered from twinges of jealousy--a new complaint +with her. + +I think I have mentioned that Sir Charles, at first, was annoyed at +seeing his son and heir nursed by a woman of low condition. Well, he +got over that feeling by degrees, and, as soon as he did get over it, +his sentiments took quite an opposite turn. A woman for whom he did +very little, in his opinion--since what, in Heaven's name, were a +servant's wages?--he saw that woman do something great for him; saw her +nourish his son and heir from her own veins; the child had no other +nurture; yet the father saw him bloom and thrive, and grow +surprisingly. + +A weak observer, or a less enthusiastic parent, might have overlooked +all this; but Sir Charles had naturally an observant eye and an +analytical mind, and this had been suddenly but effectually developed +by the asylum and his correspondence with Rolfe. + +He watched the nurse, then, and her maternal acts with a curious and +grateful eye, and a certain reverence for her power. + +He observed, too, that his child reacted on the woman: she had never +sung in the house before; now she sang ravishingly--sang, in low, +mellow, yet sonorous notes, some ditties that had lulled mediaeval +barons in their cradles. + +And what had made her vocal made her beautiful at times. + +Before, she had appeared to him a handsome girl, with the hardish look +of the lower classes; but now, when she sat in a sunny window, and +lowered her black lashes on her nursling, with the mixed and delicious +smile of an exuberant nurse relieving and relieved, she was soft, +poetical, sculptorial, maternal, womanly. + +This species of contemplation, though half philosophical, half +paternal, and quite innocent, gave Lady Bassett some severe pangs. + +She hid them, however; only she bided her time, and then suggested the +propriety of weaning baby. + +But Mrs. Gosport got Sir Charles's ear, and told him what magnificent +children they reared in her village by not weaning infants till they +were eighteen months old or so. + +By this means, and by crying to Lady Bassett, and representing her +desolate condition with a husband at sea, she obtained a reprieve, +coupled, however, with a good-humored assurance from Sir Charles that +she was the greatest baby of the two. + +When the inevitable hour approached that was to dethrone her she took +to reading the papers, and one day she read of a disastrous wreck, the +_Carbrea Castle_--only seven saved out of a crew of twenty-three. She +read the details carefully, and two days afterward she received a +letter written by a shipmate of Mr. Gosport's, in a handwriting not +very unlike her own, relating the sad wreck of the _Carbrea Castle,_ +and the loss of several good sailors, James Gosport for one. + +Then the house was filled with the wailing and weeping of the bereaved +widow; and at last came consolers and raised doubts; but then somebody +remembered to have seen the loss of that very ship in the paper. The +paper was found, and the fatal truth was at once established. + +Upon this Mr. Bassett was weaned as quickly as possible, and the widow +clothed in black at Lady Bassett's expense, and everything in reason +done to pet her and console her. + +But she cried bitterly, and said she would throw herself into the sea +and follow her husband. + +Huntercombe was nowhere near the coast. + +At last, however, she relented, and concluded to remain on earth as +dry-nurse to Mr. Bassett. + +Sir Charles did not approve this: it seemed unreasonable to turn a +wet-nurse into a dry-nurse when that office was already occupied by a +person her senior and more experienced. + +Lady Bassett agreed with him, but shrugged her shoulders and said, “Two +nurses will not hurt, and I suspect it will not be for long. Mary does +not feel her husband's loss one bit.” + +“Surely you are mistaken. She howls loud enough.” + +“Too loud--much,” said Lady Bassett, dryly. + +Her perspicuity was not deceived. In a very short time Mr. Meyrick, +unable to get her for his housekeeper, offered her marriage. + +“What!” said she, “and James Gosport not dead a month?” + +“Say the word now, and take your own time,” said he. + +“Well, I might do worse,” said she. + +About six weeks after this Drake came about her, and in tender tones of +consolation suggested that it is much better for a pretty girl to marry +one who plows the land than one who plows the sea. + +“That is true,” said Mary, with a sigh; “I have found it to my sorrow.” + +After this Drake played a bit with her, and then relented, and one +evening offered her marriage, expecting her to jump eagerly at his +offer. + +“You be too late, young man,” said she, coolly; “I'm bespoke.” + +“Doan't ye say that! How can ye be bespoke? Why, t'other hain't been +dead four months yet.” + +“What o' that? This one spoke for me within a week. Why, our banns are +to be cried to-morrow; come to church and hear 'em; that will learn ye +not to shilly-shally so next time.” + +“Next time!” cried Drake, half blubbering; then, with a sudden roar, +“what, be you coming to market again, arter this?” + +“Like enough: he is a deal older than I be. 'Tis Mr. Meyrick, if ye +must know.” + +Now Mr. Meyrick was well-to-do, and so Drake was taken aback. + +“Mr. Meyrick!” said he, and turned suddenly respectful. + +But presently a view of a rich widow flitted before his eye. + +“Well,” said he, “you shan't throw it in my teeth again as I speak too +late. I ask you now, and no time lost.” + +“What! am I to stop my banns, and jilt Farmer Meyrick for _thee?”_ + +“Nay, nay. But I mean I'll marry you, if you'll marry me, as soon as +ever the breath is out of that dall'd old hunks's body.” + +“Well, well, Will Drake,” said Mary, gravely, “if I do outlive this +one--and you bain't married long afore--and if you keeps in the same +mind as you be now--and lets me know it in good time--I'll see about +it.” + +She gave a flounce that made her petticoats whisk like a mare's tail, +and off to the kitchen, where she related the dialogue with an +appropriate reflection, the company containing several of either sex. +“Dilly-Dally and Shilly-Shally, they belongs to us as women be. I hate +and despise a man as can't make up his mind in half a minnut.” + +So the widow Gosport became Mrs. Meyrick, and lived in a farmhouse not +quite a mile from the Hall. + +She used often to come to the Hall, and take a peep at her lamb: this +was the name she gave Mr. Bassett long after he had ceased to be a +child. + + + +About four years after the triumphant return to Huntercombe, Lady +Bassett conceived a sudden coldness toward the little boy, though he +was universally admired. + +She concealed this sentiment from Sir Charles, but not from the female +servants: and, from one to another, at last it came round to Sir +Charles. He disbelieved it utterly at first; but, the hint having been +given him, he paid attention, and discovered there was, at all events, +some truth in it. + +He awaited his opportunity and remonstrated: “My dear Bella, am I +mistaken, or do I really observe a falling off in your tenderness for +your child?” + +Lady Bassett looked this way and that, as if she meditated flight, but +at last she resigned herself, and said, “Yes, dear Charles; my heart is +quite cold to him.” + +“Good Heavens, Bella! But why? Is not this the same little angel that +came to our help in trouble, that comforted me even before his birth, +when my mind was morbid, to say the least?” + +“I suppose he is the same,” said she, in a tone impossible to convey by +description of mine. + +“That is a strange answer.” + +“If he is, _I_ am changed.” And this she said doggedly and unlike +herself. + +“What!” said Sir Charles, very gravely, and with a sort of awe: “can a +woman withdraw her affection from her child, her innocent child? If so, +my turn may come next.” + +“Oh, Charles! Charles!” and the tears began to well. + +“Why, who can be secure after this? What is so stable as a mother's +love? If that is not rooted too deep for gusts of caprice to blow it +away, in Heaven's name, what is?” + +No answer to that but tears. + +Sir Charles looked at her very long, attentively, and seriously, and +said not another syllable. + +But his dropping so suddenly a subject of this importance was rather +suspicious, and Lady Bassett was too shrewd not to see that. + +They watched each other. + +But with this difference: Sir Charles could not conceal his anxiety, +whereas the lady appeared quite tranquil. + +One day Sir Charles said, cheerfully, “Who do you think dines here +to-morrow, and stays all night? Dr. Suaby.” + +“By invitation, dear?” asked Lady Bassett, quietly. + +Sir Charles colored a little, and said, quietly, “Yes.” + +Lady Bassett made no remark, and it was impossible to tell by her face +whether the visit was agreeable or not. + +Some time afterward, however, she said, “Whom shall I ask to meet Dr. +Suaby?” + +“Nobody, for Heaven's sake!” + +“Will not that be dull for him?” + +“I hope not.” + +“You will have plenty to say to him, eh, darling?” + +“We never yet lacked topics. Whether or no, his is a mind I choose to +drink neat.” + +“Drink him neat?” + +“Undiluted with rural minds.” + +“Oh!” + +She uttered that monosyllable very dryly, and said no more. + +Dr. Suaby came next day, and dined with them, and Lady Bassett was +charming; but rather earlier than usual she said, “Now I am sure you +and Dr. Suaby must have many things to talk about,” and retired, +casting back an arch, and almost a cunning smile. + +The door closed on her, the smile fled, and a somber look of care and +suffering took its place. + +Sir Charles entered at once on what was next his heart, told Dr. Suaby +he was in some anxiety, and asked him if he had observed anything in +Lady Bassett. + +“Nothing new,” said Dr. Suaby; “charming as ever.” + +Then Sir Charles confided to Dr. Suaby, in terms of deep feeling and +anxiety, what I have coldly told the reader. + +Dr. Suaby looked a little grave, and took time to think before he +spoke. + +At last he delivered an opinion, of which this is the substance, though +not the exact words. + +“It is sudden and unnatural, and I cannot say it does not partake of +mental aberration. If the patient was a man I should fear the most +serious results; but here we have to take into account the patient's +sex, her nature, and her present condition. Lady Bassett has always +appeared to me a very remarkable woman. She has no mediocrity in +anything; understanding keen, perception wonderfully swift, heart large +and sensitive, nerves high strung, sensibilities acute. A person of her +sex, tuned so high as this, is always subject, more or less, to +hysteria. It is controlled by her intelligence and spirit; but she is +now, for the time being, in a physical condition that has often +deranged less sensitive women than she is. I believe this about the boy +to be a hysterical delusion, which will pass away when her next child +is born. That is to say, she will probably ignore her first-born, and +everything else, for a time; but these caprices, springing in reality +from the body rather than the mind, cannot endure forever. When she has +several grown-up children the first-born will be the favorite. It comes +to that at last, my good friend.” + +“These are the words of wisdom,” said Sir Charles; “God bless you for +them!” + +After a while he said, “Then what you advise is simply--patience?” + +“No, I don't say that. With such a large house as this, and your +resources, you might easily separate them before the delusion grows any +farther. Why risk a calamity?” + +“A calamity?” and Sir Charles began to tremble. + +“She is only cold to the child as yet. She might go farther, and fancy +she hated it. _Obsta principiis:_ that is my motto. Not that I really +think, for a moment, the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind to +control her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a chance?” + +“I will not run the shadow of a chance,” said Sir Charles, resolutely; +“let us come upstairs: my decision is taken.” + +The very next day Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, and asked if he +could come to any arrangement with her to lodge Mr. Bassett and his +nurse under her roof. “The boy wants change of air,” said he. + +Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all terms. “No,” said +she, “the child I have suckled shall never pay me for his lodging. Why +should he, sir, when I'd pay _you_ to let him come, if I wasn't afeard +of offending you?” + +Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentleman of tact, said, +“You are very good: well, then, I must remain your debtor for the +present.” + +He then took his leave, but she walked with him a few yards, just as +far as the wicket, gate that separated her little front garden from the +high-road. + +“I hope,” said she, “my lady will come and see me when my lamb is with +me; a sight of her would be good for sore eyes. She have never been +here but once, and then she did not get out of her carriage.” + +“Humph!” said Sir Charles, apologetically; “she seldom goes out now; +you understand.” + +“Oh, I've heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for her; for my lady +has been a good friend to me, sir, and if you will believe me, I often +sets here and longs for a sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and her +hair like sunshine, that I've had in my hand so often. Well, sir, I +hope it will be a girl this time, a little girl with golden hair; +that's what I wants this time. They'll be the prettiest pair in +England.” + +“With all my heart,” said Sir Charles; “girl or boy, I don't care +which; but I'd give a few thousands if it was here, and the mother +safe.” + +He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feelings of his heart to +a farmer's wife. To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boy +off all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he had done. + +She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what she had done. + +He soothed her, and said she was not to blarne at all; and she must not +blame him either. He had done it for the best. + +“After all, you are the master,” said she, submissively. + +“I am,” said he, “and men will be tyrants, you know.” + +Then she flung her arm round her tyrant's neck, and there was an end of +the discussion. + +One day he inquired for her, and heard, to his no small satisfaction, +she had driven to Mrs. Meyrick's, with a box of things for Mr. Bassett. +She stayed at the farmhouse all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he had +done the right thing. + +Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference between a nursling +and a rampageous little boy. + +Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, vigorous, active, +restless, and, unfortunately, as strong on his pins as most boys of +six. It took two women to look after him, and smart ones too, so +swiftly did he dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. +Meyrick simplified matters in some degree by locking the large gate, +and even the small wicket, and ordering all the farm people and +milkmaids to keep an eye on him, and bring him straight to her if he +should stray, for he seemed to hate in-doors. Never was such a boy. + +Nevertheless, such as had not the care of him admired the child for his +beauty and his assurance. He seemed to regard the whole human race as +one family, of which he was the rising head. The moment he caught sight +of a human being he dashed at it and into conversation by one unbroken +movement. + +Now children in general are too apt to hide their intellectual +treasures from strangers by shyness. + +One day this ready converser was standing on the steps of the house, +when a gentleman came to the wicket gate, and looked over into the +garden. + +Young master darted to the gate directly, and getting his foot on the +lowest bar and his hands on the spikes, gave tongue. + +“Who are you? _I'm_ Mr. Bassett. I don't live here; I'm only staying. +My home is Huncom Hall. I'm to have it for myself when papa dies. I +didn't know dat till I come here. How old are you? I'm half past +four--” + +A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was clutched up by Mrs. +Meyrick, who snatched him away with a wild glance of terror and +defiance, and bore him swiftly into the house, with words ringing in +her ears that cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she could +punish. She sat down on a bench, flung young master across her knee in +a minute, and bestowed such a smacking on him as far transcended his +wildest dreams of the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm. + +The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with were these: + +“Too late! I've SEEN THE PARSON'S BRAT.” + + + +Richard Bassett mounted his horse and rode over to Wheeler, for he +could no longer wheedle the man of law over to Highmore, and I will +very briefly state why. + +1st. About three years ago an old lady, one of his few clients, left +him three thousand pounds, just reward of a very little law and a vast +deal of gossip. + +2d. The head solicitor of the place got old and wanted a partner. +Wheeler bought himself in, and thenceforth took his share of a good +business, and by his energy enlarged it, though he never could found +one for himself. + +3d. He married a wife. + +4th. She was a pretty woman, and blessed with jealousy of a just and +impartial nature: she was equally jealous of women, men, books, +business--anything that took her husband from her. + +No more sleeping out at Highmore; no more protracted potations; no more +bachelor tricks for Wheeler. He still valued his old client and +welcomed him; but the venue was changed, so to speak. + +Richard Bassett was kept waiting in the outer office; but when he did +get in he easily prevailed on Wheeler to send the next client or two to +his partner, and give him a full hearing. + +Then he opened his business. “Well,” said he, “I've seen him at last!” + +“Seen him? seen whom?” + +“The boy they have set up to rob my boy of the estate. I've seen him, +Wheeler, seen him close; and HE'S AS BLACK AS MY HAT.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +WHEELER, instead of being thunder-stricken, said quietly, “Oh, is he? +Well?” + +“Sir Charles is lighter than I am: Lady Bassett has a skin like satin, +and red hair.” + +“Red! say auburn gilt. I never saw such lovely hair.” + +“Well,” said Richard, impatiently, “then the boy has eyes like sloes, +and a brown skin, like an Italian, and black hair almost; it will be +quite.” + +“Well,” said Wheeler, “it is not so very uncommon for a dark child to +be born of fair parents, or _vice versa._ I once saw an urchin that was +like neither father nor mother, but the image of his father's +grandfather, that died eighty years before he was born. They used to +hold him up to the portrait.” + +Said Bassett, “Will you admit that it is uncommon?” + +“Not so uncommon as for a high-bred lady, living in the country, and +adored by her husband, to trifle with her marriage vow, for that is +what you are driving at.” + +“Then we have to decide between two improbabilities: will you grant me +that, Mr. Wheeler?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then suppose I can prove fact upon fact, and coincidence upon +coincidence, all tending one way! Are you so prejudiced that nothing +will convince you?” + +“No. But it will take a great deal: that lady's face is full of purity, +and she fought us like one who loved her husband.” + +_“Fronti nulla fides:_ and as for her fighting, her infidelity was the +weapon she defeated us with. Will you hear me?” + +“Yes, yes; but pray stick to facts, and not conjectures.” + +“Then don't interrupt me with childish arguments: + +_“Fact 1._--Both reputed parents fair; the boy as black as the ace of +spades. + +_“Fact 2._--A handsome young fellow was always buzzing about her +ladyship, and he was a parson, and ladies are remarkably fond of +parsons. + +_“Fact 3._--This parson was of Italian breed, dark, like the boy. + +_“Fact 4._--This dark young man left Huntercombe one week, and my lady +left it the next, and they were both in the city of Bath at one time. + +_“Fact 5._--The lady went from Bath to London. The dark young man went +from Bath to London.” + +“None of this is new to me,” said Wheeler, quietly. + +“No; but it is the rule, in estimating coincidences, that each fresh +one multiplies the value of the others. Now the boy looking so Italian +is a new coincidence, and so is what I am going to tell you--at last I +have found the medical man who attended Lady Bassett in London.” + +“Ah!” + +“Yes, sir; and I have learned _Fact 6._--Her ladyship rented a house, +but hired no servants, and engaged no nurse. She had no attendant but a +lady's maid, no servant but a sort of charwoman. + +_“Fact 7._--She dismissed this doctor unusually soon, and gave him a +very large fee. + +_“Fact 8._--She concealed her address from her husband.” + +“Oh! can you prove that?” + +“Certainly. Sir Charles came up to town, and had to hunt for her, came +to this very medical man, and asked for the address his wife had not +given him; but lo! when he got there the bird was flown. + +_“Fact 9._--Following the same system of concealment, my lady levanted +from London within ten days of her confinement. + +“Now put all these coincidences together. Don't you see that she had a +lover, and that he was about her in London and other places? Stop! +_Fact 10._--Those two were married for years, and had no child but this +equivocal one; and now four years and a half have passed, during all +which time they have had none, and the young parson has been abroad +during that period.” + +Wheeler was staggered and perplexed by this artful array of +coincidences. + +“Now advise me,” said Bassett. + +“It is not so easy. Of course if Sir Charles was to die, you could +claim the estate, and give them a great deal of pain and annoyance; but +the burden of proof would always rest on you. My advice is not to +breathe a syllable of this; but get a good detective, and push your +inquiries a little further among house agents, and the women they put +into houses; find that charwoman, and see if you can pick up anything +more.” + +“Do you know such a thing as an able detective?” + +“I know one that will work if I instruct him.” + +“Instruct him, then.” + +“I will.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +LADY BASSETT, as her time of trial drew near, became despondent. + +She spoke of the future, and tried to pierce it; and in all these +little loving speculations and anxieties there was no longer any +mention of herself. + +This meant that she feared her husband was about to lose her. I put the +fear in the very form it took in that gentle breast. + +Possessed with this dread, so natural to her situation, she set her +house in order, and left her little legacies of clothes and jewels, +without the help of a lawyer; for Sir Charles, she knew, would respect +her lightest wish. + +To him she left her all, except these trifles, and, above all--a +manuscript book. It was the history of her wedded life. Not the bare +outward history; but such a record of a sensitive woman's heart as no +male writer's pen can approach. + +It was the nature of her face and her tongue to conceal; but here, on +this paper, she laid bare her heart; here her very subtlety operated, +not to hide, but to dissect herself and her motives. + +But oh, what it cost her to pen this faithful record of her love, her +trials, her doubts, her perplexities, her agonies, her temptations, and +her crime! Often she laid down the pen, and hid her face in her hands. +Often the scalding tears ran down that scarlet face. Often she writhed +at her desk, and wrote on, sighing and moaning. Yet she persevered to +the end. It was the grave that gave her the power. “When he reads +this,” she said, “I shall be in my tomb. Men make excuses for the dead. +My Charles will forgive me when I am gone. He will know I loved him to +desperation.” + +It took her many days to write; it was quite a thick quarto; so much +may a woman feel in a year or two; and, need I say that, to the reader +of that volume, the mystery of her conduct was all made clear as +daylight; clearer far, as regards the revelation of mind and feeling, +than I, dealer in broad facts, shall ever make it, for want of a +woman's mental microscope and delicate brush. + +And when this record was finished, she wrapped it in paper, and sealed +it with many seals, and wrote on it, + +“Only for my husband's eye. From her who loved him not wisely, But too +well.” + +And she took other means that even the superscription should never be +seen of any other eye but his. It was some little comfort to her, when +the book was written. + +She never prayed to live. But she used to pray, fervently, piteously, +that her child might live, and be a comfort and joy to his father. + + + +The person employed by Wheeler discovered the house agent, and the +woman he had employed. + +But these added nothing to the evidence Bassett had collected. + +At last, however, this woman, under the influence of a promised reward, +discovered a person who was likely to know more about the matter--viz., +the woman who was in the house with Lady Bassett at the very time. + +But this woman scented gold directly: so she held mysterious language; +declined to say a word to the officer; but intimated that she knew a +great deal, and that the matter was, in truth, well worth looking into, +and she could tell some strange tales, if it was worth her while. + +This information was sent to Bassett; he replied that the woman only +wanted money for her intelligence, and he did not blame her; he would +see her next time he went to town, and felt sure she would complete his +chain of evidence. This put Richard Bassett into extravagant spirits. +He danced his little boy on his knee, and said, “I'll run this little +horse against the parson's brat; five to one, and no takers.” + +Indeed, his exultation was so loud and extravagant that it jarred on +gentle Mrs. Bassett. As for Jessie, the Scotch servant, she shook her +head, and said the master was fey. + +In the morning he started for London, still so exuberant and excited +that the Scotch woman implored her mistress not to let him go; there +would be an accident on the railway, or something. But Mrs. Bassett +knew her husband too well to interfere with his journeys. + +Before he drove off he demanded his little boy. + +“He must kiss me,” said he, “for I'm going to work for him. D'ye hear +that, Jane? This day makes him heir of Huntercombe and Bassett.” + +The nurse brought word that Master Bassett was not very well this +morning. + +“Let us look at him,” said Bassett. + +He got out of his gig, and went to the nursery. He found his little boy +had a dry cough, with a little flushing. + +“It is not much,” said he; “but I'll send the doctor over from the +town.” + +He did so, and himself proceeded up to London. + +The doctor came, and finding the boy labored in breathing, administered +a full dose of ipecacuanha. This relieved the child for the time; but +about four in the afternoon he was distressed again, and began to cough +with a peculiar grating sound. + +Then there was a cry of dismay--“The croup!” The doctor was gone for, +and a letter posted to Richard Bassett, urging him to come back +directly. + +The doctor tried everything, even mercury, but could not check the +fatal discharge; it stiffened into a still more fatal membrane. + +When Bassett returned next afternoon, in great alarm, he found the poor +child thrusting its fingers into its mouth, in a vain attempt to free +the deadly obstruction. + +A warm bath and strong emetics were now administered, and great relief +obtained. The patient even ate and drank, and asked leave to get up and +play with a new toy he had. But, as often happens in this disorder, a +severe relapse soon came, with a spasm of the glottis so violent and +prolonged that the patient at last resigned the struggle. Then pain +ceased forever; the heavenly smile came; the breath went; and nothing +was left in the little white bed but a fair piece of tinted clay, that +must return to the dust, and carry thither all the pride, the hopes, +the boasts of the stricken father, who had schemed, and planned, and +counted without Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death. + +As for the child himself, his lot was a happy one, if we could but see +what the world is really worth. He was always a bright child, that +never cried, nor complained: his first trouble was his last; one day's +pain, then bliss eternal: he never got poisoned by his father's spirit +of hate, but loved and was beloved during his little lifetime; and, +dying, he passed from his Noah's ark to an inheritance a thousand times +richer than Huntercombe, Bassett, and all his cousin's lands. + + + +The little grave was dug, the bell tolled, and a man bowed double with +grief saw his child and his ambition laid in the dust. + +Lady Bassett heard the bell tolled, and spoke but two words: “Poor +woman!” + +She might well say so. Mrs. Bassett was in the same condition as +herself, yet this heavy blow must fall on her. + +As for Richard Bassett, he sat at home, bowed down and stupid with +grief. + +Wheeler came one day to console him; but, at the sight of him, +refrained from idle words. He sat down by him for an hour in silence. +Then he got up and said, “Good-by.” + +“Thank you, old friend, for not insulting me,” said Bassett, in a +broken voice. + +Wheeler took his hand, and turned away his head, and so went away, with +a tear in his eye. + +A fortnight after this he came again, and found Bassett in the same +attitude, but not in the same leaden stupor. On the contrary, he was in +a state of tremor; he had lost, under the late blow, the sanguine mind +that used to carry him through everything. + +The doctor was upstairs, and his wife's fate trembled in the balance. + +“Stay by me,” said he, “for all my nerve is gone. I'm afraid I shall +lose her; for I have just begun to value her; and that is how God deals +with his creatures--the merciful God, as they call him.” + +Wheeler thought it rather hard God Almighty should be blamed because +Dick Bassett had taken eight years to find out his wife's merit; but he +forbore to say so. He said kindly that he would stay. + +Now while they sat in trying suspense the church-bells struck up a +merry peal. + +Bassett started violently and his eyes gave a strange glare. “That's +the other!” said he; for he had heard about Lady Bassett by this time. + +Then he turned pale. “They ring for him: then they are sure to toll for +me.” + +This foreboding was natural enough in a man so blinded by egotism as to +fancy that all creation, and the Creator himself, must take a side in +Bassett _v._ Bassett. + +Nevertheless, events did not justify that foreboding. The bells had +scarcely done ringing for the happy event at Huntercombe, when joyful +feet were heard running on the stairs; joyful voices clashed together +in the passage, and in came a female servant with joyful tidings. Mrs. +Bassett was safe, and the child in the world. “The loveliest little +girl you ever saw!” + +“A girl!” cried Richard Bassett with contemptuous amazement. Even his +melancholy forebodings had not gone that length. “And what have they +got at Huntercombe?” + +“Oh, it is a boy, sir, there.” + +“Of course.” + +The ringers heard, and sent one of their number to ask him if they +should ring. + +“What for?” asked Bassett with a nasty glittering eye; and then with +sudden fury he seized a large piece of wood from the basket to fling at +his insulter. “I'll teach you to come and mock me.” + +The ringer vanished, ducking. + +“Gently,” said Wheeler, “gently.” + +Bassett chucked the wood back into the basket, and sat down gloomily, +saying, “Then how dare he come and talk about ringing bells for a girl? +To think that I should have all this fright, and my wife all this +trouble--for a girl!” + + + +It was no time to talk of business then; but about a fortnight +afterward Wheeler said, “I took the detective off, to save you +expense.” + +“Quite right,” said Bassett, wearily. + +“I gave you the woman's address; so the matter is in your hands now, I +consider.” + +“Yes,” said Bassett, wearily; “Move no further in it.” + +“Certainly not; and, frankly, I should be glad to see you abandon it.” + +“I _have_ abandoned it. Why should I stir the mud now? I and mine are +thrown out forever; the only question is, shall a son of Sir Charles or +the parson's son inherit? I'm for the wrongful heir. Ay,” he cried, +starting up, and beating the air with his fists in sudden fury, “since +the right Bassetts are never to have it, let the wrong Bassetts be +thrown out, at all events; I'm on my back, but Sir Charles is no better +off; a bastard will succeed him, thanks to that cursed woman who +defeated _me.”_ + +This turn took Wheeler by surprise. It also gave him real pain. +“Bassett,” said he, “I pity you. What sort of a life has yours been for +the last eight years? Yet, when there's no fuel left for war and +hatred, you blow the embers. You are incurable.” + +“I am,” said Richard. “I'll hate those two with my last breath and +curse them in my last prayer.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +LADY BASSETT'S forebodings, like most of our insights into the future, +were confuted by the event. + +She became the happy mother of a flaxen-haired boy. She insisted on +nursing him herself; and the experienced persons who attended her +raised no objection. + +In connection with this she gave Sir Charles a peck, not very severe, +but sudden, and remarkable as the only one on record. + +He was contemplating her and her nursling with the deepest affection, +and happened to say, “My own Bella, what delight it gives me to see +you!” + +“Yes,” said she, “we will have only one mother this time, will we, my +darling? and it shall be Me.” Then suddenly, turning her head like a +snake, “Oh, I saw the looks you gave that woman!” + +This was the famous peck; administered in return for a look that he had +bestowed on Mary Gosport not more than five years ago. + +Sir Charles would, doubtless, have bled to death on the spot, but +either he had never been aware how he looked, or time and business had +obliterated the impression, for he was unaffectedly puzzled, and said, +“What woman do you mean, dear?” + +“No matter, darling,” said Lady Bassett, who had already repented her +dire severity: “all I say is that a nurse is a rival I could not endure +now; and another thing, I do believe those wet-nurses give their +disposition to the child: it is dreadful to think of.” + +“Well, if so, baby is safe. He will be the most amiable boy in +England.” + +“He shall be more amiable than I am--scolding my husband of husbands;” + and she leaned toward him, baby and all, for a kiss from his lips. + +We say at school “Seniores priores”--let favor go by seniority; but +where babies adorn the scene, it is “juniores priores” with that sex to +which the very young are confided. + +To this rule, as might be expected, Lady Bassett furnished no +exception; she was absorbed in baby, and trusted Mr. Bassett a good +deal to his attendant, who bore an excellent character for care and +attention. + +Now Mr. Bassett was strong on his pins and in his will, and his +nurse-maid, after all, was young; so he used to take his walks nearly +every day to Mrs. Meyrick's: she petted him enough, and spoiled him in +every way, while the nurse-maid was flirting with the farm-servants out +of sight. + +Sir Charles Bassett was devoted to the boy, and used always to have him +to his study in the morning, and to the drawing-room after dinner, when +the party was small, and that happened much oftener now than +heretofore; but at other hours he did not look after him, being a +business man, and considering him at that age to be under his mother's +care. + +One day the only guest was Mr. Rolfe; he was staying in the house for +three days, upon a condition suggested by himself--viz., that he might +enjoy his friends' society in peace and comfort, and not be set to roll +the stone of conversation up some young lady's back, and obtain +monosyllables in reply, faintly lisped amid a clatter of fourteen +knives and forks. As he would not leave his writing-table on any milder +terms, they took him on these. + +After dinner in came Mr. Bassett, erect, and a proud nurse with little +Compton, just able to hold his nurse's gown and toddle. + +Rolfe did not care for small children; he just glanced at the angelic, +fair-haired infant, but his admiring gaze rested on the elder boy. + +“Why, what is here--an Oriental prince?” + +The boy ran to him directly. “Who are you?” + +“Rolfe the writer. Who are you--the Gipsy King?” + +“No; but I am very fond of gypsies. I'm _Mister_ Bassett; and when papa +dies I shall be Sir Charles Bassett.” + +Sir Charles laughed at this with paternal fatuity, especially as the +boy's name happened to be Reginald Francis, after his grandfather. + +Rolfe smiled satirically, for these little speeches from children did +much to reconcile him to his lot. + +“Meantime,” said he, “let us feed off him; for it may be forty years +before we can dance over his grave. First let us see what is the +unwholesomest thing on the table.” + +He rose, and to the infinite delight of Mr. Bassett, and even of Master +Compton, who pointed and crowed from his mother's lap, he got up on his +chair, and put on a pair of spectacles to look. + +“Eureka!” said he; “behold that dish by Lady Bassett; those are +_marrons glaces;_ fetch them here, and let us go in for a fit of the +gout at once.” + +“Gout! what's that?” inquired Mr. Bassett. + +“Don't ask me.” + +“You don't know. + +“Not know! What, didn't I tell you I was Rolfe the writer? Writers know +everything. That is what makes them so modest.” + +Mr. Bassett was now unnaturally silent for five minutes, munching +chestnuts; this enabled his guests to converse; but as soon as he had +cleared his plate, he cut right across the conversation, with that +savage contempt for all topics but his own which characterizes +gentlemen of his age, and says he to Rolfe, “You know everything? Then +what's a parson's brat?” + +“Well, that's the one thing I don't know,” said Rolfe; “but a brat I +take to be a boy who interrupts ladies and gentlemen with nonsense when +they are talking sense.” + +“I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Rolfe,” said Lady Bassett. “That +remark was very much needed.” + +Then she called Reginald to her, and lectured him, _sotto voce,_ to the +same tune. + +“You old bachelors are rather hard,” said Sir Charles, not very well +pleased. + +“We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. After all, it is no +wonder. What a superb boy it is!--Here is nurse. I'm so sorry. Now we +shall be cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and I +shall not be expected to--(good-night, little flaxen angel; good-by, +handsome and loquacious demon; kiss and be friends)--expected to know, +all in a minute, what is a parson's brat. By-the-by, talking of +parsons, what has become of Angelo?” + +“He has been away a good many years. Consumption, I hear.” + +“He was a fine-built fellow too; was he not, Lady Bassett?” + +“I don't know; but he was beautifully strong. I think I see him now +carrying dear Charles in his arms all down the garden.” + +“Ah, you see he was raised in a university that does not do things by +halves, but trains both body and mind, as they did at Athens; for the +union of study and athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it is +only a return to antiquity.” + +Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir Charles glanced at +his, and sent them to his study. Lady Bassett had but one. She said, +_“May_ I?” to both gentlemen, and then opened it. + +“How strange!” said she. “It is from Mr. Angelo: just a line to say he +is coming home quite cured.” + +She began this composedly, but blushed afterward--blushed quite red. + +_“May_ I?” said she, and tossed it delicately half-way to Rolfe. He +handed it to Sir Charles. + +Some remarks were then made about the coincidence, and nothing further +passed worth recording at that time. + +Next day Lady Bassett, with instinctive curiosity, asked Master +Reginald how he came to put such a question as that to Mr. Rolfe. + +“Because I wanted to know.” + +“But what put such words into your head? I never heard a gentleman say +such words; and you must never say them again, Reginald.” + +“Tell me what it means, and I won't,” said he. + +“Oh,” said Lady Bassett, “since you bargain with me, sir, I must +bargain with you. Tell me first where you ever heard such words.” + +“When I was staying at nurse's. Ah, that was jolly.” + +“You like that better than being here?” + +“Yes.” + +“I am sorry for that. Well, dear, did nurse say that? Surely not?” + +“Oh, no; it was the man.” + +“What man?” + +“Why, the man that came to the gate one morning, and talked to me, and +I talked to him, and that nasty nurse ran out and caught us, and +carried me in, and gave me such a hiding, and all for nothing.” + +“A hiding! What words the poor child picks up! But I don't understand +why nurse should beat _you.”_ + +“For speaking to the man. She said he was a bad man, and she would kill +me if ever I spoke to him again.” + +“Oh, it was a bad man, and said bad words--to somebody he was +quarreling with?” + +“No, he said them to nurse because she took me away.” + +“What _did_ he say, Reginald?” asked Lady Bassett, becoming very grave +and thoughtful all at once. + +“He said, 'That's too late; I've seen the parson's brat.'” + +“Oh!” + +“And I've asked nurse again and again what it meant, but she won't tell +me. She only says the man is a liar, and I am not to say it again; and +so I never did say it again--for a long time; but last night, when +Rolfe the writer said he knew everything, it struck my head--what is +the matter, mamma?” + +“Nothing; nothing.” + +“You look so white. Are you ill, mamma?” and he went to put his arms +round her, which was a mighty rare thing with him. + +She trembled a good deal, and did not either embrace him or repel him. +She only trembled. + +After some time she recovered herself enough to say, in a voice and +with a manner that impressed itself at once on this sharp boy: +“Reginald, your nurse was quite right. Understand this: the man was +your enemy--and mine; the words he said you must not say again. It +would be like taking up dirt and flinging some on your own face and +some on mine.” + +“I won't do that,” said the boy, firmly. “Are you afraid of the man +that you look so white?” + +“A man with a woman's tongue--who can help fearing?” + +“Don't you be afraid; as soon as I'm big enough, I'll kill him.” + +Lady Bassett looked with surprise at the child, he uttered this resolve +with such a steady resolution. + +She drew him to her, and kissed him on the forehead. + +“No, Reginald,” said she; “we must not shed blood; it is as wicked to +kill our enemies as to kill any one else. But never speak to him, never +even listen to him; if he tries to speak to you, run away from him, and +don't let him--he is our enemy.” + +That same day she went to Mrs. Meyrick, to examine her. But she found +the boy had told her all there was to tell. + +Mrs. Meyrick, whose affection for her was not diminished, was downright +vexed. “Dear me!” said she; “I did think I had kept that from vexing of +you. To think of the dear child hiding it for nigh two years, and then +to blurt it out like that! Nobody heard him I hope?” + +“Others heard; but--” + +“Didn't heed; the Lord be praised for that.” + +“Mary,” said Lady Bassett, solemnly, “I am not equal to another battle +with Mr. Richard Bassett; and such a battle! Better tell all, and die.” + +“Don't think of it,” said Mary. “You're safe from Richard Bassett now. +Times are changed since he came spying to my gate. His own boy is gone. +You have got two. He'll lie still if you do. But if you tell your tale, +he must hear on't, and he'll tell his. For God's sake, my lady, keep +close. It is the curse of women that they can't just hold their +tongues, and see how things turn. And is this a time to spill good +liquor? Look at Sir Charles! why, he is another man; he have got flesh +on his bones now, and color into his cheeks, and 'twas you and I made a +man of him. It is my belief you'd never have had this other little +angel but for us having sense and courage to see what _must_ be done. +Knock down our own work, and send him wild again, and give that Richard +Bassett a handle? You'll never be so mad.” + +Lady Bassett replied. The other answered; and so powerfully that Lady +Bassett yielded, and went home sick at heart, but helpless, and in a +sea of doubt. + +Mr. Angelo did not call. Sir Charles asked Lady Bassett if he had +called on her. + +She said “No.” + +“That is odd,” said Sir Charles. “Perhaps he thinks we ought to welcome +him home. Write and ask him to dinner.” + +“Yes, dear. Or you can write.” + +“Very well, I will. No, I will call.” + +Sir Charles called, and welcomed him home, and asked him to dinner. +Angelo received him rather stiffly at first, but accepted his +invitation. + +He came, looking a good deal older and graver, but almost as handsome +as ever; only somewhat changed in mind. He had become a zealous +clergyman, and his soul appeared to be in his work. He was distant and +very respectful to Lady Bassett; I might say obsequious. Seemed almost +afraid of her at first. + +That wore off in a few months; but he was never quite so much at his +ease with her as he had been before he left some years ago. + + + +And so did time roll on. + +Every morning and every night Lady Bassett used to look wistfully at +Sir Charles, and say-- + +“Are you happy, dear? Are you sure you are happy?” + +And he used always to say, and with truth, that he was the happiest man +in England, thanks to her. + +Then she used to relax the wild and wistful look with which she asked +the question, and give a sort of sigh, half content, half resignation. + +In due course another fine boy came, and filled the royal office of +baby in his turn. + +But my story does not follow him. + + + +Reginald was over ten years old, and Compton nearly six. They were as +different in character as complexion--both remarkable boys. + +Reginald, Sir Charles's favorite, was a wonderful boy for riding, +running, talking; and had a downright genius for melody; he whistled to +the admiration of the village, and latterly he practiced the fiddle in +woods and under hedges, being aided and abetted therein by a gypsy boy +whom he loved, and who, indeed, provided the instrument. + +He rode with Sir Charles, and rather liked him; his brother he never +noticed, except to tease him. Lady Bassett he admired, and almost loved +her while she was in the act of playing him undeniable melodies. But he +liked his nurse Meyrick better, on the whole; she flattered him more, +and was more uniformly subservient. + +With these two exceptions he despised the whole race of women, and +affected male society only, especially of grooms, stable-boys, and +gypsies; these last welcomed him to their tents, and almost prostrated +themselves before him, so dazzled were they by his beauty and his +color. It is believed they suspected him of having gypsy blood in his +veins. They let him into their tents, and even into some of their +secrets, and he promised them they should have it all their own way as +soon as he was Sir Reginald; he had outgrown his original theory that +he was to be Sir Charles on his father's death. + +He hated in-doors; when fixed by command to a book, would beg hard to +be allowed to take it into the sun; and at night would open his window +and poke his black head out to wash in the moonshine, as he said. + +He despised ladies and gentlemen, said they were all affected fools, +and gave imitations of all his father's guests to prove it; and so keen +was this child of nature's eye for affectation that very often his +disapproving parents were obliged to confess the imp had seen with his +fresh eye defects custom had made them overlook, or the solid good +qualities that lay beneath had overbalanced. + +Now all this may appear amusing and eccentric, and so on, to strangers; +but after the first hundred laughs or so with which paternal indulgence +dismisses the faults of childhood, Sir Charles became very grave. + +The boy was his darling and his pride. He was ambitious for him. He +earnestly desired to solve for him a problem which is as impossible as +squaring the circle, viz., how to transmit our experience to our +children. The years and the health he had wasted before he knew Bella +Bruce, these he resolved his successor should not waste. He looked +higher for this beautiful boy than for himself. He had fully resolved +to be member for the county one day; but he did not care about it for +himself; it was only to pave the way for his successor; that Sir +Reginald, after a long career in the Commons, might find his way into +the House of Peers, and so obtain dignity in exchange for antiquity; +for, to tell the truth, the ancestors of four-fifths of the British +House of Peers had been hewers of wood and drawers of water at a time +when these Bassetts had already been gentlemen of distinction for +centuries. + +All this love and this vicarious ambition were now mortified daily. +Some fathers could do wonders for a brilliant boy, and with him; they +expect him, and a dull boy appears; that is a bitter pill; but this was +worse. Reginald was a sharp boy; he could do anything; fasten him to a +book for twenty minutes, he would learn as much as most boys in an +hour; but there was no keeping him to it, unless you strapped him or +nailed him, for he had the will of a mule, and the suppleness of an eel +to carry out his will. And then his tastes--low as his features were +refined; he was a sort of moral dung-fork; picked up all the slang of +the stable and scattered it in the dining-room and drawing-room; and +once or twice he stole out of his comfortable room at night, and slept +in a gypsy's tent with his arm round a gypsy boy, unsullied from his +cradle by soap. + +At last Sir Charles could no longer reply to his wife at night as he +had done for this ten years past. He was obliged to confess that there +was one cloud upon his happiness. “Dear Reginald grieves me, and makes +me dread the future; for if the child is father to the man, there is a +bitter disappointment in store for us. He is like no other boy; he is +like no human creature I ever saw. At his age, and long after, I was a +fool; I was a fool till I knew you; but surely I was a gentleman. I +cannot see myself again--in my first-born.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +LADY BASSETT was paralyzed for a minute or two by this speech. At last +she replied by asking a question--rather a curious one. “Who nursed +you, Charles?” + +“What, when I was a baby? How can I tell? Yes, by-the-by, it was my +mother nursed me--so I was told.” + +“And your mother was a Le Compton. This poor boy was nursed by a +servant. Oh, she has some good qualities, and is certainly devoted to +us--to this day her face brightens at sight of me--but she is +essentially vulgar; and do you remember, Charles, I wished to wean him +early; but I was overruled, and the poor child drew his nature from +that woman for nearly eighteen months; it is a thing unheard of +nowadays.” + +“Well, but surely it is from our parents we draw our nature.” + +“No; I think it is from our nurses. If Compton or Alec ever turn out +like Reginald, blame nobody but their nurse, and that is Me.” + +Sir Charles smiled faintly at this piece of feminine logic, and asked +her what he should do. + +She said she was quite unable to advise. Mr. Rolfe was coming to see +them soon; perhaps he might be able to suggest something. + +Sir Charles said he would consult him; but he was clear on one +thing--the boy must be sent from Huntercombe, and so separated from all +his present acquaintances. + +Mr. Rolfe came, and the distressed father opened his heart to him in +strict confidence respecting Reginald. + +Rolfe listened and sympathized, and knit his brow, and asked time to +consider what he had heard, and also to study the boy for himself. + +He angled for him next day accordingly. A little table was taken out on +the lawn, and presently Mr. Rolfe issued forth in a uniform suit of +dark blue flannel and a sombrero hat, and set to work writing a novel +in the sun. + +Reginald in due course descried this figure, and it smacked so of that +Bohemia to which his own soul belonged that he was attracted thereby, +but made his approaches stealthily, like a little cat. + +Presently a fiddle went off behind a tree, so close that the novelist +leaped out of his seat with an eldrich screech; for he had long ago +forgotten all about Mr. Reginald, and, when he got heated in this kind +of composition, any sudden sound seemed to his tense nerves and boiling +brain about ten times as loud as it really was. + +Having relieved himself with a yell, he sat down with the mien of a +martyr expecting tortures; but he was most agreeably disappointed; the +little monster played an English melody, and played it in tune. This +done, he whistled a quick tune, and played a slow second to it in +perfect harmony; this done, he whistled the second part and played the +quick treble--a very simple feat, but still ingenious for a boy, and +new to his hearer. + +“Bravo! bravo!” cried Rolfe, with all his heart, + +Mr. Reginald emerged, radiant with vanity. “You are like me, Mr. +Writer,” said he; “you don't like to be cooped up in-doors.” + +“I wish I could play the fiddle like you, my fine fellow.” + +“Ah, you can't do that all in a minute; see the time I have been at +it.” + +“Ah, to be sure, I forgot your antiquity.” + +“And it isn't the time only; it's giving your mind to it, old chap.” + +“What, you don't give your mind to your books, then, as you do to your +fiddle, _young gentleman?”_ + +“Not such a flat. Why, lookee here, governor, if you go and give your +mind to a thing you don't like, it's always time wasted, because some +other chap, that does like it, will beat you, and what's the use +working for to be beat?” + +“'For' is redundant,” objected Rolfe. + +“But if you stick hard to the things you like, you do 'em downright +well. But old people are such fools, they always drive you the wrong +way. They make the gals play music six hours a day, and you might as +well set the hen bullfinches to pipe. Look at the gals as come here, +how they rattle up and down the piano, and can't make it sing a morsel. +Why, they _couldn't_ rattle like that, if they'd music in their skins, +d--n 'em; and they drive me to those stupid books, because I'm all for +music and moonshine. Can you keep a secret?” + +“As the tomb.” + +“Well, then, I can do plenty of things well, besides fiddling; I can +set a wire with any poacher in the parish. I have caught plenty of our +old man's hares in my time; and it takes a workman to set a wire as it +should be. Show me a wire, and I'll tell you whether it was Hudson, or +Whitbeck, or Squinting Jack, or who it was that set it. I know all +their work that walks by moonlight hereabouts.” + +“This is criticism; a science; I prefer art; play me another tune, my +bold Bohemian.” + +“Ah, I thought I should catch ye with my fiddle. You're not such a muff +as the others, old 'un, not by a long chalk. Hang me if I won't give ye +'Ireland's music,' and I've sworn never to waste that on a fool.” + +He played the old Irish air so simply and tunably that Rolfe leaned +back in his chair, with half closed eyes, in soft voluptuous ecstasy. + +The youngster watched him with his coal-black eye. + +“I like you,” said he, “better than I thought I should, a precious +sight.” + +“Highly flattered.” + +“Come with me, and hear my nurse sing it.” + +“What, and leave my novel?” + +“Oh, bother your novel.” + +“And so I will. That will be tit for tat; it has bothered me. Lead on, +Bohemian bold.” + +The boy took him, over hedge and ditch, the short-cut to Meyrick's +farm; and caught Mrs. Meyrick, and said she must sing “Ireland's music” + to Rolfe the writer. + +Mrs. Meyrick apologized for her dress, and affected shyness about +singing: Mr. Reginald stared at first, then let her know that, if she +was going to be affected like the girls that came to the Hall, he +should hate her, as he did them, and this he confirmed with a naughty +word. + +Thus threatened, she came to book, and sang Ireland's melody in a low, +rich, sonorous voice; Reginald played a second; the harmony was so +perfect and strong that certain glass candelabra on the mantel-piece +rang loudly, and the drops vibrated. Then he made her sing the second, +and he took the treble with his violin; and he wound up by throwing in +a third part himself, a sort of countertenor, his own voice being much +higher than the woman's. + +The tears stood in Rolfe's eyes. “Well,” said he, “you have got the +soul of music, you two. I could listen to you 'From morn till noon, +from noon till dewy eve.'” + +As they returned to Huntercombe, this mercurial youth went off at a +tangent, and Rolfe saw him no more. + +He wrote in peace, and walked about between the heats. + +Just before dinner-time the screams of women were heard hard by, and +the writer hurried to the place in time to see Mr. Basset hanging by +the shoulder from the branch of a tree, about twenty feet from the +ground. + +Rolfe hallooed, as he ran, to the women, to fetch blankets to catch +him, and got under the tree, determined to try and catch him in his +arms, if necessary; but he encouraged the boy to hold on. + +“All right, governor,” said the boy, in a quavering voice. + +It was very near the kitchen; maids and men poured out with blankets; +eight people held one, under Rolfe's direction, and down came Mr. +Bassett in a semicircle, and bounded up again off the blanket, like an +India-rubber ball. + +His quick mind recovered courage the moment he touched wool. + +“Crikey! that's jolly,” said he; “give me another toss or two.” + +“Oh no! no!” said a good-natured maid. “Take an' put him to bed right +off, poor dear.” + +“Hold your tongue, ye bitch,” said young hopeful; “if ye don't toss me, +I'll turn ye all off, as soon as ever the old un kicks the bucket.” + +Thus menaced, they thought it prudent to toss him; but, at the third +toss, he yelled out, “Oh! oh! oh! I'm all wet; it's blood! I'm dead!” + +Then they examined, and found his arm was severely lacerated by an old +nail that had been driven into the tree, and it had torn the flesh in +his fall: he was covered with blood, the sight of which quenched his +manly spirit, and he began to howl. + +“Old linen rag, warm water, and a bottle of champagne,” shouted Rolfe: +the servants flew. + +Rolfe dressed and bandaged the wound for him, and then he felt faint: +the champagne soon set that right; and then he wanted to get drunk, +alleging, as a reason, that he had not been drunk for this two months. + +Sir Charles was told of the accident, and was distressed by it, and +also by the cause. + +“Rolfe,” said he, sorrowfully, “there is a ring-dove's nest on that +tree: she and hers have built there in peace and safety for a hundred +years, and cooed about the place. My unhappy boy was climbing the tree +to take the young, after solemnly promising me he never would: that is +the bitter truth. What shall I do with the young barbarian?” + +He sighed, and Lady Bassett echoed the sigh. + +Said Rolfe, “The young barbarian, as you call him, has disarmed me: he +plays the fiddle like a civilized angel.” + +“Oh, Mr. Rolfe!” + +“What, you his mother, and not found that out yet? Oh yes, he has a +heaven-born genius for music.” + +Rolfe then related the musical feats of the urchin. + +Sir Charles begged to observe that this talent would go a very little +way toward fitting him to succeed his father and keep up the credit of +an ancient family. + +“Dear Charles, Mr. Rolfe knows that; but it is like him to make the +best of things, to encourage us. But what do you think of him, on the +whole, Mr. Rolfe? has Sir Charles more to hope or to fear?” + +“Give me another day or two to study him,” said Rolfe. + +That night there was a loud alarm. Mr. Bassett was running about the +veranda in his night-dress. + +They caught him and got him to bed, and Rolfe said it was fever; and, +with the assistance of Sir Charles and a footman, laid him between two +towels steeped in tepid water, then drew blankets tight over him, and, +in short, packed him. + +“Ah!” said he, complacently; “I say, give me a drink of moonshine, old +chap.” + +“I'll give you a bucketful,” said Rolfe; then, with the servant's help, +took his little bed and put it close to the window; the moonlight +streamed in on the boy's face, his great black eyes glittered in it. He +was diabolically beautiful. “Kiss me, moonshine,” said he; “I like to +wash in you.” + +Next day he was, apparently, quite well, and certainly ripe for fresh +mischief. Rolfe studied him, and, the evening before he went, gave Sir +Charles and Lady Bassett his opinion, but not with his usual alacrity; +a weight seemed to hang on him, and, more than once, his voice +trembled. + +“I shall tell you,” said he, “what I see--what I foresee--and then, +with great diffidence, what I advise. + +“I see--what naturalists call a reversion in race, a boy who resembles +in color and features neither of his parents, and, indeed, bears little +resemblance to any of the races that have inhabited England since +history was written. He suggests rather some Oriental type.” + +Sir Charles turned round in his chair, with a sigh, and said, “We are +to have a romance, it seems.” + +Lady Bassett stared with all her eyes, and began to change color. + +The theorist continued, with perfect composure, “I don't undertake to +account for it with any precision. How can I? Perhaps there is Moorish +blood in your family, and here it has revived; you look incredulous, +but there are plenty of examples, ay, and stronger than this: every +child that is born resembles some progenitor; how then do you account +for Julia Pastrana, a young lady who dined with me last week, and sang +me 'Ah perdona,' rather feebly, in the evening? Bust and figure like +any other lady, hand exquisite, arms neatly turned, but with long, +silky hair from the elbow to the wrist. Face, ugh! forehead made of +black leather, eyes all pupil, nose an excrescence, chin pure monkey, +face all covered with hair; briefly, a type extinct ten thousand years +before Adam, yet it could revive at this time of day. Compared with La +Pastrana, and many much weaker examples of antiquity revived, that I +have seen, your Mauritanian son is no great marvel, after all.” + +“This is a _little_ too far-fetched,” said Sir Charles, satirically; +“Bella's father was a very dark man, and it is a tradition in our +family that all the Bassetts were as black as ink till they married +with you Rolfes, in the year 1684.” + +“Oho!” said Rolfe, “is it so? See how discussion brings out things.” + +“And then,” said Lady Bassett, “Charles dear, tell Mr. Rolfe what I +think.” + +“Ay, do,” said Rolfe; “that will be a new form of circumlocution.” + +Sir Charles complied, with a smile. “Lady Bassett's theory is, that +children derive their nature quite as much from their wet-nurses as +from their parents, and she thinks the faults we deplore in Reginald +are to be traced to his nurse; by-the-by, she is a dark woman too.” + +“Well,” said Rolfe, “there's a good deal of truth in that, as far as +regards the disposition. But I never heard color so accounted for; yet +why not? It has been proved that the very bones of young animals can be +colored pink, by feeding them on milk so colored.” + +“There!” said Lady Bassett. + +“But no nurse could give your son a color which is not her own. I have +seen the woman; she is only a dark Englishwoman. Her arms were +embrowned by exposure, but her forehead was not brown. Mr. Reginald is +quite another thing. The skin of his body, the white of his eye, the +pupil, all look like a reversion to some Oriental type; and, mark the +coincidence, he has mental peculiarities that point toward the East.” + +Sir Charles lost patience. “On the contrary,” said he, “he talks and +feels just like an English snob, and makes me miserable.” + +“Oh, as to that, he has picked up vulgar phrases at that farm, and in +your stables; but he never picked up his musical genius in stables and +farms, far less his poetry.” + +“What poetry?” + +“What poetry? Why, did not you hear him? Was it not poetical of a +wounded, fevered boy to beg to be laid by the window, and to say 'Let +me drink the moonshine?' Take down your Homer, and read a thousand +lines haphazard, and see whether you stumble over a thought more +poetical than that. But criticism does not exist: whatever the dead +said was good; whatever the living say is little; as if the dead were a +race apart, and had never been the living, and the living would never +be the dead.” + +Heaven knows where he was running to now, but Sir Charles stopped him +by conceding that point. “Well you are right: poor child, it was +poetical,” and the father's pride predominated, for a moment, over +every other sentiment. + +“Yes; but where did it come from? That looks to me a typical idea; I +mean an idea derived, not from his luxurious parents, dwellers in +curtained mansions, but from some out-door and remote ancestor; perhaps +from the Oriental tribe that first colonized Britain; they worshiped +the sun and the moon, no doubt; or perhaps, after all, it only came +from some wandering tribe that passed their lives between the two +lights of heaven, and never set foot in a human dwelling.” + +“This,” said Sir Charles, “is a flattering speculation, but so wild and +romantic that I fear it will lead us to no practical result. I thought +you undertook to advise me. What advice can you build on these cobwebs +of your busy brain?” + +“Excuse me, my practical friend,” said Rolfe. “I opened my discourse in +three heads. What I see--what I foresee--and what, with diffidence, I +advise. Pray don't disturb my methods, or I am done for; never disturb +an artist's form. I have told you what I see. What I foresee is this: +you will have to cut off the entail with Reginald's consent, when he is +of age, and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cutting off +entails runs in families, like everything else; your grandfather did +it, and so will you. You should put by a few thousands every year, that +you may be able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental or +your Saxon son.” + +“Never!” shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken voice, “He is my +first-born, and my idol; his coming into the world rescued me out of a +morbid condition: he healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and put +his younger brother in his place--never!” + +Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the subject, which, indeed, +could be carried no farther without serious offense. + +“And now for my advice. The question is, how to educate this strange +boy. One thing is clear; it is no use trying the humdrum plan any +longer; it has been tried, and failed. I should adapt his education to +his nature. Education is made as stiff and unyielding as a board; but +it need not be. I should abolish that spectacled tutor of yours at +once, and get a tutor, young, enterprising, manly, and supple, who +would obey orders; and the order should be to observe the boy's nature, +and teach accordingly. Why need men teach in a chair, and boys learn in +a chair? The Athenians studied not in chairs. The Peripatetics, as +their name imports, hunted knowledge afoot; those who sought truth in +the groves of Academus were not seated at that work. Then let the tutor +walk with him, and talk with him by sunlight and moonlight, relating +old history, and commenting on each new thing that is done, or word +spoken, and improve every occasion. Why, I myself would give a guinea a +day to walk with William White about the kindly aspects and wooded +slopes of Selborne, or with Karr about his garden. Cut Latin and Greek +clean out of the scheme. They are mere cancers to those who can never +excel in them. Teach him not dead languages, but living facts. Have him +in your justice-room for half an hour a day, and give him your own +comments on what he has heard there. Let his tutor take him to all +Quarter Sessions and Assizes, and stick to him like diaculum, +especially out-of-doors; order him never to be admitted to the +stable-yard; dismiss every biped there that lets him come. Don't let +him visit his nurse so often, and never without his tutor; it was she +who taught him to look forward to your decease; that is just like these +common women. Such a tutor as I have described will deserve 500 pounds +a year. Give it him; and dismiss him if he plays humdrum and doesn't +earn it. Dismiss half a dozen, if necessary, till you get a fellow with +a grain or two of genius for tuition. When the boy is seventeen, what +with his Oriental precocity, and this system of education, he will know +the world as well as a Saxon boy of twenty-one, and that is not saying +much. Then, if his nature is still as wild, get him a large tract in +Australia; cattle to breed, kangaroos to shoot, swift horses to thread +the bush and gallop mighty tracts; he will not shirk business, if it +avoids the repulsive form of sitting down in-doors, and offers itself +in combination with riding, hunting, galloping, cracking of rifles, and +of colonial whips as loud as rifles, and drinking sunshine and +moonshine in that mellow clime, beneath the Southern Cross and the +spangled firmament of stars unknown to us.” + +His own eyes sparkled like hot coals at this Bohemian picture. + +Then he sighed and returned to civilization. “But,” said he, “be ready +with eighty thousand pounds for him, that he may enjoy his own way and +join you in barring the entail. I forgot, I must say no more on that +subject; I see it is as offensive--as it is inevitable. Cassandra has +spoken wisely, and, I see, in vain. God bless you both--good-night.” + +And he rolled out of the room with a certain clumsy importance. + +Sir Charles treated all this advice with a polite forbearance while he +was in the room, but on his departure delivered a sage reflection. + +“Strange,” said he, “that a man so valuable in any great emergency +should be so extravagant and eccentric in the ordinary affairs of life. +I might as well drive to Bellevue House and consult the first gentleman +I met there.” + +Lady Bassett did not reply immediately, and Sir Charles observed that +her face was very red and her hands trembled. + +“Why, Bella,” said he, “has all that rhodomontade upset you?” + +Lady Bassett looked frightened at his noticing her agitation, and said +that Mr. Rolfe always overpowered her. “He is so large, and so +confident, and throws such new light on things.” + +“New light! Wild eccentricity always does that; but it is the light of +Jack-o'-lantern. On a great question, so near my heart as this, give me +the steady light of common sense, not the wayward coruscations of a +fiery imagination. Bella dear, I shall send the boy to a good school, +and so cut off at one blow all the low associations that have caused +the mischief.” + +“You know what is best, dear,” said Lady Bassett; “you are wiser than +any of us.” + +In the morning she got hold of Mr. Rolfe, and asked him if he could put +her in the way of getting more than three per cent for her money +_without risk._ + +“Only one,” said.Rolfe. “London freeholds in rising situations let to +substantial tenants. I can get you five per cent that way, if you are +always ready to buy. The thing does not offer every day.” + +“I have twenty thousand pounds to dispose of so,” said Lady Bassett. + +“Very well,” said Rolfe. “I'll look out for you, but Oldfield must +examine titles and do the actual business. The best of that investment +is, it is always improving; no ups and downs. Come,” thought he, +“Cassandra has not spoken quite in vain.” + +Sir Charles acted on his judgment, and in due course sent Mr. Bassett +to a school at some distance, kept by a clergyman, who had the credit +in that county of exercising sharp supervision and strict discipline. + +Sir Charles made no secret of the boy's eccentricities. Mr. Beecher +said he had one or two steady boys who assisted him in such cases. + +Sir Charles thought that a very good idea; it was like putting a wild +colt into the break with a steady horse. + +He missed the boy sadly at first, but comforted himself with the +conviction that he had parted with him for his good: that consoled him +somewhat. + + + +The younger children of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were educated +entirely by their mother, and taught as none but a loving lady can +teach. + +Compton, with whom we have to do, never knew the thorns with which the +path of letters is apt to be strewn. A mistress of the great art of +pleasing made knowledge from the first a primrose path to him. +Sparkling all over with intelligence, she impregnated her boy with it. +She made herself his favorite companion; she would not keep her +distance. She stole and coaxed knowledge and goodness into his heart +and mind with rare and loving cunning. + +She taught him English and French and Latin on the Hamiltonian plan, +and stored his young mind with history and biography, and read to him, +and conversed with him on everything as they read it. + +She taught him to speak the truth, and to be honorable and just. + +She taught him to be polite, and even formal, rather than free-and-easy +and rude. She taught him to be a man. He must not be what brave boys +called a molly-coddle: like most womanly women, she had a veneration +for man, and she gave him her own high idea of the manly character. + +Natural ability, and habitual contact with a mind so attractive and so +rich, gave this intelligent boy many good ideas beyond his age. + +When he was six years old, Lady Bassett made him pass his word of honor +that he would never go into the stable-yard; and even then he was far +enough advanced to keep his word religiously. + +In return for this she let him taste some sweets of liberty, and was +not always after him. She was profound enough to see that without +liberty a noble character cannot be formed; and she husbanded the curb. + + + +One day he represented to her that, in the meadow next their lawn, were +great stripes of yellow, which were possibly cowslips; of course they +might be only buttercups, but he hoped better things of them; he +further reported that there was an iron gate between him and this +paradise: he could get over it if not objectionable; but he thought it +safest to ask her what she thought of the matter; was that iron gate +intended to keep little boys from the cowslips, because, if so, it was +a misfortune to which he must resign himself. Still, it _was_ a +misfortune. All this, of course, in the simple language of boyhood. + +Then Lady Bassett smiled, and said, “Suppose I were to lend you a key +of that iron gate?” + +“Oh, mamma!” + +“I have a great mind to.” + +“Then you will, you will.” + +“Does that follow?” + +“Yes: whenever you say you think you'll do something kind, or you have +a great mind to do it, you know you always do it; and that is one thing +I do like you for, mamma--you are better than your word.” + +“Better than my word? Where does the child learn these things?” + +“La, mamma, papa says that often.” + +“Oh, that accounts for it. I like the phrase very much. I wish I could +think I deserved it. At any rate, I will be as good as my word for +once; you shall have a key of the gate.” + +The boy clapped his hands with delight. The key was sent for, and, +meantime, she told him one reason why she had trusted him with it was +because he had been as good as his word about the stable. + +The key was brought, and she held it up half playfully, and said, +“There, sir, I deliver you this upon conditions: you must only use it +when the weather is quite dry, because the grass in the meadow is +longer, and will be wet. Do you promise?” + +“Yes, mamma.” + +“And you must always lock the gate when you come back, and bring the +key to one place--let me see--the drawer in the hall table, the one +with marble on it; for you know a place for every thing is our rule. On +these conditions, I hereby deliver you this magic key, with the right +of egress and ingress.” + +“Egress and ingress?” + +“Egress and ingress.” + +“Is that foreign for cowslips, mamma--and oxlips?” + +“Ha! ha! the child's head is full of cowslips. There is the dictionary; +look out Egress, and afterward look out Ingress.” + +When he had added these two words to his little vocabulary, his mother +asked him if he would be good enough to tell her why he did not care +much about all the beautiful flowers in the garden, and was so excited +about cowslips, which appeared to her a flower of no great beauty, and +the smell rather sickly, begging his pardon. + +This question posed him dreadfully: he looked at her in a sort of comic +distress, and then sat gravely down all in a heap, about a yard off, to +think. + +Finally he turned to her with a wry face, and said, “Why _do_ I, +mamma?” + +She smiled deliciously. “No, no, sir,” said she. “How can I get inside +your little head and tell what is there? There must be a reason, I +suppose; and you know you and I are never satisfied till we get at the +reason of a thing. But there is no hurry, dear. I give you a week to +find it out. Now, run and open the gate--stay, are there any cows in +that field?” + +“Sometimes, mamma; but they have no horns, you know.” + +“Upon your word?” + +“Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, myself.” + +“Then run away, darling. But you must come and hunt me up, and tell me +how you enjoyed yourself, because that makes me happy, you know.” + +This is mawkish; but it will serve to show on what terms the woman and +boy were. + +On second thoughts, I recall that apology, and defy creation. “THE +MAWKISH” is a branch of literature, a great and popular one, and I have +neglected it savagely. + +Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world was all before him +where to choose. + +He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so attracted him. Horror! +it was all buttercups and deil a cowslip. + +Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty of that +delightful flower scattered about the meadow in thinner patches; and he +gathered a double handful and dirtied his knees. + +Returning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was accosted by a +fluty voice. + +“Little boy!” + +He looked up, and saw a girl standing on the lower bar of a little +wooden gate painted white, looking over. + +_“Please_ bring me my ball,” said she, pathetically. + +Compton looked about; and saw a soft ball of many colors lying near. + +He put down his cowslips gravely, and, brought her the ball. He gave it +her with a blush, because she was a strange girl; and she blushed a +little, because he did. + +He returned to his cowslips. + +“Little boy!” said the voice, “please bring me my ball again.” + +He brought it her, with undisturbed politeness. She was giggling; he +laughed too, at that. + +“You did it on purpose that time,” said he, solemnly. + +“La! you don't think I'd be so wicked,” said she. + +Compton shook his head doubtfully, and, considering the interview at an +end turned to go, when instantly the ball knocked his hat off, and +nothing of the malefactress was visible but a black eye sparkling with +fun and mischief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of the +wall. + +This being a challenge, Compton said, “Now you come out after that, and +stand a shot, like a man.” + +The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit; the only thing +she put out was her hand, and that she drew in, with a laugh, the +moment he threw at it. + +At this juncture a voice cried, “Ruperta! what are you doing there?” + +Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, implying that he +was to run away; and she herself walked demurely toward the person who +had called her. + +It was three days before Compton saw her again, and then she beckoned +him royally to her. + +“Little boy,” said she, “talk to me.” + +Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not reply. + +“Stand on this gate, like me, and talk,” said she. + +He obeyed the first part of this mandate, and stood on the lower bar of +the little gate; so their two figures made a V, when they hung back, +and a tenpenny nail when they came forward and met, and this motion +they continued through the dialogue; and it was a pity the little +wretches could not keep still, and send for my friend the English +Titian: for, when their heads were in position, it was indeed a pretty +picture of childish and flower-like beauty and contrast; the boy fair, +blue-eyed, and with exquisite golden hair; the girl black-eyed, +black-browed, and with eyelashes of incredible length and beauty, and a +cheek brownish, but tinted, and so glowing with health and vigor that, +pricked with a needle, it seemed ready to squirt carnation right into +your eye. + +She dazzled Master Compton so that he could do nothing but look at her. + +“Well?” said she, smiling. + +“Well,” replied he, pretending her “well” was not an interrogatory, but +a concise statement, and that he had discharged the whole duty of man +by according a prompt and cheerful consent. + +“You begin,” said the lady. + +“No, you.” + +“What for?” + +“Because--I think--you are the cleverest.” + +“Good little boy! Well, then, I will. Who are you?” + +“I am Compton. Who are you, please?” + +“I am Ruperta.” + +“I never heard that name before.” + +“No more did I. I think they measured me for it: you live in the great +house there, don't you?” + +“Yes, Ruperta.” + +“Well, then, I live in the little house. It is not very little either. +It's Highmore. I saw you in church one day; is that lady with the hair +your mamma?” + +“Yes, Ruperta.” + +“She is beautiful.” + +“Isn't she?” + +“But mine is so good.” + +“Mine is very good, too, Ruperta. Wonderfully good.” + +“I like you, Compton--a little.” + +“I like you a good deal, Ruperta.” + +“La, do you? I wonder at that: you are like a cherub, and I am such a +black thing.” + +“But that is why I like you. Reginald is darker than you, and oh, so +beautiful!” + +“Hum!--he is a very bad boy.” + +“No, he is not.” + +“Don't tell stories, child; he is. I know all about him. A wicked, +vulgar, bad boy.” + +“He is not,” cried Compton, almost sniveling; but he altered his mind, +and fired up. “You are a naughty, story-telling girl, to say that.” + +“Bless _me!”_ said Ruperta, coloring high, and tossing her head +haughtily. + +“I don't like you _now,_ Ruperta,” said Compton, with all the decent +calmness of a settled conviction. + +“You don't!” screamed Ruperta. “Then go about your business directly, +and don't never come here again! Scolding _me!_ How dare you?--oh! oh! +oh!” and the little lady went off slowly, with her finger in her eye; +and Master Compton looked rather rueful, as we all do when this +charming sex has recourse to what may be called “liquid reasoning.” I +have known the most solid reasons unable to resist it. + +However, “mens conscia recti,” and, above all, the cowslips, enabled +Compton to resist, and he troubled his head no more about her that day. + +But he looked out for her the next day, and she did not come; and that +rather disappointed him. + +The next day was wet, and he did not go into the meadow, being on honor +not to do so. + +The fourth day was lovely, and he spent a long time in the meadow, in +hopes: he saw her for a moment at the gate; but she speedily retired. + +He was disappointed. + +However, he collected a good store of cowslips, and then came home. + +As he passed the door out popped Ruperta from some secret ambush, and +said, “Well?” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +“WELL,” replied Compton. + +“Are you better, dear?” + +“I'm very well, thank you,” said the boy. + +“In your mind, I mean. You were cross last time, you know.” + +Compton remembered his mother's lessons about manly behavior, and said, +in a jaunty way, “Well, I s'pose I was a little cross.” + +Now the other cunning little thing had come to apologize, if there was +no other way to recover her admirer. But, on this confession, she said, +“Oh, if you are sorry for it, I forgive you. You may come and talk.” + +Then Compton came and stood on the gate, and they held a long +conversation; and, having quarreled last time, parted now with rather +violent expressions of attachment. + +After that they made friends and laid their little hearts bare to each +other; and it soon appeared that Compton had learned more, but Ruperta +had thought more for herself, and was sorely puzzled about many things, +and of a vastly inquisitive mind. “Why,” said she, “is good thing's so +hard, and had things so nice and easy? It would be much better if good +things were nice and bad ones nasty. That is the way I'd have it, if I +could make things.” + +Mr. Compton shook his head and said many things were very hard to +understand, and even his mamma sometimes could not make out all the +things. + +“Nor mine neither; I puzzle her dreadful. I can't help that; things +shouldn't come and puzzle me, and then I shouldn't puzzle her. Shall I +tell you my puzzles? and perhaps you can answer them because you are a +boy. I can't think why it is wicked for me to dig in my little garden +on a Sunday, and it isn't wicked for Jessie to cook and Sarah to make +the beds. Can't think why mamma told papa not to be cross, and, when I +told her not to be cross, she put me in a dark cupboard all among the +dreadful mice, till I screamed so she took me out and kissed me and +gave me pie. Can't think why papa called Sally 'Something' for spilling +the ink over his papers, and when I called the gardener the very same +for robbing my flowers, all their hands and eyes went up, and they said +I was a shocking girl. Can't think why papa giggled the next moment, if +I was a shocking girl: it is all puzzle--puzzle--puzzle.” + + + +One day she said, “Can you tell me where all the bad people are buried? +for that puzzles me dreadful.” + +Compton was posed at first, but said at last he thought they were +buried in the churchyard, along with the good ones. + +“Oh, indeed!” said she, with an air of pity. “Pray, have you ever been +in the churchyard, and read the writings on the stones?” + +“No.” + +“Then I have. I have read every single word; and there are none but +good people buried _there,_ not one.” She added, rather pathetically, +“You should not answer me without thinking, as if things were easy, +instead of so hard. Well, one comfort, there are not many wicked people +hereabouts; they live in towns; so I suppose they are buried in the +garden, poor things, or put in the water with a stone.” + +Compton had no more plausible theory ready, and declined to commit +himself to Ruperta's; so that topic fell to the ground. + +One day he found her perched as usual, but with her bright little face +overclouded. + +By this time the intelligent boy was fond enough of her to notice her +face. “What's the matter, Perta?” + +“Ruperta. The matter? Puzzled again! It is very serious this time.” + +“Tell me, Ruperta.” + +“No, dear.” + +“Please.” + +The young lady fixed her eyes on him, and said, with a pretty +solemnity, “Let us play at catechism.” + +“I don't know that game.” + +“The governess asks questions, and the good little boy answers. That's +catechism. I'm the governess.” + +“Then I'm the good little boy.” + +“Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face.” + +“There--you're very pretty, Ruperta.” + +“Don't be giddy; I'm hideous; so behave, and answer all my questions. +Oh, I'm so unhappy. Answer me, is young people, or old people, +goodest?” + +“You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. Why, old people, to be +sure--much.” + +“So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. Then your papa and mine +are much betterer--will that do?--than we are?” + +“Of course they are.” + +“There he goes! Such a child for answering slap bang I never.” + +“I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, Ruperta.” + +“That's a story.” + +“Well, then, I'm as old; for Mary says we were born the same day--the +same hour--the same minute.” + +“La! we are twins.” + +She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found reason to doubt +her hasty conclusion. “No such thing,” said she: “they tell me the +bells were ringing for you being found, and then I was found--to +catechism you.” + +“There! then you see I _am_ older than you, Ruperta.” + +“Yes, dear,” said Ruperta, very gravely; “I'm younger in my body, but +older in my head.” + +This matter being settled so that neither party could complain, since +antiquity was evenly distributed, the catechizing recommenced. + +“Do you believe in 'Let dogs delight?'” + +“I don't know.” + +“What!” screamed Ruperta. “Oh, you wicked boy! Why, it comes next after +the Bible.” + +“Then I do believe it,” said Compton, who, to tell the truth, had been +merely puzzled by the verb, and was not afflicted with any doubt that +the composition referred to was a divine oracle. + +“Good boy!” said Ruperta, patronizingly. “Well, then, this is what +puzzles me; your papa and mine don't believe in 'Dogs delight.' They +have been quarreling this twelve years and more, and mean to go on, in +spite of mamma. She _is_ good. Didn't you know that your papa and mine +are great enemies?” + +“No, Ruperta. Oh, what a pity!” + +“Don't, Compton, don't: there, you have made me cry.” + +He set himself to console her. + +She consented to be consoled. + +But she said, with a sigh, “What becomes of old people being better +than young ones, now? Are you and I bears and lions? Do we scratch out +each other's eyes? It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead! +Nurse says, when I'm dead I shall understand it all. But I don't know; +I saw a dead cat once, and she didn't seem to know as much as before; +puzzle, puzzle. Compton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven?” + +“No.” + +“Then the sooner we both go there, the better.” + +“Yes, but not just now.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because of the cowslips.” + +“Here's a boy! What, would you rather be among the cowslips than the +angels? and think of the diamonds and pearls that heaven is paved +with.” + +“But _you_ mightn't be there.” + +“What! Am I a wicked girl, then--wickeder than you, that is a boy?” + +“Oh no, no, no; but see how big it is up there;” they cast their eyes +up, and, taking the blue vault for creation, were impressed with its +immensity. “I know where to find you here, but up there you might be +ever so far off me.” + +“La! so I might. Well, then, we had better keep quiet. I suppose we +shall get wiser as we get older. But Compton, I'm so sorry your papa +and mine are bears and lions. Why doesn't the clergyman scold them?” + +“Nobody dare scold my papa,” said Compton, proudly. Then, after +reflection, “Perhaps, when we are older, we may persuade them to make +friends. I think it is very stupid to quarrel; don't you?” + +“As stupid as an owl.” + +“You and I had a quarrel once, Ruperta.” + +“Yes, you misbehaved.” + +“No, no; you were cross.” + +“Story! Well, never mind: we _did_ quarrel. And you were miserable +directly.” + +“Not so very,” said Compton, tossing his head. + +“I _was,_ then,” said Ruperta, with unguarded candor. + +“So was I.” + +“Good boy! Kiss me, dear.” + +“There--and there--and there--and--” + +“That will do. I want to talk, Compton.” + +“Yes, dear.” + +“I'm not very sure, but I rather think I'm in love with you--a little, +little bit, you know.” + +“And I'm sure I'm in love with you, Ruperta.” + +“Over head an' ears?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate! If it wasn't for +that, I could run in the meadow with you; and marry you perhaps, and so +gather cowslips together for ever and ever.” + +“Let us open it.” + +“You can't.” + +“Let us try.” + +“I have. It won't be opened.” + +“Let _me_ try. Some gates want to be lifted up a little, and then they +will open. There, I told you so.” + +The gate came open. + +Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then drew back. + +“I'm afraid, Compton,” said she, “papa would be angry.” + +She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young gentleman, having a +strong sense of filial duty, omitted so to do. + +When she saw he would not persuade her, she dispensed. “Come along,” + said she, “if it is only for five minutes.” + +She took his hand, and away they scampered. He showed her the cowslips, +the violets, and all the treasures of the meadow; but it was all hurry, +and skurry, and excitement; no time to look at anything above half a +minute, for fear of being found out: and so, at last, back to the gate, +beaming with stolen pleasure, glowing and sparkling with heat and +excitement. + +The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and then, after saying she +must go for about an hour, marched demurely back to the house. + +After one or two of these hasty trips, impunity gave her a sense of +security, and, the weather getting warm, she used to sit in the meadow +with her beau and weave wreaths of cowslips, and place them in her +black hair, and for Comp-ton she made coronets of bluebells, and +adorned his golden head. + +And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle to him, and lean +her head, with all the feminine grace of a mature woman, on his +shoulder. + +Said she, “A boy's shoulder does very nice for a girl to put her nose +on.” + +One day the aspiring girl asked him what was that forest. + +“That is Bassett's wood.” + +“I will go there with you some day, when papa is out.” + +“I'm afraid that is too far for you,” said Compton. + +“Nothing is too far for me,” replied the ardent girl. “Why, how far is +it?” + +“More than half a mile.” + +“Is it very big?” + +“Immense.” + +“Belong to the queen?” + +“No, to papa.” + +“Oh!” + +And here my reader may well ask what was Lady Bassett about, or did +Compton, with all his excellent teaching, conceal all this from his +mother and his friend. + +On the contrary, he went open-mouthed to her and told her he had seen +such a pretty little girl, and gave her a brief account of their +conversation. + +Lady Bassett was startled at first, and greatly perplexed. She told him +he must on no account go to her; if he spoke to her, it must be on +papa's ground. She even made him pledge his honor to that. + +More than that she did not like to say. She thought it unnecessary and +undesirable to transmit to another generation the unhappy feud by which +she had suffered so much, and was even then suffering. Moreover, she +was as much afraid of Richard Bassett as ever. If he chose to tell his +girl not to speak to Compton, he might. She was resolved not to go out +of her way to affront him, through his daughter. Besides, that might +wound Mrs. Bassett, if it got round to her ears; and, although she had +never spoken to Mrs. Bassett, yet their eyes had met in church, and +always with a pacific expression. Indeed, Lady Bassett felt sure she +had read in that meek woman's face a regret that they were not friends, +and could not be friends, because of their husbands. Lady Bassett, +then, for these reasons, would not forbid Compton to be kind to Ruperta +in moderation. + +Whether she would have remained as neutral had she known how far these +young things were going, is quite another matter; but Compton's +narratives to her were, naturally enough, very tame compared with the +reality, and she never dreamed that two seven-year-olds could form an +attachment so warm, as these little plagues were doing. + +And, to conclude, about the time when Mr. Compton first opened the gate +for his inamorata, Lady Bassett's mind was diverted, in some degree, +even from her beloved boy Compton, by a new trouble, and a host of +passions it excited in her own heart. + +A thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles Bassett, in the form of a letter +from Reginald's tutor, informing him that Reginald and another lad had +been caught wiring hares in a wood at some distance and were now in +custody. + +Sir Charles mounted his horse and rode to the place, leaving Lady +Bassett a prey to great anxiety and bitter remorse. + +Sir Charles came back in two days, with the galling news that his son +and heir was in prison for a month, all his exertions having only +prevailed to get the case summarily dealt with. + +Reginald's companion, a young gypsy, aged seventeen, had got three +months, it being assumed that he was the tempter: the reverse was the +case, though. + +When Sir Charles told Lady Bassett all this, with a face of agony, and +a broken voice, her heart almost burst: she threw every other +consideration to the winds. + +“Charles,” she cried, “I can't bear it: I can't see your heart wrung +any more, and your affections blighted. Tear that young viper out of +your breast: don't go on wasting your heart's blood on a stranger; HE +IS NOT YOUR SON.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +AT this monstrous declaration, from the very lips of the man's wife, +there was a dead silence, Sir Charles being struck dumb, and Lady +Bassett herself terrified at the sound of the words she had uttered. + +After a terrible pause, Sir Charles fixed his eyes on her, with an +awful look, and said, very slowly, “Will--you--have--the--goodness-- +to--say that again? but first think what you are saying.” + +This made Lady Bassett shake in every limb; indeed the very flesh of +her body quivered. Yet she persisted, but in a tone that of itself +showed how fast her courage was oozing. She faltered out, almost +inaudibly, “I say you must waste no more love on him--he is not your +son.” + +Sir Charles looked at her to see if she was in her senses: it was not +the first time he had suspected her of being deranged on this one +subject. But no: she was pale as death, she was cringing, wincing, +quivering, and her eyes roving to and fro; a picture not of frenzy, but +of guilt unhardened. + +He began to tremble in his turn, and was so horror-stricken and +agitated that he could hardly speak. “Am I dreaming?” he gasped. + +Lady Bassett saw the storm she had raised, and would have given the +world to recall her words. + +“Whose is he, then?” asked Sir Charles, in a voice scarcely human. + +“I don't know,” said Lady Bassett doggedly. + +“Then how dare you say that he isn't mine?” + +“Kill me, Charles,” cried she, passionately; “but don't look at me so +and speak to me so. Why I say he is not yours, is he like you either in +face or mind?” + +“And he is like--whom?” + +Lady Bassett had lost all her courage by this time: she whimpered out, +“Like nobody except the gypsies.” + +“Bella, this is a subject which will part you and me for life unless we +can agree upon it--” + +No reply, in words, from Lady Bassett. + +“So please let us understand each other. Your son is not my son. Is +that what you look me in the face and tell me?” + +“Charles, I never said _that._ How could he be my son, and not be +yours?” + +And she raised her eyes, and looked him full in the face: nor fear nor +cringing now: the woman was majestic. + +Sir Charles was a little alarmed in his turn; for his wife's soft eyes +flamed battle for the first time in her life. + +“Now you talk sense,” said he; “if he is yours, he is mine; and, as he +is certainly yours, this is a very foolish conversation, which must not +be renewed, otherwise--” + +“I shall be insulted by my own husband?” + +“I think it very probable. And, as I do not choose you to be insulted, +nor to think yourself insulted, I forbid you ever to recur to this +subject.” + +“I will obey, Charles; but let me say one word first. When I was alone +in London, and hardly sensible, might not this child have been imposed +upon me and you? I'm sure he was.” + +“By whom?” + +“How can I tell? I was alone--that woman in the house had a bad +face--the gypsies do these things, I've heard.” + +“The gypsies! And why not the fairies?” said Sir Charles, +contemptuously. “Is that all you have to suggest--before we close the +subject forever?” + +“Yes,” said Lady Bassett sorrowfully. “I see you take me for a +mad-woman; but time will show. Oh that I could persuade you to detach +your affections from that boy--he will break your heart else--and rest +them on the children that resemble us in mind and features.” + +“These partialities are allowed to mothers; but a father must be just. +Reginald is my first-born; he came to me from Heaven at a time when I +was under a bitter trial, and from the day he was born till this day I +have been a happy man. It is not often a father owes so much to a son +as I do to my darling boy. He is dear to my heart in spite of his +faults; and now I pity him, as well as love him, since it seems he has +only one parent, poor little fellow!” + +Lady Bassett opened her mouth to reply, but could not. She raised her +hands in mute despair, then quietly covered her face with them, and +soon the tears trickled through her white fingers. + +Sir Charles looked at her, and was touched at her silent grief. + +“My darling wife,” said he, “I think this is the only thing you and I +cannot agree upon. Why not be wise as well as loving, and avoid it.” + +“I will never seek it again,” sobbed Lady Bassett. “But oh,” she cried, +with sudden wildness, “something tells me it will meet me, and follow +me, and rob me of my husband. Well, when that day comes, I shall know +how to die.” + +And with this she burst away from him, like some creature who has been +stung past endurance. + +Sir Charles often meditated on this strange scene: turn it how he could +he came back to the same conclusion, that she must have an +hallucination on this subject. He said to himself, “If Bella really +believed the boy was a changeling, she would act upon her conviction, +she would urge me to take some steps to recover our true child, whom +the gypsies or the fairies have taken, and given us poor dear Reginald +instead.” + +But still the conversation, and her strange looks of terror, lay +dormant in his mind: both were too remarkable to be ever forgotten. +Such things lie like certain seeds, awaiting only fresh accidents to +spring into life. + +The month rolled away, and the day came for Reginald's liberation. A +dogcart was sent for him, and the heir of the Bassetts emerged from a +county jail, and uttered a whoop of delight; he insisted on driving, +and went home at a rattling pace. + +He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Huntercombe Hall; and +then it suddenly occurred to his mercurial mind that he should probably +not be received with an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in that +ancient house whose representative he was. + +When he did get there he found the whole family in such a state of +commotion that his return was hardly noticed at all. + + + +Master Compton's dinner hour was two P.M., and yet, at three o'clock of +this day, he did not come in. + +This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her some little anxiety; +for she suspected he might possibly be in the company of Ruperta +Bassett; and, although she did not herself much object to that, she +objected very much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So she went +herself to the end of the lawn, and out into the meadow, that a servant +might not find the young people together, if her suspicion was correct. + +She went into the meadow and called “Compton! Compton!” as loud as she +could, but there was no reply. + +Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent servants about in +all directions. + +But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The thing looked +serious. + +She sent out grooms well mounted to scour the country. One of these +fell in with Sir Charles, who thereupon came home and found his wife in +a pitiable state. She was sitting in an armchair, trembling and crying +hysterically. + +She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a vise. + +“It is Richard Bassett!” she cried. “He knows how to wound and kill me. +He has stolen our child.” + +Sir Charles hurried out, and, soon after that, Reginald arrived, and +stood awe-struck at her deplorable condition. + +Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed Reginald, told him in +three words his brother was missing, and then informed Lady Bassett +that he had learned something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett's +little girl had also disappeared, and his people were out looking after +her. + +“Ah, they are together,” cried Lady Bassett. + +“Together? a son of mine consorting with that viper's brood!” + +“What does that poor child know? Oh, find him for me, if you love that +dear child's mother!'” + +Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the door by a servant, +who blurted out, “The men have dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, and +they want to know if they shall drag the brook.” + +“Hold your tongue, idiot!” cried Sir Charles, and thrust him out; but +the wiseacre had not spoken in vain. Lady Bassett moaned, and went into +worse hysterics, with nobody near her but Reginald. + +That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, and not being +hardened at all points, uttered a sympathetic howl, and flung his arms +round her neck. “Oh! oh! oh! Don't cry, mamma.” + +Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel him. + +“I'll find him for you,” said the boy, “if you will leave off crying.” + +She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as before. + +“Mamma,” said he, getting impatient, “do listen to me. I'll find him +easy enough, if you will only listen.” + +“You! you!” and she stared wildly at him. + +“Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. I'm a poacher. Just +you put me on to his track. I'll soon run into him, if he is above +ground.” + +“A child like you!” cried Lady Bassett; “how can you do that?” and she +began to wring her hands again. + +“I'll show you,” said the boy, getting very impatient, “if you will +just leave off crying like a great baby, and come to any place you like +where he has been to-day and left a mark--” + +“Ah!” cried Lady Bassett. + +“I'm a poacher,” repeated Reginald, quite proudly; “you forget that.” + +“Come with me,” cried Lady Bassett, starting up. She whipped on her +bonnet, and ran with him down the lawn. + +“There, Reginald,” said she, panting, “I think my darling was here this +afternoon; yes, yes, he must; for he had a key of the door, and it is +open.” + +“All right,” said Reginald; “come into the field.” + +He ran about like a dog hunting, and soon found marks among the +cowslips. + +“Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day,” said he; “now, +mamma, there's only two ways put of this field--let us go straight to +that gate; that is the likeliest.” + +Near the gate was some clay, and Reginald showed her several prints of +small feet. + +“Look,” said he, “here's the track of two--one's a gal; how I know, +here's a sole to this shoe no wider nor a knife. Come on.” + +In the next field he was baffled for a long time; but at last he found +a place in a dead hedge where they had gone through. + +“See,” said he, “these twigs are fresh broken, and here's a bit of the +gal's frock. Oh! won't she catch it?”: + +“Oh, you brave, clever boy!” cried Lady Bassett. + +“Come on!” shouted the urchin. + +He hunted like a beagle, and saw like a bird, with his savage, +glittering eye. He was on fire with the ardor of the chase; and, not to +dwell too long on what has been so often and so well written by others, +in about an hour and a half he brought the anxious, palpitating, but +now hopeful mother, to the neighborhood of Bassett's wood. Here he +trusted to his own instinct. “They have gone into the wood,” said he, +“and I don't blame 'em. I found my way here long before his age. I say, +don't you tell; I've snared plenty of the governor's hares in that +wood.” + +He got to the edge of the wood and ran down the side. At last he found +the marks of small feet on a low bank, and, darting over it, discovered +the fainter traces on some decaying leaves inside the wood. + +“There,” said he; “now it is just as if you had got them in your +pocket, for they'll never find their way out of this wood. Bless your +heart, why _I_ used to get lost in it at first.” + +“Lost in the wood!” cried Lady Bassett; “but he will die of fear, or be +eaten by wild beasts; and it is getting so dark.” + +“What about that? Night or day is all one to me. What will you give me +if I find him before midnight?” + +“Anything I've got in the world.” + +“Give me a sovereign?” + +“A thousand!” + +“Give me a kiss?” + +“A hundred!” + +“Then I'll tell you what I'll do--I don't mind a little trouble, to +stop your crying, mamma, because you are the right sort. I'll get the +village out, and we will tread the wood with torches, an' all for them +as can't see by night; I can see all one; and you shall have your kid +home to supper. You see, there's a heavy dew, and he is not like me, +that would rather sleep in this wood than the best bed in London city; +a night in a wood would about settle his hash. So here goes. I can run +a mile in six minutes and a half.” + +With these words, the strange boy was off like an arrow from a bow. + +Lady Bassett, exhausted by anxiety and excitement, was glad to sit +down; her trembling heart would not let her leave the place that she +now began to hope contained her child. She sat down and waited +patiently. + +The sun set, the moon rose, the stars glittered; the infinite leaves +stood out dark and solid, as if cut out of black marble; all was dismal +silence and dread suspense to the solitary watcher. + +Yet the lady of Huntercombe Hall sat on, sick at heart, but patient, +beneath that solemn sky. + +She shuddered a little as the cold dews gathered on her, for she was a +woman nursed in luxury's lap; but she never moved. + +The silence was dismal. Had that wild boy forgotten his promise, or +were there no parents in the village, that their feet lagged so? + +It was nearly ten o'clock, when her keen ears, strained to the utmost, +discovered a faint buzzing of voices; but where she could not tell. + +The sounds increased and increased, and then there was a temporary +silence; and after that a faint hallooing in the wood to her right. The +wood was five hundred acres, and the bulk of it lay in front and to her +left. + +The hallooing got louder and louder; the whole wood seemed to echo; her +heart beat high; lights glimmered nearer and nearer, hares and rabbits +pattered by and startled her, and pheasants thundered off their roosts +with an incredible noise, owls flitted, and bats innumerable, disturbed +and terrified by the glaring lights and loud resounding halloos. + +Nearer, nearer came the sounds, till at last a line of men and boys, +full fifty carrying torches and lanterns, came up, and lighted up the +dew-spangled leaves, and made the mother's heart leap with joyful hope +at succor so powerful. + +Oh, she could have kissed the stout village blacksmith, whose deep +sonorous lungs rang close to her. Never had any man's voice sounded to +her so like a god's as this stout blacksmith's “hilloop! hilloop!” + close and loud in her ear, and those at the end of the line hallooed +“hillo-op; hillo-op!” like an echo; and so they passed on, through bush +and brier, till their voices died away in the distance. + +A boy detached himself from the line, and ran to Lady Bassett with a +traveling rug. It was Reginald. + +“You put on this,” said he. He shook it, and, standing on tiptoe, put +it over her shoulders. + +“Thank you, dear,” said she. “Where is papa?” + +“Oh, he is in the line, and the Highmore swell and all.” + +“Mr. Richard Bassett?” + +“Air, his kid is out on the loose, as well as ours.” + +“Oh, Reginald, if they should quarrel!” + +“Why, our governor can lick him, can't he?” + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +“OH, don't talk so. I wouldn't for all the world they should quarrel.” + +“Well, we have got enough fellows to part them if they do.” + +“Dear Reginald, you have been so good to me, and you are so clever; +speak to some of the men, and let there be no more quarreling between +papa and that man.” + +“All right,” said the boy. + +“On second thoughts take me to papa; I'll be by his side, and then they +cannot.” + +“You want to walk through the wood? that is a good joke. Why, it is +like walking through a river, and the young wood slapping your eyes, +for you can't see every twig by this light, and the leaves sponging +your face and shoulders: and the briers would soon strip your gown into +ribbons, and make your little ankles bleed. No, you are a lady; you +stay where you are, and let us men work it. We shan't find him yet +awhile. I must get near the governor. When we find my lord, I'll give a +whistle you could hear a mile off.” + +“Oh, Reginald, are you sure he is in the wood?” + +“I'd bet my head to a chany orange. You might as well ask me, when I +track a badger to his hole, and no signs of his going out again, +whether old long-claws is there. I wish I was as sure of never going +back to school as I am of finding that little lot. The only thing I +don't like is, the young muff's not giving us a halloo back. But, any +way, I'll find 'em, _alive or dead.”_ + +And, with this pleasing assurance, the little imp scudded off, leaving +the mother glued to the spot with terror. + +For full an hour more the torches gleamed, though fainter and fainter; +and so full was the wood of echoes, that the voices, though distant, +seemed to halloo all round the agonized mother. + +But presently there was a continuous yell, quite different from the +isolated shouts, a distant but unmistakable howl of victory that made a +bolt of ice shoot down her back, and then her heart to glow like fire. + +It was followed by a keen whistle. + +She fell on her knees and thanked God for her boy. + + + +In the middle of this wood was a shallow excavation, an old chalk-pit, +unused for many years. It was never deep, and had been half filled up +with dead leaves; these, once blown into the hollow, or dropped from +the trees, had accumulated. + +The very middle of the line struck on this place, and Moss, the old +keeper, who was near the center, had no sooner cast his eyes into it +than he halted, and uttered a stentorian halloo well known to +sportsmen--“SEE HO!” + + + +A dead halt, a low murmur, and in a very few seconds the line was a +circle, and all the torches that had not expired held high in a flaming +ring over the prettiest little sight that wood had ever presented. + +The old keeper had not given tongue on conjecture, like some youthful +hound. In a little hollow of leaves, which the boy had scraped out, lay +Master Compton and Miss Ruperta, on their little backs, each with an +arm round the other's neck, enjoying the sweet sound sleep of infancy, +which neither the horror of their situation--babes in the wood--nor the +shouts of fifty people had in the smallest degree disturbed; to be +sure, they had undergone great fatigue. + +Young master wore a coronet of bluebells on his golden bead, young miss +a wreath of cowslips on her ebon locks. The pair were flowers, cherubs, +children--everything that stands for young, tender, and lovely. + +The honest villagers gaped, and roared in chorus, and held high their +torches, and gazed with reverential delight. Not for them was it to +finger the little gentlefolks, but only to devour them with admiring +eyes. + +Indeed, the picture was carried home to many a humble hearth, and is +spoken of to this day in Huntercombe village. + +But the pale and anxious fathers were in no state to see pictures--they +only saw their children Sir Charles and Richard Bassett came round with +the general rush, saw, and dashed into the pit. + +Strange to say, neither knew the other was there. Each seized his +child, and tore it away from the contact of the other child, as if from +a viper; in which natural but harsh act they saw each other for the +first time, and their eyes gleamed in a moment with hate and defiance +over their loving children. + +Here was a picture of a different kind, and if the melancholy Jaques, +or any other gentleman with a foible for thinking in a wood; had been +there, methinks he had moralized very prettily on the hideousness of +hate and the beauty of the sentiment it had interrupted so fiercely. +But it escaped this sort of comment for about eight years. Well, all +this woke the bairns; the lights dazzled them, the people scared them. +Each hid a little face on the paternal shoulder. + +The fathers, like wild beasts, each carrying off a lamb, withdrew, +glaring at each other; but the very next moment the stronger and better +sentiment prevailed, and they kissed and blessed their restored +treasures, and forgot their enemies for a time. + +Sir Charles's party followed him, and supped at Huntercombe, every man +Jack of them. + +Reginald, who had delivered a terrific cat-call, now ran off to Lady +Bassett. There she was, still on her knees. + +“Found! found!” he shouted. + +She clasped him in her arms and wept for joy. + +“My eyes!” said he, “what a one you are to cry! You come home; you'll +catch your death o' cold.” + +“No, no; take me to my child at once.” + +“Can't be done; the governor has carried him off through the wood; and +I ain't a going to let you travel the wood. You come with me; we'll go +the short cut, and be home as soon as them.” + +She complied, though trembling all over. + +On the way he told her where the children had been discovered, and in +what attitude. + +“Little darlings!” said she. “But he has frightened his poor mother, +and nearly broken her heart. Oh!” + +“If you cry any more, mamma--Shut up, I tell you!” + +_“Must_ I? Oh!” + +“Yes, or you'll catch pepper.” + +Then he pulled her along, gabbling all the time. “Those two swells +didn't quarrel after all, you see.” + +“Thank Heaven!” + +“But they looked at each other like hobelixes, and pulled the kids away +like pison. Ha! ha! I say, the young 'uns ain't of the same mind as the +old 'uns. I say, though, our Compton is not a bad sort; I'm blowed if +he hadn't taken off his tippet to put round his gal. I say, don't you +think that little chap has begun rather early? Why, _I_ didn't trouble +my head about the gals till I was eleven years old.” + +Lady Bassett was too much agitated to discuss these delicate little +questions just then. + +She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. “Oh, you good, brave, +clever boy!” said she. + +Then she stopped a moment to kiss him heartily. “I shall never forget +this night, dear. I shall always make excuses for you. Oh, shall we +never get home?” + +“We shall be home as soon as they will,” said Reginald. “Come on.” + +He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has probably had enough +of his millclack. + +Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a large fire in +Compton's bedroom, when Sir Charles came in, bringing the boy. + +The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her knees, with her arms +out, as only a mother can stretch them to her child. + +There was not a word of scolding that night. He had made her suffer; +but what of that? She had no egotism; she was a true mother. Her boy +had been lost, and was found; and she was the happiest soul in +creation. + +But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both intensely +mortified, and took measures to keep those little lovers apart in +future. Richard Bassett locked up his gate: Sir Charles padlocked his; +and they both told their wives they really must be more vigilant. The +poor children, being in disgrace, did not venture to remonstrate! But +they used often to think of each other, and took a liking to the +British Sunday; for then they saw each other in church. + +By-and-by even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was sent to school, and +passed her holidays at the sea-side. + + + +To return to Reginald, he was compelled to change his clothes that +evening, but was allowed to sit up, and, when the heads of the house +were a little calmer, became the hero of the night. + +Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, “Reginald, you +have begun a new life to-day, and begun it well. Let us forget the +past, and start fresh to-day, with the love and gratitude of both your +parents.” + +The boy hung his head and said nothing in reply. + +Lady Bassett came to his assistance. “He will; he will. Don't say a +word about the past. He is a good, brave, beautiful boy, and I adore +him.” + +“And I like you, mamma,” said Reginald graciously. + +From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bassett; and Heaven knows, +she had no sinecure; poor Reginald's virtues were too eccentric to +balance his faults for long together. His parents could not have a +child lost in a wood every day; but good taste and propriety can be +offended every hour when one is so young, active, and savage as Master +Reginald. + +He was up at five, and doing wrong all day. + +Hours in the stables, learning to talk horsey, and smell dunghilly. + +Hours in the village, gossiping and romping. + +In good company, an owl. + +In bad, or low company, a cricket, a nightingale, a magpie. + +He was seen at a neighboring fair, playing the fiddle in a booth to +dancing yokels, and receiving their pence. + +He was caught by Moss wiring hairs in Bassett's wood, within twenty +yards of the place where he had found the babes in the wood so nobly. + +Remonstrated with tenderly and solemnly, he informed Sir Charles that +poaching was a thing he could not live without, and he modestly asked +to have Bassett's wood given him to poach in, offering, as a +consideration, to keep all other poachers out: as a greater inducement, +he represented that he should not require a house, but only a coarse +sheet to stretch across an old saw-pit, and a pair of blankets for +winter use--one under, one over. + +Sir Charles was often sad, sometimes indignant. + +Lady Bassett excused each enormity with pathetic ingenuity; excused, +but suffered, and indeed pined visibly, for all this time he was +tormenting her as few women in her position have been tormented. Her +life was a struggle of contesting emotions; she was wounded, harassed, +perplexed, and so miserable, she would have welcomed death, that her +husband might read that Manuscript and cease to suffer, and she escape +the shame of confessing, and of living after it. + +In one word, she was expiating. + +Neither the excuses she made nor the misery she suffered escaped Sir +Charles. + +He said to her at last, “My own Bella, this unhappy boy is killing you. +Dear as he is to me, you are dearer. I must send him away again.” + +“He saved our darling,” said she, faintly, but she could say no more. +He had exhausted excuse. + +Sir Charles made inquiries everywhere, and at last his attention was +drawn to the following advertisement in the _Times:_ + + + +UNMANAGEABLE, Backward, or other BOYS, carefully TRAINED, and EDUCATED, +by a married rector. Home comforts. Moderate terms. Address Dr. +Beecher, Fennymore, Cambridgeshire. + + + +He wrote to this gentleman, and the correspondence was encouraging. +“These scapegraces,” said the artist in tuition, “are like crab-trees; +abominable till you graft them, and then they bear the best fruit.” + +While the letters were passing, came a climax. Reckless Reginald could +keep no bounds intact: his inward definition of a boundary was “a thing +you should go a good way out of your way rather than not overleap.” + +Accordingly, he was often on Highmore farm at night, and even in +Highmore garden; the boundary wall tempted him so. + +One light but windy night, when everybody that could put his head under +cover, and keep it there, did, reckless Reginald was out enjoying the +fresh breezes; he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, to +see what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he speedily discovered a +bright light in Highmore dining-room. + +He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly over the grass and +peered in at the window. + +He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it; on that table, and gleaming +in that light, were several silver vessels of rare size and +workmanship, and Mr. Bassett, with his coat off, and a green baize +apron on, was cleaning one of these with brush and leather. He had +already cleaned the others, for they glittered prodigiously. + +Reginald's black eye gloated and glittered at this unexpected display +of wealth in so dazzling a form. + +But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When Mr. Bassett had +done with that piece of plate he went to the paneled wall, and opened a +door so nicely adapted to the panels, that a stranger would hardly have +discovered it. Yet it was an enormous door, and, being opened, revealed +a still larger closet, lined with green velvet and fitted with shelves +from floor to ceiling. + +Here shone, in all their glory, the old plate of two good families: +that is to say, half the old plate of the Bassetts, and all the old +plate of the Goodwyns, from whom came Highmore to Richard Bassett +through his mother Ruperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; so +named after her aunt; so named after her godmother; so named after her +father, Prince Rupert, cavalier, chemist, glass-blower, etc., etc. + +The wall seemed ablaze with suns and moons, for many of the chased +goblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt: none of your filmy +electro-plate, but gold laid on thick, by the old mercurial process, in +days when they that wrought in precious metals were honest--for want of +knowing how to cheat. + +Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of gold suns and +silver moons, and trembling with Bohemian excitement, reckless Reginald +heard not a stealthy step upon the grass behind him. + +He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doctrine of shadows. + +The Scotch servant saw from a pantry window the shadow of a cap +projected on the grass, with a face, and part of a body. She stepped +out, and got upon the grass. + +Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as cunning; and, owing +to the wind and his absorption, stole on him unheard, and pinned him +with her strong hands by both his shoulders. + +Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and administered a back kick +that made Jessie limp for two days, and scream very lustily for the +present. + +Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee-pot with a +crash and a tinkle, and ran out directly, and secured young Hopeful, +who thereupon began to quake and remonstrate. + +“I was only taking a look,” said he. “Where's the harm of that?” + +“You were trespassing, sir,” said Richard Bassett. + +“What is the harm of that, governor? You can come over all our place, +for what I care.” + +“Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place.” + +“Well, I don't. I say, old chap, don't hit me. 'Twas I put 'em all on +the scent of your kid, you know.” + +“So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits.” + +“Don't it? You ain't such a bad sort, after all.” + +“Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here again, that will be +a fresh account, and I shall open it with a horsewhip.” + +He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like the wind. When he +was gone, Richard Bassett became rather uneasy. He had hitherto +concealed, even from his own family, the great wealth his humble home +contained. His secret was now public. Reginald had no end of low +companions. If burglars got scent of this, it might be very awkward. At +last he hit upon a defense. He got one of those hooks ending in a screw +which are used for pictures, and screwed it into the inside of the +cupboard door near the top. To this he fastened a long piece of catgut, +and carried it through the floor. His bed was just above the cupboard +door, and he attached the gut to a bell by his bedside. By this means +nobody could open that cupboard without ringing in his ears. + +Jessie told Tom, Tom told Maria and Harriet; Harriet and Maria told +everybody; somebody told Sir Charles. He was deeply mortified. + +“You young idiot!” said he, “would nothing less than this serve your +turn? must you go and lower me and yourself by giving just offense to +my one enemy?--the man I hate and despise, and who is always on the +watch to injure or affront me. Oh, who would be a father! There, pack +up your things; you will go to school next morning at eight o'clock.” + +Mr. Reginald packed accordingly, but that did not occupy long; so he +sallied forth, and, taking for granted that it was Richard Bassett who +had been so mean as to tell, he purchased some paint and brushes and a +rope, and languished until midnight. + +But when that magic hour came he was brisk as a bee, let himself down +from his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett's front door, and +inscribed thereon, in large and glaring letters, + +“JERRY SNEAK, ESQ., Tell-Tale Tit.” + +He then returned home much calmed and comforted, climbed up his rope +and into his room, and there slept sweetly, as one who had discharged +his duty to his neighbor and society in general. + +In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried the grooms, and +was off before the appointed time. + +Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young Hopeful gone, without +the awkward ceremony of leave-taking. + +Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his table, and among +them one rarer to him than ortolan, pin-tail, or wild turkey (in which +last my soul delights); for he found a letter from Richard Bassett, +Esq. + + + +“SIR--Some nights since we caught your successor that is to be, at my +dining-room window, prying into my private affairs. Having the honor of +our family at heart, I was about to administer a little wholesome +correction, when he reminded me he had been instrumental in tracking +Miss Bassett, and thereby rescuing her: upon this I was, naturally, +mollified, and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen the +last of him at Highmore. + +“This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, and as Mr. +Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yesterday afternoon, it is +doubtless to him I am indebted for them. + +“I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put them down to +your credit, and your son's. + +“Your obedient servant, + +“RICHARD BASSETT.” + + + +Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that morning; so Sir +Charles digested this dish in solitude. + +He was furious with Reginald; but as Richard Bassett's remonstrance was +intended to insult him, he wrote back as follows: + + + +“SIR--I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should descend to look in +at your windows, or to write anything whatever upon your door; and I +will take care it shall never recur. + +“Yours obediently, + +“CHARLES DYKE BASSETT.” + + + +This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the coals of hatred +between the cousins. + + + +Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar in his new master. + +That gentleman punished him severely for every breach of discipline. +The study was a cool dark room, with one window looking north, and that +window barred. Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time, +upon the slightest escapade. + +Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewailing his lot, and +praying to be removed. + +Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of Mr. Richard +Bassett's letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher at the same time, expressing +his full approval. + +Thus disciplined, the boy began to change; he became moody, sullen, +silent, and even sleepy. This was the less wonderful, that he generally +escaped at night to a gypsy camp, and courted a gypsy girl, who was +nearly as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far more +knowing. + +His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon knew all about +him and his parents. + +One morning the servants got up supernaturally early, to wash. Mr. +Reginald was detected stealing back to his roost, and reported to the +master. + +Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the study alone, put +the other students into the drawing-room, and erected bars to his +bedroom window. + +A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a cage. + +A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to the servants, +and wormed out the truth. + +Then she came at night under his window, and made him a signal. He told +her his hard case, and told her also a resolution he had come to. She +informed the tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up to +him; in two nights he was through the bars; the third he was free, and +joined his sable friends. + +They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, asses, tents, and +baggage, and were many miles away by daybreak, without troubling +turnpikes. + +The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher half hoped he might +come back; still he sent to the nearest station, and telegraphed to +Huntercombe. + +Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once into +Cambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and learned that the boy had +been seen consorting with a tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, that +these were rather high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that they +dealt in horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two of the girls +were handsome, and also singers. + +Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; wrote to the mayors +of towns; advertised, with full description and large reward, and +brought such pressure to bear upon the Egyptians, that the band begin +to fear: they consulted, and took measures for their own security; none +too soon, for, they being encamped on Grey's Common in Oxfordshire, Sir +Charles and the rural police rode into the camp and demanded young +Hopeful. + +They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew nothing of the +matter, and, with injured innocence, invited a full inspection. + +The invitation was accepted. + +Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be struck with an +idea. “It is the young gentleman who wanted to join us in +Cambridgeshire.” + +Then all their throats opened at once. “Yes, gentleman, there was a +lovely young gentleman wanted to come with us; but we wouldn't have +him. What could we do with him?” + +Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and continued his researches, +telegraphing Lady Bassett twice every day. + +A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no longer young, but +still a striking figure: had once, no doubt, been superlatively +handsome. Even now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter: +but his life had impregnated his noble features with hardness and +meanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, and servile: an +excellent figure for a painter, though; born in Spain, he was not +afraid of color, had a red cap on his snaky black hair, and a striped +waistcoat. + +He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm. + +He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. Meyrick. + +The female servant who opened the door ran her eye up and down him, and +said, bruskly, “What do you want with her, my man? because she is +busy.” + +“Oh, she will see me, miss.” + +Softened by the “miss,” the girl laughed, and said, “What makes you +think that, my man?” + +“Give her this, miss,” said the gypsy, “and she will come to me.” + +He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper. + +Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under the +corner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger and +thumb operating through the linen. By this means she avoided two +evils--her fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not dirty +her fingers. + +She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose arms were deep in a +wash-tub. + +Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, and for six +months would not put her hand to anything. But those twin cajolers of +the female heart, Dignity and Laziness, made her so utterly wretched, +that she returned to her old habits of work, only she combined with it +the sweets of domination. + +Sally came in and said, “It's an old gypsy, which he have brought you +this.” + +Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her brown but shapely +arms, and, whipping a wet hand under her apron, took the note just as +Sally had. It contained these words only: + + + +“NURSE--The old Romance will tell you all about me. + +“REGINALD.” + + + +She had no sooner read it than she took her sleeves down, and whipped +her shawl off a peg and put it on, and took off her apron--and all for +an old gypsy. No stranger must take her for anything but a lady. + +Thus embellished in a turn of the hand, she went hastily to the door. + +She and the gypsy both started at sight of each other, and Mrs. Meyrick +screamed. + + + +“Why, what brings you here, old man?” said she, panting. The gypsy +answered with oily sweetness, “The little gentleman sent me, my dear. +Why, you look like a queen.” + +“Hush!” said Mrs. Meyrick.--“Come in here.” + +She made the old gypsy sit down, and she sat close to him. + +“Speak low, daddy,” said she, “and tell me all about my boy, my +beautiful boy.” + +The old gypsy told Mrs. Meyrick the wrongs of Reginald that had driven +him to this; and she fell to crying and lamenting, and inveighing +against all concerned--schoolmaster, Sir Charles, Lady Bassett, and the +gypsies. Them the old man defended, and assured her the young gentleman +was in good hands, and would be made a little king of, all the more +that Keturah had told them there was gypsy blood in him. + +Mrs. Meyrick resented this loudly, and then returned to her grief. + +When she had indulged that grief for a long time, she felt a natural +desire to quarrel with somebody, and she actually put on her bonnet, +and was going to the Hall to give Lady Bassett a bit of her mind, for +she said that lady had never shown the feelings of a woman for the +lamb. + +But she thought better of it, and postponed the visit. “I shall be sure +to say something I shall be sorry for after,” said she; so she sat down +again, and returned to her grief. + +Nor could she ever shake it off as thoroughly as she had done any other +trouble in her life. + +Months after this, she said to Sally, with a burst of tears, “I never +nursed but one, and I shall never nurse another; and now he is across +the seas.” + +She kept the old gypsy at the farm; or, to speak more correctly, she +made the farm his headquarters. She assigned him the only bedroom he +would accept, viz., a cattle-shed, open on one side. She used often to +have him into her room when she was alone; she gave him some of her +husband's clothes, and made him wear a decent hat; by these means she +effaced, in some degree, his nationality, and then she compelled her +servants to call him “the foreign gent.” + +The foreign gent was very apt to disappear in fine weather, but rain +soon drove him back to her fireside, and hunger to her flesh-pots. + +On the very day the foreign gent came to Meyrick's farm Lady Bassett +had a letter by post from Reginald. + + + +“DEAR MAMMA--I am gone with the gypsies across the water. I am sorry to +leave you. You are the right sort: but they tormented me so with their +books and their dark rooms. It is very unfortunate to be a boy. When I +am a man, I shall be too old to be tormented, and then I will come +back. + +“Your dutiful son, + +“REGINALD.” + + + +Lady Bassett telegraphed Sir Charles, and he returned to Huntercombe, +looking old, sad, and worn. + +Lady Bassett set herself to comfort and cheer him, and this was her +gentle office for many a long month. + +She was the more fit for it, that her own health and spirits revived +the moment Reginald left the country with his friends the gypsies; the +color crept back to her cheek, her spirits revived, and she looked as +handsome, and almost as young, as when she married. She tasted +tranquillity. Year after year went by without any news of Reginald, and +the hope grew that he would never cross her threshold again, and +Compton be Sir Charles's heir without any more trouble. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +OUR story now makes a bold skip. Compton Bassett was fourteen years +old, a youth highly cultivated in mind and trained in body, but not +very tall, and rather effeminate looking, because he was so fair and +his skin so white. + +For all that, he was one of the bowlers in the Wolcombe Eleven, whose +cricket-ground was the very meadow in which he had erst gathered +cowslips with Ruperta Bassett; and he had a canoe, which he carried to +adjacent streams, however narrow, and paddled it with singular skill +and vigor. A neighboring miller, suffering under drought, was heard to +say, “There ain't water enough to float a duck; nought can swim but the +dab-chicks and Muster Bassett.” + +He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take long walks with +him, and leave the horses to eat their oats in peace. + +In these walks young master botanized and geologized his own father, +and Sir Charles gave him a little politics, history, and English +poetry, in return. He had a tutor fresh from Oxford for the classics. + +One day, returning with his father from a walk, they met a young lady +walking toward them from the village; she was tall, and a superb +brunette. + +Now it was rather a rare thing to see a lady walking through that +village, so both Sir Charles and his son looked keenly at her as she +came toward them. + +Compton turned crimson, and raised his hat to her rather awkwardly. + +Sir Charles, who did not know the lady from Eve, saluted her, +nevertheless, and with infinite grace; for Sir Charles, in his youth, +had lived with some of the elite of French society, and those gentlemen +bow to the person whom their companion bows to. Sir Charles had +imported this excellent trait of politeness, and always practiced it, +though not the custom in England, the more the pity. + +As soon as the young lady had passed and was out of hearing, Sir +Charles said to Compton, “Who is that lovely girl? Why, how the boy is +blushing!” + +“Oh, papa!” + +“Well, what is the matter?” + +“Don't you see? It is herself come back from school.” + +“I have no doubt it is herself, and not her sister, but who is +herself?” + +“Ruperta Bassett.” + +“Richard Bassett's daughter! impossible. That young lady looks +seventeen or eighteen years of age.” + +“Yes, but it is Ruperta. There's nobody like her. Papa!” + +“Well?” + +“I suppose I may speak to her now.” + +“What for?” + +“She is so beautiful.” + +“That she really is. And therefore I advise you to have nothing to say +to her. You are not children now, you know. Were you to renew that +intimacy, you might be tempted to fall in love with her. I don't say +you would be so mad, for you are a sensible boy; but still, after that +little business in the wood--” + +“But suppose I did fall in love with her?” + +“Then that would be a great misfortune. Don't you know that her father +is my enemy? If you were to make any advances to that young lady, he +would seize the opportunity to affront you, and me through you.” + +This silenced Compton, for he was an obedient youth. + +But in the evening he got to his mother and coaxed her to take his +part. + +Now Lady Bassett felt the truth of all her husband had said; but she +had a positive wish the young people should be on friendly terms, at +all events; she wanted the family feud to die with the generation it +had afflicted. She promised, therefore, to speak to Sir Charles; and so +great was her influence that she actually obtained terms for Compton: +he might speak to Miss Bassett, if he would realize the whole +situation, and be very discreet, and not revive that absurd familiarity +into which, their childhood had been betrayed. + +She communicated this to him, and warned him at the same time that even +this concession had been granted somewhat reluctantly, and in +consideration of his invariable good conduct; it would be immediately +withdrawn upon the slightest indiscretion. + +“Oh, I will be discretion itself,” said Compton; but the warmth with +which he kissed his mother gave her some doubts. However, she was +prepared to risk something. She had her own views in this matter. + +When he had got this limited permission, Master Compton was not much +nearer the mark; for he was not to call on the young lady, and she did +not often walk in the village. + +But he often thought of her, her loving, sprightly ways seven years +ago, and the blaze of beauty with which she had returned. + +At last, one Sunday afternoon, she came to church alone. When the +congregation dispersed, he followed her, and came up with her, but his +heart beat violently. + +“Miss Bassett!” said he, timidly. + +She stopped, and turned her eyes on him; he blushed up to the temples. +She blushed too, but not quite so much. + +“I am afraid you don't remember me,” said the boy, sadly. + +“Yes, I do, sir,” said Ruperta, shyly. + +“How you are grown!” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You are taller than I am, and more beautiful than ever.” + +No answer, but a blush. + +“You are not angry with me for speaking to you?” + +“No, sir.” + +“I wouldn't offend you.” + +“I am not offended. Only--” + +“Oh, Miss Bassett, of course I know you will never be--we shall never +be--like we used.” + +A very deep blush, and dead silence. + +“You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy still, somehow. But +it _would_ have been hard if I might not even speak to you. Would it +not?” + +“Yes,” said the young lady, but after some hesitation, and only in a +whisper. + +“I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you out but once.” + +No reply to this little feeler. + +Then, at last, Compton was discouraged, partly by her beauty and size, +partly by her taciturnity. + +He was silent in return, and so, in a state of mutual constraint, they +reached the gate of Highmore. + +“Good-by,” said Compton reluctantly. + +“Good-by.” + +“Won't you shake hands?” + +She blushed, and put out her hand halfway. He took it and shook it, and +so they parted. + +Compton said to his mother disconsolately, “Mamma, it is all over. I +have seen her, and spoken to her; but she has gone off dreadfully.” + +“Why, what is the matter?” + +“She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She has +not a word to say to a fellow.” + +“Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young lady +now.” + +“Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the bright +little darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid, +dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma.” + +“Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, don't take _too +much_ notice of her, and then you will find she will not be nearly so +shy.” + +“Too much notice! I shall never speak to her again--perhaps.” + +“I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why not treat her like +any other acquaintance?” + +Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone. + +In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a second time. +Horror! she was all monosyllables and blushes again. + +Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reached +Highmore gate, he lost his patience, and said, “I see how it is. I have +lost my sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble you +any more.” And he held out his hand to the young lady for a final +farewell. + +Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, and +then, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, +then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the +mother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all in +less than two seconds. + +Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, but +not a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so much +feminine dignity. + +After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he cast +a few sheep's-eyes at her in church. + +Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbidden +her to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion. + +She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, +she had snubbed him so. + +“Dear me!” said Mrs. Bassett, “why did you do that? Can you not be +polite and nothing more?” + +“No, mamma.” + +“Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so.” + +“He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I am +afraid he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poor +little fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinks +me a cross, ill-tempered thing; and I _am_ very unkind to him, but I +can't help it.” + +“Never mind,” said Mrs. Bassett; “that is much better than to be too +forward. Papa would never forgive that.” + +By-and-by there was a cricket-match in the farmer's meadow, Highcombe +and Huntercombe eleven against the town of Staveleigh. All clubs liked +to play at Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and the +dinner, and the young farmers drank his champagne to their hearts' +content. + +Ruperta took her maid and went to see the match. They found it going +against Huntercombe. The score as follows-- + +Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight runs. + +Huntercombe eighty-eight. + +Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; and +Johnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of the +bowling. + +This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul in +the game. + +The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen more +before the young lady's eyes. + +“Oh, dear!” said she, “what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl? +They pretend he is a capital bowler.” + +At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from the +wicket than usual. + +Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientific +hitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hit +for four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and, +running with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a +few yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throw +himself forward into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held the +ball in sight all the while. + +Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky. + +Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by. + +She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and +touched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did +not speak to her. + +This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to be +delivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg. + +The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like most +country players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ball +exactly right, and sent it whizzing for five. + +But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went at +first bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, +like a catapult, at Wright's wicket. + +Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become of +the ball, started to run, as a matter of course. + +But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's hands +like a bullet, cried, “Back!” + +Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball had +required handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill with +luck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very +judiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a +second before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. + +“How's that, umpire?” cried the wicket-keeper. + +“Out!” said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at that end. + +Up went the ball into the air, amid great excitement of the natives. + +Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, nodded all sparkling +to Compton, and that made his heart beat and his soul aspire. So next +over he claimed his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriended +him: he bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket-keeper stumped +a fifth: the rest were “the tail,” and disposed of for a few runs, and +the total was no more than Huntercombe's first innings. + +Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs before he was +disposed of, five wickets down for a hundred and ten runs. The match +was not won yet, nor sure to be; but the situation was reversed. + +On going out, he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta naturally felt proud +of her admirer. + +Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some iced champagne. + +Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so imploringly that she +sipped a little, and said, warmly, “I hope we shall win: and, if we do, +I know whom we shall have to thank.” + +“And so do I: you, Miss Bassett.” + +“Me? Why, what have _I_ done in the matter?” + +“You brought us luck, for one thing. You put us on our mettle. +Staveleigh shall never beat _me,_ with you looking on.” + +Ruperta blushed a little, for the boy's eyes beamed with fire. + +“If I believed that,” said she, “I should hire myself out at the next +match, and charge twelve pairs of gloves.” + +“You may believe it, then; ask anybody whether our luck did not change +the moment you came.” + +“Then I am afraid it will go now, for I am going.” + +“You will lose us the match if you do,” said Compton. + +“I can't help it: now you are out, it is rather insipid. There, you see +I can pay compliments as well as you.” + +Then she made a graceful inclination and moved away. + +Compton felt his heart ache at parting. He took a thought and ran +quickly to a certain part of the field. + +Ruperta and her attendant walked very slowly homeward. + +Compton caught them just at their own gate. “Cousin!” said he, +imploringly, and held her out a nosegay of cowslips only. + +At that the memories rushed back on her, and the girl seemed literally +to melt. She gave him one look full of womanly sensibility and winning +tenderness, and said, softly, “Thank you, cousin.” + +Compton went away on wings: the ice was broken. + +But the next time he met her it had frozen again apparently: to be sure +she was alone; and young ladies will be bolder when they have another +person of their own sex with them. + + + +Mr. Angelo called on Sir Charles Bassett to complain of a serious +grievance. + +Mr. Angelo had become zealous and eloquent, but what are eloquence and +zeal against sex? A handsome woman had preached for ten minutes upon a +little mound outside the village, and had announced she should say a +few parting words next Sunday evening at six o'clock. + +Mr. Angelo complained of this to Lady Bassett. + +Lady Bassett referred him to Sir Charles. + +Mr. Angelo asked that magistrate to enforce the law against +conventicles. + +Sir Charles said he thought the Act did not apply. + +“Well, but,” said Angelo, “it is on your ground she is going to +preach.” + +“I am the proprietor, but the tenant is the owner in law. He could warn +_me_ off his ground. I have no power.” + +“I fear you have no inclination,” said Angelo, nettled. + +“Not much, to tell the truth,” replied Sir Charles coolly. “Does it +matter so very much _who_ sows the good seed, or whether it is flung +abroad from a pulpit or a grassy knoll?” + +“That is begging the question, Sir Charles. Why assume that it is good +seed? it is more likely to be tares than wheat in this case.” + +“And is not that begging the question? Well, I will make it my business +to know: and if she preaches sedition, or heresy, or bad morals, I will +strain my power a little to silence her. More than that I really cannot +promise you. The day is gone by for intolerance.” + +“Intolerance is a bad thing; but the absence of all conviction is +worse, and that is what we are coming to.” + +“Not quite that: but the nation has tasted liberty; and now every man +assumes to do what is right in his own eyes.” + +“That mean's what is wrong in his neighbor's.” + +Sir Charles thought this neat, and laughed good-humoredly: he asked the +rector to dine on Sunday at half-past seven. “I shall know more about +it by that time,” said he. + +They dined early on Sunday, at Highmore, and Ruperta took her maid for +a walk in the afternoon, and came back in time to hear the female +preacher. + +Half the village was there already, and presently the preacher walked +to her station. + +To Ruperta's surprise, she was a lady, richly dressed, tall and +handsome, but with features rather too commanding. She had a glove on +her left hand, and a little Bible in her right hand, which was large, +but white, and finely formed. + +She delivered a short prayer, and opened her text: + +“Walk honestly; not in strife and envying.” + +Just as the text was given out, Ruperta's maid pinched her, and the +young lady, looking up, saw her father coming to see what was the +matter. Maid was for hiding, but Ruperta made a wry face, blushed, and +stood her ground. “How can he scold me, when he comes himself?” she +whispered. + +During the sermon, of which, short as it was, I can only afford to give +the outline, in crept Compton Bassett, and got within three or four of +Ruperta. + +Finally Sir Charles Bassett came up, in accordance with his promise to +Angelo. + +The perfect preacher deals in generalities, but strikes them home with +a few personalities. + +Most clerical preachers deal only in generalities, and that is +ineffective, especially to uncultivated minds. + +Mrs. Marsh, as might be expected from her sex, went a little too much +the other way. + +After a few sensible words, pointing out the misery in houses, and the +harm done to the soul, by a quarrelsome spirit, she lamented there was +too much of it in Huntercombe: with this opening she went into +personalities: reminded them of the fight between two farm servants +last week, one of whom was laid up at that moment in consequence. +“And,” said she, “even when it does not come to fighting, it poisons +your lives and offends your Redeemer.” + +Then she went into the causes, and she said Drunkenness and Detraction +were the chief causes of strife and contention. + +She dealt briefly but dramatically with Drunkenness, and then lashed +Detraction, as follows: + +“Every class has its vices, and Detraction is the vice of the poor. You +are ever so much vainer than your betters: you are eaten up with +vanity, and never give your neighbor a good word. I have been in thirty +houses, and in not one of those houses has any poor man or poor woman +spoken one honest word in praise of a neighbor. So do not flatter +yourselves this is a Christian village, for it is not. The only excuse +to be made for you, and I fear it is not one that God will accept on +His judgment-day, is that your betters set you a bad example instead of +a good one. The two principal people in this village are kinsfolk, yet +enemies, and have been enemies for twenty years. That's a nice example +for two Christian gentlemen to set to poor people, who, they may be +sure, will copy their sins, if they copy nothing else. + +“They go to church regularly, and believe in the Bible, and yet they +defy both Church and Bible. + +“Now I should like to ask those gentlemen a question. How do they mean +to manage in Heaven? When the baronet comes to that happy place, where +all is love, will the squire walk out? Or do they think to quarrel +there, and so get turned out, both of them? I don't wonder at your +smiling; but it is a serious consideration, for all that. The soul of +man is immortal: and what is the soul? it is not a substantial thing, +like the body; it is a bundle of thoughts and feelings: the thoughts we +die with in this world, we shall wake up with them in the next. Yet +here are two Christians loading their immortal souls with immortal +hate. What a waste of feeling, if it must all be flung off together +with the body, lest it drag the souls of both down to bottomless +perdition. + +“And what do they gain in this world?--irritation, ill-health, and +misery. It is a fact that no man ever reached a great old age who hated +his neighbor; still less a _good_ old age; for, if men would look +honestly into their own hearts, they would own that to hate is to be +miserable. + +“I believe no men commit a sin for many years without some special +warnings; and to neglect these, is one sin more added to their account. +Such a warning, or rather, I should say, such a pleading of Divine +love, those two gentlemen have had. Do you remember, about eight years +ago, two children were lost on one day, out of different houses in this +village?” (A murmur from the crowd.) + +“Perhaps some of you here present were instrumental, under God, in +finding that pretty pair.” (A louder murmur.) + +“Oh, don't be afraid to answer me. Preaching is only a way of speaking; +and I'm only a woman that is speaking to you for your good. Tell me--we +are not in church, tied up by stait-laced rules to keep men and women +from getting within arm's-length of one another's souls--tell me, who +saw those two lost children?” + +“I, I, I, I, I,” roared several voices in reply. + +“Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent darlings had +each an arm round the other's neck?” + +“Ay.” + +“And little coronets of flowers, to match their hair?” (That was the +girl's doing.) + +“Ay.” + +“And the little boy had played the man, and taken off his tippet to put +round the little lady?” + +“Ay!” with a burst of enthusiasm from the assembled rustics. + +“I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting up the dewy leaves +overhead, and that Divine picture of innocent love. Well, which was the +prettiest sight, and the fittest for heaven--the hatred of the parents, +or the affection of the children? + +“And now mark what a weapon hatred is, in the Devil's hands. There are +only two people in this parish on whom that sight was wasted; and those +two being gentlemen, and men of education, would have been more +affected by it than humble folk, if Hell had not been in their hearts, +for Hate comes from Hell, and takes men down to the place it comes +from. + +“Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of your betters: +and I hope those children will shun it too. A father is to be treated +with great veneration, but above all is our Heavenly Father and His +law; and that law, what is it?--what has it been this eighteen hundred +years and more? Why, Love. + +“Would you be happy in this world, and fit your souls to dwell +hereafter even in the meanest of the many mansions prepared above, you +_must,_ above all things, be charitable. You must not run your neighbor +down behind his back, or God will hate you: you must not wound him to +his face, or God will hate you. You must overlook a fault or two, and +see a man's bright side, and then God will love you. If you won't do +that much for your neighbor, why, in Heaven's name, should God overlook +a multitude of sins in you? + +“Nothing goes to heaven surer than Charity, and nothing is so fit to +sit in heaven. St. Paul had many things to be proud of and to praise in +himself--things that the world is more apt to admire than Christian +charity, the sweetest, but humblest of all the Christian graces: St. +Paul, I say, was a bulwark of learning, an anchor of faith, a rock of +constancy, a thunder-bolt of zeal: yet see how he bestows the palm. + +“'Knowledge puffeth up: but charity edifieth. Though I speak with the +tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as +sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of +prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I +have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, +I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and +though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth +me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; +charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself +unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no +evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth +all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all +things. Charity never faileth; but prophecies--they shall fail; +tongues--they shall cease; knowledge--it shall vanish away. And now +abideth Faith, Hope, Charity, these three; but the greatest of these is +charity.'” + +The fair orator delivered these words with such fire, such feeling, +such trumpet tones and heartfelt eloquence, that for the first time +those immortal words sounded in these village ears true oracles of God. + +Then, without pause, she went on. “So let us lift our hearts in earnest +prayer to God that, in this world of thorns, and tempers, and trials, +and troubles, and cares, He will give us the best cure for all--the +great sweetener of this mortal life--the sure forerunner of Heaven--His +most excellent gift of charity.” Then, in one generous burst, she +prayed for love divine, and there was many a sigh and many a tear, and +at the close an “Amen!” such as, alas! we shall never, I fear, hear +burst from a hundred bosoms where men repeat beautiful but stale words +and call it prayer. + +The preacher retired, but the people still lingered spell-bound, and +then arose that buzz which shows that the words have gone home. + +As for Richard Bassett, he had turned on his heel, indignant, as soon +as the preacher's admonitions came his way. + +Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, being steeled by +the conviction that the quarrel was none of his seeking. Moreover, he +was not aware what a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what a +good wife she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. His mind, +therefore, made a clear leap from Rhoda Somerset, the vixen of Hyde +Park and Mayfair, to this preacher, and he could not help smiling; than +which a worse frame for receiving unpalatable truths can hardly be +conceived. And so the elders were obdurate. But Compton and Ruperta had +no armor of old age, egotism, or prejudice to turn the darts of honest +eloquence. They listened, as to the voice of an angel; they gazed, as +on the face of an angel; and when those silvery accents ceased, they +turned toward each other and came toward each other, with the sweet +enthusiasm that became their years. “Oh, Cousin Ruperta!” quavered +Compton. '“Oh, Cousin Compton!” cried Ruperta, the tears trickling down +her lovely cheeks. + +They could not say any more for ever so long. + +Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, “I will go and +speak to her, and thank her.” + +“Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea,” suggested the maid. + +“Tea!” said Ruperta. “Our souls are before our tea! I must speak to +her, or else my heart will choke me and kill me. I will go--and so will +Compton.” + +“Oh, yes!” said Compton. + +And they hurried after the preacher. + +They came up with her flushed and panting; and now it was Compton's +turn to be shy--the lady was so tall and stately too. + +But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in petticoats. “Oh, madam,” + said she, “if you please, may we speak to you?” + +Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline features softened +instantly at the two specimens of beauty and innocence that had run +after her. + +“Certainly, my young friends;” and she smiled maternally on them. She +had children of her own. + +“Who do you think we are? We are the two naughty children you preached +about so beautifully.” + +“What! _you_ the babes in the wood?” + +“Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we are fifteen now--are +we not, Cousin Compton?” + +“Yes, madam.” + +“And we are both so unhappy at our parents' quarreling. At least I am.” + +“And so am I.” + +“And we came to thank you. Didn't we, Compton?” + +“Yes, Ruperta.” + +“And to ask your advice. How are we to make our parents be friends? Old +people will not be advised by young ones. They look down on us so; it +is dreadful.” + +“My dear young lady,” said Mrs. Marsh, “I will try and answer you: but +let me sit down a minute; for, after preaching, I am apt to feel a +little exhausted. Now, sit beside me, and give me each a hand, if you +please. + +“Well, my dears, I have been teaching you a lesson; and now you teach +me one, and that is, how much easier it is to preach reconciliation and +charity than it is to practice it under certain circumstances. However, +my advice to you is first to pray to God for wisdom in this thing, and +then to watch every opportunity. Dissuade your parents from every +unkind act: don't be afraid to speak--with the word of God at your +back. I know that you have no easy task before you. Sir Charles Bassett +and Mr. Bassett were both among my hearers, and both turned their backs +on me, and went away unsoftened; they would not give me a chance; would +not hear me to an end, and I am not a wordy preacher neither.” + +Here an interruption occurred. Ruperta, so shy and cold with Compton, +flung her arms round Mrs. Marsh's neck, with the tears in her eyes, and +kissed her eagerly. + +“Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in turn, “I _was_ a +little mortified. But that was very weak and foolish. I am sorry, for +their own sakes, they would not stay; it was the word of God: but they +saw only the unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you _have_ a +hard task; but you must work upon your mothers, and win them to +charity.” + +“Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never approved this +unhappy quarrel.” + +“No more has mine.” + +“Is it so? Then you must try and get the two ladies to speak to each +other. But something tells me that a way will be opened. Have patience; +have faith; and do not mind a check or two; but persevere, remembering +that 'blessed are the peace-makers.'” + +She then rose, and they took leave of her. + +“Give me a kiss, children,” said she. “You have done me a world of +good. My own heart often flags on the road, and you have warmed and +comforted it. God bless you!” + +And so they parted. + +Compton and Ruperta walked homeward. Ruperta was very thoughtful, and +Compton could only get monosyllables out of her. This discouraged, and +at last vexed him. + +“What have I done,” said he, “that you will speak to anybody but me?” + +“Don't be cross, child,” said she; “but answer me a question. Did you +put your tippet round me in that wood?” + +“I suppose so.” + +“Oh, then you don't remember doing it, eh?” + +“No; that I don't.” + +“Then what makes you think you did?” + +“Because they say so. Because I must have been such an awful cad if I +didn't. And I was always much fonder of you than you were of me. My +tippet! I'd give my head sooner than any harm should come to you, +Ruperta!” + +Ruperta made no reply, but, being now at Highmore, she put out her hand +to him, and turned her head away. He kissed her hand devotedly, and so +they parted. + +Compton told Lady Bassett all that happened, and Ruperta told Mrs. +Bassett. + +Those ladies readily promised to be on the side of peace, but they +feared it could only be the work of time, and said so. + +By-and-by Compton got impatient, and told Ruperta he had thought of a +way to compel their fathers to be friends. “I am afraid you won't like +the idea at _first,”_ said he; “but the more you think of it, the more +you will see it is the surest way of all.” + +“Well, but what is it?” + +“You must let me marry you.” + +Ruperta stared, and began to blush crimson. + +“Will you, cousin?” + +“Of course not, child. The idea!” + +“Oh, Ruperta,” cried the boy in dismay, “surely you don't mean to marry +anybody else but me!” + +“Would that make you very unhappy, then?” + +“You know it would, wretched for my life.” + +“I should not like to do that. But I disapprove of early marriages. I +mean to wait till I'm nineteen; and that is three years nearly.” + +“It is a fearful time; but if you will promise not to marry anybody +else, I suppose I shall live through it.” + +Ruperta, though she made light of Compton's offer, was very proud of it +(it was her first). She told her mother directly. + +Mrs. Bassett sighed, and said that was too blessed a thing ever to +happen. + +“Why not?” said Ruperta. + +“How could it,” said Mrs. Bassett, “with everybody against it but poor +little me!” + +“Compton assures me that Lady Bassett wishes it.” + +“Indeed! But Sir Charles and papa, Ruperta?” + +“Oh, Compton must talk Sir Charles over, and I will persuade papa. I'll +begin this evening, when he comes home from London.” + +Accordingly, as he was sitting alone in the dining-room sipping his +glass of port, Ruperta slipped away from her mother's side and found +him. + +His face brightened at the sight of her; for he was extremely fond and +proud of this girl, for whom he would not have the bells rung when she +was born. + +She came and hung round his neck a little, and kissed him, and said +softly, “Dear papa, I have something to tell you. I have had a +proposal.” + +Richard Bassett stared. + +“What, of marriage?” + +Ruperta nodded archly. + +“To a child like you? Scandalous! No, for, after all, you look nineteen +or twenty. And who is the highwayman that thinks to rob me of my +precious girl?” + +“Well, papa, whoever he is, he will have to wait three years, and so I +told him. It is my cousin Compton.” + +“What!” cried Richard Bassett, so loudly that the girl started back +dismayed. “That little monkey have the impudence to offer marriage to +my daughter? Surely, Ruperta, you have offered him no encouragement?” + +“N--no.” + +“Your mother promised me nothing but common civility should pass +between you and that young gentleman.” + +“She promised for me, but she could not promise for him--poor little +fellow!” + +“Marry a son of the man who has robbed and insulted your father!” + +“Oh, papa! is it so? Are you sure you did not begin?” + +“If you can think that, it is useless to say more. I thought +ill-fortune had done its worst; but no; blow upon blow, and wound upon +wound. Don't spare me, child. Nobody else has, and why should you? +Marry my enemy's son, his younger son, and break your father's heart.” + +At this, what could a sensitive girl of sixteen do but burst out +crying, and promise, round her father's neck, never to marry any one +whom he disliked. + +When she had made this promise, her father fondled and petted her, and +his tenderness consoled her, for she was not passionately in love with +her cousin. + +Yet she cried a good deal over the letter in which she communicated +this to Compton. + +He lay in wait for her; but she baffled him for three weeks. + +After that she relaxed her vigilance, for she had no real wish to avoid +him, and was curious to see whether she had cured him. + +He met her; and his conduct took her by surprise. He was pale, and +looked very wretched. + +He said solemnly, “Were you jesting with me when you promised to marry +no one but me?” + +“No, Compton. But you know I could never marry you without papa's +consent.” + +“Of course not; but, what I fear, he might wish you to marry somebody +else.” + +“Then I should refuse. I will never break my word to you, cousin. I am +not in love with you, you are too young for that--but somehow I feel I +could not make you unhappy. Can't you trust my word? You might. I come +of the same people as you. Why do you look so pale?--we are very +unhappy.” + +Then the tears began to steal down her cheeks; and Compton's soon +followed. + +Compton consulted his mother. She told him, with a sigh, she was +powerless. Sir Charles might yield to her, but she had no power to +influence Mr. Bassett at present. “The time may come,” said she. She +could not take a very serious view of this amour, except with regard to +its pacific results. So Mr. Bassett's opposition chilled her in the +matter. + +While things were so, something occurred that drove all these minor +things out of her distracted heart. + +One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and Compton sat at dinner, a +servant came in to say there was a stranger at the door, and he called +himself Bassett. + +“What is he like?” said Lady Bassett, turning pale. + +“He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is Mr. Bassett,” + repeated the man, with a scandalized air. + +Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall door. Compton +followed to the door only and looked. + +Sure enough it was Reginald, full-grown, and bold, as handsome as ever, +and darker than ever. + +In that moment his misconduct in running away never occurred either to +Sir Charles or Compton; all was eager and tremulous welcome. The hall +rang with joy. They almost carried him into the dining-room. + +The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored velvet, half +hidden by the table. + +Compton ran forward with a cry of dismay. + +It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as white as her neck and +arms, and these as white and smooth as satin. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +LADY BASSETT was carried to her room, and did not reappear. She kept +her own apartments, and her health declined so rapidly that Sir Charles +sent for Dr. Willis. He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay in +the mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, and her +beautiful eyes began to shine like stars, preternaturally large. She +was in a frightful condition: she longed to tell the truth and end it +all; but then she must lose her adored husband's respect, and perhaps +his love; and she had not the courage. She saw no way out of it but to +die and leave her confession; and, as she felt that the agony of her +soul was killing her by degrees, she drew a somber resignation from +that. + +She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the sight of him. + +Compton came to her many times a day, with a face full of concern, and +even terror. But she would not talk to him of herself. + +He brought her all the news he heard, having no other way to cheer her. + +One day he told her there were robbers about. Two farmhouses had been +robbed, a thing not known in these parts for many years. + +Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing. + +But by-and-by her beloved son came to her in distress with a grief of +his own. + +Ruperta Bassett was now the beauty of the county, and it seems Mr. +Rutland had danced with her at her first ball, and been violently +smitten with her; he had called more than once at Highmore, and his +attentions were directly encouraged by Mr. Bassett. Now Mr. Rutland was +heir to a peerage, and also to considerable estates in the county. + +Compton was sick at heart, and, being young, saw his life about to be +blighted; so now he was pale and woe-begone, and told her the sad news +with such deep sighs, and imploring, tearful eyes, that all the mother +rose in arms. “Ah!” said she, “they say to themselves that I am down, +and cannot fight for my child; but I would fight for him on the edge of +the grave. Let me think all by myself, dear. Come back to me in an +hour. I shall do something. Your mother is a very cunning woman--for +those she loves.” + +Compton kissed her gown--a favorite action of his, for he worshiped +her--and went away. + +The invalid laid her hollow cheek upon her wasted hand, and thought +with all her might. By degrees her extraordinary brain developed a +twofold plan of action; and she proceeded to execute the first part, +being the least difficult, though even that was not easy, and brought a +vivid blush to her wasted cheek. + +She wrote to Mrs. Bassett. + + + +“MADAM--I am very ill, and life is uncertain. Something tells me you, +like me, regret the unhappy feud between our houses. If this is so, it +would be a consolation to me to take you by the hand and exchange a few +words, as we already have a few kind looks. + +“Yours respectfully, + +“BELLA BASSETT.” + + + +She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he might send a servant +with it to Highmore at once. + +“Oh, mamma!” said he, “I never thought you would do that: how good you +are! You couldn't ask Ruperta, could you? Just in a little postscript, +you know.” + +Lady Bassett shook her head. + +“That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook that fish for you, not +frighten her away.” + +Great was the astonishment at Highmore when a blazing footman knocked +at the door and handed Jessie the letter with assumed nonchalance, then +stalked away, concealing with professional art his own astonishment at +what he had done. + +It was no business of Jessie's to take letters into the drawing-room; +she would have deposited any other letter on the hall table; but she +brought this one in, and, standing at the door, exclaimed, “Here a +letter fr' Huntercombe!” + +Richard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Ruperta, all turned upon her with +one accord. + +“From where?” + +“Fr' Huntercombe itsel'. Et isna for you, nor for you, missy. Et's for +the mesterress.” + +She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett and laid the letter down on the +table; then drew back a step or two, and, being Scotch, coolly waited +to hear the contents. Richard Basset, being English, told her she need +not stay. + +Mrs. Bassett cast a bewildered look at her husband and daughter, then +opened the letter quietly; read it quietly; and, having read it, took +out her handkerchief and began to cry quietly. + +Ruperta cried, “Oh, mamma!” and in a moment had one long arm round her +mother's neck, while the other hand seized the letter, and she read it +aloud, cheek to cheek; but, before she got to an end, her mother's +tears infected her, and she must whimper too. + +“Here are a couple of geese,” said Richard Bassett. “Can't you write a +civil reply to a civil letter without sniveling? I'll answer the letter +for you.” + +“No!” said Mrs. Bassett. + +Richard was amazed: Ruperta ditto. + +The little woman had never dealt in “Noes,” least of all to her +husband; and besides this was such a plump “No.” It came out of her +mouth like a marble. + +I think the sound surprised even herself a little, for she proceeded to +justify it at once. “I have been a better wife than a Christian this +many years. But there's a limit. And, Richard, I should never have +married you if you had told me we were to be at war all our lives with +our next neighbor, that everybody respects. To live in the country, and +not speak to our only neighbor, that is a life I never would have left +my father's house for. Not that I complain: if you have been bitter to +them, you have always been good and kind to me; and I hope I have done +my best to deserve it; but when a sick lady, and perhaps dying, holds +out her hand to me---write her one of your cold-blooded letters! That I +WON'T. Reply? my reply will be just putting on my bonnet and going to +her this afternoon. It is Passion-week, too; and that's not a week to +play the heathen. Poor lady! I've seen in her sweet eyes this many +years that she would gladly be friends with me; and she never passed me +close but she bowed to me, in church or out, even when we were at +daggers drawn. She is a lady, a real lady, every inch. But it is not +that altogether. No, if a sick woman called me to her bedside this +week, I'd go, whether she wrote from Huntercombe Hall or the poorest +house in the place; else how could I hope my Saviour would come to _my_ +bedside at my last hour?” + +This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to be +sure, but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Bassett, and +enraptured Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother's +neck, and cried, “Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best woman +in England, and now I know it.” + +“Well, well, well,” said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, “Did +I ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not set +up your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox. +Unfortunately, she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the +best, and she is going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Bassett will +turn our mother inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her; +you are a shrewd girl.” + +“My daughter will not go till she is asked,” said Mrs. Bassett, firmly. + +“In that case,” said Richard, dryly, “let us hope the Lord will protect +you, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den.” + +No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the words +of faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism. + +Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall. + +After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room where +Lady Bassett was lying on a sofa. + +Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her. + +She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that it +rather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Bassett changed +her style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, +and gentle amity, not overdone. + +Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other in +silence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill. + +“You would have come--like this--years ago--at a word?” faltered Lady +Bassett. + +“Yes,” gulped Mrs. Bassett. + +Then there was another long pause. + +“Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us +both.” + +“It will kill one of us.” + +“Not if I can help it.” + +“God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold +the hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage.” + +“Why should you take the blame?” said Mrs. Bassett. “We have both been +good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a +husband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor +woman.” + +“It is, indeed.” + +Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassett +broke it, with some hesitation. “I hope, Lady Bassett, your present +illness is not in any way--I hope you do not fear anything more from my +husband?” + +“Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it--especially if we provoke +him? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave your +husband cause for just resentment.” + +“Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, +Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace.” + +“Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to +ask too much at once.” + +“I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett.” + +“No, bring her.” + +“Then tell me your hour.” + +“Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both to +myself.” + + + +While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Bassett, +being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usual +skill upon her young mind. + +He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to see +her a countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage. + +He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week, +and requested her to receive him graciously. + +She promised that at once. + +“That,” said he, “will be a much better match for you than the younger +son of Sir Charles Bassett. However, my girl is too proud to go into a +family where she is not welcome.” + +“Much too proud for that,” said Ruperta. + +He left her smarting under that suggestion. + +While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Bassett came home. +She was in raptures with Lady Bassett, and told her daughter all that +had passed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett to +take her to Huntercombe to-morrow. + +“Me, dear!” cried Ruperta; “why, what can she want of me?” + +“All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In my +opinion, you will be _very_ welcome to poor Lady Bassett.” + +“Is she very ill?” + +Mrs. Bassett shook her head. “She is much changed. She says she should +be better if we were all at peace; but I don't know.” + +“Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow.” + +They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Bassett +received them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty and +womanly appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in a +moment. She spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion to +turn to the daughter, and to say, “May I hope, Miss Bassett, that you +are on the side of peace, like your dear mother and myself?” + +“I am,” said Ruperta, firmly; “I always was--especially after that +beautiful sermon, you know, mamma.” + +Says the proud mother, “You might tell Lady Bassett you think it is +your mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles.” + +“Mamma!” said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. “If +you tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me +very presumptuous.” + +“No, no,” said Lady Bassett, “enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm +is beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth.” + +“I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have no +enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me.” + +“And so they are,” said Lady Bassett warmly. + +But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I +can only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta a +beautiful and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and +Ruperta was charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touched +and interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made +friends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things had +passed between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she had +at heart. “My dear,” said she to Ruperta, “when I first saw you, I +wondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so much +more advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I think +the poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all my +sympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just put +in my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bear +for my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear.” + +“Thank you, Lady Bassett,” said Mrs. Bassett; “and, since you have said +so much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to my +daughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THE +TIPPET.” + +Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta only +blushed, and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the feats +of her childhood. + +Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly, +“You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for a +peacemaker partly.” + +“My dear friend,” said Lady Bassett, “you are speaking riddles to me; +what tippet?” + +“The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my +girl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me +keeping it, Lady Bassett--I know I was little better than a thief; but +it was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady +Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, +you are a mother;” and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, “why do you keep +saying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years +of age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of +any other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand many +things, and, for one, you'll--under--stand--why I'm so--fool--ish; +seeing the sweet boy's mother ready--to cry--too--oh! oh! oh!” + +Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet cry +together in each other's arms. + +Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought not +to agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill. + +“And that is true, my good, sensible girl,” said Mrs. Bassett; “but it +has lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it to +myself any longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so I +suppose you think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you +warm.” + +“Don't say that, mamma,” said Ruperta, reproachfully. “I spoke to dear +Compton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even.” + +“All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my own +girl.” + +“I never will, mamma.” + +By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urged +to declare her real sentiments. + +By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest she +should be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle in +her own mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal tried +her hard. + +She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, pretty +firmly and very slowly, “I had always a great affection for my cousin +Compton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but a +boy; now I--” + +A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty and +conscious womanhood, completed the sentence. + +“He will get older every day,” said Mrs. Bassett. + +“And so shall I.” + +“But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your full +growth. He hasn't.” + +“I agree with the dear girl,” said Lady Bassett, adroitly. “Compton, +with his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present. +But it is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage; +what I fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. To +speak plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, and +visits at Highmore.” + +“Yes, he has been there twice.” + +“He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and he +is not a boy, for he has long mustaches.” + +“I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects,” + said the fair young beauty. + +“You are an extraordinary girl.” + +“That she is,” said Mrs. Bassett. “Her father has no more power over +her than I have.” + +“Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?” + +“No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way.” + +Lady Bassett put in her word. “Well, but this one thing is the +happiness or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for looking +well before she leaps.” + +A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker. + +“But,” said Lady Bassett, tenderly, “it is something to have two +mothers when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, my +love; I would try and live for you.” + +This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett's +neck, and they kissed each other like mother and daughter. + +“This is too great a temptation,” said Ruperta. “Yes; I _will_ engage +myself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Without +his consent I could not marry any one.” + +“Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot,” said Mrs. Bassett. + +Ruperta shook her head. “Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years to +gain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate +as fifty.” + +“It shall not take years, nor yet months,” said Lady Bassett. “I know +_Mr. Bassett's_ objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may.” + +This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply. + +Said Lady Bassett firmly, “Do you pledge yourself to me, if I can +obtain Mr. Bassett's consent?” + +“I do,” said Ruperta. “But--” + +“You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hope +to show you you are mistaken.” + +The ladies rose to go: Lady Bassett took leave of them thus: “Good-by, +my most valued friend, and sister in sorrow; good-by, my dear +daughter.” + + + +At the gate of Huntercombe, whom should they meet but Compton Bassett, +looking very pale and unhappy. + +He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta; but he gazed on her with a +wistful and terrified look that was very touching. She gave him a soft +pitying smile in return, that drove him almost wild with hope. + +That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. + +When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their soft accents, he +returned short, surly answers. Evidently a storm was brewing. + +At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta's repeated visits to +Huntercombe Hall. “You are not dealing fairly with me, you two,” said +he. “I allowed you to go once to see a woman that says she is very ill; +but I warned you she was the cunningest woman in creation, and would +make a fool of you both; and now I find you are always going. This will +not do. She is netting two simple birds that I have the care of. Now, +listen to me; I forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. Do +you hear me?” + +“We hear you, papa,” said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; “we must be deaf, if +we did not.” + +Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. + +“It is not a request, it is a command.” + +Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. “And a most tyrannical +one,” said she. + +Ruperta put her hand before her mother's mouth, then turned to her +father. + +“There was no need to express your wish so harshly, papa. We shall +obey.” + +Then she whispered her mother, “And Mr. Rutland shall pay for it.” + +Mrs. Bassett communicated this behest to Lady Bassett in a letter. + +Then Lady Bassett summoned all her courage, and sent for her son +Compton. “Compton,” said she, “I must speak to Reginald. Can you find +him?” + +“Oh yes, I can find him. I am sorry to say anybody can find him at this +time of day.” + +“Why, where is he?” + +“I hardly like to tell you.” + +“Do you think his peculiarities have escaped me?” + +“At the public-house.” + +“Ask him to come to me.” + + + +Compton went to the public-house, and there, to his no small disgust, +found Mr. Reginald Bassett playing the fiddle, and four people, men and +women, dancing to the sound, while one or two more smoked and looked +on. + +Compton restrained himself till the end of that dance, and then stepped +up to Reginald and whispered him, “Mamma wants to see you directly.” + +“Tell her I'm busy.” + +“I shall tell her nothing of the kind. You know she is very ill, and +has not seen you yet; and now she wants to. So come along at once, like +a good fellow.” + +“Youngster,” said Reginald, “it is a rule with me never to leave a +young woman for an old one.” + +“Not for your mother?” + +“No, nor my grandmother either.” + +“Then you were born without a heart. But you shall come, whether you +like it or not--though I have to drag you there by the throat.” + +“Learn to spell 'able' first.” + +“I'll spell it on your head, if you don't come.” + +“Oh, that is the game, young un, is it?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, don't let us have a shindy on the bricks; there is a nice little +paddock outside. Come out there and I'll give you a lesson.” + +“Thank you; I don't feel inclined to assist you in degrading our +family.” + +“Chaps that are afraid to fight shouldn't threaten. Come now, the first +knock-down blow shall settle it. If I win, you stay here and dance with +us. If you win, I go to the old woman.” + +Compton consented, somewhat reluctantly; but to do him justice, his +reluctance arose entirely from his sense of relationship, and not from +any fear of his senior. + +The young gentlemen took off their coats, and proceeded to spar without +any further ceremony. + +Reginald, whose agility was greater than his courage, danced about on +the tips of his toes, and succeeded in planting a tap or two on +Compton's cheek. + +Compton smarted under these, and presently, in following his +antagonist, who fought like a shadow, he saw Ruperta and her mother +looking horror-stricken over the palings. + +Infuriated with Reginald for this exposure, he rushed in at him, +received a severe cut over the eye, but dealt him with his mighty +Anglo-Saxon arm a full straightforward smasher on the forehead, which +knocked him head over heels like a nine-pin. + +That active young man picked himself up wondrous slowly; rheumatism +seemed to have suddenly seized his well-oiled joints; he then addressed +his antagonist, in his most ingratiating tones--“All right, sir,” said +he. “You are the best man. I'll go to the old lady this minute.” + +“I'll see you go,” said Compton, sternly; “and mind I can run as well +as hit: so none of your gypsy tricks with me.” + +Then he came sheepishly to the palings and said, “It is not my fault, +Miss Bassett; he would not come to mamma without, and she wants to +speak to him.” + +“Oh! he is hurt! he is wounded!” cried Ruperta. “Come here to me.” + +He came to her, and she pressed her white handkerchief tenderly on his +eyebrow; it was bleeding a little. + +“Well, are you coming?” said Reginald, ironically, “or do _you_ like +young women better than old ones?” + +Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, laid his hand on +the palings, vaulted over, and followed Reginald. + +“That's your _boy,”_ said Mrs. Bassett. + +Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp. + +“What is the matter, darling?” + +“The fighting--the blood”--said Ruperta, sobbing. + +Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed her. + +When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, they rather enjoyed +the thing, especially Ruperta: she detested Reginald for his character, +and for having insulted her father. + +All of a sudden, she cried out, “He has taken my handkerchief. How dare +he?” And she affected anger. + +“Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, “we have got his +tippet.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +COULD any one have looked through the keyhole at Lady Bassett waiting +for Reginald, he would have seen, by the very movements of her body, +the terrible agitation of the mind. She rose--she sat down--she walked +about with wild energy--she dropped on the sofa, and appeared to give +it up as impossible; but ere long that deadly languor gave way to +impatient restlessness again. + +At last her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, accompanied by +no rustle of petticoats, and yet the footstep was not Compton's. + +Instantly she glanced with momentary terror toward the door. + +There was a tap. + +She sat down, and said, with a tone from which all agitation was +instantly banished, “Come in.” + +The door opened, and the swarthy Reginald, diabolically handsome, with +his black snaky curls, entered the room. + +She rose from her chair, and fixed her great eyes on him, as if she +would read him soul and body before she ventured to speak. + +“Here I am, mamma: sorry to see you look so ill.” + +“Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Bassett, without relaxing for a moment +that searching gaze. + +She said, still covering him with her eye, “Would you cure me if you +could?” + +To appreciate this opening, and Lady Bassett's sweet engaging manner, +you must understand that this young man was, in her eyes, a sort of +black snake. Her flesh crept, with fear and repugnance, at the sight of +him. Yet that is how she received him, being a mother defending her +favorite son. + +“Of course I would,” said Reginald. “Just you tell me how.” + +Excellent words. But the lady's calm infallible eye saw a cunning +twinkle in those black twinkling orbs. Young as he was, he was on his +guard, and waiting for her. Nor was this surprising: Reginald, +naturally intelligent, had accumulated a large stock of low cunning in +his travels and adventures with the gypsies, a smooth and cunning +people. Lady Bassett's fainting upon his return, his exclusion from her +room, and one or two minor circumstances, had set him thinking. + +The moment she saw that look, Lady Bassett, with swift tact, glided +away from the line she had intended to open, and, after merely thanking +him, and saying, “I believe you, dear,” though she did not believe him, +she resumed, in a very impressive tone, “You see me worse than ever +to-day, because my mind is in great trouble. The time is come when I +must tell you a secret, which will cause you a bitter disappointment. +Why I send for you is, to see whether I cannot do something for you to +make you happy, in spite of that cruel disappointment.” + +Not a word from Reginald. + +“Mr. Bassett--forgive me, if you can--for I am the most miserable woman +in England--you are not the heir to this place; you are not Sir Charles +Bassett's son.” + +“What!” shouted the young man. + +Her fortitude gave way for a moment. She shook her head, in +confirmation of what she had said, and hid her burning face and +scalding tears in her white and wasted hands. + +There was a long silence. + +Reginald was asking himself if this could be true, or was it a maneuver +to put her favorite Compton over his head. + +Lady Bassett looked up, and saw this paltry suspicion in his face. She +dried her tears directly, and went to a bureau, unlocked it, and +produced the manuscript confession she had prepared for her husband. + +She bade Reginald observe the superscription and the date. + +When he had done so, she took her scissors and opened it for him. + +“Read what I wrote to my beloved husband at a time when I expected soon +to appear before my Judge.” + +She then sank upon the sofa, and lay there like a log; only, from time +to time, during the long reading, tears trickled from her eyes. + +Reginald read the whole story, and saw the facts must be true: more +than that, being young, and a man, he could not entirely resist the +charm of a narrative in which a lady told at full the love, the grief, +the terror, the sufferings, of her heart, and the terrible temptation +under which she had gone astray. + +He laid it down at last, and drew a long breath. + +“It's a devil of a job for _me,”_ said he; “but I can't blame you. You +sold that Dick Bassett, and I hate him. But what is to become of _me?”_ + +“What I offer you is a life in which you will be happier than you ever +could be at Huntercombe. I mean to buy you vast pasture-fields in +Australia, and cattle to feed. Those noble pastures will be bounded +only by wild forests and hills. You will have swift horses to ride over +your own domain, or to gallop hundreds of miles at a stretch, if you +like. No confinement there; no fences and boundaries; all as free as +air. No monotony: one week you can dig for gold, another you can ride +among your flocks, another you can hunt. All this in a climate so +delightful that you can lie all night in the open air, without a +blanket, under a new firmament of stars, not one of which illumines the +dull nights of Europe.” + +The bait was too tempting. “Well, you _are_ the right sort,” cried +Reginald. + +But presently he began to doubt. “But all that will cost a lot of +money.” + +“It will, but I have a great deal of money.” + +Reginald thought, and said, suspiciously, “I don't know why you should +do all this for me.” + +“Do you not? What! when I have brought you into this family, and +encouraged you in such vast expectations, could I, in honor and common +humanity, let you fall into poverty and neglect? No. I have many +thousand pounds, all my own, and you will have them all, and perhaps +waste them all; but it will take you some time, because, while you are +wasting, I shall be saving more for you.” + +Then there was a pause, each waiting for the other. + +Then Lady Bassett said, quietly, and with great apparent composure, “Of +course there is a condition attached to all this.” + +“What is that?” + +“I must receive from you a written paper, signed by yourself and by +Mrs. Meyrick, acknowledging that you are not Sir Charles's son, but +distinctly pledging yourself to keep the secret so long as I continue +to furnish you with the means of living. You hesitate. Is it not fair?” + +“Well, it looks fair; but it is an awkward thing, signing a paper of +that sort.” + +“You doubt me, sir; you think that, because I have told one great +falsehood, from good but erring motives, I may break faith with you. Do +not insult me with these doubts, sir. Try and understand that there are +ladies and gentlemen in the world, though you prefer gypsies. Have you +forgotten that night when you laid me under so deep a debt, and I told +you I never would forget it? From that day was I not always your +friend? was I not always the one to make excuses for you?” + +Reginald assented to that. + +“Then trust me. I pledge you my honor that I am this day the best +friend you ever had, or ever can have. Refuse to sign that paper, and I +shall soon be in my grave, leaving behind me my confession, and other +evidence, on which you will be dismissed from this house with ignominy, +and without a farthing; for your best friend will be dead, and you will +have killed her.” + +He looked at her full: he said, with a shade of compunction, “I am not +a gentleman, but you are a lady. I'll trust you. I'll sign anything you +like.” + +“That confidence becomes you,” said Lady Bassett; “and now I have no +objection to show you I deserve it. Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, by +which you may learn I have already placed three thousand pounds to his +account, to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where he +has many confidential friends; and this is a check for five hundred +pounds I drew in your favor yesterday. Do me the favor to take it.” + +He did her that favor with sparkling eyes. + +“Now here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your signature will be +of little value to me without Mary Meyrick's.” + +“Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her.” + +“Are you sure? Men can be brought to take a dispassionate view of their +own interest, but women are not so wise. Take it, and try her. If she +refuses, bring her to me _directly._ Do you understand? Otherwise, in +one fatal hour, her tongue will ruin _you,_ and destroy me.” + +Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. Meyrick, and told +her, in an off-hand way, she must sign that paper directly. + +She looked at it and turned very white, but went on her guard directly. + +“Sign such a wicked lie as that!” said she. “That I never will. You +_are_ his son, and Huntercombe shall be yours. She is an unnatural +mother.” + +“Gammon!” said Reginald. “You might as well say a fox is the son of a +gander. Come now; I am not going to let you cut my throat with your +tongue. Sign at once, or else come to her this moment and tell her so.” + +“That I will,” said Mary Meyrick, “and give her my mind.” + + + +This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she cast eyes upon +Lady Bassett, and saw how wan and worn she looked. + +She moderated her violence, and said, sullenly, “Sorry to gainsay +_you,_ my lady, and you so ill, but this is a paper I never can sign. +It would rob him of Huntercombe. I'd sooner cut my hand off at the +wrist.” + +“Nonsense, Mary!” said Lady Bassett, contemptuously. + +She then proceeded to reason with her, but it was no use. Mary would +not listen to reason, and defied her at last in a loud voice. + +“Very well,” said Lady Bassett. “Then since you will not do it my way, +it shall be done another way. I shall put my confession in Sir +Charles's hands, and insist on his dismissing him from the house, and +you from your farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended for +Reginald I shall leave to Compton.” + +“These are idle words, my lady. You daren't.” + +“I dare anything when once I make up my mind to die.” + +She rang the bell. + +Mary Meyrick affected contempt. + +A servant came to the door. + +“Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +“DON'T you be a fool,” said Reginald to his nurse. + +“Sir Charles will send you to prison for it,” said Lady Bassett. + +“For what I done along with you?” + +“Oh, he will not punish his wife; he will look out for some other +victim.” + +“Sign, you d--d old fool!” cried Reginald, seizing Mary Meyrick roughly +by the arm. + +Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of majestic +horror. She held up her hand, and said, “Do not dare to lay a finger on +her!” + +Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign the paper. + +While she was signing it, Sir Charles's step was heard in the corridor. + +He knocked at the door just as she signed. Reginald had signed already. + +Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, and the book into +the bureau, and said “Come in,” with an appearance of composure belied +by her beating heart. + +“Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear.” + +In those few seconds so perfect a liar as Mary Meyrick had quite +recovered herself. + +“If you please, sir,” said she, “I be come to ast if you will give us a +new lease, for ourn it is run out.” + +“You had better talk to the steward about that.” + +“Very well, sir,” and she made her courtesy. + +Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do. + +“My dear,” said Lady Bassett, “Reginald has come to bid us good-by. He +is going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and take his advice, if you have no +objection.” + +“None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with more respect than he +does mine.” + +Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, when Lady Bassett +said, “Won't you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away?” + +He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his ear, “Be true to +me, as I will be to you.” + +Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with exhaustion. She +lay on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat beside her, and made her drink a +glass of wine. + +She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she slept: a load was +off her mind for the present. + +Next day she was so much better she came down to dinner. + +What she now hoped was, that entire separation, coupled with the memory +of the boy's misdeeds, would cure Sir Charles entirely of his affection +for Reginald; and so that, after about twenty years more of conjugal +fidelity, she might find courage to reveal to her husband the fault of +her youth at a time when all its good results remained to help excuse +it, and all its bad results had vanished. + +Such was the plan this extraordinary woman conceived, and its success +so far had a wonderful effect on her health. + +But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear either from Reginald +or Mr. Rolfe. That made her a little anxious. + +On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry flush on his brow, +whether she had not sent Reginald up to London. + +“Yes, dear,” said Lady Bassett. + +“Well, he is not gone, then.” + +“Oh!” + +“He is living at his nurse's. I saw him talking to an old gypsy that +lives on the farm.” + +Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing. + +“Never mind, mamma,” said Compton. “Your other children must love you +all the more.” + +This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. She divined bad +faith and all manner of treachery, none the less terrible for being +vague. + +Down went her health again and her short-lived repose. + +Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm on a little +business of his own. + +He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, and was waiting +for a dark and gusty night. + +He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, spite and greed, +especially the latter. He would never have undertaken it with a 500 +pound check in his pocket; but some minds are so constituted they +cannot forego a bad design once formed: so Mr. Reginald persisted, +though one great motive existed no longer. + +On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him. + +The night was favorable, and at about two o'clock Reginald and the +foreign gent stood under Richard Bassett's dining-room window, with +crape over their eyes, noses and mouths, and all manner of unlawful +implements in their pockets. + +The foreign gent prized the shutters open with a little crowbar; he +then, with a glazier's diamond, soon cut out a small pane, inserted a +cunning hand and opened the window. + +Then Reginald gave him a leg, and he got into the room. + +The agile youth followed him without assistance. + +They lighted a sort of bull's-eye, and poured the concentrated light on +the cupboard door, behind which lay the treasure of glorious old plate. + +Then the foreign gent produced his skeleton keys, and after several +ineffective trials, opened the door softly and revealed the glittering +booty. + +At sight of it the foreign gent could not suppress an ejaculation, but +the younger one clapped his hand before his mouth hurriedly. + +The foreign gent unrolled a sort of green baize apron he had round him; +it was, in reality, a bag. + +Into this receptacle the pair conveyed one piece of plate after another +with surprising dexterity, rapidity, and noiseless-ness. When it was +full, they began to fill the deep pockets of their shooting-jackets. + +While thus employed, they heard a rapid footstep, and Richard Bassett +opened the door. He was in his trousers and shirt, and had a pistol in +his hand. + +At sight of him Reginald uttered a cry of dismay; the foreign gent blew +out the light. + +Richard Bassett, among whose faults want of personal courage was not +one, rushed forward and collared Reginald. + +But the foreign gent had raised the crowbar to defend himself, and +struck him a blow on the head that made him stagger back. + +The foreign gent seized this opportunity, and ran at once at the window +and jumped at it. + +If Reginald had been first, he would have gone through like a cat, but +the foreign gent, older, and obstructed by the contents of his pocket, +higgled and stuck a few seconds in the window. + +That brief delay was fatal; Richard Bassett leveled his pistol +deliberately at him, fired, and sent a ball through his shoulder; he +fell like a log upon the ground outside. + +Richard then leveled another barrel at Reginald, but he howled out for +quarter, and was immediately captured, and with the assistance of the +brave Jessie, who now came boldly to her master's aid, his hands were +tied behind him and he was made prisoner, with the stolen articles in +his pocket. + +When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said it was only a lark; he +never meant to keep anything. He offered a hundred pounds down if they +would let him off. + +But there was no mercy for him. + +Richard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected the prisoner. He +lifted his crape veil, and said “Oho!” + +“You see it was only a lark,” said Reginald, and shook in every limb. + +Richard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He gave Jessie strict +orders to hold her tongue, and she and he between them took Reginald +and locked him up in a small room adjoining the kitchen. + +They then went to look for the other burglar. + +He had emptied his pockets of all the plate, and crawled away. It is +supposed he threw away the plate, either to soften Reginald's offense, +or in the belief that he had received his death wound, and should not +require silver vessels where he was going. + +Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, and told Jessie to +light the fire and make him a cup of coffee. + +He replaced all the plate, except the articles left in Reginald's +pocket. + +Then he went upstairs, and told his wife that burglars had broken into +the house, but had taken nothing; she was to give herself no anxiety. +He told her no more than this, for his dark and cruel nature had +already conceived an idea he did not care to communicate to her, on +account of the strong opposition he foresaw from so good a Christian: +besides, of late, since her daughter came home to back her, she had +spoken her mind more than once. + +He kept them then in the dark, and went downstairs again to his coffee. + +He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. + +All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from Huntercombe +returned to his mind; and now, with one masterstroke he would balance +them all. + +Yet he felt a little compunction. + +Active hostilities had ceased for many years. + +Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to his wife. The +blow he meditated was very cruel: would not his wife and daughter say +it was barbarous? Would not his own heart, the heart of a father, +reproach him afterward? + +These misgivings, that would have restrained a less obstinate man, +irritated Richard Bassett: he went into a rage, and said aloud, “I must +do it: I will do it, come what may.” + +He told Jessie he valued her much: she should have a black silk gown +for her courage and fidelity; but she must not be faithful by halves. +She must not breathe one word to any soul in the house that the burglar +was there under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her out of the +house that moment. + +“Hets!” said the woman, “der ye think I canna haud my whist, when the +maister bids me? I'm nae great clasher at ony time, for my pairt.” + +At seven o'clock in the morning he sent a note to Sir Charles Bassett, +to say that his house had been attacked last night by two armed +burglars; he and his people had captured one, and wished to take him +before a magistrate at once, since his house was not a fit place to +hold him secure. He concluded Sir Charles would not refuse him the +benefit of the law, however obnoxious he might be. + +Sir Charles's lips curled with contempt at the man who was not ashamed +to put such a doubt on paper. + +However, he wrote back a civil line, to say that of course he was at +Mr. Bassett's service, and would be in his justice-room at nine +o'clock. + +Meantime, Mr. Richard Bassett went for the constable and an assistant; +but, even to them, he would not say precisely what he wanted them for. + +His plan was to march an unknown burglar, with his crape on his face, +into Sir Charles's study, give his evidence, and then reveal the son to +the father. + +Jessie managed to hold her tongue for an hour or two, and nothing +occurred at Highmore or in Huntercombe to interfere with Richard +Bassett's barbarous revenge. + +Meantime, however, something remarkable had occurred at the distance of +a mile and a quarter. + +Mrs. Meyrick breakfasted habitually at eight o'clock. + +Reginald did not appear. + +Mrs. Meyrick went to his room, and satisfied herself he had not passed +the night there. + +Then she went to the foreign gent's shed. + +He was not there. + +Then she went out, and called loudly to them both. + +No answer. + +Then she went into the nearest meadow, to see if they were in sight. + +The first thing she saw was the foreign gent staggering toward her. + +“Drunk!” said she, and went to scold him; but, when she got nearer, she +saw at once that something very serious had happened. His dark face was +bloodless and awful, and he could hardly drag his limbs along; indeed +they had failed him a score of times between Highmore and that place. + +Just as she came up with him he sank once more to the ground, and +turned up two despairing eyes toward her. + +“Oh, daddy! what is it? Where's Reginald? Whatever have they done to +you?” + +“Brandy!” groaned the wounded man. + +She flew into the house, and returned in a moment with a bottle. She +put it to his lips. + +He revived and told her all, in a few words. + +“The young bloke and I went to crack a crib. I'm shot with a bullet. +Hide me in that loose hay there; leave me the bottle, and let nobody +come nigh me. The beak will be after me very soon.” + +Then Mrs. Meyrick, being a very strong woman, dragged him to the +haystack, and covered him with loose hay. + +“Now,” said she, trembling, “where's my boy?” + +“He's nabbed.” + +“Oh!” + +“And he'll be lagged, unless you can beg him off.” + +Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream. + +“You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him with five hundred pounds +in his pocket, and my lady's favor. Oh, why did we not keep our word +with her? She was the wisest, and our best friend. But it is all your +doing; you are the devil that tempted him, you old villain!” + +“Don't miscall me,” said the gypsy. + +“Not miscall you, when you have run away, and left them to take my boy +to jail! No word is bad enough for you, you villain!” + +_“I'm your father--and a dying man,”_ said the old gypsy, calmly, and +folded his hands upon his breast with Oriental composure and decency. + +The woman threw herself on her knees. + +“Forgive me, father--tell me, where is he?” + +“Highmore House.” + +At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild horror, she uttered a +loud scream, and flew into the house. + +In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore. + +She reached that house, knocked hastily at the door, and said she must +see Mr. Richard Bassett that moment. + +“He is just gone out,” said the maid. + +“Where to?” + +The girl knew her, and began to gossip. “Why, to Huntercombe Hall. +What! haven't you heard, Mrs. Meyrick? Master caught a robber last +night. Laws! you should have seen him: he have got crape all over his +face; and master, and the constable, and Mr. Musters, they be all gone +with him to Sir Charles, for to have him committed--the villain! Why, +what ails the woman?” + +For Mary Meyrick turned her back on the speaker, and rushed away in a +moment. + +She went through the kitchen at Huntercombe: she was so well known +there, nobody objected: she flew up the stairs, and into Lady Bassett's +bedroom. “Oh, my lady! my lady!” + +Lady Bassett screamed, at her sudden entrance and wild appearance. + +Mary Meyrick told her all in a few wild words. She wrung her hands with +a great fear. + +“It's no time for that,” cried Mary, fiercely. “Come down this moment, +and save him.” + +“How can I?” + +“You must! You shall!” cried the other. “Don't ask me how. Don't sit +wringing your hands, woman. If you are not there in five minutes to +save him, I'll tell all.” + +“Have mercy on me!” cried Lady Bassett. “I gave him money, I sent him +away. It's not my fault.” + +“No matter; he must be saved, or I'll ruin you. I can't stay here: I +must be there, and so must you.” + +She rushed down the stairs, and tried to get into the justice-room, but +admission was refused her. + +Then she gave a sort of wild snarl, and ran round to the small room +adjoining the justice-room. Through this she penetrated, and entered +the justice-room, but not in time to prevent the evidence from being +laid before Sir Charles. + +What took place in the meantime was briefly this: The prisoner, +handcuffed now instead of tied, was introduced between the constable +and his assistant; the door was locked, and Sir Charles received Mr. +Bassett with a ceremonious bow, seated himself, and begged Mr. Bassett +to be seated. + +“Thank you,” said Mr. Bassett, but did not seat himself. He stood +before the prisoner and gave his evidence; during which the prisoner's +knees were seen to knock together with terror: he was a young man fit +for folly, but not for felony. + +Said Richard Bassett, “I have a cupboard containing family plate. It is +valuable, and some years ago I passed a piece of catgut from the door +through the ceiling to a bell at my bedside. + +“Very late last night the bell sounded. I flung on my trousers, and +went down with a pistol. I caught two burglars in the act of rifling +the cupboard. I went to collar one; he struck me on the head with a +crowbar--constable, show the crowbar--I staggered, but recovered +myself, and fired at one of the burglars: he was just struggling +through the window. He fell, and I thought he was dead, but he got +away. I secured the other, and here he is--just as he was when I took +him. Constable, search his pockets.” + +The constable did so, and produced therefrom several pieces of silver +plate stamped with the Bassett arms. + +“My servant here can confirm this,” added Mr. Bassett. + +“It is not necessary here,” said Sir Charles. Then to the criminal, +“Have you anything to say?” + +“It was only a lark,” quavered the poor wretch. + +“I would not advise you to say that where you are going.” + +He then, while writing out the warrant, said, as a matter of course, +“Remove his mask.” + +The constable lifted it, and started back with a shout of dismay and +surprise: Jessie screamed. + +Sir Charles looked up, and saw in the burglar he was committing for +trial his first-born, the heir to his house and his lands. + +The pen fell from Sir Charles's fingers, and he stared at the wan face, +and wild, imploring eyes that stared at him. + +He stared at the lad, and then put his hand to his heart, and that +heart seemed to die within him. + +There was a silence, and a horror fell on all. Even Richard Bassett +quailed at what he had done. + +“Ah! cruel man! cruel man!” moaned the broken father. “God judge you +for this--as now I must judge my unhappy son. Mr. Bassett, it matters +little to you what magistrate commits you, and I must keep my oath. I +am--going--to set you an--example, by signing a warrant--” + +“No, no, no!” cried a woman's voice, and Mary Meyrick rushed into the +room. + +Every person there thought he knew Mary Meyrick; yet she was like a +stranger to them now. There was that in her heart at that awful moment +which transfigured a handsome but vulgar woman into a superior being. +Her cheek was pale, her black eyes large, and her mellow voice had a +magic power. “You don't know what you are doing!” she cried. “Go no +farther, or you will all curse the hand that harmed a hair of his head; +you, most of all, Richard Bassett.” + +Sir Charles, in any other case, would have sent her out of the room; +but, in his misery, he caught at the straw. + +“Speak out, woman,” he said, “and save the wretched boy, if you can. I +see no way.” + +“There are things it is not fit to speak before all the world. Bid +those men go, and I'll open your eyes that stay.” + +Then Richard Bassett foresaw another triumph, so he told the constable +and his man they had better retire for a few minutes, “while,” said he, +with a sneer, “these wonderful revelations are being made.” + +When they were gone, Mary turned to Richard Bassett, and said “Why do +you want him sent to prison?--to spite Sir Charles here, to stab his +heart through his son.” + +Sir Charles groaned aloud. + +The woman heard, and thought of many things. She flung herself on her +knees, and seized his hand. “Don't you cry, my dear old master; mine is +the only heart shall bleed. HE IS NOT YOUR SON.” + +“What!” cried Sir Charles, in a terrible voice. + +“That is no news to me,” said Richard. “He is more like the parson than +Sir Charles Bassett.” + +“For shame! for shame!” cried Mary Meyrick. “Oh, it becomes you to give +fathers to children when you don't know your own flesh and blood! He is +YOUR SON, RICHARD BASSETT.” + + + +_“My_ son!” roared Bassett, in utter amazement. + +“Ay. I should know; FOR I AM HIS MOTHER.” + +This astounding statement was uttered with all the majesty of truth, +and when she said “I am his mother,” the voice turned tender all in a +moment. + +They were all paralyzed; and, absorbed in this strange revelation, did +not hear a tottering footstep: a woman, pale as a corpse, and with eyes +glaring large, stood among them, all in a moment, as if a ghost had +risen from the earth. + +It was Lady Bassett. + +At sight of her, Sir Charles awoke from the confusion and amazement +into which Mary had thrown him, and said, “Ah--! Bella, do you hear +what she says, that he is not our son? What, then, have you agreed with +your servant to deceive your husband?” + +Lady Bassett gasped, and tried to speak; but before the words would +come, the sight of her corpse-like face and miserable agony moved Mary +Wells, and she snatched the words out of her mouth. + +“What is the use of questioning _her?_ She knows no more than you do. I +done it all; and done it for the best. My lady's child died; I hid that +from her; for I knew it would kill her, and keep you in a mad-house. I +done for the best: I put my live child by her side, and she knew no +better. As time went on, and the boy so dark, she suspected; but know +it she couldn't till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there stands +his cruel father; cruel to me, and cruel to him. But don't you dare to +harm him; I've got all your letters, promising me marriage; I'll take +them to your wife and daughter, and they shall know it is your own +flesh and blood you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to threaten +him! my darling, speak him fair; he is your father; he may have a bit +of nature in his heart somewhere, though I could never find it.” + +The young man put his hands together, like an Oriental, and said, +“Forgive me,” then sank at Richard Bassett's knees. + +Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife's arm and led her, +trembling like an aspen leaf, from the room. + +Perhaps the prayers of Reginald and the tears of his mother would alone +have sufficed to soften Richard Bassett, but the threat of exposure to +his wife and daughter did no harm. The three soon came to terms. + +Reginald to be liberated on condition of going to London by the next +train, and never setting his foot in that parish again. His mother to +go with him, and see him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herself +not to reveal the boy's real parentage to any other soul in the world. + +This being settled, Richard Bassett called the constable in, and said +the young gentleman had satisfied him that it was a practical joke, +though a very dangerous one, and he withdrew the charge of felony. + +The constable said he must have Sir Charles's authority for that. + +A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released, +and Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, “Out of my +hands you go no more.” + +Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himself, +said, with deep feeling, “My poor boy, you can never be a stranger to +me. The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment. You see now +how folly glides into crime, and crime into punishment. Take this to +heart, and never again stray from the paths of honor. Lead an honorable +life; and, if you do, write to me as if I was still your father.” + +They retired, but Richard Bassett lingered, and hung his head. + +Sir Charles wondered what this inveterate foe could have to say now. + +At last Richard said, half sullenly, yet with a touch of compunction, +“Sir Charles, you have been more generous than I was. You have laid me +under an obligation.” + +Sir Charles bowed loftily. + +“You would double that obligation if you would prevail on Lady Bassett +to keep that old folly of mine secret from my wife and daughter. I am +truly ashamed of it; and, whatever my faults may have been, they love +and respect me.” + +“Mr. Bassett,” said Sir Charles, “my son Compton must be told that he +is my heir; but no details injurious to you shall transpire: you may +count on absolute secrecy from Lady Bassett and myself.” + +“Sir Charles,” said Richard Bassett, faltering for a moment, “I am very +much obliged to you, and I begin to be sorry we are enemies. +Good-morning.” + +The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed Lady Bassett on +the spot. She lay all that day in a state of utter prostration. + +Meantime Sir Charles put this and that together, but said nothing. He +spoke cheerfully and philosophically to his wife--said it had been a +fearful blow, terrible wrench: but it was all for the best; such a son +as that would have broken his heart before long. + +“Ah, but your wasted affections!” groaned Lady Bassett; and her tears +streamed at the thought. + +Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while, “Is affection ever +entirely wasted? My love for that young fool enlarged my heart. There +was a time he did me a deal of good.” + +But next day, having only herself to think of now, Lady Bassett could +live no longer under the load of deceit. She told Sir Charles Mary +Meyrick had deceived him. “Read this,” she said, “and see what your +miserable wife has done, who loved you to madness and crime.” + +Sir Charles looked at her, and saw in her wasted form and her face +that, if he did read it, he should kill her; so he played the man: he +restrained himself by a mighty effort, and said, “My dear, excuse me; +but on this matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick's exactness than +in yours. Besides, I know your heart, and don't care to be told of your +errors in judgment, no, not even by yourself. Sorry to offend an +authoress; but I decline to read your book, and, more than that, I +forbid you the subject entirely for the next thirty years, at least. +Let by-gones be by-gones.” + + + +That eventful morning Mr. Rutland called and proposed to Ruperta. She +declined politely, but firmly. + +She told Mrs. Bassett, and Mrs. Bassett told Richard in a nervous way, +but his answer surprised her. He said he was very glad of it; Ruperta +could do better. + +Mrs. Bassett could not resist the pleasure of telling Lady Bassett. She +went over on purpose, with her husband's consent. + +Lady Bassett asked to see Ruperta. “By all means,” said Richard +Bassett, graciously. + +On her return to Highmore, Ruperta asked leave to go to the Hall every +day and nurse Lady Bassett. “They will let her die else,” said she. +Richard Bassett assented to that, too. Ruperta, for some weeks, almost +lived at the Hall, and in this emergency revealed great qualities. As +the malevolent small-pox, passing through the gentle cow, comes out the +sovereign cow-pox, so, in this gracious nature, her father's vices +turned to their kindred virtues; his obstinacy of purpose shone here a +noble constancy; his audacity became candor, and his cunning wisdom. +Her intelligence saw at once that Lady Bassett was pining to death, and +a weak-minded nurse would be fatal: she was all smiles and brightness, +and neglected no means to encourage the patient. + +With this view, she promised to plight her faith to Compton the moment +Lady Bassett should be restored to health; and so, with hopes and +smiles, and the novelty of a daughter's love, she fought with death for +Lady Bassett, and at last she won the desperate battle. + +This did Richard Bassett's daughter for her father's late enemy. + +The grateful husband wrote to Bassett, and now acknowledged _his_ +obligation. + +A civil, mock-modest reply from Richard Bassett. + +From this things went on step by step, till at last Compton and +Ruperta, at eighteen years of age, were formally betrothed. + +Thus the children's love wore out the father's hate. + +That love, so troubled at the outset, left, by degrees, the region of +romance, and rippled smoothly through green, flowery meadows. + +Ruperta showed her lover one more phase of girlhood; she, who had been +a precocious and forward child, and then a shy and silent girl, came +out now a bright and witty young woman, full of vivacity, modesty, and +sensibility. Time cured Compton of his one defect. Ruperta stopped +growing at fifteen, but Compton went slowly on; caught her at +seventeen, and at nineteen had passed her by a head. He won a +scholarship at Oxford, he rowed in college races, and at last in the +University race on the Thames. + +Ruperta stood, in peerless beauty, dark blue from throat to feet, and +saw his boat astern of his rival, saw it come up with, and creep ahead, +amid the roars of the multitude. When she saw her lover, with bare +corded arms, as brown as a berry, and set teeth, filling his glorious +part in that manly struggle within eight yards of her, she confessed he +was not a boy now. + +But Lady Bassett accepted no such evidence: being pestered to let them +marry at twenty years of age, she clogged her consent with one +condition--they must live three years at Huntercombe as man and wife. + +“No boy of twenty,” said she, “can understand a young woman of that +age. I must be in the house to prevent a single misunderstanding +between my beloved children.” + +The young people, who both adored her, voted the condition reasonable. +They were married, and a wing of the spacious building allotted to +them. + +For their sakes let us hope that their wedded life, now happily +commenced, will furnish me no materials for another tale: the happiest +lives are uneventful. + +The foreign gent recovered his wound, but acquired rheumatism and a +dislike for midnight expeditions. + +Reginald galloped a year or two over seven hundred miles of colony, +sowing his wild oats as he flew, but is now a prosperous squatter, very +fond of sleeping in the open air. England was not big enough for the +bold Bohemian. He does very well where he is. + +Old Meyrick died, and left his wife a little estate in the next county. +Drake asked her hand at the funeral. She married him in six months, and +migrated to the estate in question; for Sir Charles refused her a lease +of his farm, not choosing to have her near him. + +Her new abode was in the next parish to her sister's. + +La Marsh set herself to convert Mary, and often exhorted her to +penitence; she bore this pretty well for some time, being overawed by +old reminiscences of sisterly superiority: but at last her vanity +rebelled. “Repent! and Repent!” cried she. “Why you be like a cuckoo, +all in one song. One would think I had been and robbed a church. 'Tis +all very well for you to repent, as led a fastish life at starting: +_but I never done nothing as I'm ashamed on.”_ + + + +Richard Bassett said one day to Wheeler, “Old fellow, there is not a +worse poison than Hate. It has made me old before my time. And what +does it all come to? We might just as well have kept quiet; for my +grandson will inherit Huntercombe and Bassett, after all--” + +“Thanks to the girl you would not ring the bells for.” + + + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett lead a peaceful life after all their +troubles, and renew their youth in their children, of whom Ruperta is +one, and as dear as any. + +Yet there is a pensive and humble air about Lady Bassett, which shows +she still expiates her fault, though she knows it will always be +ignored by him for whose sake she sinned. + +In summing her up, it may be as well to compare this with the unmixed +self-complacency of Mrs. Drake. + +You men and women, who judge this Bella Bassett, be firm, and do not +let her amiable qualities or her good intentions blind you in a plain +matter of right and wrong: be charitable, and ask yourselves how often +in your lives you have seen yourselves, or any other human being, +resist a terrible temptation. + +My experience is, that we resist other people's temptations nobly, and +succumb to our own. + +So let me end with a line of England's gentlest satirist-- + +“Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be.” + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Terrible Temptation, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + +***** This file should be named 7895-0.txt or 7895-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/9/7895/ + +Produced by James Rusk + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Terrible Temptation + A Story of To-Day + +Author: Charles Reade + +Release Date: July 22, 2009 [EBook #7895] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION + </h1> + <h2> + A STORY OF TO-DAY + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Charles Reade + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <h4> + THE morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, London. + </h4> + <p> + A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow on the broad + mantel-piece, and made himself agreeable to a young lady, seated a little + way off, playing at work. + </p> + <p> + To the ear he was only conversing, but his eyes dwelt on her with loving + admiration all the time. Her posture was favorable to this furtive + inspection, for she leaned her fair head over her work with a pretty, + modest, demure air, that seemed to say, “I suspect I am being admired: I + will not look to see: I might have to check it.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman's features were ordinary, except his brow—that had + power in it—but he had the beauty of color; his sunburned features + glowed with health, and his eye was bright. On the whole, rather + good-looking when he smiled, but ugly when he frowned; for his frown was a + scowl, and betrayed a remarkable power of hating. + </p> + <p> + Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious masses of dark red + hair, and a dazzling white neck to set it off; large, dove-like eyes, and + a blooming oval face, which would have been classical if her lips had been + thin and finely chiseled; but here came in her Anglo-Saxon breed, and + spared society a Minerva by giving her two full and rosy lips. They made a + smallish mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide when they smiled, and + ravished the beholder with long, even rows of dazzling white teeth. + </p> + <p> + Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all commanding. There are + people whose very bodies express character; and this tall, supple, + graceful frame of Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did her + gestures. She would take up or put down her own scissors half timidly, and + look around before threading her needle, as if to see whether any soul + objected. Her favorite word was “May I?” with a stress on the “May,” and + she used it where most girls would say “I will,” or nothing, and do it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richard Bassett was in love with her, and also conscious that her + fifteen thousand pounds would be a fine addition to his present income, + which was small, though his distant expectations were great. As he had + known her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable than inflammable, + he had the prudence to proceed by degrees; and that is why, though his + eyes gloated on her, he merely regaled her with the gossip of the day, not + worth recording here. But when he had actually taken his hat to go, Bella + Bruce put him a question that had been on her mind the whole time, for + which reason she had reserved it to the very last moment. + </p> + <p> + “Is Sir Charles Bassett in town?” said she, mighty carelessly, but bending + a little lower over her embroidery. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know,” said Richard Bassett, with such a sudden brevity and + asperity that Miss Bruce looked up and opened her lovely eyes. Mr. Richard + Bassett replied to this mute inquiry, “We don't speak.” Then, after a + pause, “He has robbed me of my inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Bassett!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Bruce, the Bassett and Huntercombe estates were mine by right + of birth. My father was the eldest son, and they were entailed on him. But + Sir Charles's father persuaded my old, doting grandfather to cut off the + entail, and settle the estates on him and his heirs; and so they robbed me + of every acre they could. Luckily my little estate of Highmore was settled + on my mother and her issue too tight for the villains to undo.” + </p> + <p> + These harsh expressions, applied to his own kin, and the abruptness and + heat they were uttered with, surprised and repelled his gentle listener. + She shrank a little away from him. He observed it. She replied not to his + words, but to her own thought: + </p> + <p> + “But, after all, it does seem hard.” She added, with a little fervor, “But + it wasn't poor Sir Charles's doing, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “He is content to reap the benefit,” said Richard Bassett, sternly. + </p> + <p> + Then, finding he was making a sorry impression, he tried to get away from + the subject. I say tried, for till a man can double like a hare he will + never get away from his hobby. “Excuse me,” said he; “I ought never to + speak about it. Let us talk of something else. You cannot enter into my + feelings; it makes my blood boil. Oh, Miss Bruce! you can't conceive what + a disinherited man feels—and I live at the very door: his old trees, + that ought to be mine, fling their shadows over my little flower beds; the + sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look down on my cottage; his acres of + lawn run up to my little garden, and nothing but a ha-ha between us.” + </p> + <p> + “It <i>is</i> hard,” said Miss Bruce, composedly; not that she entered + into a hardship of this vulgar sort, but it was her nature to soothe and + please people. + </p> + <p> + “Hard!” cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even this faint sympathy; “it + would be unendurable but for one thing—I shall have my own some + day.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that,” said the lady; “but how?” + </p> + <p> + “By outliving the wrongful heir.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of men's passions. “Oh, + Mr. Bassett!” said she—and there was something pure and holy in the + look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuous speaker—“pray + do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. And remember life and + death are not in our hands. Besides—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?”' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles might—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Might he not—marry—and have children?” This with more + hesitation and a deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends. Charles + is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton—fast at Oxford—fast in + London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three years + younger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man. + Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they are + mine—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles Bassett!” trumpeted a servant at the door; and then waited, + prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught blushing so + red with one gentleman, would be at home to another. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring what + Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she + said, hurriedly: “You should not blame him for the faults of others. There—I + have not been long acquainted with either, and am little entitled to inter—But + it is such a pity you are not friends. He is very good, I assure you, and + very nice. Let me reconcile you two. <i>May</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed—if I + may be permitted—in a way to dissolve a bear. + </p> + <p> + But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is placable; it was a man + with a hobby grievance; so he replied in character: + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible so long as he keeps me out of my own.” He had the + grace, however, to add, half sullenly, “Excuse me; I feel I have been too + vehement.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind <i>that;</i> it was very natural.—I am at home, + then,” said she to the servant. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and said, with no + little agitation, “I was not aware he visits you. One word—don't let + his ill-gotten acres make you quite forget the disinherited one.” And so + he left her, with an imploring look. + </p> + <p> + She felt red with all this, so she slipped out at another door, to cool + her cheeks and imprison a stray curl for Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + He strolled into the empty room, with the easy, languid air of fashion. + His features were well cut, and had some nobility; but his sickly + complexion and the lines under his eyes told a tale of dissipation. He + appeared ten years older than he was, and thoroughly <i>blase.</i> + </p> + <p> + Yet when Miss Bruce entered the room with a smile and a little blush, he + brightened up and looked handsome, and greeted her with momentary warmth. + </p> + <p> + After the usual inquiries she asked him if he had met any body. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Here; just now.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What, nobody at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Only my sulky cousin; I don't call him anybody,” drawled Sir Charles, who + was now relapsing into his normal condition of semi-apathy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Miss Bruce gayly, “you must expect him to be a little cross. It + is not so very nice to be disinherited, let me tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “And who has disinherited the fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I forget; but you disinherited him among you. Never mind; it can't be + helped now. When did you come back to town? I didn't see you at Lady + d'Arcy's ball, did I?” + </p> + <p> + “You did not, unfortunately for me; but you would if I had known you were + to be there. But about Richard: he may tell you what he likes, but he was + not disinherited; he was bought out. The fact is, his father was + uncommonly fast. My grandfather paid his debts again and again; but at + last the old gentleman found he was dealing with the Jews for his + reversion. Then there was an awful row. It ended in my grandfather + outbidding the Jews. He bought the reversion of his estate from his own + son for a large sum of money (he had to raise it by mortgages); then they + cut off the entail between them, and he entailed the mortgaged estate on + his other son, and his grandson (that was me), and on my heir-at-law. + Richard's father squandered his thirty thousand pounds before he died; my + father husbanded the estates, got into Parliament, and they put a tail to + his name.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a languid composure + that contrasted deliciously with Richard's heat in telling the story his + way (to be sure, Sir Charles had got Huntercombe and Bassett, and it is + easier to be philosophical on the right side of the boundary hedge), and + wound up with a sort of corollary: “Dick Bassett suffers by his father's + vices, and I profit by mine's virtues. Where's the injustice?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the better.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles demurred. “Oh, I don't want to quarrel with the fellow: but he + is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery estate, all in + broken patches. He shoots my pheasants in the unfairest way.” Here the + landed proprietor showed real irritation, but only for a moment. He + concluded calmly, “The fact is, he is not quite a gentleman. Fancy his + coming and whining to you about our family affairs, and then telling you a + falsehood!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; he did not mean. It was his way of looking at things. You can + afford to forgive him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not if he sets you against me.” + </p> + <p> + “But he cannot do that. The more any one was to speak against you, the + more I—of course.” + </p> + <p> + This admission fired Sir Charles; he drew nearer, and, thanks to his + cousin's interference, spoke the language of love more warmly and directly + than he had ever done before. + </p> + <p> + The lady blushed, and defended herself feebly. Sir Charles grew warmer, + and at last elicited from her a timid but tender avowal, that made him + supremely happy. + </p> + <p> + When he left her this brief ecstasy was succeeded by regrets on account of + the years he had wasted in follies and intrigues. + </p> + <p> + He smoked five cigars, and pondered the difference between the pure + creature who now honored him with her virgin affections and beauties of a + different character who had played their parts in his luxurious life. + </p> + <p> + After profound deliberation he sent for his solicitor. They lighted the + inevitable cigars, and the following observations struggled feebly out + along with the smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Oldfield, I'm going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear it, Sir Charles.” (Vision of settlements.) “It is a high + time you were.” (Puff-puff.) + </p> + <p> + “Want your advice and assistance first.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Must put down my pony-carriage now, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “A very proper retrenchment; but you can do that without my assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “There would be sure to be a row if I did. I dare say there will be as it + is. At any rate, I want to do the thing like a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Send 'em to Tattersall's.” (Puff.) + </p> + <p> + “And the girl that drives them in the park, and draws all the duchesses + and countesses at her tail—am I to send her to Tattersall's?” + (Puff.) + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is <i>her</i> you want to put down, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + SIR CHARLES and Mr. Oldfield settled that lady's retiring pension, and Mr. + Oldfield took the memoranda home, with instructions to prepare a draft + deed for Miss Somerset's approval. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Sir Charles visited Miss Bruce every day. Her affections for him + grew visibly, for being engaged gave her the courage to love. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett called pretty often; but one day he met Sir Charles on the + stairs, and scowled. + </p> + <p> + That scowl cost him dear, for Sir Charles thereupon represented to Bella + that a man with a grievance is a bore to the very eye, and asked her to + receive no more visits from his scowling cousin. The lady smiled, and + said, with soft complacency, “I obey.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles's gallantry was shocked. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't say 'obey.' It is a little favor I ventured to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “It is like you to ask what you have a right to command. I shall be out to + him in future, and to every one who is disagreeable to you. What! does + 'obey' frighten you from my lips? To me it is the sweetest in the + language. Oh, please let me 'obey' you! <i>May</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + Upon this, as vanity is seldom out of call, Sir Charles swelled like a + turkey-cock, and loftily consented to indulge Bella Bruce's strange + propensity. From that hour she was never at home to Mr. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + He began to suspect; and one day, after he had been kept out with the + loud, stolid “Not at home” of practiced mendacity, he watched, and saw Sir + Charles admitted. + </p> + <p> + He divined it all in a moment, and turned to wormwood. What! was he to be + robbed of the lady he loved—and her fifteen thousand pounds—by + the very man who had robbed him of his ancestral fields? He dwelt on the + double grievance till it nearly frenzied him. But he could do nothing: it + was his fate. His only hope was that Sir Charles, the arrant flirt, would + desert this beauty after a time, as he had the others. + </p> + <p> + But one afternoon, in the smoking-room of his club, a gentleman said to + him, “So your cousin Charles is engaged to the Yorkshire beauty, Bell + Bruce?” + </p> + <p> + “He is flirting with her, I believe,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the other; “they are engaged. I know it for a fact. They + are to be married next month.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richard Bassett digested this fresh pill in moody silence, while the + gentlemen of the club discussed the engagement with easy levity. They soon + passed to a topic of wider interest, viz., who was to succeed Sir Charles + with La Somerset. Bassett began to listen attentively, and learned for the + first time Sir Charles Bassett's connection with that lady, and also that + she was a woman of a daring nature and furious temper. At first he was + merely surprised; but soon hatred and jealousy whispered in his ear that + with these materials it must be possible to wound those who had wounded + him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Marsh, a young gentleman with a receding chin, and a mustache between + hay and straw, had taken great care to let them all know he was acquainted + with Miss Somerset. So Richard got Marsh alone, and sounded him. Could he + call upon the lady without ceremony? + </p> + <p> + “You won't get in. Her street door is jolly well guarded, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very curious to see her in her own house.” + </p> + <p> + “So are a good many fellows.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you not give me an introduction?” + </p> + <p> + Marsh shook his head sapiently for a considerable time, and with all this + shaking, as it appeared, out fell words of wisdom. “Don't see it. I'm + awfully spooney on her myself; and, you know, when a fellow introduces + another fellow, that fellow always cuts the other out.” Then, descending + from the words of the wise and their dark sayings to a petty but pertinent + fact, he added, <i>“Besides,</i> I'm only let in myself about once in five + times.” + </p> + <p> + “She gives herself wonderful airs, it seems,” said Bassett, rather + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Marsh fired up. “So would any woman that was as beautiful, and as witty + and as much run after as she is. Why she is a leader of fashion. Look at + all the ladies following her round the park. They used to drive on the + north side of the Serpentine. She just held up her finger, and now they + have cut the Serpentine, and followed her to the south drive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” said Bassett. “Ah then this is a great lady; a poor country + squire must not venture into her august presence.” He turned savagely on + his heel, and Marsh went and made sickly mirth at his expense. + </p> + <p> + By this means the matter soon came to the ears of old Mr. Woodgate, the + father of that club, and a genial gossip. He got hold of Bassett in the + dinner-room and examined him. “So you want an introduction to La Somerset, + and Marsh refuses—Marsh, hitherto celebrated for his weak head + rather than his hard heart?” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett nodded rather sullenly. He had not bargained for this + rapid publicity. + </p> + <p> + The venerable chief resumed: “We all consider Marsh's conduct unclubable + and a thing to be combined against. Wanted—an Anti-dog-in-the-manger + League. I'll introduce you to the Somerset.” + </p> + <p> + “What! do <i>you</i> visit her?” asked Bassett, in some astonishment. + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman held up his hands in droll disclaimer, and chuckled + merrily “No, no; I enjoy from the shore the disasters of my youthful + friends—that sacred pleasure is left me. Do you see that elegant + creature with the little auburn beard and mustache, waiting sweetly for + his dinner. He launched the Somerset.” + </p> + <p> + “Launched her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but for him she might have wasted her time breaking hearts and + slapping faces in some country village. He it was set her devastating + society; and with his aid she shall devastate you.—Vandeleur, will + you join Bassett and me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vandeleur, with ready grace, said he should be delighted, and they + dined together accordingly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vandeleur, six feet high, lank, but graceful as a panther, and the + pink of politeness, was, beneath his varnish, one of the wildest young men + in London—gambler, horse-racer, libertine, what not?—but in + society charming, and his manners singularly elegant and winning. He never + obtruded his vices in good company; in fact, you might dine with him all + your life and not detect him. The young serpent was torpid in wine; but he + came out, a bit at a time, in the sunshine of Cigar. + </p> + <p> + After a brisk conversation on current topics, the venerable chief told him + plainly they were both curious to know the history of Miss Somerset, and + he must tell it them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, with pleasure,” said the obliging youth. “Let us go into the + smoking-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Let—me—see. I picked her up by the sea-side. She promised + well at first. We put her on my chestnut mare, and she showed lots of + courage, so she soon learned to ride; but she kicked, even down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Kicked!—whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Kicked all round; I mean showed temper. And when she got to London, and + had ridden a few times in the park, and swallowed flattery, there was no + holding her. I stood her cheek for a good while, but at last I told the + servants they must not turn her out, but they could keep her out. They + sided with me for once. She had ridden over them, as well. The first time + she went out they bolted the doors, and handed her boxes up the area + steps.” + </p> + <p> + “How did she take that?” + </p> + <p> + “Easier than we expected. She said, 'Lucky for you beggars that I'm a + lady, or I'd break every d—d window in the house.'” + </p> + <p> + This caused a laugh. It subsided. The historian resumed. + </p> + <p> + “Next day she cooled, and wrote a letter.” + </p> + <p> + “To you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, to my groom. Would you like to see it? It is a curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + He sent one of the club waiters for his servant, and his servant for his + desk, and produced the letter. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Vandeleur. “She looks like a queen, and steps like an + empress, and this is how she writes: + </p> + <p> + “'DEAR JORGE—i have got the sak, an' praps your turn nex. dear jorge + he alwaies promise me the grey oss, which now an oss is life an death to + me. If you was to ast him to lend me the grey he wouldn't refuse you, + </p> + <p> + “'Yours respecfully, + </p> + <p> + “'RHODA SOMERSET.'” + </p> + <p> + When the letter and the handwriting, which, unfortunately, I cannot + reproduce, had been duly studied and approved, Vandeleur continued— + </p> + <p> + “Now, you know, she had her good points, after all. If any creature was + ill, she'd sit up all night and nurse them, and she used to go to church + on Sundays, and come back with the sting out of her; only then she would + preach to a fellow, and bore him. She is awfully fond of preaching. Her + dream is to jump on a first-rate hunter, and ride across country, and + preach to the villages. So, when George came grinning to me with the + letter, I told him to buy a new side-saddle for the gray, and take her the + lot, with my compliments. I had noticed a slight spavin in his near + foreleg. She rode him that very day in the park, all alone, and made such + a sensation that next day my gray was standing in Lord Hailey's stables. + But she rode Hailey, like my gray, with a long spur, and he couldn't stand + it. None of 'em could except Sir Charles Bassett, and he doesn't play fair—never + goes near her.” + </p> + <p> + “And that gives him an unfair advantage over his fascinating + predecessors?” inquired the senior, slyly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it does,” said Vandeleur, stoutly. “You ask a girl to dine at + Richmond once a month, and keep out of her way all the rest of the time, + and give her lots of money—she will never quarrel with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Profit by this information, young man,” said old Woodgate, severely; “it + comes too late for me. In my day there existed no sure method of pleasing + the fair. But now that is invented, along with everything else. Richmond + and—absence, equivalent to 'Richmond and victory!' Now, Bassett, we + have heard the truth from the fountain-head, and it is rather serious. She + swears, she kicks, she preaches. Do you still desire an introduction? As + for me, my manly spirit is beginning to quake at Vandeleur's revelations, + and some lines of Scott recur to my Gothic memory— + </p> + <p> + “'From the chafed tiger rend his prey, Bar the fell dragon's blighting + way, But shun that lovely snare.”' + </p> + <p> + Bassett replied, gravely, that he had no such motive as Mr. Woodgate gave + him credit for, but still desired the introduction. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” said Vandeleur; “but it will be no use to you. She hates + me like poison; says I have no heart. That is what all ill-tempered women + say.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his misgivings the obliging youth called for writing + materials, and produced the following epistle— + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS SOMERSET—Mr. Richard Bassett, a cousin of Sir Charles, + wishes very much to be introduced to you, and has begged me to assist in + an object so laudable. I should hardly venture to present myself, and, + therefore, shall feel surprised as well as flattered if you will receive + Mr. Bassett on my introduction, and my assurance that he is a respectable + country gentleman, and bears no resemblance in character to + </p> + <p> + “Yours faithfully, + </p> + <p> + “ARTHUR VANDELEUR.” + </p> + <p> + Next day Bassett called at Miss Somerset's house in May Fair, and + delivered his introduction. + </p> + <p> + He was admitted after a short delay and entered the lady's boudoir. It was + Luxury's nest. The walls were rose colored satin, padded and puckered; the + voluminous curtains were pale satin, with floods and billows of real lace; + the chairs embroidered, the tables all buhl and ormolu, and the sofas felt + like little seas. The lady herself, in a delightful peignoir, sat nestled + cozily in a sort of ottoman with arms. Her finely formed hand, clogged + with brilliants, was just conveying brandy and soda-water to a very + handsome mouth when Richard Bassett entered. + </p> + <p> + She raised herself superbly, but without leaving her seat, and just looked + at a chair in a way that seemed to say, “I permit you to sit down;” and + that done, she carried the glass to her lips with the same admirable + firmness of hand she showed in driving. Her lofty manner, coupled with her + beautiful but rather haughty features, smacked of imperial origin. Yet she + was the writer to “jorge,” and four years ago a shrimp-girl, running into + the sea with legs as brown as a berry. + </p> + <p> + So swiftly does merit rise in this world which, nevertheless, some morose + folk pretend is a wicked one. + </p> + <p> + I ought to explain, however, that this haughty reception was partly caused + by a breach of propriety. Vandeleur ought first to have written to her and + asked permission to present Richard Bassett. He had no business to send + the man and the introduction together. This law a Parliament of Sirens had + passed, and the slightest breach of it was a bitter offense Equilibrium + governs the world. These ladies were bound to be overstrict in something + or other, being just a little lax in certain things where other ladies are + strict. + </p> + <p> + Now Bassett had pondered well what he should say, but he was disconcerted + by her superb presence and demeanor and her large gray eyes, that rested + steadily upon his face. + </p> + <p> + However, he began to murmur mellifluously. Said he had often seen her in + public, and admired her, and desired to make her acquaintance, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you not ask Sir Charles to bring you here?” said Miss + Somerset, abruptly, and searching him with her eyes, that were not to say + bold, but singularly brave, and examiners pointblank. + </p> + <p> + “I am not on good terms with Sir Charles. He holds the estates that ought + to be mine; and now he has robbed me of my love. He is the last man in the + world I would ask a favor of.” + </p> + <p> + “You came here to abuse him behind his back, eh?” asked the lady with + undisguised contempt. + </p> + <p> + Bassett winced, but kept his temper. “No, Miss Somerset; but you seem to + think I ought to have come to you through Sir Charles. I would not enter + your house if I did not feel sure I shall not meet him here.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset looked rather puzzled. “Sir Charles does not come here every + day, but he comes now and then, and he is always welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Now some of my gentlemen friends think it is a wonder he does + not come every minute.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me. What surprises me is that you are such good friends under + the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances! what circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know. You are in his confidence, I presume?”—this rather + satirically. So the lady answered, defiantly: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am; he knows I can hold my tongue, so he tells me things he tells + nobody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you are in his confidence, you know he is about to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “Married! Sir Charles married!” + </p> + <p> + “In three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie! You get out of my house this moment!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett colored at this insult. He rose from his seat with some little + dignity, made her a low bow, and retired. But her blood was up: she made a + wonderful rush, sweeping down a chair with her dress as she went, and + caught him at the door, clutched him by the shoulder and half dragged him + back, and made him sit down again, while she stood opposite him, with the + knuckles of one hand resting on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said she, panting, “you look me in the face and say that again.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me; you punish me too severely for telling the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I beg your pardon—there. Now tell me—this instant. + Can't you speak, man?” And her knuckles drummed the table. + </p> + <p> + “He is to be married in three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Who to?” + </p> + <p> + “A young lady I love.” + </p> + <p> + “Her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Arabella Bruce.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does she live?” + </p> + <p> + “Portman Square.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stop that marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” asked Richard, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; that I'll think over. But he shall not marry her—never!” + </p> + <p> + Bassett sat and looked up with almost as much awe as complacency at the + fury he had evoked; for this woman was really at times a poetic + impersonation of that fiery passion she was so apt to indulge. She stood + before him, her cheek pale, her eyes glittering and roving savagely, and + her nostrils literally expanding, while her tall body quivered with wrath, + and her clinched knuckles pattered on the table. + </p> + <p> + “He shall not marry her. I'll kill him first!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + RICHARD BASSETT eagerly offered his services to break off the obnoxious + match. But Miss Somerset was beginning to be mortified at having shown so + much passion before a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to do with it?” said she, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Everything. I love Miss Bruce.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Oh, yes; I forgot that. Anything else? There is, now. I see it in your +eye. What is it?” + + “Sir Charles's estates are mine by right, and they will return to my +line if he does not marry and have issue.” + </pre> + <p> + “Oh, I see. That is so like a man. It's always love, and something more + important, with you. Well, give me your address. I'll write if I want + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Highly flattered,” said Bassett, ironically-wrote his address and left + her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset then sat down and wrote: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR CHARLES—please call here, I want to speak to you. + </p> + <p> + yours respecfuly, + </p> + <p> + “RHODA SOMERSET.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles obeyed this missive, and the lady received him with a gracious + and smiling manner, all put on and catlike. She talked with him of + indifferent things for more than an hour, still watching to see if he + would tell her of his own accord. + </p> + <p> + When she was quite sure he would not, she said, + </p> + <p> + “Do you know there's a ridiculous report about that you are going to be + married?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “They even tell her name—Miss Bruce. Do you know the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Very.” + </p> + <p> + “Modest?” + </p> + <p> + “As an angel.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you going to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are a villain.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce I am!” + </p> + <p> + “You are, to abandon a woman who has sacrificed all for you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked puzzled, and then smiled; but was too polite to give + his thoughts vent. Nor was it necessary; Miss Somerset, whose brave eyes + never left the person she was speaking to, fired up at the smile alone, + and she burst into a torrent of remonstrance, not to say vituperation. Sir + Charles endeavored once or twice to stop it, but it was not to be stopped; + so at last he quietly took up his hat, to go. + </p> + <p> + He was arrested at the door by a rustle and a fall. He turned round, and + there was Miss Somerset lying on her back, grinding her white teeth and + clutching the air. + </p> + <p> + He ran to the bell and rang it violently, then knelt down and did his best + to keep her from hurting herself; but, as generally happens in these + cases, his interference made her more violent. He had hard work to keep + her from battering her head against the floor, and her arms worked like + windmills. + </p> + <p> + Hearing the bell tugged so violently, a pretty page ran headlong into the + room—saw—and; without an instant's diminution of speed, + described a curve, and ran headlong out, screaming “Polly! Polly!” + </p> + <p> + The next moment the housekeeper, an elderly woman, trotted in at the door, + saw her mistress's condition, and stood stock-still, calling, “Polly,” but + with the most perfect tranquillity the mind can conceive. + </p> + <p> + In ran a strapping house-maid, with black eyes and brown arms, went down + on her knees, and said, firmly though respectfully, “Give her me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + She got behind her struggling mistress, pulled her up into her own lap, + and pinned her by the wrists with a vigorous grasp. + </p> + <p> + The lady struggled, and ground her teeth audibly, and flung her arms + abroad. The maid applied all her rustic strength and harder muscle to hold + her within bounds. The four arms went to and fro in a magnificent + struggle, and neither could the maid hold the mistress still, nor the + mistress shake off the maid's grasp, nor strike anything to hurt herself. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, thrust out of the play looked on with pity and anxiety, and + the little page at the door—combining art and nature—stuck + stock-still in a military attitude, and blubbered aloud. + </p> + <p> + As for the housekeeper, she remained in the middle of the room with folded + arms, and looked down on the struggle with a singular expression of + countenance. There was no agitation whatever, but a sort of thoughtful + examination, half cynical, half admiring. + </p> + <p> + However, as soon as the boy's sobs reached her ear she wakened up, and + said, tenderly, “What is the child crying for? Run and get a basin of + water, and fling it all over her; that will bring her to in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + The page departed swiftly on this benevolent errand. + </p> + <p> + Then the lady gave a deep sigh, and ceased to struggle. + </p> + <p> + Next she stared in all their faces, and seemed to return to consciousness. + </p> + <p> + Next she spoke, but very feebly. “Help me up,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles and Polly raised her, and now there was a marvelous change. + The vigorous vixen was utterly weak, and limp as a wet towel—a woman + of jelly. As such they handled her, and deposited her gingerly on the + sofa. + </p> + <p> + Now the page ran in hastily with the water. Up jumps the poor lax + sufferer, with flashing eyes: “You dare come near me with it!” Then to the + female servants: “Call yourselves women, and water my lilac silk, not two + hours old?” Then to the housekeeper: “You old monster, you wanted it for + your Polly. Get out of my sight, <i>the lot!”</i> + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly remembering how feeble she was, she sank instantly down, + and turned piteously and languidly to Sir Charles. “They eat my bread, and + rob me, and hate me,” said she, faintly. “I have but one friend on earth.” + She leaned tenderly toward Sir Charles as that friend; but before she + quite reached him she started back, her eyes filled with sudden horror. + “And he forsakes me!” she cried; and so turned away from him despairingly, + and began to cry bitterly, with head averted over the sofa, and one hand + hanging by her side for Sir Charles to take and comfort her. He tried to + take it. It resisted; and, under cover of that little disturbance, the + other hand dexterously whipped two pins out of her hair. The long brown + tresses—all her own—fell over her eyes and down to her waist, + and the picture of distressed beauty was complete. + </p> + <p> + Even so did the women of antiquity conquer male pity—<i>“solutis + crinibus.”</i> + </p> + <p> + The females interchanged a meaning glance, and retired; then the boy + followed them with his basin, sore perplexed, but learning life in this + admirable school. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles then, with the utmost kindness, endeavored to reconcile the + weeping and disheveled fair to that separation which circumstances + rendered necessary. But she was inconsolable, and he left the house, + perplexed and grieved; not but what it gratified his vanity a little to + find himself beloved all in a moment, and the Somerset unvixened. He could + not help thinking how wide must be the circle of his charms, which had won + the affections of two beautiful women so opposite in character as Bella + Bruce and La Somerset. + </p> + <p> + The passion of this latter seemed to grow. She wrote to him every day, and + begged him to call on her. + </p> + <p> + She called on him—she who had never called on a man before. + </p> + <p> + She raged with jealousy; she melted with grief. She played on him with all + a woman's artillery; and at last actually wrung from him what she called a + reprieve. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett called on her, but she would not receive him; so then he + wrote to her, urging co-operation, and she replied, frankly, that she took + no interest in his affairs; but that she was devoted to Sir Charles, and + should keep him for herself. Vanity tempted her to add that he (Sir + Charles) was with her every day, and the wedding postponed. + </p> + <p> + This last seemed too good to be true, so Richard Bassett set his servant + to talk to the servants in Portman Square. He learned that the wedding was + now to be on the 15th of June, instead of the 31st of May. + </p> + <p> + Convinced that this postponement was only a blind, and that the marriage + would never be, he breathed more freely at the news. + </p> + <p> + But the fact is, although Sir Charles had yielded so far to dread of + scandal, he was ashamed of himself, and his shame became remorse when he + detected a furtive tear in the dove-like eyes of her he really loved and + esteemed. + </p> + <p> + He went and told his trouble to Mr. Oldfield. “I am afraid she will do + something desperate,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield heard him out, and then asked him had he told Miss Somerset + what he was going to settle on her. + </p> + <p> + “Not I. She is not in a condition to be influenced by that, at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me try her. The draft is ready. I'll call on her to-morrow.” He did + call, and was told she did not know him. + </p> + <p> + “You tell her I am a lawyer, and it is very much to her interest to see + me,” said Mr. Oldfield to the page. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He was admitted, but not to a <i>tete-a-tete.</i> Polly was kept in the +room. The Somerset had peeped, and Oldfield was an old fellow, with +white hair; if he had been a young fellow, with black hair, she might +have thought that precaution less necessary. + + “First, madam,” said Oldfield, “I must beg you to accept my apologies +for not coming sooner. Press of business, etc.” + </pre> + <p> + “Why have you come at all? That is the question,” inquired the lady, + bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “I bring the draft of a deed for your approval. Shall I read it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; if it is not very long.” He began to read it. The lady interrupted + him characteristically. + </p> + <p> + “It's a beastly rigmarole. What does it mean—in three words?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles Bassett secures to Rhoda Somerset four hundred pounds a year, + while single; this is reduced to two hundred if you marry. The deed + further assigns to you, without reserve, the beneficial lease of this + house, and all the furniture and effects, plate, linen, wine, etc.” + </p> + <p> + “I see—a bribe.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the kind, madam. When Sir Charles instructed me to prepare + this deed he expected no opposition on your part to his marriage; but he + thought it due to him and to yourself to mark his esteem for you, and his + recollection of the pleasant hours he has spent in your company.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset's eyes searched the lawyer's face. He stood the battery + unflinchingly. She altered her tone, and asked, politely and almost + respectfully, whether she might see that paper. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield gave it her. She took it, and ran her eye over it; in doing + which, she raised it so that she could think behind it unobserved. She + handed it back at last, with the remark that Sir Charles was a gentleman + and had done the right thing. + </p> + <p> + “He has; and you will do the right thing too, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I am just beginning to fall in love with him myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Jealousy, madam, not love,” said the old lawyer. “Come, now! I see you + are a young lady of rare good sense; look the thing in the face: Sir + Charles is a landed gentleman; he must marry, and, have heirs. He is over + thirty, and his time has come. He has shown himself your friend; why not + be his? He has given you the means to marry a gentleman of moderate + income, or to marry beneath you, if you prefer it—” + </p> + <p> + “And most of us do—” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not make his path smooth? Why distress him with your tears and + remonstrances?” + </p> + <p> + He continued in this strain for some time, appealing to her good sense and + her better feelings. + </p> + <p> + When he had done she said, very quietly, “How about the ponies and my + brown mare? Are they down in the deed?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not; but if you will do your part handsomely I'll guarantee you + shall have them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a good soul.” Then, after a pause, “Now just you tell me exactly + what you want me to do for all this.” + </p> + <p> + Oldfield was pleased with this question. He said, “I wish you to abstain + from writing to Sir Charles, and him to visit you only once more before + his marriage, just to shake hands and part, with mutual friendship and + good wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said she, softly; “best for us both, and only fair to the + girl.” Then, with sudden and eager curiosity, “Is she very pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “What, hasn't he told you?” + </p> + <p> + “He says she is lovely, and every way adorable; but then he is in love. + The chances are she is not half so handsome as yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet he is in love with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Over head and ears.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it. If he was really in love with one woman he couldn't + be just to another. <i>I</i> couldn't. He'll be coming back to me in a few + months.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, old gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield began to stammer excuses. She interrupted him: “Oh, bother + all that; I like you none the worse for speaking your mind.” Then, after a + pause, “Now excuse me; but suppose Sir Charles should change his mind, and + never sign this paper?” + </p> + <p> + “I pledge my professional credit.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough, sir; I see I can trust you. Well, then, I consent to + break off with Sir Charles, and only see him once more—as a friend. + Poor Sir Charles! I hope he will be happy” (she squeezed out a tear for + him)—“happier than I am. And when he does come he can sign the deed, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield left her, and joined Sir Charles at Long's, as had been + previously agreed. + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, Sir Charles; she is a sensible girl, and will give you + no further trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get over the hysterics?” + </p> + <p> + “We dispensed with them. She saw at once it was to be business, not + sentiment. You are to pay her one more visit, to sign, and part friends. + If you please, I'll make that appointment with both parties, as soon as + the deed is engrossed. Oh, by-the-by, she did shed a tear or two, but she + dried them to ask me for the ponies and the brown mare.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles's vanity was mortified. But he laughed it off, and said she + should have them, of course. + </p> + <p> + So now his mind was at ease, his conscience was at rest, and he could give + his whole time where he had given his heart. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett learned, through his servant, that the wedding-dresses + were ordered. He called on Miss Somerset. She was out. + </p> + <p> + Polly opened the door and gave him a look of admiration—due to his + fresh color—that encouraged him to try and enlist her in his + service. + </p> + <p> + He questioned her, and she told him in a general way how matters were + going. “But,” said she, “why not come and talk to her yourself? Ten to one + but she tells you. She is pretty outspoken.” + </p> + <p> + “My pretty dear,” said Richard, “she never will receive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I'll make her!” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + And she did exert her influence as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Lookee here, the cousin's a-coming to-morrow and I've been and promised + he should see you.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do that for?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's a well-looking chap, and a beautiful color, fresh from the + country, like me. And he's a gentleman, and got an estate belike; and why + not put yourn to hisn, and so marry him and be a lady? You might have me + about ye all the same, till my turn comes.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Rhoda; “that's not the man for me. If ever I marry, it must + be one of my own sort, or else a fool, like Marsh, that I can make a slave + of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, any way, you must see him, not to make a fool of <i>me,</i> for I + did promise him; which, now I think on't, 'twas very good of me, for I + could find in my heart to ask him down into the kitchen, instead of + bringing him upstairs to you.” + </p> + <p> + All this ended, somehow, in Mr. Bassett's being admitted. + </p> + <p> + To his anxious inquiry how matters stood, she replied coolly that Sir + Charles and herself were parted by mutual consent. + </p> + <p> + “What! after all your protestations?” said Bassett, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + But Miss Somerset was not in an irascible humor just then. She shrugged + her shoulders, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember I put myself in a passion, and said some ridiculous + things. But one can't be always a fool. I have come to my senses. This + sort of thing always does end, you know. Most of them part enemies, but he + and I part friends and well-wishers.” + </p> + <p> + “And you throw <i>me</i> over as if I was nobody,” said Richard, white + with anger. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what are you to me?” said the Somerset. “Oh, I see. You thought to + make a cat's-paw of me. Well, you won't, then.” + </p> + <p> + “In other words, you have been bought off.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not. I am not to be bought by anybody—and I am not to be + insulted by you, you ruffian! How dare you come here and affront a lady in + her own house—a lady whose shoestrings your betters are ready to + tie, you brute? If you want to be a landed proprietor, go and marry some + ugly old hag that's got it, and no eyesight left to see you're no + gentleman. Sir Charles's land you'll never have; a better man has got it, + and means to keep it for him and his. Here, Polly! Polly! Polly! take this + man down to the kitchen, and teach him manners if you can: he is not fit + for my drawing-room, by a long chalk.” + </p> + <p> + Polly arrived in time to see the flashing eyes, the swelling veins, and to + hear the fair orator's peroration. + </p> + <p> + “What, you are in your tantrums again!” said she. “Come along, sir. Needs + must when the devil drives. You'll break a blood-vessel some day, my lady, + like your father afore ye.” + </p> + <p> + And with this homely suggestion, which always sobered Miss Somerset, and, + indeed, frightened her out of her wits, she withdrew the offender. She did + not take him into the kitchen, but into the dining-room, and there he had + a long talk with her, and gave her a sovereign. + </p> + <p> + She promised to inform him if anything important should occur. + </p> + <p> + He went away, pondering and scowling deeply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + SIR CHARLES BASSETT was now living in Elysium. Never was rake more + thoroughly transformed. Every day he sat for hours at the feet of Bella + Bruce, admiring her soft, feminine ways and virgin modesty even more than + her beauty. And her visible blush whenever he appeared suddenly, and the + soft commotion and yielding in her lovely frame whenever he drew near, + betrayed his magnetic influence, and told all but the blind she adored + him. + </p> + <p> + She would decline all invitations to dine with him and her father—a + strong-minded old admiral, whose authority was unbounded, only, to Bella's + regret, very rarely exerted. Nothing would have pleased her more than to + be forbidden this and commanded that; but no! the admiral was a lion with + an enormous paw, only he could not be got to put it into every pie. + </p> + <p> + In this charming society the hours glided, and the wedding-day drew close. + So deeply and sincerely was Sir Charles in love that when Mr. Oldfield's + letter came, appointing the day and hour to sign Miss Somerset's deed, he + was unwilling to go, and wrote back to ask if the deed could not be sent + to his house. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield replied that the parties to the deed and the witnesses must + meet, and it would be unadvisable, for several reasons, to irritate the + lady's susceptibility previous to signature; the appointment having been + made at her house, it had better remain so. + </p> + <p> + That day soon came. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, being due in Mayfair at 2 P.M., compensated himself for the + less agreeable business to come by going earlier than usual to Portman + Square. By this means he caught Miss Bruce and two other young ladies + inspecting bridal dresses. Bella blushed and looked ashamed, and, to the + surprise of her friends, sent the dresses away, and set herself to talk + rationally with Sir Charles—as rationally as lovers can. + </p> + <p> + The ladies took the cue, and retired in disgust. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles apologized. + </p> + <p> + “This is too bad of me. I come at an unheard-of hour, and frighten away + your fair friends; but the fact is, I have an appointment at two, and I + don't know how long they will keep me, so I thought I would make sure of + two happy hours at the least.” + </p> + <p> + And delightful hours they were. Bella Bruce, excited by this little + surprise, leaned softly on his shoulder, and prattled her maiden love like + some warbling fountain. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind—three months + ago he could not—and they compared pretty little plans of wedded + life, and had small differences, and ended by agreeing. + </p> + <p> + Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, they would not have a + single quarrel, like other people; their love should never lose its + delicate bloom; second, they would grow old together, and die the same day—the + same minute if possible; if not, they must be content with the same day, + but, on that, inexorable. + </p> + <p> + But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to obey t'other. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and therefore more fit + to conduct the pair. + </p> + <p> + Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this reason furiously. He + defended it. He admitted, with exemplary candor, that he was good now—“awfully + good.” But he assured her that he had been anything but good until he knew + her; now she had been always good; therefore, he argued, as his goodness + came originally from her, for her to obey him would be a little too much + like the moon commanding the sun. + </p> + <p> + “That is too ingenious for me, Charles,” said Bella. “And, for shame! + Nobody was ever so good as you are. I look up to you and—Now I could + stop your mouth in a minute. I have only to remind you that I shall swear + at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear to obey me. But I will + not crush you under the Prayer-book—no, dearest; but, indeed, to + obey is a want of my nature, and I marry you to supply that want: and + that's a story, for I marry you because I love and honor and worship and + adore you to distraction, my own—own—own!” With this she flung + herself passionately, yet modestly on his shoulder, and, being there, + murmured, coaxingly, “You will let me obey you, Charles?” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Sir Charles felt highly gelatinous, and lost, for the moment, + all power of resistance or argument. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you will; and then you will remind me of my dear mother. She knew how + to command; but as for poor dear papa, he is very disappointing. In + selecting an admiral for my parent, I made sure of being ordered about. + Instead of that—now I'll show you—there he is in the next + room, inventing a new system of signals, poor dear—” + </p> + <p> + She threw the folding-doors open. + </p> + <p> + “Papa dear, shall I ask Charles to dinner to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “As you please, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I had better walk or ride this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Whichever you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said Bella, “I told you so. That is always the way. Papa dear, + you used always to be firing guns at sea. Do, please, fire one in this + house—just one—before I leave it, and make the very windows + rattle.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Bella; I never wasted powder at sea. If the convoy + sailed well and steered right I never barked at them. You are a modest, + sensible girl, and have always steered a good course. Why should I hoist a + petticoat and play the small tyrant? Wait till I see you going to do + something wrong or silly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! then you <i>would</i> fire a gun, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, a broadside.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is something,” said Bella, as she closed the door softly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; it amounts to just nothing,” said Sir Charles; “for you never + will do anything wrong or silly. I'll accommodate you. I have thought of a + way. I shall give you some blank cards; you shall write on them, 'I think + I should like to do so and so.' You shall be careless, and leave them + about; I'll find them, and bluster, and say, 'I command you to do so and + so, Bella Bassett'—the very thing on the card, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Bella colored to the brow with pleasure and modesty. After a pause she + said: “How sweet! The worst of it is, I should get my own way. Now what I + want is to submit my will to yours. A gentle tyrant—that is what you + must be to Bella Bassett. Oh, you sweet, sweet, for calling me that!” + </p> + <p> + These projects were interrupted by a servant announcing luncheon. This + made Sir Charles look hastily at his watch, and he found it was past two + o'clock. + </p> + <p> + “How time flies in this house!” said he. “I must go, dearest; I am behind + my appointment already. What do you do this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you please, my own.” + </p> + <p> + “I could get away by four.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will stay at home for you.” + </p> + <p> + He left her reluctantly, and she followed him to the head of the stairs, + and hung over the balusters as if she would like to fly after him. + </p> + <p> + He turned at the street-door, saw that radiant and gentle face beaming + after him, and they kissed hands to each other by one impulse, as if they + were parting for ever so long. + </p> + <p> + He had gone scarcely half an hour when a letter, addressed to her, was + left at the door by a private messenger. + </p> + <p> + “Any answer?” inquired the servant. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The letter was sent up, and delivered to her on a silver salver. + </p> + <p> + She opened it; it was a thing new to her in her young life—an + anonymous letter. + </p> + <p> + “MISS BRUCE—I am almost a stranger to you, but I know your character + from others, and cannot bear to see you abused. You are said to be about + to marry Sir Charles Bassett. I think you can hardly be aware that he is + connected with a lady of doubtful repute, called Somerset, and neither + your beauty nor your virtue has prevailed to detach him from that + connection. + </p> + <p> + “If, on engaging himself to you, he had abandoned her, I should not have + said a word. But the truth is, he visits her constantly, and I blush to + say that when he leaves you this day it will be to spend the afternoon at + her house. + </p> + <p> + “I inclose you her address, and you can learn in ten minutes whether I am + a slanderer or, what I wish to be, + </p> + <p> + “A FRIEND OF INJURED INNOCENCE.” <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + SIR CHARLES was behind his time in Mayfair; but the lawyer and his clerk + had not arrived, and Miss Somerset was not visible. + </p> + <p> + She appeared, however, at last, in a superb silk dress, the broad luster + of which would have been beautiful, only the effect was broken and + frittered away by six rows of gimp and fringe. But why blame her? This is + a blunder in art as universal as it is amazing, when one considers the + amount of apparent thought her sex devotes to dress. They might just as + well score a fair plot of velvet turf with rows of box, or tattoo a + blooming and downy cheek. + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand, like a man, and talked to Sir Charles on + indifferent topics, till Mr. Oldfield arrived. She then retired into the + background, and left the gentlemen to discuss the deed. When appealed to, + she evaded direct replies, and put on languid and imperial indifference. + When she signed, it was with the air of some princess bestowing a favor + upon solicitation. + </p> + <p> + But the business concluded, she thawed all in a moment, and invited the + gentlemen to luncheon with charming cordiality. Indeed, her genuine <i>bonhomie</i> + after her affected indifference was rather comic. Everybody was content. + Champagne flowed. The lady, with her good mother-wit, kept conversation + going till the lawyer was nearly missing his next appointment. He hurried + away; and Sir Charles only lingered, out of good-breeding, to bid Miss + Somerset good-by. In the course of leave-taking he said he was sorry he + left her with people about her of whom he had a bad opinion. “Those women + have no more feeling for you than stones. When you lay in convulsions, + your housekeeper looked on as philosophically as if you had been two + kittens at play—you and Polly.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw her.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! You appeared hardly in a condition to see anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, though, and heard the old wretch tell the young monkey to water my + lilac dress. That was to get it for her Polly. She knew I'd never wear it + afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you turn her off?” + </p> + <p> + “Who'd take such a useless old hag, if I turned her off?” + </p> + <p> + “You carry a charity a long way.” + </p> + <p> + “I carry everything. What's the use doing things by halves, good or bad?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but that Polly! She is young enough to get her living elsewhere; + and she is extremely disrespectful to you.” + </p> + <p> + “That she is. If I wasn't a lady, I'd have given her a good hiding this + very day for her cheek!” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not turn her off this very day for her cheek?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell you, since you and I are parted forever. No, I don't + like.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come! No secrets between friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, the old hag is—my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “And the young jade—is my sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “And the page—is my little brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “What, you are not angry?” + </p> + <p> + “Angry? no. Ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “See what a hornets' nest you have escaped from. My dear friend, those two + women rob me through thick and thin. They steal my handkerchiefs, and my + gloves, and my very linen. They drink my wine like fishes. They'd take the + hair off my head, if it wasn't fast by the roots—for a wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not give them a ten-pound note and send them home?” + </p> + <p> + “They'd pocket the note, and blacken me in our village. That was why I had + them up here. First time I went home, after running about with that little + scamp, Vandeleur—do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your luck beats mine. One thing, he is going to the dogs as fast as + he can. Some day he'll come begging to me for a fiver. You mark my words + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you were saying—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I went off about Van. Polly <i>says</i> I've a mind like running + water. Well, then, when I went home the first time—after Van, mother + and Polly raised a virtuous howl. 'All right,' said I—for, of + course, I know how much virtue there is under <i>their</i> skins. Virtue + of the lower orders! Tell that to gentlefolks that don't know them. I do. + I've been one of 'em—'I know all about that,' says I. 'You want to + share the plunder, that is the sense of your virtuous cry.' So I had 'em + up here; and then there was no more virtuous howling, but a deal of + virtuous thieving, and modest drinking, and pure-minded selling of my + street-door to the highest male bidder. And they will corrupt the boy; and + if they do, I'll cuts their black hearts out with my riding-whip. But I + suppose I must keep them on; they are my own flesh and blood; and if I was + to be ill and dying, they'd do all they knew to keep me alive—for + their own sakes. I'm their milch cow, these country innocents.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles groaned aloud, and said, “My poor girl, you deserve a better + fate than this. Marry some honest fellow, and cut the whole thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see about it. You try it first, and let us see how you like it.” + </p> + <p> + And so they parted gayly. + </p> + <p> + In the hall, Polly intercepted him, all smiles. He looked at her, smiled + in his sleeve, and gave her a handsome present. “If you please, sir,” said + she, “an old gentleman called for you.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “About an hour ago. Leastways, he asked if Sir Charles Bassett was there. + I said yes, but you wouldn't see no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Who could it be? Why, surely you never told anybody I was to be here + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “La, no, sir! how could I?” said Polly, with a face of brass. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles thought this very odd, and felt a little uneasy about it. All + to Portman Square he puzzled over it; and at last he was driven to the + conclusion that Miss Somerset had been weak enough to tell some person, + male or female, of the coming interview, and so somebody had called there—doubtless + to ask him a favor. + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock he reached Portman Square, and was about to enter, as a + matter of course; but the footman stopped him. “I beg pardon, Sir + Charles,” said the man, looking pale and agitated; “but I have strict + orders. My young lady is very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Ill! Let me go to her this instant.” + </p> + <p> + “I daren't, Sir Charles, I daren't. I know you are a gentleman; pray don't + lose me my place. You would never get to see her. We none of us know the + rights, but there's something up. Sorry to say it, Sir Charles, but we + have strict orders not to admit you. Haven't you the admiral's letter, + sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No; what letter?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been after you, sir; and when he came back he sent Roger off to + your house with a letter.” + </p> + <p> + A cold chill began to run down Sir Charles Bassett. He hailed a passing + hansom, and drove to his own house to get the admiral's letter; and as he + went he asked himself, with chill misgivings, what on earth had happened. + </p> + <p> + What had happened shall be told the reader precisely but briefly.. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, Bella had opened the anonymous letter and read its + contents, to which the reader is referred. + </p> + <p> + There are people who pretend to despise anonymous letters. Pure delusion! + they know they ought to, and so fancy they do; but they don't. The absence + of a signature gives weight, if the letter is ably written and seems true. + </p> + <p> + As for poor Bella Bruce, a dove's bosom is no more fit to rebuff a + poisoned arrow than she was to combat that foulest and direst of all a + miscreant's weapons, an anonymous letter. She, in her goodness and + innocence, never dreamed that any person she did not know could possibly + tell a lie to wound her. The letter fell on her like a cruel revelation + from heaven. + </p> + <p> + The blow was so savage that, at first, it stunned her. + </p> + <p> + She sat pale and stupefied; but beneath the stupor were the rising throbs + of coming agonies. + </p> + <p> + After that horrible stupor her anguish grew and grew, till it found vent + in a miserable cry, rising, and rising, and rising, in agony. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma! mamma! mamma!” + </p> + <p> + Yes; her mother had been dead these three years, and her father sat in the + next room; yet, in her anguish, she cried to her mother—a cry the + which, if your mother had heard, she would have expected Bella's to come + to her even from the grave. + </p> + <p> + Admiral Bruce heard this fearful cry—the living calling on the dead—and + burst through the folding-doors in a moment, white as a ghost. + </p> + <p> + He found his daughter writhing on the sofa, ghastly, and grinding in her + hand the cursed paper that had poisoned her young life. + </p> + <p> + “My child! my child!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! see! see!” And she tried to open the letter for him, but her + hands trembled so she could not. + </p> + <p> + He kneeled down by her side, the stout old warrior, and read the letter, + while she clung to him, moaning now, and quivering all over from head to + foot. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's no signature! The writer is a coward and, perhaps, a liar. + Stop! he offers a test. I'll put him to it this minute.” + </p> + <p> + He laid the moaning girl on the sofa, ordered his servants to admit nobody + into the house, and drove at once to Mayfair. + </p> + <p> + He called at Miss Somerset's house, saw Polly, and questioned her. + </p> + <p> + He drove home again, and came into the drawing-room looking as he had been + seen to look when fighting his ship; but his daughter had never seen him + so. “My girl,” said he, solemnly, “there's nothing for you to do but to be + brave, and hide your grief as well as you can, for the man is unworthy of + your love. That coward spoke the truth. He is there at this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! papa! let me die! The world is too wicked for me. Let me die!” + </p> + <p> + “Die for an unworthy object? For shame! Go to your own room, my girl, and + pray to your God to help you, since your mother has left us. Oh, how I + miss her now! Go and pray, and let no one else know what we suffer. Be + your father's daughter. Fight and pray.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Bella had no longer to complain that she was not commanded. She + kissed him, and burst into a great passion of weeping; but he led her to + the door, and she tottered to her own room, a blighted girl. + </p> + <p> + The sight of her was harrowing. Under its influence the admiral dashed off + a letter to Sir Charles, calling him a villain, and inviting him to go to + France and let an indignant father write scoundrel on his carcass. + </p> + <p> + But when he had written this his good sense and dignity prevailed over his + fury; he burned the letter, and wrote another. This he sent by hand to Sir + Charles's house, and ordered his servants—but that the reader knows. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles found the admiral's letter in his letter-rack. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “SIR—We have learned your connection with a lady named Somerset, and + I have ascertained that you went from my daughter to her house this very + day. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bruce and myself withdraw from all connection with you, and I must + request you to attempt no communication with her of any kind. Such an + attempt would be an additional insult. + </p> + <p> + “I am, sir, your obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “JOHN URQUHART BRUCE.” + </p> + <p> + At first Sir Charles Bassett was stunned by this blow. Then his mind + resisted the admiral's severity, and he was indignant at being dismissed + for so common an offense. This gave way to deep grief and shame at the + thought of Bella and her lost esteem. But soon all other feelings merged + for a time in fury at the heartless traitor who had destroyed his + happiness, and had dashed the cup of innocent love from his very lips. + Boiling over with mortification and rage, he drove at once to that + traitor's house. Polly opened the door. He rushed past her, and burst into + the dining-room, breathless, and white with passion. + </p> + <p> + He found Miss Somerset studying the deed by which he had made her + independent for life. She started at his strange appearance, and + instinctively put both hands flat upon the deed. + </p> + <p> + “You vile wretch!” cried Sir Charles. “You heartless monster! Enjoy your + work.” And he flung her the admiral's letter. But he did not wait while + she read it; he heaped reproaches on her; and, for the first time in her + life, she did not reply in kind. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad?” she faltered. “What have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “You have told Admiral Bruce.” + </p> + <p> + “That's false.” + </p> + <p> + “You told him I was to be here to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles, I never did. Believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “You did. Nobody knew it but you. He was here to-day at the very hour.” + </p> + <p> + “May I never get up alive off this chair if I told a soul. Yes, our Polly. + I'll ring for her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you will not. She is your sister. Do you think I'll take the word of + such reptiles against the plain fact? You have parted my love and me—parted + us on the very day I had made you independent for life. An innocent love + was waiting to bless me, and an honest love was in your power, thanks to + me, your kind, forgiving friend and benefactor. I have heaped kindness on + you from the first moment I had the misfortune to know you. I connived at + your infidelities—” + </p> + <p> + “Charles! Don't say that. I never <i>was.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “I indulged your most expensive whims, and, instead of leaving you with a + curse, as all the rest did that ever knew you, and as you deserve, I + bought your consent to lead a respectable life, and be blessed with a + virtuous love. You took the bribe, but robbed me of the blessing—viper! + You have destroyed me, body and soul—monster! perhaps blighted her + happiness as well; you she-devils hate an angel worse than Heaven hates + you. But you shall suffer with us; not your heart, for you have none, but + your pocket. You have broken faith with me, and sent all my happiness to + hell; I'll send your deed to hell after it!” With this, he flung himself + upon the deed, and was going to throw it into the fire. Now up to that + moment she had been overpowered by this man's fury, whom she had never + seen the least angry before; but when he laid hands on her property it + acted like an electric shock. “No! no!” she screamed, and sprang at him + like a wildcat. + </p> + <p> + Then ensued a violent and unseemly struggle all about the room; chairs + were upset, and vases broken to pieces; and the man and woman dragged each + other to and fro, one fighting for her property, as if it was her life, + and the other for revenge. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, excited by fury, was stronger than himself, and at last shook + off one of her hands for a moment, and threw the deed into the fire. She + tried to break from him and save it, but he held her like iron. + </p> + <p> + Yet not for long. While he was holding her back, and she straining every + nerve to get to the fire, he began to show sudden symptoms of distress. He + gasped loudly, and cried, “Oh! oh! I'm choking!” and then his clutch + relaxed. She tore herself from it, and, plunging forward, rescued the + smoking parchment. + </p> + <p> + At that moment she heard a great stagger behind her, and a pitiful moan, + and Sir Charles fell heavily, striking his head against the edge of the + sofa. She looked round—as she knelt, and saw him, black in the face, + rolling his eyeballs fearfully, while his teeth gnashed awfully, and a + little jet of foam flew through his lips. + </p> + <p> + Then she shrieked with terror, and the blackened deed fell from her hands. + At this moment Polly rushed into the room. She saw the fearful sight, and + echoed her sister's scream. But they were neither of them women to lose + their heads and beat the air with their hands. They got to him, and both + of them fought hard with the unconscious sufferer, whose body, in a fresh + convulsion, now bounded away from the sofa, and bade fair to batter itself + against the ground. + </p> + <p> + They did all they could to hold him with one arm apiece, and to release + his swelling throat with the other. Their nimble fingers whipped off his + neck-tie in a moment; but the distended windpipe pressed so against the + shirt-button they could not undo it. Then they seized the collar, and, + pulling against each other, wrenched the shirt open so powerfully that the + button flew into the air, and tinkled against a mirror a long way off. + </p> + <p> + A few more struggles, somewhat less violent, and then the face, from + purple, began to whiten, the eyeballs fixed; the pulse went down; the man + lay still. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” cried Rhoda Somerset. “He is dying! To the nearest doctor! + There's one three doors off. No bonnet! It's life and death this moment. + Fly!” + </p> + <p> + Polly obeyed, and Doctor Andrews was actually in the room within five + minutes. + </p> + <p> + He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and felt his pulse + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, though she did not + look it, began to weep bitterly, and rock herself in rustic fashion. + </p> + <p> + The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told him, between her sobs, how + Sir Charles had been taken. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by those frightful symptoms + she related, took a more cheerful view directly. “Then do not alarm + yourself unnecessarily,” he said. “It was only an epileptic fit.” + </p> + <p> + “Only!” sobbed Miss Somerset. “Oh, if you had seen him! And he lies like + death.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dr. Andrews; “a severe epileptic fit is really a terrible + thing to look at; but it is not dangerous in proportion. Is he used to + have them?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, doctor—never had one before.” + </p> + <p> + Here she was mistaken, I think. + </p> + <p> + “You must keep him quiet; and give him a moderate stimulant as soon as he + can swallow comfortably; the quietest room in the house; and don't let him + be hungry, night or day. Have food by his bedside, and watch him for a day + or two. I'll come again this evening.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor went to his dinner—tranquil. + </p> + <p> + Not so those he left. Miss Somerset resigned her own luxurious bedroom, + and had the patient laid, just as he was, upon her bed. She sent the page + out to her groom and ordered two loads of straw to be laid before the + door; and she watched by the sufferer, with brandy and water by her side. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles now might have seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, but for his + eyes. They were open, and showed more white, and less pupil, than usual. + </p> + <p> + However, in time he began to sigh and move, and even mutter; and, + gradually, some little color came back to his pale cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Then Miss Somerset had the good sense to draw back out of his sight, and + order Polly to take her place by his side. Polly did so, and, some time + afterward, at a fresh order, put a teaspoonful of brandy to his lips, + which were still pale and even bluish. + </p> + <p> + The doctor returned, and brought his assistant. They put the patient to + bed. + </p> + <p> + “His life is in no danger,” said he. “I wish I was as sure about his + reason.” + </p> + <p> + At one o'clock in the morning, as Polly was snoring by the patient's + bedside, a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was Rhoda. + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as very + singular. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had ever + thought before. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat her sister + watching the patient, out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on this lilac + silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino.” + </p> + <p> + “Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a liar like you,” said the other, becoming herself for a moment, + “and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in the + dressing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Polly, joyfully. + </p> + <p> + “And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closed my + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself all the same. Whatever + you can see in cold water, to run after it so, I can't think. If I was to + flood myself like you, it would soon float me to my long home.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? <i>You never gave it a trial.</i> Come, no more chat. + Give me my bath: and then you may wash yourself in a tea-cup if you like—only + don't wash my spoons in the same water, for <i>mercy's sake!”</i> + </p> + <p> + Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly brought cold water + galore, and laid out her new merino dress. In this sober suit, with plain + linen collar and cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumed her + watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out of sight, for the + patient was now beginning to mutter incoherently, yet in a way that showed + his clouded faculties were dwelling on the calamity which had befallen + him. + </p> + <p> + About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly entering, Rhoda called + her to the window and showed her two female figures plodding down the + street. “Look,” said she. “Those are the only women I envy. Sisters of + Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at those beastly ugly + caps: then come and tell me how to make one.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a go!” said Polly; but executed the commission promptly. + </p> + <p> + It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of linen into one of + those ugly caps, which are beautiful banners of Christian charity and + womanly tenderness to the sick and suffering. The monster cap was made in + an hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and then she no + longer thought it necessary to sit out of the patient's sight. + </p> + <p> + The consequence was that, in the middle of his ramblings, he broke off and + looked at her. The sister puzzled him. At last he called to her in French. + </p> + <p> + She made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Je suis a l'hopital, n'est ce pas bonne soeur?” + </p> + <p> + “I am English,” said she, softly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + “ENGLISH!” said Sir Charles. “Then tell me, how did I come here? Where am + I?” + </p> + <p> + “You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept quiet; and I am here + to nurse you.” + </p> + <p> + “A fit! Ay, I remember. That vile woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of her: give your mind to getting well: remember, there is + somebody who would break her heart if you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving Bella!” He was so + weakened that he cried like a child. + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon the window-sill. + </p> + <p> + “Why do I cry for her, like a great baby?” muttered Sir Charles. “She + wouldn't cry for me. She has cast me off in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Not she. It is her father's doing. Have a little patience. The whole + thing shall be explained to them; and then she will soon soften the old + man. 'It is not as if you were really to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “No more I was. It is all that vile woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't! She is so sorry; she has taken it all to heart. She had once + shammed a fit, on the very place; and when you had a real fit there—on + the very spot—oh, it was so fearful—and lay like one dead, she + saw God's finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don't say anything more + against her just now. She is trying so hard to be good. And, besides, it + is all a mistake: she never told that old admiral; she never breathed a + word out of her own house. Her own people have betrayed her and you. She + has made me promise two things: to find out who told the admiral, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “The second thing I have to do—Well, that is a secret between me and + that unhappy woman. She is bad enough, but not so heartless as you think.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no more; and soon after + fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching. + </p> + <p> + She now turned her head away from him, and asked him quietly to describe + Miss Bella Bruce to her. + </p> + <p> + He described her in minute and glowing terms. “But oh, Sister,” said he, + “it is not her beauty only, but the beauty of her mind. So gentle, so + modest, so timid, so docile. She would never have had the heart to turn me + off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward to obey me, sweet + dove.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is her dream of happiness, to obey.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister still questioned him with averted head, and he told her what + had passed between Bella and him the last time he saw her, and all their + innocent plans of married happiness. He told her, with the tear in his + eye, and she listened, with the tear in hers. “And then,” said he, laying + his hand on her shoulder, “is it not hard? I just went to Mayfair, not to + please myself, but to do an act of justice—of more than justice; and + then, for that, to have her door shut in my face. Only two hours between + the height of happiness and the depth of misery.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her hands, and thought. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the room, and said, “You + are to go home. The carriage is at the door.” With this she retired, and + Sir Charles's valet entered the room soon after to help him dress. + </p> + <p> + “Where am I, James?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Somerset's house, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Then get me out of it directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you to come, James?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “That is odd.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + When he got home he found a sofa placed by a fire, with wraps and pillows; + his cigar case laid out, and a bottle of salts, and also a small glass of + old cognac, in case of faintness. + </p> + <p> + “Which of you had the gumption to do all this?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “What, has she been <i>here?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse her!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <h3> + “LOVE LIES BLEEDING.” + </h3> + <p> + BELLA BRUCE was drinking the bitterest cup a young virgin soul can taste. + Illusion gone—the wicked world revealed as it is, how unlike what + she thought it was—love crushed in her, and not crushed out of her, + as it might if she had been either proud or vain. + </p> + <p> + Frail men and women should see what a passionate but virtuous woman can + suffer, when a revelation, of which they think but little, comes and + blasts her young heart, and bids her dry up in a moment the deep well of + her affection, since it flows for an unworthy object, and flows in vain. I + tell you that the fair head severed from the chaste body is nothing to her + compared with this. The fair body, pierced with heathen arrows, was + nothing to her in the days of old compared with this. + </p> + <p> + In a word—for nowadays we can but amplify, and so enfeeble, what + some old dead master of language, immortal though obscure, has said in + words of granite—here + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Love lay bleeding.” + </pre> + <p> + No fainting—no vehement weeping; but oh, such deep desolation; such + weariness of life; such a pitiable restlessness. Appetite gone; the taste + of food almost lost; sleep unwilling to come; and oh, the torture of + waking—for at that horrible moment all rushed back at once, the joy + that had been, the misery that was, the blank that was to come. + </p> + <p> + She never stirred out, except when ordered, and then went like an + automaton. Pale, sorrow-stricken, and patient, she moved about, the ghost + of herself; and lay down a little, and then tried to work a little, and + then to read a little; and could settle to nothing but sorrow and deep + despondency. + </p> + <p> + Not that she nursed her grief. She had been told to be brave, and she + tried. But her grief was her master. It came welling through her eyes in a + moment, of its own accord. + </p> + <p> + She was deeply mortified too. But, in her gentle nature, anger could play + but a secondary part. Her indignation was weak beside her grief, and did + little to bear her up. + </p> + <p> + Yet her sense of shame was vivid; and she tried hard not to let her father + see how deeply she loved the man who had gone from her to Miss Somerset. + Besides, he had ordered her to fight against a love that now could only + degrade her; he had ordered, and it was for her to obey. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Sir Charles was better, he wrote her a long, humble letter, + owning that, before he knew her, he had led a free life; but assuring her + that, ever since that happy time, his heart and his time had been solely + hers; as to his visit to Miss Somerset, it had been one of business + merely, and this he could prove, if she would receive him. The admiral + could be present at that interview, and Sir Charles hoped to convince him + he had been somewhat hasty and harsh in his decision. + </p> + <p> + Now the admiral had foreseen Sir Charles would write to her; so he had + ordered his man to bring all letters to him first. + </p> + <p> + He recognized Sir Charles's hand, and brought the latter in to Bella. + “Now, my child,” said he, “be brave. Here is a letter from that man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! I thought he would. I knew he would.” And the pale face was + flushed with joy and hope all in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Write and explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain? A thing that is clear as sunshine. He has written to throw dust + in your eyes again. You are evidently in no state to judge. <i>I</i> shall + read this letter first.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” said Bella, faintly. + </p> + <p> + He did read it, and she devoured his countenance all the time. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing in it. He offers no real explanation, but only says he + can explain, and asks for an interview—to play upon your weakness. + If I give you this letter, it will only make you cry, and render your task + more difficult. I must be strong for your good, and set you an example. I + loved this young man too; but, now I know him”—then he actually + thrust the letter into the fire. + </p> + <p> + But this was too much. Bella shrieked at the act, and put her hand to her + heart, and shrieked again. “Ah! you'll kill us, you'll kill us both!” she + cried. “Poor Charles! Poor Bella! You don't love your child—you have + no pity.” And, for the first time, her misery was violent. She writhed and + wept, and at last went into violent hysterics, and frightened that stout + old warrior more than cannon had ever frightened him; and presently she + became quiet, and wept at his knees, and begged his forgiveness, and said + he was wiser than she was, and she would obey him in everything, only he + must not be angry with her if she could not live. + </p> + <p> + Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, and began to realize + what deep waters of affliction his girl was wading in. + </p> + <p> + Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to Sir Charles to say that + his daughter was too ill to write; but that no explanation was possible, + and no interview could be allowed. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the most sanguine hopes, + was now as wretched as Bella. Only, now that he was refused a hearing, he + had wounded pride to support him a little under wounded love. + </p> + <p> + Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter's health, and even for her life—she + pined so visibly—now ordered her to divide her day into several + occupations, and exact divisions of time—an hour for this, an hour + for that; an hour by the clock—and here he showed practical wisdom. + Try it, ye that are very unhappy, and tell me the result. + </p> + <p> + As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk round the square from + eleven to twelve A. M., but never alone; he was not going to have Sir + Charles surprising her into an interview. He always went with her, and, as + he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she had to walk in + sight. He took a stout stick with him—for Sir Charles. But Sir + Charles was proud, and stayed at home with his deep wound. + </p> + <p> + One day, walking round the square with a step of Mercury and heart of + lead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of Charity pacing slow and thoughtful; + their eyes met and drank, in a moment, every feature of each other. + </p> + <p> + The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on that fair face; for + the next time they met, she eyed her with a certain sympathy, which did + not escape Bella. + </p> + <p> + This subtle interchange took place several times and Bella could not help + feeling a little grateful. “Ah!” she thought to herself, “how kind + religious people are! I should like to speak to her.” And the next time + they met she looked wistfully in the Sister's face. + </p> + <p> + She did not meet her again, for she went and rested on a bench, in sight + of her father, but at some distance from him. Unconsciously to herself, + his refusal even to hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was so hard on him + and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, the last little + chance of happiness. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by the Sister came and sat on the same bench. + </p> + <p> + Bella was hardly surprised, but blushed high, for she felt that her own + eyes had invited the sympathy of a stranger; and now it seemed to be + coming. The timid girl felt uneasy. The Sister saw that, and approached + her with tact. “You look unwell,” said she, gently, but with no appearance + of extravagant interest or curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “I am—a little,” said Bella, very reservedly. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse my remarking it. We are professional nurses, and apt to be a + little officious, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you were unwell. But I hope it is not serious. I can generally tell + when the sick are in danger.” A peculiar look. “I am glad not to see it in + so young and—good a face.” + </p> + <p> + “You are young, too; very young, and—” she was going to say + “beautiful,” but she was too shy—“to be a Sister of Charity. But I + am sure you never regret leaving such a world as this is.” + </p> + <p> + “Never. I have lost the only thing I ever valued in it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to ask you what that was.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know without asking. One I loved proved unworthy.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister sighed deeply, and then, hiding her face with her hands for a + moment, rose abruptly, and left the square, ashamed, apparently, of having + been betrayed into such a confession. + </p> + <p> + Bella, when she was twenty yards off, put out a timid hand, as if to + detain her; but she had not the courage to say anything of the kind. + </p> + <p> + She never told her father a word. She had got somebody now who could + sympathize with her better than he could. + </p> + <p> + Next day the Sister was there, and Bella bowed to her when she met her. + This time it was the Sister who went and sat on the bench. + </p> + <p> + Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last could not resist the + temptation. She came and sat down on the bench, and blushed; as much as to + say, “I have the courage to come, but not to speak upon a certain subject, + which shall be nameless.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy. She opened a conversation. + “I committed a fault yesterday. I spoke to you of myself, and of the past: + it is discouraged by our rules. We are bound to inquire the griefs of + others; not to tell our own.” + </p> + <p> + This was a fair opening, but Bella was too delicate to show her wounds to + a fresh acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very different. + </p> + <p> + “But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. Some time ago I nursed + a gentleman whom love had laid on a sick-bed.” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman! What! can they love as we do?” said Bella, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Not many of them; but this was an exception. But I don't know whether I + ought to tell these secrets to so young a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—please—what else is there in this world worth talking + about? Tell me about the poor man who could love as we can.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go on. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he was a man of the world, and he had not always been a good man; + but he was trying to be. He had fallen in love with a young lady, and seen + the beauty of virtue, and was going to marry her and lead a good life. But + he was a man of honor, and there was a lady for whom he thought it was his + duty to provide. He set his lawyer to draw a deed, and his lawyer + appointed a day for signing it at her house. The poor man came because his + lawyer told him. Do you think there was any great harm in that?” + </p> + <p> + “No; of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, he lost his love for that.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bruce's color began to come and go, and her supple figure to crouch a + little. She said nothing. + </p> + <p> + The Sister continued: “Some malicious person went and told the young + lady's father the gentleman was in the habit of visiting that lady, and + would be with her at a certain hour. And so he was; but it was the + lawyer's appointment, you know. You seem agitated.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; not agitated,” said Bella, “but astonished; it is so like a story + I know. A young lady, a friend of mine, had an anonymous letter, telling + her that one she loved and esteemed was unworthy. But what you have told + me shows me how deceitful appearances may be. What was your patient's + name?” + </p> + <p> + “It is against our rules to tell that. But you said an 'anonymous letter.' + Was your friend so weak as to believe an anonymous letter? The writer of + such a letter is a coward, and a coward always is a liar. Show me your + friend's anonymous letter. I may, perhaps, be able to throw a light on + it.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was interrupted by Admiral Bruce, who had approached them + unobserved. “Excuse me,” said he, “but you ladies seem to have hit upon a + very interesting theme.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” said Bella. “I took the liberty to question this lady as to + her experiences of sick-beds, and she was good enough to give me some of + them.” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered this with a sudden appearance of calmness that first amazed + the Sister, then made her smile, she took her father's arm, bowed + politely, and a little stiffly, to her new friend, and drew the admiral + away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” thought the Sister. “I am not to speak to the old gentleman. He is + not in her confidence. Yet she is very fond of him. How she hangs on his + arm! Simplicity! Candor! We are all tarred with the same stick—we + women.” + </p> + <p> + That night Bella was a changed girl—exalted and depressed by turns, + and with no visible reason. + </p> + <p> + Her father was pleased. Anything better than that deadly languor. + </p> + <p> + The next day Bella sat by her father's side in the square, longing to go + to the Sister, yet patiently waiting to be ordered. + </p> + <p> + At last the admiral, finding her dull and listless, said, “Why don't you + go and talk to the Sister? She amuses you. I'll join you when I have + smoked this cigar.” + </p> + <p> + The obedient Bella rose, and went toward the Sister as if compelled. But + when she got to her her whole manner changed. She took her warmly by the + hand, and said, trembling and blushing, and all on fire, “I have brought + you the anonymous letter.” + </p> + <p> + The elder actress took it and ran her eye over it—an eye that now + sparkled like a diamond. “Humph!” said she, and flung off all the dulcet + tones of her assumed character with mighty little ceremony. “This hand is + disguised a little, but I think I know it. I am sure I do! The dirty + little rascal!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” cried Bella, aghast with surprise at this language. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I know the writer and his rascally motive. You must lend me + this for a day or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Must I?” said Bella. “Excuse me! Papa would be so angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely; but you will lend it to me for all that; for with this I can + clear Miss Bruce's lover and defeat his enemies.” + </p> + <p> + Bella uttered a faint cry, and trembled, and her bosom heaved violently. + She looked this way and that, like a frightened deer. “But papa? His eye + is on us.” + </p> + <p> + “Never deceive your father!” said the Sister, almost sternly; “but,” + darting her gray eyes right into those dove-like orbs, “give me five + minutes' start—IF YOU REALLY LOVE SIR CHARLES BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + With these words she carried off the letter; and Bella ran, blushing, + panting, trembling, to her father, and clung to him. + </p> + <p> + He questioned her, but could get nothing from her very intelligible until + the Sister was out of sight, and then she told him all without reserve. + </p> + <p> + “I was unworthy of him to doubt him. An anonymous slander. I'll never + trust appearances again. Poor Charles! Oh, my darling! what he must have + suffered if he loves like me.” Then came a shower of happy tears; then a + shower of happy kisses. + </p> + <p> + The admiral groaned, but for a long time he could not get a word in. When + he did it was chilling. “My poor girl,” said he, “this unhappy love blinds + you. What, don't you see the woman is no nun, but some sly hussy that man + has sent to throw dust in your eyes?” + </p> + <p> + Nothing she could say prevailed to turn him from this view, and he acted + upon it with resolution: he confined her excursions to a little garden at + the back of the house, and forbade her, on any pretense, to cross the + threshold. + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset came to the square in another disguise, armed with important + information. But no Bella Bruce appeared to meet her. + </p> + <p> + All this time Richard Bassett was happy as a prince. + </p> + <p> + So besotted was he with egotism, and so blinded by imaginary wrongs, that + he rejoiced in the lovers' separation, rejoiced in his cousin's attack. + </p> + <p> + Polly, who now regarded him almost as a lover, told him all about it; and + already in anticipation he saw himself and his line once more lords of the + two manors—Bassett and Huntercombe—on the demise of Sir + Charles Bassett, Bart., deceased without issue. + </p> + <p> + And, in fact, Sir Charles was utterly defeated. He lay torpid. + </p> + <p> + But there was a tough opponent in the way—all the more dangerous + that she was not feared. + </p> + <p> + One fine day Miss Somerset electrified her groom by ordering her pony + carriage to the door at ten A. M. + </p> + <p> + She took the reins on the pavement, like a man, jumped in light as a + feather, and away rattled the carriage into the City. The ponies were all + alive, the driver's eye keen as a bird's; her courage and her judgment + equal. She wound in and out among the huge vehicles with perfect + composure; and on those occasions when, the traffic being interrupted, the + oratorical powers were useful to fill up the time, she shone with singular + brilliance. The West End is too often in debt to the City, but, in the + matter of chaff, it was not so this day; for whenever she took a peck she + returned a bushel; and so she rattled to the door of Solomon Oldfield, + solicitor, Old Jewry. + </p> + <p> + She penetrated into the inner office of that worthy, and told him he must + come with her that minute to Portman Square. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, madam!” And, as they say in the law reports, gave his + reasons. + </p> + <p> + “Certain, sir!” And gave no reasons. + </p> + <p> + He still resisted. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day and chaff his clients + one after another, and that his connection with the Bassett and + Huntercombe estates should end. + </p> + <p> + Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and consented, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + She drove him westward, wincing every now and then at her close driving, + and told him all, and showed him what she was pleased to call her little + game. He told her it was too romantic. Said he, “You ladies read nothing + but novels; but the real world is quite different from the world of + novels.” Having delivered this remonstrance—which was tolerably + just, for she never read anything but novels and sermons—he + submitted like a lamb, and received her instructions. + </p> + <p> + She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time they were at Admiral + Bruce's door. + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. “Mr. Oldfield, + solicitor, and a lady—on business.” + </p> + <p> + The porter delivered this to the footman with the accuracy which all who + send verbal messages deserve and may count on. “Mr. Oldfield and lady.” + </p> + <p> + The footman, who represented the next step in oral tradition, without + which form of history the Heathen world would never have known that + Hannibal softened the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world that + eleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the size of Putney, + announced the pair as “Mr. and Mrs. Hautville.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know them, I think. Well, I will see them.” + </p> + <p> + They entered, and the admiral stared a little, and wondered how this + couple came together—the keen but plain old man, with clothes + hanging on him, and the dashing beauty, with her dress in the height of + the fashion, and her gauntleted hands. However, he bowed ceremoniously, + and begged his visitors to be seated. + </p> + <p> + Now the folding-doors were ajar, and the <i>soi-disant</i> Mrs. Oldfield + peeped. She saw Bella Bruce at some distance, seated by the fire, in a + reverie. + </p> + <p> + Judge that young lady's astonishment when she looked up and observed a + large white, well-shaped hand, sparkling with diamonds and rubies, + beckoning her furtively. + </p> + <p> + The owner of that sparkling hand soon heard a soft rustle of silk come + toward the door; the very rustle, somehow, was eloquent, and betrayed love + and timidity, and something innocent yet subtle. The jeweled hand went in + again directly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + MEANTIME Mr. Oldfield began to tell the admiral who he was, and that he + was come to remove a false impression about a client of his, Sir Charles + Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “That, sir,” said the admiral, sternly, “is a name we never mention here.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and went to the folding-doors, and deliberately closed them. + </p> + <p> + The Somerset, thus defeated, bit her lip, and sat all of a heap, like a + cat about to spring, looking sulky and vicious. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield persisted, and, as he took the admiral's hint and lowered his + voice, he was interrupted no more, but made a simple statement of those + facts which are known to the reader. + </p> + <p> + Admiral Bruce heard them, and admitted that the case was not quite so bad + as he had thought. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Oldfield proposed that Sir Charles should be re-admitted. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the old admiral, firmly; “turn it how you will, it is too ugly; + the bloom of the thing is gone. Why should my daughter take that woman's + leavings? Why should I give her pure heart to a man about town?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you will break it else,” said Miss Somerset, with affected + politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Give her credit for more dignity, madam, if you please,” replied Admiral + Bruce, with equal politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother dignity!” cried the Somerset. + </p> + <p> + At this free phrase from so well-dressed a lady Admiral Bruce opened his + eyes, and inquired of Oldfield, rather satirically, who was this lady that + did him the honor to interfere in his family affairs. + </p> + <p> + Oldfield looked confused; but Somerset, full of mother-wit, was not to be + caught napping. “I'm a by-stander; and they always see clearer than the + folk themselves. You are a man of honor, sir, and you are very clever at + sea, no doubt, and a fighter, and all that; but you are no match for + land-sharks. You are being made a dupe and a tool of. Who do you think + wrote that anonymous letter to your daughter? A friend of truth? a friend + of injured innocence? Nothing of the sort. One Richard Bassett—Sir + Charles's cousin. Here, Mr. Oldfield, please compare these two + handwritings closely, and you will see I am right.” She put down the + anonymous letter and Richard Bassett's letter to herself; but she could + not wait for Mr. Oldfield to compare the documents, now her tongue was set + going. “Yes, gentlemen, this is new to you; but you'll find that little + scheming rascal wrote them both, and with as base a motive and as black a + heart as any other anonymous coward's. His game is to make Sir Charles + Bassett die childless, and so then this dirty fellow would inherit the + estate; and owing to you being so green, and swallowing an anonymous + letter like pure water from the spring, he very nearly got his way. Sir + Charles has been at death's door along of all this.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, madam! not so loud, please,” whispered Admiral Bruce, looking + uneasily toward the folding, doors. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” bawled the Somerset. “THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T BE + SHAMED. I tell you that your precious letter brought Sir Charles Bassett + to the brink of the grave. Soon as ever he got it he came tearing in his + cab to Miss Somerset's house, and accused her of telling the lie to keep + him—and he might have known better, for the jade never did a + sneaking thing in her life. But, any way, he thought it must be her doing, + miscalled her like a dog, and raged at her dreadful, and at last—what + with love and fury and despair—he had the terriblest fit you ever + saw. He fell down as black as your hat, and his eyes rolled, and his teeth + gnashed, and he foamed at the mouth, and took four to hold him; and + presently as white as a ghost, and given up for dead. No pulse for hours; + and when his life came back his reason was gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, madam!” + </p> + <p> + “For a time it was. How he did rave! and 'Bella' the only name on his + lips. And now he lies in his own house as weak as water. Come, old + gentleman, don't you be too hard; you are not a child, like your daughter; + take the world as it is. Do you think you will ever find a man of fortune + who has not had a lady friend? Why, every single gentleman in London that + can afford to keep a saddle-horse has an article of that sort in some + corner or other; and if he parts with her as soon as his banns are cried, + that is all you can expect. Do you think any mother in Belgravia would + make a row about that? They are downier than you are; they would shrug + their aristocratic shoulders, and decline to listen to the <i>past</i> + lives of their sons-in-law—unless it was all in the newspapers, mind + you.” + </p> + <p> + “If Belgravian mothers have mercenary minds, that is no reason why I + should, whose cheeks have bronzed in the service of a virtuous queen, and + whose hairs have whitened in honor.” + </p> + <p> + On receiving this broadside the Somerset altered her tone directly, and + said, obsequiously: “That is true, sir, and I beg your pardon for + comparing you to the trash. But brave men are pitiful, you know. Then show + your pity here. Pity a gentleman that repented his faults as soon as your + daughter showed him there was a better love within reach, and now lies + stung by an anonymous viper, and almost dying of love and mortification; + and pity your own girl, that will soon lose her health, and perhaps her + life, if you don't give in.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not so weak, madam. She is in better spirits already.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but then she didn't know what he had suffered for <i>her.</i> She + does now, for I heard her moan; and she will die for him now, or else she + will give you twice as many kisses as usual some day, and cry a bucketful + over you, and then run away with her lover. I know women better than you + do; I am one of the precious lot.” + </p> + <p> + The admiral replied only with a look of superlative scorn. This incensed + the Somerset; and that daring woman, whose ear was nearer to the door, and + had caught sounds that escaped the men, actually turned the handle, and + while her eye flashed defiance, her vigorous foot spurned the + folding-doors wide open in half a moment. + </p> + <p> + Bella Bruce lay with her head sidewise on the table, and her hands + extended, moaning and sobbing piteously for poor Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + “For shame, madam, to expose my child,” cried the admiral, bursting with + indignation and grief. He rushed to her and took her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + She scarcely noticed him, for the moment he turned her she caught sight of + Miss Somerset, and recognized her face in a moment. “Ah! the Sister of + Charity!” she cried, and stretched out her hands to her, with a look and a + gesture so innocent, confiding, and imploring, that the Somerset, already + much excited by her own eloquence, took a turn not uncommon with + termagants, and began to cry herself. + </p> + <p> + But she soon stopped that, for she saw her time was come to go, and avoid + unpleasant explanations. She made a dart and secured the two letters. + “Settle it among yourselves,” said she, wheeling round and bestowing this + advice on the whole party; then shot a sharp arrow at the admiral as she + fled: “If you must be a tool of Richard Bassett, don't be a tool and a + dupe by halves. <i>He</i> is in love with her too. Marry her to the + blackguard, and then you will be sure to kill Sir Charles.” Having + delivered this with such volubility that the words pattered out like a + roll of musketry, she flounced out, with red cheeks and wet eyes, rushed + down the stairs, and sprang into her carriage, whipped the ponies, and + away at a pace that made the spectators stare. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield muttered some excuses, and retired more sedately. + </p> + <p> + All this set Bella Bruce trembling and weeping, and her father was some + time before he could bring her to anything like composure. Her first + words, when she could find breath, were, “He is innocent; he is unhappy. + Oh, that I could fly to him!” + </p> + <p> + “Innocent! What proof?” + </p> + <p> + “That brave lady said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Brave lady! A bold hussy. Most likely a friend of the woman Somerset, and + a bird of the same feather. Sir Charles has done himself no good with me + by sending such an emissary.” + </p> + <p> + “No, papa; it was the lawyer brought her, and then her own good heart <i>made + her burst out.</i> Ah! she is not like me: she has courage. What a noble + thing courage is, especially in a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray did you hear the language of this noble lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Every word nearly; and I shall never forget them. They were diamonds and + pearls.” + </p> + <p> + “Of the sort you can pick up at Billingsgate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, papa, she pleaded for <i>him</i> as I cannot plead, and yet I love + him. It was true eloquence. Oh, how she made me shudder! Only think: he + had a fit, and lost his reason, and all for me. What shall I do? What + shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + This brought on a fit of weeping. + </p> + <p> + Her father pitied her, and gave her a crumb of sympathy: said he was sorry + for Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said he, recovering his resolution, “it cannot be helped. He must + expiate his vices, like other men. Do, pray, pluck up a little spirit and + sense. Now try and keep to the point. This woman came from him; and you + say you heard her language, and admire it. Quote me some of it.” + </p> + <p> + “She said he fell down as black as his hat, and his eyes rolled, and his + poor teeth gnashed, and—oh, my darling! my darling! oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “There—there—I mean about other things.” + </p> + <p> + Bella complied, but with a running accompaniment of the sweetest little + sobs. + </p> + <p> + “She said I must be very green, to swallow an anonymous letter like spring + water. Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Green? There was a word!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! But it is the right word. You can't mend it. Try, and you will + see you can't. Of course I was green. Oh! And she said every gentleman who + can afford to keep a saddle-horse has a female friend, till his banns are + called in church. Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “A pretty statement to come to your ears!” + </p> + <p> + “But if it is the truth! 'THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T BE + SHAMED.' Ah! I'll not forget that: I'll pray every night I may remember + those words of the brave lady. Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, take her for your oracle.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to. I always try to profit by my superiors. She has courage: I + have none. I beat about the bush, and talk skim-milk; she uses the very + word. She said we have been the dupe and the tool of a little scheming + rascal, an anonymous coward, with motives as base as his heart is black—oh! + oh! Ay, that is the way to speak of such a man; I can't do it myself, but + I reverence the brave lady who can. And she wasn't afraid even of you, + dear papa. 'Come, old gentleman'—ha! ha! ha!—'take the world + as it is; Belgravian mothers would not break <i>both</i> their hearts for + what is past and gone.' What hard good sense! a thing I always <i>did</i> + admire: because I've got none. But her <i>heart</i> is not hard; after all + her words of fire, that went so straight instead of beating the bush, she + ended by crying for me. Oh! oh! oh! Bless her! Bless her! If ever there + was a good woman in the world, that is one. She was not born a lady, I am + afraid; but that is nothing: she was born a woman, and I mean to make her + acquaintance, and take her for my example in all things. No, dear papa, + women are not so pitiful to women without cause. She is almost a stranger, + yet she cried for me. Can you be harder to me than she is? No; pity your + poor girl, who will lose her health, and perhaps her life. Pity poor + Charles, stung by an anonymous viper, and laid on a bed of sickness for + me. Oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “I do pity you, Bella. When you cry like this, my heart bleeds.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try not to cry, papa. Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “But most of all, I pity your infatuation, your blindness. Poor, innocent + dove, that looks at others by the light of her own goodness, and so sees + all manner of virtues in a brazen hussy. Now answer me one plain question. + You called her 'the Sister!' Is she not the same woman that played the + Sister of Charity?” + </p> + <p> + Bella blushed to the temples, and said, hesitatingly, she was not quite + sure. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Bella. I thought you were going to imitate the jade, and not beat + about the bush. Yes or no?” + </p> + <p> + “The features are very like.” + </p> + <p> + “Bella, you know it is the same woman. You recognized her in a moment. + That speaks volumes. But she shall find I am not to be made 'a dupe and a + tool of' quite so easily as she thinks. I'll tell you what—this is + some professional actress Sir Charles has hired to waylay you. Little + simpleton!” + </p> + <p> + He said no more at that time; but after dinner he ruminated, and took a + very serious, indeed almost a maritime, view of the crisis. “I'm + overmatched now,” thought he. “They will cut my sloop out under the very + guns of the flagship if we stay much longer in this port—a lawyer + against me, and a woman too; there's nothing to be done but heave anchor, + hoist sail, and run for it.” + </p> + <p> + He sent off a foreign telegram, and then went upstairs. “Bella, my dear,” + said he, “pack up your clothes for a journey. We start to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “A journey, papa! A long one?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We shan't double the Horn this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Brighton? Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, farther than that.” + </p> + <p> + “The grave: that is the journey I should like to take.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “So you shall, some day; but just now it is a <i>foreign</i> port you are +bound for. Go and pack.” + </pre> + <p> + “I obey.” And she was creeping off, but he called her back and kissed her, + and said, “Now I'll tell you where you are going; but you must promise me + solemnly not to write one line to Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + She promised, but cried as soon as she had promised; whereat the admiral + inferred he had done wisely to exact the promise. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear,” said he, “we are going to Baden. Your aunt Molineux is + there. She is a woman of great delicacy and prudence, and has daughters of + her own all well married, thanks to her motherly care. She will bring you + to your senses better than I can.” + </p> + <p> + Next evening they left England by the mail; and the day after Richard + Bassett learned this through his servant, and went home triumphant, and, + indeed, wondering at his success. He ascribed it, however, to the Nemesis + which dogs the heels of those who inherit the estate of another. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Such was the only moral reflection he made, though the business in +general, and particularly his share in it, admitted of several. + + Miss Somerset also heard of it, and told Mr. Oldfield; he told Sir +Charles Bassett. +</pre> + <p> + That gentleman sighed deeply, and said nothing. He had lost all hope. + </p> + <p> + The whole matter appeared stagnant for about ten days; and then a delicate + hand stirred the dead waters cautiously. Mr. Oldfield, of all people in + the world, received a short letter from Bella Bruce. + </p> + <p> + “Konigsberg Hotel, BADEN. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bruce presents her compliments to Mr. Oldfield, and will feel much + obliged if he will send her the name and address of that brave lady who + accompanied him to her father's house. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bruce desires to thank that lady, personally, for her noble defense + of one with whom it would be improper for her to communicate; but she can + never be indifferent to his welfare, nor hear of his sufferings without + deep sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” said Solomon Oldfield. “What am I to do? I mustn't tell her + it is Miss Somerset.” So the wary lawyer had a copy of the letter made, + and sent to Miss Somerset for instructions. + </p> + <p> + Miss Somerset sent for Mr. Marsh, who was now more at her beck and call + than ever, and told him she had a ticklish letter to write. “I can talk + with the best,” said she, “but the moment I sit down and take up a pen + something cold runs up my shoulder, and then down my backbone, and I'm + palsied; now you are always writing, and can't say 'Bo' to a goose in + company. Let us mix ourselves; I'll walk about and speak my mind, and then + you put down the cream, and send it.” + </p> + <p> + From this ingenious process resulted the following composition: + </p> + <p> + “She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call 'the brave lady' happened to + know the truth, and that tempted her to try and baffle an anonymous + slanderer, who was ruining the happiness of a lady and gentleman. Being a + person of warm impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishes to + retire into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce's desire to know + her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but at present she must + deny herself that honor. If her reasons were known, Miss Bruce would not + be offended nor hurt; she would entirely approve them.” + </p> + <p> + Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, disconsolate, his + servant told him a lady wanted to see him. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort of a nun, Sir + Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that nursed me. Admit her, by + all means.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister came in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received her with + profound respect, and thanked her, with some little hesitation, for her + kind attention to him. She stopped him by saying that was merely her duty. + “But,” said she, softly, “words fell from you, on the bed of sickness, + that touched my heart; and besides I happen to know the lady.” + </p> + <p> + “You know my Bella!” cried Sir Charles. “Ah, then no wonder you speak so + kindly; you can feel what I have lost. She has left England to avoid me.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better. Where she is the door cannot be closed in your face. She + is at Baden. Follow her there. She has heard the truth from Mr. Oldfield, + and she knows who wrote the anonymous letter.” + </p> + <p> + “And who did?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Richard Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + This amazed Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrel!” said he, after a long silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you, for his own ends? I would go + at once to Baden. Your leaving England would be one more proof to her that + she has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you will win her, I + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He rose from his chair, + flushed with sudden hope and ardor. “I'll leave for Baden to-morrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister rose to retire. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Sir Charles. “I have not thanked you. I ought to go down + on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and now you + give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust me with + your name?” + </p> + <p> + “We have no name.” + </p> + <p> + “Your voice at times sounds very like—no, I will not affront you by + such a comparison.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm her sister,” said she, like lightning. + </p> + <p> + This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent and + uncomfortable. It gave him a chill. + </p> + <p> + The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. “It + must be as beautiful as your heart.” + </p> + <p> + The Sister shook her head. “My face has been disfigured by a frightful + disorder.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity. + </p> + <p> + “I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me as you seem to do. But + perhaps it will not always be so.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. Can I do nothing for you, + who have done so much for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—unless—” said she, feigning vast timidity, “you could + spare me that ring of yours, as a remembrance of the part I have played in + this affair.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles colored. It was a ruby of the purest water, and had been two + centuries in his family. He colored, but was too fine a gentleman to + hesitate. He said, “By all means. But it is a poor thing to offer <i>you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “I shall value it very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more. I am fortunate in having anything you deign to accept.” + </p> + <p> + And so the ring changed hands. + </p> + <p> + The Sister now put it on her middle finger, and held up her hand, and her + bright eyes glanced at it, through her veil, with that delight which her + sex in general feel at the possession of a new bauble. She recovered + herself, however, and told him, soberly, the ring should return to his + family at her death, if not before. + </p> + <p> + “I will give you a piece of advice for it,” said she. “Miss Bruce has foxy + hair; and she is very timid. Don't you take her advice about commanding + her. She would like to be your slave! Don't let her. Coax her to speak her + mind. Make a friend of her. Don't you put her to this—that she must + displease you, or else deceive you. She might choose wrong, especially + with that colored hair.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not in her nature to deceive.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not in her nature to displease. Excuse me; I am too fanciful, and + look at women too close. But I know your happiness depends on her. All + your eggs are in that one basket. Well, I have told you how to carry the + basket. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles saw her out, and bowed respectfully to her in the hall, while + his servant opened the street door. He did her this homage as his + benefactress. + </p> + <p> + When admiral and Miss Bruce reached Baden Mrs. Molineux was away on a + visit; and this disappointed Admiral Bruce, who had counted on her + assistance to manage and comfort Bella. Bella needed the latter very much. + A glance at her pale, pensive, lovely face was enough to show that sorrow + was rooted at her heart. She was subjected to no restraint, but kept the + house of her own accord, thinking, as persons of her age are apt to do, + that her whole history must be written in her face. Still, of course, she + did go out sometimes; and one cold but bright afternoon she was strolling + languidly on the parade, when all in a moment she met Sir Charles Bassett + face to face. + </p> + <p> + She gave an eloquent scream, and turned pale a moment, and then the hot + blood came rushing, and then it retired, and she stood at bay, with + heaving bosom—and great eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles held out both hands pathetically. “Don't you be afraid of me.” + </p> + <p> + When she found he was so afraid of offending her she became more + courageous. “How dare you come here?” said she, but with more curiosity + than violence, for it had been her dream of hope he would come. + </p> + <p> + “How could I keep away, when I heard you were here?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not speak to me, sir; I am forbidden.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not condemn me unheard.” + </p> + <p> + “If I listen to you I shall believe you. I won't hear a word. Gentlemen + can do things that ladies cannot even speak about. Talk to my aunt + Molineux; our fate depends on her. This will teach you not to be so + wicked. What business have gentlemen to be so wicked? Ladies are not. No, + it is no use; I will not hear a syllable. I am ashamed to be seen speaking + to you. You are a bad character. Oh, Charles, is it true you had a fit?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you been very ill? You look ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I am better now, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest! Don't call me names. How dare you keep speaking to me when I + request you not?” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't excuse myself, and obtain my pardon, and recover your love, + unless I am allowed to speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can speak to my aunt Molineux, and she will read you a fine + lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows. But there is her house, the one with the iron gate. Get her + ear first, if you really love me; and don't you ever waylay me again. If + you do, I shall say something rude to you, sir. Oh, I'm so happy!” + </p> + <p> + Having let this out, she hid her face with her hands, and fled like the + very wind. + </p> + <p> + At dinner-time she was in high spirits. + </p> + <p> + The admiral congratulated her. + </p> + <p> + “Brava, Bell! Youth and health and a foreign air will soon cure you of + that folly.” + </p> + <p> + Bella blushed deeply, and said nothing. The truth struggled within her, + too, but she shrank from giving pain, and receiving expostulation. + </p> + <p> + She kept the house, though, for two days, partly out of modesty, partly + out of an honest and pious desire to obey her father as much as she could. + </p> + <p> + The third day Mrs. Molineux arrived, and sent over to the admiral. + </p> + <p> + He invited Bella to come with him. She consented eagerly, but was so long + in dressing that he threatened to go without her. She implored him not to + do that; and after a monstrous delay, the motive of which the reader may + perhaps divine, father and daughter called on Mrs. Molineux. She received + them very affectionately. But when the admiral, with some hesitation, + began to enter on the great subject, she said, quietly, “Bella, my dear, + go for a walk, and come back to me in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Molineux!” said Bella, extending both her hands imploringly to that + lady. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Molineux was proof against this blandishment, and Bella had to go. + </p> + <p> + When she was gone, this lady, who both as wife and mother was literally a + model, rather astonished her brother the admiral. She said: “I am sorry to + tell you that you have conducted this matter with perfect impropriety, + both you and Bella. She had no business to show you that anonymous letter; + and when she did show it you, you should have taken it from her, and told + her not to believe a word of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And married my daughter to a libertine! Why, Charlotte, I am ashamed of + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Molineux colored high; but she kept her temper, and ignored the + interruption. “Then, if you decided to go into so indelicate a question at + all (and really you were not bound to do so on anonymous information), + why, then, you should have sent for Sir Charles, and given him the letter, + and put him on his honor to tell you the truth. He would have told you the + fact, instead of a garbled version; and the fact is that before he knew + Bella he had a connection, which he prepared to dissolve, on terms very + honorable to himself, as soon as he engaged himself to your daughter. What + is there in that? Why, it is common, universal, among men of fashion. I am + so vexed it ever came to Bella's knowledge: really it is dreadful to me, + as a mother, that such a thing should have been discussed before that + child. Complete innocence means complete ignorance; and that is how all my + girls went to their husbands. However, what we must do now is to tell her + Sir Charles has satisfied me he was not to blame; and after that the + subject must never be recurred to. Sir Charles has promised me never to + mention it, and no more shall Bella. And now, my dear John, let me + congratulate you. Your daughter has a high-minded lover, who adores her, + with a fine estate: he has been crying to me, poor fellow, as men will to + a woman of my age; and if you have any respect for my judgment—ask + him to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + She added that it might be as well if, after dinner, he were to take a + little nap. + </p> + <p> + Admiral Bruce did not fall into these views without discussion. I spare + the reader the dialogue, since he yielded at last; only he stipulated that + his sister should do the dinner, and the subsequent siesta. + </p> + <p> + Bella returned looking very wistful and anxious. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, niece,” said Mrs. Molineux. “Kneel you at my knee. Now look—me + in the face. Sir Charles has loved you, and you only, from the day he + first saw you. He loves you now as much as ever. Do you love him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aunt! aunt!” A shower of kisses, and a tear or two. + </p> + <p> + “That is enough. Then dry your eyes, and dress your beautiful hair a + little better than <i>that;</i> for he dines with me to-day!” + </p> + <p> + Who so bright and happy now as Bella Bruce? + </p> + <p> + The dreaded aunt did not stop there. She held that after the peep into + real life Bella Bruce had obtained, for want of a mother's vigilance, she + ought to be a wife as soon as possible. So she gave Sir Charles a hint + that Baden was a very good place to be married in; and from that moment + Sir Charles gave Bella and her father no rest till they consented. + </p> + <p> + Little did Richard Bassett, in England, dream what was going on at Baden. + He now surveyed the chimneys of Huntercombe Hall with resignation, and + even with growing complacency, as chimneys that would one day be his, + since their owner would not be in a hurry to love again. He shot Sir + Charles's pheasants whenever they strayed into his hedgerows, and he lived + moderately and studied health. In a word, content with the result of his + anonymous letter, he confined himself now to cannily out-living the + wrongful heir—his cousin. + </p> + <p> + One fine frosty day the chimneys of Huntercombe began to show signs of + life; vertical columns of blue smoke rose in the air, one after another, + till at last there were about forty going. + </p> + <p> + Old servants flowed down from London. New ones trickled in, with their + boxes, from the country. Carriages were drawn out into the stable-yard, + horses exercised, and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to live on + his estates, and not alone. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett went about inquiring cautiously. + </p> + <p> + The rumor spread and was confirmed by some little facts. + </p> + <p> + At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all smoking, the + church-bells began to peal. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply. He found the village + all agog with expectation. + </p> + <p> + Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and a flag floated from + the top of Huntercombe House. Murmurs. Distant cheers. Approaching cheers. + The clatter of horses' feet. The roll of wheels. Huntercombe gates flung + wide open by a cluster of grooms and keepers. + </p> + <p> + Then on came two outriders, ushered by loud hurrahs, and followed by a + carriage and four that dashed through the village amid peals of delight + from the villagers. The carriage was open, and in it sat Sir Charles and + Bella Bassett. She was lovelier than ever; she dazzled the very air with + her beauty and her glorious hair. The hurrahs of the villagers made her + heart beat; she pressed Sir Charles's hand tenderly, and literally shone + with joy and pride; and so she swept past Richard Bassett; she saw him + directly, shuddered a moment, and half clung to her husband; then on + again, and passed through the open gates amid loud cheers. She alighted in + her own hall, and walked, nodding and smiling sunnily, through two files + of domestics and retainers; and thought no more of Richard Bassett than + some bright bird that has flown over a rattlesnake and glanced down at + him. + </p> + <p> + But a gorgeous bird cannot always be flying. A snake can sometimes creep + under her perch, and glare, and keep hissing, till she shudders and droops + and lays her plumage in the dust. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + GENERALLY deliberate crimes are followed by some great punishment; but + they are also often attended in their course by briefer chastisements—single + strokes from the whip that holds the round dozen in reserve. These + precursors of the grand expiation are sharp but kindly lashes, for they + tend to whip the man out of the wrong road. + </p> + <p> + Such a stroke fell on Richard Bassett: he saw Bella Bruce sweep past him, + clinging to her husband, and shuddering at himself. For this, then, he had + plotted and intrigued and written an anonymous letter. The only woman he + had ever loved at all went past him with a look of aversion, and was his + enemy's wife, and would soon be the mother of that enemy's children, and + blot him forever out of the coveted inheritance. + </p> + <p> + The man crept home, and sat by his little fireside, crushed. Indeed, from + that hour he disappeared, and drank his bitter cup alone. + </p> + <p> + After a while it transpired in the village that he was very ill. The + clergyman went to visit him, but was not admitted. The only person who got + to see him was his friend Wheeler, a small but sharp attorney, by whose + advice he acted in country matters. This Wheeler was very fond of + shooting, and could not get a crack at a pheasant except on Highmore; and + that was a bond between him and its proprietor. It was Wheeler who had + first told Bassett not to despair of possessing the estates, since they + had inserted Sir Charles's heir at law in the entail. + </p> + <p> + This Wheeler found him now so shrunk in body, so pale and haggard in face, + and dejected in mind, that he was really shocked, and asked leave to send + a doctor from a neighboring town. + </p> + <p> + “What to do?” said Richard, moodily. “It's my mind; it's not my body. Ah, + Wheeler, it is all over. I and mine shall never have Huntercombe now.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what it is,” said Wheeler, almost angrily, “you will have + six feet by two of it before long if you go on this way. Was ever such + folly! to fret yourself out of this jolly world because you can't get one + particular slice of its upper crust. Why, one bit of land is as good as + another; and I'll show you how to get land—in this neighborhood, + too. Ay, right under Sir Charles's nose.” + </p> + <p> + “Show me that,” said Bassett, gloomily and incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Leave off moping, then, and I will. I advise the bank, you know, and + 'Splatchett's' farm is mortgaged up to the eyes. It is not the only one. I + go to the village inns, and pick up all the gossip I hear there.” + </p> + <p> + “How am I to find money to buy land?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll put you up to that, too; but you must leave off moping. Hang it, + man, never say die. There are plenty of chances on the cards. Get your + color back, and marry a girl with money, and turn that into land. The + first thing is to leave off grizzling. Why, you are playing the enemy's + game. That can't be right, can it?” + </p> + <p> + This remark was the first that really roused the sick man. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler had too few clients to lose one. He now visited Bassett almost + daily, and, being himself full of schemes and inventions, he got Bassett, + by degrees, out of his lethargy, and he emerged into daylight again; but + he looked thin, and yellow as a guinea, and he had turned miser. He kept + but one servant, and fed her and himself at Sir Charles Bassett's expense. + He wired that gentleman's hares and rabbits in his own hedges. He went out + with his gun every sunny afternoon, and shot a brace or two of pheasants, + without disturbing the rest; for he took no dog with him to run and yelp, + but a little boy, who quietly tapped the hedgerows and walked the sunny + banks and shaws. They never came home empty-handed. + </p> + <p> + But on those rarer occasions when Sir Charles and his friends beat the + Bassett woods Richard was sure to make a large bag; for he was a cool, + unerring shot, and flushed the birds in hedgerows, slips of underwood, + etc., to which the fairer sportsmen had driven them. + </p> + <p> + These birds and the surplus hares he always sold in the market-town, and + put the money into a box. The rabbits he ate, and also squirrels, and, + above all, young hedgehogs: a gypsy taught him how to cook them, viz., by + inclosing them in clay, and baking them in wood embers; then the bristles + adhere to the burned clay, and the meat is juicy. He was his own gardener, + and vegetables cost him next to nothing. + </p> + <p> + So he went on through all the winter months, and by the spring his health + and strength were restored. Then he turned woodman, cut down every stick + of timber in a little wood near his house, and sold it; and then set to + work to grub up the roots for fires, and cleared it for tillage. The sum + he received for the wood was much more than he expected, and this he made + a note of. + </p> + <p> + He had a strong body, that could work hard all day, a big hate, and a + mania for the possession of land. And so he led a truly Spartan life, and + everybody in the village said he was mad. + </p> + <p> + While he led this hard life Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were the gayest + of the gay. She was the beauty and the bride. Visits and invitations + poured in from every part of the country. Sir Charles, flattered by the + homage paid to his beloved, made himself younger and less fastidious to + indulge her; and the happy pair often drove twelve miles to dinner, and + twenty to dine and sleep—an excellent custom in that country, one of + whose favorite toasts is worth recording: “MAY YOU DINE WHERE YOU PLEASE, + AND SLEEP WHERE YOU DINE.” + </p> + <p> + They were at every ball, and gave one or two themselves. + </p> + <p> + Above all, they enjoyed society in that delightful form which is confined + to large houses. They would have numerous and well-assorted visitors + staying at the house for a week or so, and all dining at a huge round + table. But two o'clock P.M. was the time to see how hosts and guests + enjoyed themselves. The hall door of Huntercombe was approached by a + flight of stone steps, easy of ascent, and about twenty-four feet wide. At + the riding hour the county ladies used to come, one after another, holding + up their riding-habits with one hand, and perch about this gigantic flight + of steps like peacocks, and chatter like jays, while the servants walked + their horses about the gravel esplanade, and the four-in-hand waited a + little in the rear. A fine champing of bits and fidgeting of thoroughbreds + there was, till all were ready; then the ladies would each put out her + little foot, with charming nonchalance, to the nearest gentleman or groom, + with a slight preference for the grooms, who were more practiced. The man + lifted, the lady sprang at the same time, and into her saddle like a bird—Lady + Bassett on a very quiet pony, or in the carriage to please some dowager—and + away they clattered in high spirits, a regular cavalcade. It was a hunting + county, and the ladies rode well; square seat, light hand on the snaffle, + the curb reserved for cases of necessity; and, when they had patted the + horse on the neck at starting, as all these coaxing creatures must, they + rode him with that well-bred ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse + which distinguishes ladies who have ridden all their lives from the gawky + snobbesses in Hyde Park, who ride, if riding it can be called, with their + elbows uncouthly fastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at + the pit of their stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a + housemaid's, sawing the poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while + the whole body breathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, + “Look at me; I am on horseback! Be startled at that—as I am! and I + have had lessons from a riding-master. He has taught me how a lady should + ride”—in his opinion, poor devil. + </p> + <p> + The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the clattering of these bright + cavalcades, with the music of the women excited by motion, furnished a + picture of wealth and gayety and happy country life that cheered the whole + neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with the stern Spartan life of him + who had persuaded himself he was the rightful owner of Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found himself a bad one. + One day he made a little mistake, which, owing to his popularity, was very + gently handled by the Bench at their weekly meeting; but still Sir Charles + was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly to Oldfield for law books, + and that gentleman sent him an excellent selection bound in smooth calf. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except hunting days, when + no squire can work; and as his study was his justice room, he took care to + find an authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, and rustic + offenders, especially poachers and runaway farm servants, used to think + themselves fortunate if they were taken before him and not before Squire + Powys, who was sure to give them the sharp edge of the law. So now Sir + Charles was useful as well as ornamental. + </p> + <p> + Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only one little cloud—there + was no sign yet of a son and heir. But let a man be ever so powerful, it + is an awkward thing to have a bitter, inveterate enemy at his door + watching for a chance. Sir Charles began to realize this in the sixteenth + month of his wedded bliss. A small estate called “Splatchett's” lay on his + north side, and a marginal strip of this property ran right into a wood of + his. This strip was wretched land, and the owner, unable to raise any + wheat crop on it, had planted it with larches. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles had made him a liberal offer for “Splatchett's” about six + years ago; but he had refused point-blank, being then in good + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles now received a hint from one of his own gamekeepers that the + old farmer was in a bad way, and talked of selling. So Sir Charles called + on him, and asked him if he would sell “Splatchett's” now. “Why, I can't + sell it twice,” said the old man, testily. “You ha' got it, han't ye?” It + turned out that Richard Bassett had been beforehand. The bank had pressed + for their money, and threatened foreclosure; then Bassett had stepped in + with a good price; and although the conveyance was not signed, a stamped + agreement was, and neither vender nor purchaser could go back. What made + it more galling, the proprietor was not aware of the feud between the + Bassetts, and had thought to please Sir Charles by selling to one of his + name. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles Bassett went home seriously vexed. He did not mean to tell his + wife; but love's eye read his face, love's arm went round his neck, and + love's soft voice and wistful eyes soon coaxed it out of him. “Dear + Charles,” said she, “never mind. It is mortifying; but think how much you + have, and how little that wicked man has. Let him have that farm; he has + lost his self-respect, and that is worth a great many farms. For my part, + I pity the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wife will try, + against him, to make you happy, my own beloved; and I think I may prove as + strong as Mr. Bassett,” said she, with a look of inspiration. + </p> + <p> + Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight a scratch. + </p> + <p> + But they had not done with “Splatchett's” yet. Just after Christmas Sir + Charles invited three gentlemen to beat his more distant preserves. Their + guns bellowed in quick succession through the woods, and at last they + reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid shooting, as a great many + cock pheasants had already been seen running ahead. + </p> + <p> + But when they got to the end of the wood they found Lawyer Wheeler + standing against a tree just within “Splatchett's” boundary, and one of + their own beaters reported that two boys were stationed in the road, each + tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to that strip of + land, on which the low larches and high grass afforded a strong covert. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary. + </p> + <p> + Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the cock pheasants, one + after another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escaped him + and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firing from the + hard road. Only those were spared that flew northward into “Splatchett's.” + It was a veritable slaughter, planned with judgment, and carried out in a + most ungentlemanlike and unsportsmanlike manner. + </p> + <p> + It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After several vain efforts to + restrain himself, he shouldered his gun, and, followed by his friends, + went bursting through the larches to Richard Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bassett,” said he, “this is most ungentlernanly conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, sir? Am I on your ground?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you are taking a mean advantage of our being out. Who ever heard + of a gentleman beating his boundaries the very day a neighbor was out + shooting, and filling them with his game?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is it, is it? When justice is against you you can talk of law, + and when law is against you you appeal to justice. Let us be in one story + or the other, please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me by birth. You + have got them by legal trickery. Keep them while you live. <i>They will + come to me one day, you know.</i> Meantime, leave me my little estate of + 'Splatchett's.' For shame, sir; you have robbed me of my inheritance and + my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few cock pheasants? Why, you have made + me so poor they are an object to me now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Sir Charles, “if you are stealing my game to keep body and soul + together, I pity you. In that case, perhaps you will let my friends help + you fill your larder.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near at the + sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent. + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” said he, adroitly. “Mr. Markham, your father often shot + with mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little + 'Splatchett's.' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy bunglers, + and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for the gentlemen. They + shall have the sport. I only want the birds.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whiz + into the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followed by a + shower of feathers. + </p> + <p> + His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He left them + in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she got it all from + him. She was very indignant at many of the things; but as for Sir Charles, + all his cousin's arrows glided off that high-minded gentleman, except one, + and that quivered in his heart. “Yes, Bella,” said he, “he told me he + should inherit these estates. That is because we are not blessed with + children.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sighed. “But we shall be some day. Shall we not?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” said Sir Charles, gloomily. “I wonder whether there was + really anything unfair done on our side when the entail was cut off?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that likely, dearest? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven seems to be on his side.” + </p> + <p> + “On the side of a wicked man?” + </p> + <p> + “But he may be the father of innocent children.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he is not even married.” + </p> + <p> + “He will marry. He will not throw a chance away. It makes my head dizzy, + and my heart sick. Bella, now I can understand two enemies meeting alone + in some solitary place, and one killing the other in a moment of rage; for + when this scoundrel insulted me I remembered his anonymous letter, and all + his relentless malice. Bella, I could have raised my gun and shot him like + a weasel.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett screamed faintly, and flung her arms round his neck. “Oh, + Charles, pray to God against such thoughts. You shall never go near that + man again. Don't think of our one disappointment: think of all the + blessings we enjoy. Never mind that wretched man's hate. Think of your + wife's love. Have I not more power to make you happy than he has to + afflict you, my adored?” These sweet words were accompanied by a wife's + divine caresses; with the honey of her voice, and the liquid sunshine of + her loving eyes. Sir Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgot his + one grief and his one enemy for a time. + </p> + <p> + Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and thought deeply of Richard + Bassett and “his unrelenting, impenitent malice.” Women of her fine fiber, + when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often divinations. + The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time by flashes of + lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events to come, And so + it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror of the future and + of Richard Bassett crept over her—a terror disproportioned to his + past acts and apparent power. Perhaps she was oppressed by having an enemy—she, + who was born to be loved. At all events, she was full of feminine + divinations and forebodings, and saw, by flashes, many a poisoned arrow + fly from that quiver and strike the beloved breast. It had already + discharged one that had parted them for a time, and nearly killed Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but left a sober dread and + a strange resolution. This timid creature, stimulated by love, determined + to watch the foe, and defend her husband with all her little power. All + manner of devices passed through her head, but were rejected, because, if + Love said “Do wonders,” Timidity said “Do nothing that you have not seen + other wives do.” So she remained, scheming, and longing, and fearing, and + passive, all day. But the next day she conceived a vague idea, and, all in + a heat, rang for her maid. While the maid was coming she fell to blushing + at her own boldness, and, just as the maid opened the door, her + thermometer fell so low that—she sent her upstairs for a piece of + work. Oh, lame and impotent conclusion! + </p> + <p> + Just before luncheon she chanced to look through a window, and to see the + head gamekeeper crossing the park, and coming to the house. Now this was + the very man she wanted to speak to. The sudden temptation surprised her + out of her timidity. She rang the bell again, and sent for the man. + </p> + <p> + That Colossus wondered in his mind, and felt uneasy at an invitation so + novel. However, he clattered into the morning-room, in his velveteen coat, + and leathern gaiters up to his thigh, pulled his front hair, bobbed his + head, and then stood firm in body as was he of Rhodes, but in mind much + abashed at finding himself in her ladyship's presence. + </p> + <p> + The lady, however, did not prove so very terrible. “May I inquire your + name, sir?” said she, very respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Moses Moss, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moss, I wish to ask you a question or two. <i>May</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + “That you may, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to explain, if you will be so good, how the proprietor of + 'Splatchett's' can shoot all Sir Charles's pheasants.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! my lady, we ain't come down to that. But he do shoot more than his + share, that's sure an' sartain. Well, my lady, if you please, game is just + like Christians: it will make for sunny spots. Highmore has got a many of + them there, with good cover; so we breeds for him. As for 'Splatchett's,' + that don't hurt we, my lady; it is all arable land and dead hedges, with + no bottom; only there's one little tongue of it runs into North Wood, and + planted with larch; and, if you please, my lady, there is always a kind of + coarse grass grows under young larches, and makes a strong cover for game. + So, beat North Wood which way you will, them artful old cocks will run + ahead of ye, or double back into them larches. And you see Mr. Bassett is + not a gentleman, like Sir Charles; he is always a-mouching about, and the + biggest poacher in the parish; and so he drops on to 'em out of bounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no way of stopping all this, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “We might station a dozen beaters ahead. They would most likely get shot; + but I don't think as they'd mind that much if you had set your heart on + it, my lady. Dall'd if I would, for one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Moss! Heaven forbid that any man should be shot for me. No, not + for all the pheasants in the world. I'll try and think of some other way. + I should like to see the place. <i>May</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lady, and welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I get to it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You can ride to the 'Woodman's Rest,' my lady, and it is scarce a + stone's-throw from there; but 'tis baddish traveling for the likes of + you.” + </p> + <p> + She appointed an hour, rode with her groom to the public-house, and thence + was conducted through bush, through brier, to the place where her husband + had been so annoyed. + </p> + <p> + Moss's comments became very intelligible to her the moment she saw the + place. She said very little, however, and rode home. + </p> + <p> + Next day she blushed high, and asked Sir Charles for a hundred pounds to + spend upon herself. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles smiled, well pleased, and gave it her, and a kiss into the + bargain. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but,” said she, “that is not all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of it. You spend too little money on yourself—a great + deal too little.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a complaint you won't have long to make. I want to cut down a few + trees. <i>May</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + “Going to build?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me. It is for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough. Cut down every stick on the estate if you like. The barer + it leaves us the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Charles, you promised me not. I shall cut with great discretion, I + assure you.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“As you please,” said Sir Charles. “If you want to make me happy, deny +yourself nothing. Mind, I shall be angry if you do.” + + Soon after this a gaping quidnunc came to Sir Charles and told him +Lady Bassett was felling trees in North Wood. +</pre> + <p> + “And pray who has a better right to fell trees in any wood of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “But she is building a wall.” + </p> + <p> + “And who has a better right to build a wall?” + </p> + <p> + With the delicacy of a gentleman he would not go near the place after this + till she asked him; and that was not long, She came into his study, all + beaming, and invited him to a ride. She took him into North Wood, and + showed him her work. Richard Bassett's plantation, hitherto divided from + North Wood only by a boundary scarcely visible, was now shut off by a + brick wall: on Sir Charles's side of that wall every stick of timber was + felled and removed for a distance of fifty yards, and about twenty yards + from the wall a belt of larches was planted, a little higher than + cabbages. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked amazed at first, but soon observed how thoroughly his + enemy was defeated. “My poor Bella,” said he, “to think of your taking all + this trouble about such a thing!” He stopped to kiss her very tenderly, + and she shone with joy and innocent pride. “And I never thought of this! + You astonish me, Bella.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said she, in high spirits now; “and, what is more, I have astonished + Mr. Moss. He said, 'I wish I had your head-piece, my lady.' I could have + told him Love sharpens a woman's wits; but I reserved that little adage + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all mighty fine, fair lady, but you have told me a fib. You said it + was to be all for yourself, and got a hundred pounds out of me.” + </p> + <p> + “And so it was for myself, you silly thing. Are you not myself? and the + part of myself I love the best?” And her supple wrist was round his neck + in a moment. + </p> + <p> + They rode home together, like lovers, and comforted each other. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett, with Wheeler's assistance, had borrowed money on Highmore + to buy “Splatchett's”; he now borrowed money on “Splatchett's,” and bought + Dean's Wood—a wood, with patches of grass, that lay on the east of + Sir Charles's boundary. He gave seventeen hundred pounds for it, and sold + two thousand pounds' worth of timber off it the first year. This sounds + incredible; but, owing to the custom of felling only ripe trees, landed + proprietors had no sure clew to the value of all the timber on an acre. + Richard Bassett had found this out, and bought Dean's Wood upon the above + terms—<i>i.e.,</i> the vender gave him the soil and three hundred + pounds gratis. He grubbed the roots and sold them for fuel, and planted + larches to catch the overflow of Sir Charles's game. The grass grew + beautifully, now the trees were down, and he let it for pasture. + </p> + <p> + He then, still under Wheeler's advice, came out into the world again, + improved his dress, and called on several county families, with a view to + marrying money. + </p> + <p> + Now in the country they do not despise a poor gentleman of good lineage, + and Bassett was one of the oldest names in the county; so every door was + open to him; and, indeed, his late hermit life had stimulated some + curiosity. This he soon turned to sympathy, by telling them that he was + proud but poor. Robbed of the vast estates that belonged to him by birth, + he had been unwilling to take a lower position. However, Heaven had + prospered him; the wrongful heir was childless; he was the heir at law, + and felt he owed it to the estate, which must return to his line, to + assume a little more public importance than he had done. + </p> + <p> + Wherever he was received he was sure to enlarge upon his wrongs; and he + was believed; for he was notoriously the direct heir to Bassett and + Huntercombe, but the family arrangement by which his father had been + bought out was known only to a few. He readily obtained sympathy, and many + persons were disgusted at Sir Charles's illiberality in not making him + some compensation. To use the homely expression of Govett, a small + proprietor, the baronet might as well have given him back one pig out of + his own farrow—<i>i.e.,</i> one of the many farms comprised in that + large estate. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles learned that Richard was undermining him in the county, but + was too proud to interfere; he told Lady Bassett he should say nothing + until some <i>gentleman</i> should indorse Mr. Bassett's falsehoods. + </p> + <p> + One day Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were invited to dine and sleep at Mr. + Hardwicke's, distance fifteen miles; they went, and found Richard Bassett + dining there, by Mrs. Hardwicke's invitation, who was one of those ninnies + that fling guests together with no discrimination. + </p> + <p> + Richard had expected this to happen sooner or later, so he was + comparatively prepared, and bowed stiffly to Sir Charles. Sir Charles + stared at him in return. This was observed. People were uncomfortable, + especially Mrs. Hardwicke, whose thoughtlessness was to blame for it all. + </p> + <p> + At a very early hour Sir Charles ordered his carriage, and drove home, + instead of staying all night. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hardwicke, being a fool, must make a little more mischief. She + blubbered to her husband, and he wrote Sir Charles a remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles replied that he was the only person aggrieved; Mr. Hardwicke + ought not to have invited a blackguard to meet <i>him.</i> + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a Bassett called a + blackguard before, and had seen nothing in Mr. Bassett to justify an + epithet so unusual among gentlemen. “And, to be frank with you, Sir + Charles,” said he, “I think this bitterness against a poor gentleman, + whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is not consistent with + your general character, and is, indeed, unworthy of you.” + </p> + <p> + To this Sir Charles Bassett replied: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MR. HARDWICK—You have applied some remarks to me which I will + endeavor to forget, as they were written in entire ignorance of the truth. + But if we are to remain friends, I expect you to believe me when I tell + you that Mr. Richard Bassett has never been wronged by me or mine, but has + wronged me and Lady Bassett deeply. He is a dishonorable scoundrel, not + entitled to be received in society; and if, after this assurance, you + receive him, I shall never darken your doors again. So please let me know + your decision. + </p> + <p> + “I remain + </p> + <p> + “Yours truly, + </p> + <p> + “CHARLES DYKE BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this; but Prudence stepped in. He was one of + the county members, and Sir Charles could command three hundred votes. + </p> + <p> + He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles's letter with pain, but, + of course, he could not disbelieve him, and therefore he should invite Mr. + Bassett no more till the matter was cleared. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled at his own meanness; + so he sent Sir Charles's letter to Mr. Richard Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Bassett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, raving with insults, to + Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + He was in the act of directing it when Wheeler called on him. Bassett + showed him Sir Charles's letter. Wheeler read it. + </p> + <p> + “Now read what I say to him in reply.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler read Bassett's letter, threw it into the fire, and kept it there + with the poker. + </p> + <p> + “Lucky I called,” said he, dryly. “Saved you a thousand pounds or so. You + must not write a letter without me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, am I to sit still and be insulted? You're a pretty friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a wise friend. This is a more serious matter than you seem to + think.” + </p> + <p> + “Libel?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted <i>me,</i> I could not have + dictated a better letter. It closes every chink a defendant in libel can + creep out by. Now take your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke.” + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—I have received your letter, containing a libel written by + Sir Charles Bassett. My reply will be public. + </p> + <p> + “Yours very truly, + </p> + <p> + “RICHARD BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Every syllable. Now mind; you never go to Hardwicke House again; Sir + Charles has got you banished from that house; special damage! There never + was a prettier case for a jury—the rightful heir foully slandered by + the possessor of his hereditary estates.” + </p> + <p> + This picture excited Bassett, and he walked about raving with malice, and + longing for the time when he should stand in the witness-box and denounce + his enemy. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Wheeler, “leave that to counsel; you must play the mild + victim in the witness-box. Who is the defendant solicitor? We ought to + serve the writ on him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; serve it on himself.” + </p> + <p> + “What for? Much better proceed like gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett got in a passion at being contradicted in everything. “I tell + you,” said he, “the more I can irritate and exasperate this villain the + better. Besides, he slandered me behind my back; and I'll have the writ + served upon himself. I'll do everything I can to take him down. If a man + wants to be my lawyer he must enter into my feelings a little.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever now, consented somewhat + reluctantly, and called at Huntercombe Hall next day with the writ, and + sent in his card. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. Bassett's friend. + </p> + <p> + The butler said he thought it was. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett went to Sir Charles in his study. “Oh, my dear,” said she, + “here is Mr. Bassett's lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Why does he come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am so afraid of Mr. Bassett. He is our evil genius. Let me see this + person instead of you. <i>May</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Might I see him <i>first,</i> love?” + </p> + <p> + “You will not see him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You know, Charles, I don't + often presume to meddle; but I am in torture about this man. If you + receive him, may I be with you? Then we shall be two to one.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Sir Charles, testily. Then, seeing her beautiful eyes fill + at the refusal and the unusual tone, he relented. “You may be in hearing + if you like. Open that door, and sit in the little room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + She stepped into the room—a very small sitting-room. She had never + been in it before, and while she was examining it, and thinking how she + could improve its appearance, Mr. Wheeler was shown into the study. Sir + Charles received him standing, to intimate that the interview must be + brief. This, and the time he had been kept waiting in the hall, roused + Wheeler's bile, and he entered on his subject more bruskly than he had + intended. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles Bassett, you wrote a letter to Mr. Hardwicke, reflecting on + my client, Mr. Bassett—a most unjustifiable letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep your opinion to yourself, sir. I wrote a letter, calling him what he + is.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; that letter is a libel.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a malicious libel, sir; and we shall punish you for it. I hereby + serve you with this copy of a writ. Damages, five thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + A sigh from the next room passed unnoticed by the men, for their voices + were now raised in anger. + </p> + <p> + “And so that is what you came here for. Why did you not go to my + solicitor? You must be as great a blackguard as your client, to serve your + paltry writs on me in my own house.” + </p> + <p> + “Not blackguard enough to insult a gentleman in my own house. If you had + been civil I might have accommodated matters; but now I'll make you smart—ugh!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing provokes a high-spirited man more than a menace. Sir Charles, + threatened in his wife's hearing, shot out his right arm with surprising + force and rapidity, and knocked Wheeler down in a moment. + </p> + <p> + In came Lady Bassett, with a scream, and saw the attorney lying doubled + up, and Sir Charles standing over him, blowing like a grampus with rage + and excitement. + </p> + <p> + But the next moment be staggered and gasped, and she had to support him to + a seat. She rang the bell for aid, then kneeled, and took his throbbing + temples to her wifely bosom. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler picked himself up, and, seated on his hams, eyed the pair with + concentrated fury. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! You have hurt yourself more than me. Two suits against you now + instead of one.” + </p> + <p> + “Conduct this person from the house,” said Lady Bassett to a servant who + entered at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “All right, my lady,” said Wheeler; “I'll remind you of that word when + this house belongs to us.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + WITH this bitter reply Wheeler retired precipitately; the shaft pierced + but one bosom; for the devoted wife, with the swift ingenuity of woman's + love, had put both her hands right over her husband's ears that he might + hear no more insults. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles very nearly had a fit; but his wife loosened his neckcloth, + caressed his throbbing head, and applied eau-de-Cologne to his nostrils. + He got better, but felt dizzy for about an hour. She made him come into + her room and lie down; she hung over him, curling as a vine and light as a + bird, and her kisses lit softly as down upon his eyes, and her words of + love and pity murmured music in his ears till he slept, and that danger + passed. + </p> + <p> + For a day or two after this both Sir Charles and Lady Bassett avoided the + unpleasant subject. But it had to be faced; so Mr. Oldfield was summoned + to Huntercombe, and all engagements given up for the day, that he might + dine alone with them and talk the matter over. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles thought he could justify; but when it came to the point he + could only prove that Richard had done several ungentleman-like things of + a nature a stout jury would consider trifles. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield said of course they must enter an appearance; and, this done, + the wisest course would be to let him see Wheeler, and try to compromise + the suit. “It will cost you a thousand pounds, Sir Charles, I dare say; + but if it teaches you never to write of an enemy or to an enemy without + showing your lawyer the letter first, the lesson will be cheap. Somebody + in the Bible says, 'Oh, that mine enemy would write a book!' I say, 'Oh, + that he would write a letter—without consulting his solicitor.” + </p> + <p> + It was Lady Bassett's cue now to make light of troubles. “What does it + matter, Mr. Oldfield? All they want is money. Yes, offer them a thousand + pounds to leave him in peace.” + </p> + <p> + So next day Mr. Oldfield called on Wheeler, all smiles and civility, and + asked him if he did not think it a pity cousins should quarrel before the + whole county. + </p> + <p> + “A great pity,” said Wheeler. “But my client has no alternative. No + gentleman in the county would speak to him if he sat quiet under such + contumely.” + </p> + <p> + After beating about the bush the usual time, Oldfield said that Sir + Charles was hungry for litigation, but that Lady Bassett was averse to it. + “In short, Mr. Wheeler, I will try and get Mr. Bassett a thousand pounds + to forego this scandal.” + </p> + <p> + “I will consult him, and let you know,” said Wheeler. “He happens to be in + the town.” + </p> + <p> + Oldfield called again in an hour. Wheeler told him a thousand pounds would + be accepted, with a written apology. + </p> + <p> + Oldfield shook his head. “Sir Charles will never write an apology: right + or wrong, he is too sincere in his conviction.” + </p> + <p> + “He will never get a jury to share it.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not be too sure of that. You don't know the defense.” + </p> + <p> + Oldfield said this with a gravity which did him credit. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know it yourself?” said the other keen hand. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield smiled haughtily, but said nothing. Wheeler had hit the mark. + </p> + <p> + “By the by,” said the latter, “there is another little matter. Sir Charles + assaulted me for doing my duty to my client. I mean to sue him. Here is + the writ; will you accept service?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly, Mr. Wheeler and I am glad to find you do not make a habit + of serving writs on gentlemen in person.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. I did it on a single occasion, contrary to my own wish, + and went in person—to soften the blow—instead of sending my + clerk.” + </p> + <p> + After this little spar, the two artists in law bade each other farewell + with every demonstration of civility. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles would not apologize. + </p> + <p> + The plaintiff filed his declaration. + </p> + <p> + The defendant pleaded not guilty, but did not disclose a defense. The law + allows a defendant in libel this advantage. + </p> + <p> + Plaintiff joined issue, and the trial was set down for the next assizes. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was irritated, but nothing more. Lady Bassett, with a woman's + natural shrinking from publicity, felt it more deeply. She would have + given thousands of her own money to keep the matter out of court. But her + very terror of Richard Bassett restrained her. She was always thinking + about him, and had convinced herself he was the ablest villain in the wide + world; and she thought to herself, “If, with his small means, he annoys + Charles so, what would he do if I were to enrich him? He would crush us.” + </p> + <p> + As the trial drew near she began to hover about Sir Charles in his study, + like an anxious hen. The maternal yearnings were awakened in her by + marriage, and she had no child; so her Charles in trouble was husband and + child. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she would come in and just kiss his forehead, and run out again, + casting back a celestial look of love at the door, and, though it was her + husband she had kissed, she blushed divinely. At last one day she crept in + and said, very timidly, “Charles dear, the anonymous letter—is not + that an excuse for libeling him—as they call telling the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course it is. Have you got it?” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest, the brave lady took it away.” + </p> + <p> + “The brave lady! Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield and pleaded your cause with + papa—oh, so eloquently! Sometimes when I think of it now I feel + almost jealous. Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “From what you have always told me, I think it was the Sister of Charity + who nursed me.” + </p> + <p> + “You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that was only put on. + Charles, tell me the truth. What does it matter <i>now?</i> It was some + lady who loved you.” + </p> + <p> + “Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Women's love is so disinterested—sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; she told me she was a sister of—, and no doubt that is the + truth.” + </p> + <p> + “A sister of whom?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, on + second thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be better not + to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would try to + get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Bassett wrote it. + </p> + <p> + “I see no harm in that,” said Sir Charles; “only confine your + communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writing to + a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less I + understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “There are people who do good by stealth,” suggested Bella timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Fiddledeedee!” replied Sir Charles; “you are a goose—I mean an + angel.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded the + spirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MR. OLDFIELD—You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charles + will soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by some + great orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base, + and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dear husband, + in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The brave lady has + it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wish I dare ask her to + give it me with her own hand; but I must not, I suppose. Pray tell her how + unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor us with a word of advice as well + as the letter. + </p> + <p> + “I remain, yours faithfully, + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did what was + expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Bassett's letter, and some + lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty in a more + businesslike way. + </p> + <p> + In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country, + hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she would sent + up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she had kept it at + all. + </p> + <p> + Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly, urging + expedition. + </p> + <p> + This produced an effect that he had not anticipated. + </p> + <p> + One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about five + miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she must ride to + cover. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We shall + soon have publicity enough.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of, and + you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion.” + </p> + <p> + “I obey,” said Bella. + </p> + <p> + “And look your best.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “And be in good spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “Must I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try. Oh!—oh!—oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you poor-spirited little goose! Dry your eyes this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “There. Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “And kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + “There. Ah! kissing you is a great comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now run away and put on your + habit. I'll have two grooms out; one with a fresh horse for me, and one to + look after you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Charles! Pray don't make me hunt.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Not so tyrannical as that; hang it all!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I do while you are hunting? I pray all the time that you + may not get a fall and be hurt; and I pray God to forgive you and all the + gentlemen for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogs after one poor + little inoffensive thing, to hunt it and kill it—kill it twice, + indeed; once with terror, and then over again with mangling its poor + little body.” + </p> + <p> + “This is cheerful,” said Sir Charles, rather ruefully. “We cannot all be + angels, like you. It is a glorious excitement. There! you are too good for + this world; I'll let you off going.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, dear. I won't be let off, now I know your wish. Only I beg to ride + home as soon as the poor thing runs away. You wouldn't get me out of the + thick covers if I were a fox. I'd run round and round, and call on all my + acquaintances to set them running.” + </p> + <p> + As she said this her eyes turned toward each other in a peculiar way, and + she looked extremely foxy; but the look melted away directly. + </p> + <p> + The hounds met, and Lady Bassett, who was still the beauty of the county, + was surrounded by riders at first; but as the hounds began to work, and + every now and then a young hound uttered a note, they cantered about, and + took up different posts, as experience suggested. + </p> + <p> + At last a fox was found at the other end of the cover, and away galloped + the hunters in that direction, all but four persons, Lady Bassett, and her + groom, who kept respectfully aloof, and a lady and gentleman who had + reined their horses up on a rising ground about a furlong distant. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett, thus left alone, happened to look round, and saw the lady + level an opera-glass toward her and look through it. + </p> + <p> + As a result of this inspection the lady cantered toward her. She was on a + chestnut gelding of great height and bone, and rode him as if they were + one, so smoothly did she move in concert with his easy, magnificent + strides. + </p> + <p> + When she came near Lady Bassett she made a little sweep and drew up beside + her on the grass. + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking that tall figure and commanding face. It was the + brave lady. Her eyes sparkled; her cheek was slightly colored with + excitement; she looked healthier and handsomer than ever, and also more + feminine, for a reason the sagacious reader may perhaps discern if he + attends to the dialogue. + </p> + <p> + <i>“So,”</i> said she, without bowing or any other ceremony, “that little + rascal is troubling you again.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett colored and panted, and looked lovingly at her, before she + could speak. At last she said, “Yes; and you have come to help us again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the lawyer said there was no time to lose; so I have brought you + the anonymous letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, madam, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm afraid it will be of no use unless you can prove Mr. Bassett + wrote it. It is in a disguised hand.” + </p> + <p> + “But you found him out by means of another letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I can't give you that other letter to have it read in a court of + law, because—Do you see that gentleman there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That is Marsh.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a fool; but I am going to marry him. I have been very ill since I + saw you, and poor Marsh nursed me. Talk of women nurses! If ever you are + ill in earnest, as I was, write to me, and I'll send you Marsh. Oh, I have + no words to tell you his patience, his forbearance, his watchfulness, his + tenderness to a sick woman. It is no use—I must marry him; and I + could have no letter published that would give him pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. Oh, madam, do you think I am capable of doing anything + that would give you pain, or dear Mr. Marsh either?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; you are a good woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Not half so good as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know what you are saying.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good-by, Lady Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “Must you leave me so soon? Will you not visit us? May I not know the name + of so good a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Next week I shall be <i>Mrs. Marsh.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “And you will give me the great pleasure of having you at my house—you + and your husband?” + </p> + <p> + The lady showed some agitation at this—an unusual thing for her. She + faltered: “Some day, perhaps, if I make him as good a wife as I hope to. + What a lady you are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; but you are + a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of myself; and they are all + coming this way, by the dogs' music.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you kiss me, after bringing me this?” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss you?” and she opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said Lady Bassett, bending toward her, with eyes full of + gratitude and tenderness. + </p> + <p> + Then the other woman took her by the shoulders, and plunged her great gray + orbs into Bella's. + </p> + <p> + They kissed each other. + </p> + <p> + At that contact the stranger seemed to change her character all in a + moment. She strained Bella to her bosom and kissed her passionately, and + sobbed out, wildly, “O God! you are good to sinners. This is the happiest + hour of my life—it is a forerunner. Bless you, sweet dove of + innocence! You will be none the worse, and I am all the better—Ah! + Sir Charles. Not one word about me to him.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words, uttered with sudden energy, she spurred her great + horse, leaped the ditch, and burst through the dead hedge into the wood, + and winded out of sight among the trees. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles came up astonished. “Why, who was that?” + </p> + <p> + Bella's eyes began to rove, as I have before described; but she replied + pretty promptly, “The brave lady herself; she brought me the anonymous + letter for your defense.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how came she to know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “She did not tell me that. She was in a great hurry. Her fiance was + waiting for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it necessary to kiss her in the hunting-field?” said Sir Charles, + with something very like a frown. + </p> + <p> + “I'd kiss the whole field, grooms and all, if they did you a great + service, as that dear lady has,” said Bella. The words were brave, but the + accent piteous. + </p> + <p> + “You are excited, Bella. You had better ride home,” said Sir Charles, + gently enough, but moodily. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Charles,” said Bella, glad to escape further examination about + this mysterious lady. She rode home accordingly. There she found Mr. + Oldfield, and showed him the anonymous letter. + </p> + <p> + He read it, and said it was a defense, but a disagreeable one. “Suppose he + says he wrote it, and the facts were true?” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't think he will confess it. He is not a gentleman. He is very + untruthful. Can we not make this a trap to catch him, sir? <i>He</i> has + no scruples.” + </p> + <p> + Oldfield looked at her in some surprise at her depth. + </p> + <p> + “We must get hold of his handwriting,” said he. “We must ransack the local + banks; find his correspondents.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave all that to me,” said Lady Bassett, in a low voice. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mr. Oldfield thought he might as well please a beautiful and loving +woman, if he could; so he gave her something to do for her husband. +“Very well; collect all the materials of comparison you can—letters, +receipts, etc. Meantime I will retain the two principal experts in +London, and we will submit your materials to them the night before the +trial.” + </pre> + <p> + Lady Bassett, thus instructed, drove to all the banks, but found no clerk + acquainted with Mr. Bassett's handwriting. He did not bank with anybody in + the county. + </p> + <p> + She called on several persons she thought likely to possess letters or + other writings of Richard Bassett. Not a scrap. + </p> + <p> + Then she began to fear. The case looked desperate. + </p> + <p> + Then she began to think. And she thought very hard indeed, especially at + night. + </p> + <p> + In the dead of night she had an idea. She got up, and stole from her + husband's side, and studied the anonymous letter. + </p> + <p> + Next day she sat down with the anonymous letter on her desk, and blushed, + and trembled, and looked about like some wild animal scared. She selected + from the anonymous letter several words—“character, abused, Sir, + Charles, Bassett, lady, abandoned, friend, whether, ten, slanderer” etc.—and + wrote them on a slip of paper. Then she locked up the anonymous letter. + Then she locked the door. Then she sat down to a sheet of paper, and, + after some more wild and furtive glances all around, she gave her whole + mind to writing a letter. + </p> + <p> + And to whom did she write, think you? + </p> + <p> + To Richard Bassett. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + “MR. BASSETT—I am sure both yourself and my husband will suffer in + public estimation, unless some friend comes between you, and this unhappy + lawsuit is given up. + </p> + <p> + “Do not think me blind nor presumptuous; Sir Charles, when he wrote that + letter, had reason to believe you had done him a deep injury by unfair + means. Many will share that opinion if this cause is tried. You are his + cousin, and his heir at law. I dread to see an unhappy feud inflamed by a + public trial. Is there no personal sacrifice by which I can compensate the + affront you have received, without compromising Sir Charles Bassett's + veracity, who is the soul of honor? + </p> + <p> + “I am, yours obediently, + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + She posted this letter, and Richard Bassett had no sooner received it than + he mounted his horse and rode to Wheeler's with it. + </p> + <p> + That worthy's eyes sparkled. “Capital!” said he. “We must draw her on, and + write an answer that will read well in court.” + </p> + <p> + He concocted an epistle just the opposite of what Richard Bassett, left to + himself, would have written. Bassett copied, and sent it as his own. + </p> + <p> + “LADY BASSETT—I thank you for writing to me at this moment, when I + am weighed down by slander. Your own character stands so high that you + would not deign to write to me if you believed the abuse that has been + lavished on me. With you I deplore this family feud. It is not of my + seeking; and as for this lawsuit, it is one in which the plaintiff is + really the defendant. Sir Charles has written a defamatory letter, which + has closed every house in this county to his victim. If, as I now feel + sure, you disapprove the libel, pray persuade him to retract it. The rest + our lawyers can settle, + </p> + <p> + “Yours very respectfully, + </p> + <p> + “RICHARD BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + When Lady Bassett read this, she saw she had an adroit opponent. Yet she + wrote again: + </p> + <p> + “MR. BASSETT—There are limits to my influence with Sir Charles. I + have no power to make him say one word against his convictions. + </p> + <p> + “But my lawyer tells me you seek pecuniary compensation for an affront. I + offer you, out of my own means, which are ample, that which you seek—offer + it freely and heartily; and I honestly think you had better receive it + from me than expose yourself to the risks and mortifications of a public + trial. + </p> + <p> + “I am, yours obediently, + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + “LADY BASSETT—You have fallen into a very natural error. It is true + I sue Sir Charles Bassett for money; but that is only because the law + allows me my remedy in no other form. What really brings me into court is + the defense of my injured honor. How do you meet me? You say, virtually, + 'Never mind your character: here is money.' Permit me to decline it on + such terms. + </p> + <p> + “A public insult cannot be cured in private. + </p> + <p> + “Strong in my innocence, and my wrongs, I court what you call the risks of + a public trial. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever the result, <i>you</i> have played the honorable and womanly + part of peacemaker; and it is unfortunate for your husband that your + gentle influence is limited by his vanity, which perseveres in a cruel + slander, instead of retracting it while there is yet time. + </p> + <p> + “I am, madam, yours obediently, + </p> + <p> + “RICHARD BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + “MR. BASSETT—I retire from a correspondence which appears to be + useless, and might, if prolonged, draw some bitter remark from me, as it + has from you. + </p> + <p> + “After the trial, which you court and I deprecate, you will perhaps review + my letters with a more friendly eye. + </p> + <p> + “I am, yours obediently, + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + In this fencing-match between a lawyer and a lady each gained an + advantage. The lawyer's letters, as might have been expected, were the + best adapted to be read to a jury; but the lady, subtler in her way, + obtained, at a small sacrifice, what she wanted, and that without raising + the slightest suspicion of her true motive in the correspondence. + </p> + <p> + She announced her success to Mr. Oldfield; but, in the midst of it, she + quaked with terror at the thought of what Sir Charles would say to her for + writing to Mr. Bassett at all. + </p> + <p> + She now, with the changeableness of her sex, hoped and prayed Mr. Bassett + would admit the anonymous letter, and so all her subtlety and pains prove + superfluous. + </p> + <p> + Quaking secretly, but with a lovely face and serene front, she took her + place at the assizes, before the judge, and got as near him as she could. + </p> + <p> + The court was crowded, and many ladies present. + </p> + <p> + <i>Bassett v. Bassett</i> was called in a loud voice; there was a hum of + excitement, then a silence of expectation, and the plaintiff's counsel + rose to address the jury. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + “MAY it please your Lordship: Gentlemen of the Jury—The plaintiff in + this case is Richard Bassett, Esquire, the direct and lineal + representative of that old and honorable family, whose monuments are to be + seen in several churches in this county, and whose estates are the + largest, I believe, in the county. He would have succeeded, as a matter of + course, to those estates, but for an arrangement made only a year before + he was born, by which, contrary to nature and justice, he was denuded of + those estates, and they passed to the defendant. The defendant is nowise + to blame for that piece of injustice; but he profits by it, and it might + be expected that his good fortune would soften his heart toward his + unfortunate relative. I say that if uncommon tenderness might be expected + to be shown by anybody to this deserving and unfortunate gentleman, it + would be by Sir Charles Bassett, who enjoys his cousin's ancestral + estates, and can so well appreciate what that cousin has lost by no fault + of his own.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear! hear!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence in the court!” + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge.</i>—I must request that there may be no manifestation + of feeling. + </p> + <p> + <i>Counsel.</i>—I will endeavor to provoke none, my lord. It is a + very simple case, and I shall not occupy you long. Well, gentlemen, Mr. + Bassett is a poor man, by no fault of his; but if he is poor, he is proud + and honorable. He has met the frowns of fortune like a gentleman—like + a man. He has not solicited government for a place. He has not whined nor + lamented. He has dignified unmerited poverty by prudence and self-denial; + and, unable to forget that he is a Bassett, he has put by a little money + every year, and bought a small estate or two, and had even applied to the + Lord-Lieutenant to make him a justice of the peace, when a most severe and + unexpected blow fell upon him. Among those large proprietors who respected + him in spite of his humbler circumstances was Mr. Hardwicke, one of the + county members. Well, gentlemen, on the 21st of last May Mr. Bassett + received a letter from Mr. Hardwicke inclosing one purporting to be from + Sir Charles Bassett— + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge.</i>—Does Sir Charles Bassett admit the letter? + </p> + <p> + <i>Defendant's Counsel</i> (after a word with Oldfield).—Yes, my + lord. + </p> + <p> + <i>Plaintiff's Counsel.</i>—A letter admitted to be written by Sir + Charles Bassett. That letter shall be read to you. + </p> + <p> + The letter was then read. + </p> + <p> + The counsel resumed: “Conceive, if you can, the effect of this blow, just + as my unhappy and most deserving client was rising a little in the world. + I shall prove that it excluded him from Mr. Hardwicke's house, and other + houses too. He is a man of too much importance to risk affronts. He has + never entered the door of any gentleman in this county since his powerful + relative published this cruel libel. He has drawn his Spartan cloak around + him, and he awaits your verdict to resume that place among you which is + due to him in every way—due to him as the heir in direct line to the + wealth, and, above all, to the honor of the Bassetts; due to him as Sir + Charles Bassett's heir at law; and due to him on account of the decency + and fortitude with which he has borne adversity, and with which he now + repels foul-mouthed slander.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear! hear!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence in the court!” + </p> + <p> + “I have done, gentlemen, for the present. Indeed, eloquence, even if I + possessed it, would be superfluous; the facts speak for themselves.—Call + James Hardwicke, Esq.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hardwicke proved the receipt of the letter from Sir Charles, and that + he had sent it to Mr. Bassett; and that Mr. Bassett had not entered his + house since then, nor had he invited him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett was then called, and, being duly trained by Wheeler, abstained + from all heat, and wore an air of dignified dejection. His counsel + examined him, and his replies bore out the opening statement. Everybody + thought him sure of a verdict. + </p> + <p> + He was then cross-examined. Defendant's counsel pressed him about his + unfair way of shooting. The judge interfered, and said that was trifling. + If there was no substantial defense, why not settle the matter? + </p> + <p> + “There is a defense, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is time you disclosed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my lord. Mr. Bassett, did you ever write an anonymous letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that appears to you a trifle. It is not so considered.” + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge.</i>—Be more particular in your question. + </p> + <p> + “I will, my lord.—Did you ever write an anonymous letter, to make + mischief between Sir Charles and Lady Bassett?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said the witness; but he turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say you did not write this letter to Miss Bruce? Look at + the letter, Mr. Bassett, before you reply.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett cast one swift glance of agony at Wheeler; then braced himself + like iron. He examined the letter attentively, turned it over, lived an + age, and said it was not his writing. + </p> + <p> + “Do you swear that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Defendant's Counsel.</i>—I shall ask your lordship to take down + that reply. If persisted in, my client will indict the witness for + perjury. + </p> + <p> + <i>Plaintiff's Counsel.</i>—Don't threaten the witness as well as + insult him, please. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge.</i>—He is an educated man, and knows the duty he owes + to God and the defendant.—Take time, Mr. Bassett, and recollect. Did + you write that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + Counsel waited for the judge to note the reply, then proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “You have lately corresponded with Lady Bassett, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Her ladyship opened a correspondence with me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a lie!” roared Sir Charles Bassett from the door of the grand jury + room. + </p> + <p> + “Silence in the court!” + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge.</i>—Who made that unseemly remark? + </p> + <p> + <i>Sir Charles.</i>—I did, my lord. My wife never corresponded with + the cur. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Plaintiff.</i>—It is only one insult more, gentlemen, and as + false as the rest. Permit me, my lord. My own counsel would never have put + the question. I would not, for the world, give Lady Bassett pain; but Sir + Charles and his counsel have extorted the truth from me. Her ladyship did + open a correspondence with me, and a friendly one. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Plaintiff's Counsel.</i>—Will your lordship ask whether that + was after the defendant had written the libel? + </p> + <p> + The question was put, and answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett hid her face in her hands. Sir Charles saw the movement, and + groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge.</i>—I beg the case may not be encumbered with + irrelevant matter. + </p> + <p> + Counsel replied that the correspondence would be made evidence in the + case. <i>(To the witness.)</i>—“You wrote this letter to Lady + Bassett?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And every word in it?” + </p> + <p> + “And every word in it,” faltered Bassett, now ashy pale, for he began to + see the trap. + </p> + <p> + “Then you wrote this word 'character,' and this word 'injured,' and this + word—” + </p> + <p> + <i>The Judge</i> (peevishly).—He tells you he wrote every word in + those letters to Lady Bassett.—What more would you have? + </p> + <p> + <i>Counsel.</i>—If your lordship will be good enough to examine the + correspondence, and compare those words in it I have underlined with the + same words in the anonymous letter, you will perhaps find I know my + business better than you seem to think. (The counsel who ventured on this + remonstrance was a sergeant.) + </p> + <p> + “Brother Eitherside,” said the judge, with a charming manner, “you + satisfied me of that, to my cost, long ago, whenever I had you against me + in a case. Please hand me the letters.” + </p> + <p> + While the judge was making a keen comparison, counsel continued the + cross-examination. + </p> + <p> + “You are aware that this letter caused a separation between Sir Charles + Bassett and the lady he was engaged to?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Well, were you acquainted with the Miss Somerset mentioned in + this letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Slightly.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been at her house?” + </p> + <p> + “Once or twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Which? Twice is double as often as once, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Twice.” + </p> + <p> + “No more?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I recollect.” + </p> + <p> + “You wrote to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I may have.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you, or did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the purport of that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't recollect at this distance of time.” + </p> + <p> + “On your oath, sir, did you not write urging her to co-operate with you to + keep Sir Charles Bassett from marrying his affianced, Miss Bella Bruce, to + whom that anonymous letter was written with the same object?” + </p> + <p> + The perspiration now rolled in visible drops down the tortured liar's + face. Yet still, by a gigantic effort, he stood firm, and even planted a + blow. + </p> + <p> + “I did not write the anonymous letter. But I believe I told Miss Somerset + I loved Miss Bruce, and that <i>her</i> lover was robbing me of mine, as + he had robbed me of everything else.” + </p> + <p> + “And that was all you said—on your oath?” + </p> + <p> + “All I can recollect.” With this the strong man, cowed, terrified, + expecting his letter to Somerset to be produced, and so the iron chain of + evidence completed, gasped out, “Man, you tear open all my wounds at + once!” and with this burst out sobbing, and lamenting aloud that he had + ever been born. + </p> + <p> + Counsel waited calmly till he should be in a condition to receive another + dose. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, will nobody stop this cruel trial?” said Lady Bassett, with the tears + trickling down her face. + </p> + <p> + The judge heard this remark without seeming to do so. + </p> + <p> + He said to defendant's counsel, “Whatever the truth may be, you have + proved enough to show Sir Charles Bassett might well have an honest + conviction that Mr. Bassett had done a dastardly act. Whether a jury would + ever agree on a question of handwriting must always be doubtful. Looking + at the relationship of the parties, is it advisable to carry this matter + further? If I might advise the gentlemen, they would each consent to + withdraw a juror.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this suggestion the counsel for both parties put their heads together + in animated whispers; and during this the judge made a remark to the jury, + intended for the public: “Since Lady Bassett's name has been drawn into + this, I must say that I have read her letters to Mr. Bassett, and they are + such as she could write without in the least compromising her husband. + Indeed, now the defense is disclosed, they appear to me to be wise and + kindly letters, such as only a good wife, a high-bred lady, and a true + Christian could write in so delicate a matter.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Plaintiff's Counsel.</i>—My lord, we are agreed to withdraw a + juror. + </p> + <p> + <i>Defendant's Counsel.</i>—Out of respect for your lordship's + advice, and not from any doubt of the result on <i>our</i> part. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Crier.</i>—WACE <i>v.</i> HALIBURTON! + </p> + <p> + And so the car of justice rolled on till it came to Wheeler v. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + This case was soon disposed of. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles Bassett was dignified and calm in the witness-box, and treated + the whole matter with high-bred nonchalance, as one unworthy of the + attention the Court was good enough to bestow on it. The judge disapproved + the assault, but said the plaintiff had drawn it on himself by + unprofessional conduct, and by threatening a gentleman in his own house. + Verdict for the plaintiff—40s. The judge refused to certify for + costs. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett, her throat parched with excitement, drove home, and awaited + her husband's return with no little anxiety. As soon as she heard him in + his dressing-room she glided in and went down on her knees to him. “Pray, + pray don't scold me; I couldn't bear you to be defeated, Charles.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles raised her, but did not kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “You think only of me,” said he, rather sadly. “It is a sorry victory, too + dearly bought.” + </p> + <p> + Then she began to cry. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles begged her not to cry; but still he did not kiss her, nor + conceal his mortification: he hardly spoke to her for several days. + </p> + <p> + She accepted her disgrace pensively and patiently. She thought it all + over, and felt her husband was right, and loved her like a man. But she + thought, also, that she was not very wrong to love him in her way. Wrong + or not, she felt she could not sit idle and see his enemy defeat him. + </p> + <p> + The coolness died away by degrees, with so much humility on one side and + so much love on both: but the subject was interdicted forever. + </p> + <p> + A week after the trial Lady Bassett wrote to Mrs. Marsh, under cover to + Mr. Oldfield, and told her how the trial had gone, and, with many + expressions of gratitude, invited her and her husband to Huntercombe Hall. + She told Sir Charles what she had done, and he wore a very strange look. + “Might I suggest that we have them alone?” said he dryly. + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” said Lady Bassett. “I don't want to share my paragon with + anybody.” + </p> + <p> + In due course a reply came; Mr. and Mrs. Marsh would avail themselves some + day of Lady Bassett's kindness: at present they were going abroad. The + letter was written by a man's hand. + </p> + <p> + About this time Oldfield sent Sir Charles Miss Somerset's deed, canceled, + and told him she had married a man of fortune, who was devoted to her, and + preferred to take her without any dowry. + </p> + <p> + Bassett and Wheeler went home, crestfallen, and dined together. They + discussed the two trials, and each blamed the other. They quarreled and + parted: and Wheeler sent in an enormous bill, extending over five years. + Eighty-five items began thus: “Attending you at your house for several + hours, on which occasion you asked my advice as to whether—” etc. + </p> + <p> + Now as a great many of these attendances had been really to shoot game and + dine on rabbits at Bassett's expense, he thought it hard the conversation + should be charged and the rabbits not. + </p> + <p> + Disgusted with his defeat, and resolved to evade this bill, he discharged + his servant, and put a retired soldier into his house, armed him with a + blunderbuss, and ordered him to keep all doors closed, and present the + weapon aforesaid at all rate collectors, tax collectors, debt collectors, + and applicants for money to build churches or convert the heathen; but not + to <i>fire</i> at anybody except his friend Wheeler, nor at him unless he + should try to shove a writ in at some chink of the building. + </p> + <p> + This done, he went on his travels, third-class, with his eyes always open, + and his heart full of bitterness. + </p> + <p> + Nothing happened to Richard Bassett on his travels that I need relate + until one evening when he alighted at a small commercial inn in the city + of York, and there met a person whose influence on the events I am about + to relate seems at this moment incredible to me, though it is simple fact. + </p> + <p> + He found the commercial room empty, and rang the bell. In came the waiter, + a strapping girl, with coal-black eyes and brows to match, and a brown + skin, but glowing cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They both started at sight of each other. It was Polly Somerset. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Polly! How d'ye do? How do you come here?” + </p> + <p> + “It's along of you I'm here, young man,” said Polly, and began to whimper. + She told him her sister had found out from the page she had been + colloguing with him, and had never treated her like a sister after that. + “And when she married a gentleman she wouldn't have me aside her for all I + could say, but she did pack me off into service, and here I be.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was handsome, and had a liking for him. Bassett was idle, and + time hung heavy on his hands: he stayed at the inn a fortnight, more for + Polly's company than anything: and at last offered to put her into a + vacant cottage on his own little estate of Highmore. But the girl was + shrewd, and had seen a great deal of life this last three years; she liked + Richard in her way, but she saw he was all self, and she would not trust + him. “Nay,” said she, “I'll not break with Rhoda for any young man in + Britain. If I leave service she will never own me at all: she is as hard + as iron.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you might come and take service near me, and then we could + often get a word together.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm agreeable to that: you find me a good place. I like an inn best; + one sees fresh faces.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett promised to manage that for her. On reaching home he found a + conciliatory letter from Wheeler, coupled with his permission to tax the + bill according to his own notion of justice. This and other letters were + in an outhouse; the old soldier had not permitted them to penetrate the + fortress. He had entered into the spirit of his instructions, and to him a + letter was a probable hand-grenade. + </p> + <p> + Bassett sent for Wheeler; the bill was reduced, and a small payment made; + the rest postponed till better times. Wheeler was then consulted about + Polly, and he told his client the landlady of the “Lamb” wanted a good + active waitress; he thought he could arrange that little affair. + </p> + <p> + In due course, thanks to this artist, Mary Wells, hitherto known as Polly + Somerset, landed with her boxes at the “Lamb “; and with her quick foot, + her black eyes, and ready tongue soon added to the popularity of the inn. + Richard Bassett, Esq., for one, used to sup there now and then with his + friend Wheeler, and even sleep there after supper. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by the vicar of Huntercombe wanted a servant, and offered to engage + Mary Wells. + </p> + <p> + She thought twice about that. She could neither write nor read, and + therefore was dreadfully dull without company; the bustle of an inn, and + people coming and going, amused her. However, it was a temptation to be + near Richard Bassett; so she accepted at last. Unable to write, she could + not consult him; and she made sure he would be delighted. + </p> + <p> + But when she got into the village the prudent Mr. Bassett drew in his + horns, and avoided her. She was mortified and very angry. She revenged + herself on her employer; broke double her wages. The vicar had never been + able to convert a smasher; so he parted with her very readily to Lady + Bassett, with a hint that she was rather unfortunate in glass and china. + </p> + <p> + In that large house her spirits rose, and, having a hearty manner and a + clapper tongue, she became a general favorite. + </p> + <p> + One day she met Mr. Bassett in the village, and he seemed delighted at the + sight of her, and begged her to meet him that night at a certain place + where Sir Charles's garden was divided from his own by a ha-ha. It was a + very secluded spot, shut out from view, even in daylight, by the trees and + shrubs and the winding nature of the walk that led to it; yet it was + scarcely a hundred yards from Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells came to the tryst, but in no amorous mood. She came merely to + tell Mr. Bassett her mind, viz., that he was a shabby fellow, and she had + had her cry, and didn't care a straw for him now. And she did tell him so, + in a loud voice, and with a flushed cheek. + </p> + <p> + But he set to work, humbly and patiently, to pacify her; he represented + that, in a small house like the vicarage, every thing is known; he should + have ruined her character if he had not held aloof. “But it is different + now,” said he. “You can run out of Huntercombe House, and meet me here, + and nobody be the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” said Mary Wells, with a toss. “The worse thing a girl can do is + to keep company with a gentleman. She must meet him in holes and corners, + and be flung off, like an old glove, when she has served his turn.” + </p> + <p> + “That will never happen to you, Polly dear. We must be prudent for the + present; but I shall be more my own master some day, and then you will see + how I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Seeing is believing,” said the girl, sullenly. “You be too fond of + yourself to love the likes o' me.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the warning her natural shrewdness gave her. But perseverance + undermined it. Bassett so often threw out hints of what he would do some + day, mixed with warm protestations of love, that she began almost to hope + he would marry her. She really liked him; his fine figure and his color + pleased her eye, and he had a plausible tongue to boot. + </p> + <p> + As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his senses; but, for his + heart, she had little place in that. What he courted her for just now was + to keep him informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall. His morbid + soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to Mary Wells's + gossip. He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappoint him. She + never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies or exaggerations. She + was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits, and greeted him thus: + “What d'ye think? I'm riz! Mrs. Eden, that dresses my lady's hair, she + took ill yesterday, and I told the housekeeper I was used to dress hair, + and she told my lady. If you didn't please our Rhoda at that, 'twas as + much as your life was worth. You mustn't be thinking of your young man + with her hair in your hand, or she'd rouse you with a good crack on the + crown with a hair-brush. So I dressed my lady's hair, and handled it like + old chaney; by the same token, she is so pleased with me you can't think. + She is a real lady; not like our Rhoda. Speaks as civil to me as if I was + one of her own sort; and, says she, 'I should like to have you about me, + if I might.' I had it on my tongue to tell her she was mistress; but I was + a little skeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me about + her; I see it in her eye.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett was delighted at this news, but he did not speak his mind all at + once; the time was not come. He let the gypsy rattle on, and bided his + time. He flattered her, and said he envied Lady Bassett to have such a + beautiful girl about her. “I'll let my hair grow,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, do,” said she, “and then I'll pull it for you.” + </p> + <p> + This challenge ended in a little struggle for a kiss, the sincerity of + which was doubtful. Polly resisted vigorously, to be sure, but briefly, + and, having given in, returned it. + </p> + <p> + One day she told him Sir Charles had met her plump, and had given a great + start. + </p> + <p> + This made Bassett very uneasy. “Confound it, he will turn you away. He + will say, 'This girl knows too much.'” + </p> + <p> + “How simple you be!” said the girl. “D'ye think I let him know? Says he, + 'I think I have seen you before.' 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'I was housemaid + here before my lady had me to dress her.' 'No,' says he, 'I mean in London—in + Mayfair, you know.' I declare you might ha' knocked me down wi' a feather. + So I looks in his face, as cool as marble, and I said, 'No, sir; I never + had the luck to see London, sir,' says I. 'All the better for you,' says + he; and he swallowed it like spring water, as sister Rhoda used to say + when she told one and they believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a clever girl,” said Bassett. “He would have turned you out of + the house if he had known who you were.” + </p> + <p> + She disappointed him in one thing; she was bad at answering questions. + Morally she was not quite so great an egotist as himself, but + intellectually a greater. Her volubility was all egotism. She could + scarcely say ten words, except about herself. So, when Bassett questioned + her about Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, she said “Yes,” or “No,” or “I + don't know,” and was off at a tangent to her own sayings and doings. + </p> + <p> + Bassett, however, by great patience and tact, extracted from her at last + that Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were both sore at not having children, + and that Lady Bassett bore the blame. + </p> + <p> + “That is a good joke,” said he. “The smoke-dried rake! Polly, you might do + me a good turn. You have got her ear; open her eyes for me. What might not + happen?” His eyes shone fiendishly. + </p> + <p> + The young woman shook her head. “Me meddle between man and wife! I'm too + fond of my place.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don't love me as I love you. You think only of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think of? Do you love me well enough to find me a better + place, if you get me turned out of Huntercombe Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will; a much better.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a bargain.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells was silly in some things, but she was very cunning, too; and + she knew Richard Bassett's hobby. She told him to mind himself, as well as + Sir Charles, or perhaps he would die a bachelor, and so his flesh and + blood would never inherit Huntercombe. This remark entered his mind. The + trial, though apparently a drawn battle, had been fatal to him—he + was cut; he dared not pay his addresses to any lady in the county, and he + often felt very lonely now. So everything combined to draw him toward Mary + Wells—her swarthy beauty, which shone out at church like a black + diamond among the other women; his own loneliness; and the pleasure these + stolen meetings gave him. Custom itself is pleasant, and the company of + this handsome chatterbox became a habit, and an agreeable one. The young + woman herself employed a woman's arts; she was cold and loving by turns + till at last he gave her what she was working for, a downright promise of + marriage. She pretended not to believe him, and so led him further; he + swore he would marry her. + </p> + <p> + He made one stipulation, however. She really must learn to read and write + first. + </p> + <p> + When he had sworn this Mary became more uniformly affectionate; and as + women who have been in service learn great self-government, and can + generally please so long as it serves their turn, she made herself so + agreeable to him that he began really to have a downright liking for her—a + liking bounded, of course, by his incurable selfishness; but as for his + hobby, that was on her side. + </p> + <p> + Now learning to read and write was wormwood to Mary Wells; but the prize + was so great; she knew all about the Huntercombe estates, partly from her + sister, partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongs even to this + girl.) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, even on the severe condition + of becoming a scholar. She set about it as follows: One day that she was + doing Lady Bassett's hair she sighed several times. This was to attract + the lady's attention, and it succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything the matter, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I think there is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my own people's fault + for not sending of me to school. I might be married to-morrow if I could + only read and write.” + </p> + <p> + “And can you not?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village.” + </p> + <p> + “Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not too + late. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. Shall I + arrange for you to go to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my lady. But then—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me.” + </p> + <p> + “The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, + either. But I won't be his wife to shame him.” (Another sigh.) + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her heart, “you shall not + be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will try and teach + you myself.” + </p> + <p> + Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Bassett received them rather coldly. She + gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day; and + Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half an hour at a + stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She was quick, and + learned very fast. In two months she could read a great deal more than she + could understand, and could write slowly but very clearly. + </p> + <p> + Now by this time Lady Bassett had become so interested in her pupil that + she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts of the + toilet when her services were not required. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England. + Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She never said + one word to Bassett about Lady Bassett's lessons. She kept strict silence + till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line to say she had + learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he would keep his promise. + </p> + <p> + Bassett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, he suspected + it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their next meeting, who had + written that note for her. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. At present, + however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taught her. + </p> + <p> + “I had to teach myself. Nobody cares enough for me to teach me. Well, I'll + forgive you if you will write me a nice letter for mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What! when we can meet here and say everything?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter; I have written to you, and you might write to me. They all get + letters, except me; and the jades hold 'em up to me: they see I never get + one. When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It will only cost + you a penny. I'm sure I don't ask you for much.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett humored her in this, and in one of his letters called her his wife + that was to be. + </p> + <p> + This pleased her so much that the next time they met she hung round his + neck with a good deal of feminine grace. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett was a man who now lived in the future. Everybody in the + county believed he had written that anonymous letter, and he had no hope + of shining by his own light. It was bitter to resign his personal hopes; + but he did, and sullenly resolved to be obscure himself, but the father of + the future heirs of Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, and lay the + blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had blackened him in the county, + and put it out of his power to win a lady's hand. + </p> + <p> + He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he had not the courage to + tell him all at once what a wife he had selected. + </p> + <p> + The consequence of this half confession was that Wheeler went to work to + find him a girl with money, and not under county influence. + </p> + <p> + One of Wheeler's clients was a retired citizen, living in a pretty villa + near the market town. Mr. Wright employed him in little matters, and found + him active and attentive. There was a Miss Wright, a meek little girl, + palish, on whom her father doted. Wheeler talked to this girl of his + friend Bassett, his virtues and his wrongs, and interested the young lady + in him. This done, he brought him to the house, and the girl, being slight + and delicate, gazed with gentle but undisguised admiration on Bassett's <i>torso.</i> + Wheeler had told Richard Miss Wright was to have seven thousand pounds on + her wedding-day, and that excited a corresponding admiration in the + athletic gentleman. + </p> + <p> + After that Bassett often called by himself, and the father encouraged the + intimacy. He was old, and wished to see his daughter married before he + left her and this seemed an eligible match, though not a brilliant one; a + bit of land and a good name on one side, a smart bit of money on the + other. The thing went on wheels. Richard Bassett was engaged to Jane + Wright almost before he was aware. + </p> + <p> + Now he felt uneasy about Mary Wells, very uneasy; but it was only the + uneasiness of selfishness. + </p> + <p> + He began to try and prepare; he affected business visits to distant + places, etc., in order to break off by degrees. By this means their + meetings were comparatively few. When they did meet (which was now + generally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by telling her he + had encountered losses, and feared that to marry her would be a bad job + for her as well as for him, especially if she should have children. + </p> + <p> + Mary replied she had been used to work, and would rather work for a + husband than any other master. + </p> + <p> + On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a gentleman ever broke + his oath. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” said Richard. + </p> + <p> + In short, she gave him no opening. She would not quarrel. She adhered to + him as she had never adhered to anything but a lie before. + </p> + <p> + Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He coolly cut her; never + came to the trysting-place; did not answer her letters; and, being a + reckless egotist, married Jane Wright all in a hurry, by special license. + </p> + <p> + He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, and engaged the + ringers to ring the church-bells from six o'clock till sundown. This was + for Sir Charles's ears. + </p> + <p> + It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was commencing her toilet in + an indolent way, with Mary Wells in attendance, when the church-bells of + Huntercombe struck up a merry peal. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Lady Bassett; “what is that for? Do you know, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady. Shall I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I dare say it is a village wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Our + kitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and know + what it is for.” Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid she + caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to her sweetheart, + and he told her directly. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells. + </p> + <p> + “They are always sad—saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poor + things! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sad to + me—sadder than usual, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shot in—“'Tis + for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home to Highmore to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bassett—married—that is sudden. Who could he find to + marry him?” There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate + the news, and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, + sick with the sudden blow. + </p> + <p> + Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman's eye, + but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise she had + gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the sound of those + church-bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir Charles; but she did + not lift her head, even to give this order. + </p> + <p> + Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles's dressing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it was his valet. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells just opened the door and held it ajar. “My lady bids me tell + you, sir, the bells are ringing for Mr. Bassett; he's married, and brings + her home tonight.” + </p> + <p> + A dead silence marked the effect of this announcement on Sir Charles. Mary + Wells waited. + </p> + <p> + “May Heaven's curse light on that marriage, and no child of theirs ever + take my place in this house!” + </p> + <p> + “A-a-men!” said Mary Wells. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir!” said Sir Charles. He took her voice for a man's, so deep + and guttural was her “A—a—men” with concentrated passion. + </p> + <p> + She closed the door and crept back to her mistress. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair down and her shoulders + bare. Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work; but very soon + Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass. “Mary!” said she, + “what <i>is</i> the matter? You look ghastly, and your hands are as cold + as ice. Are you faint?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are ill; very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I have taken a chill,” said Mary, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spirits and + hot water—quite hot.” + </p> + <p> + Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back hair + with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone. + </p> + <p> + “My lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to hear what the bride is like.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll know that to-night,” said Mary, grinding her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not require you again till bedtime.” + </p> + <p> + Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own + garret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry, upon + her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and writhed + all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded. + </p> + <p> + In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. She got + up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like a + savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot. + </p> + <p> + She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs; but + now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan. She got + the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some spirits; but + she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. They sent the devil into + her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek. She had a little scarlet + shawl; she put it over her head, and went into the village. She found it + astir with expectation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett's house stood near the highway, but the entrance to the + premises was private, and through a long white gate. + </p> + <p> + By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got on that heap and + waited. + </p> + <p> + When she had been there about half an hour, Richard Bassett drove up in a + hired carriage, with his pale little wife beside him. At his own gate his + eye encountered Mary Wells, and he started. She stood above him, with her + arms folded grandly; her cheek, so swarthy and ruddy, was now pale, and + her black eyes glittered like basilisks at him and his bride. The whole + woman seemed lifted out of her low condition, and dignified by wrong. + </p> + <p> + He had to sustain her look for a few seconds, while the gate was being + opened, and it seemed an age. He felt his first pang of remorse when he + saw that swarthy, ruddy cheek so pale. Then came admiration of her beauty, + and disgust at the woman for whom he had jilted her; and that gave way to + fear: the hater looked into those glittering eyes, and saw he had roused a + hate as unrelenting as his own. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + FOR the first few days Richard Bassett expected some annoyance from Mary + Wells; but none came, and he began to flatter himself she was too fond of + him to give him pain. + </p> + <p> + This impression was shaken about ten days after the little scene I have + described. He received a short note from her, as follows: + </p> + <p> + “SIR—You must meet me to-night, at the same place, eight o'clock. If + you do not come it will be the worse for you. + </p> + <p> + “M. W.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett's inclination was to treat this summons with contempt; but + he thought it would be wiser to go and see whether the girl had any + hostile intentions. Accordingly he went to the tryst. He waited for some + time, and at last he heard a quick, firm foot, and Mary Wells appeared. + She was hooded with her scarlet shawl, that contrasted admirably with her + coal-black hair; and out of this scarlet frame her dark eyes glittered. + She stood before him in silence. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing. + </p> + <p> + She was silent too for some time. But she spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, you promised one, and you have married another. Now what are + you going to do for me?” + </p> + <p> + “What <i>can</i> I do, Mary? I'm not the first that wanted to marry for + love, but money came in his way and tempted him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are not the first. But that's neither here nor there, sir. That + chalk-faced girl has bought you away from me with her money, and now I + mean to have my share on't.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if that is all,” said Richard, “we can soon settle it. I was afraid + you were going to talk about a broken heart, and all that stuff. You are a + good, sensible girl; and too beautiful to want a husband long. I'll give + you fifty pounds to forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty pounds!” said Mary Wells, contemptuously. “What! when you promised + me I should be your wife to-day, and lady of Huntercombe Hall by-and-by? + Fifty pounds! No; not five fifties.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll give you seventy-five; and if that won't do, you must go to + law, and see what you can get.” + </p> + <p> + “What, han't you had your bellyful of law? Mind, it is an unked thing to + forswear yourself, and that is what you done at the 'sizes. I have seen + what you did swear about your letter to my sister; Sir Charles have got it + all wrote down in his study: and you swore a lie to the judge, as you + swore a lie to me here under heaven, you villain!” She raised her voice + very loud. “Don't you gainsay me, or I'll soon have you by the heels in + jail for your lies. You'll do as I bid you, and very lucky to be let off + so cheap. You was to be my master, but you chose her instead: well, then, + you shall be my servant. You shall come here every Saturday at eight + o'clock, and bring me a sovereign, which I never could keep a lump o' + money, and I have had one or two from Rhoda; so I'll take it a sovereign a + week till I get a husband of my own sort, and then you'll have to come + down handsome once for all.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett knitted his brows and thought hard. His natural impulse was to + defy her; but it struck him that a great many things might happen in a few + months; so at last he said, humbly, “I consent. I have been to blame. Only + I'd rather pay you this money in some other way.” + </p> + <p> + “My way, or none.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, I will bring it you as you say.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind you do, then,” said Mary Wells, and turned haughtily on her heel. + </p> + <p> + Bassett never ventured to absent himself at the hour, and, at first, the + blackmail was delivered and received with scarcely a word; but by-and-by + old habits so far revived that some little conversation took place. + </p> + <p> + Then, after a while, Bassett used to tell her he was unhappy, and she used + to reply she was glad of it. + </p> + <p> + Then he began to speak slightingly of his wife, and say what a fool he had + been to marry a poor, silly nonentity, when he might have wedded a beauty. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells, being intensely vain, listened with complacency to this, + although she replied coldly and harshly. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by her natural volubility overpowered her, and she talked to + Bassett about herself and Huntercombe House, but always with a secret + reserve. + </p> + <p> + Later—such is the force of habit—each used to look forward + with satisfaction to the Saturday meeting, although each distrusted and + feared the other at bottom. + </p> + <p> + Later still that came to pass which Mary Wells had planned from the first + with deep malice, and that shrewd insight into human nature which many a + low woman has—the cooler she was the warmer did Richard Bassett + grow, till at last, contrasting his pale, meek little wife with this + glowing Hebe, he conceived an unholy liking for the latter. She met it + sometimes with coldness and reproaches, sometimes with affected alarm, + sometimes with a half-yielding manner, and so tormented him to her heart's + content, and undermined his affection for his wife. Thus she revenged + herself on them both to her heart's content. + </p> + <p> + But malice so perverse is apt to recoil on itself; and women, in + particular, should not undertake a long and subtle revenge of this sort; + since the strongest have their hours of weakness, and are surprised into + things they never intended. The subsequent history of Mary Wells will + exemplify this. Meantime, however, meek little Mrs. Bassett was no match + for the beauty and low cunning of her rival. + </p> + <p> + Yet a time came when she defended herself unconsciously. She did something + that made her husband most solicitous for her welfare and happiness. He + began to watch her health with maternal care, to shield her from draughts, + to take care of her diet, to indulge her in all her whims instead of + snubbing her, and to pet her, till she was the happiest wife in England + for a time. She deserved this at his hands, for she assisted him there + where his heart was fixed; she aided his hobby; did more for it than any + other creature in England could. + </p> + <p> + To return to Huntercombe Hall: the loving couple that owned it were no + longer happy. The hope of offspring was now deserting them, and the + disappointment was cruel. They suffered deeply, with this difference—that + Lady Bassett pined and Sir Charles Bassett fretted. + </p> + <p> + The woman's grief was more pure and profound than the man's. If there had + been no Richard Bassett in the world, still her bosom would have yearned + and pined, and the great cry of Nature, “Give me children or I die,” would + have been in her heart, though it would never have risen to her lips. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles had, of course, less of this profound instinct than his wife, + but he had it too; only in him the feeling was adulterated and at the same + time imbittered by one less simple and noble. An enemy sat at his gate. + That enemy, whose enduring malice had at last begotten equal hostility in + the childless baronet, was now married, and would probably have heirs; + and, if so, that hateful brood—the spawn of an anonymous + letter-writer—would surely inherit Bassett and Huntercombe, + succeeding to Sir Charles Bassett, deceased without issue. This chafed the + childless man, and gradually undermined a temper habitually sweet, though + subject, as we have seen, to violent ebullitions where the provocation was + intolerable. Sir Charles, then, smarting under his wound, spoke now and + then rather unkindly to the wife he loved so devotedly; that is to say, + his manner sometimes implied that he blamed her for their joint calamity. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett submitted to these stings in silence. They were rare, and + speedily followed by touching regrets; and even had it not been so she + would have borne them with resignation; for this motherless wife loved her + husband with all a wife's devotion and a mother's unselfish patience. Let + this be remembered to her credit. It is the truth, and she may need it. + </p> + <p> + Her own yearning was too deep and sad for fretfulness; yet though, unlike + her husband's, it never broke out in anger, the day was gone by when she + could keep it always silent. It welled out of her at times in ways that + were truly womanly and touching. + </p> + <p> + When she called on a wife the lady was sure to parade her children. The + boasted tact of women—a quality the narrow compass of which has + escaped their undiscriminating eulogists—was sure to be swept away + by maternal egotism; and then poor Lady Bassett would admire the children + loudly, and kiss them, to please the cruel egotist, and hide the tears + that rose to her own eyes; but she would shorten her visit. + </p> + <p> + When a child died in the village Mary Wells was sure to be sent with words + of comfort and substantial marks of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely a day passed that something or other did not happen to make the + wound bleed; but I will confine myself to two occasions, on each of which + her heart's agony spoke out, and so revealed how much it must have endured + in silence. + </p> + <p> + Since the day when Sir Charles allowed her to sit in a little room close + to his study while he received Mr. Wheeler's visit she had fitted up that + room, and often sat there to be near Sir Charles; and he would sometimes + call her in and tell her his justice cases. One day she was there when the + constable brought in a prisoner and several witnesses. The accused was a + stout, florid girl, with plump cheeks and pale gray eyes. She seemed all + health, stupidity, and simplicity. She carried a child on her left arm. No + dweller in cities could suspect this face of crime. As well indict a calf. + </p> + <p> + Yet the witnesses proved beyond a doubt that she had been seen with her + baby in the neighborhood of a certain old well on a certain day at noon; + that soon after noon she had been seen on the road without her baby, and + being asked what had become of it, had said she had left it with her aunt, + ten miles off; and that about an hour after that a faint cry had been + heard at the bottom of the old well—it was ninety feet deep; people + had assembled, and a brave farmer's boy had been lowered in the bight of a + cart-rope, and had brought up a dead hen, and a live child, bleeding at + the cheek, having fallen on a heap of fagots at the bottom of the well; + which child was the prisoner's. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles had the evidence written down, and then told the accused she + might make a counter-statement if she chose, but it would be wiser to say + nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the accused dropped him a little short courtesy, looked him + steadily in the face with her pale gray eyes, and delivered herself as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir, I was a-sitting by th' old well, with baby in my + arms; and I was mortal tired, I was, wi' carring of him; he be uncommon + heavy for his age; and, if you please, sir, he is uncommon resolute; and + while I was so he give a leap right out of my arms and fell down th' old + well. I screams, and runs away to tell my brother's wife, as lives at top + of the hill; but she was gone into North Wood for dry sticks to light her + oven; and when I comes back they had got him out of the well, and I claims + him directly; and the constable said we must come before you, sir; so here + we be.” + </p> + <p> + This she delivered very glibly, without tremulousness, hesitation, or the + shadow of a blush, and dropped another little courtesy at the end to Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he said not one word to her, but committed her for trial, and + gave the farmer's boy a sovereign. + </p> + <p> + The people were no sooner gone than Lady Bassett came in, with the tears + streaming, and threw herself at her husband's knees. “Oh, Charles! can + such things be? Does God give a child to a woman that has the heart to + kill it, and refuse one to me, who would give my heart's blood to save a + hair of its little head? Oh, what have we done that he singles us out to + be so cruel to us?” + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles tried to comfort her, but could not, and the childless + ones wept together. + </p> + <p> + It began to be whispered that Mrs. Bassett was in the family way. Neither + Sir Charles nor Lady Bassett mentioned this rumor. It would have been like + rubbing vitriol into their own wounds. But this reserve was broken through + one day. It was a sunny afternoon in June, just thirteen months after Mr. + Bassett's wedding—Lady Bassett was with her husband in his study, + settling invitations for a ball, and writing them—when the + church-bells struck up a merry peal. They both left off, and looked at + each other eloquently. Lady Bassett went out, but soon returned, looking + pale and wild. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Yes!”</i> said she, with forced calmness. Then, suddenly losing her + self-command, she broke out, pointing through the window at Highmore, <i>“He</i> + has got a fine boy—to take our place here. Kill me, Charles! Send me + to heaven to pray for you, and take another wife that will love you less + but be like other wives. That villain has married a fruitful vine, and” + (lifting both arms to heaven, with a gesture unspeakably piteous, poetic, + and touching) “I am a barren stock.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + OF all the fools Nature produces with the help of Society, fathers of + first-borns are about the most offensive. + </p> + <p> + The mothers of ditto are bores too, flinging their human dumplings at + every head; but, considering the tortures they have suffered, and the + anguish the little egotistical viper they have just hatched will most + likely give them, and considering further that their love of their + firstborn is greater than their pride, and their pride unstained by + vanity, one must make allowances for them. + </p> + <p> + But the male parent is not so excusable. His fussy vanity is an inferior + article to the mother's silly but amiable pride. His obtrusive affection + is two-thirds of it egotism, and blindish egotism, too; for if, at the + very commencement of the wife's pregnancy the husband is sent to India, or + hanged, the little angel, as they call it—Lord forgive them!—is + nurtured from a speck to a mature infant by the other parent, and finally + brought into the world by her just as effectually as if her male + confederate had been tied to her apron-string: all the time, instead of + expatriated or hanged. + </p> + <p> + Therefore the Law—for want, I suppose, of studying Medicine—is + a little inconsiderate in giving children to fathers, and taking them by + force from such mothers <i>as can support them;</i> and therefore let + Gallina go on clucking over her first-born, but Gallus be quiet, or sing a + little smaller. + </p> + <p> + With these preliminary remarks, let me introduce to you a character new in + fiction, but terribly old in history— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE CLUCKING COCK. +</pre> + <p> + Upon the birth of a son and heir Mr. Richard Bassett was inflated almost + to bursting. He became suddenly hospitable, collected all his few friends + about him, and showed them all the Boy at great length, and talked Boy and + little else. He went out into the world and made calls on people merely to + remind them he had a son and heir. + </p> + <p> + His self-gratulation took a dozen forms; perhaps the most amusing, and the + richest food for satire, was the mock-querulous style, of which he showed + himself a master. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you ever marry,” said he to Wheeler and others. “Look at me; do you + think I am the master of my own house? Not I; I am a regular slave. First, + there is a monthly nurse, who orders me out of my wife's presence, or + graciously lets me in, just as she pleases; that is Queen 1. Then there's + a wet-nurse, Queen 2, whom I must humor in everything, or she will quarrel + with me, and avenge herself by souring her milk. But these are mild + tyrants compared with the young King himself. If he does but squall we + must all skip, and find out what he ails, or what he wants. As for me, I + am looked upon as a necessary evil; the women seem to admit that a father + is an incumbrance without which these little angels could not exist, but + that is all.” + </p> + <p> + He had a christening feast, and it was pretty well attended, for he + reminded all he asked that the young Christian was the heir to the Bassett + estates. They feasted, and the church-bells rang merrily. + </p> + <p> + He had his pew in the church new lined with cloth, and took his wife to be + churched. The nurse was in the pew too, with his son and heir. It squalled + and spoiled the Liturgy. Thereat Gallus chuckled. + </p> + <p> + He made a gravel-walk all along the ha-ha that separated his garden from + Sir Charles's, and called it “The Heir's Walk.” Here the nurse and child + used to parade on sunny afternoons. + </p> + <p> + He got an army of workmen, and built a nursery fit for a duke's nine + children. It occupied two entire stories, and rose in the form of a square + tower high above the rest of his house, which, indeed, was as humble as + “The Heir's Tower” was pretentious. “The Heir's Tower” had a flat lead + roof easy of access, and from it you could inspect Huntercombe Hall, and + see what was done on the lawn or at some of the windows. + </p> + <p> + Here, in the August afternoons, Mr. and Mrs. Bassett used to sit drinking + their tea, with nurse and child; and Bassett would talk to his unconscious + boy, and tell him that the great house and all that belonged to it should + be his in spite of the arts that had been used to rob him of it. + </p> + <p> + Now, of course, the greater part of all this gratulation was merely + amusing, and did no harm except stirring up the bile of a few old + bachelors, and imbittering them worse than ever against clucking cocks, + crowing hens, inflated parents, and matrimony in general. + </p> + <p> + But the overflow of it reached Huntercombe Hall, and gave cruel pain to + the childless ones, over whom this inflated father was, in fact, exulting. + </p> + <p> + As for the christening, and the bells that pealed for it, and the + subsequent churching, they bore these things with sore hearts, and + bravely, being things of course. But when it came to their ears that + Bassett and his family called his new gravel-walk “The Heir's Walk,” and + his ridiculous nursery “The Heir's Tower,” this roused a bitter animosity, + and, indeed, led to reprisals. Sir Charles built a long wall at the edge + of his garden, shutting out “The Heir's Walk” and intercepting the view of + his own premises from that walk. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Bassett made a little hill at the end of his walk, so that the + heir might get one peep over the wall at his rich inheritance. + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles began to fell timber on a gigantic scale. He went to work + with several gangs of woodmen, and all his woods, which were very + extensive, rang with the ax, and the trees fell like corn. He made no + secret that he was going to sell timber to the tune of several thousand + pounds and settle it on his wife. + </p> + <p> + Then Richard Bassett, through Wheeler, his attorney, remonstrated in his + own name, and that of his son, against this excessive fall of timber on an + entailed estate. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles chafed like a lion stung by a gad-fly, but vouchsafed no + reply: the answer came from Mr. Oldfield; he said Sir Charles had a right + under the entail to fell every stick of timber, and turn his woods into + arable ground, if he chose; and even if he had not, looking at his age and + his wife's, it was extremely improbable that Richard Bassett would inherit + the estates: the said Richard Bassett was not personally named in the + entail, and his rights were all in supposition: if Mr. Wheeler thought he + could dispute both these positions, the Court of Chancery was open to his + client. + </p> + <p> + Then Wheeler advised Bassett to avoid the Court of Chancery in a matter so + debatable; and Sir Charles felled all the more for the protest. The dead + bodies of the trees fell across each other, and daylight peeped through + the thick woods. It was like the clearing of a primeval forest. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett went about with a witness and counted the fallen. + </p> + <p> + The poor were allowed the lopwood: they thronged in for miles round, and + each built himself a great wood pile for the winter; the poor blessed Sir + Charles: he gave the proceeds, thirteen thousand pounds, to his wife for + her separate use. He did not tie it up. He restricted her no further than + this: she undertook never to draw above 100 pounds at a time without + consulting Mr. Oldfield as to the application. Sir Charles said he should + add to this fund every year; his beloved wife should not be poor, even if + the hated cousin should outlive him and turn her out of Huntercombe. + </p> + <p> + And so passed the summer of that year; then the autumn; and then came a + singularly mild winter. There was more hunting than usual, and Richard + Bassett, whom his wife's fortune enabled to cut a better figure than + before, was often in the field, mounted on a great bony horse that was not + so fast as some, being half-bred, but a wonderful jumper. + </p> + <p> + Even in this pastime the cousins were rivals. Sir Charles's favorite horse + was a magnificent thoroughbred, who was seldom far off at the finish: over + good ground Richard's cocktail had no chance with him; but sometimes, if + toward the close of the run they came to stiff fallows and strong fences, + the great strength of the inferior animal, and that prudent reserve of his + powers which distinguishes the canny cocktail from the higher-blooded + animal, would give him the advantage. + </p> + <p> + Of this there occurred, on a certain 18th of November, an example fraught + with very serious consequences. + </p> + <p> + That day the hounds met on Sir Charles's estate. Sir Charles and Lady + Bassett breakfasted in Pink; he had on his scarlet coat, white tie, + irreproachable buckskins, and top-boots. (It seemed a pity a speck of dirt + should fall on them.) Lady Bassett was in her riding-habit; and when she + mounted her pony, and went to cover by his side, with her blue-velvet cap + and her red-brown hair, she looked more like a brilliant flower than a + mere woman. + </p> + <p> + A veteran fox was soon found, and went away with unusual courage and + speed, and Lady Bassett paced homeward to wait her lord's return, with an + anxiety men laugh at, but women can appreciate. It was a form of quiet + suffering she had constantly endured, and never complained, nor even + mentioned the subject to Sir Charles but once, and then he pooh-poohed her + fancies. + </p> + <p> + The hunt had a burst of about forty minutes that left Richard Bassett's + cocktail in the rear; and the fox got into a large beech wood with plenty + of briars, and kept dodging about it for two hours, and puzzled the scent + repeatedly. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett elected not to go winding in and out among trees, risk his + horse's legs in rabbit-holes, and tire him for nothing. He had kept for + years a little note book he called “Statistics of Foxes,” and that told + him an old dog-fox of uncommon strength, if dislodged from that particular + wood, would slip into Bellman's Coppice, and if driven out of that would + face the music again, would take the open country for Higham Gorse, and + probably be killed before he got there; but once there a regiment of + scythes might cut him out, but bleeding, sneezing fox-hounds would never + work him out at the tail of a long run. + </p> + <p> + So Richard Bassett kept out of the wood, and went gently on to Bellman's + Coppice and waited outside. + </p> + <p> + His book proved an oracle. After two hours' dodging and maneuvering the + fox came out at the very end of Bellman's Coppice, with nothing near him + but Richard Bassett. Pug gave him the white of his eye in an ugly leer, + and headed straight as a crow for Higham Gorse. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett blew his horn, collected the hunt, and laid the dogs on. + Away they went, close together, thunder-mouthed on the hot scent. + </p> + <p> + After a three miles' gallop they sighted the fox for a moment just going + over the crest of a rising ground two furlongs off. Then the hullabbaloo + and excitement grew furious, and one electric fury animated dogs, men, and + horses. Another mile, and the fox ran in sight scarcely a furlong off; but + many of the horses were distressed: the Bassetts, however, kept up, one by + his horse being fresh, the other by his animal's native courage and speed. + </p> + <p> + Then came some meadows, bounded by a thick hedge, and succeeded by a + plowed field of unusual size—eighty acres. + </p> + <p> + When the fox darted into this hedge the hounds were yelling at his heels; + the hunt burst through the thin fence, expecting to see them kill close to + it. + </p> + <p> + But the wily fox had other resources at his command than speed. + Appreciating his peril, he doubled and ran sixty yards down the ditch, and + the impetuous hounds rushed forward and overran the scent. They raved + about to and fro, till at last one of the gentlemen descried the fox + running down a double furrow in the middle of the field. He had got into + this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footed pursuers + could. The dogs were laid on, and away they went helter-skelter. + </p> + <p> + At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an old + quickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, and a + new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches. + </p> + <p> + The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumped on + to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed his + forefeet in the field, and so scrambled on. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by the fallow, + caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and went headlong into the + other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head into the field. Unluckily + some of the trees were lying about, and Sir Charles's head struck one of + these in falling; the horse blundered out again, and galloped after the + hounds, but the rider lay there motionless. + </p> + <p> + Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; but presently + Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh, turned round + in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two or three gentlemen + dismounting at the place. These were newcomers. Then he resigned the hunt, + and rode back. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles's cap was crushed in, and there was blood on his white + waistcoat; he was very pale, and quite insensible. + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm and kindly concern, + and inquired of each other what was best to be done. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate opinion, and seized it. + “He must be taken home directly,” said he. “We must carry him to that + farmhouse, and get a cart for him.” + </p> + <p> + He helped carry him accordingly. The farmer lent them a cart, with straw, + and they laid the insensible baronet gently on it, Richard Bassett + supporting his head. “Gentlemen,” said he, rather pompously, “at such a + moment everything but the tie of kindred is forgotten.” Which resounding + sentiment was warmly applauded by the honest squires. + </p> + <p> + They took him slowly and carefully toward Huntercombe, distant about two + miles from the scene of the accident. + </p> + <p> + This 18th November Lady Bassett passed much as usual with her on hunting + days. She was quietly patient till the afternoon, and then restless, and + could not settle down in any part of the house till she got to a little + room on the first floor, with a bay-window commanding the country over + which Sir Charles was hunting. In this she sat, with her head against one + of the mullions, and eyed the country-side as far as she could see. + </p> + <p> + Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary Wells standing and + looking at her with evident emotion. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Mary?” said Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lady!” said Mary. And she trembled, and her hands worked. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett started up with alarm painted in her countenance. + </p> + <p> + “My lady, there's something wrong in the hunting field.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “An accident, they say.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint cry. Mary Wells ran to + her. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me directly!” cried Lady Bassett. She snatched up her bonnet, + and in another minute she and Mary Wells were on their road to the + village, questioning every body they met. + </p> + <p> + But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. The stable-boy, who + had told the report in the kitchen of Huntercombe, said he had it from a + gentleman's groom, riding by as he stood at the gates. + </p> + <p> + The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing rapidly by was not + confirmed by any further report, and Lady Bassett began to hope it was + false. + </p> + <p> + But a terrible confirmation came at last. + </p> + <p> + In the outskirts of the village mistress and servant encountered a + sorrowful procession: the cart itself, followed by five gentlemen on + horseback, pacing slowly, and downcast as at a funeral. + </p> + <p> + In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with mud, and his white + waistcoat bloody, lay with his head upon Richard Bassett's knee. His hair + was wet with blood, some of which had trickled down his cheek and dried. + Even Richard's buckskins were slightly stained with it. + </p> + <p> + At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which those who heard it + never forgot, and flung herself, Heaven knows how, into the cart; but she + got there, and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She took no + notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles away from him, and the + cart took her, embracing him tenderly, and kissing his hurt head, and + moaning over him, all through the village to Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + Four years ago they passed through the same village in a carriage-and-four—bells + pealing, rustics shouting—to take possession of Huntercombe, and + fill it with pledges of their great and happy love; and as they flashed + past the heir at law shrank hopeless into his little cottage. Now, how + changed the pageant!—a farmer's cart, a splashed and bleeding and + senseless form in it, supported by a childless, despairing woman, one + weeping attendant walking at the side, and, among the gentlemen pacing + slowly behind, the heir at law, with his head lowered in that decent + affectation of regret which all heirs can put on to hide the indecent + complacency within. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + AT the steps of Huntercombe Hall the servants streamed out, and relieved + the strangers of the sorrowful load. Sir Charles was carried into the + Hall, and Richard Bassett turned away, with one triumphant flash of his + eye, quickly suppressed, and walked with impenetrable countenance and + studied demeanor into Highmore House. + </p> + <p> + Even here he did not throw off the mask. It peeled off by degrees. He + began by telling his wife, gravely enough, Sir Charles had met with a + severe fall, and he had attended to him and taken him home. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I am glad you did that, Richard,” said Mrs. Bassett. “And is he very + badly hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid he will hardly get over it. He never spoke. He just groaned + when they took him down from the cart at Huntercombe.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Lady Bassett!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it will be a bad job for her. Jane!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a providence in it. The fall would never have killed him; but + his head struck a tree upon the ground; and that tree was one of the very + elms he had just cut down to rob our boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he was felling the very hedgerow timber, and this was one of the old + elms in a hedge. He must have done it out of spite, for elm-wood fetches + no price; it is good for nothing I know of, except coffins. Well, he has + cut down <i>his.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Poor man! Richard, death reconciles enemies. Surely you can forgive him + now.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to try.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett seemed now to have imbibed the spirit of quicksilver. His + occupations were not actually enlarged, yet, somehow or other, he seemed + full of business. He was all complacent bustle about nothing. He left off + inveighing against Sir Charles. And, indeed, if you are one of those weak + spirits to whom censure is intolerable, there is a cheap and easy way to + moderate the rancor of detraction—you have only to die. Let me + comfort genius in particular with this little recipe. + </p> + <p> + Why, on one occasion, Bassett actually snubbed Wheeler for a mere + allusion. That worthy just happened to remark, “No more felling of timber + on Bassett Manor for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame!” said Richard. “The man had his faults, but he had his good + qualities too: a high-spirited gentleman, beloved by his friends and + respected by all the county. His successor will find it hard to reconcile + the county to his loss.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler stared, and then grinned satirically. + </p> + <p> + This eulogy was never repeated, for Sir Charles proved ungrateful—he + omitted to die, after all. + </p> + <p> + Attended by first-rate physicians, tenderly nursed and watched by Lady + Bassett and Mary Wells, he got better by degrees; and every stage of his + slow but hopeful progress was communicated to the servants and the + village, and to the ladies and gentlemen who rode up to the door every day + and left their cards of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + The most attentive of all these was the new rector, a young clergyman, who + had obtained the living by exchange. He was a man highly gifted both in + body and mind—a swarthy Adonis, whose large dark eyes from the very + first turned with glowing admiration on the blonde beauties of Lady + Bassett. + </p> + <p> + He came every day to inquire after her husband; and she sometimes left the + sufferer a minute or two to make her report to him in person. At other + times Mary Wells was sent to him. That artful girl soon discovered what + had escaped her mistress's observation. + </p> + <p> + The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all sides. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. “I want to see him about again,” + said he. “Sir Charles is not the man to lie in bed if he was really + better. As for the doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment. + Let me see him on his legs, and then I'll believe he is better.” + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Richard Bassett this moderate + request. One frosty but sunny afternoon, as he was inspecting his coming + domain from “The Heir's Tower,” he saw the Hall door open, and a muffled + figure come slowly down the steps between two women: It was Sir Charles, + feeble but convalescent. He crept about on the sunny gravel for about ten + minutes, and then his nurses conveyed him tenderly in again. + </p> + <p> + This sight, which might have touched with pity a more generous nature, + startled Richard Bassett, and then moved his bile. “I was a fool,” said + he; “nothing will ever kill that man. He will see me out; see us all out. + And that Mary Wells nurses him, and I dare say in love with him by this + time; the fools can't nurse a man without. Curse the whole pack of ye!” he + yelled, and turned away in rage and disgust. + </p> + <p> + That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange fit of jealousy, + began to make hot protestations of love to her. He knew it was no use + reproaching her, so he went on the other tack. + </p> + <p> + She received his vows with cool complacency, but would only stay a minute, + and would only talk of her master and mistress, toward whom her heart was + really warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, and said: “'Tisn't + as if he was one of your faint-hearted ones as meet death half-way. Why, + the second day, when he could scarce speak, he sees me crying by the bed, + and says he, almost in a whisper, 'What are <i>you</i> crying for?' 'Sir,' + says I, ''tis for you—to see you lie like a ghost.' 'Then you be + wasting of salt-water,' says he. 'I wish I may, sir,' says I. So then he + raised himself up a little bit. 'Look at me,' says he; 'I'm a Bassett. I + am not the breed to die for a crack on the skull, and leave you all to the + mercy of them that would have no mercy'—which he meant you, I + suppose. So he ordered me to leave crying, which I behooved to obey; for + he will be master, mind ye, while he have a finger to wag, poor dear + gentleman, he will.” + </p> + <p> + And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to detain her, and + scudded back to the house, leaving Bassett to his reflections, which were + exceedingly bitter. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily with Lady Bassett. + Their favorite stroll was up and down the lawn, close under the boundary + wall he had built to shut out “The Heir's Walk.” + </p> + <p> + The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall and the walk by its side. + </p> + <p> + On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky Bassett, the heir; + but neither of the promenaders could see each other for the wall. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett, on the contrary, from “The Heir's Tower,” could see both + these little parties; and, as some men cannot keep away from what causes + their pain, he used to watch these loving walks, and see Sir Charles get + stronger and stronger, till at last, instead of leaning on his beloved + wife, he could march by her side, or even give her his arm. + </p> + <p> + Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, except during these + blissful walks, when the sun shone on him, and Love and Beauty soothed + him, Sir Charles was not the man he had been. The shake he had received + appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He became so irritable that + several of his servants left him; and to his wife he repined; and his + childless condition, which had been hitherto only a deep disappointment, + became in his eyes a calamity that outweighed his many blessings. He had + now narrowly escaped dying without an heir, and this seemed to sink into + his mind, and, co-operating with the concussion his brain had received, + brought him into a morbid state. He brooded on it, and spoke of it, and + got back to it from every other topic, in a way that distressed Lady + Bassett unspeakably. She consoled him bravely; but often, when she was + alone, her gentle courage gave way, and she cried bitterly to herself. + </p> + <p> + Her distress had one effect she little expected; it completed what her + invariable kindness had begun, and actually won the heart of a servant. + Those who really know that tribe will agree with me that this was a + marvelous conquest. Yet so it was; Mary Wells conceived for her a real + affection, and showed it by unremitting attention, and a soft and tender + voice, that soothed Lady Bassett, and drew many a silent but grateful + glance from her dove-like eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mary listened, and heard enough to blame Sir Charles for his peevishness, + and she began to throw out little expressions of dissatisfaction at him; + but these were so promptly discouraged by the faithful wife that she drew + in again and avoided that line. But one day, coming softly as a cat, she + heard Sir Charles and Lady Bassett talking over their calamity. Sir + Charles was saying that it was Heaven's curse; that all the poor people in + the village had children; that Richard Bassett's weak, puny little wife + had brought him an heir, and was about to make him a parent again; he + alone was marked out and doomed to be the last of his race. “And yet,” + said he, “if I had married any other woman, and you had married any other + man, we should have had children by the dozen, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, though he said nothing palpably unjust, he had the tone of + a man blaming his wife as the real cause of their joint calamity, under + which she suffered a deeper, nobler, and more silent anguish than himself. + This was hard to bear; and when Sir Charles went away, Mary Wells ran in, + with an angry expression on the tip of her tongue. + </p> + <p> + She found Lady Bassett in a pitiable condition, lying rather than leaning + on the table, with her hair loose about her, sobbing as if her heart would + break. + </p> + <p> + All that was good in Mary Wells tugged at her heart-strings. She flung + herself on her knees beside her, and seizing her mistress's hand, and + drawing it to her bosom, fell to crying and sobbing along with her. + </p> + <p> + This canine devotion took Lady Bassett by surprise. She turned her tearful + eyes upon her sympathizing servant, and said, “Oh, Mary!” and her soft + hand pressed the girl's harder palm gratefully. + </p> + <p> + Mary spoke first. “Oh, my lady,” she sobbed, “it breaks my heart to see + you so. And what a shame to blame you for what is no fault of yourn. If I + was your husband the cradles would soon be full in this house; but these + fine gentlemen, they be old before their time with smoking of tobacco; and + then to come and lay the blame on we!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, I value you very much—more than I ever did a servant in my + life; but if you speak against your master we shall part.” + </p> + <p> + “La, my lady, I wouldn't for the world. Sir Charles is a perfect + gentleman. Why, he gave me a sovereign only the other day for nursing of + him; but he didn't ought to blame you for no fault of yourn, and to make + you cry. It tears me inside out to see you cry; you that is so good to + rich and poor. I wouldn't vex myself so for that: dear heart, 'twas always + so; God sends meat to one house, and mouths to another.” + </p> + <p> + “I could be patient if poor Sir Charles was not so unhappy,” sighed Lady + Bassett; “but if ever you are a wife, Mary, you will know how wretched it + makes us to see a beloved husband unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'd make him happy,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if I only could!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I could tell you a way; for I have known it done; and now he is as + happy as a prince. You see, my lady, some men are like children; to make + them happy you must give them their own way; and so, if I was in your + place, I wouldn't make two bites of a cherry, for sometimes I think he + will fret himself out of the world for want on't.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “It is my belief you would not be long behind him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mary. Why should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Then—whisper, my lady!” + </p> + <p> + And, although Lady Bassett drew slightly back at this freedom, Mary Wells + poured into her ear a proposal that made her stare and shiver. + </p> + <p> + As for the girl's own face, it was as unmoved as if it had been bronze. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett drew back, and eyed her askant with amazement and terror. + </p> + <p> + “What is this you have dared to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is done every day.” + </p> + <p> + “By people of your class, perhaps. No; I don't believe it. Mary, I have + been mistaken in you. I am afraid you are a vicious girl. Leave me, + please. I can't bear the sight of you.” + </p> + <p> + Mary went away, very red, and the tear in her eye. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Lady Bassett gave Mary Wells a month's warning, and Mary + accepted it doggedly, and thought herself very cruelly used. + </p> + <p> + After this mistress and maid did not exchange an unnecessary word for many + days. + </p> + <p> + This notice to leave was very bitter to Mary Wells, for she was in the + very act of making a conquest. Young Drake, a very small farmer and tenant + of Sir Charles, had fallen in love with her, and she liked him and had + resolved he should marry her, with which view she was playing the tender + but coy maiden very prettily. But Drake, though young and very much in + love, was advised by his mother, and evidently resolved to go the + old-fashioned way—keep company a year, and know the girl before + offering the ring. + </p> + <p> + Just before her month was out a more serious trouble threatened Mary + Wells. + </p> + <p> + Her low, artful amour with Richard Bassett had led to its natural results. + By degrees she had gone further than she intended, and now the fatal + consequences looked her in the face. + </p> + <p> + She found herself in an odious position; for her growing regard for young + Drake, though not a violent attachment, was enough to set her more and + more against Richard Bassett, and she was preparing an entire separation + from the latter when the fatal truth dawned on her. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a temporary revulsion of feeling; she told her condition to + Bassett, and implored him, with many tears, to aid her to disappear for a + time and hide her misfortune, especially from her sister. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer that made her blood run + cold. “Why do you come to me?” said he. “Why don't you go to the right man—young + Drake?” + </p> + <p> + He then told her he had had her watched, and she must not think to make a + fool of him. She was as intimate with the young farmer as with him, and + was in his company every day. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but said he was a civil, + respectful young man, who desired to make her his wife. “You have lost me + that,” said she, bursting into tears; “and so, for God's sake, show + yourself a man for once, and see me through my trouble.” + </p> + <p> + The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, and said, “When + there are two it is always the gentleman you girls deceive. But you can't + make a fool of me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I'll give you a + wedding present; that is all I can do for any other man's sweetheart. I + have got my own family to provide for, and it is all I can contrive to + make both ends meet.” + </p> + <p> + He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she tried threats. He + laughed at them. Said he, “The time is gone by for that: if you wanted to + sue me for breach of promise, you should have done it at once; not waited + eighteen months and taken another sweetheart first. Come, come; you played + your little game. You made me come here week after week and bleed a + sovereign. A woman that loved a man would never have been so hard on him + as you were on me. I grinned and bore it; but when you ask me to own + another man's child, a man of your own sort that you are in love with—you + hate me—that is a little too much: no, Mrs. Drake; if that is your + game we will fight it out—before the public if you like.” And, + having delivered this with a tone of harsh and loud defiance, he left her—left + her forever. She sat down upon the cold ground and rocked herself. Despair + was cold at her heart. + </p> + <p> + She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. Then she got up and + went to her mistress's room and sat by the fire, for her limbs were cold + as well as her heart. + </p> + <p> + She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, till Lady Bassett + came up to bed. She then went through her work like an automaton, and + every now and then a deep sigh came from her breast. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her face was altered; a + sort of sullen misery was written on it. Lady Bassett was quick at reading + faces, and this look alarmed her. “Mary,” said she, kindly, “is there + anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + No reply. + </p> + <p> + “Are you unwell?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” with a burst of tears. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett let her cry, thinking it would relieve her, and then spoke to + her again with the languid pensiveness of a woman who has also her + trouble. “You have been very attentive to Sir Charles, and a kind good + servant to me, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mocking me, my lady,” said Mary, bitterly. “You wouldn't have + turned me off for a word if I had been a good servant.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett colored high, and was silenced for a moment. At last she + said, “I feel it must seem harsh to you. You don't know how wicked it was + to tempt me. But it is not as if you had <i>done</i> anything wrong. I do + not feel bound to mention mere words: I shall give you an excellent + character, Mary—indeed I <i>have.</i> I think I have got a good + place for you. I shall know to-morrow, and when it is settled we will look + over my wardrobe together.” + </p> + <p> + This proposal implied a boxful of presents, and would have made Mary's + dark eyes flash with delight at another time; but she was past all that + now. She interrupted Lady Bassett with this strange speech: “You are very + kind, my lady; will you lend me the key of your medicine chest?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked surprised, but said, “Certainly, Mary,” and held out + the keys. + </p> + <p> + But, before Mary could take them, she considered a moment, and asked her + what medicine she required. + </p> + <p> + “Only a little laudanum.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mary; not while you look like that, and refuse to tell me your + trouble. I am your mistress, and must exert my authority for your good. + Tell me at once what is the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd bite my tongue off sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, Mary. I am sure I should be your best friend. I feel much + indebted to you for the attention and the affection you have shown me, and + I am grieved to see you so despondent. Make a friend of me. There—think + it over, and talk to me again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells took the true servant's view of Lady Bassett's kindness. She + looked at it as a trap; not, indeed, set with malice prepense, but still a + trap. She saw that Lady Bassett meant kindly at present; but, for all + that, she was sure that if she told the truth, her mistress would turn + against her, and say, “Oh! I had no idea your trouble arose out of your + own imprudence. I can do nothing for a vicious girl.” + </p> + <p> + She resolved therefore to say nothing, or else to tell some lie or other + quite wide of the mark. + </p> + <p> + Deplorable as this young woman's situation was, the duplicity and + coarseness of mind which had brought her into it would have somewhat + blunted the mental agony such a situation must inflict; but it was + aggravated by a special terror; she knew that if she was found out she + would lose the only sure friend she had in the world. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, Mary Wells had seen a great deal of life during the two years + she was out of the reader's sight. Rhoda had been very good to her; had + set her up in a lodging-house, at her earnest request. She misconducted + it, and failed: threw it up in disgust, and begged Rhoda to put her in the + public line. Rhoda complied. Mary made a mess of the public-house. Then + Rhoda showed her she was not fit to govern anything, and drove her into + service again; and in that condition, having no more cares than a child, + and plenty of work to do, and many a present from Rhoda, she had been + happy. + </p> + <p> + But Rhoda, though she forgave blunders, incapacity for business, and waste + of money, had always told her plainly there was one thing she never would + forgive. + </p> + <p> + Rhoda Marsh had become a good Christian in every respect but one. The male + rake reformed is rather tolerant; but the female rake reformed is, as a + rule, bitterly intolerant of female frailty; and Rhoda carried this female + characteristic to an extreme both in word and in deed. They were only + half-sisters, after all; and Mary knew that she would be cast off forever + if she deviated from virtue so far as to be found out. + </p> + <p> + Besides the general warning, there had been a special one. When she read + Mary's first letter from Huntercombe Hall Rhoda was rather taken aback at + first; but, on reflection, she wrote to Mary, saying she could stay there + on two conditions: she must be discreet, and never mention her sister + Rhoda in the house, and she must not be tempted to renew her acquaintance + with Richard Bassett. “Mind,” said she, “if ever you speak to that villain + I shall hear of it, and I shall never notice you again.” + </p> + <p> + This was the galling present and the dark future which had made so young + and unsentimental a woman as Mary Wells think of suicide for a moment or + two; and it now deprived her of her rest, and next day kept her thinking + and brooding all the time her now leaden limbs were carrying her through + her menial duties. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon was sunny, and Sir Charles and Lady Bassett took their usual + walk. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells went a little way with them, looking very miserable. Lady + Bassett observed, and said, kindly, “Mary, you can give me that shawl; I + will not keep you; go where you like till five o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Mary never said so much as “Thank you.” She put the shawl round her + mistress, and then went slowly back. She sat down on the stone steps, and + glared stupidly at the scene, and felt very miserable and leaden. She + seemed to be stuck in a sort of slough of despond, and could not move in + any direction to get out of it. + </p> + <p> + While she sat in this somber reverie a gentleman walked up to the door, + and Mary Wells lifted her head and looked at him. Notwithstanding her + misery, her eyes rested on him with some admiration, for he was a model of + a man: six feet high, and built like an athlete. His face was oval, and + his skin dark but glowing; his hair, eyebrows, and long eyelashes black as + jet; his gray eyes large and tender. He was dressed in black, with a white + tie, and his clothes were well cut, and seemed superlatively so, owing to + the importance and symmetry of the figure they covered. It was the new + vicar, Mr. Angelo. + </p> + <p> + He smiled on Mary graciously, and asked her how Sir Charles was. + </p> + <p> + She said he was better. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Angelo asked, more timidly, was Lady Bassett at home. + </p> + <p> + “She is just gone out, sir.” + </p> + <p> + A look of deep disappointment crossed Mr. Angelo's face. It did not escape + Mary Wells. She looked at him full, and, lowering her voice a little, + said, “She is only in the grounds with Sir Charles. She will be at home + about five o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo hesitated, and then said he would call again at five. He + evidently preferred a duet to a trio. He then thanked Mary Wells with more + warmth than the occasion seemed to call for, and retired very slowly: he + had come very quickly. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells looked after him, and asked herself wildly if she could not + make some use of him and his manifest infatuation. + </p> + <p> + But before her mind could fix on any idea, and, indeed, before the young + clergyman had taken twenty steps homeward, loud voices were heard down the + shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + These were followed by an agonized scream. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells started up, and the young parson turned: they looked at each + other in amazement. + </p> + <p> + Then came wild and piercing cries for help—in a woman's voice. + </p> + <p> + The young clergyman cried out, <i>“Her</i> voice! <i>her</i> voice!” and + dashed into the shrubbery with a speed Mary Wells had never seen equaled. + He had won the 200-yard race at Oxford in his day. + </p> + <p> + The agonized screams were repeated, and Mary Wells screamed in response as + she ran toward the place. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + SIR CHARLES BASSETT was in high spirits this afternoon—indeed, a + little too high. + </p> + <p> + “Bella, my love,” said he, “now I'll tell you why I made you give me your + signature this morning. The money has all come in for the wood, and this + very day I sent Oldfield instructions to open an account for you with a + London banker.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked at him with tears of tenderness in her eyes. + “Dearest,” said she, “I have plenty of money; but the love to which I owe + this present, that is my treasure of treasures. Well, I accept it, + Charles; but don't ask me to spend it on myself; I should feel I was + robbing you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing to me how you spend it; I have saved it from the enemy.” + </p> + <p> + Now that very enemy heard these words. He had looked from the “Heir's + Tower,” and seen Sir Charles and Lady Bassett walking on their side the + wall, and the nurse carrying his heir on the other side. + </p> + <p> + He had come down to look at his child in the sun; but he walked softly, on + the chance of overhearing Sir Charles and Lady Bassett say something or + other about his health; his design went no further than that, but the fate + of listeners is proverbial. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett endeavored to divert her husband from the topic he seemed to + be approaching; it always excited him now, and did him harm. + </p> + <p> + “Do not waste your thoughts on that enemy. He is powerless.” + </p> + <p> + “At this moment, perhaps; but his turn is sure to come again; and I shall + provide for it. I mean to live on half my income, and settle the other + half on you. I shall act on the clause in the entail, and sell all the + timber on the estate, except about the home park and my best covers. It + will take me some years to do this; I must not glut the market, and spoil + your profits; but every year I'll have a fall, till I have denuded Mr. + Bassett's inheritance, as he calls it, and swelled your banker's account + to a Plum. Bella, I have had a shake. Even now that I am better such a + pain goes through my head, like a bullet crushing through it, whenever I + get excited. I don't think I shall be a long-lived man. But never mind, + I'll live as long as I can; and, while I do live, I'll work for you, and + against that villain.” + </p> + <p> + “Charles,” cried Lady Bassett, “I implore you to turn your thoughts away + from that man, and to give up these idle schemes. Were you to die I should + soon follow you; so pray do not shorten your life by these angry passions, + or you will shorten mine.” + </p> + <p> + This appeal acted powerfully on Sir Charles, and he left off suddenly with + flushed cheeks and tried to compose himself. + </p> + <p> + But his words had now raised a corresponding fury on the other side of + that boundary wall. Richard Bassett, stung with rage, and, unlike his + high-bred cousin, accustomed to mix cunning even with his fury, gave him a + terrible blow—a very <i>coup de Jarnac.</i> He spoke <i>at</i> him; + he ran forward to the nurse, and said very loud: “Let me see the little + darling. He does you credit. What fat cheeks!—what arms!—an + infant hercules! There, take him up the mound. Now lift him in your arms, + and let him see his inheritance. Higher, nurse, higher. Ay, crow away, + youngster; all that is yours—house and land and all. They may steal + the trees; they can't make away with the broad acres. Ha! I believe he + understands every word, nurse. See how he smiles and crows.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of Bassett's voice Sir Charles started, and, at the first + taunt, he uttered something between a moan and a roar, as of a wounded + lion. + </p> + <p> + “Come away,” cried Lady Bassett. “He is doing it on purpose.” + </p> + <p> + But the stabs came too fast. Sir Charles shook her off, and looked wildly + round for a weapon to strike his insulter with. + </p> + <p> + “Curse him and his brat!” he cried. “They shall neither of them—I'll + kill them both.” + </p> + <p> + He sprang fiercely at the wall, and, notwithstanding his weakly condition, + raised himself above it, and glared over with a face so full of fury that + Richard Bassett recoiled in dismay for a moment, and said, “Run! run! + He'll hurt the child!” + </p> + <p> + But, the next moment, Sir Charles's hands lost their power; he uttered a + miserable moan, and fell gasping under the wall in an epileptic fit, with + all the terrible symptoms I have described in a previous portion of this + story. These were new to his poor wife, and, as she strove in vain to + control his fearful convulsions, her shrieks rent the air. Indeed, her + screams were so appalling that Bassett himself sprang at the wall, and, by + a great effort of strength, drew himself up, and peered down, with white + face, at the glaring eyes, clinched teeth, purple face, and foaming lips + of his enemy, and his body that bounded convulsively on the ground with + incredible violence. + </p> + <p> + At that moment humanity prevailed over every thing, and he flung himself + over the wall, and in his haste got rather a heavy fall himself. “It is a + fit!” he cried, and running to the brook close by, filled his hat with + water, and was about to dash it over Sir Charles's face. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Bassett repelled him with horror. “Don't touch him, you villain! + You have killed him.” And then she shrieked again. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Mr. Angelo dashed up, and saw at a glance what it was, for + he had studied medicine a little. He said, “It is epilepsy. Leave him to + me.” He managed, by his great strength, to keep the patient's head down + till the face got pale and the limbs still; then, telling Lady Bassett not + to alarm herself too much, he lifted Sir Charles, and actually proceeded + to carry him toward the house. Lady Bassett, weeping, proffered her + assistance, and so did Mary Wells; but this athlete said, a little + bruskly, “No, no; I have practiced this sort of thing;” and, partly by his + rare strength, partly by his familiarity with all athletic feats, carried + the insensible baronet to his own house, as I have seen my accomplished + friend Mr. Henry Neville carry a tall actress on the mimic stage; only, + the distance being much longer, the perspiration rolled down Mr. Angelo's + face with so sustained an effort. + </p> + <p> + He laid him gently on the floor of his study, while Lady Bassett sent two + grooms galloping for medical advice, and half a dozen servants running for + this and that stimulant, as one thing after another occurred to her + agitated mind. The very rustling of dresses and scurry of feet overhead + told all the house a great calamity had stricken it. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett hung over the sufferer, sighing piteously, and was for + supporting his beloved head with her tender arm; but Mr. Angelo told her + it was better to keep the head low, that the blood might flow back to the + vessels of the brain. + </p> + <p> + She cast a look of melting gratitude on her adviser, and composed herself + to apply stimulants under his direction and advice. + </p> + <p> + Thus judiciously treated, Sir Charles began to recover consciousness in + part. He stared and muttered incoherently. Lady Bassett thanked God on her + knees, and then turned to Mr. Angelo with streaming eyes, and stretched + out both hands to him, with an indescribable eloquence of gratitude. He + gave her his hands timidly, and she pressed them both with all her soul. + Unconsciously she sent a rapturous thrill through the young man's body: he + blushed, and then turned pale, and felt for a moment almost faint with + rapture at that sweet and unexpected pressure of her soft hands. + </p> + <p> + But at this moment Sir Charles broke out in a sort of dry, business-like + voice, “I'll kill the viper and his brood!” Then he stared at Mr. Angelo, + and could not make him out at first. “Ah!” said he, complacently, “this is + my private tutor: a man of learning. I read Homer with him; but I have + forgotten it, all but one line— + </p> + <p> + “[greek]” + </p> + <p> + “That's a beautiful verse. Homer, old boy, I'll take your advice. I'll + kill the heir at law, and his brat as well, and when they are dead and + well seasoned I'll sell them to that old timber-merchant, the devil, to + make hell hotter. Order my horse, somebody, this minute!” + </p> + <p> + During this tirade Lady Bassett's hands kept clutching, as if to stop it, + and her eyes filled with horror. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo came again to her rescue. He affected to take it all as a + matter of course, and told the servants they need not wait, Sir Charles + was coming to himself by degrees, and the danger was all over. + </p> + <p> + But when the servants were gone he said to Lady Bassett, seriously, “I + would not let any servant be about Sir Charles, except this one. She is + evidently attached to you. Suppose we take him to his own room.” + </p> + <p> + He then made Mary Wells a signal, and they carried him upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles talked all the while with pitiable vehemence. Indeed, it was a + continuous babble, like a brook. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells was taking him into his own room, but Lady Bassett said, “No: + into my room. Oh, I will never let him out of my sight again.” + </p> + <p> + Then they carried him into Lady Bassett's bedroom, and laid him gently + down on a couch there. + </p> + <p> + He looked round, observed the locality, and uttered a little sigh of + complacency. He left off talking for the present, and seemed to doze. + </p> + <p> + The place which exerted this soothing influence on Sir Charles had a + contrary and strange effect on Mr. Angelo. + </p> + <p> + It was of palatial size, and lighted by two side windows, and an oriel + window at the end. The delicate stone shafts and mullions were such as are + oftener seen in cathedrals than in mansions. The deep embrasure was filled + with beautiful flowers and luscious exotic leaf-plants from the + hot-houses. The floor was of polished oak, and some feet of this were left + bare on all sides of the great Aubusson carpet made expressly for the + room. By this means cleanliness penetrated into every corner: the oak was + not only cleaned, but polished like a mirror. The curtains were French + chintzes, of substance, and exquisite patterns, and very voluminous. On + the walls was a delicate rose-tinted satin paper, to which French art, + unrivaled in these matters, had given the appearance of being stuffed, + padded, and divided into a thousand cozy pillows, by gold-headed nails. + </p> + <p> + The wardrobes were of satin-wood. The bedsteads, one small, one large, + were plain white, and gold in moderation. + </p> + <p> + All this, however, was but the frame to the delightful picture of a + wealthy young lady's nest. + </p> + <p> + The things that startled and thrilled Mr. Angelo were those his + imagination could see the fair mistress using. The exquisite toilet table; + the Dresden mirror, with its delicate china frame muslined and ribboned; + the great ivory-handled brushes, the array of cut-glass gold-mounted + bottles, and all the artillery of beauty; the baths of various shapes and + sizes, in which she laved her fair body; the bath sheets, and the + profusion of linen, fine and coarse; the bed, with its frilled sheets, its + huge frilled pillows, and its eider-down quilt, covered with bright purple + silk. + </p> + <p> + A delicate perfume came through the wardrobes, where strata of fine linen + from Hamburg and Belfast lay on scented herbs; and this, permeating the + room, seemed the very perfume of Beauty itself, and intoxicated the brain. + Imagination conjured pictures proper to the scene: a goddess at her + toilet; that glorious hair lying tumbled on the pillow, and burning in + contrasted color with the snowy sheets and with the purple quilt. + </p> + <p> + From this reverie he was awakened by a soft voice that said, “How can I + ever thank you enough, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo controlled himself, and said, “By sending for me whenever I can + be of the slightest use.” Then, comprehending his danger, he added, + hastily, “And I fear I am none whatever now.” Then he rose to go. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett gave him both her hands again, and this time he kissed one of + them, all in a flurry; he could not resist the temptation. Then he hurried + away, with his whole soul in a tumult. Lady Bassett blushed, and returned + to her husband's side. + </p> + <p> + Doctor Willis came, heard the case, looked rather grave and puzzled, and + wrote the inevitable prescription; for the established theory is that man + is cured by drugs alone. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles wandered a little while the doctor was there, and continued to + wander after he was gone. + </p> + <p> + Then Mary Wells begged leave to sleep in the dressing-room. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett thanked her, but said she thought it unnecessary; a good + night's rest, she hoped, would make a great change in the sufferer. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells thought otherwise, and quietly brought her little bed into the + dressing-room and laid it on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Her judgment proved right; Sir Charles was no better the next day, nor the + day after. He brooded for hours at a time, and, when he talked, there was + an incoherence in his discourse; above all, he seemed incapable of talking + long on any subject without coming back to the fatal one of his + childlessness; and, when he did return to this, it was sure to make him + either deeply dejected or else violent against Richard Bassett and his + son; he swore at them, and said they were waiting for his shoes. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett's anxiety deepened; strange fears came over her. She put + subtle questions to the doctor; he returned obscure answers, and went on + prescribing medicines that had no effect. + </p> + <p> + She looked wistfully into Mary Wells's face, and there she saw her own + thoughts reflected. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said she, one day, in a low voice, “what do they say in the + kitchen?” + </p> + <p> + “Some say one thing, some another. What can they say? They never see him, + and never shall while I am here.” + </p> + <p> + This reminded Lady Bassett that Mary's time was up. The idea of a stranger + taking her place, and seeing Sir Charles in his present condition, was + horrible to her. “Oh, Mary,” said she, piteously, “surely you will not + leave me just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish me to stay, my lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you ask it? How can I hope to find such devotion as yours, such + fidelity, and, above all, such secrecy? Ah, Mary, I am the most unhappy + lady in all England this day.” + </p> + <p> + Then she began to cry bitterly, and Mary Wells cried with her, and said + she would stay as long as she could; “but,” said she, “I gave you good + advice, my lady, and so you will find.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett made no answer whatever, and that disappointed Mary, for she + wanted a discussion. + </p> + <p> + The days rolled on, and brought no change for the better. Sir Charles + continued to brood on his one misfortune. He refused to go out-of-doors, + even into the garden, giving as his reason that he was not fit to be seen. + “I don't mind a couple of women,” said he, gravely, “but no man shall see + Charles Bassett in his present state. No. Patience! Patience! I'll wait + till Heaven takes pity on me. After all, it would be a shame that such a + race as mine should die out, and these fine estates go to blackguards, and + poachers, and anonymous-letter writers.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett used to coax him to walk in the corridor; but, even then, he + ordered Mary Wells to keep watch and let none of the servants come that + way. From words he let fall it seems he thought “Childlessness” was + written on his face, and that it had somehow degraded his features. + </p> + <p> + Now a wealthy and popular baronet could not thus immure himself for any + length of time without exciting curiosity, and setting all manner of + rumors afloat. Visitors poured into Huntercombe to inquire. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett excused herself to many, but some of her own sex she thought + it best to encounter. This subjected her to the insidious attacks of + curiosity admirably veiled with sympathy. The assailants were marvelously + subtle; but so was the devoted wife. She gave kiss for kiss, and equivoque + for equivoque. She seemed grateful for each visit; but they got nothing + out of her except that Sir Charles's nerves were shaken by his fall, and + that she was playing the tyrant for once, and insisting on absolute quiet + for her patient. + </p> + <p> + One visitor she never refused—Mr. Angelo. He, from the first, had + been her true friend; had carried Sir Charles away from the enemy, and + then had dismissed the gaping servants. She saw that he had divined her + calamity and she knew from things he said to her that he would never + breathe a word out-of-doors. She confided in him. She told him Mr. Bassett + was the real cause of all this misery: he had insulted Sir Charles. The + nature of this insult she suppressed. “And oh, Mr. Angelo,” said she, + “that man is my terror night and day! I don't know what he can do, but I + feel he will do something if he ever learns my poor husband's condition.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust, Lady Bassett, you are convinced he will learn nothing from me. + Indeed, I will tell the ruffian anything you like. He has been sounding me + a little; called to inquire after his poor cousin—the hypocrite!” + </p> + <p> + “How good you are! Please tell him absolute repose is prescribed for a + time, but there is no doubt of Sir Charles's ultimate recovery.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo promised heartily. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells was not enough; a woman must have a man to lean on in trouble, + and Lady Bassett leaned on Mr. Angelo. She even obeyed him. One day he + told her that her own health would fail if she sat always in the + sick-room; she must walk an hour every day. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Must</i> I?” said she, sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, even if it is only in your own garden.” + </p> + <p> + From that time she used to walk with him nearly every day. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett saw this from his tower of observation; saw it, and + chuckled. “Aha!” said he. “Husband sick in bed. Wife walking in the garden + with a young man—a parson, too. He is dark, she is fair. Something + will come of this. Ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett now talked of sending to London for advice; but Mary Wells + dissuaded her. “Physic can't cure him. There's only one can cure him, and + that is yourself, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, would to Heaven I could!” + </p> + <p> + “Try <i>my</i> way, and you will see, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “What, <i>that</i> way! Oh, no, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if you won't, nobody else can.” + </p> + <p> + Such speeches as these, often repeated, on the one hand, and Sir Charles's + melancholy on the other, drove Lady Bassett almost wild with distress and + perplexity. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile her vague fears of Richard Bassett were being gradually + realized. + </p> + <p> + Bassett employed Wheeler to sound Dr. Willis as to his patient's + condition. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Willis, true to the honorable traditions of his profession, would tell + him nothing. But Dr. Willis had a wife. She pumped him: and Wheeler pumped + her. + </p> + <p> + By this channel Wheeler got a somewhat exaggerated account of Sir + Charles's state. He carried it to Bassett, and the pair put their heads + together. + </p> + <p> + The consultation lasted all night, and finally a comprehensive plan of + action was settled. Wheeler stipulated that the law should not be broken + in the smallest particular, but only stretched. + </p> + <p> + Four days after this conference Mr. Bassett, Mr. Wheeler, and two spruce + gentlemen dressed in black, sat upon the “Heir's Tower,” watching + Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + They watched, and watched, until they saw Mr. Angelo make his usual daily + call. + </p> + <p> + Then they watched, and watched, until Lady Bassett and the young clergyman + came out and strolled together into the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + Then the two gentlemen went down the stairs, and were hastily conducted by + Bassett to Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + They rang the bell, and the taller said, in a business-like voice, “Dr. + Mosely, from Dr. Willis.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells was sent for, and Dr. Mosely said, “Dr. Willis is unable to + come to-day, and has sent me.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells conducted him to the patient. The other gentleman followed. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” said Mary. “I can't let all the world in to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Mr. Donkyn, the surgeon. Dr. Willis wished the patient to be + examined with the stethoscope. You can stay outside, Mr. Donkyn.” + </p> + <p> + This new doctor announced himself to Sir Charles, felt his pulse, and + entered at once into conversation with him. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was in a talking mood, and very soon said one or two + inconsecutive things. Dr. Mosely looked at Mary Wells and said he would + write a prescription. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had written it he said, very loud, “Mr. Donkyn!” + </p> + <p> + The door instantly opened, and that worthy appeared on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Oblige me,” said the doctor to his confrere, “by seeing this prescription + made up; and you can examine the patient yourself; but do not fatigue + him.” + </p> + <p> + With this he retired swiftly, and strolled down the corridor, to wait for + his companion. + </p> + <p> + He had not to wait long. Mr. Donkyn adopted a free and easy style with Sir + Charles, and that gentleman marked his sense of the indignity by turning + him out of the room, and kicking him industriously half-way down the + passage. + </p> + <p> + Messrs. Mosely and Donkyn retired to Highmore. + </p> + <p> + Bassett was particularly pleased at the baronet having kicked Donkyn; so + was Wheeler; so was Dr. Mosely. Donkyn alone did not share the general + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + When Sir Charles had disposed of Mr. Donkyn he turned on Mary Wells, and + rated her soundly for bringing strangers into his room to gratify their + curiosity; and when Lady Bassett came in he made his formal complaint, + concluding with a proposal that one of two persons should leave + Huntercombe, forever, that afternoon—Mary Wells or Sir Charles + Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Mary replied, not to him, but to her mistress, “He came from Dr. Willis, + my lady. It was Dr. Mosely; and the other gent was a surgeon.” + </p> + <p> + “Two medical men, sent by Dr. Willis?” said Lady Bassett, knitting her + brow with wonder and a shade of doubt. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of her own sweethearts, sent by herself,” suggested Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sat down and wrote a hasty letter to Dr. Willis. “Send a + groom with it, as fast as he can ride,” said she; and she was much + discomposed and nervous and impatient till the answer came bade. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Willis came in person. “I sent no one to take my place,” said he. “I + esteem my patient too highly to let any stranger prescribe for him or even + see him—for a few days to come.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and her eloquent face filled with an + undefinable terror. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells, being on her defense, put in her word. “I am sure he was a + doctor; for he wrote a prescription, and here 'tis.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Willis examined the prescription, with no friendly eye. + </p> + <p> + “Acetate of morphia! The very worst thing that could be given him. This is + the favorite of the specialists. This fatal drug has eaten away a thousand + brains for one it has ever benefited.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Lady Bassett. “'Specialists!' what are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Medical men, who confine their practice to one disease.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad-doctors, he means,” said the patient, very gravely. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett turned very pale. “Then those were mad-doctors.” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind, Bella,” said Sir Charles. “I kicked the fellow + handsomely.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear it, Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Willis looked at Lady Bassett, as much as to say, “I shall not give <i>him</i> + my real reason;” and then said, “I think it very undesirable you should be + excited and provoked, until your health is thoroughly restored.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Willis wrote a prescription, and retired. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and trembled all over. Her divining fit + was on her; she saw the hand of the enemy, and filled with vague fears. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells tried to, comfort her. “I'll take care no more strangers get in + here,” said she. “And, my lady, if you are afraid, why not have the + keepers, and two or three more, to sleep in the house? for, as for them + footmen, they be too soft to fight.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Lady Bassett; “but I fear it will be no use. Our enemy has + so many resources unknown to me. How can a poor woman fight with a shadow, + that comes in a moment and strikes; and then is gone and leaves his victim + trembling?” + </p> + <p> + Then she slipped into the dressing-room and became hysterical, out of her + husband's sight and hearing. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells nursed her, and, when she was better, whispered in her ear, + “Lose no more time, then. Cure him. You know the way.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <p> + IN the present condition of her mind these words produced a strange effect + on Lady Bassett. She quivered, and her eyes began to rove in that peculiar + way I have already noticed; and then she started up and walked wildly to + and fro; and then she kneeled down and prayed; and then, alarmed, + perplexed, exhausted, she went and leaned her head on her patient's + shoulder, and wept softly a long time. + </p> + <p> + Some days passed, and no more strangers attempted to see Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was beginning to breathe again, when she was afflicted by an + unwelcome discovery. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells fainted away so suddenly that, but for Lady Bassett's quick eye + and ready hand, she would have fallen heavily. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett laid her head down and loosened her stays, and discovered her + condition. She said nothing till the young woman was well, and then she + taxed her with it. + </p> + <p> + Mary denied it plump; but, seeing her mistress's disgust at the falsehood, + she owned it with many tears. + </p> + <p> + Being asked how she could so far forget herself, she told Lady Bassett she + had long been courted by a respectable young man; he had come to the + village, bound on a three years' voyage, to bid her good-by, and, what + with love and grief at parting, they had been betrayed into folly; and now + he was on the salt seas, little dreaming in what condition he had left + her: “and,” said she, “before ever he can write to me, and I to him, I + shall be a ruined girl; that is why I wanted to put an end to myself; I <i>will,</i> + too, unless I can find some way to hide it from the world.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett begged her to give up those desperate thoughts; she would + think what could be done for her. Lady Bassett could say no more to her + just then, for she was disgusted with her. + </p> + <p> + But when she came to reflect that, after all, this was not a lady, and + that she appeared by her own account to be the victim of affection and + frailty rather than of vice, she made some excuses; and then the girl had + laid aside her trouble, her despair, and given her sorrowful mind to + nursing and comforting Sir Charles. This would have outweighed a crime, + and it made the wife's bowels yearn over the unfortunate girl. “Mary,” + said she, “others must judge you; I am a wife, and can only see your + fidelity to my poor husband. I don't know what I shall do without you, but + I think it is my duty to send you to him if possible. You are sure he + really loves you?” + </p> + <p> + “Me cross the seas after a young man?” said Mary Wells. “I'd as lieve hang + myself on the nighest tree and make an end. No, my lady, if you are really + my friend, let me stay here as long as I can—I will never go + downstairs to be seen—and then give me money enough to get my + trouble over unbeknown to my sister; she is all my fear. She is married to + a gentleman, and got plenty of money, and I shall never want while she + lives, and behave myself; but she would never forgive me if she knew. She + is a hard woman; she is not like you, my lady. I'd liever cut my hand off + than I'd trust her as I would you.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was not quite insensible to this compliment; but she felt + uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “What, help you to deceive your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “For her good. Why, if any one was to go and tell her about me now, she'd + hate them for telling her almost as much as she would hate me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was sore perplexed. Unable to see quite clear in the matter, + she naturally reverted to her husband and his interest. That dictated her + course. She said, “Well, stay with us, Mary, as long as you can; and then + money shall not be wanting to hide your shame from all the world; but I + hope when the time comes you will alter your mind and tell your sister. + May I ask what her name is?” + </p> + <p> + Mary, after a moment's hesitation, said her name was Marsh. + </p> + <p> + “I know a Mrs. Marsh,” said Lady Bassett; “but, of course, that is not + your sister. My Mrs. Marsh is rather fair.” + </p> + <p> + “So is my sister, for that matter.” + </p> + <p> + “And tall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you never saw her. You'd never forget her it you had. She has + got eyes like a lion.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Does she ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she is famous for that; and driving, and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! But no; I see no resemblance.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she is only my half-sister.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very strange.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett put her hand to her brow, and thought. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said she, “all this is very mysterious. We are wading in deep + waters.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells had no idea what she meant. + </p> + <p> + The day was not over yet. Just before dinner-time a fly from the station + drove to the door, and Mr. Oldfield got out. + </p> + <p> + He was detained in the hall by sentinel Moss. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett came down to him. At the very sight of him she trembled, and + said, “Richard Bassett?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Oldfield, “he is in the field again. He has been to the + Court of Chancery <i>ex parte,</i> and obtained an injunction <i>ad + interim</i> to stay waste. Not another tree must be cut down on the estate + for the present.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another tree shall be felled + on the grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. But they will not stop there. If we do not move to + dissolve the injunction, I fear they will go on and ask the Court to + administer the estate, with a view to all interests concerned, especially + those of the heir at law and his son.” + </p> + <p> + “What, while my husband lives?” + </p> + <p> + “If they can prove him dead in law.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you, Mr. Oldfield.” + </p> + <p> + “They have got affidavits of two medical men that he is insane.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall of timber as a + further proof, and also as a reason why the Court should interfere to + protect the heir at law. Their case is well got up and very strong,” said + Mr. Oldfield, regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you are a lawyer, and you have always beaten them hitherto.” + </p> + <p> + “I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. To be frank, Lady + Bassett, I don't see what I can do but watch the case, on the chance of + some error or illegality. It is very hard to fight a case when you cannot + put your client forward—and I suppose that would not be safe. How + unfortunate that you have no children!” + </p> + <p> + “Children! How could they help us?” + </p> + <p> + “What a question! How could Richard Bassett move the Court if he was not + the heir at law?” + </p> + <p> + After a long conference Mr. Oldfield returned to town to see what he could + do in the way of procrastination, and Lady Bassett promised to leave no + stone unturned to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. Oldfield was to + write immediately if any fresh step was taken. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady Bassett pondered every word he had said, + and, mild as she was, her rage began to rise against her husband's + relentless enemy. Her wits worked, her eyes roved in that peculiar + half-savage way I have described. She became intolerably restless; and any + one acquainted with her sex might see that some strange conflict was going + on in her troubled mind. + </p> + <p> + Every now and then she would come and cling to her husband, and cry over + him; and that seemed to still the tumult of her soul a little. + </p> + <p> + She never slept all that night, and next day, clinging in her helpless + agony to the nearest branch, she told Mary Wells what Bassett was doing, + and said, “What shall I do? He is not mad; but he is in so very precarious + a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they will drive him mad + indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “My lady,” said Mary Wells, “I can't go from my word. 'Tis no use in + making two bites of a cherry. We must cure him: and if we don't, you'll + never rue it but once, and that will be all your life.” + </p> + <p> + “I should look on myself with horror afterward were I to deceive him now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady, you are too fond of him for that. Once you saw him happy + you'd be happy too, no matter how it came about. That Richard Bassett will + turn him out of this else. I am sure he will; he is a hard-hearted + villain.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett's eyes flashed fire; then her eyes roved; then she sighed + deeply. + </p> + <p> + Her powers of resistance were beginning to relax. As for Mary Wells, she + gave her no peace; she kept instilling her mind into her mistress's with + the pertinacity of a small but ever-dripping fount, and we know both by + science and poetry that small, incessant drops of water will wear a hole + in marble. + </p> + <p> + “Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed saepe cadendo.” + </p> + <p> + And in the midst of all a letter came from Mr. Oldfield, to tell her that + Mr. Bassett threatened to take out a commission <i>de lunatico,</i> and + she must prepare Sir Charles for an examination; for, if reported insane, + the Court would administer the estates; but the heir at law, Mr. Bassett, + would have the ear of the Court and the right of application, and become + virtually master of Huntercombe and Bassett; and, perhaps, considering the + spirit by which he was animated, would contrive to occupy the very Hall + itself. Lady Bassett was in the dressing-room when she received this blow, + and it drove her almost frantic. She bemoaned her husband; she prayed God + to take them both, and let their enemy have his will. She wept and raved, + and at the height of her distress came from the other room a feeble cry, + “Childless! childless! childless!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett heard that, and in one moment, from violent she became + unnaturally and dangerously calm. She said firmly to Mary Wells, “This is + more than I can bear. You pretend you can save him—do it.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells now trembled in her turn; but she seized the opportunity. “My + lady, whatever I say you'll stand to?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you say I'll stand to.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + MARY WELLS, like other uneducated women, was not accustomed to think long + and earnestly on any one subject; to use an expression she once applied + with far less justice to her sister, her mind was like running water. + </p> + <p> + But gestation affects the brains of such women, and makes them think more + steadily, and sometimes very acutely; added to which, the peculiar dangers + and difficulties that beset this girl during that anxious period + stimulated her wits to the very utmost. Often she sat quite still for + hours at a time, brooding and brooding, and asking herself how she could + turn each new and unexpected event to her own benefit. Now so much does + mental force depend on that exercise of keen and long attention, in which + her sex is generally deficient, that this young woman's powers were more + than doubled since the day she first discovered her condition, and began + to work her brains night and day for her defense. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, as events I have related unfolded themselves, she caught a + glimpse of this idea, that if she could get her mistress to have a secret, + her mistress would help her to keep her own. Hence her insidious whispers, + and her constant praises of Mr. Angelo, who, she saw, was infatuated with + Lady Bassett. Yet the designing creature was actually fond of her + mistress: and so strangely compounded is a heart of this low kind that the + extraordinary step she now took was half affectionate impulse, half + egotistical design. + </p> + <p> + She made a motion with her hand inviting Lady Bassett to listen, and + stepped into Sir Charles's room. + </p> + <p> + “Childless! childless! childless!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, sir,” said Mary Wells. “Don't say so. We shan't be many mouths + without one, please Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you believe me?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What, did ever I tell you a lie?” + </p> + <p> + “No: but you are mistaken. She would have told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, my lady is young and shy, and I think she is afraid of + disappointing you after all; for you know, sir, there's many a slip 'twixt + the cup and the lip. But 'tis as I tell you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was much agitated, and said he would give her a hundred + guineas if that was true. “Where is my darling wife? Why do I hear this + through a servant?” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells cast a look at the door, and said, for Lady Bassett to hear, + “She is receiving company. Now, sir, I have told you good news; will you + do something to oblige me? You shouldn't speak of it direct to my lady + just yet; and if you want all to go well, you mustn't vex my lady as you + are doing now. What I mean, you mustn't be so downhearted— there's + no reason for't—and you mustn't coop yourself up on this floor: it + sets the folks talking, and worries my lady. You should give her every + chance, being the way she is.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles said eagerly he would not vex her for the world. “I'll walk in + the garden,” said he; “but as for going abroad, you know I am not in a fit + condition yet; my mind is clouded.” + </p> + <p> + “Not as I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not always. But sometimes a cloud seems to get into my head; and if I + was in public I might do or say something discreditable. I would rather + die.” + </p> + <p> + “La, sir!” said Mary Wells, in a broad, hearty way—“a cloud in your + head! You've had a bad fall, and a fit at top on't, and no wonder your + poor head do ache at times. You'll outgrow that—if you take the air + and give over fretting about the t'other thing. I tell you you'll hear the + music of a child's voice and little feet a-pattering up and down this here + corridor before so very long—if so be you take my advice, and leave + off fretting my lady with fretting of yourself. You should consider: she + is too fond of you to be well when you be ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get well for her sake,” said Sir Charles, firmly. + </p> + <p> + At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mary Wells opened it so that + the servant could see nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Angelo has called.” + </p> + <p> + “My lady will be down directly.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells then slipped into the dressing-room, and found Lady Bassett + looking pale and wild. She had heard every word. + </p> + <p> + “There, he is better already,” said Mary Wells. “He shall walk in the + garden with you this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done? I can't look him in the face now. Suppose he speaks + to me?” + </p> + <p> + “He will not. I'll manage that. You won't have to say a word. Only listen + to what I say, and don't make a liar of me. He is better already.” + </p> + <p> + “How will this end?” cried Lady Bassett, helplessly. “What shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + “You must go downstairs, and not come here for an hour at least, or you'll + spoil my work. Mr. Angelo is in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to him.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett slipped out by the other door, and it was three hours, + instead of one, before she returned. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in her life she was afraid to face her husband. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + MEANTIME Mary Wells had a long conversation with her master; and after + that she retired into the adjoining room, and sat down to sew baby-linen + clandestinely. + </p> + <p> + After a considerable tune Lady Bassett came in, and, sinking into a chair, + covered her face with her hands. She had her bonnet on. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells looked at her with black eyes that flashed triumph. + </p> + <p> + After so surveying her for some time she said: “I have been at him again, + and there's a change for the better already. He is not the same man. You + go and see else.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett now obeyed her servant: she rose and crept like a culprit + into Sir Charles's room. She found him clean shaved, dressed to + perfection, and looking more cheerful than she had seen him for many a + long day. “Ah, Bella,” said he, “you have your bonnet on; let us have a + walk in the garden.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett opened her eyes and consented eagerly, though she was very + tired. + </p> + <p> + They walked together; and Sir Charles, being a man that never broke his + word, put no direct question to Lady Bassett, but spoke cheerfully of the + future, and told her she was his hope and his all; she would baffle his + enemy, and cheer his desolate hearth. + </p> + <p> + She blushed, and looked confused and distressed; then he smiled, and + talked of indifferent matters, until a pain in his head stopped him; then + he became confused, and, putting his hand piteously to his head, proposed + to retire at once to his own room. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett brought him in, and he reposed in silence on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + The next day, and, indeed, many days afterward, presented similar + features. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells talked to her master of the bright days to come, of the joy + that would fill the house if all went well, and of the defeat in store for + Richard Bassett. She spoke of this man with strange virulence; said “she + would think no more of sticking a knife into him than of eating her + dinner;” and in saying this she showed the white of her eye in a manner + truly savage and vindictive. + </p> + <p> + To hurt the same person is a surer bond than to love the same person; and + this sentiment of Mary Wells, coupled with her uniform kindness to + himself, gave her great influence with Sir Charles in his present weakened + condition. Moreover, the young woman had an oily, persuasive tongue; and + she who persuades us is stronger than he who convinces us. + </p> + <p> + Thus influenced, Sir Charles walked every day in the garden with his wife, + and forbore all direct allusion to her condition, though his conversation + was redolent of it. + </p> + <p> + He was still subject to sudden collapses of the intellect; but he became + conscious when they were coming on; and at the first warning he would + insist on burying himself in his room. + </p> + <p> + After some days he consented to take short drives with Lady Bassett in the + open carriage. This made her very joyful. Sir Charles refused to enter a + single house, so high was his pride and so great his terror lest he should + expose himself; but it was a great point gained that she could take him + about the county, and show him in the character of a mere invalid. + </p> + <p> + Every thing now looked like a cure, slow, perhaps, but progressive; and + Lady Bassett had her joyful hours, yet not without a bitter alloy: her + divining mind asked itself what she should say and do when Sir Charles + should be quite recovered. This thought tormented her, and sometimes so + goaded her that she hated Mary Wells for her well-meant interference, and, + by a natural recoil from the familiarity circumstances had forced on her, + treated that young woman with great coldness and hauteur. + </p> + <p> + The artful girl met this with extreme meekness and servility; the only + reply she ever hazarded was an adroit one; she would take this opportunity + to say, “How much better master do get ever since I took in hand to cure + him!” + </p> + <p> + This oblique retort seldom failed. Lady Bassett would look at her husband, + and her face would clear; and she would generally end by giving Mary a + collar, or a scarf, or something. + </p> + <p> + Thus did circumstances enable the lower nature to play with the higher. + Lady Bassett's struggles were like those of a bird in a silken net; they + led to nothing. When it came to the point she could neither do nor say any + thing to retard his cure. Any day the Court of Chancery, set in motion by + Richard Bassett, might issue a commission <i>de lunatico,</i> and, if Sir + Charles was not cured by that time, Richard Bassett would virtually + administer the estate—so Mr. Oldfield had told her—and that, + she felt sure, would drive Sir Charles mad for life. + </p> + <p> + So there was no help for it. She feared, she writhed, she hated herself; + but Sir Charles got better daily, and so she let herself drift along. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells made it fatally easy to her. She was the agent. Lady Bassett + was silent and passive. + </p> + <p> + After all she had a hope of extrication. Sir Charles once cured, she would + make him travel Europe with her. Money would relieve her of Mary Wells, + and distance cut all the other cords. + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, a time came when she looked back on her present situation + with wonder at the distress it had caused her. “I was in shallow water + then,” said she—“but now!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> + <p> + SIR CHARLES observed that he was never trusted alone. He remarked this, + and inquired, with a peculiar eye, why that was. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett had the tact to put on an innocent look and smile, and say: + “That is true, dearest. I <i>have</i> tied you to my apron-string without + mercy. But it serves you right for having fits and frightening me. You get + well, and my tyranny will cease at once.” + </p> + <p> + However, after this she often left him alone in the garden, to remove from + his mind the notion that he was under restraint from her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett observed this proceeding from his tower. + </p> + <p> + One day Mr. Angelo called, and Lady Bassett left Sir Charles in the + garden, to go and speak to him. + </p> + <p> + She had not been gone many minutes when a boy ran to Sir Charles, and + said, “Oh, sir, please come to the gate; the lady has had a fall, and hurt + herself.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, much alarmed, followed the boy, who took him to a side gate + opening on the high-road. Sir Charles rushed through this, and was passing + between two stout fellows that stood one on each side the gate, when they + seized him, and lifted him in a moment into a close carriage that was + waiting on the spot. He struggled, and cried loudly for assistance; but + they bundled him in and sprang in after him; a third man closed the door, + and got up by the side of the coachman. He drove off, avoiding the + village, soon got upon a broad road, and bowled along at a great rate, the + carriage being light, and drawn by two powerful horses. + </p> + <p> + So cleverly and rapidly was it done that, but for a woman's quick ear, the + deed might not have been discovered for hours; but Mary Wells heard the + cry for help through an open window, recognized Sir Charles's voice, and + ran screaming downstairs to Lady Bassett: she ran wildly out, with Mr. + Angelo, to look for Sir Charles. He was nowhere to be found. Then she + ordered every horse in the stables to be saddled; and she ran with Mary to + the place where the cry had been heard. + </p> + <p> + For some time no intelligence whatever could be gleaned; but at last an + old man was found who said he had heard somebody cry out, and soon after + that a carriage had come tearing by him, and gone round the corner: but + this direction was of little value, on account of the many roads, any one + of which it might have taken. + </p> + <p> + However, it left no doubt that Sir Charles had been taken away from the + place by force. + </p> + <p> + Terror-stricken, and pale as death, Lady Bassett never lost her head for a + moment. Indeed, she showed unexpected fire; she sent off coachman and + grooms to scour the country and rouse the gentry to help her; she gave + them money, and told them not to come back till they had found Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo said, eagerly, “I'll go to the nearest magistrate, and we will + arrest Richard Bassett on suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, dear friend!” sobbed Lady Bassett. “Oh, yes, it is his + doing—murderer!” + </p> + <p> + Off went Mr. Angelo on his errand. + </p> + <p> + He was hardly gone when a man was seen running and shouting across the + fields. Lady Bassett went to meet him, surrounded by her humble + sympathizers. It was young Drake: he came up panting, with a + double-barreled gun in his hand (for he was allowed to shoot rabbits on + his own little farm), and stammered out, “Oh, my lady—Sir Charles—they + have carried him off against his will!” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Where? Did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and heerd him and all. I was ferreting rabbits by the side of the + turnpike-road yonder, and a carriage came tearing along, and Sir Charles + put out his head and cried to me,' Drake, they are kidnapping me. Shoot!' + But they pulled him back out of sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor husband! And did you let them? Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't catch 'em, my lady: so I did as I was bid; got to my gun as + quick as ever I could, and gave the coachman both barrels hot.” + </p> + <p> + “What, kill him?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, no; 'twas sixty yards off; but made him holler and squeak a good + un. Put thirty or forty shots into his back, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I'll never forget that shot.” Then she + began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Doant ye, my lady, doant ye,” said the honest fellow, and was within an + ace of blubbering for sympathy. “We ain't a lot o' babies, to see our + squire kidnaped. If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a couple o' + nags, we'll catch them yet, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “That we will,” cried Abel. “You take me where you fired that shot, and + we'll follow the fresh wheel-tracks. They can't beat us while they keep to + a road.” + </p> + <p> + The two men were soon mounted, and in pursuit, amid the cheers of the now + excited villagers. But still the perpetrators of the outrage had more than + an hour's start; and an hour was twelve miles. + </p> + <p> + And now Lady Bassett, who had borne up so bravely, was seized with a + deadly faintness, and supported into the house. + </p> + <p> + All this spread like wild-fire, and roused the villagers, and they must + have a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. Bassett was to blame; and that + passed from one to another, and so fermented that, in the evening, a crowd + collected round Highmore House and demanded Mr. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at home. + </p> + <p> + Then the men demanded boisterously what he had done with Sir Charles, and + threatened to break the windows unless they were told; and, as nobody in + the house could tell them, the women egged on the men, and they did break + the windows; but they no sooner saw their own work than they were a little + alarmed at it, and retired, talking very loud to support their waning + courage and check their rising remorse at their deed. + </p> + <p> + They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor little Mrs. Bassett + half dead with fright. + </p> + <p> + As for Lady Bassett, she spent a horrible night of terror, suspense, and + agony. She could not lie down, nor even sit still; she walked incessantly, + wringing her hands, and groaning for news. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it was a situation beyond + the power of words to alleviate. + </p> + <p> + Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o'clock in the morning; and + then, in the still night, horses' feet came clattering up to the door. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted by a single lamp. + The great door was opened, and in clattered Moss and Drake, splashed and + weary and downcast. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” cried Lady Bassett, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “My lady,” said Moss, “we tracked the carriage into the next county, to a + place thirty miles from here—to a lodge—and there they stopped + us. The place is well guarded with men and great big dogs. We heerd 'em + bark, didn't us, Will?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Drake, dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + “The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. Says he, 'This is a place + nobody comes in but by law, and nobody goes out but by law. If the + gentleman is here you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough.'” + </p> + <p> + “A prison? No!” + </p> + <p> + “A 'sylum, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <h3> + THE lady put her hand to her heart, and was silent a long time. + </h3> + <p> + At last she said, doggedly but faintly, “You will go with me to that place + to-morrow, one of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go, my lady,” said Moss. “Will, here, had better not show his face. + They might take the law on him for that there shot.” + </p> + <p> + Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently cooled by discovering + that Sir Charles had been taken to a mad-house. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett saw and sighed, and said she would take Moss to show her the + way. + </p> + <p> + At eleven o'clock next morning a light carriage and pair came round to the + Hall gate, and a large basket, a portmanteau, and a bag were placed on the + roof under care of Moss; smaller packages were put inside; and Lady + Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black. + </p> + <p> + They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The lodge-gate was open, to + Lady Bassett's surprise, and they drove through some pleasant grounds to a + large white house. + </p> + <p> + The place at first sight had no distinctive character: great ingenuity had + been used to secure the inmates without seeming to incarcerate them. There + were no bars to the lower front windows, and the side windows, with their + defenses, were shrouded by shrubs. The sentinels were out of sight, or + employed on some occupation or other, but within call. Some patients were + playing at cricket; some ladies looking on; others strolling on the gravel + with a nurse, dressed very much like themselves, who did not obtrude her + functions unnecessarily. All was apparent indifference, and Argus-eyed + vigilance. So much for the surface. + </p> + <p> + Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked rooms had violent and + miserable inmates. + </p> + <p> + The hall door opened as the carriage drew up; a respectable servant came + forward. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, “I am come to see my husband, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + The man never moved a muscle, but said, “You must wait, if you please, + till I take your card in.” + </p> + <p> + He soon returned, and said, “Dr. Suaby is not here, but the gentleman in + charge will see you.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett got out, and, beckoning Mary Wells, followed the servant into + a curious room, half library, half chemist's shop; they called it “the + laboratory.” + </p> + <p> + Here she found a tall man leaning on a dirty mantelpiece, who received her + stiffly. He had a pale mustache, very thin lips, and altogether a severe + manner. His head bald, rather prematurely, and whiskers abundant. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked him all over with one glance of her woman's eye, and + saw she had a hard and vain man to deal with. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the gentleman to whom this house belongs?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “No, madam; I am in charge during Dr. Suaby's absence.” + </p> + <p> + “That comes to the same thing. Sir, I am come to see my dear husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you an order?” + </p> + <p> + “An order, sir? I am his wife.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Salter shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, “I have no authority + to let any visitor see a patient without an order from the person by whose + authority he is placed here, or else an order from the commissioners.” + </p> + <p> + “But that cannot apply to his wife; to her who is one with him, for better + for worse, in sickness or health.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems hard; but I have no discretion in the matter. The patient only + came yesterday—much excited. He is better to-day, and an interview + with you would excite him again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! no! no! I can always soothe him. I will be so mild, so gentle. You + can be present, and hear every word I say. I will only kiss him, and tell + him who has done this, and to be brave, for his wife watches over him; + and, sir, I will beg him to be patient, and not blame you nor any of the + people here.” + </p> + <p> + “Very proper, very proper; but really this interview must be postponed + till you have an order, or Dr. Suaby returns. He can violate his own rules + if he likes; but I cannot, and, indeed, I dare not.” + </p> + <p> + “Dare not let a lady see her husband? Then you are not a man. Oh, can this + be England? It is too inhuman.” + </p> + <p> + Then she began to cry and wring her hands. + </p> + <p> + “This is very painful,” said Mr. Salter, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + The respectable servant looked in soon after, and Lady Bassett told him, + between her sobs, that she had brought some clothes and things for her + husband. “Surely, sir,” said she, “they will not refuse me that?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, no, ma'am,” said the man. “You can give them to the keeper and + nurse in charge of him.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett slipped a guinea into the man's hand directly. “Let me see + those people,” said she. + </p> + <p> + The man winked, and vanished: he soon reappeared, and said, loudly, “Now, + madam, if you will order the things into the hall.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett came out and gave the order. + </p> + <p> + A short, bull-necked man, and rather a pretty young woman with a flaunting + cap, bestirred themselves getting down the things; and Mr. Salter came out + and looked on. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett called Mary Wells, and gave her a five-pound note to slip + into the man's hand. She telegraphed the girl, who instantly came near her + with an India rubber bath, and, affecting ignorance, asked her what that + was. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett dropped three sovereigns into the bath, and said, “Ten times, + twenty times that, if you are kind to him. Tell him it is his cousin's + doing, but his wife watches over him.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the girl. “Come again when the doctor is here.” + </p> + <p> + All this passed, in swift whispers, a few yards from Mr. Salter, and he + now came forward and offered his arm to conduct Lady Bassett to the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + But the wretched, heart-broken wife forgot her art of pleasing. She shrank + from him with a faint cry of aversion, and got into her carriage unaided. + Mary Wells followed her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Salter was unwilling to receive this rebuff. He followed, and said, + “The clothes shall be given, with any message you may think fit to intrust + to me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett turned away sharply from him, and said to Mary Wells, “Tell + him to drive home. Home! I have none now. Its light is torn from me.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage drove away as she uttered these piteous words. + </p> + <p> + She cried at intervals all the way home; and could hardly drag herself + upstairs to bed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo called next day with bad news. Not a magistrate would move a + finger against Mr. Bassett: he had the law on his side. Sir Charles was + evidently insane; it was quite proper he should be put in security before + he did some mischief to himself or Lady Bassett. “They say, why was he + hidden for two months, if there was not something very wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett ordered the carriage and paid several calls, to counteract + this fatal impression. + </p> + <p> + She found, to her horror, she might as well try to move a rock. There was + plenty of kindness and pity; but the moment she began to assure them her + husband was not insane she was met with the dead silence of polite + incredulity. One or two old friends went further, and said, “My dear, we + are told he could not be taken away without two doctors' certificates: + now, consider, they must know better than you. Have patience, and let them + cure him.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett withdrew her friendship on the spot from two ladies for + contradicting her on such a subject; she returned home almost wild + herself. + </p> + <p> + In the village her carriage was stopped by a woman with her hair all + flying, who told her, in a lamentable voice, that Squire Bassett had sent + nine men to prison for taking Sir Charles's part and ill-treating his + captors. + </p> + <p> + “My lawyer shall defend them at my expense,” said Lady Bassett, with a + sigh. + </p> + <p> + At last she got home, and went up to her own room, and there was Mary + Wells waiting to dress her. + </p> + <p> + She tottered in, and sank into a chair. But, after this temporary + exhaustion, came a rising tempest of passion; her eyes roved, her fingers + worked, and her heart seemed to come out of her in words of fire. “I have + not a friend in all the county. That villain has only to say 'Mad,' and + all turn from me, as if an angel of truth had said 'Criminal.' We have no + friend but one, and she is my servant. Now go and envy wealth and titles. + No wife in this parish is so poor as I; powerless in the folds of a + serpent. I can't see my husband without an order from <i>him.</i> He is + all power, I and mine all weakness.” She raised her clinched fists, she + clutched her beautiful hair as if she would tear it out by the roots. “I + shall, go mad! I shall go mad! No!” said she, all of a sudden. “That will + not do. That is what he wants—and then my darling <i>would</i> be + defenseless. I will not go mad.” Then suddenly grinding her white teeth: + “I'll teach him to drive a lady to despair. I'll fight.” + </p> + <p> + She descended, almost without a break, from the fury of a Pythoness to a + strange calm. Oh! then it is her sex are dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “Don't look so pale,” said she, and she actually smiled. “All is fair + against so foul a villain. You and I will defeat him. Dress me, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells, carried away by the unusual violence of a superior mind, was + quite bewildered. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett smiled a strange smile, and said, “I'll show you how to dress + me;” and she did give her a lesson that astonished her. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Lady Bassett, “I shall dress you.” And she took a loose + full dress out of her wardrobe, and made Mary Wells put it on; but first + she inserted some stuffing so adroitly that Mary seemed very buxom, but + what she wished to hide was hidden. Not so Lady Bassett herself. Her + figure looked much rounder than in the last dress she wore. + </p> + <p> + With all this she was late for dinner, and when she went down Mr. Angelo + had just finished telling Mr. Oldfield of the mishap to the villagers. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett came in animated and beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Dinner was announced directly, and a commonplace conversation kept up till + the servants were got rid of. She then told Mr. Oldfield how she had been + refused admittance to Sir Charles at Bellevue House, a plain proof, to her + mind, they knew her husband was not insane; and begged him to act with + energy, and get Sir Charles out before his reason could be permanently + injured by the outrage and the horror of his situation. + </p> + <p> + This led to a discussion, in which Mr. Angelo and Lady Bassett threw out + various suggestions, and Mr. Oldfield cooled their ardor with sound + objections. He was familiar with the Statutes de Lunatico, and said they + had been strictly observed both in the capture of Sir Charles and in Mr. + Salter's refusal to let the wife see the husband. In short, he appeared + either unable or unwilling to see anything except the strong legal + position of the adverse party. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Oldfield was one of those prudent lawyers who search for the + adversary's strong points, that their clients may not be taken by + surprise; and that is very wise of them. But wise things require to be + done wisely: he sometimes carried this system so far as to discourage his + client too much. It is a fine thing to make your client think his case the + weaker of the two, and then win it for him easily; that gratifies your own + foible, professional vanity. But suppose, with your discouraging him so, + he flings up or compromises a winning case? Suppose he takes the huff and + goes to some other lawyer, who will warm him with hopes instead of cooling + him with a one-sided and hostile view of his case? + </p> + <p> + In the present discussion Mr. Oldfield's habit of beginning by admiring + his adversaries, together with his knowledge of law and little else, and + his secret conviction that Sir Charles was unsound of mind, combined to + paralyze him; and, not being a man of invention, he could not see his way + out of the wood at all; he could negative Mr. Angelo's suggestions and + give good reasons, but he could not, or did not, suggest anything better + to be done. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a bitter smile, and + said, at last, with a sigh: “It seems, then, we are to sit quiet and do + nothing, while Mr. Bassett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow. There! + I'll fight my own battle; and do you try and find some way of defending + the poor souls that are in trouble because they did not sit with their + hands before them when their benefactor was outraged. Command my purse, if + money will save them from prison.” + </p> + <p> + Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelopard all down the room + on the side opposite to Mr. Oldfield. Angelo flew to open the door, and in + a whisper begged a word with her in private. She bowed ascent, and passed + on from the room. + </p> + <p> + “What a fine creature!” said Mr. Oldfield. “How she walks!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what was to be done for + the poor men: “they will be up before the Bench to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Stung a little by Lady Bassett's remark, Mr. Oldfield answered, promptly, + “We must get some tradesmen to bail them with our money. It will only be a + few pounds apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shall offer pecuniary + compensation, and get up a defense; find somebody to swear Sir Charles was + sane—that sort of evidence is always to be got. Counsel must do the + rest. Simple natives—benefactor outraged—honest impulse—regretted, + the moment they understood the capture had been legally made. Then throw + dirt on the plaintiff. He is malicious, and can be proved to have forsworn + himself in Bassett <i>v.</i> Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. “If you please, sir, my + lady is tired, and she wishes to say a word to you before she goes + upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me one minute,” said Mr. Angelo, and followed Mary Wells. She + ushered him into a boudoir, where he found Lady Bassett seated in an + armchair, with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on the + carpet. + </p> + <p> + She smiled faintly, and said, “Well, what do you wish to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I snubbed him, poor man: but if the law is all against us!” + </p> + <p> + “How does he know that? He assumes it because he is prejudiced in favor of + the enemy. How does he <i>know</i> they have done <i>everything</i> the + Act of Parliament requires? And, if they have, Law is not invincible. When + Law defies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled on in all civilized + communities.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard that before.” + </p> + <p> + “But you would if you had been at Oxford,” said he, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “What we want is a man of genius, of invention; a man who will see every + chance, take every chance, lawful or unlawful, and fight with all manner + of weapons.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett's eye flashed a moment. “Ah!” said she; “but where can I find + such a man, with knowledge to guide his zeal?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know of a man who could at all events advise you, if you would + ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Who?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he has + talent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing is + certain—his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he is + in earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out of confinement.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send an + outline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can advise you + in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “You may; and thank you a thousand times!” + </p> + <p> + “A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surely throw + some light.” + </p> + <p> + “One would think so, dear friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhaps get + an answer the day after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. A + writer, did you say? What does he write?” + </p> + <p> + “Fiction.” + </p> + <p> + “What, novels?” + </p> + <p> + “And dramas and all.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. “I should never think of going to + Fiction for wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + “When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the + consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation + saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that one + wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me. + One swallow does not make summer, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they are + works of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as a + novelist.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if he is a lawyer!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I may write?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Bassett, despondingly. + </p> + <p> + “What is to become of Oldfield?” + </p> + <p> + “Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him for another + hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come and relieve me + of Mr. Negative.” + </p> + <p> + She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr. + Oldfield found her very cold company. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and very handsome; + and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him. + </p> + <p> + This done she bade the gentlemen goodnight, and went to her room. Here she + found Mary Wells full of curiosity to know whether the lawyer would get + Sir Charles out of the asylum. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said nothing was to be + expected from such a Nullity. “Mary, he could not see. I gave him every + opportunity. I walked slowly down the room before him after dinner; and I + came into the drawing-room and moved about, and yet he could not see.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will have to tell him, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Never; no more shall you. I'll not trust my fate, and Sir Charles's, to a + man that has no eyes.” + </p> + <p> + For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor Oldfield; but to + Mr. Angelo she suppressed the real reason, and entered into that ardent + gentleman's grounds of discontent, though these alone would not have + entirely dissolved her respect for the family solicitor. + </p> + <p> + Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress and ire. “Beaten! + beaten! and all through our adversaries having more talent. Mr. Bassett + did not appear at first. Wheeler excused him on the ground that his wife + was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett's servants were called, and + swore to the damage and to the men, all but one. He got off. Then Oldfield + made a dry speech; and a tradesman he had prepared offered bail. The + magistrates were consulting, when in burst Mr. Bassett all in black, and + made a speech fifty times stronger than Oldfield's, and sobbed, and told + them the rioters had frightened his wife so she had been prematurely + confined, and the child was dead. Could they take bail for a riot, a + dastardly attack by a mob of cowards on a poor defenseless woman, the + gentlest and most inoffensive creature in England? Then he went on: 'They + were told I was not in the house; and then they found courage to fling + stones, to terrify my wife and kill my child. Poor soul!' he said, 'she + lies between life and death herself: and I come here in an agony of fear, + but I come for justice; the man of straw, who offers bail, is furnished + with the money by those who stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and + teach these cowards who war on defenseless ladies that there is humanity + and justice and law in the land.' Then Oldfield tried to answer him with + his hems and his haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and swept + him away.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too little of her. But you + suffer, and so must she. It is the most terrible feud; one would think + this was Corsica instead of England, only the fighting is not done with + daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Oldfield. We were all + carried away at first; but, now I think of it, Bassett must have been in + the court, and held back to make the climax. Oh, yes! it was another + surprise and another success. They are all sent to jail. Superior + generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, we should have had eight wives + crying for pity, each with one child in her arms, and another holding on + to her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss that Nullity.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles's lawyer; but I have promised you + to seek advice elsewhere, and so I will.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the church-bell. + </p> + <p> + The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “I must leave you,” said Angelo, regretfully. “I have to bury Mr. + Bassett's little boy; he lived an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll. + </p> + <p> + Strange, sad thoughts passed through her mind. “Is it saddest when it + tolls, or when it rings—that bell? He has killed his own child by + robbing me of my husband. We are in the hands of God, after all, let + Wheeler be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple.—And I am + not acting by that.—Where is my trust in God's justice?—Oh, + thou of little faith!—What shall I do? Love is stronger in me than + faith—stronger than anything in heaven or earth. God forgive me—God + help me—I will go back. + </p> + <p> + “But oh, to stand still, and be good and simple, and to see my husband + trampled on by a cunning villain! + </p> + <p> + “Why is there a future state, where everything is to be different? no + hate; no injustice; all love. Why is it not all of a piece? Why begin + wrong if it is to end all right? If I was omnipotent it should be right + from the first.—Oh, thou of little faith!—Ah, me! it is hard + to see fools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh, that I could shut + my eyes in faith and go to sleep, and drift on the right path; for I shall + never take it with my eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him.” + </p> + <p> + Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, and the tears welled + through them: they knew the way by this time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + NEXT morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend called on Mr. + Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he replies direct to me. May I read you + his letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “'DEAR SIR—The case you have sent me, of a gentleman confined on + certificates by order of an interested relative—as you presume, for + you have not seen the order—and on grounds you think insufficient, + is interesting, and some of it looks true; but there are gaps in the + statement, and I dare not advise in so nice a matter till these are + filled; but that, I suspect, can only be done by the lady herself. She had + better call on me in person; it may be worth her while. At home every day, + 10—3, this week. As for yourself, you need not address me through + Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterward stroke in the + University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth Harbor, and saved a sailor. + See “Ryde Journal,” Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; cited in my Day-book Aug. 10, + and also in my Index hominum, in voce “Angelo”—<i>ha! ha! here's a + fellow for detail!</i> + </p> + <p> + “Yours very truly, + </p> + <p> + “'ROLFE.'” + </p> + <p> + “And did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I what?” + </p> + <p> + “Dive and save a sailor.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I nailed him just as he was sinking.” + </p> + <p> + “How good and brave you are!” + </p> + <p> + Angelo blushed like a girl. “It makes me too happy to hear such words from + you. But I vote we don't talk about me. Will you call on Mr. Rolfe?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he married?” + </p> + <p> + Angelo opened his eyes at the question. “I think not,” said he. “Indeed, I + know he is not.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you get him down here?” + </p> + <p> + Angelo shook his head. “If he knew you, perhaps; but can you expect him to + come here upon your business? These popular writers are spoiled by the + ladies. I doubt if he would walk across the street to advise a stranger. + Candidly, why should he?” + </p> + <p> + “No; and it was ridiculous vanity to suppose he would. But I never called + on a gentleman in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me with you. You can go up at nine, and be back to a late dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never have the courage to go. Let me have his letter.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her the letter, and she took it away. + </p> + <p> + At six o'clock she sent Mary Wells to Mr. Angelo, with a note to say she + had studied Mr. Rolfe's letter, and there was more in it than she had + thought; but his going off from her husband to boat-racing seemed trivial, + and she could not make up her mind to go to London to consult a novelist + on such a serious matter. + </p> + <p> + At nine she sent to say she should go, but could not think of dragging him + there: she should take her maid. + </p> + <p> + Before eleven, she half repented this resolution, but her maid kept her to + it; and at half past twelve next day they reached Mr. Rolfe's door; an + old-fashioned, mean-looking house, in one of the briskest thoroughfares of + the metropolis; a cabstand opposite to the door, and a tide of omnibuses + passing it. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett viewed the place discontentedly, and said to herself, “What a + poky little place for a writer to live in; how noisy, how unpoetical!” + </p> + <p> + They knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid-servant. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Rolfe at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am. Please give me your card, and write the business.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett took out her card and wrote a line or two on the back of it. + The maid glanced at it, and showed her into a room, while she took the + card to her master. + </p> + <p> + The room was rather long, low, and nondescript; scarlet flock paper; + curtains and sofas green Utrecht velvet; woodwork and pillars white and + gold; two windows looking on the street; at the other end folding-doors + with scarcely any wood-work, all plate-glass, but partly hidden by heavy + curtains of the same color and material as the others. Accustomed to + large, lofty rooms, Lady Bassett felt herself in a long box here; but the + colors pleased her. She said to Mary Wells, “What a funny, cozy little + place for a gentleman to live in!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe was engaged with some one, and she was kept waiting; this was + quite new to her, and discouraged her, already intimidated by the novelty + of the situation. + </p> + <p> + She tried to encourage herself by saying it was for her husband she did + this unusual thing; but she felt very miserable and inclined to cry. + </p> + <p> + At last a bell rang; the maid came in and invited Lady Bassett to follow + her. She opened the glass folding-doors, and took them into a small + conservatory, walled like a grotto, with ferns sprouting out of rocky + fissures, and spars sparkling, water dripping. Then she opened two more + glass folding-doors, and ushered them into an empty room, the like of + which Lady Bassett had never seen; it was large in itself, and multiplied + tenfold by great mirrors from floor to ceiling, with no frames but a + narrow oak beading; opposite her, on entering, was a bay-window all + plate-glass, the central panes of which opened, like doors, upon a pretty + little garden that glowed with color, and was backed by fine trees + belonging to the nation; for this garden ran up to the wall of Hyde Park. + </p> + <p> + The numerous and large mirrors all down to the ground laid hold of the + garden and the flowers, and by double and treble reflection filled the + room with delightful nooks of verdure and color. + </p> + <p> + To confuse the eye still more, a quantity of young India-rubber trees, + with glossy leaves, were placed before the large central mirror. The + carpet was a warm velvet-pile, the walls were distempered, a French gray, + not cold, but with a tint of mauve that gave a warm and cheering bloom; + this soothing color gave great effect to the one or two masterpieces of + painting that hung on the walls and to the gilt frames; the furniture, oak + and marqueterie highly polished; the curtains, scarlet merino, through + which the sun shone, and, being a London sun, diffused a mild rosy tint + favorable to female faces. Not a sound of London could be heard. + </p> + <p> + So far the room was romantic; but there was a prosaic corner to shock + those who fancy that fiction is the spontaneous overflow of a poetic + fountain fed by nature only; between the fireplace and the window, and + within a foot or two of the wall, stood a gigantic writing-table, with the + signs of hard labor on it, and of severe system. Three plated buckets, + each containing three pints, full of letters to be answered, other letters + to be pasted into a classified guard-book, loose notes to be pasted into + various books and classified (for this writer used to sneer at the learned + men who say, “I will look among my papers for it;” he held that every + written scrap ought either to be burned, or pasted into a classified + guard-book, where it could be found by consulting the index); five things + like bankers' bill-books, into whose several compartments MS. notes and + newspaper cuttings were thrown, as a preliminary toward classification in + books. + </p> + <p> + Underneath the table was a formidable array of note-books, standing + upright, and labeled on their backs. There were about twenty large folios + of classified facts, ideas, and pictures—for the very wood-cuts were + all indexed and classified on the plan of a tradesman's ledger; there was + also the receipt-book of the year, treated on the same plan. Receipts on a + file would not do for this romantic creature. If a tradesman brought a + bill, he must be able to turn to that tradesman's name in a book, and + prove in a moment whether it had been paid or not. Then there was a + collection of solid quartos, and of smaller folio guard-books called + Indexes. There was “Index rerum et journalium”— “Index rerum et + librorum,”—“Index rerum et hominum,” and a lot more; indeed, so many + that, by way of climax, there was a fat folio ledger entitled “Index ad + Indices.” + </p> + <p> + By the side of the table were six or seven thick pasteboard cards, each + about the size of a large portfolio, and on these the author's notes and + extracts were collected from all his repertories into something like a + focus for a present purpose. He was writing a novel based on facts; facts, + incidents, living dialogue, pictures, reflections, situations, were all on + these cards to choose from, and arranged in headed columns; and some + portions of the work he was writing on this basis of imagination and + drudgery lay on the table in two forms, his own writing, and his + secretary's copy thereof, the latter corrected for the press. This copy + was half margin, and so provided for additions and improvements; but for + one addition there were ten excisions, great and small. Lady Bassett had + just time to take in the beauty and artistic character of the place, and + to realize the appalling drudgery that stamped it a workshop, when the + author, who had dashed into his garden for a moment's recreation, came to + the window, and furnished contrast No. 3. For he looked neither like a + poet nor a drudge, but a great fat country farmer. He was rather tall, + very portly, smallish head, commonplace features mild brown eye not very + bright, short beard, and wore a suit of tweed all one color. Such looked + the writer of romances founded on fact. He rolled up to the window—for, + if he looked like a farmer, he walked like a sailor—and stepped into + the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> + <p> + MR. ROLFE surveyed the two women with a mild, inoffensive, ox-like gaze, + and invited them to be seated with homely civility. + </p> + <p> + He sat down at his desk, and turning to Lady Bassett, said, rather + dreamily, “One moment, please: let me look at the case and my notes.” + </p> + <p> + First his homely appearance, and now a certain languor about his manner, + discouraged Lady Bassett more than it need; for all artists must pay for + their excitements with occasional languor. Her hands trembled, and she + began to gulp and try not to cry. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe observed directly, and said, rather kindly, “You are agitated; + and no wonder.” + </p> + <p> + He then opened a sort of china closet, poured a few drops of a colorless + liquid from a tiny bottle into a wine-glass, and filled the glass with + water from a filter. “Drink that, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with her eyes brimming. <i>“Must</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it will do you good for once in a way. It is only Ignatia.” + </p> + <p> + She drank it by degrees, and a tear along with it that fell into the + glass. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Mr. Rolfe had returned to his notes and examined them. He then + addressed her, half stiffly, half kindly: + </p> + <p> + “Lady Bassett, whatever may be your husband's condition—whether his + illness is mental or bodily, or a mixture of the two—his clandestine + examination by bought physicians, and his violent capture, the natural + effect of which must have been to excite him and retard his cure, were + wicked and barbarous acts, contrary to God's law and the common law of + England, and, indeed, to all human law except our shallow, incautious + Statutes de Lunatico: they were an insult to yourself, who ought at least + to have been consulted, for your rights are higher and purer than Richard + Bassett's; therefore, as a wife bereaved of your husband by fraud and + violence and the bare letter of a paltry statute whose spirit has been + violated, you are quite justified in coming to me or to any public man you + think can help your husband and you.” Then, with a certain <i>bonhomie,</i> + “So lay aside your nervousness; let us go into this matter sensibly, like + a big man and a little man, or like an old woman and a young woman, + whichever you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked at him and smiled assent. She felt a great deal more + at her ease after this opening. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not advise you yet. I must know more than Mr. Angelo has told me. + Will you answer my questions frankly?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose idea was it confining Sir Charles Bassett to the house so much?” + </p> + <p> + “His own. He felt himself unfit for society.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he describe his ailment to you then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better; what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “He said that, at times, a cloud seemed to come into his head, and then he + lost all power of mind; and he could not bear to be seen in that + condition.” + </p> + <p> + “This was after the epileptic seizure?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Now will you tell me how Mr. Bassett, by mere words, could so + enrage Sir Charles as to give him a fit?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “What did he say to Sir Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not speak to him. His child and nurse were there, and he called + out loud, for Sir Charles to hear, and told the nurse to hold up his child + to look at his inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “Malicious fool! But did this enrage Sir Charles so much as to give him a + fit?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “He must be very sensitive.” + </p> + <p> + “On that subject.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe was silent; and now, for the first time, appeared to think + intently. + </p> + <p> + His study bore fruit, apparently; for he turned to Lady Bassett and said, + suddenly, “What is the strangest thing Sir Charles has said of late—the + very strangest?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett turned red, and then pale, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe rose and walked up to Mary Wells. + </p> + <p> + “What is the maddest thing your master has ever said?” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells, instead of replying, looked at her mistress. + </p> + <p> + The writer instantly put his great body between them. “Come, none of + that,” said he. “I don't want a falsehood—I want the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “La, sir, I don't know. My master he is not mad, I'm sure. The queerest + thing he ever said was—he did say at one time 'twas writ on his face + as he had no children.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! And that is why he would not go abroad, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “That was one reason, sir, I do suppose.” Mr. Rolfe put his hands behind + his back and walked thoughtfully and rather disconsolately back to his + seat. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said he. Then, after a pause, “Well, well; I know the worst now; + that is one comfort. Lady Bassett, you really must be candid with me. + Consider: good advice is like a tight glove; it fits the circumstances, + and it does not fit other circumstances. No man advises so badly on a + false and partial statement as I do, for the very reason that my advice is + a close fit. Even now I can't understand Sir Charles's despair of having + children of his own.” + </p> + <p> + The writer then turned his looks on the two women, with an entire absence + of expression; the sense of his eyes was turned inward, though the orbs + were directed toward his visitors. + </p> + <p> + With this lack-luster gaze, and in the tone of thoughtful soliloquy, he + said, “Has Sir Charles Bassett no eyes? and are there women so furtive, so + secret, or so bashful, they do not tell their husbands?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett turned with a scared look to Mary Wells, and that young woman + showed her usual readiness. She actually came to Mr. Rolfe and half + whispered to him, “If you please, sir, gentlemen are blind, and my lady + she is very bashful; but Sir Charles knows it now; he have known it a good + while; and it was a great comfort to him; he was getting better, sir, when + the villains took him—ever so much better.” + </p> + <p> + This solution silenced Mr. Rolfe, though it did not quite satisfy him. He + fastened on Mary Wells's last statement. “Now tell me: between the day + when those two doctors got into his apartment and the day of his capture, + how long?” + </p> + <p> + “About a fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + “And in that particular fortnight was there a marked improvement?” + </p> + <p> + “La, yes, sir; was there not, my lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed there was, sir. He was beginning to take walks with me in the + garden, and rides in an open carriage. He was getting better every day; + and oh, sir, that is what breaks my heart! I was curing my darling so + fast, and now they will do all they can to destroy him. Their not letting + his wife see him terrifies me.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can explain that. Now tell me—what time do you expect—a + certain event?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett blushed and cast a hasty glance at the speaker; but he had a + piece of paper before him, and was preparing to take down her reply, with + the innocent face of a man who had asked a simple and necessary question + in the way of business. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Bassett looked at Mary Wells, and this look Mr. Rolfe surprised, + because he himself looked up to see why the lady hesitated. + </p> + <p> + After an expressive glance between the mistress and maid, the lady said, + almost inaudibly, “More than three months;” and then she blushed all over. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe looked at the two women a moment, and seemed a little puzzled at + their telegraphing each other on such a subject; but he coolly noted down + Lady Bassett's reply on a card about the size of a foolscap sheet, and + then set himself to write on the same card the other facts he had + elicited. + </p> + <p> + While he was doing this very slowly, with great care and pains, the lady + was eying him like a zoologist studying some new animal. The simplicity + and straightforwardness of his last question won by degrees upon her + judgment and reconciled her to her Inquisitor, the more so as he was quiet + but intense, and his whole soul in her case. She began to respect his + simple straightforwardness, his civility without a grain of gallantry, and + his caution in eliciting all the facts before he would advise. + </p> + <p> + After he had written down his synopsis, looking all the time as if his + life depended on its correctness, he leaned back, and his ordinary but + mobile countenance was transfigured into geniality. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he, “grandmamma has pestered you with questions enough; now + you retort—ask me anything—speak your mind: these things + should be attacked in every form, and sifted with every sieve.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett hesitated a moment, but at last responded to this invitation. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, one thing that discourages me cruelly—my solicitor seems so + inferior to Mr. Bassett's. He can think of nothing but objections; and so + he does nothing, and lets us be trampled on: it is his being unable to + cope with Mr. Bassett's solicitor, Mr. Wheeler, that has led me in my deep + distress to trouble you, whom I had not the honor of knowing.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your ladyship perfectly. Mr. Oldfield is a respectable + solicitor, and Wheeler is a sharp country practitioner; and—to use + my favorite Americanism—you feel like fighting with a blunt knife + against a sharp one.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my feeling, sir, and it drives me almost wild sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “For your comfort, then, in my earlier litigations—I have had + sixteen lawsuits for myself and other oppressed people—I had often + that very impression; but the result always corrected it. Legal battles + are like other battles: first you have a skirmish or two, and then a great + battle in court. Now sharp attorneys are very apt to win the skirmish and + lose the battle. I see a general of this stamp in Mr. Wheeler, and you + need not fear him much. Of course an antagonist is never to be despised; + but I would rather have Wheeler against you than Oldfield. An honest man + like Oldfield blunders into wisdom, the Lord knows how. Your Wheelers + seldom get beyond cunning; and cunning does not see far enough to cope + with men of real sagacity and forethought in matters so complicated as + this. Oldfield, acting for Bassett, would have pushed rapidly on to an + examination by the court. You would have evaded it, and put yourself in + the wrong; and the inquiry, well urged, might have been adverse to Sir + Charles. Wheeler has taken a more cunning and violent course—it + strikes more terror, does more immediate harm; but what does it lead to? + Very little; and it disarms them of their sharpest weapon, the immediate + inquiry; for we could now delay and greatly prejudice an inquiry on the + very ground of the outrage and unnecessary violence; and could demand time + to get the patient as well as he was before the outrage. And, indeed, the + court is very jealous of those who begin by going to a judge, and then + alter their minds, and try to dispose of the case themselves. And to make + matters worse, here they do it by straining an Act of Parliament opposed + to equity.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it may prove so, sir; but, meantime, Mr. Wheeler is active, Mr. + Oldfield is passive. He has not an idea. He is a mere negative.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is because he is out of his groove. A smattering of law is not + enough here. It wants a smattering of human nature too.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, would you advise me to part with Mr. Oldfield?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Why make an enemy? Besides, he is the vehicle of communication with + the other side. You must simply ignore him for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “But is there nothing I can do, sir? for it is this cruel inactivity that + kills me. Pray advise me—you know all now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe, thus challenged, begged for a moment's delay. + </p> + <p> + “Let us be silent a minute,” said he, “and think hard.” + </p> + <p> + And, to judge by his face, he did think with great intensity. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Bassett,” said he, very gravely, “I assume that every fact you and + Mr. Angelo have laid before me is true, and no vital part is kept back. + Well, then, your present course is—Delay. Not the weak delay of + those who procrastinate what cannot be avoided; but the wise delay of a + general who can bring up overpowering forces, only give him time. + Understand me, there is more than one game on the cards; but I prefer the + surest. We could begin fighting openly to-morrow; but that would be + risking too much for too little. The law's delay, the insolence of office, + the up-hill and thorny way, would hurt Sir Charles's mind at present. The + apathy, the cruelty, the trickery, the routine, the hot and cold fits of + hope and fear, would poison your blood, and perhaps lose Sir Charles the + heir he pines for. Besides, if we give battle to-day we fight the heir at + law; but in three or four months we may have him on our side, and trustees + appointed by you. By that time, too, Sir Charles will have got over that + abominable capture, and be better than he was a week ago, constantly + soothed and consoled—as he will be—by the hope of offspring. + When the right time comes, that moment we strike, and with a + sledge-hammer. No letters to the commissioners then, no petitioning + Chancery to send a jury into the asylum, stronghold of prejudice. I will + cut your husband in two. Don't be alarmed. I will merely give him, with + your help, an <i>alter ego,</i> who shall effect his liberation and ruin + Richard Bassett—ruin him in damages and costs, and drive him out of + the country, perhaps. Meantime you are not to be a lay figure, or a mere + negative.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I am so glad of that!” + </p> + <p> + “Far from that: you will act defensively. Mr. Bassett has one chance; you + must be the person to extinguish it. Injudicious treatment in the asylum + might retard Sir Charles's cure; their leeches and their sedatives, + administered by sucking apothecaries, who reason it <i>a priori,</i> + instead of watching the effect of these things on the patient, might + seriously injure your husband, for his disorder is connected with a weak + circulation of blood in the vessels of the brain. We must therefore guard + against that at once. To work, then. Who keeps this famous asylum?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Suaby.” + </p> + <p> + “Suaby? I know that name. He has been here, I think. I must look in my + Index rerum et hominum. Suaby? Not down. Try Asyla.—Asyla; 'Suaby: + see letter-book for the year—, p. 368.' An old letter-book. I must + go elsewhere for that.” + </p> + <p> + He went out, and after some time returned with a folio letter-book. + </p> + <p> + “Here are two letters to me from Dr. Suaby, detailing his system and + inviting me to spend a week at his asylum. Come, come; Sir Charles is with + a man who does not fear inspection; for at this date I was bitter against + private asylums—rather indiscriminately so, I fear. Stay! he visited + me; I thought so. Here's a description of him: 'A pale, thoughtful man, + with a remarkably mild eye: is against restraint of lunatics, and against + all punishment of them—Quixotically so. Being cross-examined, + declares that if a patient gave him a black eye he would not let a keeper + handle him roughly, being irresponsible.' No more would I, if I could give + him a good licking myself. Please study these two letters closely; you may + get a clew how to deal with the amiable writer in person.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Mr. Rolfe,” said Lady Bassett, flushing all over. She was + so transported at having something to do. She quietly devoured the + letters, and after she had read them said a load of fears was now taken + off her mind. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe shook his head. “You must not rely on Dr. Suaby too much. In a + prison or an asylum each functionary is important in exact proportion to + his nominal insignificance; and why? Because the greater his nominal + unimportance the more he comes in actual contact with the patient. The + theoretical scale runs thus: 1st. The presiding physician. 2d. The medical + subordinates. 3d. The keepers and nurses. The practical scale runs thus: + 1st. The keepers and nurses. 2d. The medical attendants. 3d. The presiding + physician.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you say so, sir; for when I went to the asylum, and the + medical attendant, Mr. Salter, would not let me see my husband. I gave his + keeper and the nurse a little money to be kind to him in his confinement.” + </p> + <p> + “You did! Yet you come here for advice? This is the way: a man discourses + and argues, and by profound reasoning—that is, by what he thinks + profound, and it isn't—arrives at the right thing; and lo! a woman, + with her understanding heart and her hard, good sense, goes and does that + wise thing humbly, without a word. SURSUM CORDA!—<i>Cheer up, loving + heart!”</i> shouted he, like the roar of a lion in ecstasies; “you have + done a masterstroke—without Oldfield, or Rolfe, or any other man.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett clasped her hands with joy, and some electric fire seemed to + run through her veins; for she was all sensibilities, and this sudden + triumphant roaring out of strong words was quite new to her, and carried + her away. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said this eccentric personage, cooling quite as suddenly as he had + fired, “the only improvement I can suggest is, be a little more precise at + your next visit. Promise his keepers twenty guineas apiece the day Sir + Charles is <i>cured;</i> and promise them ten guineas apiece not to + administer one drop of medicine for the next two months; and, of course, + no leech nor blister. The cursed sedatives they believe in are destruction + to Sir Charles Bassett. His circulation must not be made too slow one day, + and too fast the next, which is the effect of a sedative, but made regular + by exercise and nourishing food. So, then, you will square the keepers by + their cupidity; the doctor is on the right side <i>per se.</i> Shall we + rely on these two, and ignore the medical attendants? No; why throw a + chance away? What is the key to these medical attendants? Hum! Try + flunkyism. I have great faith in British flunkyism. Pay your next visit + with four horses, two outriders, and blazing liveries. Don't dress in + perfect taste like <i>that;</i> go in finer clothes than you ever wore in + the morning, or ought to wear, except at a wedding; go not as a + petitioner, but as a queen; and dazzle snobs; the which being dazzled, + then tickle their vanity: don't speak of Sir Charles as an injured man, + nor as a man unsound in mind, but a gentleman who is rather ill; 'but <i>now,</i> + gentlemen, I feel your remarkable skill will soon set him right.' Your + husband runs that one risk; make him safe: a few smiles and a little + flattery will do it; and if not, why, fight with all a woman's weapons. + Don't be too nice: we must all hold a candle to the devil once in our + lives. A wife's love sanctifies a woman's arts in fighting with a villain + and disarming donkeys.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish I was there now!” + </p> + <p> + “You are excited, madam,” said he, severely. “That is out of place—in + a deliberative assembly.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; only I want to be there, doing all this for my dear husband.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very excited; and it is my fault. You must be hungry too: you + have come a journey. There will be a reaction, and then you will be + hysterical. Your temperament is of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + He rang a bell and ordered his maid-servant to bring some beef-wafers and + a pint of dry Champagne. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be quiet; “for,” said he, “I + have a smattering of medicine, as well as of law and of human nature. Sir + Charles must correspond with you. Probably he has already written you six + letters complaining of this monstrous act—a sane man incarcerated. + Well, that class of letter goes into a letter-box in the hall of an + asylum, but it never reaches its address. Please take a pen and write a + formula.” He dictated as follows: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LOVE—The trifling illness I had when I came here is + beginning to give way to the skill and attention of the medical gentlemen + here. They are all most kind and attentive: the place, as it is conducted, + is a credit to the country.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett's eyes sparkled. “Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not this rather artful?” + </p> + <p> + “And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage the writing of + letters, and then open them, and suppress whatever is disagreeable? May + every man who opens another man's letter find that letter a trap. Here + comes your medicine. You never drink champagne in the middle of the day, + of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it will be all the better medicine.” + </p> + <p> + He made both mistress and maid eat the thin slices of beef and drink a + glass of champagne. + </p> + <p> + While they were thus fortifying themselves he wrote his address on some + stamped envelopes, and gave them to Lady Bassett, and told her she had + better write to him at once if anything occurred. “You must also write to + me if you really cannot get to see your husband. Then I will come down + myself, with the public press at my back. But I am sure that will not be + necessary in Dr. Suaby's asylum. He is a better Christian than I am, + confound him for it! You went too soon; your husband had been agitated by + the capture; Suaby was away; Salter had probably applied what he imagined + to be soothing remedies, leeches—a blister—morphia. Result, + the patient was so much worse than he was before they touched him that + Salter was ashamed to let you see him. Having really excited him, instead + of soothing him, Sawbones Salter had to pretend that <i>you</i> would + excite him. As if creation contained any mineral, drug simple, leech, + Spanish fly, gadfly, or showerbath, so soothing as a loving wife is to a + man in affliction. New reading of an old song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'If the heart of a man is oppressed with cares, + It makes him much worse when a woman appears.' +</pre> + <p> + “Go to-morrow; you will see him. He will be worse than he was; but not + much. Somebody will have told him that his wife put him in there—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “And he won't have believed it. His father was a Bassett; his mother a Le + Compton; his great-great-great-grandmother was a Rolfe: there is no cur's + blood in him. After the first shock he will have found the spirit and + dignity of a gentleman to sustain adversity: these men of fashion are like + that; they are better steel than women—and writers.” + </p> + <p> + When he had said this he indicated by his manner that he thought he had + exhausted the subject, and himself. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett rose and said, “Then, sir, I will take my leave; and oh! I am + sorry I have not your eloquent pen or your eloquent tongue to thank you. + You have interested yourself in a stranger—you have brought the + power of a great mind to bear on our distress. I came here a widow—now + I feel a wife again. Your good words have warmed my very heart. I can only + pray God to bless you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray say no more, madam,” said Mr. Rolfe, hastily. “A gentleman cannot be + always writing lies; an hour or two given to truth and justice is a + wholesome diversion. At all events, don't thank me till my advice has + proved worth it.” + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell; the servant came, and showed the way to the street door. + Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowed ceremoniously + once more to Lady Bassett as she went out. + </p> + <p> + As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was her + counselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distracted bullock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't think much of <i>he,”</i> said Mary Wells. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbed and + taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, but was more + able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in digesting Rolfe's + every word, and fixing his map in her mind, and filling in details to his + outline; so small-talk stung her: she gave her companion very short + answers, especially when she disparaged Mr. Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't get in a word edgeways,” said Mary Wells. + </p> + <p> + “I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “How <i>can</i> he, and see other men?” + </p> + <p> + “Well. I don't think much of him, for my part.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a silly + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; that was afore my time” (rather pertly). + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sent directions + to the coachman and grooms. + </p> + <p> + At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started for the + asylum—coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders. + </p> + <p> + Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two fresh horses + having been sent on at night. + </p> + <p> + They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was left + ostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many a + pale face peeping from the upper windows. + </p> + <p> + The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectful air. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowed to + see Mr. Coyne. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people to open + the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr. Coyne + appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, vulgar face, + liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly at sight of a fine + woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Coyne, I believe,” said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile. + </p> + <p> + “At your service, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “May I have a word in private with you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said the little man, apologetically, “I must ask you to + send them to the inn. It is close by.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means.” (To one of the outriders:) “You will wait here for + orders.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells had been already instructed to wait in the hall and look out + sharp for Sir Charles's keeper and nurse, and tell them her ladyship + wanted to speak to them privately, and it would be money in their way. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to congratulate + herself. “Mr. Bassett,” said she, “is no friend of mine, but he has done + me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, when he might have sent him to + some place where he might have been made worse instead of better. Here, I + conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure his trifling disorder, + will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I have good hopes, your ladyship; he is better to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I dare say you could tell me to a month when he will be cured.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much.” + </p> + <p> + “Three months?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship may rely on it we will + do our best.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, by-the-by, Dr. Willis + wanted me to take a message to you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you by + reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Really I was not aware that my humble—” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are better known than you in your modesty supposed. Let me see: + what was the message? Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles he wished + you to know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and he wished me to + tell you that morphia and other sedatives have some very bad effects on + him. I told Dr. Willis you would probably find that and every thing else + out without a hint from him or any one else.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I will make a note of it, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very kind of you. It will flatter the doctor, the more so as he + has so high an opinion of you. But now, Mr. Coyne, I suppose if I am very + good, and promise to soothe him, and not excite him, I may see my husband + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madam. You have an order from the person who—” + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to bring it with me. I relied on your humanity.” + </p> + <p> + “That is unfortunate. I am afraid I must not—” He hesitated, looked + very uncomfortable, and said he would consult Mr. Appleton; then, suddenly + puckering his face into obsequiousness, “Would your ladyship like to + inspect some of our arrangements for the comfort of our patients?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett would have declined the proposal but for the singular play of + countenance; she was herself all eye and mind, so she said, gravely, “I + shall be very happy, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Coyne then led the way, and showed her a large sitting-room, where + some ladies were seated at different occupations and amusements: they kept + more apart from each other than ladies do in general; but this was the + only sign a far more experienced observer than Lady Bassett could have + discovered, the nurses having sprung from authoritative into unobtrusive + positions at the sound of Mr. Coyne's footstep outside. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Lady Bassett; “are all these ladies—” She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Every one,” said Mr. Coyne; “and some incurably.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please let us retire; I have no right to gratify my curiosity. Poor + things! they don't seem unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy!” said Mr. Coyne. “We don't allow unhappiness here; our doctor is + too fond of them; he is always contriving something to please them.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Lady Bassett looked up and saw a woman watching her over + the rail of a corridor on the first floor. She recognized the face + directly. The woman made her a rapid signal, and then disappeared into one + of the rooms. + </p> + <p> + “Would there be any objection to our going upstairs, Mr. Coyne?” said Lady + Bassett, with a calm voice and a heart thumping violently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, none whatever. I'll conduct you; but then, I am afraid I must leave + you for a time.” + </p> + <p> + He showed her upstairs, blew a whistle, handed her over to an attendant, + and bowed and smiled himself away grotesquely. + </p> + <p> + Jones was the very keeper she had feed last visit. She flushed with joy at + sight of bull-necked, burly Jones. “Oh, Mr. Jones!” said she, putting her + hands together with a look that might have melted a hangman. + </p> + <p> + Jones winked, and watched Mr. Coyne out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen your ladyship's maid,” said Jones, confidentially. “It is all + right. Mr. Coyne have got the blinkers on. Only pass me your word not to + excite him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, sir, I will soothe him.” And she trembled all over. + </p> + <p> + “Sally!” cried Jones. + </p> + <p> + The nurse came out of a room and held the door ajar; she whispered, “I + have prepared him, madam; he is all right.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett, by a great effort, kept her feet from rushing, her heart + from crying out with joy, and she entered the room. Sally closed the door + like a shot, with a delicacy one would hardly have given her credit for, + to judge from appearances. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles stood in the middle of the room, beaming to receive her, but + restraining himself. They met: he held her to his heart; she wept for joy + and grief upon his neck. Neither spoke for a long time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> + <p> + THEY were seated hand in hand, comparing notes and comforting each other. + Then Lady Bassett met with a great surprise: forgetting, or rather not + realizing, Sir Charles's sex and character, she began with a heavy heart + to play the consoler; but after he had embraced her many times with tender + rapture, and thanked God for the sight of her, lo and behold, this doughty + baronet claimed his rights of manhood, and, in spite of his capture, his + incarceration, and his malady, set to work to console her, instead of + lying down to be consoled. + </p> + <p> + “My darling Bella,” said he, “don't you make a mountain of a mole-hill. + The moment you told me I should be a father I began to get better, and to + laugh at Richard Bassett's malice. Of course I was terribly knocked over + at first by being captured like a felon and clapped under lock and key; + but I am getting over that. My head gets muddled once a day, that is all. + They gave me some poison the first day that made me drunk twelve hours + after; but they have not repeated it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Lady Bassett, “then don't let me lose a moment. How could I + forget?” She opened the door, and called in Mr. Jones and the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jones,” said she, “the first day my husband came here Mr. Salter gave + him a sedative, or something, and it made him much worse.” + </p> + <p> + “It always do make 'em worse,” said Jones, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did he give it?” + </p> + <p> + “Out o' book, ma'am. His sort don't see how the medicines work; but we do, + as are always about the patient.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jones,” said Lady Bassett, “if Mr. Salter, or anybody, prescribes, it + is you who <i>administer</i> the medicine.” + </p> + <p> + Jones assented with a wink. Winking was his foible, as puckering of the + face was Coyne's. + </p> + <p> + “Should you be offended if I were to offer you and the nurse ten guineas a + month to pretend you had given him Mr. Salter's medicines, and not do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir Charles,” said Jones. + “But I didn't ought to take so much money for that. To be sure, I suppose, + the lady won't miss it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a donkey, Jones,” said Sir Charles, cutting short his hypocrisy. + “Take whatever you can get; only earn it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what I takes I earns.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Sir Charles. “So that is settled. You have got to physic + those flower-pots instead of me, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + This view of things tickled Jones so that he roared with laughter. + However, he recollected himself all of a sudden, and stopped with + ludicrous abruptness. + </p> + <p> + He said to Lady Bassett, with homely kindness, “You go home comfortable, + my lady; you have taken the stick by the right end.” He then had the good + sense to retire from the room. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Bassett told Sir Charles of her visit to London, and her calling + on Mr. Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + He looked blank at his wife calling on a bachelor; but her description of + the man, his age, and his simplicity, reconciled him to that; and when she + told him the plan and order of campaign Mr. Rolfe had given her he + approved it very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + He fastened in particular on something that Mr. Rolfe had dwelt lightly + on. “Dear as the sight of you is to me, sweet as the sound of your loved + voice is to my ears and my heart, I would rather not see you again until + our hopes are realized than jeopardize <i>that.”</i> + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sighed, for this seemed rather morbid. Sir Charles went on: + “So think of your own health first, and avoid agitations. I am tormented + with fear lest that monster should take advantage of my absence to molest + you. If he does, leave Huntercombe. Yes, leave it; go to London; go, even + for my sake; my health and happiness depend on you; they cannot be much + affected by anything that happens here. 'Stone walls do not a prison make, + nor iron bars a cage.'” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett promised, but said she could not keep away from him, and he + must often write to her. She gave him Rolfe's formula, and told him all + letters would pass that praised the asylum. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles made a wry face. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett's wrist went round his neck in a moment. “Oh, Charles, dear, + for my sake—hold a little, little candle to the devil. Mr. Rolfe + says we must. Oblige me in this—I am not so noble as you—and + then I'll be very good and obedient in what your heart is set upon.” + </p> + <p> + At last Sir Charles consented. + </p> + <p> + Then they made haste, and told each other everything that had happened, + and it was late in the afternoon before they parted. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett controlled her tears at parting as well as she could. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Coyne had slyly hid himself, but emerged when she came down to the + carriage, and she shook him warmly by the hand, and he bowed at the door + incessantly, with his face all in a pucker, till the cavalcade dashed + away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> + <h3> + LADY BASSETT timed her next visit so that she found Dr. Suaby at home. + </h3> + <p> + He received her kindly, and showed himself a master; told her Sir + Charles's was a mixed case, in which the fall, the fit, and a morbid + desire for offspring had all played their parts. + </p> + <p> + He hoped a speedy cure, but said he counted on her assistance. There was + no doubt what he meant. + </p> + <p> + Oh, for one thing, he said to her, rather slyly, “Coyne tells me you have + been good enough to supply us with a hint as to his treatment; sedatives + are opposed to his idiosyncrasy.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett blushed high, and said something about Dr. Willis. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are quite right, you and Dr. Willis; only you are not so very + conversant with that idiosyncrasy. Why have you let him smoke twenty + cigars every day of his life? the brain is accessible by other roads than + the stomach. Well, we have got him down to four cigars, and in a month we + will have him down to two. The effect of that, and exercise, and simple + food, and the absence of powerful excitements—you will see. Do your + part,” said he, gayly, “we will do ours. He is the most interesting + patient in the house, and born to adorn society, though by a concurrence + of unhappy circumstances he is separated from it for a while.” + </p> + <p> + She spent the whole afternoon with Sir Charles, and they dined together at + the doctor's private table, with one or two patients who were touched, but + showed no signs of it on that occasion; for the good doctor really acted + like oil on the troubled waters. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles and Lady Bassett corresponded, and so kept their hearts up; + but after Rolfe's hint the correspondence was rather guarded. If these + letters were read in the asylum the curious would learn that Sir Charles + was far more anxious about his wife's condition than his own; but that + these two patient persons were only waiting a certain near event to attack + Richard Bassett with accumulated fury—that smoldering fire did not + smoke by letter, but burned deep in both their sore and heavy, but + enduring, Anglo-Saxon hearts. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett wrote to Mr. Rolfe, thanking him again for his advice, and + telling him how it worked. + </p> + <p> + She had a very short reply from that gentleman. + </p> + <p> + But about six weeks after her visit he surprised her a little by writing + of his own accord, and asking her for a formal introduction to Sir Charles + Bassett, and begging her to back a request that Sir Charles would devote a + leisure hour or two to correspondence with him. “Not,” said he, “on his + private affairs, but on a matter of general interest. I want a few of his + experiences and observations in that place. I have the less scruple in + asking it, that whatever takes him out of himself will be salutary.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett sent him the required introduction in such terms that Sir + Charles at once consented to oblige his wife by obliging Mr. Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + “My DEAR SIR—In compliance with your wish, and Lady Bassett's, I + send you a few desultory remarks on what I see here. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“1st. The lines, + + 'Great wits to madness nearly are allied, + And thin partitions do their bonds divide,' +</pre> + <p> + are, in my opinion, exaggerated and untrue. Taking the people here as a + guide, the insane in general appear to be people with very little brains, + and enormous egotism. + </p> + <p> + “My next observation is, that the women have far less imagination than the + men; they cannot even realize their own favorite delusions. For instance, + here are two young ladies, the Virgin Mary and the Queen of England. How + do they play their parts? They sit aloof from all the rest, with their + noses in the air. But gauge their imaginations; go down on one knee, or + both, and address them as a saint and a queen; they cannot say a word in + accordance; yet they are cunning enough to see they cannot reply in + character, so they will not utter a syllable to their adorers. They are + like the shop-boys who go to a masquerade as Burleigh or Walsingham, and + when you ask them who is Queen Bess's favorite just now, blush, and look + offended, and pass sulkily on. + </p> + <p> + “The same class of male lunatics can speak in character; and this + observation has made me doubt whether philosophers are not mistaken in + saying that women generally have more imagination than men. I suspect they + have infinitely less; and I believe their great love of novels, which has + been set down to imagination, arises mainly from their want of it. You + writers of novels supply that defect for them by a pictorial style, by an + infinity of minute details, and petty aids to realizing, all which an + imaginative reader can do for himself on reading a bare narrative of + sterling facts and incidents. + </p> + <p> + “I find a monotony in madness. So many have inspirations, see phantoms, + are the victims of vast conspiracies (principalities and powers combined + against a fly); their food is poisoned, their wine is drugged, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “These, I think, are all forms of that morbid egotism which is at the + bottom of insanity. So is their antipathy for each other. They keep apart, + because a madman is all self, and his talk is all self; thus egotisms, + clash, and an antipathy arises; yet it is not, I think, pure antipathy, + though so regarded, but a mere form of their boundless egotism. + </p> + <p> + “If, in visiting an asylum, you see two or three different patients + buttonhole a fourth and pour their grievances into a listening ear, you + may safely suspect No. 4 of—sanity. + </p> + <p> + “On the whole, I think the doctor himself, and one of his attendants, and + Jones, a keeper, have more solid eccentricity and variety about them than + most of the patients.” + </p> + <p> + Extract from Letter 2, written about a fortnight later: + </p> + <p> + “Some insane persons have a way of couching their nonsense in language + that sounds rational, and has a false air of logical connection. Their + periods seem stolen from sensible books, and forcibly fitted to + incongruous bosh. By this means the ear is confused, and a slow hearer + might fancy he was listening to sense. + </p> + <p> + “I have secured you one example of this. You must know that, in the + evening, I sometimes collect a few together, and try to get them to tell + their stories. Little comes of it in general but interruptions. But, one + night, a melancholy Bagman responded in good set terms, and all in a + moment; one would have thought I had put a torch to a barrel of powder, he + went off so quickly, in this style: + </p> + <p> + “'You ask my story: it is briefly told. Initiated in commerce from my + earliest years, and traveled in the cotton trade. As representative of a + large house in Manchester, I visited the United States. + </p> + <p> + “'Unfortunately for me, that country was then the chosen abode of spirits; + the very air was thick and humming with supernaturalia. Ere long + spirit-voices whispered in my ear, and suggested pious aspirations at + first. That was a blind, no doubt; for very soon they went on to insinuate + things profane and indelicate, and urged me to deliver them in mixed + companies; I forbore with difficulty, restrained by the early lessons of a + pious mother, and a disinclination to be kicked downstairs, or flung out + o' window. + </p> + <p> + “'I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in its beautiful + Doric, “Old oss, I reckon you'd better change the air.” I grasped his + hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for England. + </p> + <p> + “'On ocean's peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But under this deceitful + calm fresh dangers brooded. Two doctors had stolen into the ship, unseen + by human eye, and bided their time. Unable to act at sea, owing to the + combined effect of wind and current, they concealed themselves on deck + under a black tarpaulin—that is to say, it had been black, but wind + and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown—and there, adopting for + the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, the caterpillar, and + other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. But the moment the vessel + touched the quay, profiting by the commotion, they emerged, and signed + certificates with chalk on my portmanteau; then vanished in the crowd. The + Custom-house read the certificates, and seized my luggage as contraband. I + was too old a traveler to leave my luggage; so then they seized me, and + sent us both down here. (With sudden and short-lived fury) that old + hell-hound at the Lodge asked them where I was booked for. “For the whole + journey,” said a sepulchral voice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, + the silent grave.' + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding this stern decree, Suaby expects to turn him out cured in + a few months. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Wieland, a very pretty girl, put her arm in mine, and drew me + mysteriously apart. 'So you are collecting the villainies,' said she, + sotto voce. 'It will take you all your time. I'll tell you mine. There's a + hideous old man wants me to marry him; and I won't. And he has put me in + here, and keeps me prisoner till I will. They are all on his side, + especially that sanctified old guy, Suaby. They drug my wine, they stupefy + me, they give me things to make me naughty and tipsy; but it is no use; I + never will marry that old goat—that for his money and him—I'll + die first.' + </p> + <p> + “Of course my blood boiled; but I asked my nurse, Sally, and she assured + me there was not one atom of truth in any part of the story. 'The young + lady was put in here by her mother; none too soon, neither.' I asked her + what she meant. 'Why, she came here with her throat cut, and strapping on + it. She is a suicidal.'” + </p> + <p> + This correspondence led eventually to some unexpected results; but I am + obliged to interrupt it for a time, while I deal with a distinct series of + events which began about five weeks after Lady Bassett's visit to Mr. + Rolfe, and will carry the reader forward beyond the date we have now + arrived at. + </p> + <p> + It was the little dining-room at Highmore; a low room, of modest size, + plainly furnished. An enormous fire-place, paved with plain tiles, on + which were placed iron dogs; only wood and roots were burned in this room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett had just been packed off to bed by marital authority; Bassett + and Wheeler sat smoking pipes and sipping whisky-and-water. Bassett + professed to like the smell of peat smoke in whisky; what he really liked + was the price. + </p> + <p> + After a few silent whiffs, said Bassett, “I didn't think they would take + it so quietly; did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I really did not. But, after all, what can they do? They are + evidently afraid to go to the Court of Chancery, and ask for a jury in the + asylum; and what else can they do?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! They might arrange an escape, and hide him for fourteen days; then + we could not recapture him without fresh certificates; could we?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “And the doors would be too well guarded; not a crack for two doctors to + creep in at.” + </p> + <p> + “You go too fast. <i>You</i> know the law from me, and you are a daring + man that would try this sort of thing; but a timid woman, advised by a + respectable muff like Oldfield! They will never dream of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oldfield is not her head-man. She has got another adviser, and he is the + very man to do something plucky.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know who you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, her lover, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Her lover? Lady Bassett's lover!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, the young parson.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler smiled satirically. “You certainly are a good hater. Nothing is + too bad for those you don't like. If that Lady Bassett is not a true wife, + where will you find one?” + </p> + <p> + “She is the most deceitful jade in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you may sneer. So you have forgotten how she outwitted us. Did the + devil himself ever do a cunninger thing than that? tempting a fellow into + a correspondence that seemed a piece of folly on her part, yet it was a + deep diabolical trick to get at my handwriting. Did <i>you</i> see her + game? No more than I did. You chuckled at her writing letters to the + plaintiff <i>pendente lite.</i> We were both children, setting our wits + against a woman's. I tell you I dread her, especially when I see her so + unnaturally quiet, after what we have done. When you hook a large salmon, + and he makes a great commotion, but all of a sudden lies like a stone, be + on your guard; he means mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wheeler, “this is all very true, but you have strayed from + the point. What makes you think she has an improper attachment?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so very unnatural? He is the handsomest fellow about, she is the + loveliest woman; he is dark, she is fair; and they are thrown together by + circumstances. Another thing: I have always understood that women admire + the qualities they don't possess themselves—strength, for instance. + Now this parson is a Hercules. He took Sir Charles up like a boy and + carried him in his arms all the way from where he had the fit. Lady + Bassett walked beside them. Rely on it, a woman does not see one man carry + another so without making a comparison in favor of the strong, and against + the weak. But what am I talking about? They walk like lovers, those two.” + </p> + <p> + “What, hand in hand? he! he!” + </p> + <p> + “No, side by side; but yet like lovers for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have a good eye.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a good opera-glass.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wheeler smoked in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said he, after a pause, “if this is so, all the better for + you. Don't you see that the lover will never really help her to get the + husband out of confinement? It is not in the nature of things. He may + struggle with his own conscience a bit, being a clergyman, but he won't go + too far; he won't break the law to get Sir Charles home, and so end these + charming duets with his lady-love.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, you are right!” cried Bassett, convinced in his turn. “I say, + old fellow, two heads are better than one. I think we have got the clew, + between us. Yes, by Heaven! it is so; for the carriage used to be out + twice a week, but now she only goes about once in ten days. By-and-by it + will be once a fortnight, then once a month, and the black-eyed rector + will preach patience and resignation. Oh, it was a master-stroke, clapping + him in that asylum! All we have got to do now is to let well alone. When + she is over head and ears in love with Angelo she will come to easy terms + with us, and so I'll move across the way. I shall never be happy till I + live at Huntercombe, and administer the estate.” + </p> + <p> + The maid-servant brought him a note, and said it was from her mistress. + Bassett took it rather contemptuously, and said, “The little woman is + always in a fidget now when you come here. She is all for peace.” He read + the letter. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “DEAREST RICHARD—I implore you to do nothing more to hurt Sir + Charles. It is wicked, and it is useless. God has had pity on Lady + Bassett, and have you pity on her too. Jane has just heard it from one of + the Huntercombe servants.” + </p> + <p> + “What does she mean with her 'its'? Why, surely—Read it, you.” + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other in doubt and amazement for some time. Then + Richard Bassett rushed upstairs, and had a few hasty words with his wife. + </p> + <p> + She told him her news in plainer English, and renewed her mild entreaties. + He turned his back on her in the middle. He went out into the nursery, and + looked at his child. The little fellow, a beautiful boy, slept the placid + sleep of infancy. He leaned over him and kissed him, and went down to the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + His feet came tramp, tramp, very slowly, and when he opened the door Mr. + Wheeler was startled at the change in his appearance. He was pale, and his + countenance fallen. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter?” said Wheeler. + </p> + <p> + “She has done us. Ah, I was wiser than you; I feared her. It is the same + thing over again; a woman against two children. This shows how strong she + is; you can't realize what she has done—even when you see it. An + heir was wanted to those estates. Love cried out for one. Hate cried out + for one. Nature denied one. She has cut the Gordian knot; cut it as boldly + as the lowest woman in Huntercombe would have cut it under such a terrible + temptation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for shame!” + </p> + <p> + “Think, and use your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “My eyes have seen the lady; I think I see her now, kneeling like an angel + over her husband, and pitying him for having knocked me down. I say her + only lover is her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was a long time ago. Time brings changes. You can't take the + eyes out of my head.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose it should be only a false alarm?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that likely? However, I will learn. Whether it is or not, that child + shall never rob mine of Bassett and Huntercombe. Anything is fair against + such a woman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> + <p> + THAT very night, after Wheeler had gone home, Richard Bassett wrote a + cajoling letter to Mary Wells, asking her to meet him at the old place. + </p> + <p> + When the girl got this letter she felt a little faint for a moment; but + she knew the man, his treachery, and his hard egotism and selfishness so + well, that she tossed the letter aside, and resolved to take no notice. + Her trust was all in her mistress, for whom, indeed, she had more real + affection than for any living creature; as for Richard Bassett she + absolutely detested him. + </p> + <p> + As the day wore on she took another view of matters: her deceiver was the + enemy of her mistress; she might do her a service by going to this + rendezvous, might learn something from him, and use it against him. + </p> + <p> + So she went to the rendezvous with a heart full of bitter hate. + </p> + <p> + Bassett, with all his assurance, could not begin his interrogatory all in + a moment. He made a sort of apology, said he felt he had been unkind, and + he had never been happy since he had deserted her. + </p> + <p> + She cut that short. “I have found a better than you,” said she. “I am + going to London very soon—to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean for your sake.” + </p> + <p> + “For my sake? You think as little of me as I do of you. Come, now, what do + you want of me—without a lie, if you <i>can?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and hear your prospects.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have told you.” And she pretended to be going. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be in such a hurry. Tell us the news. Is it true that Lady Bassett + is expected—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is no news.” + </p> + <p> + “It is to me.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't no news in our house. Why, we have known it for months.” + </p> + <p> + This took away the man's breath for a minute. + </p> + <p> + At last he said, with a great deal of intention: + </p> + <p> + “Will it be fair or dark?” + </p> + <p> + “As God pleases.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet you five pounds to one that it is dark.” + </p> + <p> + Mary shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, as if these speculations were + too childish for her. + </p> + <p> + “It's my lady you want to talk about, is it? I thought it was to make me a + wedding present.” + </p> + <p> + He actually put his hand in his pocket and gave her two sovereigns. She + took them with a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + He presumed on this to question her minutely. + </p> + <p> + She submitted to the interrogatory. + </p> + <p> + Only, as the questions were not always delicate, and the answer was + invariably an untruth, it may be as well to pass over the rest of the + dialogue. Suffice it to say that, whenever the girl saw the drift of a + question she lied admirably; and when she did not, still she lied upon + principle: it must be a good thing to deceive the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett was now perplexed, and saw himself in that very position + which had so galled Lady Bassett six weeks or so before. He could not make + any advantageous move, but was obliged to await events. All he could do + was to spy a little on Lady Bassett, and note how often she went to the + asylum. + </p> + <p> + After many days' watching he saw something new. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo was speaking to her with a good deal of warmth, when suddenly + she started from him, and then turned round upon him in a very commanding + attitude, and with prodigious fire. Angelo seemed then to address her very + humbly. But she remained rigid. At last Angelo retired and left her so; + but he was no sooner out of sight than she dropped into a garden seat, + and, taking out her handkerchief, cried a long time. + </p> + <p> + “Why doesn't the fool come back?” said Bassett, from his tower of + observation. + </p> + <p> + He related this incident to Wheeler, and it impressed that worthy more + than all he had ever said before on the same subject. But in a day or two + Wheeler, who was a great gossip, and picked up every thing, came and told + Bassett that the parson was looking out for a curate, and going to leave + his living for a time, on the ground of health. “That is rather against + your theory, Mr. Bassett,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit,” said Bassett. “On the contrary, that is just what these + artful women do who sacrifice virtue but cling all the more to reputation. + I read French novels, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Find 'em instructive?” + </p> + <p> + “Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our writers dare. Her + turning away her lover <i>now</i> is just the act of what the French call + a masterly woman—<i>maitresse femme.</i> She has got rid of him to + close the mouth of scandal; that is her game.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wheeler, “you certainly are very ingenious, and so fortified + in your opinions that with you facts are no longer stubborn things; you + can twist them all your way. If he had stayed and buzzed about her, while + her husband was incarcerated, you would have found her guilty: he goes to + Rome and leaves her, and therefore you find her guilty. You would have + made a fine hanging judge in the good old sanguinary times.” + </p> + <p> + “I use my eyes, my memory, and my reason. She is a monster of vice and + deceit. Anything is fair against such a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear you say that,” said Wheeler, becoming grave rather + suddenly. “A woman is a woman, and I tell you plainly I have gone pretty + well to the end of my tether with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Abandon me, then,” said Bassett, doggedly; “I can go alone.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler was touched by this, and said, “No, no; I am not the man to desert + a friend; but pray do nothing rash—do nothing without consulting + me.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett made no reply. + </p> + <p> + About a week after this, as Lady Bassett was walking sadly in her own + garden, a great Newfoundland dog ran up to her without any warning, and + put his paws almost on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + She screamed violently, and more than once. + </p> + <p> + One or two windows flew open, and among the women who put their heads out + to see what was the matter, Mary Wells was the first. + </p> + <p> + The owner of the dog instantly whistled, and the sportive animal ran to + him; but Lady Bassett was a good deal scared, and went in holding her hand + to her side. Mary Wells hurried to her assistance, and she cried a little + from nervousness when the young woman came earnestly to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mary! he frightened me so. I did not see him coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moss,” said Mary Wells, “here's a villain come and frightened my + lady. Go and shoot his dog, you and your son; and get the grooms, and + fling him in the horse-pond directly.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Lady Bassett, firmly. “You will see that he does not enter the + house, that is all. Should he attempt that, then you will use force for my + protection. Mary, come to my room.” + </p> + <p> + When they were together alone Lady Bassett put both hands on the girl's + shoulders, and made her turn toward her. + </p> + <p> + “I think you love me, Mary?” said she, drinking the girl's eyes with her + own. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that I do, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and why did you incite + those poor men to—It might have led to bloodshed.” + </p> + <p> + “It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “What, don't you see?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I don't want to think so. It might have been an accident. The + poor dog meant no harm; it was his way of fawning, that was all.” + </p> + <p> + “The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is worse than any beast that + ever was born; he is a cruel, cunning, selfish devil; and if I had been a + man he should never have got off alive.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite. I was upstairs, and saw it all.” + </p> + <p> + This was not true; she had seen nothing till her mistress screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Then—anything is fair against such a villain.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me think.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelligent face of hers quite + shone with hard thought. + </p> + <p> + At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I'll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Richard Bassett,” said she, slowly, and + with a strange depth of resolution. + </p> + <p> + Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in close discussion; but + now Lady Bassett took the lead, and revealed to her astonished adviser + extraordinary and astounding qualities. + </p> + <p> + They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous game to play with such + a woman. + </p> + <p> + Mary Wells found herself a child compared with her mistress, now that that + lady was driven to put out all her powers. + </p> + <p> + The conversation lasted about two hours: in that time the whole campaign + was settled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> + <p> + MARY WELLS by order went down, in a loose morning wrapper her mistress had + given her, and dined in the servants' hall. She was welcomed with a sort + of shout, half ironical; and the chief butler said, + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you come back to us, Miss Wells.” + </p> + <p> + “The same to you, sir,” said Mary, with more pertness than logic; “which + I'm only come to take leave, for to-morrow I go to London, on business.” + </p> + <p> + “La! what's the business, I wonder?” inquired a house-maid, + irreverentially. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my business is not your business, Jane. However, if you want to + know, I'm going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “And none too soon,” whispered the kitchen-maid to a footman. + </p> + <p> + “Speak up, my dear,” said Mary. “There's nothing more vulgarer than + whispering in company.” + </p> + <p> + “I said, 'What will Bill Drake say to that?'” + </p> + <p> + “Bill Drake will say he was a goose not to make up his mind quicker. This + will learn him beauty won't wait for no man. If he cries when I am gone, + you lend him your apron to wipe his eyes, and tell him women can't abide + shilly-shallying men.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a hexcellent sentiment,” said John the footman, “and a solemn + warning it is—” + </p> + <p> + “To all such as footmen be,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “We writes it in the fly-leaf of our Bibles accordingly,” said John. + </p> + <p> + “No, my man, write it somewhere where you'll have a chance to read it.” + </p> + <p> + This caused a laugh; and when it was over, the butler, who did not feel + strong enough to chaff a lady of this caliber, inquired obsequiously + whether he might venture to ask who was the happy stranger to carry off + such a prize. + </p> + <p> + “A civil question deserves a civil answer, Mr. Wright,” said Mary. “It is + a sea-faring man, the mate of a ship. He have known me a few years longer + than any man in these parts. Whenever he comes home from a voyage he tells + me what he has made, and asks me to marry him. I have said 'No' so many + times I'm sick and tired; so I have said 'Yes' for once in a way. Changes + are lightsome, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Thus airily did Mary Wells communicate her prospects, and next morning + early was driven to the station; a cart had gone before with her luggage, + which tormented the female servants terribly; for, instead of the droll + little servant's box, covered with paper, she had a large lady's box, + filled with linen and clothes by the liberality of Lady Bassett, and a + covered basket, and an old carpet-bag, with some minor packages of an + unintelligible character. Nor did she make any secret that she had money + in both pockets; indeed, she flaunted some notes before the groom, and + told him none but her lady knew all she had done for Sir Charles. “But,” + said she, “he is grateful, you see, and so is she.” + </p> + <p> + She went off in the train, as gay as a lark; but she was no sooner out of + sight than her face changed its whole expression, and she went up to + London very grave and thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + The traveling carriage was ordered at ten o'clock next day, and packed as + for a journey. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett took her housekeeper with her to the asylum. + </p> + <p> + She had an interview with Sir Charles, and told him what Mr. Bassett had + done, and the construction Mary Wells had put on it. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles turned pale with rage, and said he could no longer play the + patient game. He must bribe a keeper, make his escape, and kill that + villain. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was alarmed, and calmed it down. + </p> + <p> + “It was only a servant's construction, and she might be wrong; but it + frightened me terribly; and I fear it is the beginning of a series of + annoyances and encroachments; and I have lost Mr. Angelo; he has gone to + Italy. Even Mary Wells left me this morning to be married. I think I know + a way to turn all this against Mr. Bassett; but I will not say it, because + I want to hear what you advise, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles did not leave her long in doubt. He said, “There is but one + way; you must leave Huntercombe, and put yourself out of that miscreant's + way until our child is born.” + </p> + <p> + “That would not grieve me,” said Lady Bassett. “The place is odious to me, + now you are not there. But what would censorious people say?” + </p> + <p> + “What could they say, except that you obeyed your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a command, then, dearest?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a command; and, although you are free, and I am a prisoner—although + you are still an ornament to society, and I pass for an outcast, still I + expect you to obey me when I assume a husband's authority. I have not + taken the command of you quite so much as you used to say I must; but on + this occasion I do. You will leave Huntercombe, and avoid that caitiff + until our child is born.” + </p> + <p> + “That ends all discussion,” said Lady Bassett. “Oh, Charles, my only + regret is that it costs me nothing to obey you. But when did it ever? My + king!” + </p> + <p> + He had ordered her to do the very thing she wished to do. + </p> + <p> + She now gave her housekeeper minute instructions, settled the board wages + of the whole establishment, and sent her home in the carriage, retaining + her own boxes and packages at the inn. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett soon found out that Lady Bassett had left Huntercombe. He + called on Wheeler and told him. Wheeler suggested she had gone to be near + her husband. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bassett, “she has joined her lover. I wonder at our simplicity + in believing that fellow was gone to Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “This is rich,” said Wheeler. “A week ago she was guilty, and a Machiavel + in petticoats; for why? she had quarreled with her Angelo, and packed him + off to Italy. Now she is guilty; and why? because he is not gone to Italy—not + that you know whether he is or not. You reason like a mule. As for me, I + believe none of this nonsense—till you find them together.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is just what I mean to do.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see.” + </p> + <p> + Very soon after this a country gentleman met Wheeler on market-day, and + drew him aside to ask him a question. “Do you advise Mr. Richard Bassett + still?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you set him to trespass on Lady Bassett's lawn, and frighten her with + a great dog in the present state of her health?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid! This is the first I've heard of such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you say that, Tom Wheeler. There, read that. Your + client deserves to be flogged out of the county, sir.” And he pulled a + printed paper out of his pocket. It was dated from the Royal Hotel, Bath, + and had been printed with blanks, as follows; but a lady's hand had filled + in the dates. + </p> + <p> + “On the day —— of ——, while I was walking alone in + my garden, Mr. Richard Bassett, the person who has bereaved me by violence + of my protector, came, without leave, into my private grounds, and brought + a very large dog; it ran to me, and frightened me so that I nearly fainted + with alarm. Mr. Bassett was aware of my condition. Next day I consulted my + husband, and he ordered me to leave Huntercombe Hall, and put myself + beyond the reach of trespassers and outrage. + </p> + <p> + “One motive has governed Mr. Bassett in all his acts, from his anonymous + letter to me before my marriage—which I keep for your inspection, + together with the proofs that he wrote it—to the barbarous seizure + of my husband upon certificates purchased beforehand, and this last act of + violence, which has driven me from the county for a time. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles and I have often been your hosts and your guests; we now ask + you to watch our property and our legal rights, so long as through + injustice and cruelty my husband is a prisoner, his wife a fugitive.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said the gentleman, “these papers are going all round the + county.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler was most indignant, and said he had never been consulted, and had + never advised a trespass. He begged a loan of the paper, and took it to + Bassett's that very same afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “So you have been acting without advice,” said he, angrily; “and a fine + mess you have made of it.” And, though not much given to violent anger, he + dashed the paper down on the table, and hurt his hand a little. Anger must + be paid for, like other luxuries. + </p> + <p> + Bassett read it, and was staggered a moment; but he soon recovered + himself, and said, “What is the foolish woman talking about?” + </p> + <p> + He then took a sheet of paper, and said he would soon give her a Roland + for an Oliver. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Wheeler, grimly, “let us see how you will put down <i>the + foolish woman.</i> I'll smoke a cigar in the garden, and recover my + temper.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett's retort ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and if I put restraint upon + Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. Experienced physicians + represented him homicidal and suicidal; and I protected both Lady Bassett + and himself by the act she has interpreted so harshly. + </p> + <p> + “As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle as a lamb. I + did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor that the poor dog would + run and welcome her. She is playing a comedy: the real truth is, a + gentleman had left Huntercombe whose company is necessary to her. She has + gone to join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon + </p> + <p> + “RICHARD BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + When he had written this Bassett ordered his dog-cart. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last suggestion in it was a + libel, and an indictable one into the bargain. + </p> + <p> + “What, if it is true—true to the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Even then you would not be safe, unless you could prove it by + disinterested witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut this sentence out. Excuse me one + minute, I must put a few things in my carpetbag.” + </p> + <p> + “What! going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Better give me your address, then, in case anything turns up.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were as sharp as you pass for you would know my address—Royal + Hotel, Bath, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes with his carpet-bag + and wraps. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose chase?” asked Wheeler. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Richard. “I'm not such a fool. Catch me losing twelve hours. In + that twelve hours they would shift their quarters. It is always so when a + fool delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath.” + </p> + <p> + The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he rattled off to the + railway. + </p> + <p> + He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 A.M., took a warm bath + instead of bed, and then ordered breakfast; asked to see the visitors' + book, and wrote a false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, saw + Lady Bassett's name. + </p> + <p> + But he could not find Mr. Angelo's name in the book. + </p> + <p> + He got hold of Boots, and feed him liberally, then asked him if there was + a handsome young parson there—very dark. + </p> + <p> + Boots could not say there was. + </p> + <p> + Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at another hotel, or perhaps + in lodgings, out of prudence. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Bassett here still?” said he. + </p> + <p> + Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. Did inquire, and + brought him word Lady Bassett had left for London yesterday morning. + </p> + <p> + Bassett ground his teeth with vexation. + </p> + <p> + No train to London for an hour and a half. He took a stroll through the + town to fill up the time. + </p> + <p> + How often, when a man abandons or remits his search for a time, Fate sends + in his way the very thing he is after, but has given up hunting just then! + As he walked along the north side of a certain street, what should he see + but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eyebrows of Mr. Angelo, + shining from afar. + </p> + <p> + That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps of a small hotel. + </p> + <p> + Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen. Looking round he saw he was at + the door of a respectable house that let apartments. He hurried in, + examined the drawing-room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, and + sent to the Royal for his bag. + </p> + <p> + He installed himself near the window, to await one of two things, and act + accordingly. If Angelo left the place he should go by the same train, and + so catch the parties together; if the lady doubled back to Bath, or had + only pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, by diligent watch + and careful following. + </p> + <p> + He wrote to Wheeler to announce this first step toward success. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> + <p> + SOME days after this Mr. Rolfe received a line from Lady Bassett, to say + she was at the Adelphi Hotel, in John Street. He put some letters into his + pocket and called on her directly. + </p> + <p> + She received him warmly, and told him, more fully than she had by letter, + how she had acted on his advice; then she told him of Richard Bassett's + last act, and showed him her retort. + </p> + <p> + He knitted his brows at first over it; but said he thought her + proclamation could do no harm. + </p> + <p> + “As a rule,” said he, “I object to flicking with a lady's whip when I am + going to crush, but—yes—it is able, and gives you a good + excuse for keeping out of the way of annoyances till we strike the blow. + And now I have something to consult you upon. May I read you some extracts + from your husband's letters to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive a novelist; but this is a new situation, reading a husband's + letters to his wife. However, I have a motive, and so I had in soliciting + the correspondence with Sir Charles.” He then read her the letters that + are already before the reader, and also the following extracts: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Johnson, a broken tradesman, has some imagination, though not of a + poetic kind; he is imbued with trade, and, in the daytime, exercises + several, especially a butcher's. When he sees any of us coming, he whips + before the nearest door or gate, and sells meat. He sells it very cheap; + the reason is, his friends allow him only a shilling or two in coppers, + and as every madman is the center of the universe, he thinks that the + prices of all commodities are regulated by the amount of specie in his + pocket. This is his style, 'Come, buy, buy, choice mutton three farthings + the carcass. Retail shop next door, ma'am. Jack, serve the lady. Bill, + tell him he can send me home those twenty bullocks, at three half-pence + each—' and so on. But at night he subsides into an auctioneer, and, + with knocking down lots while others are conversing, gets removed + occasionally to a padded room. Sometimes we humor him, and he sells us the + furniture after a spirited competition, and debits the amounts, for cash + is not abundant here. The other night, heated with business, he went on + from the articles of furniture to the company, and put us all up in + succession. + </p> + <p> + “Having a good many dislikes, he sometimes forgot the auctioneer in the + man, and depreciated some lots so severely that they had to be passed; but + he set Miss Wieland in a chair, and descanted on her beauty, good temper, + and other gifts, in terms florid enough for Robins, or any other poet. + Sold for eighteen pounds, and to a lady. This lady had formed a violent + attachment to Miss W.; so next week they will be at daggers drawn. My turn + came, and the auctioneer did me the honor to describe me as 'the lot of + the evening.' He told the bidders to mind what they were about, they might + never again be able to secure a live baronet at a moderate price, owing to + the tightness of the money market. Well, sir, I was honored with bids from + several ladies; but they were too timid and too honest to go beyond their + means; my less scrupulous sex soared above these considerations, and I was + knocked down for seventy-nine pounds fifteen shillings, amid loud applause + at the spirited result. My purchaser is a shop-keeper mad after gardening. + Dr. Suaby has given him a plot to cultivate, and he whispered in my ear, + 'The reason I went to a fancy price was, I can kill two birds with one + stone with you. You'll make a very good statee stuck up among my flowers; + and you can hallo, and keep those plaguy sparrows off.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what creatures for my darling to live among!” cried Lady Bassett + piteously. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe stared, and said, “What, then, you are like all your sex—no + sense of humor?” + </p> + <p> + “Humor! when my husband is in misery and degradation!” + </p> + <p> + “And don't you see that the brave writer of these letters is steeled + against misery, and above degradation? Such men are not the mere sport of + circumstances. Your husband carries a soul not to be quelled by three + months in a well-ordered mad-house. But I will read no more, since what + gives me satisfaction gives you pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, yes! Don't let me lose a word my husband has ever uttered.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll go on; but I'm horribly discouraged.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry for that sir. Please forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe read the letter next in date— + </p> + <p> + “We are honored with one relic of antiquity, a Pythagorean. He has obliged + me with his biography. He was, to use his own words, engendered by the sun + shining on a dunghill at his father's door,' and began his career as a + flea; but his identity was, somehow, shifted to a boy of nine years old. + He has had a long spell of humanity, and awaits the great change—which + is to turn him to a bee. It will not find him unprepared; he has long + practiced humming, in anticipation. A faithful friend, called Caffyn, used + to visit him every week. Caffyn died last year, and the poor Pythagorean + was very lonely and sad; but, two months ago, he detected his friend in + the butcher's horse, and is more than consoled, for he says, Caffyn comes + six times a week now, instead of once.'” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” said Lady Bassett. “What a strange world for him to be living + in. It seems like a dream.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something stranger coming in this last letter.” + </p> + <p> + “I have at last found one madman allied to Genius. It has taken me a + fortnight to master his delusion, and to write down the vocabulary he has + invented to describe the strange monster of his imagination. All the words + I write in italics are his own. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed for malignant + purposes, which machine is an <i>air-loom.</i> It rivals the human machine + in this, that it can operate either on mind or matter. It was invented, + and is worked, by a gang of villains superlatively skillful in <i>pneumatic + chemistry, physiology, nervous influence, sympathy,</i> and the <i>higher + metaphysic,</i> men far beyond the immature science of the present era, + which, indeed, is a favorite subject of their ridicule. + </p> + <p> + “The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only seen the four + highest: <i>Bill, the King,</i> a master of the art of <i>magnetic + impregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster,</i> the short-hand writer of the + gang; <i>Sir Archy,</i> Chief Liar to the Association; and the <i>glove-woman,</i> + so called from her always wearing cotton mittens. This personage has never + been known to speak to any one. + </p> + <p> + “The materials used in the air-loom by these <i>pneumatic adepts</i> are + infinite; but principally <i>effluvia of certain metals, poisons, + soporific scents,</i> etc. + </p> + <p> + “The principal effects are: + </p> + <p> + “1st. EVENT-WORKING.—This is done by <i>magnetic manipulation</i> of + kings, emperors, prime ministers, and others; so that, while the world is + fearing and admiring them, they are, in reality, mere puppets played by + the workers of the air-loom. + </p> + <p> + “2d. CUTTING SOUL FROM SENSE.—This is done <i>by diffusing the + magnetic warp from the root of the nose under the base of the skull, till + it forms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can have no + communication with the operations of the intellect.</i> + </p> + <p> + “3d. KITING.—As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air-loom can + lift an idea into the brain, where it floats and undulates for hours + together. The victim cannot get rid of an idea so insinuated. + </p> + <p> + “4th. LOBSTER-CRACKING.—An external pressure of the magnetic + atmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams has been so operated + on, and says he felt as if he was grasped by an enormous pair of + nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected to a piercing pressure, which he + still remembers with horror. Death sometimes results from + Lobster-cracking. + </p> + <p> + “5th. LENGTHENING THE BRAIN.—<i>As the cylindrical mirror lengthens + the countenance,</i> so these assailants find means to <i>elon</i>gate the + brain. This distorts the ideas, and subjects the most serious are made + silly and ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + “6th. THOUGHT-MAKING.—While one of these villains sucks at the brain + of the assailed, and extracts his existing sentiments, another will press + into the vacuum ideas very different from his real thoughts. Thus his mind + is physically enslaved.” + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles goes on to say: + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I thought I would try + and reason him out of his delusion. I asked if he had ever seen this gang + and their machine. + </p> + <p> + “He said yes, they operated on him this morning. 'Then show them me,' said + I. 'Young man,' said he, satirically, 'do you think these assassins, and + their diabolical machine, would be allowed to go on, if they could be laid + hands on so easily? The gang are fertile in disguise; the machine operates + at considerable distances.' + </p> + <p> + “To drive him into a corner, I said, 'Will you give me a drawing of it?' + He seemed to hesitate, so I said, 'If you can not draw it, you never saw + it, and never will.' He assented to that, and I was vain enough to think I + had staggered him; but yesterday he produced the inclosed sketch and + explanation. After this I sadly fear he is incurable. + </p> + <p> + “There are three sane patients in this asylum, besides myself. I will tell + you their stories when you come here, which I hope will be soon; for the + time agreed on draws near, and my patience and self-control are sorely + tried, as day after day rolls by, and sees me still in a madhouse.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Lady Bassett,” said Mr. Rolfe. “And now for my motive in reading + these letters. Sir Charles may still have a crotchet, an inordinate desire + for an heir; but, even if he has, the writer of these letters has nothing + to fear from any jury; and, therefore, I am now ready to act. I propose to + go down to the asylum to-morrow, and get him out as quickly as I can.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then she turned suddenly pale, + and her countenance fell. She said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last meeting, she was + writhing at her inaction. He began to puzzle himself. She watched him + keenly. He thought to himself, “Perhaps she dreads the excitement of + meeting—for herself.” + </p> + <p> + At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would take to liberate Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite a week, if Richard Bassett is well advised. If he fights + desperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the work an + hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mix the + two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don't like to + say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and write to Dr. Suaby + that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get a line from you to + go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do the work.” + </p> + <p> + This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thanked him. + </p> + <p> + “You need not waste words over it,” said he. “Write one word, 'ACT!' That + will be the shortest letter you ever wrote.” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the conversation is not worth recording. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, and + waited. + </p> + <p> + But day after day went by, and the order never came to act. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he could + have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But he + rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. He had + known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both husband + and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the delay. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time. + </p> + <p> + At last a letter came from Gloucester Place. + </p> + <p> + “Will my kind friend now ACT? + </p> + <p> + “Gratefully, + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for + Bellevue House. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea + with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had + left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of undoubted + skill, was making his way very slowly in London. + </p> + <p> + The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of title + in Gloucester Place, hard by. + </p> + <p> + “I will come,” said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as soon + as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each other. + </p> + <p> + “Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was + opened by the charwoman. + </p> + <p> + He asked her with some doubt if that was the house. + </p> + <p> + The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was from + the country, and was looking out for some servants. + </p> + <p> + This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, over the + balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's saying it was, + begged him to step upstairs at once. + </p> + <p> + He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was all + discretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, she + would do anything for her dear mistress. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who could obey + orders, was as good as a number, or better. + </p> + <p> + He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at once + that the patient was in labor. + </p> + <p> + He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> + <p> + ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, and dine + with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments. + </p> + <p> + The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam—a meek, + sorrowful patient—an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents. + </p> + <p> + “So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “The humors of the place, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected me along + with the rest?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His pen failed + at you. 'You must come and <i>see</i> the doctor,' he said. So here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the doctor, “if your wit and his are both to be leveled at me, + I had better stop your mouths. Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, will you take + Miss Wieland? Sorry we have not another lady to keep you company, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you? Then I'm not,” said the lady smartly. + </p> + <p> + The dinner passed like any other, only Rolfe observed that Dr. Suaby took + every fair opportunity of drawing the pluckless Mr. Hyam into + conversation, and that he coldly ignored the Exquisite. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen that young man about town, I think,” said Mr. Rolfe. “Where + was it, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “The Argyll Rooms, or the Casino, probably.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, doctor. Oh, I forgot; you owed me one. He is no favorite of + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally.” + </p> + <p> + “Medicinally? That's too deep for a layman.” + </p> + <p> + “To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good.” + </p> + <p> + “Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; but you know very + little, begging your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the theory of compensation. When you know very little about a + thing you must talk a great deal about it. Well, I'm here for instruction; + thirsting for it.” + </p> + <p> + “All the better; we'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.” + </p> + <p> + “All right: but not of your favorite Acetate of Morphia; because that is + the draught that takes the reason prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has taught me that all + sedatives excite; if they soothe at first, they excite next day. My + antidotes to mental excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and, best of + all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows it. To put it + shortly—prolonged bodily excitement antidotes mental excitement.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take a note of that. It is the wisest thing I ever heard from any + learned physician.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are a little prejudiced + against the faculty.” + </p> + <p> + “Only in their business. They are delightful out of that. But, come now, + nobody hears us—confess, the system which prescribes drugs, drugs, + drugs at every visit and in every case, and does not give a severe + selection of esculents the first place, but only the second or third, must + be rotten at the core. Don't you despise a layman's eye. All the + professions want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are a writer; publish a book, call it Medicina laici, and send + me a copy.” + </p> + <p> + “To slash in the <i>Lancet?</i> Well, I will: when novels cease to pay and + truth begins to.” + </p> + <p> + In the course of the evening Mr. Rolfe drew Dr. Suaby apart, and said, “I + must tell you frankly, I mean to relieve you of one of your inmates.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one? I was in hopes you would relieve me of all the sane people. + They say you are ingenious at it. All I know is, I can't get rid of an + inmate if the person who signed the order resists. Now, for instance, + here's a Mrs. Hallam came here unsound: religious delusion. Has been cured + two months. I have reported her so to her son-in-law, who signed the + order; but he will not discharge her. He is vicious, she scriptural; bores + him about eternity. Then I wrote to the Commissioners in Lunacy; but they + don't like to strain their powers, so they wrote to the affectionate + son-in-law, and he politely declines to act. Sir Charles Bassett the same: + three weeks ago I reported him cured, and the detaining relative has not + even replied to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Got a copy of your letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. But what if I tell you there is a gentleman here who never had + any business to come, yet he is as much a fixture as the grates. I took + him blindfold along with the house. I signed a deed, and it is so + stringent I can't evade one of my predecessor's engagements. This old + rogue committed himself to my predecessor's care, under medical + certificates; the order he signed himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Illegal, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but where's the remedy? The person who signed the order must + rescind it. But this sham lunatic won't rescind it. Altogether the + tenacity of an asylum is prodigious. The statutes are written with + bird-lime. Twenty years ago that old Skinflint found the rates and taxes + intolerable; and doesn't everybody find them intolerable? To avoid these + rates and taxes he shut up his house, captured himself, and took himself + here; and here he will end his days, excluding some genuine patient, + unless <i>you</i> sweep him into the street for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sindbad, I will try,” said Rolfe, solemnly; “but I must begin with Sir + Charles Bassett. By-the-by, about his crotchet?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has still an extravagant desire for children. But the cerebral + derangement is cured, and the other, standing by itself, is a foible, not + a mania. It is only a natural desire in excess. If they brought me Rachel + merely because she had said, 'Give me children, or I die,' and I found her + a healthy woman in other respects, I should object to receive her on that + score alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You are deadly particular—compared with some of them,” said Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + That evening he made an appointment with Sir Charles, and visited him in + his room at 8 A. M. He told him he had seen Lady Bassett in London, and, + of course, he had to answer many questions. He then told him he came + expressly to effect his liberation. + </p> + <p> + “I am grateful to you, sir,” said Sir Charles, with a suppressed and manly + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Here are my instructions from Lady Bassett; short, but to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “May I keep that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles kissed his wife's line, and put the note in his breast. + </p> + <p> + “The first step,” said Rolfe, “is to cut you in two. That is soon done. + You must copy in your own hand, and then sign, this writing.” And he + handed him a paper. + </p> + <p> + “I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct James Sharpe, of + Gray's Inn, my Solicitor, to sue the person who signed the order for my + incarceration—in the Court of Common Pleas; and to take such other + steps for my relief as may be advised by my counsel—Mr. Francis + Rolfe.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said Sir Charles, “if I make one objection. Mr. Oldfield has + been my solicitor for many years. I fear it will hurt his feelings if I + intrust the matter to a stranger. Would there be any objection to my + inserting Mr. Oldfield's name, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Only this: he would think he knew better than I do; and then I, who know + better than he does, and am very vain and arrogant, should throw up the + case in a passion, and go back to my MS.; and humdrum Oldfield would go to + Equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall on your estate instead + of on your enemy; and you would be here eighteen months instead of eight + or ten days. No, Sir Charles, you can't mix champagne and ditch-water; you + can't make Invention row in a boat with Antique Twaddle, and you mustn't + ask me to fight your battle with a blunt knife, when I have got a sharp + knife that fits my hand.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe said this with more irritation than was justified, and revealed + one of the great defects in his character. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled, and said, “I withdraw a proposal which + I see annoys you.” He then signed the paper. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, “Now you are cut in + two. One you is here; but Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you works out + of the asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference. Compare + notes with those who have tried the other way. Yet, simple and obvious as + this is, would you believe it, I alone have discovered this method; I + alone practice it.” + </p> + <p> + He sent his secretary off to London at once, and returned to Sir Charles. + “The authority will be with Sharpe at 2:30. He will be at Whitehall 3:15, + and examine the order. He will take the writ out at once, and if Richard + Bassett is the man, he will serve it on him to-morrow in good time, and + send one of your grooms over here on horseback with the news. We serve the + writ personally, because we have shufflers to deal with, and I will not + give them a chance. Now I must go and write a lie or two for the public; + and then inspect the asylum with Suaby. Before post-time I will write to a + friend of mine who is a Commissioner of Lunacy, one of the strong-minded + ones. We may as well have two strings to our bow.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles thanked him gracefully, and said, “It is a rare thing, in this + selfish world, to see one man interest himself in the wrongs of another, + as you are good enough to do in mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Rolfe, “all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. My business + is Lying; and I drudge at it. So to escape now and then to the play-ground + of Truth and Justice is a great amusement and recreation to poor me. + Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into Mendacity; and that's + the thing that pays.” + </p> + <p> + With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled away. + </p> + <p> + Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this vein of incident, + I jump to what occurred toward evening. + </p> + <p> + Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. Suaby that a man had + walked all the way from Huntercombe to see Sir Charles Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” said Dr. Suaby; “I should like to see him. Would you mind + receiving him here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no.” + </p> + <p> + “On second thoughts, James, you had better light a candle in the next room—in + case.” + </p> + <p> + A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of Moses Moss entered the + room. Being bareheaded, he saluted the company by pulling his head, and it + bobbed. He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soon + distinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance beamed with simple + and affectionate satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “How d'ye do, Moss?” said Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in my mind. There be a + trifle too many rogues afoot to please me. However, I told my mistress + this morning, says I, 'Before I puts up with this here any longer, I must + go over there and see him; for here's so many lies a-cutting about,' says + I, 'I'm fairly mazed.' So, if you please, Sir Charles, will you be so good + as to tell me out of your own mouth, and then I shall know: be you crazy + or hain't you—ay or no?” + </p> + <p> + Suaby and Rolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; but Sir Charles said, + gravely, he was not crazy. “Do I look crazy, Moss?” + </p> + <p> + “That ye doan't; you look twice the man you did. Why, your cheeks did use + to be so pasty like; now you've got a color—but mayhap” (casting an + eye on the decanters) “ye're flustered a bit wi' drink.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Rolfe, “we have not commenced our nightly debauch yet; only + just done dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there goes another. This will be good news to home. Dall'd if I + would not ha' come them there thirty miles on all-fours for't. But, sir, + if so be you are not crazy, please think about coming home, for things + ain't as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away for her + groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard Bassett; and him and + his lawyer they have put it about as you are dead in law; that is the + word: and so the servants they don't know what to think; and the village + folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on 'em in jail: and Joe and + I, we wants to fight un, but my dame she is timorous, and won't let us, + because of the laayer. And th' upshot is, this here Richard Bassett is + master after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, and brings men with a + pole measure, and uses the place as his'n mostly; but our Joe bides in the + Hall with his gun, and swears he'll shoot him if he sets foot in the + house. Joe says he have my lady's leave and license so to do, but not + outside.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with indignation. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, “Control yourself, sir.'” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to control <i>myself,”</i> cried Rolfe, in a rage. “Don't + you take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall not last long.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Suaby, can you lend me a gig or a dog-cart, with a good horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have got a WONDERFUL roadster, half Irish, half Norman.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mr. Moss, to-morrow you and I go to Huntercombe: you shall show me + this Bassett, and we will give him a pill.” + </p> + <p> + “Meantime,” said Dr. Suaby, “I take a leaf out of your Medicina laici, and + prescribe a hearty supper, a quart of ale, and a comfortable bed to Mr. + Moss. James, see him well taken care of. Poor man!” said he, when Moss had + retired. “What simplicity! what good sense! what ignorance of the world! + what feudality, if I may be allowed the expression.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was manifestly discomposed, and retired to bed early. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe drove off with Moss at eight o'clock, and was not seen again all + day. Indeed, Sir Charles was just leaving Dr. Suaby's room when he came in + rather tired, and would not say a word till they gave him a cup of tea: + then he brightened up and told his story. + </p> + <p> + “We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff did not come nor send by + the first train. His clerk arrived by the second. We went to Huntercombe + village together, and on the road I gave him some special instructions. + Richard Bassett not at home. We used a little bad language and threw out a + skirmisher—Moss, to wit—to find him. Moss discovered him on + your lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flower beds, with Wheeler + looking over the boundary wall. + </p> + <p> + “We went up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. He took + it quite coolly; but when he saw at whose suit it was he turned pale. He + recovered himself directly, though, and burst out laughing. 'Suit of Sir + Charles Bassett. Why, he can't sue: he is civiliter mortuus: mad as a + March hare: in confinement.' Clerk told him he was mistaken; Sir Charles + was perfectly sane. 'Good-day, sir.' So then Bassett asked him to wait a + little. He took the writ away, and showed it Wheeler, no doubt. He came + back, and blustered, and said, 'Some other person has instructed you: you + will get yourself into trouble, I fear.' The little clerk told him not to + alarm himself; Mr. Sharpe was instructed by Sir Charles Bassett, in his + own handwriting and signature, and said, 'It is not my business to argue + the case with you. You had better take the advice of counsel.' 'Thank + you,' said Bassett; 'that would be wasting a guinea.' 'A good many + thousand guineas have been lost by that sort of economy,' says the little + clerk, solemnly. Oh, and he told him Mr. Sharpe was instructed to indict + him for a trespass if he ever came there again; and handed him a written + paper to that effect, which we two had drawn up at the station; and so + left him to his reflections. We went into the house, and called the + servants together, and told them to keep the rooms warm and the beds + aired, since you might return any day.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this news Sir Charles showed no premature or undignified triumph, but + some natural complacency, and a good deal of gratitude. + </p> + <p> + The next day was blank of events, but the next after Mr. Rolfe received a + letter containing a note addressed to Sir Charles Bassett. Mr. Rolfe sent + it to him. + </p> + <p> + SIR—I am desired to inform you that I attended Lady Bassett last + night, when she was safely delivered of a son. Have seen her again this + morning. Mother and child are doing remarkably well. + </p> + <p> + “W. BODDINGTON, Surgeon, 17 Upper Gloucester Place.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles cried, “Thank God! thank God!” He held out the paper to Mr. + Rolfe, and sat down, overpowered by tender emotions. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe devoured the surgeon's letter at one glance, shook the baronet's + hand eloquently, and went away softly, leaving him with his happiness. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, however, began now to pine for liberty; he longed so to join + his wife and see his child, and Rolfe, observing this, chafed with + impatience. He had calculated on Bassett, advised by Wheeler, taking the + wisest course, and discharging him on the spot. He had also hoped to hear + from the Commissioner of Lunacy. But neither event took place. + </p> + <p> + They could have cut the Gordian knot by organizing an escape: Giles and + others were to be bought to that: but Dr. Suaby's whole conduct had been + so kind, generous, and confiding, that this was out of the question. + Indeed, Sir Charles had for the last month been there upon parole. + </p> + <p> + Yet the thing had been wisely planned, as will appear when I come to + notice the advice counsel had given to Bassett in this emergency. But + Bassett would not take advice: he went by his own head, and prepared a new + and terrible blow, which Mr. Rolfe did not foresee. + </p> + <p> + But meantime an unlooked-for and accidental assistant came into the + asylum, without the least idea Sir Charles was there. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Marsh, early in her married life, converted her husband to religion, + and took him about the county preaching. She was in earnest, and had a + vein of natural eloquence that really went straight to people's bosoms. + She was certainly a Christian, though an eccentric one. Temper being the + last thing to yield to Gospel light, she still got into rages; but now she + was very humble and penitent after them. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, after going about doing good, she decided to settle down and + do good. As for Marsh, he had only to obey. Judge for yourself: the mild, + gray-haired vicar of Calverly, who now leaned on la Marsh as on a staff, + thought it right at the beginning to ascertain that she was not opposing + her husband's views. He put a query of this kind as delicately as + possible. + </p> + <p> + “My husband!” cried she. “If he refused to go to heaven with me, I'd take + him there by the ear.” And her eye flashed with the threat. + </p> + <p> + Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Vandeleur was ruined, and in Dr. + Suaby's asylum, not ten miles from her country-seat. This intelligence + touched her. She contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly and + spiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and she felt bound to + see if nothing could be done for the poor wretch. A timid Christian would + have sent some man to do the good work; but this was a lion-like one. So + she mounted her horse, and taking only her groom with her, was at Bellevue + in no time. + </p> + <p> + She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, sent in her card, + and was received at once. + </p> + <p> + “You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madam.—James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, and + send Mr. Vandeleur to her.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not violent, is he?” said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate when + she saw there was no opposition. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, madam—the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money + about you, it might be as well to confide it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, will he rob me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you out + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that, sir.” And she followed James. + </p> + <p> + He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the window, + and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, reading or + working in the sun. + </p> + <p> + “Poor things!” she thought; “they are not so very miserable: perhaps God + comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching would do + them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let me; they lean + on the arm of flesh.” + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and in + came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning smile + he had put on for conquest. + </p> + <p> + He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded. + </p> + <p> + At last he burst out, “Somer—Was it me you wished to see?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she, very kindly. “I came to see you for old acquaintance. You + must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married.” + </p> + <p> + By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chair with + ingratiating zeal. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down by me,” said she, as if she was petting a child. “Are you sure + you remember me?” + </p> + <p> + Says the Courtier, “Who could forget you that had ever had the honor—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. “I did not come here for folly,” + said she. Then, rather naively, “I begin to doubt your being so very mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad? No, of course I am not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what brings you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Stumped.” + </p> + <p> + “What, have I mistaken the house? Is it a jail?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I'll tell you. You see I was dipped pretty deep, and duns after + me, and the Derby my only chance; so I put the pot on. But a dark horse + won: the Jews knew I was done: so now it was a race which should take me. + Sloman had seven writs out: I was in a corner. I got a friend that knows + every move to sign me into this asylum. They thought it was all up then, + and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound.” + </p> + <p> + Before he could complete this autobiographical sketch Mrs. Marsh started + up in a fury, and brought her whip down on the table with a smartish cut. + </p> + <p> + “You little heartless villain!” she screamed. “Is this, the way you play + upon people: bringing me from my home to console a maniac, and, instead of + that, you are only what you always were, a spendthrift and a scamp? Finely + they will laugh at me.” + </p> + <p> + She clutched the whip in her white but powerful hand till it quivered in + the air, impatient for a victim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried, panting, and struggling with her passion, “if I wasn't a + child of God, I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “You'd give me a devilish good hiding,” said Vandeleur, demurely. + </p> + <p> + “That I <i>would,”</i> said she, very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “You forget that I never told you I was mad. How could I imagine you would + hear it? How could I dream you would come, even if you did?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be no Christian if I didn't come.” + </p> + <p> + “But I mean we parted bad friends, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse you sent me a new + sidesaddle. A woman does not forget those little things. You were a + gentleman, though a child of Belial.” + </p> + <p> + Vandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to say, “In both those + matters you are the highest authority earth contains.” + </p> + <p> + “So come,” said she, “here is plenty of writing-paper. Now tell me all + your debts, and I will put them down.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the use? At a shilling in the pound, six hundred will pay them + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I only mean to lend it you.” + </p> + <p> + “That alters the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Prodigiously.” And she smiled satirically. “Now your friend's address, + that is treating with your creditors.” + </p> + <p> + “Must I?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless you want to put me in a great passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything sooner than that.” Then he wrote it for her. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said she, “grant me a little favor for old acquaintance. Just + kneel you down there, and let me wrestle with Heaven for you, that you may + be a brand plucked from the fire, even as I am.” + </p> + <p> + The Pink of Politeness submitted, with a sigh of resignation. + </p> + <p> + Then she prayed for him so hard, so beseechingly, so eloquently, he was + amazed and touched. + </p> + <p> + She rose from her knees, and laid her head on her hand, exhausted a little + by her own earnestness. + </p> + <p> + He stood by her, and hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “You are very good,” he said. “It is a shame to let you waste it on me. + Look here—I want to do a little bit of good to another man, after + you praying so beautifully.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I am so glad. Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you mustn't waste a thought on me, Rhoda. I'm a gambler and a + fool: let me go to the dogs at once; it is only a question of time: but + there's a fellow here that is in trouble, and doesn't deserve it, and he + was a faithful friend to you, I believe. I never was. And he has got a + wife: and by what I hear, you could get him out, I think, and I am sure + you would be angry with me afterward if I didn't tell you; you have such a + good heart. It is Sir Charles Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles Bassett here! Oh, his poor wife! What drove him mad? Poor, + poor Sir Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is all right. They have cured him entirely; but there is no + getting him out, and he is beginning to lose heart, they say. There's a + literary swell here can tell you all about it; he has come down expressly: + but they are in a fix, and I think you could help them out. I wish you + would let me introduce you to him.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels.” + </p> + <p> + “I adore him. Introduce me at once. But Sir Charles must not see me, nor + know I am here. Say Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett's, begs to be + introduced.” + </p> + <p> + Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe; but whispered out of his own head, + “A character for your next novel—a saint with the devil's own + temper.” + </p> + <p> + This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her directly. + </p> + <p> + As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, these two knew each + other intimately in about twelve minutes; and Rolfe told her all the facts + I have related, and Marsh went into several passions, and corrected + herself, and said she had been a great sinner, but was plucked from the + burning, and therefore thankful to anybody who would give her a little bit + of good to do. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged her to see the + Commissioners in Lunacy, and use all her eloquence to get one of them + down. “They don't act upon my letters,” said he; “but it will be another + thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts it to them in person, with all + that power of face and voice I see in you. You are all fire; and you can + talk Saxon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll talk to them,” said Mrs. Marsh, “and God will give me words; He + always does when I am on His side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heart bleeds for + her. I will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night, if you like. To-night? + I'll go this instant!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Rolfe: “is there a lady in the world who will go a journey + without packing seven trunks—and merely to do a good action?” + </p> + <p> + “You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost time.” + </p> + <p> + “At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose none. So I'll arm + you at once with certain documents, and you must not leave the + commissioners till they promise to send one of their number down without + delay to examine him, and discharge him if he is as we represent.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe to Dr. Suaby's study. + </p> + <p> + They armed her with letters and written facts, and she rode off at a fiery + pace; but not before she and Rolfe had sworn eternal friendship. + </p> + <p> + The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She was chilled, but not + daunted. She produced Suaby's letter and Rolfe's, and when they were read + she played the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, she convinced, she + persuaded, she thundered. Fire seemed to come out of the woman. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, caught fire, and + declared he would go down next day and look into the matter on the spot; + and he kept his word. He came down; he saw Sir Charles and Suaby, and + penetrated the case. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good heart, but rather an + arrogant manner. He was also slightly affected with official pomposity and + reticence; so, unfortunately, he went away without declaring his good + intentions, and discouraged them all with the fear of innumerable delays + in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Now if Justice is slow, Injustice is swift. The very next day a + thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles and his friends. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers from an asylum kept + by Burdoch, a layman, the very opposite of the benevolent Suaby. His was a + place where the old system of restraint prevailed, secretly but largely: + strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleas and bugs destroyed + the patients' rest; and to counteract the insects morphia was administered + freely. Given to the bugs and fleas, it would have been an effectual + antidote; but they gave it to the patients, and so the insects won. + </p> + <p> + These three keepers came with an order correctly drawn, and signed by + Richard Bassett, to deliver Sir Charles to the agents showing the order. + </p> + <p> + Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at the sight of the order, + and took it to Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + “Resist!” said that worthy. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right.” + </p> + <p> + “On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while I—Has Bassett + paid you for Sir Charles's board?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Decline to give him up till that is done, and be some time making out the + bill. Come what may, pray keep Sir Charles here till I send you a note + that I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + He then hastened to Sir Charles and unfolded his plans, to him. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles assented eagerly. He was quite willing to run risks with the + hope of immediate liberation, which Rolfe held out. His own part was to + delay and put off till he got a line from Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole and the doctor's dog-cart, and + dashed into the town, distant two miles. + </p> + <p> + First he went to the little theater, and found them just concluding a + rehearsal. Being a playwright, he was known to nearly all the people, more + or less, and got five supers and one carpenter to join him—for a + consideration. + </p> + <p> + He then made other arrangements in the town, the nature of which will + appear in due course. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Suaby had presented his bill. One of the keepers got into the fly + and took it back to the town. There, as Rolfe had anticipated, lurked + Richard Bassett. He cursed the delay, gave the man the money, and urged + expedition. The money was brought and paid, and Suaby informed Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry. He took a long time to pack; and + he was not ready till Vandeleur brought a note to him from Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles came down. + </p> + <p> + Suaby made Burdoch's keeper sign a paper to the effect that he had the + baronet in charge, and relieved Suaby of all further responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. Suaby, and made him + promise to visit him at Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, and the fly drove + off. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles at that moment needed all his fortitude. The least mistake or + miscalculation on the part of his friends, and what might not be the + result to him? + </p> + <p> + As the fly went slowly through the gate he saw on his right hand a light + carriage and pair moving up; but was it coming after him, or only bringing + visitors to the asylum? + </p> + <p> + The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. It rolled and + rolled. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. He tried to look out of the + window to see if the carriage was following. + </p> + <p> + One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. “Come, none of that, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You insolent scoundrel!” said Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” said the man; “we'll see about that when we get you home.” + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive blackguard. + </p> + <p> + He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over him. + </p> + <p> + Just then they passed a little clump of fir-trees. + </p> + <p> + In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number of men in crape + masks, stopped the horses, surrounded the carriage, and opened it with + brandishing of bludgeons and life-preservers, and pointing of guns. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> + <p> + A BIG man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of ferocious oaths at the + keepers, and threatened to send them to hell that moment if they did not + instantly deliver up that gentleman. + </p> + <p> + The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for mercy. + </p> + <p> + “Hand him out here, you scoundrels!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is the use?” + </p> + <p> + “Hand down his luggage.” + </p> + <p> + It was done all in a flutter. + </p> + <p> + “Now get in again; turn your horses' heads the other way, and don't come + back for an hour. You with your guns take stations in those trees, and + shoot them dead if they are back before their time.” + </p> + <p> + These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, and Burdoch's party + were glad to get off, and they drove away quickly in the direction + indicated. + </p> + <p> + However, as soon as they got over their first surprise they began to smell + a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it was scarcely twenty minutes when they + came back. + </p> + <p> + But meantime the supers were paid liberally among the fir-trees by + Vandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung their dummy guns into a cornfield, + dispersed in different directions, and left no trace. + </p> + <p> + But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment he was recaptured he + and his luggage were whisked off in the other carriage, and, with Rolfe + and his secretary, dashed round the town, avoiding the main street, to a + railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit. Not that they + dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and a firm determination to fight if + necessary, and also three tongues to tell the truth, instead of one. + </p> + <p> + At one in the morning they were in London. They slept at Mr. Rolfe's + house; and before breakfast Mr. Rolfe's secretary was sent to secure a + couple of prize-fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till further notice. + They were furnished with a written paper explaining the case briefly, and + were instructed to hit first and talk afterward should a recapture be + attempted. Should a crowd collect, they were to produce the letter. These + measures were to provide against his recapture under the statute, which + allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken upon the old certificates for + fourteen days after his escape from confinement, but for no longer. + </p> + <p> + Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his wife and child. + The faithful pugilists followed at his heels in another cab. + </p> + <p> + Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Rolfe knew Lady Bassett's address: it was the + medical man who had written: but that did not much matter; Sir Charles was + sure to learn his wife's address from Mr. Boddington. He called on that + gentleman at 17 Upper Gloucester Place. Mr. Boddington had just taken his + wife down to Margate for her health; had only been gone half an hour. + </p> + <p> + This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently Sir Charles must wait + that gentleman's return. He wrote a line, begging Mr. Boddington to send + him Lady Bassett's address in a cab immediately on his return. + </p> + <p> + He told Mr. Rolfe this; and then for the first time let out that his + wife's not writing to him at the asylum had surprised and alarmed him; he + was on thorns. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, and at breakfast time + Sir Charles had a note to say Lady Bassett was at 119 Gloucester Place, + Portman Square. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and then dashed off in + a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place. + </p> + <p> + There was a bill in the window, “To be let, furnished. Apply to Parker + & Ellis.” + </p> + <p> + He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked again. A lugubrious female + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Bassett?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't live here, sir. House to be let.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mistaken; but he would look + at his address-book. He did, and said it was certainly 119 Gloucester + Place; “Perhaps she has left,” said he. “She was very healthy—an + excellent patient. But I should not have advised her to move for a day or + two more.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the agents, Parker & + Ellis. + </p> + <p> + They said, Yes; the house was Lady Bassett's for a few months. They were + instructed to let it. + </p> + <p> + “When did she leave? I am her husband, and we have missed each other + somehow.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had brought the keys in her + carriage yesterday. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “Did she give you no address?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Huntercombe Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean no address in London?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; none.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, and all manner of + strange ideas came into his head. He did not know what to do, but he could + not bear to do nothing, so he drove to the <i>Times</i> office and + advertised, requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to Mr. + Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by the last + post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett to her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “119 Gloucester Place. + </p> + <p> + “DARLING—The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for + the noise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy + carriage. Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first + journey will be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you + and I were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soon + be again, I hope. + </p> + <p> + “Your devoted wife. + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT. + </p> + <p> + “My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfe + persuaded him not. “And mind,” said he, “the faithful pugilists must go + with you.” + </p> + <p> + The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letter from + Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positively + discharged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosom + friend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife. + </p> + <p> + She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, and + when he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a + window opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and saw + his wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him. He + rushed upstairs, into the right room by some mighty instinct, and held + her, panting and crying for joy, in his arms. + </p> + <p> + That moment almost compensated what each had suffered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. + </h2> + <p> + So full was the joy of this loving pair that, for a long time, they sat + rocking in each other's arms, and thought of nothing but their sorrows + past, and the sea of bliss they were floating on. + </p> + <p> + But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. Swift to interpret + his every look, Lady Bassett rose, took two steps, came back and printed a + kiss on his forehead, and then went to a door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Millar!” said she, with one of those tones by which these ladies + impregnate with meaning a word that has none at all; and then she came + back to her husband. + </p> + <p> + Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a biggish bank of linen and + lace, with a little face in the middle. The good woman held it up to Sir + Charles, and he felt something novel stir inside him. He looked at the + little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, and a good deal of + curiosity; and then turned smiling to his wife. She had watched him + furtively but keenly, and her eyes were brimming over. He kissed the + little thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife's hands, and kissed + her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at baby with him, hand in hand. + It was a pretty picture. + </p> + <p> + The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple women do when they exhibit + a treasure of this sort; she lifted the little mite slowly up and down, + and said, “Oh, you Beauty!” and then went off into various inarticulate + sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of the new philosophers: + they cannot have been invented after speech; that would be retrogression; + they must be the vocal remains of that hairy, sharp-eared quadruped, our + Progenitor, who by accident discovered language, and so turned Biped, and + went ahead of all the other hairy quadrupeds, whose ears were too long or + not sharp enough to stumble upon language. + </p> + <p> + Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett drew her husband a + little apart, and looking in his face with piteous wistfulness, said, “You + won't mind Richard Bassett and his baby now?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never have another fit while you live?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + “You will always be happy?” + </p> + <p> + “I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel!” And she pounced on + the mite, and kissed it far harder than Sir Charles had. Heaven knows what + these gentle creatures are so rough with their mouths to children, but so + it is. + </p> + <p> + And now how can a mere male relate all the pretty childish things that + were done and said to baby, and of baby, before the inevitable squalling + began, and baby was taken away to be consoled by another of his subjects. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other, to + murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other. + </p> + <p> + But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassett + plucked up courage and said, “Charles, I am not quite happy. There is one + thing wanting.” And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed. “I + cannot nurse him.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Sir Charles kindly. + </p> + <p> + “You forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you, my poor girl! Why, is that a crime?” + </p> + <p> + “It leads to so many things. You don't know what a plague a nurse is, and + makes one jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is a little peevish. + Don't let us be ungrateful to Heaven. As for me, while you and our child + live, I am proof against much greater misfortunes than that.” + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped. + </p> + <p> + But it was renewed next morning in a more definite form. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles rose early; and in the pride and joy of his heart, and not + quite without an eye to triumphing over his mortal enemy and his cold + friends, sent a mounted messenger with orders to his servants to prepare + for his immediate reception, and to send out his landau and four horses to + the “Rose,” at Staveleigh, half-way between Huntercombe and the place + where he now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself able for the journey. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he asked her rather suddenly whether Mrs. Millar was not + rather an elderly woman to select for a nurse. “I thought people got a + young woman for that office.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Lady Bassett, “why, Mrs. Millar is not <i>the</i> nurse. Of + course nurse is young and healthy, and from the country, and the best I + could have in every way for baby. But yet—oh, Charles, I hope you + will not be angry—who do you think nurse is? It is Mary Gosport—Mary + Wells that was.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and that together, and + said, “Why, she must have been playing the fool, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman now, and her husband gone + to sea, and her child dead. Most wet-nurses have a child of their own; and + don't you think they must hate the stranger's child that parts them from + their own? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And the wet-nurse is always a + tyrant; and I thought, as this one has got into a habit of obeying me, she + might be more manageable; and then as to her having been imprudent, I know + many ladies who have been obliged to shut their eyes a little. Why, + consider, Charles, would good wives and good mothers leave their own + children to nurse a stranger's? Would their husbands let them? And I + thought,” said she, piteously, “we were so fortunate to get a young, + healthy girl, imprudent but not vicious, whose fault had been covered by + marriage, and then so attached to us both as she is, poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of mole-hills. “Why, my dear + Bella,” said he, “after all, this is your department, not mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but unless I please you in every department there is no happiness + for me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know you please me in everything; and the more I look into + anything, the wiser I always think you. You have chosen the best wet-nurse + possible. Send her to me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett hesitated. “You will be kind to her. You know the consequence + if anything happens to make her fret. Baby will suffer for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she potentate till he is weaned. + Dress for the journey, my dear, and send nurse to me.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett went into the next room, and after a long time Mary came to + Sir Charles with baby in her arms. + </p> + <p> + Mary had lost for a time some of her ruddy color, but her skin was + clearer, and somehow her face was softened. She looked really a beautiful + and attractive young woman. + </p> + <p> + She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good look at him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, nurse,” said he, cheerfully, “here we are back again, both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “That we be, sir.” And she showed her white teeth in a broad smile. “La, + sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. How well you do look, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. You look pretty well too; + only a little pale; paler than Lady Bassett does.” + </p> + <p> + “I give my color to the child,” said Mary, simply. + </p> + <p> + She did not know she had said anything poetic; but Sir Charles was so + touched and pleased with her answer that he gave her a five-pound note on + the spot; and he said, “We'll bring your color back if beef and beer and + kindness can do it.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't afeard o' that, sir; and I'll arn it. 'Tis a lovely boy, sir, and + your very image.” + </p> + <p> + Inspection followed; and something or other offended young master; he + began to cackle. But this nurse did not take him away, as Mrs. Millar had. + She just sat down with him and nursed him openly, with rustic composure + and simplicity. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, and eyed the pair; for all + this was a new world of feeling to him. His paid servant seemed to him to + be playing the mother to his child. Somehow it gave him a strange twinge, + a sort of vicarious jealousy: he felt for his Bella. But I think his own + paternal pride, in all its freshness, was hurt a little too. + </p> + <p> + At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out of the room, with a + hint to Mary that she must wrap herself up, for it would be an open + carriage— + </p> + <p> + “Your own carriage, sir, and horses?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “And do all the folk know as we are coming?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles laughed. “Most likely. Gossip is not dead at Huntercombe, I + dare say.” + </p> + <p> + Nurse's black eyes flashed. “All the village will be out. I hope <i>he</i> + will see us ride in, the black-hearted villain!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into that topic; he went + about his business. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett's carriage, duly packed, came round, and Lady Bassett was + ready soon afterward; so was Mrs. Millar; so was baby, imbedded now in a + nest of lawn and lace and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. Lady + Bassett explained <i>sotto voce</i> to her husband, “Just at the last + moment she was seized with a desire to wear a silk gown I gave her. I + argued with her, but she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very + hard upon <i>you,</i> dear.” + </p> + <p> + Her face and voice were so piteous that Sir Charles burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “We must take the bitter along with the sweet. Don't you think the sweet + rather predominates at present?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. “My darling is happy + now; trifles cannot put him out.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if anything could shake me while I have you and our child. As for + that jade keeping us all waiting while she dons silk attire, it is simply + delicious. I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Gosport appeared at last in a purple silk gown, and marched to the + carriage without the slightest sign of the discomfort she really felt; but + that was no wonder, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walk not + only smiling but jauntily, though dead lame on stilts, as you may see any + day in Regent Street. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby and his attendants in + first, then Lady Bassett, and got in last himself. + </p> + <p> + Before they had gone a mile Nurse No. 1 handed the child over to Nurse No. + 2 with a lofty condescension, as who should say, “You suffice for + porterage; I, the superior artist, reserve myself for emergencies.” No. 2 + received the invaluable bundle with meek complacency. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her position. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Mary?” said Lady Bassett, kindly. “Is the dress too + tight?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my lady,” said Mary, sharply; “the gownd's all right.” And then + she was quiet a little. + </p> + <p> + But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whispered Sir Charles, “I think + she wants to sit forward: <i>may</i> I?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. I'll change with her. Here, Mary, try this side. We shall + have more room in the landau; it is double, with wide seats.” + </p> + <p> + Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of the window. Indeed, + she was quiet for nearly half an hour. At the expiration of that period + the fit took her again. She beckoned haughtily for baby, “which did come + at her command,” as the song says. She got tired of baby, or something, + and handed him back again. + </p> + <p> + Presently she was discovered to be crying. + </p> + <p> + General consternation! Universal but vague consolation! + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. Millar looked back + assent. Lady Bassett assumed the command, and took off Mary's shawl. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Yes,”</i> said she to Mrs. Millar. “Now, Mary, be good; it <i>is</i> + too tight.” + </p> + <p> + Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty effort, while Lady + Bassett attacked the fastenings, and, with infinite difficulty, they + unhooked three bottom hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, and the + awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can command, and how + savagely abuse it to maltreat nature. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh of relief told the + truth, which the lying tongue had denied, as it always does whenever the + same question is put. + </p> + <p> + The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they entered the town of + Staveleigh. + </p> + <p> + Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, and took the child + again. He was her banner in all public places. + </p> + <p> + When they came up to the inn they were greeted with loud hurrahs. It was + market-day. The town was full of Sir Charles's tenants and other farmers. + His return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty had resolved to ride + with him into Huntercombe. + </p> + <p> + When five or six, all shouting together, intimated this to Sir Charles, he + sent one of his people to order the butchers out to Huntercombe with + joints a score, and then to gallop on with a note to his housekeeper and + butler. “For those that ride so far with me must sup with me,” said he; a + sentiment that was much approved. + </p> + <p> + He took Lady Bassett and the women upstairs and rested them about an hour; + and then they started for Huntercombe, followed by some thirty farmers and + a dozen towns-people, who had a mind for a lark and to sup at Huntercombe + Hall for once. + </p> + <p> + The ride was delightful; the carriage bowled swiftly along over a smooth + road, with often turf at the side; and that enabled the young farmers to + canter alongside without dusting the carriage party. Every man on + horseback they overtook joined them; some they met turned back with them, + and these were rewarded with loud cheers. Every eye in the carriage + glittered, and every cheek was more or less flushed by this uproarious + sympathy so gallantly shown, and the very thunder of so many horses' feet, + each carrying a friend, was very exciting and glorious. Why, before they + got to the village they had fourscore horsemen at their backs. + </p> + <p> + As they got close to the village Mary Gosport held out her arms for young + master: this was not the time to forego her importance. + </p> + <p> + The church-bells rang out a clashing peal, the cavalcade clattered into + the village. Everybody was out to cheer, and at sight of baby the women's + voices were as loud as the men's. Old pensioners of the house were out + bareheaded; one, with hair white as snow, was down on his knees praying a + blessing on them. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett began to cry softly; Sir Charles, a little pale, but firm as + a rock; both bowing right and left, like royal personages; and well they + might; every house in the village belonged to them but one. + </p> + <p> + On approaching that one Mary Gosport turned her head round, and shot a. + glance round out of the tail of her eye. Ay, there was Richard Bassett, + pale and gloomy, half-hid behind a tree at his gate: but Hate's quick eye + discerned him: at the moment of passing she suddenly lifted the child + high, and showed it him, pretending to show it to the crowd: but her eye + told the tale; for, with that act of fierce hatred and cunning triumph, + those black orbs shot a colored gleam like a furious leopardess's. + </p> + <p> + A roar of cheers burst from the crowd at that inspired gesture of a woman, + whose face and eyes seemed on fire: Lady Bassett turned pale. + </p> + <p> + The next moment they passed their own gate, and dashed up to the hall + steps of Huntercombe. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles sent Lady Bassett to her room for the night. She walked + through a row of ducking servants, bowing and smiling like a gentle + goddess. + </p> + <p> + Mary Gosport, afraid to march in a long dress with the child, for fear of + accidents, handed him superbly to Millar and strutted haughtily after her + mistress, nodding patronage. Her follower, the meek Millar, stopped often + to show the heir right and left, with simple geniality and kindness. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles stood on the hall steps, and invited all to come in and take + pot-luck. + </p> + <p> + Already spits were turning before great fires; a rump of beef, legs of + pork, and pease-puddings boiling in one copper; turkeys and fowls in + another; joints and pies baking in the great brick ovens; barrels of beer + on tap, and magnums of champagne and port marching steadily up from the + cellars, and forming in line and square upon sideboards and tables. + </p> + <p> + Supper was laid in the hall, the dining-room, the drawing-room, and the + great kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Poor villagers trickled in: no man or woman was denied; it was open house + that night, as it had been four hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. + </h2> + <p> + WHEN Sharpe's clerk retired, after serving that writ on Bassett, Bassett + went to Wheeler and treated it as a jest. But Wheeler looked puzzled, and + Bassett himself, on second thoughts, said he should like advice of + counsel. Accordingly they both went up to London to a solicitor, and + obtained an interview with a counsel learned in the law. He heard their + story, and said, “The question is, can you convince a jury he was insane + at the time?” + </p> + <p> + “But he can't get into court,” said Bassett. “I won't let him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the court will make you produce him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought an insane person was civiliter mortuus, and couldn't sue.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is; but this man is not insane in law. Shutting up a man on + certificates is merely a preliminary step to a fair trial by his peers + whether he is insane or not. Take the parallel case of a felon. A + magistrate commits him for trial, and generally on better evidence than + medical certificates; but that does not make the man a felon, or + disentitle him to a trial by his peers; on the contrary, it entitles him + to a trial, and he could get Parliament to interfere if he was not brought + to trial. This plaintiff simply does what, he will say, you ought to have + done; he tries himself; if he tries you at the same time, that is your + fault. If he is insane now, fight. If he is not, I advise you to discharge + him on the instant, and then compound.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler said he was afraid the plaintiff was too vindictive to come to + terms. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you can show you discharged him the moment you had reason to + think he was cured, and you must prove he was insane when you incarcerated + him; but I warn you it will be uphill work if he is sane now; the jury + will be apt to go by what they see.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett and Wheeler retired; the latter did not presume to differ; but + Bassett was dissatisfied and irritated. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow would only see the plaintiff's side,” said he. “The fool + forgets there is an Act of Parliament, and that we have complied with its + provisions to a T.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you not ask his construction of the Act?” suggested Wheeler. + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't want his construction. I've read it, and it is plain + enough to anybody but a fool. Well, I have consulted counsel, to please + you; and now I'll go my own way, to please myself.” + </p> + <p> + He went to Burdoch, and struck a bargain, and Sir Charles was to be + shifted to Burdoch's asylum, and nobody allowed to see him there, etc., + etc.; the old system, in short, than which no better has as yet been + devised for perpetuating, or even causing, mental aberration. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe baffled this, as described, and Bassett was literally stunned. He + now saw that Sir Charles had an ally full of resources and resolution. Who + could it be? He began to tremble. He complained to the police, and set + them to discover who had thus openly and audaciously violated the Act of + Parliament, and then he went and threatened Dr. Suaby. + </p> + <p> + But Rolfe and Sir Charles, who loved Suaby as he deserved, had provided + against that; they had not let the doctor into their secret. He therefore + said, with perfect truth, that he had no hand in the matter, and that Sir + Charles, being bound upon his honor not to escape from Bellevue, would be + in the asylum still if Mr. Bassett had not taken him out, and invoked + brute force, in the shape of Burdoch. “Well, sir,” said he, “it seems they + have shown you two can play at that game.” And so bade him good afternoon + very civilly. + </p> + <p> + Bassett went home sickened. He remained sullen and torpid for a day or + two; then he wrote to Burdoch to send to London and try and recapture Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + But next day he revoked his instructions, for he got a letter from the + Commissioners of Lunacy, announcing the authoritative discharge of Sir + Charles, on the strong representation of Dr. Suaby and other competent + persons. + </p> + <p> + That settled the matter, and the poor cousin had kept the rich cousin + three months at his own expense, with no solid advantage, but the prospect + of a lawsuit. + </p> + <p> + Sharpe, spurred by Rolfe, gave him no breathing time. With the utmost + expedition the Declaration in Bassett <i>v.</i> Bassett followed the writ. + </p> + <p> + It was short, simple, and in three counts. + </p> + <p> + “For violently seizing and confining the plaintiff in a certain place, on + a false pretense that he was insane. + </p> + <p> + “For detaining him in spite of evidence that he was not insane. + </p> + <p> + “For endeavoring to remove him to another place, with a certain sinister + motive there specified. + </p> + <p> + “By which several acts the plaintiff had suffered in his health and his + worldly affairs, and had endured great agony of mind.” + </p> + <p> + And the plaintiff claimed damages, ten thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + Bassett sent over for his friend Wheeler, and showed him the new document + with no little consternation. + </p> + <p> + But their discussion of it was speedily interrupted by the clashing of + triumphant bells and distant shouting. + </p> + <p> + They ran out to see what it was. Bassett, half suspecting, hung back; but + Mary Gosport's keen eye detected him, and she held up the heir to him, + with hate and triumph blazing in her face. + </p> + <p> + He crept into his own house and sank into a chair foudroye. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler, however, roused him to a necessary effort, and next day they took + the Declaration to counsel, to settle their defense in due form. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” said the learned gentleman. “Three counts! Why, I advised + you to discharge him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Wheeler, “and excellent advice it was. But my client—” + </p> + <p> + “Preferred to go his own road. And now I am to cure the error I did what I + could to prevent.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say, sir, it is not the first time in your experience.” + </p> + <p> + “Not by a great many. Clients, in general, have a great contempt for the + notion that prevention is better than cure.” + </p> + <p> + “He can't hurt me,” said Bassett, impatiently. “He was separately examined + by two doctors, and all the provisions of the statute exactly complied + with.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is no defense to this plaint. The statute forbids you to + imprison an insane person without certain precautions; but it does not + give you a right, under any circumstances, to imprison a sane man. That + was decided in Butcher <i>v. </i>Butcher. The defense you rely on was + pleaded as a second plea, and the plaintiff demurred to it directly. The + question was argued before the full court, and the judges, led by the + first lawyer of the age, decided unanimously that the provisions of the + statute did not affect sane Englishmen and their rights under the common + law. They ordered the plea to be struck off the record, and the case was + reduced to a simple issue of sane or insane. Butcher <i>v.</i> Butcher + governs all these cases. Can you prove him insane? If not, you had better + compound on any terms. In Butcher's case the jury gave 3,000 pounds, and + the plaintiff was a man of very inferior position to Sir Charles Bassett. + Besides, the defendant, Butcher, had not persisted against evidence, as + you have. They will award 5,000 pounds at least in this case.” + </p> + <p> + He took down a volume of reports, and showed them the case he had cited; + and, on reading the unanimous decision of the judges, and the learning by + which they were supported, Wheeler said at once: “Mr. Bassett, we might as + well try to knock down St. Paul's with our heads as to go against this + decision.” + </p> + <p> + They then settled to put in a single plea, that Sir Charles was insane at + the time of his capture. + </p> + <p> + This done, to gain time, Wheeler called on Sharpe, and, after several + conferences, got the case compounded by an apology, a solemn retractation + in writing, and the payment of four thousand pounds; his counsel assured + him his client was very lucky to get off so cheap. + </p> + <p> + Bassett paid the money, with the assistance of his wife's father: but it + was a sickener; it broke his spirit, and even injured his health for some + time. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles improved the village with the money, and gave a copy-hold + tenement to each of the men Bassett had got imprisoned. So they and their + sons and their grandsons lived rent free—no, now I think of it, they + had to pay four pence a year to the Lord of the Manor. + </p> + <p> + Defeated at every point, and at last punished severely, Richard Bassett + fell into a deep dejection and solitary brooding of a sort very dangerous + to the reason. He would not go out-of-doors to give his enemies a triumph. + He used to sit by the fire and mutter, “Blow upon blow, blow upon blow. My + poor boy will never be lord of Huntercombe now!” and so on. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler pitied him, but could not rouse him. At last a person for whose + narrow attainments and simplicity he had a profound, though, to do him + justice, a civil contempt, ventured to his rescue. Mrs. Bassett went + crying to her father, and told him she feared the worst if Richard's mind + could not be diverted from the Huntercombe estate and his hatred of Sir + Charles and Lady Bassett, which had been the great misfortune of her life + and of his own, but nothing would ever eradicate it. Richard had great + abilities; was a linguist, a wonderful accountant; could her dear father + find him some profitable employment to divert his thoughts? + </p> + <p> + “What! all in a moment?” said the old man. “Then I shall have to <i>buy</i> + it; and if I go on like this I shall not have much to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + Having delivered this objection, he went up to London, and, having many + friends in the City, and laying himself open to proposals, he got scent at + last of a new insurance company that proposed also to deal in reversions, + especially to entailed estates. By prompt purchase of shares in Bassett's + name, and introducing Bassett himself, who, by special study, had a vast + acquaintance with entailed estates, and a genius for arithmetical + calculation, he managed somehow to get him into the direction, with a + stipend, and a commission on all business he might introduce to the + office. + </p> + <p> + Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time between London and the + country. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler worked with him on a share of commission, and they made some money + between them. + </p> + <p> + After the bitter lesson he had received Bassett vowed to himself he never + would attack Sir Charles again unless he was sure of victory. For all this + he hated him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them to the death. + </p> + <p> + He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor said a word; but in + London he employed a private inquirer to find out where Lady Bassett had + lived at the time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman had + visited her. + </p> + <p> + The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, comparing his + advertisements with his performance, dismissed him for a humbug. + </p> + <p> + But the office brought him into contact with a great many medical men, one + after another. He used to say to each stranger, with an insidious smile, + “I think you once attended my cousin—Lady Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. + </h2> + <p> + SIR CHARLES and Lady Bassett, relieved of their cousin's active enmity, + led a quiet life, and one that no longer furnished striking incidents. + </p> + <p> + But dramatic incident is not everything: character and feeling show + themselves in things that will not make pictures. Now it was precisely + during this reposeful period that three personages of this story exhibited + fresh traits of feeling, and also of character. + </p> + <p> + To begin with Sir Charles Bassett. He came back from the asylum much + altered in body and mind. Stopping his cigars had improved his stomach; + working in the garden had increased his muscular power, and his cheeks + were healthy, and a little sunburned, instead of sallow. His mind was also + improved: contemplation of insane persons had set him by a natural recoil + to study self-control. He had returned a philosopher. No small thing could + irritate him now. So far his character was elevated. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was much the same as before, except a certain restlessness. + She wanted to be told every day, or twice a day, that her husband was + happy; and, although he was visibly so, yet, as he was quiet over it, she + used to be always asking him if he was happy. This the reader must + interpret as he pleases. + </p> + <p> + Mary Gosport gave herself airs. Respectful to her master and mistress, but + not so tolerant of chaff in the kitchen as she used to be. Made an example + of one girl, who threw a doubt on her marriage. Complained to Lady + Bassett, affected to fret, and the girl was dismissed. + </p> + <p> + She turned singer. She had always sung psalms in church, but never a + profane note in the house. Now she took to singing over her nursling; she + had a voice of prodigious power and mellowness, and, provided she was not + asked, would sing lullabies and nursery rhymes from another county that + ravished the hearer. Horsemen have been known to stop in the road to hear + her sing through an open window of Huntercombe, two hundred yards off. + </p> + <p> + Old Mr. Meyrick, a farmer well-to-do, fascinated by Mary Gosport's + singing, asked her to be his housekeeper when she should have done nursing + her charge. + </p> + <p> + She laughed in his face. + </p> + <p> + A fanatic who was staying with Sir Charles Bassett offered her three + years' education in Do, Ra, Mi, Fa, preparatory to singing at the opera. + </p> + <p> + Declined without thanks. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Drake, after hovering shyly, at last found courage to reproach her for + deserting him and marrying a sailor. + </p> + <p> + “Teach you not to shilly-shally,” said she. “Beauty won't go a-begging. + Mind you look sharper next time.” + </p> + <p> + This dialogue, being held in the kitchen, gave the women some amusement at + the young farmer's expense. + </p> + <p> + One day Mr. Richard Bassett, from motives of pure affection no doubt, not + curiosity, desired mightily to inspect Mr. Bassett, aged eight months and + two days. + </p> + <p> + So, in his usual wily way, he wrote to Mrs. Gosport, asking her, for old + acquaintance' sake, to meet him in the meadow at the end of the lawn. This + meadow belonged to Sir Charles, but Richard Bassett had a right of way + through it, and could step into it by a postern, as Mary could by an iron + gate. + </p> + <p> + He asked her to come at eleven o'clock, because at that hour he observed + she walked on the lawn with her charge. + </p> + <p> + Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Richard was very polite; she cold, taciturn, observant. + </p> + <p> + At last he said, “But where's the little heir?” + </p> + <p> + She flew at him directly. “It is him you wanted, not me. Did you think I'd + bring him here—for you to kill him?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you'd kill him if you had a chance. But you never shall. Or if you + didn't kill him, you'd cast the evil-eye on him, for you are well known to + have the evil-eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lord of + these here manors when thou is gone to hell, thou villain.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest thing he could—put + his hands in his pockets, and walked into his own premises, followed, + however, by Mary Gosport, who stormed at him till he shut his postern in + her face. + </p> + <p> + She stood there trembling for a little while, then walked away, crying. + </p> + <p> + But having a mind like running water, she was soon seated on a garden + chair, singing over her nursling like a mavis: she had delivered him to + Millar while she went to speak her mind to her old lover. + </p> + <p> + As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so turned every thing + one way. To be sure, as long as the woman's glaring eyes and face + distorted by passion were before him, he interpreted her words simply; but + when he thought the matter over he said to himself, “The evil-eye! That is + all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett's secrets; and I am not to see young + master: some day I shall know the reason why.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles Bassett now belonged to the tribe of clucking cocks quite as + much as his cousin had ever done; only Sir Charles had the good taste to + confine his clucks to his own first-floor. Here, to be sure, he richly + indemnified himself for his self-denial abroad. He sat for hours at a time + watching the boy on the ground at his knee, or in his nurse's arms. + </p> + <p> + And while he watched the infant with undisguised delight, Lady Bassett + would watch <i>him</i> with a sort of furtive and timid complacency. + </p> + <p> + Yet at times she suffered from twinges of jealousy—a new complaint + with her. + </p> + <p> + I think I have mentioned that Sir Charles, at first, was annoyed at seeing + his son and heir nursed by a woman of low condition. Well, he got over + that feeling by degrees, and, as soon as he did get over it, his + sentiments took quite an opposite turn. A woman for whom he did very + little, in his opinion—since what, in Heaven's name, were a + servant's wages?—he saw that woman do something great for him; saw + her nourish his son and heir from her own veins; the child had no other + nurture; yet the father saw him bloom and thrive, and grow surprisingly. + </p> + <p> + A weak observer, or a less enthusiastic parent, might have overlooked all + this; but Sir Charles had naturally an observant eye and an analytical + mind, and this had been suddenly but effectually developed by the asylum + and his correspondence with Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + He watched the nurse, then, and her maternal acts with a curious and + grateful eye, and a certain reverence for her power. + </p> + <p> + He observed, too, that his child reacted on the woman: she had never sung + in the house before; now she sang ravishingly—sang, in low, mellow, + yet sonorous notes, some ditties that had lulled mediaeval barons in their + cradles. + </p> + <p> + And what had made her vocal made her beautiful at times. + </p> + <p> + Before, she had appeared to him a handsome girl, with the hardish look of + the lower classes; but now, when she sat in a sunny window, and lowered + her black lashes on her nursling, with the mixed and delicious smile of an + exuberant nurse relieving and relieved, she was soft, poetical, + sculptorial, maternal, womanly. + </p> + <p> + This species of contemplation, though half philosophical, half paternal, + and quite innocent, gave Lady Bassett some severe pangs. + </p> + <p> + She hid them, however; only she bided her time, and then suggested the + propriety of weaning baby. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Gosport got Sir Charles's ear, and told him what magnificent + children they reared in her village by not weaning infants till they were + eighteen months old or so. + </p> + <p> + By this means, and by crying to Lady Bassett, and representing her + desolate condition with a husband at sea, she obtained a reprieve, + coupled, however, with a good-humored assurance from Sir Charles that she + was the greatest baby of the two. + </p> + <p> + When the inevitable hour approached that was to dethrone her she took to + reading the papers, and one day she read of a disastrous wreck, the <i>Carbrea + Castle</i>—only seven saved out of a crew of twenty-three. She read + the details carefully, and two days afterward she received a letter + written by a shipmate of Mr. Gosport's, in a handwriting not very unlike + her own, relating the sad wreck of the <i>Carbrea Castle,</i> and the loss + of several good sailors, James Gosport for one. + </p> + <p> + Then the house was filled with the wailing and weeping of the bereaved + widow; and at last came consolers and raised doubts; but then somebody + remembered to have seen the loss of that very ship in the paper. The paper + was found, and the fatal truth was at once established. + </p> + <p> + Upon this Mr. Bassett was weaned as quickly as possible, and the widow + clothed in black at Lady Bassett's expense, and everything in reason done + to pet her and console her. + </p> + <p> + But she cried bitterly, and said she would throw herself into the sea and + follow her husband. + </p> + <p> + Huntercombe was nowhere near the coast. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, she relented, and concluded to remain on earth as + dry-nurse to Mr. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles did not approve this: it seemed unreasonable to turn a + wet-nurse into a dry-nurse when that office was already occupied by a + person her senior and more experienced. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett agreed with him, but shrugged her shoulders and said, “Two + nurses will not hurt, and I suspect it will not be for long. Mary does not + feel her husband's loss one bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you are mistaken. She howls loud enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Too loud—much,” said Lady Bassett, dryly. + </p> + <p> + Her perspicuity was not deceived. In a very short time Mr. Meyrick, unable + to get her for his housekeeper, offered her marriage. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said she, “and James Gosport not dead a month?” + </p> + <p> + “Say the word now, and take your own time,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I might do worse,” said she. + </p> + <p> + About six weeks after this Drake came about her, and in tender tones of + consolation suggested that it is much better for a pretty girl to marry + one who plows the land than one who plows the sea. + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Mary, with a sigh; “I have found it to my sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + After this Drake played a bit with her, and then relented, and one evening + offered her marriage, expecting her to jump eagerly at his offer. + </p> + <p> + “You be too late, young man,” said she, coolly; “I'm bespoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Doan't ye say that! How can ye be bespoke? Why, t'other hain't been dead + four months yet.” + </p> + <p> + “What o' that? This one spoke for me within a week. Why, our banns are to + be cried to-morrow; come to church and hear 'em; that will learn ye not to + shilly-shally so next time.” + </p> + <p> + “Next time!” cried Drake, half blubbering; then, with a sudden roar, + “what, be you coming to market again, arter this?” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough: he is a deal older than I be. 'Tis Mr. Meyrick, if ye must + know.” + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Meyrick was well-to-do, and so Drake was taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meyrick!” said he, and turned suddenly respectful. + </p> + <p> + But presently a view of a rich widow flitted before his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “you shan't throw it in my teeth again as I speak too + late. I ask you now, and no time lost.” + </p> + <p> + “What! am I to stop my banns, and jilt Farmer Meyrick for <i>thee?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay. But I mean I'll marry you, if you'll marry me, as soon as ever + the breath is out of that dall'd old hunks's body.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Will Drake,” said Mary, gravely, “if I do outlive this one—and + you bain't married long afore—and if you keeps in the same mind as + you be now—and lets me know it in good time—I'll see about + it.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a flounce that made her petticoats whisk like a mare's tail, and + off to the kitchen, where she related the dialogue with an appropriate + reflection, the company containing several of either sex. “Dilly-Dally and + Shilly-Shally, they belongs to us as women be. I hate and despise a man as + can't make up his mind in half a minnut.” + </p> + <p> + So the widow Gosport became Mrs. Meyrick, and lived in a farmhouse not + quite a mile from the Hall. + </p> + <p> + She used often to come to the Hall, and take a peep at her lamb: this was + the name she gave Mr. Bassett long after he had ceased to be a child. + </p> + <p> + About four years after the triumphant return to Huntercombe, Lady Bassett + conceived a sudden coldness toward the little boy, though he was + universally admired. + </p> + <p> + She concealed this sentiment from Sir Charles, but not from the female + servants: and, from one to another, at last it came round to Sir Charles. + He disbelieved it utterly at first; but, the hint having been given him, + he paid attention, and discovered there was, at all events, some truth in + it. + </p> + <p> + He awaited his opportunity and remonstrated: “My dear Bella, am I + mistaken, or do I really observe a falling off in your tenderness for your + child?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked this way and that, as if she meditated flight, but at + last she resigned herself, and said, “Yes, dear Charles; my heart is quite + cold to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens, Bella! But why? Is not this the same little angel that came + to our help in trouble, that comforted me even before his birth, when my + mind was morbid, to say the least?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he is the same,” said she, in a tone impossible to convey by + description of mine. + </p> + <p> + “That is a strange answer.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is, <i>I</i> am changed.” And this she said doggedly and unlike + herself. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Sir Charles, very gravely, and with a sort of awe: “can a + woman withdraw her affection from her child, her innocent child? If so, my + turn may come next.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Charles! Charles!” and the tears began to well. + </p> + <p> + “Why, who can be secure after this? What is so stable as a mother's love? + If that is not rooted too deep for gusts of caprice to blow it away, in + Heaven's name, what is?” + </p> + <p> + No answer to that but tears. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked at her very long, attentively, and seriously, and said + not another syllable. + </p> + <p> + But his dropping so suddenly a subject of this importance was rather + suspicious, and Lady Bassett was too shrewd not to see that. + </p> + <p> + They watched each other. + </p> + <p> + But with this difference: Sir Charles could not conceal his anxiety, + whereas the lady appeared quite tranquil. + </p> + <p> + One day Sir Charles said, cheerfully, “Who do you think dines here + to-morrow, and stays all night? Dr. Suaby.” + </p> + <p> + “By invitation, dear?” asked Lady Bassett, quietly. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles colored a little, and said, quietly, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett made no remark, and it was impossible to tell by her face + whether the visit was agreeable or not. + </p> + <p> + Some time afterward, however, she said, “Whom shall I ask to meet Dr. + Suaby?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, for Heaven's sake!” + </p> + <p> + “Will not that be dull for him?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have plenty to say to him, eh, darling?” + </p> + <p> + “We never yet lacked topics. Whether or no, his is a mind I choose to + drink neat.” + </p> + <p> + “Drink him neat?” + </p> + <p> + “Undiluted with rural minds.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + She uttered that monosyllable very dryly, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Suaby came next day, and dined with them, and Lady Bassett was + charming; but rather earlier than usual she said, “Now I am sure you and + Dr. Suaby must have many things to talk about,” and retired, casting back + an arch, and almost a cunning smile. + </p> + <p> + The door closed on her, the smile fled, and a somber look of care and + suffering took its place. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles entered at once on what was next his heart, told Dr. Suaby he + was in some anxiety, and asked him if he had observed anything in Lady + Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing new,” said Dr. Suaby; “charming as ever.” + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles confided to Dr. Suaby, in terms of deep feeling and + anxiety, what I have coldly told the reader. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Suaby looked a little grave, and took time to think before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + At last he delivered an opinion, of which this is the substance, though + not the exact words. + </p> + <p> + “It is sudden and unnatural, and I cannot say it does not partake of + mental aberration. If the patient was a man I should fear the most serious + results; but here we have to take into account the patient's sex, her + nature, and her present condition. Lady Bassett has always appeared to me + a very remarkable woman. She has no mediocrity in anything; understanding + keen, perception wonderfully swift, heart large and sensitive, nerves high + strung, sensibilities acute. A person of her sex, tuned so high as this, + is always subject, more or less, to hysteria. It is controlled by her + intelligence and spirit; but she is now, for the time being, in a physical + condition that has often deranged less sensitive women than she is. I + believe this about the boy to be a hysterical delusion, which will pass + away when her next child is born. That is to say, she will probably ignore + her first-born, and everything else, for a time; but these caprices, + springing in reality from the body rather than the mind, cannot endure + forever. When she has several grown-up children the first-born will be the + favorite. It comes to that at last, my good friend.” + </p> + <p> + “These are the words of wisdom,” said Sir Charles; “God bless you for + them!” + </p> + <p> + After a while he said, “Then what you advise is simply—patience?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't say that. With such a large house as this, and your + resources, you might easily separate them before the delusion grows any + farther. Why risk a calamity?” + </p> + <p> + “A calamity?” and Sir Charles began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “She is only cold to the child as yet. She might go farther, and fancy she + hated it. <i>Obsta principiis:</i> that is my motto. Not that I really + think, for a moment, the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind to + control her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a chance?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not run the shadow of a chance,” said Sir Charles, resolutely; + “let us come upstairs: my decision is taken.” + </p> + <p> + The very next day Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, and asked if he + could come to any arrangement with her to lodge Mr. Bassett and his nurse + under her roof. “The boy wants change of air,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all terms. “No,” said + she, “the child I have suckled shall never pay me for his lodging. Why + should he, sir, when I'd pay <i>you</i> to let him come, if I wasn't + afeard of offending you?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentleman of tact, said, + “You are very good: well, then, I must remain your debtor for the + present.” + </p> + <p> + He then took his leave, but she walked with him a few yards, just as far + as the wicket, gate that separated her little front garden from the + high-road. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said she, “my lady will come and see me when my lamb is with me; + a sight of her would be good for sore eyes. She have never been here but + once, and then she did not get out of her carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Sir Charles, apologetically; “she seldom goes out now; you + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for her; for my lady has + been a good friend to me, sir, and if you will believe me, I often sets + here and longs for a sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and her hair like + sunshine, that I've had in my hand so often. Well, sir, I hope it will be + a girl this time, a little girl with golden hair; that's what I wants this + time. They'll be the prettiest pair in England.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” said Sir Charles; “girl or boy, I don't care which; + but I'd give a few thousands if it was here, and the mother safe.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feelings of his heart to a + farmer's wife. To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boy off + all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he had done. + </p> + <p> + She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what she had done. + </p> + <p> + He soothed her, and said she was not to blarne at all; and she must not + blame him either. He had done it for the best. + </p> + <p> + “After all, you are the master,” said she, submissively. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said he, “and men will be tyrants, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Then she flung her arm round her tyrant's neck, and there was an end of + the discussion. + </p> + <p> + One day he inquired for her, and heard, to his no small satisfaction, she + had driven to Mrs. Meyrick's, with a box of things for Mr. Bassett. She + stayed at the farmhouse all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he had done the + right thing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference between a nursling and a + rampageous little boy. + </p> + <p> + Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, vigorous, active, + restless, and, unfortunately, as strong on his pins as most boys of six. + It took two women to look after him, and smart ones too, so swiftly did he + dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. Meyrick simplified + matters in some degree by locking the large gate, and even the small + wicket, and ordering all the farm people and milkmaids to keep an eye on + him, and bring him straight to her if he should stray, for he seemed to + hate in-doors. Never was such a boy. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, such as had not the care of him admired the child for his + beauty and his assurance. He seemed to regard the whole human race as one + family, of which he was the rising head. The moment he caught sight of a + human being he dashed at it and into conversation by one unbroken + movement. + </p> + <p> + Now children in general are too apt to hide their intellectual treasures + from strangers by shyness. + </p> + <p> + One day this ready converser was standing on the steps of the house, when + a gentleman came to the wicket gate, and looked over into the garden. + </p> + <p> + Young master darted to the gate directly, and getting his foot on the + lowest bar and his hands on the spikes, gave tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? <i>I'm</i> Mr. Bassett. I don't live here; I'm only staying. + My home is Huncom Hall. I'm to have it for myself when papa dies. I didn't + know dat till I come here. How old are you? I'm half past four—” + </p> + <p> + A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was clutched up by Mrs. + Meyrick, who snatched him away with a wild glance of terror and defiance, + and bore him swiftly into the house, with words ringing in her ears that + cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she could punish. She sat + down on a bench, flung young master across her knee in a minute, and + bestowed such a smacking on him as far transcended his wildest dreams of + the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm. + </p> + <p> + The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with were these: + </p> + <p> + “Too late! I've SEEN THE PARSON'S BRAT.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett mounted his horse and rode over to Wheeler, for he could + no longer wheedle the man of law over to Highmore, and I will very briefly + state why. + </p> + <p> + 1st. About three years ago an old lady, one of his few clients, left him + three thousand pounds, just reward of a very little law and a vast deal of + gossip. + </p> + <p> + 2d. The head solicitor of the place got old and wanted a partner. Wheeler + bought himself in, and thenceforth took his share of a good business, and + by his energy enlarged it, though he never could found one for himself. + </p> + <p> + 3d. He married a wife. + </p> + <p> + 4th. She was a pretty woman, and blessed with jealousy of a just and + impartial nature: she was equally jealous of women, men, books, business—anything + that took her husband from her. + </p> + <p> + No more sleeping out at Highmore; no more protracted potations; no more + bachelor tricks for Wheeler. He still valued his old client and welcomed + him; but the venue was changed, so to speak. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett was kept waiting in the outer office; but when he did get + in he easily prevailed on Wheeler to send the next client or two to his + partner, and give him a full hearing. + </p> + <p> + Then he opened his business. “Well,” said he, “I've seen him at last!” + </p> + <p> + “Seen him? seen whom?” + </p> + <p> + “The boy they have set up to rob my boy of the estate. I've seen him, + Wheeler, seen him close; and HE'S AS BLACK AS MY HAT.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. + </h2> + <p> + WHEELER, instead of being thunder-stricken, said quietly, “Oh, is he? + Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles is lighter than I am: Lady Bassett has a skin like satin, and + red hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Red! say auburn gilt. I never saw such lovely hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Richard, impatiently, “then the boy has eyes like sloes, and + a brown skin, like an Italian, and black hair almost; it will be quite.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Wheeler, “it is not so very uncommon for a dark child to be + born of fair parents, or <i>vice versa.</i> I once saw an urchin that was + like neither father nor mother, but the image of his father's grandfather, + that died eighty years before he was born. They used to hold him up to the + portrait.” + </p> + <p> + Said Bassett, “Will you admit that it is uncommon?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so uncommon as for a high-bred lady, living in the country, and + adored by her husband, to trifle with her marriage vow, for that is what + you are driving at.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we have to decide between two improbabilities: will you grant me + that, Mr. Wheeler?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then suppose I can prove fact upon fact, and coincidence upon + coincidence, all tending one way! Are you so prejudiced that nothing will + convince you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But it will take a great deal: that lady's face is full of purity, + and she fought us like one who loved her husband.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fronti nulla fides:</i> and as for her fighting, her infidelity was + the weapon she defeated us with. Will you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; but pray stick to facts, and not conjectures.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't interrupt me with childish arguments: + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 1.</i>—Both reputed parents fair; the boy as black as the + ace of spades. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 2.</i>—A handsome young fellow was always buzzing about her + ladyship, and he was a parson, and ladies are remarkably fond of parsons. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 3.</i>—This parson was of Italian breed, dark, like the + boy. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 4.</i>—This dark young man left Huntercombe one week, and + my lady left it the next, and they were both in the city of Bath at one + time. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 5.</i>—The lady went from Bath to London. The dark young + man went from Bath to London.” + </p> + <p> + “None of this is new to me,” said Wheeler, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but it is the rule, in estimating coincidences, that each fresh one + multiplies the value of the others. Now the boy looking so Italian is a + new coincidence, and so is what I am going to tell you—at last I + have found the medical man who attended Lady Bassett in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; and I have learned <i>Fact 6.</i>—Her ladyship rented a + house, but hired no servants, and engaged no nurse. She had no attendant + but a lady's maid, no servant but a sort of charwoman. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 7.</i>—She dismissed this doctor unusually soon, and gave + him a very large fee. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 8.</i>—She concealed her address from her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! can you prove that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Sir Charles came up to town, and had to hunt for her, came to + this very medical man, and asked for the address his wife had not given + him; but lo! when he got there the bird was flown. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Fact 9.</i>—Following the same system of concealment, my lady + levanted from London within ten days of her confinement. + </p> + <p> + “Now put all these coincidences together. Don't you see that she had a + lover, and that he was about her in London and other places? Stop! <i>Fact + 10.</i>—Those two were married for years, and had no child but this + equivocal one; and now four years and a half have passed, during all which + time they have had none, and the young parson has been abroad during that + period.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler was staggered and perplexed by this artful array of coincidences. + </p> + <p> + “Now advise me,” said Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “It is not so easy. Of course if Sir Charles was to die, you could claim + the estate, and give them a great deal of pain and annoyance; but the + burden of proof would always rest on you. My advice is not to breathe a + syllable of this; but get a good detective, and push your inquiries a + little further among house agents, and the women they put into houses; + find that charwoman, and see if you can pick up anything more.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know such a thing as an able detective?” + </p> + <p> + “I know one that will work if I instruct him.” + </p> + <p> + “Instruct him, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. + </h2> + <h3> + LADY BASSETT, as her time of trial drew near, became despondent. + </h3> + <p> + She spoke of the future, and tried to pierce it; and in all these little + loving speculations and anxieties there was no longer any mention of + herself. + </p> + <p> + This meant that she feared her husband was about to lose her. I put the + fear in the very form it took in that gentle breast. + </p> + <p> + Possessed with this dread, so natural to her situation, she set her house + in order, and left her little legacies of clothes and jewels, without the + help of a lawyer; for Sir Charles, she knew, would respect her lightest + wish. + </p> + <p> + To him she left her all, except these trifles, and, above all—a + manuscript book. It was the history of her wedded life. Not the bare + outward history; but such a record of a sensitive woman's heart as no male + writer's pen can approach. + </p> + <p> + It was the nature of her face and her tongue to conceal; but here, on this + paper, she laid bare her heart; here her very subtlety operated, not to + hide, but to dissect herself and her motives. + </p> + <p> + But oh, what it cost her to pen this faithful record of her love, her + trials, her doubts, her perplexities, her agonies, her temptations, and + her crime! Often she laid down the pen, and hid her face in her hands. + Often the scalding tears ran down that scarlet face. Often she writhed at + her desk, and wrote on, sighing and moaning. Yet she persevered to the + end. It was the grave that gave her the power. “When he reads this,” she + said, “I shall be in my tomb. Men make excuses for the dead. My Charles + will forgive me when I am gone. He will know I loved him to desperation.” + </p> + <p> + It took her many days to write; it was quite a thick quarto; so much may a + woman feel in a year or two; and, need I say that, to the reader of that + volume, the mystery of her conduct was all made clear as daylight; clearer + far, as regards the revelation of mind and feeling, than I, dealer in + broad facts, shall ever make it, for want of a woman's mental microscope + and delicate brush. + </p> + <p> + And when this record was finished, she wrapped it in paper, and sealed it + with many seals, and wrote on it, + </p> + <p> + “Only for my husband's eye. From her who loved him not wisely, But too + well.” + </p> + <p> + And she took other means that even the superscription should never be seen + of any other eye but his. It was some little comfort to her, when the book + was written. + </p> + <p> + She never prayed to live. But she used to pray, fervently, piteously, that + her child might live, and be a comfort and joy to his father. + </p> + <p> + The person employed by Wheeler discovered the house agent, and the woman + he had employed. + </p> + <p> + But these added nothing to the evidence Bassett had collected. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, this woman, under the influence of a promised reward, + discovered a person who was likely to know more about the matter—viz., + the woman who was in the house with Lady Bassett at the very time. + </p> + <p> + But this woman scented gold directly: so she held mysterious language; + declined to say a word to the officer; but intimated that she knew a great + deal, and that the matter was, in truth, well worth looking into, and she + could tell some strange tales, if it was worth her while. + </p> + <p> + This information was sent to Bassett; he replied that the woman only + wanted money for her intelligence, and he did not blame her; he would see + her next time he went to town, and felt sure she would complete his chain + of evidence. This put Richard Bassett into extravagant spirits. He danced + his little boy on his knee, and said, “I'll run this little horse against + the parson's brat; five to one, and no takers.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, his exultation was so loud and extravagant that it jarred on + gentle Mrs. Bassett. As for Jessie, the Scotch servant, she shook her + head, and said the master was fey. + </p> + <p> + In the morning he started for London, still so exuberant and excited that + the Scotch woman implored her mistress not to let him go; there would be + an accident on the railway, or something. But Mrs. Bassett knew her + husband too well to interfere with his journeys. + </p> + <p> + Before he drove off he demanded his little boy. + </p> + <p> + “He must kiss me,” said he, “for I'm going to work for him. D'ye hear + that, Jane? This day makes him heir of Huntercombe and Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse brought word that Master Bassett was not very well this morning. + </p> + <p> + “Let us look at him,” said Bassett. + </p> + <p> + He got out of his gig, and went to the nursery. He found his little boy + had a dry cough, with a little flushing. + </p> + <p> + “It is not much,” said he; “but I'll send the doctor over from the town.” + </p> + <p> + He did so, and himself proceeded up to London. + </p> + <p> + The doctor came, and finding the boy labored in breathing, administered a + full dose of ipecacuanha. This relieved the child for the time; but about + four in the afternoon he was distressed again, and began to cough with a + peculiar grating sound. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a cry of dismay—“The croup!” The doctor was gone for, + and a letter posted to Richard Bassett, urging him to come back directly. + </p> + <p> + The doctor tried everything, even mercury, but could not check the fatal + discharge; it stiffened into a still more fatal membrane. + </p> + <p> + When Bassett returned next afternoon, in great alarm, he found the poor + child thrusting its fingers into its mouth, in a vain attempt to free the + deadly obstruction. + </p> + <p> + A warm bath and strong emetics were now administered, and great relief + obtained. The patient even ate and drank, and asked leave to get up and + play with a new toy he had. But, as often happens in this disorder, a + severe relapse soon came, with a spasm of the glottis so violent and + prolonged that the patient at last resigned the struggle. Then pain ceased + forever; the heavenly smile came; the breath went; and nothing was left in + the little white bed but a fair piece of tinted clay, that must return to + the dust, and carry thither all the pride, the hopes, the boasts of the + stricken father, who had schemed, and planned, and counted without Him in + whose hands are the issues of life and death. + </p> + <p> + As for the child himself, his lot was a happy one, if we could but see + what the world is really worth. He was always a bright child, that never + cried, nor complained: his first trouble was his last; one day's pain, + then bliss eternal: he never got poisoned by his father's spirit of hate, + but loved and was beloved during his little lifetime; and, dying, he + passed from his Noah's ark to an inheritance a thousand times richer than + Huntercombe, Bassett, and all his cousin's lands. + </p> + <p> + The little grave was dug, the bell tolled, and a man bowed double with + grief saw his child and his ambition laid in the dust. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett heard the bell tolled, and spoke but two words: “Poor woman!” + </p> + <p> + She might well say so. Mrs. Bassett was in the same condition as herself, + yet this heavy blow must fall on her. + </p> + <p> + As for Richard Bassett, he sat at home, bowed down and stupid with grief. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler came one day to console him; but, at the sight of him, refrained + from idle words. He sat down by him for an hour in silence. Then he got up + and said, “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, old friend, for not insulting me,” said Bassett, in a broken + voice. + </p> + <p> + Wheeler took his hand, and turned away his head, and so went away, with a + tear in his eye. + </p> + <p> + A fortnight after this he came again, and found Bassett in the same + attitude, but not in the same leaden stupor. On the contrary, he was in a + state of tremor; he had lost, under the late blow, the sanguine mind that + used to carry him through everything. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was upstairs, and his wife's fate trembled in the balance. + </p> + <p> + “Stay by me,” said he, “for all my nerve is gone. I'm afraid I shall lose + her; for I have just begun to value her; and that is how God deals with + his creatures—the merciful God, as they call him.” + </p> + <p> + Wheeler thought it rather hard God Almighty should be blamed because Dick + Bassett had taken eight years to find out his wife's merit; but he forbore + to say so. He said kindly that he would stay. + </p> + <p> + Now while they sat in trying suspense the church-bells struck up a merry + peal. + </p> + <p> + Bassett started violently and his eyes gave a strange glare. “That's the + other!” said he; for he had heard about Lady Bassett by this time. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned pale. “They ring for him: then they are sure to toll for + me.” + </p> + <p> + This foreboding was natural enough in a man so blinded by egotism as to + fancy that all creation, and the Creator himself, must take a side in + Bassett <i>v.</i> Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, events did not justify that foreboding. The bells had + scarcely done ringing for the happy event at Huntercombe, when joyful feet + were heard running on the stairs; joyful voices clashed together in the + passage, and in came a female servant with joyful tidings. Mrs. Bassett + was safe, and the child in the world. “The loveliest little girl you ever + saw!” + </p> + <p> + “A girl!” cried Richard Bassett with contemptuous amazement. Even his + melancholy forebodings had not gone that length. “And what have they got + at Huntercombe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is a boy, sir, there.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + The ringers heard, and sent one of their number to ask him if they should + ring. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” asked Bassett with a nasty glittering eye; and then with + sudden fury he seized a large piece of wood from the basket to fling at + his insulter. “I'll teach you to come and mock me.” + </p> + <p> + The ringer vanished, ducking. + </p> + <p> + “Gently,” said Wheeler, “gently.” + </p> + <p> + Bassett chucked the wood back into the basket, and sat down gloomily, + saying, “Then how dare he come and talk about ringing bells for a girl? To + think that I should have all this fright, and my wife all this trouble—for + a girl!” + </p> + <p> + It was no time to talk of business then; but about a fortnight afterward + Wheeler said, “I took the detective off, to save you expense.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” said Bassett, wearily. + </p> + <p> + “I gave you the woman's address; so the matter is in your hands now, I + consider.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bassett, wearily; “Move no further in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not; and, frankly, I should be glad to see you abandon it.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>have</i> abandoned it. Why should I stir the mud now? I and mine are + thrown out forever; the only question is, shall a son of Sir Charles or + the parson's son inherit? I'm for the wrongful heir. Ay,” he cried, + starting up, and beating the air with his fists in sudden fury, “since the + right Bassetts are never to have it, let the wrong Bassetts be thrown out, + at all events; I'm on my back, but Sir Charles is no better off; a bastard + will succeed him, thanks to that cursed woman who defeated <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + This turn took Wheeler by surprise. It also gave him real pain. “Bassett,” + said he, “I pity you. What sort of a life has yours been for the last + eight years? Yet, when there's no fuel left for war and hatred, you blow + the embers. You are incurable.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said Richard. “I'll hate those two with my last breath and curse + them in my last prayer.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. + </h2> + <p> + LADY BASSETT'S forebodings, like most of our insights into the future, + were confuted by the event. + </p> + <p> + She became the happy mother of a flaxen-haired boy. She insisted on + nursing him herself; and the experienced persons who attended her raised + no objection. + </p> + <p> + In connection with this she gave Sir Charles a peck, not very severe, but + sudden, and remarkable as the only one on record. + </p> + <p> + He was contemplating her and her nursling with the deepest affection, and + happened to say, “My own Bella, what delight it gives me to see you!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she, “we will have only one mother this time, will we, my + darling? and it shall be Me.” Then suddenly, turning her head like a + snake, “Oh, I saw the looks you gave that woman!” + </p> + <p> + This was the famous peck; administered in return for a look that he had + bestowed on Mary Gosport not more than five years ago. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles would, doubtless, have bled to death on the spot, but either + he had never been aware how he looked, or time and business had + obliterated the impression, for he was unaffectedly puzzled, and said, + “What woman do you mean, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, darling,” said Lady Bassett, who had already repented her dire + severity: “all I say is that a nurse is a rival I could not endure now; + and another thing, I do believe those wet-nurses give their disposition to + the child: it is dreadful to think of.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if so, baby is safe. He will be the most amiable boy in England.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall be more amiable than I am—scolding my husband of + husbands;” and she leaned toward him, baby and all, for a kiss from his + lips. + </p> + <p> + We say at school “Seniores priores”—let favor go by seniority; but + where babies adorn the scene, it is “juniores priores” with that sex to + which the very young are confided. + </p> + <p> + To this rule, as might be expected, Lady Bassett furnished no exception; + she was absorbed in baby, and trusted Mr. Bassett a good deal to his + attendant, who bore an excellent character for care and attention. + </p> + <p> + Now Mr. Bassett was strong on his pins and in his will, and his + nurse-maid, after all, was young; so he used to take his walks nearly + every day to Mrs. Meyrick's: she petted him enough, and spoiled him in + every way, while the nurse-maid was flirting with the farm-servants out of + sight. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles Bassett was devoted to the boy, and used always to have him to + his study in the morning, and to the drawing-room after dinner, when the + party was small, and that happened much oftener now than heretofore; but + at other hours he did not look after him, being a business man, and + considering him at that age to be under his mother's care. + </p> + <p> + One day the only guest was Mr. Rolfe; he was staying in the house for + three days, upon a condition suggested by himself—viz., that he + might enjoy his friends' society in peace and comfort, and not be set to + roll the stone of conversation up some young lady's back, and obtain + monosyllables in reply, faintly lisped amid a clatter of fourteen knives + and forks. As he would not leave his writing-table on any milder terms, + they took him on these. + </p> + <p> + After dinner in came Mr. Bassett, erect, and a proud nurse with little + Compton, just able to hold his nurse's gown and toddle. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe did not care for small children; he just glanced at the angelic, + fair-haired infant, but his admiring gaze rested on the elder boy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is here—an Oriental prince?” + </p> + <p> + The boy ran to him directly. “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Rolfe the writer. Who are you—the Gipsy King?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I am very fond of gypsies. I'm <i>Mister</i> Bassett; and when + papa dies I shall be Sir Charles Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles laughed at this with paternal fatuity, especially as the boy's + name happened to be Reginald Francis, after his grandfather. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe smiled satirically, for these little speeches from children did much + to reconcile him to his lot. + </p> + <p> + “Meantime,” said he, “let us feed off him; for it may be forty years + before we can dance over his grave. First let us see what is the + unwholesomest thing on the table.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, and to the infinite delight of Mr. Bassett, and even of Master + Compton, who pointed and crowed from his mother's lap, he got up on his + chair, and put on a pair of spectacles to look. + </p> + <p> + “Eureka!” said he; “behold that dish by Lady Bassett; those are <i>marrons + glaces;</i> fetch them here, and let us go in for a fit of the gout at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “Gout! what's that?” inquired Mr. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know. + </p> + <p> + “Not know! What, didn't I tell you I was Rolfe the writer? Writers know + everything. That is what makes them so modest.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett was now unnaturally silent for five minutes, munching + chestnuts; this enabled his guests to converse; but as soon as he had + cleared his plate, he cut right across the conversation, with that savage + contempt for all topics but his own which characterizes gentlemen of his + age, and says he to Rolfe, “You know everything? Then what's a parson's + brat?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the one thing I don't know,” said Rolfe; “but a brat I take + to be a boy who interrupts ladies and gentlemen with nonsense when they + are talking sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Rolfe,” said Lady Bassett. “That + remark was very much needed.” + </p> + <p> + Then she called Reginald to her, and lectured him, <i>sotto voce,</i> to + the same tune. + </p> + <p> + “You old bachelors are rather hard,” said Sir Charles, not very well + pleased. + </p> + <p> + “We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. After all, it is no + wonder. What a superb boy it is!—Here is nurse. I'm so sorry. Now we + shall be cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and I shall + not be expected to—(good-night, little flaxen angel; good-by, + handsome and loquacious demon; kiss and be friends)—expected to + know, all in a minute, what is a parson's brat. By-the-by, talking of + parsons, what has become of Angelo?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been away a good many years. Consumption, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a fine-built fellow too; was he not, Lady Bassett?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; but he was beautifully strong. I think I see him now + carrying dear Charles in his arms all down the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you see he was raised in a university that does not do things by + halves, but trains both body and mind, as they did at Athens; for the + union of study and athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it is + only a return to antiquity.” + </p> + <p> + Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir Charles glanced at his, + and sent them to his study. Lady Bassett had but one. She said, <i>“May</i> + I?” to both gentlemen, and then opened it. + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” said she. “It is from Mr. Angelo: just a line to say he is + coming home quite cured.” + </p> + <p> + She began this composedly, but blushed afterward—blushed quite red. + </p> + <p> + <i>“May</i> I?” said she, and tossed it delicately half-way to Rolfe. He + handed it to Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + Some remarks were then made about the coincidence, and nothing further + passed worth recording at that time. + </p> + <p> + Next day Lady Bassett, with instinctive curiosity, asked Master Reginald + how he came to put such a question as that to Mr. Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + “Because I wanted to know.” + </p> + <p> + “But what put such words into your head? I never heard a gentleman say + such words; and you must never say them again, Reginald.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what it means, and I won't,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Lady Bassett, “since you bargain with me, sir, I must bargain + with you. Tell me first where you ever heard such words.” + </p> + <p> + “When I was staying at nurse's. Ah, that was jolly.” + </p> + <p> + “You like that better than being here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for that. Well, dear, did nurse say that? Surely not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; it was the man.” + </p> + <p> + “What man?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the man that came to the gate one morning, and talked to me, and I + talked to him, and that nasty nurse ran out and caught us, and carried me + in, and gave me such a hiding, and all for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “A hiding! What words the poor child picks up! But I don't understand why + nurse should beat <i>you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “For speaking to the man. She said he was a bad man, and she would kill me + if ever I spoke to him again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was a bad man, and said bad words—to somebody he was + quarreling with?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he said them to nurse because she took me away.” + </p> + <p> + “What <i>did</i> he say, Reginald?” asked Lady Bassett, becoming very + grave and thoughtful all at once. + </p> + <p> + “He said, 'That's too late; I've seen the parson's brat.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “And I've asked nurse again and again what it meant, but she won't tell + me. She only says the man is a liar, and I am not to say it again; and so + I never did say it again—for a long time; but last night, when Rolfe + the writer said he knew everything, it struck my head—what is the + matter, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You look so white. Are you ill, mamma?” and he went to put his arms round + her, which was a mighty rare thing with him. + </p> + <p> + She trembled a good deal, and did not either embrace him or repel him. She + only trembled. + </p> + <p> + After some time she recovered herself enough to say, in a voice and with a + manner that impressed itself at once on this sharp boy: “Reginald, your + nurse was quite right. Understand this: the man was your enemy—and + mine; the words he said you must not say again. It would be like taking up + dirt and flinging some on your own face and some on mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't do that,” said the boy, firmly. “Are you afraid of the man that + you look so white?” + </p> + <p> + “A man with a woman's tongue—who can help fearing?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be afraid; as soon as I'm big enough, I'll kill him.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked with surprise at the child, he uttered this resolve + with such a steady resolution. + </p> + <p> + She drew him to her, and kissed him on the forehead. + </p> + <p> + “No, Reginald,” said she; “we must not shed blood; it is as wicked to kill + our enemies as to kill any one else. But never speak to him, never even + listen to him; if he tries to speak to you, run away from him, and don't + let him—he is our enemy.” + </p> + <p> + That same day she went to Mrs. Meyrick, to examine her. But she found the + boy had told her all there was to tell. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick, whose affection for her was not diminished, was downright + vexed. “Dear me!” said she; “I did think I had kept that from vexing of + you. To think of the dear child hiding it for nigh two years, and then to + blurt it out like that! Nobody heard him I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Others heard; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't heed; the Lord be praised for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Lady Bassett, solemnly, “I am not equal to another battle + with Mr. Richard Bassett; and such a battle! Better tell all, and die.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of it,” said Mary. “You're safe from Richard Bassett now. + Times are changed since he came spying to my gate. His own boy is gone. + You have got two. He'll lie still if you do. But if you tell your tale, he + must hear on't, and he'll tell his. For God's sake, my lady, keep close. + It is the curse of women that they can't just hold their tongues, and see + how things turn. And is this a time to spill good liquor? Look at Sir + Charles! why, he is another man; he have got flesh on his bones now, and + color into his cheeks, and 'twas you and I made a man of him. It is my + belief you'd never have had this other little angel but for us having + sense and courage to see what <i>must</i> be done. Knock down our own + work, and send him wild again, and give that Richard Bassett a handle? + You'll never be so mad.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett replied. The other answered; and so powerfully that Lady + Bassett yielded, and went home sick at heart, but helpless, and in a sea + of doubt. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo did not call. Sir Charles asked Lady Bassett if he had called + on her. + </p> + <p> + She said “No.” + </p> + <p> + “That is odd,” said Sir Charles. “Perhaps he thinks we ought to welcome + him home. Write and ask him to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. Or you can write.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I will. No, I will call.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles called, and welcomed him home, and asked him to dinner. Angelo + received him rather stiffly at first, but accepted his invitation. + </p> + <p> + He came, looking a good deal older and graver, but almost as handsome as + ever; only somewhat changed in mind. He had become a zealous clergyman, + and his soul appeared to be in his work. He was distant and very + respectful to Lady Bassett; I might say obsequious. Seemed almost afraid + of her at first. + </p> + <p> + That wore off in a few months; but he was never quite so much at his ease + with her as he had been before he left some years ago. + </p> + <p> + And so did time roll on. + </p> + <p> + Every morning and every night Lady Bassett used to look wistfully at Sir + Charles, and say— + </p> + <p> + “Are you happy, dear? Are you sure you are happy?” + </p> + <p> + And he used always to say, and with truth, that he was the happiest man in + England, thanks to her. + </p> + <p> + Then she used to relax the wild and wistful look with which she asked the + question, and give a sort of sigh, half content, half resignation. + </p> + <p> + In due course another fine boy came, and filled the royal office of baby + in his turn. + </p> + <p> + But my story does not follow him. + </p> + <p> + Reginald was over ten years old, and Compton nearly six. They were as + different in character as complexion—both remarkable boys. + </p> + <p> + Reginald, Sir Charles's favorite, was a wonderful boy for riding, running, + talking; and had a downright genius for melody; he whistled to the + admiration of the village, and latterly he practiced the fiddle in woods + and under hedges, being aided and abetted therein by a gypsy boy whom he + loved, and who, indeed, provided the instrument. + </p> + <p> + He rode with Sir Charles, and rather liked him; his brother he never + noticed, except to tease him. Lady Bassett he admired, and almost loved + her while she was in the act of playing him undeniable melodies. But he + liked his nurse Meyrick better, on the whole; she flattered him more, and + was more uniformly subservient. + </p> + <p> + With these two exceptions he despised the whole race of women, and + affected male society only, especially of grooms, stable-boys, and + gypsies; these last welcomed him to their tents, and almost prostrated + themselves before him, so dazzled were they by his beauty and his color. + It is believed they suspected him of having gypsy blood in his veins. They + let him into their tents, and even into some of their secrets, and he + promised them they should have it all their own way as soon as he was Sir + Reginald; he had outgrown his original theory that he was to be Sir + Charles on his father's death. + </p> + <p> + He hated in-doors; when fixed by command to a book, would beg hard to be + allowed to take it into the sun; and at night would open his window and + poke his black head out to wash in the moonshine, as he said. + </p> + <p> + He despised ladies and gentlemen, said they were all affected fools, and + gave imitations of all his father's guests to prove it; and so keen was + this child of nature's eye for affectation that very often his + disapproving parents were obliged to confess the imp had seen with his + fresh eye defects custom had made them overlook, or the solid good + qualities that lay beneath had overbalanced. + </p> + <p> + Now all this may appear amusing and eccentric, and so on, to strangers; + but after the first hundred laughs or so with which paternal indulgence + dismisses the faults of childhood, Sir Charles became very grave. + </p> + <p> + The boy was his darling and his pride. He was ambitious for him. He + earnestly desired to solve for him a problem which is as impossible as + squaring the circle, viz., how to transmit our experience to our children. + The years and the health he had wasted before he knew Bella Bruce, these + he resolved his successor should not waste. He looked higher for this + beautiful boy than for himself. He had fully resolved to be member for the + county one day; but he did not care about it for himself; it was only to + pave the way for his successor; that Sir Reginald, after a long career in + the Commons, might find his way into the House of Peers, and so obtain + dignity in exchange for antiquity; for, to tell the truth, the ancestors + of four-fifths of the British House of Peers had been hewers of wood and + drawers of water at a time when these Bassetts had already been gentlemen + of distinction for centuries. + </p> + <p> + All this love and this vicarious ambition were now mortified daily. Some + fathers could do wonders for a brilliant boy, and with him; they expect + him, and a dull boy appears; that is a bitter pill; but this was worse. + Reginald was a sharp boy; he could do anything; fasten him to a book for + twenty minutes, he would learn as much as most boys in an hour; but there + was no keeping him to it, unless you strapped him or nailed him, for he + had the will of a mule, and the suppleness of an eel to carry out his + will. And then his tastes—low as his features were refined; he was a + sort of moral dung-fork; picked up all the slang of the stable and + scattered it in the dining-room and drawing-room; and once or twice he + stole out of his comfortable room at night, and slept in a gypsy's tent + with his arm round a gypsy boy, unsullied from his cradle by soap. + </p> + <p> + At last Sir Charles could no longer reply to his wife at night as he had + done for this ten years past. He was obliged to confess that there was one + cloud upon his happiness. “Dear Reginald grieves me, and makes me dread + the future; for if the child is father to the man, there is a bitter + disappointment in store for us. He is like no other boy; he is like no + human creature I ever saw. At his age, and long after, I was a fool; I was + a fool till I knew you; but surely I was a gentleman. I cannot see myself + again—in my first-born.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. + </h2> + <p> + LADY BASSETT was paralyzed for a minute or two by this speech. At last she + replied by asking a question—rather a curious one. “Who nursed you, + Charles?” + </p> + <p> + “What, when I was a baby? How can I tell? Yes, by-the-by, it was my mother + nursed me—so I was told.” + </p> + <p> + “And your mother was a Le Compton. This poor boy was nursed by a servant. + Oh, she has some good qualities, and is certainly devoted to us—to + this day her face brightens at sight of me—but she is essentially + vulgar; and do you remember, Charles, I wished to wean him early; but I + was overruled, and the poor child drew his nature from that woman for + nearly eighteen months; it is a thing unheard of nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but surely it is from our parents we draw our nature.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I think it is from our nurses. If Compton or Alec ever turn out like + Reginald, blame nobody but their nurse, and that is Me.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles smiled faintly at this piece of feminine logic, and asked her + what he should do. + </p> + <p> + She said she was quite unable to advise. Mr. Rolfe was coming to see them + soon; perhaps he might be able to suggest something. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles said he would consult him; but he was clear on one thing—the + boy must be sent from Huntercombe, and so separated from all his present + acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe came, and the distressed father opened his heart to him in + strict confidence respecting Reginald. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe listened and sympathized, and knit his brow, and asked time to + consider what he had heard, and also to study the boy for himself. + </p> + <p> + He angled for him next day accordingly. A little table was taken out on + the lawn, and presently Mr. Rolfe issued forth in a uniform suit of dark + blue flannel and a sombrero hat, and set to work writing a novel in the + sun. + </p> + <p> + Reginald in due course descried this figure, and it smacked so of that + Bohemia to which his own soul belonged that he was attracted thereby, but + made his approaches stealthily, like a little cat. + </p> + <p> + Presently a fiddle went off behind a tree, so close that the novelist + leaped out of his seat with an eldrich screech; for he had long ago + forgotten all about Mr. Reginald, and, when he got heated in this kind of + composition, any sudden sound seemed to his tense nerves and boiling brain + about ten times as loud as it really was. + </p> + <p> + Having relieved himself with a yell, he sat down with the mien of a martyr + expecting tortures; but he was most agreeably disappointed; the little + monster played an English melody, and played it in tune. This done, he + whistled a quick tune, and played a slow second to it in perfect harmony; + this done, he whistled the second part and played the quick treble—a + very simple feat, but still ingenious for a boy, and new to his hearer. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! bravo!” cried Rolfe, with all his heart, + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reginald emerged, radiant with vanity. “You are like me, Mr. Writer,” + said he; “you don't like to be cooped up in-doors.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could play the fiddle like you, my fine fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you can't do that all in a minute; see the time I have been at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, to be sure, I forgot your antiquity.” + </p> + <p> + “And it isn't the time only; it's giving your mind to it, old chap.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you don't give your mind to your books, then, as you do to your + fiddle, <i>young gentleman?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Not such a flat. Why, lookee here, governor, if you go and give your mind + to a thing you don't like, it's always time wasted, because some other + chap, that does like it, will beat you, and what's the use working for to + be beat?” + </p> + <p> + “'For' is redundant,” objected Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + “But if you stick hard to the things you like, you do 'em downright well. + But old people are such fools, they always drive you the wrong way. They + make the gals play music six hours a day, and you might as well set the + hen bullfinches to pipe. Look at the gals as come here, how they rattle up + and down the piano, and can't make it sing a morsel. Why, they <i>couldn't</i> + rattle like that, if they'd music in their skins, d—n 'em; and they + drive me to those stupid books, because I'm all for music and moonshine. + Can you keep a secret?” + </p> + <p> + “As the tomb.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I can do plenty of things well, besides fiddling; I can set a + wire with any poacher in the parish. I have caught plenty of our old man's + hares in my time; and it takes a workman to set a wire as it should be. + Show me a wire, and I'll tell you whether it was Hudson, or Whitbeck, or + Squinting Jack, or who it was that set it. I know all their work that + walks by moonlight hereabouts.” + </p> + <p> + “This is criticism; a science; I prefer art; play me another tune, my bold + Bohemian.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I thought I should catch ye with my fiddle. You're not such a muff as + the others, old 'un, not by a long chalk. Hang me if I won't give ye + 'Ireland's music,' and I've sworn never to waste that on a fool.” + </p> + <p> + He played the old Irish air so simply and tunably that Rolfe leaned back + in his chair, with half closed eyes, in soft voluptuous ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + The youngster watched him with his coal-black eye. + </p> + <p> + “I like you,” said he, “better than I thought I should, a precious sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Highly flattered.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, and hear my nurse sing it.” + </p> + <p> + “What, and leave my novel?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother your novel.” + </p> + <p> + “And so I will. That will be tit for tat; it has bothered me. Lead on, + Bohemian bold.” + </p> + <p> + The boy took him, over hedge and ditch, the short-cut to Meyrick's farm; + and caught Mrs. Meyrick, and said she must sing “Ireland's music” to Rolfe + the writer. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick apologized for her dress, and affected shyness about singing: + Mr. Reginald stared at first, then let her know that, if she was going to + be affected like the girls that came to the Hall, he should hate her, as + he did them, and this he confirmed with a naughty word. + </p> + <p> + Thus threatened, she came to book, and sang Ireland's melody in a low, + rich, sonorous voice; Reginald played a second; the harmony was so perfect + and strong that certain glass candelabra on the mantel-piece rang loudly, + and the drops vibrated. Then he made her sing the second, and he took the + treble with his violin; and he wound up by throwing in a third part + himself, a sort of countertenor, his own voice being much higher than the + woman's. + </p> + <p> + The tears stood in Rolfe's eyes. “Well,” said he, “you have got the soul + of music, you two. I could listen to you 'From morn till noon, from noon + till dewy eve.'” + </p> + <p> + As they returned to Huntercombe, this mercurial youth went off at a + tangent, and Rolfe saw him no more. + </p> + <p> + He wrote in peace, and walked about between the heats. + </p> + <p> + Just before dinner-time the screams of women were heard hard by, and the + writer hurried to the place in time to see Mr. Basset hanging by the + shoulder from the branch of a tree, about twenty feet from the ground. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe hallooed, as he ran, to the women, to fetch blankets to catch him, + and got under the tree, determined to try and catch him in his arms, if + necessary; but he encouraged the boy to hold on. + </p> + <p> + “All right, governor,” said the boy, in a quavering voice. + </p> + <p> + It was very near the kitchen; maids and men poured out with blankets; + eight people held one, under Rolfe's direction, and down came Mr. Bassett + in a semicircle, and bounded up again off the blanket, like an + India-rubber ball. + </p> + <p> + His quick mind recovered courage the moment he touched wool. + </p> + <p> + “Crikey! that's jolly,” said he; “give me another toss or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no! no!” said a good-natured maid. “Take an' put him to bed right off, + poor dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, ye bitch,” said young hopeful; “if ye don't toss me, + I'll turn ye all off, as soon as ever the old un kicks the bucket.” + </p> + <p> + Thus menaced, they thought it prudent to toss him; but, at the third toss, + he yelled out, “Oh! oh! oh! I'm all wet; it's blood! I'm dead!” + </p> + <p> + Then they examined, and found his arm was severely lacerated by an old + nail that had been driven into the tree, and it had torn the flesh in his + fall: he was covered with blood, the sight of which quenched his manly + spirit, and he began to howl. + </p> + <p> + “Old linen rag, warm water, and a bottle of champagne,” shouted Rolfe: the + servants flew. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe dressed and bandaged the wound for him, and then he felt faint: the + champagne soon set that right; and then he wanted to get drunk, alleging, + as a reason, that he had not been drunk for this two months. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was told of the accident, and was distressed by it, and also + by the cause. + </p> + <p> + “Rolfe,” said he, sorrowfully, “there is a ring-dove's nest on that tree: + she and hers have built there in peace and safety for a hundred years, and + cooed about the place. My unhappy boy was climbing the tree to take the + young, after solemnly promising me he never would: that is the bitter + truth. What shall I do with the young barbarian?” + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and Lady Bassett echoed the sigh. + </p> + <p> + Said Rolfe, “The young barbarian, as you call him, has disarmed me: he + plays the fiddle like a civilized angel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Rolfe!” + </p> + <p> + “What, you his mother, and not found that out yet? Oh yes, he has a + heaven-born genius for music.” + </p> + <p> + Rolfe then related the musical feats of the urchin. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles begged to observe that this talent would go a very little way + toward fitting him to succeed his father and keep up the credit of an + ancient family. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Charles, Mr. Rolfe knows that; but it is like him to make the best + of things, to encourage us. But what do you think of him, on the whole, + Mr. Rolfe? has Sir Charles more to hope or to fear?” + </p> + <p> + “Give me another day or two to study him,” said Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + That night there was a loud alarm. Mr. Bassett was running about the + veranda in his night-dress. + </p> + <p> + They caught him and got him to bed, and Rolfe said it was fever; and, with + the assistance of Sir Charles and a footman, laid him between two towels + steeped in tepid water, then drew blankets tight over him, and, in short, + packed him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, complacently; “I say, give me a drink of moonshine, old + chap.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you a bucketful,” said Rolfe; then, with the servant's help, + took his little bed and put it close to the window; the moonlight streamed + in on the boy's face, his great black eyes glittered in it. He was + diabolically beautiful. “Kiss me, moonshine,” said he; “I like to wash in + you.” + </p> + <p> + Next day he was, apparently, quite well, and certainly ripe for fresh + mischief. Rolfe studied him, and, the evening before he went, gave Sir + Charles and Lady Bassett his opinion, but not with his usual alacrity; a + weight seemed to hang on him, and, more than once, his voice trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell you,” said he, “what I see—what I foresee—and + then, with great diffidence, what I advise. + </p> + <p> + “I see—what naturalists call a reversion in race, a boy who + resembles in color and features neither of his parents, and, indeed, bears + little resemblance to any of the races that have inhabited England since + history was written. He suggests rather some Oriental type.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles turned round in his chair, with a sigh, and said, “We are to + have a romance, it seems.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett stared with all her eyes, and began to change color. + </p> + <p> + The theorist continued, with perfect composure, “I don't undertake to + account for it with any precision. How can I? Perhaps there is Moorish + blood in your family, and here it has revived; you look incredulous, but + there are plenty of examples, ay, and stronger than this: every child that + is born resembles some progenitor; how then do you account for Julia + Pastrana, a young lady who dined with me last week, and sang me 'Ah + perdona,' rather feebly, in the evening? Bust and figure like any other + lady, hand exquisite, arms neatly turned, but with long, silky hair from + the elbow to the wrist. Face, ugh! forehead made of black leather, eyes + all pupil, nose an excrescence, chin pure monkey, face all covered with + hair; briefly, a type extinct ten thousand years before Adam, yet it could + revive at this time of day. Compared with La Pastrana, and many much + weaker examples of antiquity revived, that I have seen, your Mauritanian + son is no great marvel, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a <i>little</i> too far-fetched,” said Sir Charles, satirically; + “Bella's father was a very dark man, and it is a tradition in our family + that all the Bassetts were as black as ink till they married with you + Rolfes, in the year 1684.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” said Rolfe, “is it so? See how discussion brings out things.” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said Lady Bassett, “Charles dear, tell Mr. Rolfe what I + think.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, do,” said Rolfe; “that will be a new form of circumlocution.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles complied, with a smile. “Lady Bassett's theory is, that + children derive their nature quite as much from their wet-nurses as from + their parents, and she thinks the faults we deplore in Reginald are to be + traced to his nurse; by-the-by, she is a dark woman too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Rolfe, “there's a good deal of truth in that, as far as + regards the disposition. But I never heard color so accounted for; yet why + not? It has been proved that the very bones of young animals can be + colored pink, by feeding them on milk so colored.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “But no nurse could give your son a color which is not her own. I have + seen the woman; she is only a dark Englishwoman. Her arms were embrowned + by exposure, but her forehead was not brown. Mr. Reginald is quite another + thing. The skin of his body, the white of his eye, the pupil, all look + like a reversion to some Oriental type; and, mark the coincidence, he has + mental peculiarities that point toward the East.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles lost patience. “On the contrary,” said he, “he talks and feels + just like an English snob, and makes me miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that, he has picked up vulgar phrases at that farm, and in your + stables; but he never picked up his musical genius in stables and farms, + far less his poetry.” + </p> + <p> + “What poetry?” + </p> + <p> + “What poetry? Why, did not you hear him? Was it not poetical of a wounded, + fevered boy to beg to be laid by the window, and to say 'Let me drink the + moonshine?' Take down your Homer, and read a thousand lines haphazard, and + see whether you stumble over a thought more poetical than that. But + criticism does not exist: whatever the dead said was good; whatever the + living say is little; as if the dead were a race apart, and had never been + the living, and the living would never be the dead.” + </p> + <p> + Heaven knows where he was running to now, but Sir Charles stopped him by + conceding that point. “Well you are right: poor child, it was poetical,” + and the father's pride predominated, for a moment, over every other + sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but where did it come from? That looks to me a typical idea; I mean + an idea derived, not from his luxurious parents, dwellers in curtained + mansions, but from some out-door and remote ancestor; perhaps from the + Oriental tribe that first colonized Britain; they worshiped the sun and + the moon, no doubt; or perhaps, after all, it only came from some + wandering tribe that passed their lives between the two lights of heaven, + and never set foot in a human dwelling.” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Sir Charles, “is a flattering speculation, but so wild and + romantic that I fear it will lead us to no practical result. I thought you + undertook to advise me. What advice can you build on these cobwebs of your + busy brain?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, my practical friend,” said Rolfe. “I opened my discourse in + three heads. What I see—what I foresee—and what, with + diffidence, I advise. Pray don't disturb my methods, or I am done for; + never disturb an artist's form. I have told you what I see. What I foresee + is this: you will have to cut off the entail with Reginald's consent, when + he is of age, and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cutting off + entails runs in families, like everything else; your grandfather did it, + and so will you. You should put by a few thousands every year, that you + may be able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental or your + Saxon son.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken voice, “He is my + first-born, and my idol; his coming into the world rescued me out of a + morbid condition: he healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and put + his younger brother in his place—never!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the subject, which, indeed, + could be carried no farther without serious offense. + </p> + <p> + “And now for my advice. The question is, how to educate this strange boy. + One thing is clear; it is no use trying the humdrum plan any longer; it + has been tried, and failed. I should adapt his education to his nature. + Education is made as stiff and unyielding as a board; but it need not be. + I should abolish that spectacled tutor of yours at once, and get a tutor, + young, enterprising, manly, and supple, who would obey orders; and the + order should be to observe the boy's nature, and teach accordingly. Why + need men teach in a chair, and boys learn in a chair? The Athenians + studied not in chairs. The Peripatetics, as their name imports, hunted + knowledge afoot; those who sought truth in the groves of Academus were not + seated at that work. Then let the tutor walk with him, and talk with him + by sunlight and moonlight, relating old history, and commenting on each + new thing that is done, or word spoken, and improve every occasion. Why, I + myself would give a guinea a day to walk with William White about the + kindly aspects and wooded slopes of Selborne, or with Karr about his + garden. Cut Latin and Greek clean out of the scheme. They are mere cancers + to those who can never excel in them. Teach him not dead languages, but + living facts. Have him in your justice-room for half an hour a day, and + give him your own comments on what he has heard there. Let his tutor take + him to all Quarter Sessions and Assizes, and stick to him like diaculum, + especially out-of-doors; order him never to be admitted to the + stable-yard; dismiss every biped there that lets him come. Don't let him + visit his nurse so often, and never without his tutor; it was she who + taught him to look forward to your decease; that is just like these common + women. Such a tutor as I have described will deserve 500 pounds a year. + Give it him; and dismiss him if he plays humdrum and doesn't earn it. + Dismiss half a dozen, if necessary, till you get a fellow with a grain or + two of genius for tuition. When the boy is seventeen, what with his + Oriental precocity, and this system of education, he will know the world + as well as a Saxon boy of twenty-one, and that is not saying much. Then, + if his nature is still as wild, get him a large tract in Australia; cattle + to breed, kangaroos to shoot, swift horses to thread the bush and gallop + mighty tracts; he will not shirk business, if it avoids the repulsive form + of sitting down in-doors, and offers itself in combination with riding, + hunting, galloping, cracking of rifles, and of colonial whips as loud as + rifles, and drinking sunshine and moonshine in that mellow clime, beneath + the Southern Cross and the spangled firmament of stars unknown to us.” + </p> + <p> + His own eyes sparkled like hot coals at this Bohemian picture. + </p> + <p> + Then he sighed and returned to civilization. “But,” said he, “be ready + with eighty thousand pounds for him, that he may enjoy his own way and + join you in barring the entail. I forgot, I must say no more on that + subject; I see it is as offensive—as it is inevitable. Cassandra has + spoken wisely, and, I see, in vain. God bless you both—good-night.” + </p> + <p> + And he rolled out of the room with a certain clumsy importance. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles treated all this advice with a polite forbearance while he was + in the room, but on his departure delivered a sage reflection. + </p> + <p> + “Strange,” said he, “that a man so valuable in any great emergency should + be so extravagant and eccentric in the ordinary affairs of life. I might + as well drive to Bellevue House and consult the first gentleman I met + there.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett did not reply immediately, and Sir Charles observed that her + face was very red and her hands trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Bella,” said he, “has all that rhodomontade upset you?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked frightened at his noticing her agitation, and said + that Mr. Rolfe always overpowered her. “He is so large, and so confident, + and throws such new light on things.” + </p> + <p> + “New light! Wild eccentricity always does that; but it is the light of + Jack-o'-lantern. On a great question, so near my heart as this, give me + the steady light of common sense, not the wayward coruscations of a fiery + imagination. Bella dear, I shall send the boy to a good school, and so cut + off at one blow all the low associations that have caused the mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “You know what is best, dear,” said Lady Bassett; “you are wiser than any + of us.” + </p> + <p> + In the morning she got hold of Mr. Rolfe, and asked him if he could put + her in the way of getting more than three per cent for her money <i>without + risk.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Only one,” said.Rolfe. “London freeholds in rising situations let to + substantial tenants. I can get you five per cent that way, if you are + always ready to buy. The thing does not offer every day.” + </p> + <p> + “I have twenty thousand pounds to dispose of so,” said Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Rolfe. “I'll look out for you, but Oldfield must examine + titles and do the actual business. The best of that investment is, it is + always improving; no ups and downs. Come,” thought he, “Cassandra has not + spoken quite in vain.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles acted on his judgment, and in due course sent Mr. Bassett to a + school at some distance, kept by a clergyman, who had the credit in that + county of exercising sharp supervision and strict discipline. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles made no secret of the boy's eccentricities. Mr. Beecher said + he had one or two steady boys who assisted him in such cases. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles thought that a very good idea; it was like putting a wild colt + into the break with a steady horse. + </p> + <p> + He missed the boy sadly at first, but comforted himself with the + conviction that he had parted with him for his good: that consoled him + somewhat. + </p> + <p> + The younger children of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were educated + entirely by their mother, and taught as none but a loving lady can teach. + </p> + <p> + Compton, with whom we have to do, never knew the thorns with which the + path of letters is apt to be strewn. A mistress of the great art of + pleasing made knowledge from the first a primrose path to him. Sparkling + all over with intelligence, she impregnated her boy with it. She made + herself his favorite companion; she would not keep her distance. She stole + and coaxed knowledge and goodness into his heart and mind with rare and + loving cunning. + </p> + <p> + She taught him English and French and Latin on the Hamiltonian plan, and + stored his young mind with history and biography, and read to him, and + conversed with him on everything as they read it. + </p> + <p> + She taught him to speak the truth, and to be honorable and just. + </p> + <p> + She taught him to be polite, and even formal, rather than free-and-easy + and rude. She taught him to be a man. He must not be what brave boys + called a molly-coddle: like most womanly women, she had a veneration for + man, and she gave him her own high idea of the manly character. + </p> + <p> + Natural ability, and habitual contact with a mind so attractive and so + rich, gave this intelligent boy many good ideas beyond his age. + </p> + <p> + When he was six years old, Lady Bassett made him pass his word of honor + that he would never go into the stable-yard; and even then he was far + enough advanced to keep his word religiously. + </p> + <p> + In return for this she let him taste some sweets of liberty, and was not + always after him. She was profound enough to see that without liberty a + noble character cannot be formed; and she husbanded the curb. + </p> + <p> + One day he represented to her that, in the meadow next their lawn, were + great stripes of yellow, which were possibly cowslips; of course they + might be only buttercups, but he hoped better things of them; he further + reported that there was an iron gate between him and this paradise: he + could get over it if not objectionable; but he thought it safest to ask + her what she thought of the matter; was that iron gate intended to keep + little boys from the cowslips, because, if so, it was a misfortune to + which he must resign himself. Still, it <i>was</i> a misfortune. All this, + of course, in the simple language of boyhood. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Bassett smiled, and said, “Suppose I were to lend you a key of + that iron gate?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “I have a great mind to.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will, you will.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that follow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes: whenever you say you think you'll do something kind, or you have a + great mind to do it, you know you always do it; and that is one thing I do + like you for, mamma—you are better than your word.” + </p> + <p> + “Better than my word? Where does the child learn these things?” + </p> + <p> + “La, mamma, papa says that often.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that accounts for it. I like the phrase very much. I wish I could + think I deserved it. At any rate, I will be as good as my word for once; + you shall have a key of the gate.” + </p> + <p> + The boy clapped his hands with delight. The key was sent for, and, + meantime, she told him one reason why she had trusted him with it was + because he had been as good as his word about the stable. + </p> + <p> + The key was brought, and she held it up half playfully, and said, “There, + sir, I deliver you this upon conditions: you must only use it when the + weather is quite dry, because the grass in the meadow is longer, and will + be wet. Do you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “And you must always lock the gate when you come back, and bring the key + to one place—let me see—the drawer in the hall table, the one + with marble on it; for you know a place for every thing is our rule. On + these conditions, I hereby deliver you this magic key, with the right of + egress and ingress.” + </p> + <p> + “Egress and ingress?” + </p> + <p> + “Egress and ingress.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that foreign for cowslips, mamma—and oxlips?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! the child's head is full of cowslips. There is the dictionary; + look out Egress, and afterward look out Ingress.” + </p> + <p> + When he had added these two words to his little vocabulary, his mother + asked him if he would be good enough to tell her why he did not care much + about all the beautiful flowers in the garden, and was so excited about + cowslips, which appeared to her a flower of no great beauty, and the smell + rather sickly, begging his pardon. + </p> + <p> + This question posed him dreadfully: he looked at her in a sort of comic + distress, and then sat gravely down all in a heap, about a yard off, to + think. + </p> + <p> + Finally he turned to her with a wry face, and said, “Why <i>do</i> I, + mamma?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled deliciously. “No, no, sir,” said she. “How can I get inside + your little head and tell what is there? There must be a reason, I + suppose; and you know you and I are never satisfied till we get at the + reason of a thing. But there is no hurry, dear. I give you a week to find + it out. Now, run and open the gate—stay, are there any cows in that + field?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, mamma; but they have no horns, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon your word?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then run away, darling. But you must come and hunt me up, and tell me how + you enjoyed yourself, because that makes me happy, you know.” + </p> + <p> + This is mawkish; but it will serve to show on what terms the woman and boy + were. + </p> + <p> + On second thoughts, I recall that apology, and defy creation. “THE + MAWKISH” is a branch of literature, a great and popular one, and I have + neglected it savagely. + </p> + <p> + Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world was all before him + where to choose. + </p> + <p> + He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so attracted him. Horror! it + was all buttercups and deil a cowslip. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty of that delightful + flower scattered about the meadow in thinner patches; and he gathered a + double handful and dirtied his knees. + </p> + <p> + Returning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was accosted by a + fluty voice. + </p> + <p> + “Little boy!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up, and saw a girl standing on the lower bar of a little wooden + gate painted white, looking over. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Please</i> bring me my ball,” said she, pathetically. + </p> + <p> + Compton looked about; and saw a soft ball of many colors lying near. + </p> + <p> + He put down his cowslips gravely, and, brought her the ball. He gave it + her with a blush, because she was a strange girl; and she blushed a + little, because he did. + </p> + <p> + He returned to his cowslips. + </p> + <p> + “Little boy!” said the voice, “please bring me my ball again.” + </p> + <p> + He brought it her, with undisturbed politeness. She was giggling; he + laughed too, at that. + </p> + <p> + “You did it on purpose that time,” said he, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “La! you don't think I'd be so wicked,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Compton shook his head doubtfully, and, considering the interview at an + end turned to go, when instantly the ball knocked his hat off, and nothing + of the malefactress was visible but a black eye sparkling with fun and + mischief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of the wall. + </p> + <p> + This being a challenge, Compton said, “Now you come out after that, and + stand a shot, like a man.” + </p> + <p> + The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit; the only thing she + put out was her hand, and that she drew in, with a laugh, the moment he + threw at it. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture a voice cried, “Ruperta! what are you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, implying that he was + to run away; and she herself walked demurely toward the person who had + called her. + </p> + <p> + It was three days before Compton saw her again, and then she beckoned him + royally to her. + </p> + <p> + “Little boy,” said she, “talk to me.” + </p> + <p> + Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “Stand on this gate, like me, and talk,” said she. + </p> + <p> + He obeyed the first part of this mandate, and stood on the lower bar of + the little gate; so their two figures made a V, when they hung back, and a + tenpenny nail when they came forward and met, and this motion they + continued through the dialogue; and it was a pity the little wretches + could not keep still, and send for my friend the English Titian: for, when + their heads were in position, it was indeed a pretty picture of childish + and flower-like beauty and contrast; the boy fair, blue-eyed, and with + exquisite golden hair; the girl black-eyed, black-browed, and with + eyelashes of incredible length and beauty, and a cheek brownish, but + tinted, and so glowing with health and vigor that, pricked with a needle, + it seemed ready to squirt carnation right into your eye. + </p> + <p> + She dazzled Master Compton so that he could do nothing but look at her. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said she, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied he, pretending her “well” was not an interrogatory, but a + concise statement, and that he had discharged the whole duty of man by + according a prompt and cheerful consent. + </p> + <p> + “You begin,” said the lady. + </p> + <p> + “No, you.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—I think—you are the cleverest.” + </p> + <p> + “Good little boy! Well, then, I will. Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Compton. Who are you, please?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard that name before.” + </p> + <p> + “No more did I. I think they measured me for it: you live in the great + house there, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I live in the little house. It is not very little either. + It's Highmore. I saw you in church one day; is that lady with the hair + your mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “She is beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “But mine is so good.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine is very good, too, Ruperta. Wonderfully good.” + </p> + <p> + “I like you, Compton—a little.” + </p> + <p> + “I like you a good deal, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “La, do you? I wonder at that: you are like a cherub, and I am such a + black thing.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is why I like you. Reginald is darker than you, and oh, so + beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!—he is a very bad boy.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell stories, child; he is. I know all about him. A wicked, vulgar, + bad boy.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not,” cried Compton, almost sniveling; but he altered his mind, and + fired up. “You are a naughty, story-telling girl, to say that.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless <i>me!”</i> said Ruperta, coloring high, and tossing her head + haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like you <i>now,</i> Ruperta,” said Compton, with all the decent + calmness of a settled conviction. + </p> + <p> + “You don't!” screamed Ruperta. “Then go about your business directly, and + don't never come here again! Scolding <i>me!</i> How dare you?—oh! + oh! oh!” and the little lady went off slowly, with her finger in her eye; + and Master Compton looked rather rueful, as we all do when this charming + sex has recourse to what may be called “liquid reasoning.” I have known + the most solid reasons unable to resist it. + </p> + <p> + However, “mens conscia recti,” and, above all, the cowslips, enabled + Compton to resist, and he troubled his head no more about her that day. + </p> + <p> + But he looked out for her the next day, and she did not come; and that + rather disappointed him. + </p> + <p> + The next day was wet, and he did not go into the meadow, being on honor + not to do so. + </p> + <p> + The fourth day was lovely, and he spent a long time in the meadow, in + hopes: he saw her for a moment at the gate; but she speedily retired. + </p> + <p> + He was disappointed. + </p> + <p> + However, he collected a good store of cowslips, and then came home. + </p> + <p> + As he passed the door out popped Ruperta from some secret ambush, and + said, “Well?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + </h2> + <h3> + “WELL,” replied Compton. + </h3> + <p> + “Are you better, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very well, thank you,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “In your mind, I mean. You were cross last time, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Compton remembered his mother's lessons about manly behavior, and said, in + a jaunty way, “Well, I s'pose I was a little cross.” + </p> + <p> + Now the other cunning little thing had come to apologize, if there was no + other way to recover her admirer. But, on this confession, she said, “Oh, + if you are sorry for it, I forgive you. You may come and talk.” + </p> + <p> + Then Compton came and stood on the gate, and they held a long + conversation; and, having quarreled last time, parted now with rather + violent expressions of attachment. + </p> + <p> + After that they made friends and laid their little hearts bare to each + other; and it soon appeared that Compton had learned more, but Ruperta had + thought more for herself, and was sorely puzzled about many things, and of + a vastly inquisitive mind. “Why,” said she, “is good thing's so hard, and + had things so nice and easy? It would be much better if good things were + nice and bad ones nasty. That is the way I'd have it, if I could make + things.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Compton shook his head and said many things were very hard to + understand, and even his mamma sometimes could not make out all the + things. + </p> + <p> + “Nor mine neither; I puzzle her dreadful. I can't help that; things + shouldn't come and puzzle me, and then I shouldn't puzzle her. Shall I + tell you my puzzles? and perhaps you can answer them because you are a + boy. I can't think why it is wicked for me to dig in my little garden on a + Sunday, and it isn't wicked for Jessie to cook and Sarah to make the beds. + Can't think why mamma told papa not to be cross, and, when I told her not + to be cross, she put me in a dark cupboard all among the dreadful mice, + till I screamed so she took me out and kissed me and gave me pie. Can't + think why papa called Sally 'Something' for spilling the ink over his + papers, and when I called the gardener the very same for robbing my + flowers, all their hands and eyes went up, and they said I was a shocking + girl. Can't think why papa giggled the next moment, if I was a shocking + girl: it is all puzzle—puzzle—puzzle.” + </p> + <p> + One day she said, “Can you tell me where all the bad people are buried? + for that puzzles me dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + Compton was posed at first, but said at last he thought they were buried + in the churchyard, along with the good ones. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” said she, with an air of pity. “Pray, have you ever been in + the churchyard, and read the writings on the stones?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have. I have read every single word; and there are none but good + people buried <i>there,</i> not one.” She added, rather pathetically, “You + should not answer me without thinking, as if things were easy, instead of + so hard. Well, one comfort, there are not many wicked people hereabouts; + they live in towns; so I suppose they are buried in the garden, poor + things, or put in the water with a stone.” + </p> + <p> + Compton had no more plausible theory ready, and declined to commit himself + to Ruperta's; so that topic fell to the ground. + </p> + <p> + One day he found her perched as usual, but with her bright little face + overclouded. + </p> + <p> + By this time the intelligent boy was fond enough of her to notice her + face. “What's the matter, Perta?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruperta. The matter? Puzzled again! It is very serious this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Please.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady fixed her eyes on him, and said, with a pretty solemnity, + “Let us play at catechism.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that game.” + </p> + <p> + “The governess asks questions, and the good little boy answers. That's + catechism. I'm the governess.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm the good little boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face.” + </p> + <p> + “There—you're very pretty, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be giddy; I'm hideous; so behave, and answer all my questions. Oh, + I'm so unhappy. Answer me, is young people, or old people, goodest?” + </p> + <p> + “You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. Why, old people, to be + sure—much.” + </p> + <p> + “So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. Then your papa and mine + are much betterer—will that do?—than we are?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they are.” + </p> + <p> + “There he goes! Such a child for answering slap bang I never.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a story.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I'm as old; for Mary says we were born the same day—the + same hour—the same minute.” + </p> + <p> + “La! we are twins.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found reason to doubt her + hasty conclusion. “No such thing,” said she: “they tell me the bells were + ringing for you being found, and then I was found—to catechism you.” + </p> + <p> + “There! then you see I <i>am</i> older than you, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” said Ruperta, very gravely; “I'm younger in my body, but + older in my head.” + </p> + <p> + This matter being settled so that neither party could complain, since + antiquity was evenly distributed, the catechizing recommenced. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in 'Let dogs delight?'” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” screamed Ruperta. “Oh, you wicked boy! Why, it comes next after + the Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I do believe it,” said Compton, who, to tell the truth, had been + merely puzzled by the verb, and was not afflicted with any doubt that the + composition referred to was a divine oracle. + </p> + <p> + “Good boy!” said Ruperta, patronizingly. “Well, then, this is what puzzles + me; your papa and mine don't believe in 'Dogs delight.' They have been + quarreling this twelve years and more, and mean to go on, in spite of + mamma. She <i>is</i> good. Didn't you know that your papa and mine are + great enemies?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Ruperta. Oh, what a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Compton, don't: there, you have made me cry.” + </p> + <p> + He set himself to console her. + </p> + <p> + She consented to be consoled. + </p> + <p> + But she said, with a sigh, “What becomes of old people being better than + young ones, now? Are you and I bears and lions? Do we scratch out each + other's eyes? It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead! Nurse + says, when I'm dead I shall understand it all. But I don't know; I saw a + dead cat once, and she didn't seem to know as much as before; puzzle, + puzzle. Compton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the sooner we both go there, the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of the cowslips.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a boy! What, would you rather be among the cowslips than the + angels? and think of the diamonds and pearls that heaven is paved with.” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>you</i> mightn't be there.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Am I a wicked girl, then—wickeder than you, that is a boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, no, no; but see how big it is up there;” they cast their eyes up, + and, taking the blue vault for creation, were impressed with its + immensity. “I know where to find you here, but up there you might be ever + so far off me.” + </p> + <p> + “La! so I might. Well, then, we had better keep quiet. I suppose we shall + get wiser as we get older. But Compton, I'm so sorry your papa and mine + are bears and lions. Why doesn't the clergyman scold them?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody dare scold my papa,” said Compton, proudly. Then, after + reflection, “Perhaps, when we are older, we may persuade them to make + friends. I think it is very stupid to quarrel; don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “As stupid as an owl.” + </p> + <p> + “You and I had a quarrel once, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you misbehaved.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; you were cross.” + </p> + <p> + “Story! Well, never mind: we <i>did</i> quarrel. And you were miserable + directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so very,” said Compton, tossing his head. + </p> + <p> + “I <i>was,</i> then,” said Ruperta, with unguarded candor. + </p> + <p> + “So was I.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy! Kiss me, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “There—and there—and there—and—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do. I want to talk, Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not very sure, but I rather think I'm in love with you—a + little, little bit, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm sure I'm in love with you, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “Over head an' ears?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate! If it wasn't for that, I + could run in the meadow with you; and marry you perhaps, and so gather + cowslips together for ever and ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us open it.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us try.” + </p> + <p> + “I have. It won't be opened.” + </p> + <p> + “Let <i>me</i> try. Some gates want to be lifted up a little, and then + they will open. There, I told you so.” + </p> + <p> + The gate came open. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then drew back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid, Compton,” said she, “papa would be angry.” + </p> + <p> + She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young gentleman, having a strong + sense of filial duty, omitted so to do. + </p> + <p> + When she saw he would not persuade her, she dispensed. “Come along,” said + she, “if it is only for five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + She took his hand, and away they scampered. He showed her the cowslips, + the violets, and all the treasures of the meadow; but it was all hurry, + and skurry, and excitement; no time to look at anything above half a + minute, for fear of being found out: and so, at last, back to the gate, + beaming with stolen pleasure, glowing and sparkling with heat and + excitement. + </p> + <p> + The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and then, after saying she + must go for about an hour, marched demurely back to the house. + </p> + <p> + After one or two of these hasty trips, impunity gave her a sense of + security, and, the weather getting warm, she used to sit in the meadow + with her beau and weave wreaths of cowslips, and place them in her black + hair, and for Comp-ton she made coronets of bluebells, and adorned his + golden head. + </p> + <p> + And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle to him, and lean her + head, with all the feminine grace of a mature woman, on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Said she, “A boy's shoulder does very nice for a girl to put her nose on.” + </p> + <p> + One day the aspiring girl asked him what was that forest. + </p> + <p> + “That is Bassett's wood.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go there with you some day, when papa is out.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid that is too far for you,” said Compton. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is too far for me,” replied the ardent girl. “Why, how far is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “More than half a mile.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it very big?” + </p> + <p> + “Immense.” + </p> + <p> + “Belong to the queen?” + </p> + <p> + “No, to papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + And here my reader may well ask what was Lady Bassett about, or did + Compton, with all his excellent teaching, conceal all this from his mother + and his friend. + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, he went open-mouthed to her and told her he had seen such + a pretty little girl, and gave her a brief account of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was startled at first, and greatly perplexed. She told him he + must on no account go to her; if he spoke to her, it must be on papa's + ground. She even made him pledge his honor to that. + </p> + <p> + More than that she did not like to say. She thought it unnecessary and + undesirable to transmit to another generation the unhappy feud by which + she had suffered so much, and was even then suffering. Moreover, she was + as much afraid of Richard Bassett as ever. If he chose to tell his girl + not to speak to Compton, he might. She was resolved not to go out of her + way to affront him, through his daughter. Besides, that might wound Mrs. + Bassett, if it got round to her ears; and, although she had never spoken + to Mrs. Bassett, yet their eyes had met in church, and always with a + pacific expression. Indeed, Lady Bassett felt sure she had read in that + meek woman's face a regret that they were not friends, and could not be + friends, because of their husbands. Lady Bassett, then, for these reasons, + would not forbid Compton to be kind to Ruperta in moderation. + </p> + <p> + Whether she would have remained as neutral had she known how far these + young things were going, is quite another matter; but Compton's narratives + to her were, naturally enough, very tame compared with the reality, and + she never dreamed that two seven-year-olds could form an attachment so + warm, as these little plagues were doing. + </p> + <p> + And, to conclude, about the time when Mr. Compton first opened the gate + for his inamorata, Lady Bassett's mind was diverted, in some degree, even + from her beloved boy Compton, by a new trouble, and a host of passions it + excited in her own heart. + </p> + <p> + A thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles Bassett, in the form of a letter from + Reginald's tutor, informing him that Reginald and another lad had been + caught wiring hares in a wood at some distance and were now in custody. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles mounted his horse and rode to the place, leaving Lady Bassett + a prey to great anxiety and bitter remorse. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles came back in two days, with the galling news that his son and + heir was in prison for a month, all his exertions having only prevailed to + get the case summarily dealt with. + </p> + <p> + Reginald's companion, a young gypsy, aged seventeen, had got three months, + it being assumed that he was the tempter: the reverse was the case, + though. + </p> + <p> + When Sir Charles told Lady Bassett all this, with a face of agony, and a + broken voice, her heart almost burst: she threw every other consideration + to the winds. + </p> + <p> + “Charles,” she cried, “I can't bear it: I can't see your heart wrung any + more, and your affections blighted. Tear that young viper out of your + breast: don't go on wasting your heart's blood on a stranger; HE IS NOT + YOUR SON.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. + </h2> + <p> + AT this monstrous declaration, from the very lips of the man's wife, there + was a dead silence, Sir Charles being struck dumb, and Lady Bassett + herself terrified at the sound of the words she had uttered. + </p> + <p> + After a terrible pause, Sir Charles fixed his eyes on her, with an awful + look, and said, very slowly, “Will—you—have—the—goodness— + to—say that again? but first think what you are saying.” + </p> + <p> + This made Lady Bassett shake in every limb; indeed the very flesh of her + body quivered. Yet she persisted, but in a tone that of itself showed how + fast her courage was oozing. She faltered out, almost inaudibly, “I say + you must waste no more love on him—he is not your son.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked at her to see if she was in her senses: it was not the + first time he had suspected her of being deranged on this one subject. But + no: she was pale as death, she was cringing, wincing, quivering, and her + eyes roving to and fro; a picture not of frenzy, but of guilt unhardened. + </p> + <p> + He began to tremble in his turn, and was so horror-stricken and agitated + that he could hardly speak. “Am I dreaming?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett saw the storm she had raised, and would have given the world + to recall her words. + </p> + <p> + “Whose is he, then?” asked Sir Charles, in a voice scarcely human. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Lady Bassett doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Then how dare you say that he isn't mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Kill me, Charles,” cried she, passionately; “but don't look at me so and + speak to me so. Why I say he is not yours, is he like you either in face + or mind?” + </p> + <p> + “And he is like—whom?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett had lost all her courage by this time: she whimpered out, + “Like nobody except the gypsies.” + </p> + <p> + “Bella, this is a subject which will part you and me for life unless we + can agree upon it—” + </p> + <p> + No reply, in words, from Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “So please let us understand each other. Your son is not my son. Is that + what you look me in the face and tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Charles, I never said <i>that.</i> How could he be my son, and not be + yours?” + </p> + <p> + And she raised her eyes, and looked him full in the face: nor fear nor + cringing now: the woman was majestic. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was a little alarmed in his turn; for his wife's soft eyes + flamed battle for the first time in her life. + </p> + <p> + “Now you talk sense,” said he; “if he is yours, he is mine; and, as he is + certainly yours, this is a very foolish conversation, which must not be + renewed, otherwise—” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be insulted by my own husband?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it very probable. And, as I do not choose you to be insulted, nor + to think yourself insulted, I forbid you ever to recur to this subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I will obey, Charles; but let me say one word first. When I was alone in + London, and hardly sensible, might not this child have been imposed upon + me and you? I'm sure he was.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell? I was alone—that woman in the house had a bad face—the + gypsies do these things, I've heard.” + </p> + <p> + “The gypsies! And why not the fairies?” said Sir Charles, contemptuously. + “Is that all you have to suggest—before we close the subject + forever?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Bassett sorrowfully. “I see you take me for a mad-woman; + but time will show. Oh that I could persuade you to detach your affections + from that boy—he will break your heart else—and rest them on + the children that resemble us in mind and features.” + </p> + <p> + “These partialities are allowed to mothers; but a father must be just. + Reginald is my first-born; he came to me from Heaven at a time when I was + under a bitter trial, and from the day he was born till this day I have + been a happy man. It is not often a father owes so much to a son as I do + to my darling boy. He is dear to my heart in spite of his faults; and now + I pity him, as well as love him, since it seems he has only one parent, + poor little fellow!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett opened her mouth to reply, but could not. She raised her + hands in mute despair, then quietly covered her face with them, and soon + the tears trickled through her white fingers. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked at her, and was touched at her silent grief. + </p> + <p> + “My darling wife,” said he, “I think this is the only thing you and I + cannot agree upon. Why not be wise as well as loving, and avoid it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will never seek it again,” sobbed Lady Bassett. “But oh,” she cried, + with sudden wildness, “something tells me it will meet me, and follow me, + and rob me of my husband. Well, when that day comes, I shall know how to + die.” + </p> + <p> + And with this she burst away from him, like some creature who has been + stung past endurance. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles often meditated on this strange scene: turn it how he could he + came back to the same conclusion, that she must have an hallucination on + this subject. He said to himself, “If Bella really believed the boy was a + changeling, she would act upon her conviction, she would urge me to take + some steps to recover our true child, whom the gypsies or the fairies have + taken, and given us poor dear Reginald instead.” + </p> + <p> + But still the conversation, and her strange looks of terror, lay dormant + in his mind: both were too remarkable to be ever forgotten. Such things + lie like certain seeds, awaiting only fresh accidents to spring into life. + </p> + <p> + The month rolled away, and the day came for Reginald's liberation. A + dogcart was sent for him, and the heir of the Bassetts emerged from a + county jail, and uttered a whoop of delight; he insisted on driving, and + went home at a rattling pace. + </p> + <p> + He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Huntercombe Hall; and then + it suddenly occurred to his mercurial mind that he should probably not be + received with an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in that ancient + house whose representative he was. + </p> + <p> + When he did get there he found the whole family in such a state of + commotion that his return was hardly noticed at all. + </p> + <p> + Master Compton's dinner hour was two P.M., and yet, at three o'clock of + this day, he did not come in. + </p> + <p> + This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her some little anxiety; + for she suspected he might possibly be in the company of Ruperta Bassett; + and, although she did not herself much object to that, she objected very + much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So she went herself to the + end of the lawn, and out into the meadow, that a servant might not find + the young people together, if her suspicion was correct. + </p> + <p> + She went into the meadow and called “Compton! Compton!” as loud as she + could, but there was no reply. + </p> + <p> + Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent servants about in all + directions. + </p> + <p> + But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The thing looked + serious. + </p> + <p> + She sent out grooms well mounted to scour the country. One of these fell + in with Sir Charles, who thereupon came home and found his wife in a + pitiable state. She was sitting in an armchair, trembling and crying + hysterically. + </p> + <p> + She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a vise. + </p> + <p> + “It is Richard Bassett!” she cried. “He knows how to wound and kill me. He + has stolen our child.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles hurried out, and, soon after that, Reginald arrived, and stood + awe-struck at her deplorable condition. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed Reginald, told him in + three words his brother was missing, and then informed Lady Bassett that + he had learned something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett's little girl + had also disappeared, and his people were out looking after her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, they are together,” cried Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Together? a son of mine consorting with that viper's brood!” + </p> + <p> + “What does that poor child know? Oh, find him for me, if you love that + dear child's mother!'” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the door by a servant, + who blurted out, “The men have dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, and + they want to know if they shall drag the brook.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, idiot!” cried Sir Charles, and thrust him out; but the + wiseacre had not spoken in vain. Lady Bassett moaned, and went into worse + hysterics, with nobody near her but Reginald. + </p> + <p> + That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, and not being hardened + at all points, uttered a sympathetic howl, and flung his arms round her + neck. “Oh! oh! oh! Don't cry, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel him. + </p> + <p> + “I'll find him for you,” said the boy, “if you will leave off crying.” + </p> + <p> + She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as before. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” said he, getting impatient, “do listen to me. I'll find him easy + enough, if you will only listen.” + </p> + <p> + “You! you!” and she stared wildly at him. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. I'm a poacher. Just + you put me on to his track. I'll soon run into him, if he is above + ground.” + </p> + <p> + “A child like you!” cried Lady Bassett; “how can you do that?” and she + began to wring her hands again. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you,” said the boy, getting very impatient, “if you will just + leave off crying like a great baby, and come to any place you like where + he has been to-day and left a mark—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a poacher,” repeated Reginald, quite proudly; “you forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” cried Lady Bassett, starting up. She whipped on her + bonnet, and ran with him down the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “There, Reginald,” said she, panting, “I think my darling was here this + afternoon; yes, yes, he must; for he had a key of the door, and it is + open.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Reginald; “come into the field.” + </p> + <p> + He ran about like a dog hunting, and soon found marks among the cowslips. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day,” said he; “now, mamma, + there's only two ways put of this field—let us go straight to that + gate; that is the likeliest.” + </p> + <p> + Near the gate was some clay, and Reginald showed her several prints of + small feet. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” said he, “here's the track of two—one's a gal; how I know, + here's a sole to this shoe no wider nor a knife. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + In the next field he was baffled for a long time; but at last he found a + place in a dead hedge where they had gone through. + </p> + <p> + “See,” said he, “these twigs are fresh broken, and here's a bit of the + gal's frock. Oh! won't she catch it?”: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you brave, clever boy!” cried Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” shouted the urchin. + </p> + <p> + He hunted like a beagle, and saw like a bird, with his savage, glittering + eye. He was on fire with the ardor of the chase; and, not to dwell too + long on what has been so often and so well written by others, in about an + hour and a half he brought the anxious, palpitating, but now hopeful + mother, to the neighborhood of Bassett's wood. Here he trusted to his own + instinct. “They have gone into the wood,” said he, “and I don't blame 'em. + I found my way here long before his age. I say, don't you tell; I've + snared plenty of the governor's hares in that wood.” + </p> + <p> + He got to the edge of the wood and ran down the side. At last he found the + marks of small feet on a low bank, and, darting over it, discovered the + fainter traces on some decaying leaves inside the wood. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he; “now it is just as if you had got them in your pocket, + for they'll never find their way out of this wood. Bless your heart, why + <i>I</i> used to get lost in it at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Lost in the wood!” cried Lady Bassett; “but he will die of fear, or be + eaten by wild beasts; and it is getting so dark.” + </p> + <p> + “What about that? Night or day is all one to me. What will you give me if + I find him before midnight?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything I've got in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a sovereign?” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a kiss?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll tell you what I'll do—I don't mind a little trouble, to + stop your crying, mamma, because you are the right sort. I'll get the + village out, and we will tread the wood with torches, an' all for them as + can't see by night; I can see all one; and you shall have your kid home to + supper. You see, there's a heavy dew, and he is not like me, that would + rather sleep in this wood than the best bed in London city; a night in a + wood would about settle his hash. So here goes. I can run a mile in six + minutes and a half.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, the strange boy was off like an arrow from a bow. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett, exhausted by anxiety and excitement, was glad to sit down; + her trembling heart would not let her leave the place that she now began + to hope contained her child. She sat down and waited patiently. + </p> + <p> + The sun set, the moon rose, the stars glittered; the infinite leaves stood + out dark and solid, as if cut out of black marble; all was dismal silence + and dread suspense to the solitary watcher. + </p> + <p> + Yet the lady of Huntercombe Hall sat on, sick at heart, but patient, + beneath that solemn sky. + </p> + <p> + She shuddered a little as the cold dews gathered on her, for she was a + woman nursed in luxury's lap; but she never moved. + </p> + <p> + The silence was dismal. Had that wild boy forgotten his promise, or were + there no parents in the village, that their feet lagged so? + </p> + <p> + It was nearly ten o'clock, when her keen ears, strained to the utmost, + discovered a faint buzzing of voices; but where she could not tell. + </p> + <p> + The sounds increased and increased, and then there was a temporary + silence; and after that a faint hallooing in the wood to her right. The + wood was five hundred acres, and the bulk of it lay in front and to her + left. + </p> + <p> + The hallooing got louder and louder; the whole wood seemed to echo; her + heart beat high; lights glimmered nearer and nearer, hares and rabbits + pattered by and startled her, and pheasants thundered off their roosts + with an incredible noise, owls flitted, and bats innumerable, disturbed + and terrified by the glaring lights and loud resounding halloos. + </p> + <p> + Nearer, nearer came the sounds, till at last a line of men and boys, full + fifty carrying torches and lanterns, came up, and lighted up the + dew-spangled leaves, and made the mother's heart leap with joyful hope at + succor so powerful. + </p> + <p> + Oh, she could have kissed the stout village blacksmith, whose deep + sonorous lungs rang close to her. Never had any man's voice sounded to her + so like a god's as this stout blacksmith's “hilloop! hilloop!” close and + loud in her ear, and those at the end of the line hallooed “hillo-op; + hillo-op!” like an echo; and so they passed on, through bush and brier, + till their voices died away in the distance. + </p> + <p> + A boy detached himself from the line, and ran to Lady Bassett with a + traveling rug. It was Reginald. + </p> + <p> + “You put on this,” said he. He shook it, and, standing on tiptoe, put it + over her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear,” said she. “Where is papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is in the line, and the Highmore swell and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Richard Bassett?” + </p> + <p> + “Air, his kid is out on the loose, as well as ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Reginald, if they should quarrel!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, our governor can lick him, can't he?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. + </h2> + <h3> + “OH, don't talk so. I wouldn't for all the world they should quarrel.” + </h3> + <p> + “Well, we have got enough fellows to part them if they do.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Reginald, you have been so good to me, and you are so clever; speak + to some of the men, and let there be no more quarreling between papa and + that man.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “On second thoughts take me to papa; I'll be by his side, and then they + cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to walk through the wood? that is a good joke. Why, it is like + walking through a river, and the young wood slapping your eyes, for you + can't see every twig by this light, and the leaves sponging your face and + shoulders: and the briers would soon strip your gown into ribbons, and + make your little ankles bleed. No, you are a lady; you stay where you are, + and let us men work it. We shan't find him yet awhile. I must get near the + governor. When we find my lord, I'll give a whistle you could hear a mile + off.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Reginald, are you sure he is in the wood?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd bet my head to a chany orange. You might as well ask me, when I track + a badger to his hole, and no signs of his going out again, whether old + long-claws is there. I wish I was as sure of never going back to school as + I am of finding that little lot. The only thing I don't like is, the young + muff's not giving us a halloo back. But, any way, I'll find 'em, <i>alive + or dead.”</i> + </p> + <p> + And, with this pleasing assurance, the little imp scudded off, leaving the + mother glued to the spot with terror. + </p> + <p> + For full an hour more the torches gleamed, though fainter and fainter; and + so full was the wood of echoes, that the voices, though distant, seemed to + halloo all round the agonized mother. + </p> + <p> + But presently there was a continuous yell, quite different from the + isolated shouts, a distant but unmistakable howl of victory that made a + bolt of ice shoot down her back, and then her heart to glow like fire. + </p> + <p> + It was followed by a keen whistle. + </p> + <p> + She fell on her knees and thanked God for her boy. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of this wood was a shallow excavation, an old chalk-pit, + unused for many years. It was never deep, and had been half filled up with + dead leaves; these, once blown into the hollow, or dropped from the trees, + had accumulated. + </p> + <p> + The very middle of the line struck on this place, and Moss, the old + keeper, who was near the center, had no sooner cast his eyes into it than + he halted, and uttered a stentorian halloo well known to sportsmen—“SEE + HO!” + </p> + <p> + A dead halt, a low murmur, and in a very few seconds the line was a + circle, and all the torches that had not expired held high in a flaming + ring over the prettiest little sight that wood had ever presented. + </p> + <p> + The old keeper had not given tongue on conjecture, like some youthful + hound. In a little hollow of leaves, which the boy had scraped out, lay + Master Compton and Miss Ruperta, on their little backs, each with an arm + round the other's neck, enjoying the sweet sound sleep of infancy, which + neither the horror of their situation—babes in the wood—nor + the shouts of fifty people had in the smallest degree disturbed; to be + sure, they had undergone great fatigue. + </p> + <p> + Young master wore a coronet of bluebells on his golden bead, young miss a + wreath of cowslips on her ebon locks. The pair were flowers, cherubs, + children—everything that stands for young, tender, and lovely. + </p> + <p> + The honest villagers gaped, and roared in chorus, and held high their + torches, and gazed with reverential delight. Not for them was it to finger + the little gentlefolks, but only to devour them with admiring eyes. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the picture was carried home to many a humble hearth, and is + spoken of to this day in Huntercombe village. + </p> + <p> + But the pale and anxious fathers were in no state to see pictures—they + only saw their children Sir Charles and Richard Bassett came round with + the general rush, saw, and dashed into the pit. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, neither knew the other was there. Each seized his child, + and tore it away from the contact of the other child, as if from a viper; + in which natural but harsh act they saw each other for the first time, and + their eyes gleamed in a moment with hate and defiance over their loving + children. + </p> + <p> + Here was a picture of a different kind, and if the melancholy Jaques, or + any other gentleman with a foible for thinking in a wood; had been there, + methinks he had moralized very prettily on the hideousness of hate and the + beauty of the sentiment it had interrupted so fiercely. But it escaped + this sort of comment for about eight years. Well, all this woke the + bairns; the lights dazzled them, the people scared them. Each hid a little + face on the paternal shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The fathers, like wild beasts, each carrying off a lamb, withdrew, glaring + at each other; but the very next moment the stronger and better sentiment + prevailed, and they kissed and blessed their restored treasures, and + forgot their enemies for a time. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles's party followed him, and supped at Huntercombe, every man + Jack of them. + </p> + <p> + Reginald, who had delivered a terrific cat-call, now ran off to Lady + Bassett. There she was, still on her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Found! found!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + She clasped him in her arms and wept for joy. + </p> + <p> + “My eyes!” said he, “what a one you are to cry! You come home; you'll + catch your death o' cold.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; take me to my child at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't be done; the governor has carried him off through the wood; and I + ain't a going to let you travel the wood. You come with me; we'll go the + short cut, and be home as soon as them.” + </p> + <p> + She complied, though trembling all over. + </p> + <p> + On the way he told her where the children had been discovered, and in what + attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Little darlings!” said she. “But he has frightened his poor mother, and + nearly broken her heart. Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “If you cry any more, mamma—Shut up, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Must</i> I? Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or you'll catch pepper.” + </p> + <p> + Then he pulled her along, gabbling all the time. “Those two swells didn't + quarrel after all, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “But they looked at each other like hobelixes, and pulled the kids away + like pison. Ha! ha! I say, the young 'uns ain't of the same mind as the + old 'uns. I say, though, our Compton is not a bad sort; I'm blowed if he + hadn't taken off his tippet to put round his gal. I say, don't you think + that little chap has begun rather early? Why, <i>I</i> didn't trouble my + head about the gals till I was eleven years old.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett was too much agitated to discuss these delicate little + questions just then. + </p> + <p> + She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. “Oh, you good, brave, + clever boy!” said she. + </p> + <p> + Then she stopped a moment to kiss him heartily. “I shall never forget this + night, dear. I shall always make excuses for you. Oh, shall we never get + home?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall be home as soon as they will,” said Reginald. “Come on.” + </p> + <p> + He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has probably had enough of + his millclack. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a large fire in Compton's + bedroom, when Sir Charles came in, bringing the boy. + </p> + <p> + The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her knees, with her arms out, + as only a mother can stretch them to her child. + </p> + <p> + There was not a word of scolding that night. He had made her suffer; but + what of that? She had no egotism; she was a true mother. Her boy had been + lost, and was found; and she was the happiest soul in creation. + </p> + <p> + But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both intensely mortified, + and took measures to keep those little lovers apart in future. Richard + Bassett locked up his gate: Sir Charles padlocked his; and they both told + their wives they really must be more vigilant. The poor children, being in + disgrace, did not venture to remonstrate! But they used often to think of + each other, and took a liking to the British Sunday; for then they saw + each other in church. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was sent to school, and + passed her holidays at the sea-side. + </p> + <p> + To return to Reginald, he was compelled to change his clothes that + evening, but was allowed to sit up, and, when the heads of the house were + a little calmer, became the hero of the night. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, “Reginald, you have + begun a new life to-day, and begun it well. Let us forget the past, and + start fresh to-day, with the love and gratitude of both your parents.” + </p> + <p> + The boy hung his head and said nothing in reply. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett came to his assistance. “He will; he will. Don't say a word + about the past. He is a good, brave, beautiful boy, and I adore him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I like you, mamma,” said Reginald graciously. + </p> + <p> + From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bassett; and Heaven knows, + she had no sinecure; poor Reginald's virtues were too eccentric to balance + his faults for long together. His parents could not have a child lost in a + wood every day; but good taste and propriety can be offended every hour + when one is so young, active, and savage as Master Reginald. + </p> + <p> + He was up at five, and doing wrong all day. + </p> + <p> + Hours in the stables, learning to talk horsey, and smell dunghilly. + </p> + <p> + Hours in the village, gossiping and romping. + </p> + <p> + In good company, an owl. + </p> + <p> + In bad, or low company, a cricket, a nightingale, a magpie. + </p> + <p> + He was seen at a neighboring fair, playing the fiddle in a booth to + dancing yokels, and receiving their pence. + </p> + <p> + He was caught by Moss wiring hairs in Bassett's wood, within twenty yards + of the place where he had found the babes in the wood so nobly. + </p> + <p> + Remonstrated with tenderly and solemnly, he informed Sir Charles that + poaching was a thing he could not live without, and he modestly asked to + have Bassett's wood given him to poach in, offering, as a consideration, + to keep all other poachers out: as a greater inducement, he represented + that he should not require a house, but only a coarse sheet to stretch + across an old saw-pit, and a pair of blankets for winter use—one + under, one over. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles was often sad, sometimes indignant. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett excused each enormity with pathetic ingenuity; excused, but + suffered, and indeed pined visibly, for all this time he was tormenting + her as few women in her position have been tormented. Her life was a + struggle of contesting emotions; she was wounded, harassed, perplexed, and + so miserable, she would have welcomed death, that her husband might read + that Manuscript and cease to suffer, and she escape the shame of + confessing, and of living after it. + </p> + <p> + In one word, she was expiating. + </p> + <p> + Neither the excuses she made nor the misery she suffered escaped Sir + Charles. + </p> + <p> + He said to her at last, “My own Bella, this unhappy boy is killing you. + Dear as he is to me, you are dearer. I must send him away again.” + </p> + <p> + “He saved our darling,” said she, faintly, but she could say no more. He + had exhausted excuse. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles made inquiries everywhere, and at last his attention was drawn + to the following advertisement in the <i>Times:</i> + </p> + <p> + UNMANAGEABLE, Backward, or other BOYS, carefully TRAINED, and EDUCATED, by + a married rector. Home comforts. Moderate terms. Address Dr. Beecher, + Fennymore, Cambridgeshire. + </p> + <p> + He wrote to this gentleman, and the correspondence was encouraging. “These + scapegraces,” said the artist in tuition, “are like crab-trees; abominable + till you graft them, and then they bear the best fruit.” + </p> + <p> + While the letters were passing, came a climax. Reckless Reginald could + keep no bounds intact: his inward definition of a boundary was “a thing + you should go a good way out of your way rather than not overleap.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, he was often on Highmore farm at night, and even in Highmore + garden; the boundary wall tempted him so. + </p> + <p> + One light but windy night, when everybody that could put his head under + cover, and keep it there, did, reckless Reginald was out enjoying the + fresh breezes; he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, to see + what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he speedily discovered a bright + light in Highmore dining-room. + </p> + <p> + He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly over the grass and + peered in at the window. + </p> + <p> + He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it; on that table, and gleaming in + that light, were several silver vessels of rare size and workmanship, and + Mr. Bassett, with his coat off, and a green baize apron on, was cleaning + one of these with brush and leather. He had already cleaned the others, + for they glittered prodigiously. + </p> + <p> + Reginald's black eye gloated and glittered at this unexpected display of + wealth in so dazzling a form. + </p> + <p> + But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When Mr. Bassett had done + with that piece of plate he went to the paneled wall, and opened a door so + nicely adapted to the panels, that a stranger would hardly have discovered + it. Yet it was an enormous door, and, being opened, revealed a still + larger closet, lined with green velvet and fitted with shelves from floor + to ceiling. + </p> + <p> + Here shone, in all their glory, the old plate of two good families: that + is to say, half the old plate of the Bassetts, and all the old plate of + the Goodwyns, from whom came Highmore to Richard Bassett through his + mother Ruperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; so named after her + aunt; so named after her godmother; so named after her father, Prince + Rupert, cavalier, chemist, glass-blower, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + The wall seemed ablaze with suns and moons, for many of the chased + goblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt: none of your filmy + electro-plate, but gold laid on thick, by the old mercurial process, in + days when they that wrought in precious metals were honest—for want + of knowing how to cheat. + </p> + <p> + Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of gold suns and silver + moons, and trembling with Bohemian excitement, reckless Reginald heard not + a stealthy step upon the grass behind him. + </p> + <p> + He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doctrine of shadows. + </p> + <p> + The Scotch servant saw from a pantry window the shadow of a cap projected + on the grass, with a face, and part of a body. She stepped out, and got + upon the grass. + </p> + <p> + Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as cunning; and, owing to + the wind and his absorption, stole on him unheard, and pinned him with her + strong hands by both his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and administered a back kick + that made Jessie limp for two days, and scream very lustily for the + present. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee-pot with a crash + and a tinkle, and ran out directly, and secured young Hopeful, who + thereupon began to quake and remonstrate. + </p> + <p> + “I was only taking a look,” said he. “Where's the harm of that?” + </p> + <p> + “You were trespassing, sir,” said Richard Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “What is the harm of that, governor? You can come over all our place, for + what I care.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't. I say, old chap, don't hit me. 'Twas I put 'em all on the + scent of your kid, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't it? You ain't such a bad sort, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here again, that will be a + fresh account, and I shall open it with a horsewhip.” + </p> + <p> + He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like the wind. When he + was gone, Richard Bassett became rather uneasy. He had hitherto concealed, + even from his own family, the great wealth his humble home contained. His + secret was now public. Reginald had no end of low companions. If burglars + got scent of this, it might be very awkward. At last he hit upon a + defense. He got one of those hooks ending in a screw which are used for + pictures, and screwed it into the inside of the cupboard door near the + top. To this he fastened a long piece of catgut, and carried it through + the floor. His bed was just above the cupboard door, and he attached the + gut to a bell by his bedside. By this means nobody could open that + cupboard without ringing in his ears. + </p> + <p> + Jessie told Tom, Tom told Maria and Harriet; Harriet and Maria told + everybody; somebody told Sir Charles. He was deeply mortified. + </p> + <p> + “You young idiot!” said he, “would nothing less than this serve your turn? + must you go and lower me and yourself by giving just offense to my one + enemy?—the man I hate and despise, and who is always on the watch to + injure or affront me. Oh, who would be a father! There, pack up your + things; you will go to school next morning at eight o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Reginald packed accordingly, but that did not occupy long; so he + sallied forth, and, taking for granted that it was Richard Bassett who had + been so mean as to tell, he purchased some paint and brushes and a rope, + and languished until midnight. + </p> + <p> + But when that magic hour came he was brisk as a bee, let himself down from + his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett's front door, and inscribed + thereon, in large and glaring letters, + </p> + <p> + “JERRY SNEAK, ESQ., Tell-Tale Tit.” + </p> + <p> + He then returned home much calmed and comforted, climbed up his rope and + into his room, and there slept sweetly, as one who had discharged his duty + to his neighbor and society in general. + </p> + <p> + In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried the grooms, and was + off before the appointed time. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young Hopeful gone, without + the awkward ceremony of leave-taking. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his table, and among them + one rarer to him than ortolan, pin-tail, or wild turkey (in which last my + soul delights); for he found a letter from Richard Bassett, Esq. + </p> + <p> + “SIR—Some nights since we caught your successor that is to be, at my + dining-room window, prying into my private affairs. Having the honor of + our family at heart, I was about to administer a little wholesome + correction, when he reminded me he had been instrumental in tracking Miss + Bassett, and thereby rescuing her: upon this I was, naturally, mollified, + and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen the last of him at + Highmore. + </p> + <p> + “This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, and as Mr. + Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yesterday afternoon, it is + doubtless to him I am indebted for them. + </p> + <p> + “I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put them down to your + credit, and your son's. + </p> + <p> + “Your obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “RICHARD BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that morning; so Sir Charles + digested this dish in solitude. + </p> + <p> + He was furious with Reginald; but as Richard Bassett's remonstrance was + intended to insult him, he wrote back as follows: + </p> + <p> + “SIR—I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should descend to look + in at your windows, or to write anything whatever upon your door; and I + will take care it shall never recur. + </p> + <p> + “Yours obediently, + </p> + <p> + “CHARLES DYKE BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the coals of hatred + between the cousins. + </p> + <p> + Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar in his new master. + </p> + <p> + That gentleman punished him severely for every breach of discipline. The + study was a cool dark room, with one window looking north, and that window + barred. Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time, upon the + slightest escapade. + </p> + <p> + Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewailing his lot, and + praying to be removed. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of Mr. Richard Bassett's + letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher at the same time, expressing his full + approval. + </p> + <p> + Thus disciplined, the boy began to change; he became moody, sullen, + silent, and even sleepy. This was the less wonderful, that he generally + escaped at night to a gypsy camp, and courted a gypsy girl, who was nearly + as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far more knowing. + </p> + <p> + His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon knew all about him + and his parents. + </p> + <p> + One morning the servants got up supernaturally early, to wash. Mr. + Reginald was detected stealing back to his roost, and reported to the + master. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the study alone, put the + other students into the drawing-room, and erected bars to his bedroom + window. + </p> + <p> + A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a cage. + </p> + <p> + A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to the servants, and + wormed out the truth. + </p> + <p> + Then she came at night under his window, and made him a signal. He told + her his hard case, and told her also a resolution he had come to. She + informed the tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up to him; + in two nights he was through the bars; the third he was free, and joined + his sable friends. + </p> + <p> + They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, asses, tents, and + baggage, and were many miles away by daybreak, without troubling + turnpikes. + </p> + <p> + The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher half hoped he might + come back; still he sent to the nearest station, and telegraphed to + Huntercombe. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once into + Cambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and learned that the boy had + been seen consorting with a tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, that these + were rather high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that they dealt in + horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two of the girls were handsome, + and also singers. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; wrote to the mayors of + towns; advertised, with full description and large reward, and brought + such pressure to bear upon the Egyptians, that the band begin to fear: + they consulted, and took measures for their own security; none too soon, + for, they being encamped on Grey's Common in Oxfordshire, Sir Charles and + the rural police rode into the camp and demanded young Hopeful. + </p> + <p> + They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew nothing of the matter, + and, with injured innocence, invited a full inspection. + </p> + <p> + The invitation was accepted. + </p> + <p> + Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be struck with an + idea. “It is the young gentleman who wanted to join us in Cambridgeshire.” + </p> + <p> + Then all their throats opened at once. “Yes, gentleman, there was a lovely + young gentleman wanted to come with us; but we wouldn't have him. What + could we do with him?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and continued his researches, + telegraphing Lady Bassett twice every day. + </p> + <p> + A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no longer young, but still + a striking figure: had once, no doubt, been superlatively handsome. Even + now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter: but his life had + impregnated his noble features with hardness and meanness; his large black + eye was restless, keen, and servile: an excellent figure for a painter, + though; born in Spain, he was not afraid of color, had a red cap on his + snaky black hair, and a striped waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm. + </p> + <p> + He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. Meyrick. + </p> + <p> + The female servant who opened the door ran her eye up and down him, and + said, bruskly, “What do you want with her, my man? because she is busy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she will see me, miss.” + </p> + <p> + Softened by the “miss,” the girl laughed, and said, “What makes you think + that, my man?” + </p> + <p> + “Give her this, miss,” said the gypsy, “and she will come to me.” + </p> + <p> + He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper. + </p> + <p> + Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under the + corner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger and + thumb operating through the linen. By this means she avoided two evils—her + fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not dirty her fingers. + </p> + <p> + She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose arms were deep in a + wash-tub. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, and for six + months would not put her hand to anything. But those twin cajolers of the + female heart, Dignity and Laziness, made her so utterly wretched, that she + returned to her old habits of work, only she combined with it the sweets + of domination. + </p> + <p> + Sally came in and said, “It's an old gypsy, which he have brought you + this.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her brown but shapely arms, + and, whipping a wet hand under her apron, took the note just as Sally had. + It contained these words only: + </p> + <p> + “NURSE—The old Romance will tell you all about me. + </p> + <p> + “REGINALD.” + </p> + <p> + She had no sooner read it than she took her sleeves down, and whipped her + shawl off a peg and put it on, and took off her apron—and all for an + old gypsy. No stranger must take her for anything but a lady. + </p> + <p> + Thus embellished in a turn of the hand, she went hastily to the door. + </p> + <p> + She and the gypsy both started at sight of each other, and Mrs. Meyrick + screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what brings you here, old man?” said she, panting. The gypsy + answered with oily sweetness, “The little gentleman sent me, my dear. Why, + you look like a queen.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Mrs. Meyrick.—“Come in here.” + </p> + <p> + She made the old gypsy sit down, and she sat close to him. + </p> + <p> + “Speak low, daddy,” said she, “and tell me all about my boy, my beautiful + boy.” + </p> + <p> + The old gypsy told Mrs. Meyrick the wrongs of Reginald that had driven him + to this; and she fell to crying and lamenting, and inveighing against all + concerned—schoolmaster, Sir Charles, Lady Bassett, and the gypsies. + Them the old man defended, and assured her the young gentleman was in good + hands, and would be made a little king of, all the more that Keturah had + told them there was gypsy blood in him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick resented this loudly, and then returned to her grief. + </p> + <p> + When she had indulged that grief for a long time, she felt a natural + desire to quarrel with somebody, and she actually put on her bonnet, and + was going to the Hall to give Lady Bassett a bit of her mind, for she said + that lady had never shown the feelings of a woman for the lamb. + </p> + <p> + But she thought better of it, and postponed the visit. “I shall be sure to + say something I shall be sorry for after,” said she; so she sat down + again, and returned to her grief. + </p> + <p> + Nor could she ever shake it off as thoroughly as she had done any other + trouble in her life. + </p> + <p> + Months after this, she said to Sally, with a burst of tears, “I never + nursed but one, and I shall never nurse another; and now he is across the + seas.” + </p> + <p> + She kept the old gypsy at the farm; or, to speak more correctly, she made + the farm his headquarters. She assigned him the only bedroom he would + accept, viz., a cattle-shed, open on one side. She used often to have him + into her room when she was alone; she gave him some of her husband's + clothes, and made him wear a decent hat; by these means she effaced, in + some degree, his nationality, and then she compelled her servants to call + him “the foreign gent.” + </p> + <p> + The foreign gent was very apt to disappear in fine weather, but rain soon + drove him back to her fireside, and hunger to her flesh-pots. + </p> + <p> + On the very day the foreign gent came to Meyrick's farm Lady Bassett had a + letter by post from Reginald. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MAMMA—I am gone with the gypsies across the water. I am sorry + to leave you. You are the right sort: but they tormented me so with their + books and their dark rooms. It is very unfortunate to be a boy. When I am + a man, I shall be too old to be tormented, and then I will come back. + </p> + <p> + “Your dutiful son, + </p> + <p> + “REGINALD.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett telegraphed Sir Charles, and he returned to Huntercombe, + looking old, sad, and worn. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett set herself to comfort and cheer him, and this was her gentle + office for many a long month. + </p> + <p> + She was the more fit for it, that her own health and spirits revived the + moment Reginald left the country with his friends the gypsies; the color + crept back to her cheek, her spirits revived, and she looked as handsome, + and almost as young, as when she married. She tasted tranquillity. Year + after year went by without any news of Reginald, and the hope grew that he + would never cross her threshold again, and Compton be Sir Charles's heir + without any more trouble. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. + </h2> + <p> + OUR story now makes a bold skip. Compton Bassett was fourteen years old, a + youth highly cultivated in mind and trained in body, but not very tall, + and rather effeminate looking, because he was so fair and his skin so + white. + </p> + <p> + For all that, he was one of the bowlers in the Wolcombe Eleven, whose + cricket-ground was the very meadow in which he had erst gathered cowslips + with Ruperta Bassett; and he had a canoe, which he carried to adjacent + streams, however narrow, and paddled it with singular skill and vigor. A + neighboring miller, suffering under drought, was heard to say, “There + ain't water enough to float a duck; nought can swim but the dab-chicks and + Muster Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take long walks with him, + and leave the horses to eat their oats in peace. + </p> + <p> + In these walks young master botanized and geologized his own father, and + Sir Charles gave him a little politics, history, and English poetry, in + return. He had a tutor fresh from Oxford for the classics. + </p> + <p> + One day, returning with his father from a walk, they met a young lady + walking toward them from the village; she was tall, and a superb brunette. + </p> + <p> + Now it was rather a rare thing to see a lady walking through that village, + so both Sir Charles and his son looked keenly at her as she came toward + them. + </p> + <p> + Compton turned crimson, and raised his hat to her rather awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, who did not know the lady from Eve, saluted her, + nevertheless, and with infinite grace; for Sir Charles, in his youth, had + lived with some of the elite of French society, and those gentlemen bow to + the person whom their companion bows to. Sir Charles had imported this + excellent trait of politeness, and always practiced it, though not the + custom in England, the more the pity. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the young lady had passed and was out of hearing, Sir Charles + said to Compton, “Who is that lovely girl? Why, how the boy is blushing!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see? It is herself come back from school.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt it is herself, and not her sister, but who is herself?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruperta Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard Bassett's daughter! impossible. That young lady looks seventeen + or eighteen years of age.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it is Ruperta. There's nobody like her. Papa!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I may speak to her now.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “She is so beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “That she really is. And therefore I advise you to have nothing to say to + her. You are not children now, you know. Were you to renew that intimacy, + you might be tempted to fall in love with her. I don't say you would be so + mad, for you are a sensible boy; but still, after that little business in + the wood—” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose I did fall in love with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Then that would be a great misfortune. Don't you know that her father is + my enemy? If you were to make any advances to that young lady, he would + seize the opportunity to affront you, and me through you.” + </p> + <p> + This silenced Compton, for he was an obedient youth. + </p> + <p> + But in the evening he got to his mother and coaxed her to take his part. + </p> + <p> + Now Lady Bassett felt the truth of all her husband had said; but she had a + positive wish the young people should be on friendly terms, at all events; + she wanted the family feud to die with the generation it had afflicted. + She promised, therefore, to speak to Sir Charles; and so great was her + influence that she actually obtained terms for Compton: he might speak to + Miss Bassett, if he would realize the whole situation, and be very + discreet, and not revive that absurd familiarity into which, their + childhood had been betrayed. + </p> + <p> + She communicated this to him, and warned him at the same time that even + this concession had been granted somewhat reluctantly, and in + consideration of his invariable good conduct; it would be immediately + withdrawn upon the slightest indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I will be discretion itself,” said Compton; but the warmth with which + he kissed his mother gave her some doubts. However, she was prepared to + risk something. She had her own views in this matter. + </p> + <p> + When he had got this limited permission, Master Compton was not much + nearer the mark; for he was not to call on the young lady, and she did not + often walk in the village. + </p> + <p> + But he often thought of her, her loving, sprightly ways seven years ago, + and the blaze of beauty with which she had returned. + </p> + <p> + At last, one Sunday afternoon, she came to church alone. When the + congregation dispersed, he followed her, and came up with her, but his + heart beat violently. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bassett!” said he, timidly. + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and turned her eyes on him; he blushed up to the temples. She + blushed too, but not quite so much. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you don't remember me,” said the boy, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do, sir,” said Ruperta, shyly. + </p> + <p> + “How you are grown!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You are taller than I am, and more beautiful than ever.” + </p> + <p> + No answer, but a blush. + </p> + <p> + “You are not angry with me for speaking to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't offend you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not offended. Only—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Bassett, of course I know you will never be—we shall never + be—like we used.” + </p> + <p> + A very deep blush, and dead silence. + </p> + <p> + “You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy still, somehow. But it + <i>would</i> have been hard if I might not even speak to you. Would it + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the young lady, but after some hesitation, and only in a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you out but once.” + </p> + <p> + No reply to this little feeler. + </p> + <p> + Then, at last, Compton was discouraged, partly by her beauty and size, + partly by her taciturnity. + </p> + <p> + He was silent in return, and so, in a state of mutual constraint, they + reached the gate of Highmore. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” said Compton reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you shake hands?” + </p> + <p> + She blushed, and put out her hand halfway. He took it and shook it, and so + they parted. + </p> + <p> + Compton said to his mother disconsolately, “Mamma, it is all over. I have + seen her, and spoken to her; but she has gone off dreadfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She has not + a word to say to a fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young lady now.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the bright + little darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid, + dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, don't take <i>too much</i> + notice of her, and then you will find she will not be nearly so shy.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much notice! I shall never speak to her again—perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why not treat her like any + other acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a second time. Horror! + she was all monosyllables and blushes again. + </p> + <p> + Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reached Highmore + gate, he lost his patience, and said, “I see how it is. I have lost my + sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble you any more.” + And he held out his hand to the young lady for a final farewell. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, and + then, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, + then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the + mother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all in less + than two seconds. + </p> + <p> + Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, but not + a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so much + feminine dignity. + </p> + <p> + After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he cast a + few sheep's-eyes at her in church. + </p> + <p> + Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbidden her + to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion. + </p> + <p> + She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, + she had snubbed him so. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” said Mrs. Bassett, “why did you do that? Can you not be polite + and nothing more?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so.” + </p> + <p> + “He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I am afraid + he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poor little + fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinks me a + cross, ill-tempered thing; and I <i>am</i> very unkind to him, but I can't + help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Mrs. Bassett; “that is much better than to be too + forward. Papa would never forgive that.” + </p> + <p> + By-and-by there was a cricket-match in the farmer's meadow, Highcombe and + Huntercombe eleven against the town of Staveleigh. All clubs liked to play + at Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and the dinner, and + the young farmers drank his champagne to their hearts' content. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta took her maid and went to see the match. They found it going + against Huntercombe. The score as follows— + </p> + <p> + Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight runs. + </p> + <p> + Huntercombe eighty-eight. + </p> + <p> + Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; and + Johnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of the + bowling. + </p> + <p> + This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul in + the game. + </p> + <p> + The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen more + before the young lady's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” said she, “what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl? They + pretend he is a capital bowler.” + </p> + <p> + At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from the + wicket than usual. + </p> + <p> + Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientific + hitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hit for + four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and, running + with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a few yards + of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throw himself forward + into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held the ball in sight all the + while. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky. + </p> + <p> + Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by. + </p> + <p> + She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and touched + his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did not speak + to her. + </p> + <p> + This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to be + delivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg. + </p> + <p> + The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like most country + players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ball exactly + right, and sent it whizzing for five. + </p> + <p> + But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went at first + bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, like a + catapult, at Wright's wicket. + </p> + <p> + Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become of + the ball, started to run, as a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's hands like + a bullet, cried, “Back!” + </p> + <p> + Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball had + required handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill with + luck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very + judiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a second + before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. + </p> + <p> + “How's that, umpire?” cried the wicket-keeper. + </p> + <p> + “Out!” said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at that end. + </p> + <p> + Up went the ball into the air, amid great excitement of the natives. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, nodded all sparkling to + Compton, and that made his heart beat and his soul aspire. So next over he + claimed his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriended him: he + bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket-keeper stumped a fifth: + the rest were “the tail,” and disposed of for a few runs, and the total + was no more than Huntercombe's first innings. + </p> + <p> + Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs before he was + disposed of, five wickets down for a hundred and ten runs. The match was + not won yet, nor sure to be; but the situation was reversed. + </p> + <p> + On going out, he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta naturally felt proud of + her admirer. + </p> + <p> + Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some iced champagne. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so imploringly that she + sipped a little, and said, warmly, “I hope we shall win: and, if we do, I + know whom we shall have to thank.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I: you, Miss Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Why, what have <i>I</i> done in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “You brought us luck, for one thing. You put us on our mettle. Staveleigh + shall never beat <i>me,</i> with you looking on.” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta blushed a little, for the boy's eyes beamed with fire. + </p> + <p> + “If I believed that,” said she, “I should hire myself out at the next + match, and charge twelve pairs of gloves.” + </p> + <p> + “You may believe it, then; ask anybody whether our luck did not change the + moment you came.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am afraid it will go now, for I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “You will lose us the match if you do,” said Compton. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it: now you are out, it is rather insipid. There, you see I + can pay compliments as well as you.” + </p> + <p> + Then she made a graceful inclination and moved away. + </p> + <p> + Compton felt his heart ache at parting. He took a thought and ran quickly + to a certain part of the field. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta and her attendant walked very slowly homeward. + </p> + <p> + Compton caught them just at their own gate. “Cousin!” said he, + imploringly, and held her out a nosegay of cowslips only. + </p> + <p> + At that the memories rushed back on her, and the girl seemed literally to + melt. She gave him one look full of womanly sensibility and winning + tenderness, and said, softly, “Thank you, cousin.” + </p> + <p> + Compton went away on wings: the ice was broken. + </p> + <p> + But the next time he met her it had frozen again apparently: to be sure + she was alone; and young ladies will be bolder when they have another + person of their own sex with them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo called on Sir Charles Bassett to complain of a serious + grievance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo had become zealous and eloquent, but what are eloquence and + zeal against sex? A handsome woman had preached for ten minutes upon a + little mound outside the village, and had announced she should say a few + parting words next Sunday evening at six o'clock. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo complained of this to Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett referred him to Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Angelo asked that magistrate to enforce the law against conventicles. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles said he thought the Act did not apply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said Angelo, “it is on your ground she is going to preach.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the proprietor, but the tenant is the owner in law. He could warn <i>me</i> + off his ground. I have no power.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear you have no inclination,” said Angelo, nettled. + </p> + <p> + “Not much, to tell the truth,” replied Sir Charles coolly. “Does it matter + so very much <i>who</i> sows the good seed, or whether it is flung abroad + from a pulpit or a grassy knoll?” + </p> + <p> + “That is begging the question, Sir Charles. Why assume that it is good + seed? it is more likely to be tares than wheat in this case.” + </p> + <p> + “And is not that begging the question? Well, I will make it my business to + know: and if she preaches sedition, or heresy, or bad morals, I will + strain my power a little to silence her. More than that I really cannot + promise you. The day is gone by for intolerance.” + </p> + <p> + “Intolerance is a bad thing; but the absence of all conviction is worse, + and that is what we are coming to.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite that: but the nation has tasted liberty; and now every man + assumes to do what is right in his own eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “That mean's what is wrong in his neighbor's.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles thought this neat, and laughed good-humoredly: he asked the + rector to dine on Sunday at half-past seven. “I shall know more about it + by that time,” said he. + </p> + <p> + They dined early on Sunday, at Highmore, and Ruperta took her maid for a + walk in the afternoon, and came back in time to hear the female preacher. + </p> + <p> + Half the village was there already, and presently the preacher walked to + her station. + </p> + <p> + To Ruperta's surprise, she was a lady, richly dressed, tall and handsome, + but with features rather too commanding. She had a glove on her left hand, + and a little Bible in her right hand, which was large, but white, and + finely formed. + </p> + <p> + She delivered a short prayer, and opened her text: + </p> + <p> + “Walk honestly; not in strife and envying.” + </p> + <p> + Just as the text was given out, Ruperta's maid pinched her, and the young + lady, looking up, saw her father coming to see what was the matter. Maid + was for hiding, but Ruperta made a wry face, blushed, and stood her + ground. “How can he scold me, when he comes himself?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + During the sermon, of which, short as it was, I can only afford to give + the outline, in crept Compton Bassett, and got within three or four of + Ruperta. + </p> + <p> + Finally Sir Charles Bassett came up, in accordance with his promise to + Angelo. + </p> + <p> + The perfect preacher deals in generalities, but strikes them home with a + few personalities. + </p> + <p> + Most clerical preachers deal only in generalities, and that is + ineffective, especially to uncultivated minds. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Marsh, as might be expected from her sex, went a little too much the + other way. + </p> + <p> + After a few sensible words, pointing out the misery in houses, and the + harm done to the soul, by a quarrelsome spirit, she lamented there was too + much of it in Huntercombe: with this opening she went into personalities: + reminded them of the fight between two farm servants last week, one of + whom was laid up at that moment in consequence. “And,” said she, “even + when it does not come to fighting, it poisons your lives and offends your + Redeemer.” + </p> + <p> + Then she went into the causes, and she said Drunkenness and Detraction + were the chief causes of strife and contention. + </p> + <p> + She dealt briefly but dramatically with Drunkenness, and then lashed + Detraction, as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Every class has its vices, and Detraction is the vice of the poor. You + are ever so much vainer than your betters: you are eaten up with vanity, + and never give your neighbor a good word. I have been in thirty houses, + and in not one of those houses has any poor man or poor woman spoken one + honest word in praise of a neighbor. So do not flatter yourselves this is + a Christian village, for it is not. The only excuse to be made for you, + and I fear it is not one that God will accept on His judgment-day, is that + your betters set you a bad example instead of a good one. The two + principal people in this village are kinsfolk, yet enemies, and have been + enemies for twenty years. That's a nice example for two Christian + gentlemen to set to poor people, who, they may be sure, will copy their + sins, if they copy nothing else. + </p> + <p> + “They go to church regularly, and believe in the Bible, and yet they defy + both Church and Bible. + </p> + <p> + “Now I should like to ask those gentlemen a question. How do they mean to + manage in Heaven? When the baronet comes to that happy place, where all is + love, will the squire walk out? Or do they think to quarrel there, and so + get turned out, both of them? I don't wonder at your smiling; but it is a + serious consideration, for all that. The soul of man is immortal: and what + is the soul? it is not a substantial thing, like the body; it is a bundle + of thoughts and feelings: the thoughts we die with in this world, we shall + wake up with them in the next. Yet here are two Christians loading their + immortal souls with immortal hate. What a waste of feeling, if it must all + be flung off together with the body, lest it drag the souls of both down + to bottomless perdition. + </p> + <p> + “And what do they gain in this world?—irritation, ill-health, and + misery. It is a fact that no man ever reached a great old age who hated + his neighbor; still less a <i>good</i> old age; for, if men would look + honestly into their own hearts, they would own that to hate is to be + miserable. + </p> + <p> + “I believe no men commit a sin for many years without some special + warnings; and to neglect these, is one sin more added to their account. + Such a warning, or rather, I should say, such a pleading of Divine love, + those two gentlemen have had. Do you remember, about eight years ago, two + children were lost on one day, out of different houses in this village?” + (A murmur from the crowd.) + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps some of you here present were instrumental, under God, in finding + that pretty pair.” (A louder murmur.) + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't be afraid to answer me. Preaching is only a way of speaking; + and I'm only a woman that is speaking to you for your good. Tell me—we + are not in church, tied up by stait-laced rules to keep men and women from + getting within arm's-length of one another's souls—tell me, who saw + those two lost children?” + </p> + <p> + “I, I, I, I, I,” roared several voices in reply. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent darlings had each + an arm round the other's neck?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + “And little coronets of flowers, to match their hair?” (That was the + girl's doing.) + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + “And the little boy had played the man, and taken off his tippet to put + round the little lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay!” with a burst of enthusiasm from the assembled rustics. + </p> + <p> + “I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting up the dewy leaves + overhead, and that Divine picture of innocent love. Well, which was the + prettiest sight, and the fittest for heaven—the hatred of the + parents, or the affection of the children? + </p> + <p> + “And now mark what a weapon hatred is, in the Devil's hands. There are + only two people in this parish on whom that sight was wasted; and those + two being gentlemen, and men of education, would have been more affected + by it than humble folk, if Hell had not been in their hearts, for Hate + comes from Hell, and takes men down to the place it comes from. + </p> + <p> + “Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of your betters: and I + hope those children will shun it too. A father is to be treated with great + veneration, but above all is our Heavenly Father and His law; and that + law, what is it?—what has it been this eighteen hundred years and + more? Why, Love. + </p> + <p> + “Would you be happy in this world, and fit your souls to dwell hereafter + even in the meanest of the many mansions prepared above, you <i>must,</i> + above all things, be charitable. You must not run your neighbor down + behind his back, or God will hate you: you must not wound him to his face, + or God will hate you. You must overlook a fault or two, and see a man's + bright side, and then God will love you. If you won't do that much for + your neighbor, why, in Heaven's name, should God overlook a multitude of + sins in you? + </p> + <p> + “Nothing goes to heaven surer than Charity, and nothing is so fit to sit + in heaven. St. Paul had many things to be proud of and to praise in + himself—things that the world is more apt to admire than Christian + charity, the sweetest, but humblest of all the Christian graces: St. Paul, + I say, was a bulwark of learning, an anchor of faith, a rock of constancy, + a thunder-bolt of zeal: yet see how he bestows the palm. + </p> + <p> + “'Knowledge puffeth up: but charity edifieth. Though I speak with the + tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as + sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of + prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I + have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I + am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though + I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me + nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity + vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, + seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth + not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth + all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth; + but prophecies—they shall fail; tongues—they shall cease; + knowledge—it shall vanish away. And now abideth Faith, Hope, + Charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.'” + </p> + <p> + The fair orator delivered these words with such fire, such feeling, such + trumpet tones and heartfelt eloquence, that for the first time those + immortal words sounded in these village ears true oracles of God. + </p> + <p> + Then, without pause, she went on. “So let us lift our hearts in earnest + prayer to God that, in this world of thorns, and tempers, and trials, and + troubles, and cares, He will give us the best cure for all—the great + sweetener of this mortal life—the sure forerunner of Heaven—His + most excellent gift of charity.” Then, in one generous burst, she prayed + for love divine, and there was many a sigh and many a tear, and at the + close an “Amen!” such as, alas! we shall never, I fear, hear burst from a + hundred bosoms where men repeat beautiful but stale words and call it + prayer. + </p> + <p> + The preacher retired, but the people still lingered spell-bound, and then + arose that buzz which shows that the words have gone home. + </p> + <p> + As for Richard Bassett, he had turned on his heel, indignant, as soon as + the preacher's admonitions came his way. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, being steeled by the + conviction that the quarrel was none of his seeking. Moreover, he was not + aware what a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what a good wife + she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. His mind, therefore, made a + clear leap from Rhoda Somerset, the vixen of Hyde Park and Mayfair, to + this preacher, and he could not help smiling; than which a worse frame for + receiving unpalatable truths can hardly be conceived. And so the elders + were obdurate. But Compton and Ruperta had no armor of old age, egotism, + or prejudice to turn the darts of honest eloquence. They listened, as to + the voice of an angel; they gazed, as on the face of an angel; and when + those silvery accents ceased, they turned toward each other and came + toward each other, with the sweet enthusiasm that became their years. “Oh, + Cousin Ruperta!” quavered Compton. '“Oh, Cousin Compton!” cried Ruperta, + the tears trickling down her lovely cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They could not say any more for ever so long. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, “I will go and speak + to her, and thank her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea,” suggested the maid. + </p> + <p> + “Tea!” said Ruperta. “Our souls are before our tea! I must speak to her, + or else my heart will choke me and kill me. I will go—and so will + Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said Compton. + </p> + <p> + And they hurried after the preacher. + </p> + <p> + They came up with her flushed and panting; and now it was Compton's turn + to be shy—the lady was so tall and stately too. + </p> + <p> + But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in petticoats. “Oh, madam,” + said she, “if you please, may we speak to you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline features softened + instantly at the two specimens of beauty and innocence that had run after + her. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my young friends;” and she smiled maternally on them. She had + children of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Who do you think we are? We are the two naughty children you preached + about so beautifully.” + </p> + <p> + “What! <i>you</i> the babes in the wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we are fifteen now—are + we not, Cousin Compton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “And we are both so unhappy at our parents' quarreling. At least I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And so am I.” + </p> + <p> + “And we came to thank you. Didn't we, Compton?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ruperta.” + </p> + <p> + “And to ask your advice. How are we to make our parents be friends? Old + people will not be advised by young ones. They look down on us so; it is + dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” said Mrs. Marsh, “I will try and answer you: but let + me sit down a minute; for, after preaching, I am apt to feel a little + exhausted. Now, sit beside me, and give me each a hand, if you please. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dears, I have been teaching you a lesson; and now you teach me + one, and that is, how much easier it is to preach reconciliation and + charity than it is to practice it under certain circumstances. However, my + advice to you is first to pray to God for wisdom in this thing, and then + to watch every opportunity. Dissuade your parents from every unkind act: + don't be afraid to speak—with the word of God at your back. I know + that you have no easy task before you. Sir Charles Bassett and Mr. Bassett + were both among my hearers, and both turned their backs on me, and went + away unsoftened; they would not give me a chance; would not hear me to an + end, and I am not a wordy preacher neither.” + </p> + <p> + Here an interruption occurred. Ruperta, so shy and cold with Compton, + flung her arms round Mrs. Marsh's neck, with the tears in her eyes, and + kissed her eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in turn, “I <i>was</i> + a little mortified. But that was very weak and foolish. I am sorry, for + their own sakes, they would not stay; it was the word of God: but they saw + only the unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you <i>have</i> a hard + task; but you must work upon your mothers, and win them to charity.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never approved this unhappy + quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “No more has mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so? Then you must try and get the two ladies to speak to each + other. But something tells me that a way will be opened. Have patience; + have faith; and do not mind a check or two; but persevere, remembering + that 'blessed are the peace-makers.'” + </p> + <p> + She then rose, and they took leave of her. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a kiss, children,” said she. “You have done me a world of good. + My own heart often flags on the road, and you have warmed and comforted + it. God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + And so they parted. + </p> + <p> + Compton and Ruperta walked homeward. Ruperta was very thoughtful, and + Compton could only get monosyllables out of her. This discouraged, and at + last vexed him. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done,” said he, “that you will speak to anybody but me?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be cross, child,” said she; “but answer me a question. Did you put + your tippet round me in that wood?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then you don't remember doing it, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No; that I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what makes you think you did?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they say so. Because I must have been such an awful cad if I + didn't. And I was always much fonder of you than you were of me. My + tippet! I'd give my head sooner than any harm should come to you, + Ruperta!” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta made no reply, but, being now at Highmore, she put out her hand to + him, and turned her head away. He kissed her hand devotedly, and so they + parted. + </p> + <p> + Compton told Lady Bassett all that happened, and Ruperta told Mrs. + Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Those ladies readily promised to be on the side of peace, but they feared + it could only be the work of time, and said so. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by Compton got impatient, and told Ruperta he had thought of a way + to compel their fathers to be friends. “I am afraid you won't like the + idea at <i>first,”</i> said he; “but the more you think of it, the more + you will see it is the surest way of all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You must let me marry you.” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta stared, and began to blush crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Will you, cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, child. The idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Ruperta,” cried the boy in dismay, “surely you don't mean to marry + anybody else but me!” + </p> + <p> + “Would that make you very unhappy, then?” + </p> + <p> + “You know it would, wretched for my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not like to do that. But I disapprove of early marriages. I mean + to wait till I'm nineteen; and that is three years nearly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a fearful time; but if you will promise not to marry anybody else, + I suppose I shall live through it.” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta, though she made light of Compton's offer, was very proud of it + (it was her first). She told her mother directly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett sighed, and said that was too blessed a thing ever to happen. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Ruperta. + </p> + <p> + “How could it,” said Mrs. Bassett, “with everybody against it but poor + little me!” + </p> + <p> + “Compton assures me that Lady Bassett wishes it.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! But Sir Charles and papa, Ruperta?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Compton must talk Sir Charles over, and I will persuade papa. I'll + begin this evening, when he comes home from London.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, as he was sitting alone in the dining-room sipping his glass + of port, Ruperta slipped away from her mother's side and found him. + </p> + <p> + His face brightened at the sight of her; for he was extremely fond and + proud of this girl, for whom he would not have the bells rung when she was + born. + </p> + <p> + She came and hung round his neck a little, and kissed him, and said + softly, “Dear papa, I have something to tell you. I have had a proposal.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett stared. + </p> + <p> + “What, of marriage?” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta nodded archly. + </p> + <p> + “To a child like you? Scandalous! No, for, after all, you look nineteen or + twenty. And who is the highwayman that thinks to rob me of my precious + girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, papa, whoever he is, he will have to wait three years, and so I + told him. It is my cousin Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Richard Bassett, so loudly that the girl started back + dismayed. “That little monkey have the impudence to offer marriage to my + daughter? Surely, Ruperta, you have offered him no encouragement?” + </p> + <p> + “N—no.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother promised me nothing but common civility should pass between + you and that young gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “She promised for me, but she could not promise for him—poor little + fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Marry a son of the man who has robbed and insulted your father!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa! is it so? Are you sure you did not begin?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can think that, it is useless to say more. I thought ill-fortune + had done its worst; but no; blow upon blow, and wound upon wound. Don't + spare me, child. Nobody else has, and why should you? Marry my enemy's + son, his younger son, and break your father's heart.” + </p> + <p> + At this, what could a sensitive girl of sixteen do but burst out crying, + and promise, round her father's neck, never to marry any one whom he + disliked. + </p> + <p> + When she had made this promise, her father fondled and petted her, and his + tenderness consoled her, for she was not passionately in love with her + cousin. + </p> + <p> + Yet she cried a good deal over the letter in which she communicated this + to Compton. + </p> + <p> + He lay in wait for her; but she baffled him for three weeks. + </p> + <p> + After that she relaxed her vigilance, for she had no real wish to avoid + him, and was curious to see whether she had cured him. + </p> + <p> + He met her; and his conduct took her by surprise. He was pale, and looked + very wretched. + </p> + <p> + He said solemnly, “Were you jesting with me when you promised to marry no + one but me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Compton. But you know I could never marry you without papa's + consent.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not; but, what I fear, he might wish you to marry somebody + else.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should refuse. I will never break my word to you, cousin. I am not + in love with you, you are too young for that—but somehow I feel I + could not make you unhappy. Can't you trust my word? You might. I come of + the same people as you. Why do you look so pale?—we are very + unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Then the tears began to steal down her cheeks; and Compton's soon + followed. + </p> + <p> + Compton consulted his mother. She told him, with a sigh, she was + powerless. Sir Charles might yield to her, but she had no power to + influence Mr. Bassett at present. “The time may come,” said she. She could + not take a very serious view of this amour, except with regard to its + pacific results. So Mr. Bassett's opposition chilled her in the matter. + </p> + <p> + While things were so, something occurred that drove all these minor things + out of her distracted heart. + </p> + <p> + One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and Compton sat at dinner, a + servant came in to say there was a stranger at the door, and he called + himself Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “What is he like?” said Lady Bassett, turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is Mr. Bassett,” repeated + the man, with a scandalized air. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall door. Compton + followed to the door only and looked. + </p> + <p> + Sure enough it was Reginald, full-grown, and bold, as handsome as ever, + and darker than ever. + </p> + <p> + In that moment his misconduct in running away never occurred either to Sir + Charles or Compton; all was eager and tremulous welcome. The hall rang + with joy. They almost carried him into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored velvet, half hidden + by the table. + </p> + <p> + Compton ran forward with a cry of dismay. + </p> + <p> + It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as white as her neck and + arms, and these as white and smooth as satin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. + </h2> + <p> + LADY BASSETT was carried to her room, and did not reappear. She kept her + own apartments, and her health declined so rapidly that Sir Charles sent + for Dr. Willis. He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay in the + mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, and her beautiful + eyes began to shine like stars, preternaturally large. She was in a + frightful condition: she longed to tell the truth and end it all; but then + she must lose her adored husband's respect, and perhaps his love; and she + had not the courage. She saw no way out of it but to die and leave her + confession; and, as she felt that the agony of her soul was killing her by + degrees, she drew a somber resignation from that. + </p> + <p> + She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the sight of him. + </p> + <p> + Compton came to her many times a day, with a face full of concern, and + even terror. But she would not talk to him of herself. + </p> + <p> + He brought her all the news he heard, having no other way to cheer her. + </p> + <p> + One day he told her there were robbers about. Two farmhouses had been + robbed, a thing not known in these parts for many years. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + But by-and-by her beloved son came to her in distress with a grief of his + own. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta Bassett was now the beauty of the county, and it seems Mr. Rutland + had danced with her at her first ball, and been violently smitten with + her; he had called more than once at Highmore, and his attentions were + directly encouraged by Mr. Bassett. Now Mr. Rutland was heir to a peerage, + and also to considerable estates in the county. + </p> + <p> + Compton was sick at heart, and, being young, saw his life about to be + blighted; so now he was pale and woe-begone, and told her the sad news + with such deep sighs, and imploring, tearful eyes, that all the mother + rose in arms. “Ah!” said she, “they say to themselves that I am down, and + cannot fight for my child; but I would fight for him on the edge of the + grave. Let me think all by myself, dear. Come back to me in an hour. I + shall do something. Your mother is a very cunning woman—for those + she loves.” + </p> + <p> + Compton kissed her gown—a favorite action of his, for he worshiped + her—and went away. + </p> + <p> + The invalid laid her hollow cheek upon her wasted hand, and thought with + all her might. By degrees her extraordinary brain developed a twofold plan + of action; and she proceeded to execute the first part, being the least + difficult, though even that was not easy, and brought a vivid blush to her + wasted cheek. + </p> + <p> + She wrote to Mrs. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “MADAM—I am very ill, and life is uncertain. Something tells me you, + like me, regret the unhappy feud between our houses. If this is so, it + would be a consolation to me to take you by the hand and exchange a few + words, as we already have a few kind looks. + </p> + <p> + “Yours respectfully, + </p> + <p> + “BELLA BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he might send a servant + with it to Highmore at once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma!” said he, “I never thought you would do that: how good you + are! You couldn't ask Ruperta, could you? Just in a little postscript, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook that fish for you, not + frighten her away.” + </p> + <p> + Great was the astonishment at Highmore when a blazing footman knocked at + the door and handed Jessie the letter with assumed nonchalance, then + stalked away, concealing with professional art his own astonishment at + what he had done. + </p> + <p> + It was no business of Jessie's to take letters into the drawing-room; she + would have deposited any other letter on the hall table; but she brought + this one in, and, standing at the door, exclaimed, “Here a letter fr' + Huntercombe!” + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Ruperta, all turned upon her with one + accord. + </p> + <p> + “From where?” + </p> + <p> + “Fr' Huntercombe itsel'. Et isna for you, nor for you, missy. Et's for the + mesterress.” + </p> + <p> + She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett and laid the letter down on the + table; then drew back a step or two, and, being Scotch, coolly waited to + hear the contents. Richard Basset, being English, told her she need not + stay. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett cast a bewildered look at her husband and daughter, then + opened the letter quietly; read it quietly; and, having read it, took out + her handkerchief and began to cry quietly. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta cried, “Oh, mamma!” and in a moment had one long arm round her + mother's neck, while the other hand seized the letter, and she read it + aloud, cheek to cheek; but, before she got to an end, her mother's tears + infected her, and she must whimper too. + </p> + <p> + “Here are a couple of geese,” said Richard Bassett. “Can't you write a + civil reply to a civil letter without sniveling? I'll answer the letter + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Mrs. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Richard was amazed: Ruperta ditto. + </p> + <p> + The little woman had never dealt in “Noes,” least of all to her husband; + and besides this was such a plump “No.” It came out of her mouth like a + marble. + </p> + <p> + I think the sound surprised even herself a little, for she proceeded to + justify it at once. “I have been a better wife than a Christian this many + years. But there's a limit. And, Richard, I should never have married you + if you had told me we were to be at war all our lives with our next + neighbor, that everybody respects. To live in the country, and not speak + to our only neighbor, that is a life I never would have left my father's + house for. Not that I complain: if you have been bitter to them, you have + always been good and kind to me; and I hope I have done my best to deserve + it; but when a sick lady, and perhaps dying, holds out her hand to me—-write + her one of your cold-blooded letters! That I WON'T. Reply? my reply will + be just putting on my bonnet and going to her this afternoon. It is + Passion-week, too; and that's not a week to play the heathen. Poor lady! + I've seen in her sweet eyes this many years that she would gladly be + friends with me; and she never passed me close but she bowed to me, in + church or out, even when we were at daggers drawn. She is a lady, a real + lady, every inch. But it is not that altogether. No, if a sick woman + called me to her bedside this week, I'd go, whether she wrote from + Huntercombe Hall or the poorest house in the place; else how could I hope + my Saviour would come to <i>my</i> bedside at my last hour?” + </p> + <p> + This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to be sure, + but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Bassett, and enraptured + Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother's neck, and cried, + “Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best woman in England, and now I + know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well,” said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, “Did I + ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not set up + your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox. Unfortunately, + she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the best, and she is + going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Bassett will turn our mother + inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her; you are a shrewd + girl.” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter will not go till she is asked,” said Mrs. Bassett, firmly. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Richard, dryly, “let us hope the Lord will protect + you, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den.” + </p> + <p> + No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the words of + faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall. + </p> + <p> + After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room where Lady + Bassett was lying on a sofa. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her. + </p> + <p> + She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that it + rather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Bassett changed her + style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, and + gentle amity, not overdone. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other in + silence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill. + </p> + <p> + “You would have come—like this—years ago—at a word?” + faltered Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” gulped Mrs. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Then there was another long pause. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us both.” + </p> + <p> + “It will kill one of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold the + hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you take the blame?” said Mrs. Bassett. “We have both been + good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a + husband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor + woman.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassett broke + it, with some hesitation. “I hope, Lady Bassett, your present illness is + not in any way—I hope you do not fear anything more from my + husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it—especially if we + provoke him? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave + your husband cause for just resentment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, Ruperta + and I must try and keep the peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to + ask too much at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “No, bring her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell me your hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both to myself.” + </p> + <p> + While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Bassett, + being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usual skill + upon her young mind. + </p> + <p> + He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to see her a + countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage. + </p> + <p> + He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week, + and requested her to receive him graciously. + </p> + <p> + She promised that at once. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said he, “will be a much better match for you than the younger son + of Sir Charles Bassett. However, my girl is too proud to go into a family + where she is not welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “Much too proud for that,” said Ruperta. + </p> + <p> + He left her smarting under that suggestion. + </p> + <p> + While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Bassett came home. She + was in raptures with Lady Bassett, and told her daughter all that had + passed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett to take her + to Huntercombe to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “Me, dear!” cried Ruperta; “why, what can she want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In my opinion, + you will be <i>very</i> welcome to poor Lady Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she very ill?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett shook her head. “She is much changed. She says she should be + better if we were all at peace; but I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Bassett + received them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty and womanly + appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in a moment. She + spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion to turn to the + daughter, and to say, “May I hope, Miss Bassett, that you are on the side + of peace, like your dear mother and myself?” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said Ruperta, firmly; “I always was—especially after that + beautiful sermon, you know, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + Says the proud mother, “You might tell Lady Bassett you think it is your + mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. “If you + tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me very + presumptuous.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Lady Bassett, “enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm is + beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have no enthusiasm + seem very hard and mean to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And so they are,” said Lady Bassett warmly. + </p> + <p> + But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I can + only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta a beautiful + and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and Ruperta was + charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touched and interested by + her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made friends; but it was + not till the third visit, when many kind things had passed between them, + that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she had at heart. “My dear,” + said she to Ruperta, “when I first saw you, I wondered at my son Compton's + audacity in loving a young lady so much more advanced than himself; but + now I must be frank with you; I think the poor boy's audacity was only a + proper courage. He has all my sympathy, and, if he is not quite + indifferent to you, let me just put in my word, and say there is not a + young lady in the world I could bear for my daughter-in-law, now I have + seen and talked with you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Lady Bassett,” said Mrs. Bassett; “and, since you have said so + much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to my + daughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THE + TIPPET.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta only blushed, + and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the feats of her + childhood. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly, + “You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for a + peacemaker partly.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” said Lady Bassett, “you are speaking riddles to me; what + tippet?” + </p> + <p> + “The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my girl, + that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me keeping it, + Lady Bassett—I know I was little better than a thief; but it was + only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady Bassett, I have + loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, you are a mother;” + and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, “why do you keep saying he is only a + boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years of age, he must have a + manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of any other son-in-law; and + when you are a mother you'll understand many things, and, for one, you'll—under—stand—why + I'm so—fool—ish; seeing the sweet boy's mother ready—to + cry—too—oh! oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet cry + together in each other's arms. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought not to + agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill. + </p> + <p> + “And that is true, my good, sensible girl,” said Mrs. Bassett; “but it has + lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it to myself any + longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so I suppose you + think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you warm.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, mamma,” said Ruperta, reproachfully. “I spoke to dear + Compton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my own girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I never will, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urged to + declare her real sentiments. + </p> + <p> + By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest she should + be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle in her own + mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal tried her hard. + </p> + <p> + She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, pretty + firmly and very slowly, “I had always a great affection for my cousin + Compton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but a + boy; now I—” + </p> + <p> + A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty and conscious + womanhood, completed the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “He will get older every day,” said Mrs. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “And so shall I.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your full + growth. He hasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with the dear girl,” said Lady Bassett, adroitly. “Compton, with + his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present. But it + is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage; what I + fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. To speak plainly, + I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, and visits at + Highmore.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has been there twice.” + </p> + <p> + “He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and he is + not a boy, for he has long mustaches.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects,” said + the fair young beauty. + </p> + <p> + “You are an extraordinary girl.” + </p> + <p> + “That she is,” said Mrs. Bassett. “Her father has no more power over her + than I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett put in her word. “Well, but this one thing is the happiness + or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for looking well before + she leaps.” + </p> + <p> + A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Lady Bassett, tenderly, “it is something to have two mothers + when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, my love; I would + try and live for you.” + </p> + <p> + This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett's neck, + and they kissed each other like mother and daughter. + </p> + <p> + “This is too great a temptation,” said Ruperta. “Yes; I <i>will</i> engage + myself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Without his + consent I could not marry any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot,” said Mrs. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta shook her head. “Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years to + gain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate as + fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall not take years, nor yet months,” said Lady Bassett. “I know <i>Mr. + Bassett's</i> objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may.” + </p> + <p> + This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Said Lady Bassett firmly, “Do you pledge yourself to me, if I can obtain + Mr. Bassett's consent?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Ruperta. “But—” + </p> + <p> + “You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hope to + show you you are mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies rose to go: Lady Bassett took leave of them thus: “Good-by, my + most valued friend, and sister in sorrow; good-by, my dear daughter.” + </p> + <p> + At the gate of Huntercombe, whom should they meet but Compton Bassett, + looking very pale and unhappy. + </p> + <p> + He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta; but he gazed on her with a + wistful and terrified look that was very touching. She gave him a soft + pitying smile in return, that drove him almost wild with hope. + </p> + <p> + That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. + </p> + <p> + When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their soft accents, he returned + short, surly answers. Evidently a storm was brewing. + </p> + <p> + At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta's repeated visits to Huntercombe + Hall. “You are not dealing fairly with me, you two,” said he. “I allowed + you to go once to see a woman that says she is very ill; but I warned you + she was the cunningest woman in creation, and would make a fool of you + both; and now I find you are always going. This will not do. She is + netting two simple birds that I have the care of. Now, listen to me; I + forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. Do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “We hear you, papa,” said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; “we must be deaf, if we + did not.” + </p> + <p> + Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a request, it is a command.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. “And a most tyrannical one,” + said she. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta put her hand before her mother's mouth, then turned to her father. + </p> + <p> + “There was no need to express your wish so harshly, papa. We shall obey.” + </p> + <p> + Then she whispered her mother, “And Mr. Rutland shall pay for it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett communicated this behest to Lady Bassett in a letter. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Bassett summoned all her courage, and sent for her son Compton. + “Compton,” said she, “I must speak to Reginald. Can you find him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I can find him. I am sorry to say anybody can find him at this + time of day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly like to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think his peculiarities have escaped me?” + </p> + <p> + “At the public-house.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to come to me.” + </p> + <p> + Compton went to the public-house, and there, to his no small disgust, + found Mr. Reginald Bassett playing the fiddle, and four people, men and + women, dancing to the sound, while one or two more smoked and looked on. + </p> + <p> + Compton restrained himself till the end of that dance, and then stepped up + to Reginald and whispered him, “Mamma wants to see you directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her I'm busy.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell her nothing of the kind. You know she is very ill, and has + not seen you yet; and now she wants to. So come along at once, like a good + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Youngster,” said Reginald, “it is a rule with me never to leave a young + woman for an old one.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor my grandmother either.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you were born without a heart. But you shall come, whether you like + it or not—though I have to drag you there by the throat.” + </p> + <p> + “Learn to spell 'able' first.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll spell it on your head, if you don't come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is the game, young un, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't let us have a shindy on the bricks; there is a nice little + paddock outside. Come out there and I'll give you a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; I don't feel inclined to assist you in degrading our family.” + </p> + <p> + “Chaps that are afraid to fight shouldn't threaten. Come now, the first + knock-down blow shall settle it. If I win, you stay here and dance with + us. If you win, I go to the old woman.” + </p> + <p> + Compton consented, somewhat reluctantly; but to do him justice, his + reluctance arose entirely from his sense of relationship, and not from any + fear of his senior. + </p> + <p> + The young gentlemen took off their coats, and proceeded to spar without + any further ceremony. + </p> + <p> + Reginald, whose agility was greater than his courage, danced about on the + tips of his toes, and succeeded in planting a tap or two on Compton's + cheek. + </p> + <p> + Compton smarted under these, and presently, in following his antagonist, + who fought like a shadow, he saw Ruperta and her mother looking + horror-stricken over the palings. + </p> + <p> + Infuriated with Reginald for this exposure, he rushed in at him, received + a severe cut over the eye, but dealt him with his mighty Anglo-Saxon arm a + full straightforward smasher on the forehead, which knocked him head over + heels like a nine-pin. + </p> + <p> + That active young man picked himself up wondrous slowly; rheumatism seemed + to have suddenly seized his well-oiled joints; he then addressed his + antagonist, in his most ingratiating tones—“All right, sir,” said + he. “You are the best man. I'll go to the old lady this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see you go,” said Compton, sternly; “and mind I can run as well as + hit: so none of your gypsy tricks with me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he came sheepishly to the palings and said, “It is not my fault, Miss + Bassett; he would not come to mamma without, and she wants to speak to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he is hurt! he is wounded!” cried Ruperta. “Come here to me.” + </p> + <p> + He came to her, and she pressed her white handkerchief tenderly on his + eyebrow; it was bleeding a little. + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you coming?” said Reginald, ironically, “or do <i>you</i> like + young women better than old ones?” + </p> + <p> + Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, laid his hand on the + palings, vaulted over, and followed Reginald. + </p> + <p> + “That's your <i>boy,”</i> said Mrs. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, darling?” + </p> + <p> + “The fighting—the blood”—said Ruperta, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed her. + </p> + <p> + When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, they rather enjoyed the + thing, especially Ruperta: she detested Reginald for his character, and + for having insulted her father. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden, she cried out, “He has taken my handkerchief. How dare + he?” And she affected anger. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, “we have got his tippet.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. + </h2> + <p> + COULD any one have looked through the keyhole at Lady Bassett waiting for + Reginald, he would have seen, by the very movements of her body, the + terrible agitation of the mind. She rose—she sat down—she + walked about with wild energy—she dropped on the sofa, and appeared + to give it up as impossible; but ere long that deadly languor gave way to + impatient restlessness again. + </p> + <p> + At last her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, accompanied by no + rustle of petticoats, and yet the footstep was not Compton's. + </p> + <p> + Instantly she glanced with momentary terror toward the door. + </p> + <p> + There was a tap. + </p> + <p> + She sat down, and said, with a tone from which all agitation was instantly + banished, “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and the swarthy Reginald, diabolically handsome, with his + black snaky curls, entered the room. + </p> + <p> + She rose from her chair, and fixed her great eyes on him, as if she would + read him soul and body before she ventured to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, mamma: sorry to see you look so ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Bassett, without relaxing for a moment + that searching gaze. + </p> + <p> + She said, still covering him with her eye, “Would you cure me if you + could?” + </p> + <p> + To appreciate this opening, and Lady Bassett's sweet engaging manner, you + must understand that this young man was, in her eyes, a sort of black + snake. Her flesh crept, with fear and repugnance, at the sight of him. Yet + that is how she received him, being a mother defending her favorite son. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I would,” said Reginald. “Just you tell me how.” + </p> + <p> + Excellent words. But the lady's calm infallible eye saw a cunning twinkle + in those black twinkling orbs. Young as he was, he was on his guard, and + waiting for her. Nor was this surprising: Reginald, naturally intelligent, + had accumulated a large stock of low cunning in his travels and adventures + with the gypsies, a smooth and cunning people. Lady Bassett's fainting + upon his return, his exclusion from her room, and one or two minor + circumstances, had set him thinking. + </p> + <p> + The moment she saw that look, Lady Bassett, with swift tact, glided away + from the line she had intended to open, and, after merely thanking him, + and saying, “I believe you, dear,” though she did not believe him, she + resumed, in a very impressive tone, “You see me worse than ever to-day, + because my mind is in great trouble. The time is come when I must tell you + a secret, which will cause you a bitter disappointment. Why I send for you + is, to see whether I cannot do something for you to make you happy, in + spite of that cruel disappointment.” + </p> + <p> + Not a word from Reginald. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bassett—forgive me, if you can—for I am the most + miserable woman in England—you are not the heir to this place; you + are not Sir Charles Bassett's son.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” shouted the young man. + </p> + <p> + Her fortitude gave way for a moment. She shook her head, in confirmation + of what she had said, and hid her burning face and scalding tears in her + white and wasted hands. + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. + </p> + <p> + Reginald was asking himself if this could be true, or was it a maneuver to + put her favorite Compton over his head. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett looked up, and saw this paltry suspicion in his face. She + dried her tears directly, and went to a bureau, unlocked it, and produced + the manuscript confession she had prepared for her husband. + </p> + <p> + She bade Reginald observe the superscription and the date. + </p> + <p> + When he had done so, she took her scissors and opened it for him. + </p> + <p> + “Read what I wrote to my beloved husband at a time when I expected soon to + appear before my Judge.” + </p> + <p> + She then sank upon the sofa, and lay there like a log; only, from time to + time, during the long reading, tears trickled from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Reginald read the whole story, and saw the facts must be true: more than + that, being young, and a man, he could not entirely resist the charm of a + narrative in which a lady told at full the love, the grief, the terror, + the sufferings, of her heart, and the terrible temptation under which she + had gone astray. + </p> + <p> + He laid it down at last, and drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “It's a devil of a job for <i>me,”</i> said he; “but I can't blame you. + You sold that Dick Bassett, and I hate him. But what is to become of <i>me?”</i> + </p> + <p> + “What I offer you is a life in which you will be happier than you ever + could be at Huntercombe. I mean to buy you vast pasture-fields in + Australia, and cattle to feed. Those noble pastures will be bounded only + by wild forests and hills. You will have swift horses to ride over your + own domain, or to gallop hundreds of miles at a stretch, if you like. No + confinement there; no fences and boundaries; all as free as air. No + monotony: one week you can dig for gold, another you can ride among your + flocks, another you can hunt. All this in a climate so delightful that you + can lie all night in the open air, without a blanket, under a new + firmament of stars, not one of which illumines the dull nights of Europe.” + </p> + <p> + The bait was too tempting. “Well, you <i>are</i> the right sort,” cried + Reginald. + </p> + <p> + But presently he began to doubt. “But all that will cost a lot of money.” + </p> + <p> + “It will, but I have a great deal of money.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald thought, and said, suspiciously, “I don't know why you should do + all this for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not? What! when I have brought you into this family, and + encouraged you in such vast expectations, could I, in honor and common + humanity, let you fall into poverty and neglect? No. I have many thousand + pounds, all my own, and you will have them all, and perhaps waste them + all; but it will take you some time, because, while you are wasting, I + shall be saving more for you.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was a pause, each waiting for the other. + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Bassett said, quietly, and with great apparent composure, “Of + course there is a condition attached to all this.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I must receive from you a written paper, signed by yourself and by Mrs. + Meyrick, acknowledging that you are not Sir Charles's son, but distinctly + pledging yourself to keep the secret so long as I continue to furnish you + with the means of living. You hesitate. Is it not fair?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it looks fair; but it is an awkward thing, signing a paper of that + sort.” + </p> + <p> + “You doubt me, sir; you think that, because I have told one great + falsehood, from good but erring motives, I may break faith with you. Do + not insult me with these doubts, sir. Try and understand that there are + ladies and gentlemen in the world, though you prefer gypsies. Have you + forgotten that night when you laid me under so deep a debt, and I told you + I never would forget it? From that day was I not always your friend? was I + not always the one to make excuses for you?” + </p> + <p> + Reginald assented to that. + </p> + <p> + “Then trust me. I pledge you my honor that I am this day the best friend + you ever had, or ever can have. Refuse to sign that paper, and I shall + soon be in my grave, leaving behind me my confession, and other evidence, + on which you will be dismissed from this house with ignominy, and without + a farthing; for your best friend will be dead, and you will have killed + her.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her full: he said, with a shade of compunction, “I am not a + gentleman, but you are a lady. I'll trust you. I'll sign anything you + like.” + </p> + <p> + “That confidence becomes you,” said Lady Bassett; “and now I have no + objection to show you I deserve it. Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, by + which you may learn I have already placed three thousand pounds to his + account, to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where he has + many confidential friends; and this is a check for five hundred pounds I + drew in your favor yesterday. Do me the favor to take it.” + </p> + <p> + He did her that favor with sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Now here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your signature will be of + little value to me without Mary Meyrick's.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure? Men can be brought to take a dispassionate view of their + own interest, but women are not so wise. Take it, and try her. If she + refuses, bring her to me <i>directly.</i> Do you understand? Otherwise, in + one fatal hour, her tongue will ruin <i>you,</i> and destroy me.” + </p> + <p> + Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. Meyrick, and told + her, in an off-hand way, she must sign that paper directly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at it and turned very white, but went on her guard directly. + </p> + <p> + “Sign such a wicked lie as that!” said she. “That I never will. You <i>are</i> + his son, and Huntercombe shall be yours. She is an unnatural mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Gammon!” said Reginald. “You might as well say a fox is the son of a + gander. Come now; I am not going to let you cut my throat with your + tongue. Sign at once, or else come to her this moment and tell her so.” + </p> + <p> + “That I will,” said Mary Meyrick, “and give her my mind.” + </p> + <p> + This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she cast eyes upon Lady + Bassett, and saw how wan and worn she looked. + </p> + <p> + She moderated her violence, and said, sullenly, “Sorry to gainsay <i>you,</i> + my lady, and you so ill, but this is a paper I never can sign. It would + rob him of Huntercombe. I'd sooner cut my hand off at the wrist.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Mary!” said Lady Bassett, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + She then proceeded to reason with her, but it was no use. Mary would not + listen to reason, and defied her at last in a loud voice. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Lady Bassett. “Then since you will not do it my way, it + shall be done another way. I shall put my confession in Sir Charles's + hands, and insist on his dismissing him from the house, and you from your + farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended for Reginald I shall leave + to Compton.” + </p> + <p> + “These are idle words, my lady. You daren't.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare anything when once I make up my mind to die.” + </p> + <p> + She rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + Mary Meyrick affected contempt. + </p> + <p> + A servant came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. + </h2> + <h3> + “DON'T you be a fool,” said Reginald to his nurse. + </h3> + <p> + “Sir Charles will send you to prison for it,” said Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “For what I done along with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he will not punish his wife; he will look out for some other victim.” + </p> + <p> + “Sign, you d—d old fool!” cried Reginald, seizing Mary Meyrick + roughly by the arm. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of majestic horror. + She held up her hand, and said, “Do not dare to lay a finger on her!” + </p> + <p> + Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign the paper. + </p> + <p> + While she was signing it, Sir Charles's step was heard in the corridor. + </p> + <p> + He knocked at the door just as she signed. Reginald had signed already. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, and the book into the + bureau, and said “Come in,” with an appearance of composure belied by her + beating heart. + </p> + <p> + “Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + In those few seconds so perfect a liar as Mary Meyrick had quite recovered + herself. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” said she, “I be come to ast if you will give us a + new lease, for ourn it is run out.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better talk to the steward about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” and she made her courtesy. + </p> + <p> + Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Lady Bassett, “Reginald has come to bid us good-by. He is + going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and take his advice, if you have no objection.” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with more respect than he does + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, when Lady Bassett + said, “Won't you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away?” + </p> + <p> + He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his ear, “Be true to me, + as I will be to you.” + </p> + <p> + Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with exhaustion. She lay + on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat beside her, and made her drink a glass of + wine. + </p> + <p> + She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she slept: a load was off + her mind for the present. + </p> + <p> + Next day she was so much better she came down to dinner. + </p> + <p> + What she now hoped was, that entire separation, coupled with the memory of + the boy's misdeeds, would cure Sir Charles entirely of his affection for + Reginald; and so that, after about twenty years more of conjugal fidelity, + she might find courage to reveal to her husband the fault of her youth at + a time when all its good results remained to help excuse it, and all its + bad results had vanished. + </p> + <p> + Such was the plan this extraordinary woman conceived, and its success so + far had a wonderful effect on her health. + </p> + <p> + But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear either from Reginald or + Mr. Rolfe. That made her a little anxious. + </p> + <p> + On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry flush on his brow, + whether she had not sent Reginald up to London. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” said Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is not gone, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “He is living at his nurse's. I saw him talking to an old gypsy that lives + on the farm.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, mamma,” said Compton. “Your other children must love you all + the more.” + </p> + <p> + This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. She divined bad + faith and all manner of treachery, none the less terrible for being vague. + </p> + <p> + Down went her health again and her short-lived repose. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm on a little + business of his own. + </p> + <p> + He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, and was waiting for + a dark and gusty night. + </p> + <p> + He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, spite and greed, + especially the latter. He would never have undertaken it with a 500 pound + check in his pocket; but some minds are so constituted they cannot forego + a bad design once formed: so Mr. Reginald persisted, though one great + motive existed no longer. + </p> + <p> + On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him. + </p> + <p> + The night was favorable, and at about two o'clock Reginald and the foreign + gent stood under Richard Bassett's dining-room window, with crape over + their eyes, noses and mouths, and all manner of unlawful implements in + their pockets. + </p> + <p> + The foreign gent prized the shutters open with a little crowbar; he then, + with a glazier's diamond, soon cut out a small pane, inserted a cunning + hand and opened the window. + </p> + <p> + Then Reginald gave him a leg, and he got into the room. + </p> + <p> + The agile youth followed him without assistance. + </p> + <p> + They lighted a sort of bull's-eye, and poured the concentrated light on + the cupboard door, behind which lay the treasure of glorious old plate. + </p> + <p> + Then the foreign gent produced his skeleton keys, and after several + ineffective trials, opened the door softly and revealed the glittering + booty. + </p> + <p> + At sight of it the foreign gent could not suppress an ejaculation, but the + younger one clapped his hand before his mouth hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + The foreign gent unrolled a sort of green baize apron he had round him; it + was, in reality, a bag. + </p> + <p> + Into this receptacle the pair conveyed one piece of plate after another + with surprising dexterity, rapidity, and noiseless-ness. When it was full, + they began to fill the deep pockets of their shooting-jackets. + </p> + <p> + While thus employed, they heard a rapid footstep, and Richard Bassett + opened the door. He was in his trousers and shirt, and had a pistol in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + At sight of him Reginald uttered a cry of dismay; the foreign gent blew + out the light. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett, among whose faults want of personal courage was not one, + rushed forward and collared Reginald. + </p> + <p> + But the foreign gent had raised the crowbar to defend himself, and struck + him a blow on the head that made him stagger back. + </p> + <p> + The foreign gent seized this opportunity, and ran at once at the window + and jumped at it. + </p> + <p> + If Reginald had been first, he would have gone through like a cat, but the + foreign gent, older, and obstructed by the contents of his pocket, higgled + and stuck a few seconds in the window. + </p> + <p> + That brief delay was fatal; Richard Bassett leveled his pistol + deliberately at him, fired, and sent a ball through his shoulder; he fell + like a log upon the ground outside. + </p> + <p> + Richard then leveled another barrel at Reginald, but he howled out for + quarter, and was immediately captured, and with the assistance of the + brave Jessie, who now came boldly to her master's aid, his hands were tied + behind him and he was made prisoner, with the stolen articles in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said it was only a lark; he + never meant to keep anything. He offered a hundred pounds down if they + would let him off. + </p> + <p> + But there was no mercy for him. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected the prisoner. He + lifted his crape veil, and said “Oho!” + </p> + <p> + “You see it was only a lark,” said Reginald, and shook in every limb. + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He gave Jessie strict + orders to hold her tongue, and she and he between them took Reginald and + locked him up in a small room adjoining the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + They then went to look for the other burglar. + </p> + <p> + He had emptied his pockets of all the plate, and crawled away. It is + supposed he threw away the plate, either to soften Reginald's offense, or + in the belief that he had received his death wound, and should not require + silver vessels where he was going. + </p> + <p> + Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, and told Jessie to + light the fire and make him a cup of coffee. + </p> + <p> + He replaced all the plate, except the articles left in Reginald's pocket. + </p> + <p> + Then he went upstairs, and told his wife that burglars had broken into the + house, but had taken nothing; she was to give herself no anxiety. He told + her no more than this, for his dark and cruel nature had already conceived + an idea he did not care to communicate to her, on account of the strong + opposition he foresaw from so good a Christian: besides, of late, since + her daughter came home to back her, she had spoken her mind more than + once. + </p> + <p> + He kept them then in the dark, and went downstairs again to his coffee. + </p> + <p> + He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. + </p> + <p> + All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from Huntercombe + returned to his mind; and now, with one masterstroke he would balance them + all. + </p> + <p> + Yet he felt a little compunction. + </p> + <p> + Active hostilities had ceased for many years. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to his wife. The blow + he meditated was very cruel: would not his wife and daughter say it was + barbarous? Would not his own heart, the heart of a father, reproach him + afterward? + </p> + <p> + These misgivings, that would have restrained a less obstinate man, + irritated Richard Bassett: he went into a rage, and said aloud, “I must do + it: I will do it, come what may.” + </p> + <p> + He told Jessie he valued her much: she should have a black silk gown for + her courage and fidelity; but she must not be faithful by halves. She must + not breathe one word to any soul in the house that the burglar was there + under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her out of the house that + moment. + </p> + <p> + “Hets!” said the woman, “der ye think I canna haud my whist, when the + maister bids me? I'm nae great clasher at ony time, for my pairt.” + </p> + <p> + At seven o'clock in the morning he sent a note to Sir Charles Bassett, to + say that his house had been attacked last night by two armed burglars; he + and his people had captured one, and wished to take him before a + magistrate at once, since his house was not a fit place to hold him + secure. He concluded Sir Charles would not refuse him the benefit of the + law, however obnoxious he might be. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles's lips curled with contempt at the man who was not ashamed to + put such a doubt on paper. + </p> + <p> + However, he wrote back a civil line, to say that of course he was at Mr. + Bassett's service, and would be in his justice-room at nine o'clock. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Mr. Richard Bassett went for the constable and an assistant; + but, even to them, he would not say precisely what he wanted them for. + </p> + <p> + His plan was to march an unknown burglar, with his crape on his face, into + Sir Charles's study, give his evidence, and then reveal the son to the + father. + </p> + <p> + Jessie managed to hold her tongue for an hour or two, and nothing occurred + at Highmore or in Huntercombe to interfere with Richard Bassett's + barbarous revenge. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, however, something remarkable had occurred at the distance of a + mile and a quarter. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick breakfasted habitually at eight o'clock. + </p> + <p> + Reginald did not appear. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Meyrick went to his room, and satisfied herself he had not passed the + night there. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to the foreign gent's shed. + </p> + <p> + He was not there. + </p> + <p> + Then she went out, and called loudly to them both. + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + Then she went into the nearest meadow, to see if they were in sight. + </p> + <p> + The first thing she saw was the foreign gent staggering toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Drunk!” said she, and went to scold him; but, when she got nearer, she + saw at once that something very serious had happened. His dark face was + bloodless and awful, and he could hardly drag his limbs along; indeed they + had failed him a score of times between Highmore and that place. + </p> + <p> + Just as she came up with him he sank once more to the ground, and turned + up two despairing eyes toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, daddy! what is it? Where's Reginald? Whatever have they done to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Brandy!” groaned the wounded man. + </p> + <p> + She flew into the house, and returned in a moment with a bottle. She put + it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + He revived and told her all, in a few words. + </p> + <p> + “The young bloke and I went to crack a crib. I'm shot with a bullet. Hide + me in that loose hay there; leave me the bottle, and let nobody come nigh + me. The beak will be after me very soon.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Meyrick, being a very strong woman, dragged him to the haystack, + and covered him with loose hay. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said she, trembling, “where's my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “He's nabbed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “And he'll be lagged, unless you can beg him off.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream. + </p> + <p> + “You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him with five hundred pounds in + his pocket, and my lady's favor. Oh, why did we not keep our word with + her? She was the wisest, and our best friend. But it is all your doing; + you are the devil that tempted him, you old villain!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't miscall me,” said the gypsy. + </p> + <p> + “Not miscall you, when you have run away, and left them to take my boy to + jail! No word is bad enough for you, you villain!” + </p> + <p> + <i>“I'm your father—and a dying man,”</i> said the old gypsy, + calmly, and folded his hands upon his breast with Oriental composure and + decency. + </p> + <p> + The woman threw herself on her knees. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, father—tell me, where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Highmore House.” + </p> + <p> + At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild horror, she uttered a loud + scream, and flew into the house. + </p> + <p> + In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore. + </p> + <p> + She reached that house, knocked hastily at the door, and said she must see + Mr. Richard Bassett that moment. + </p> + <p> + “He is just gone out,” said the maid. + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + The girl knew her, and began to gossip. “Why, to Huntercombe Hall. What! + haven't you heard, Mrs. Meyrick? Master caught a robber last night. Laws! + you should have seen him: he have got crape all over his face; and master, + and the constable, and Mr. Musters, they be all gone with him to Sir + Charles, for to have him committed—the villain! Why, what ails the + woman?” + </p> + <p> + For Mary Meyrick turned her back on the speaker, and rushed away in a + moment. + </p> + <p> + She went through the kitchen at Huntercombe: she was so well known there, + nobody objected: she flew up the stairs, and into Lady Bassett's bedroom. + “Oh, my lady! my lady!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett screamed, at her sudden entrance and wild appearance. + </p> + <p> + Mary Meyrick told her all in a few wild words. She wrung her hands with a + great fear. + </p> + <p> + “It's no time for that,” cried Mary, fiercely. “Come down this moment, and + save him.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I?” + </p> + <p> + “You must! You shall!” cried the other. “Don't ask me how. Don't sit + wringing your hands, woman. If you are not there in five minutes to save + him, I'll tell all.” + </p> + <p> + “Have mercy on me!” cried Lady Bassett. “I gave him money, I sent him + away. It's not my fault.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter; he must be saved, or I'll ruin you. I can't stay here: I must + be there, and so must you.” + </p> + <p> + She rushed down the stairs, and tried to get into the justice-room, but + admission was refused her. + </p> + <p> + Then she gave a sort of wild snarl, and ran round to the small room + adjoining the justice-room. Through this she penetrated, and entered the + justice-room, but not in time to prevent the evidence from being laid + before Sir Charles. + </p> + <p> + What took place in the meantime was briefly this: The prisoner, handcuffed + now instead of tied, was introduced between the constable and his + assistant; the door was locked, and Sir Charles received Mr. Bassett with + a ceremonious bow, seated himself, and begged Mr. Bassett to be seated. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mr. Bassett, but did not seat himself. He stood before + the prisoner and gave his evidence; during which the prisoner's knees were + seen to knock together with terror: he was a young man fit for folly, but + not for felony. + </p> + <p> + Said Richard Bassett, “I have a cupboard containing family plate. It is + valuable, and some years ago I passed a piece of catgut from the door + through the ceiling to a bell at my bedside. + </p> + <p> + “Very late last night the bell sounded. I flung on my trousers, and went + down with a pistol. I caught two burglars in the act of rifling the + cupboard. I went to collar one; he struck me on the head with a crowbar—constable, + show the crowbar—I staggered, but recovered myself, and fired at one + of the burglars: he was just struggling through the window. He fell, and I + thought he was dead, but he got away. I secured the other, and here he is—just + as he was when I took him. Constable, search his pockets.” + </p> + <p> + The constable did so, and produced therefrom several pieces of silver + plate stamped with the Bassett arms. + </p> + <p> + “My servant here can confirm this,” added Mr. Bassett. + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary here,” said Sir Charles. Then to the criminal, “Have + you anything to say?” + </p> + <p> + “It was only a lark,” quavered the poor wretch. + </p> + <p> + “I would not advise you to say that where you are going.” + </p> + <p> + He then, while writing out the warrant, said, as a matter of course, + “Remove his mask.” + </p> + <p> + The constable lifted it, and started back with a shout of dismay and + surprise: Jessie screamed. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked up, and saw in the burglar he was committing for trial + his first-born, the heir to his house and his lands. + </p> + <p> + The pen fell from Sir Charles's fingers, and he stared at the wan face, + and wild, imploring eyes that stared at him. + </p> + <p> + He stared at the lad, and then put his hand to his heart, and that heart + seemed to die within him. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, and a horror fell on all. Even Richard Bassett + quailed at what he had done. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! cruel man! cruel man!” moaned the broken father. “God judge you for + this—as now I must judge my unhappy son. Mr. Bassett, it matters + little to you what magistrate commits you, and I must keep my oath. I am—going—to + set you an—example, by signing a warrant—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” cried a woman's voice, and Mary Meyrick rushed into the + room. + </p> + <p> + Every person there thought he knew Mary Meyrick; yet she was like a + stranger to them now. There was that in her heart at that awful moment + which transfigured a handsome but vulgar woman into a superior being. Her + cheek was pale, her black eyes large, and her mellow voice had a magic + power. “You don't know what you are doing!” she cried. “Go no farther, or + you will all curse the hand that harmed a hair of his head; you, most of + all, Richard Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles, in any other case, would have sent her out of the room; but, + in his misery, he caught at the straw. + </p> + <p> + “Speak out, woman,” he said, “and save the wretched boy, if you can. I see + no way.” + </p> + <p> + “There are things it is not fit to speak before all the world. Bid those + men go, and I'll open your eyes that stay.” + </p> + <p> + Then Richard Bassett foresaw another triumph, so he told the constable and + his man they had better retire for a few minutes, “while,” said he, with a + sneer, “these wonderful revelations are being made.” + </p> + <p> + When they were gone, Mary turned to Richard Bassett, and said “Why do you + want him sent to prison?—to spite Sir Charles here, to stab his + heart through his son.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + The woman heard, and thought of many things. She flung herself on her + knees, and seized his hand. “Don't you cry, my dear old master; mine is + the only heart shall bleed. HE IS NOT YOUR SON.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Sir Charles, in a terrible voice. + </p> + <p> + “That is no news to me,” said Richard. “He is more like the parson than + Sir Charles Bassett.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame! for shame!” cried Mary Meyrick. “Oh, it becomes you to give + fathers to children when you don't know your own flesh and blood! He is + YOUR SON, RICHARD BASSETT.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“My</i> son!” roared Bassett, in utter amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Ay. I should know; FOR I AM HIS MOTHER.” + </p> + <p> + This astounding statement was uttered with all the majesty of truth, and + when she said “I am his mother,” the voice turned tender all in a moment. + </p> + <p> + They were all paralyzed; and, absorbed in this strange revelation, did not + hear a tottering footstep: a woman, pale as a corpse, and with eyes + glaring large, stood among them, all in a moment, as if a ghost had risen + from the earth. + </p> + <p> + It was Lady Bassett. + </p> + <p> + At sight of her, Sir Charles awoke from the confusion and amazement into + which Mary had thrown him, and said, “Ah—! Bella, do you hear what + she says, that he is not our son? What, then, have you agreed with your + servant to deceive your husband?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett gasped, and tried to speak; but before the words would come, + the sight of her corpse-like face and miserable agony moved Mary Wells, + and she snatched the words out of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “What is the use of questioning <i>her?</i> She knows no more than you do. + I done it all; and done it for the best. My lady's child died; I hid that + from her; for I knew it would kill her, and keep you in a mad-house. I + done for the best: I put my live child by her side, and she knew no + better. As time went on, and the boy so dark, she suspected; but know it + she couldn't till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there stands his + cruel father; cruel to me, and cruel to him. But don't you dare to harm + him; I've got all your letters, promising me marriage; I'll take them to + your wife and daughter, and they shall know it is your own flesh and blood + you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to threaten him! my darling, speak + him fair; he is your father; he may have a bit of nature in his heart + somewhere, though I could never find it.” + </p> + <p> + The young man put his hands together, like an Oriental, and said, “Forgive + me,” then sank at Richard Bassett's knees. + </p> + <p> + Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife's arm and led her, + trembling like an aspen leaf, from the room. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the prayers of Reginald and the tears of his mother would alone + have sufficed to soften Richard Bassett, but the threat of exposure to his + wife and daughter did no harm. The three soon came to terms. + </p> + <p> + Reginald to be liberated on condition of going to London by the next + train, and never setting his foot in that parish again. His mother to go + with him, and see him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herself not + to reveal the boy's real parentage to any other soul in the world. + </p> + <p> + This being settled, Richard Bassett called the constable in, and said the + young gentleman had satisfied him that it was a practical joke, though a + very dangerous one, and he withdrew the charge of felony. + </p> + <p> + The constable said he must have Sir Charles's authority for that. + </p> + <p> + A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released, and + Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, “Out of my hands you + go no more.” + </p> + <p> + Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himself, + said, with deep feeling, “My poor boy, you can never be a stranger to me. + The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment. You see now how folly + glides into crime, and crime into punishment. Take this to heart, and + never again stray from the paths of honor. Lead an honorable life; and, if + you do, write to me as if I was still your father.” + </p> + <p> + They retired, but Richard Bassett lingered, and hung his head. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles wondered what this inveterate foe could have to say now. + </p> + <p> + At last Richard said, half sullenly, yet with a touch of compunction, “Sir + Charles, you have been more generous than I was. You have laid me under an + obligation.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles bowed loftily. + </p> + <p> + “You would double that obligation if you would prevail on Lady Bassett to + keep that old folly of mine secret from my wife and daughter. I am truly + ashamed of it; and, whatever my faults may have been, they love and + respect me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bassett,” said Sir Charles, “my son Compton must be told that he is + my heir; but no details injurious to you shall transpire: you may count on + absolute secrecy from Lady Bassett and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Charles,” said Richard Bassett, faltering for a moment, “I am very + much obliged to you, and I begin to be sorry we are enemies. + Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed Lady Bassett on the + spot. She lay all that day in a state of utter prostration. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Sir Charles put this and that together, but said nothing. He + spoke cheerfully and philosophically to his wife—said it had been a + fearful blow, terrible wrench: but it was all for the best; such a son as + that would have broken his heart before long. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but your wasted affections!” groaned Lady Bassett; and her tears + streamed at the thought. + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while, “Is affection ever entirely + wasted? My love for that young fool enlarged my heart. There was a time he + did me a deal of good.” + </p> + <p> + But next day, having only herself to think of now, Lady Bassett could live + no longer under the load of deceit. She told Sir Charles Mary Meyrick had + deceived him. “Read this,” she said, “and see what your miserable wife has + done, who loved you to madness and crime.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles looked at her, and saw in her wasted form and her face that, + if he did read it, he should kill her; so he played the man: he restrained + himself by a mighty effort, and said, “My dear, excuse me; but on this + matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick's exactness than in yours. + Besides, I know your heart, and don't care to be told of your errors in + judgment, no, not even by yourself. Sorry to offend an authoress; but I + decline to read your book, and, more than that, I forbid you the subject + entirely for the next thirty years, at least. Let by-gones be by-gones.” + </p> + <p> + That eventful morning Mr. Rutland called and proposed to Ruperta. She + declined politely, but firmly. + </p> + <p> + She told Mrs. Bassett, and Mrs. Bassett told Richard in a nervous way, but + his answer surprised her. He said he was very glad of it; Ruperta could do + better. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bassett could not resist the pleasure of telling Lady Bassett. She + went over on purpose, with her husband's consent. + </p> + <p> + Lady Bassett asked to see Ruperta. “By all means,” said Richard Bassett, + graciously. + </p> + <p> + On her return to Highmore, Ruperta asked leave to go to the Hall every day + and nurse Lady Bassett. “They will let her die else,” said she. Richard + Bassett assented to that, too. Ruperta, for some weeks, almost lived at + the Hall, and in this emergency revealed great qualities. As the + malevolent small-pox, passing through the gentle cow, comes out the + sovereign cow-pox, so, in this gracious nature, her father's vices turned + to their kindred virtues; his obstinacy of purpose shone here a noble + constancy; his audacity became candor, and his cunning wisdom. Her + intelligence saw at once that Lady Bassett was pining to death, and a + weak-minded nurse would be fatal: she was all smiles and brightness, and + neglected no means to encourage the patient. + </p> + <p> + With this view, she promised to plight her faith to Compton the moment + Lady Bassett should be restored to health; and so, with hopes and smiles, + and the novelty of a daughter's love, she fought with death for Lady + Bassett, and at last she won the desperate battle. + </p> + <p> + This did Richard Bassett's daughter for her father's late enemy. + </p> + <p> + The grateful husband wrote to Bassett, and now acknowledged <i>his</i> + obligation. + </p> + <p> + A civil, mock-modest reply from Richard Bassett. + </p> + <p> + From this things went on step by step, till at last Compton and Ruperta, + at eighteen years of age, were formally betrothed. + </p> + <p> + Thus the children's love wore out the father's hate. + </p> + <p> + That love, so troubled at the outset, left, by degrees, the region of + romance, and rippled smoothly through green, flowery meadows. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta showed her lover one more phase of girlhood; she, who had been a + precocious and forward child, and then a shy and silent girl, came out now + a bright and witty young woman, full of vivacity, modesty, and + sensibility. Time cured Compton of his one defect. Ruperta stopped growing + at fifteen, but Compton went slowly on; caught her at seventeen, and at + nineteen had passed her by a head. He won a scholarship at Oxford, he + rowed in college races, and at last in the University race on the Thames. + </p> + <p> + Ruperta stood, in peerless beauty, dark blue from throat to feet, and saw + his boat astern of his rival, saw it come up with, and creep ahead, amid + the roars of the multitude. When she saw her lover, with bare corded arms, + as brown as a berry, and set teeth, filling his glorious part in that + manly struggle within eight yards of her, she confessed he was not a boy + now. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Bassett accepted no such evidence: being pestered to let them + marry at twenty years of age, she clogged her consent with one condition—they + must live three years at Huntercombe as man and wife. + </p> + <p> + “No boy of twenty,” said she, “can understand a young woman of that age. I + must be in the house to prevent a single misunderstanding between my + beloved children.” + </p> + <p> + The young people, who both adored her, voted the condition reasonable. + They were married, and a wing of the spacious building allotted to them. + </p> + <p> + For their sakes let us hope that their wedded life, now happily commenced, + will furnish me no materials for another tale: the happiest lives are + uneventful. + </p> + <p> + The foreign gent recovered his wound, but acquired rheumatism and a + dislike for midnight expeditions. + </p> + <p> + Reginald galloped a year or two over seven hundred miles of colony, sowing + his wild oats as he flew, but is now a prosperous squatter, very fond of + sleeping in the open air. England was not big enough for the bold + Bohemian. He does very well where he is. + </p> + <p> + Old Meyrick died, and left his wife a little estate in the next county. + Drake asked her hand at the funeral. She married him in six months, and + migrated to the estate in question; for Sir Charles refused her a lease of + his farm, not choosing to have her near him. + </p> + <p> + Her new abode was in the next parish to her sister's. + </p> + <p> + La Marsh set herself to convert Mary, and often exhorted her to penitence; + she bore this pretty well for some time, being overawed by old + reminiscences of sisterly superiority: but at last her vanity rebelled. + “Repent! and Repent!” cried she. “Why you be like a cuckoo, all in one + song. One would think I had been and robbed a church. 'Tis all very well + for you to repent, as led a fastish life at starting: <i>but I never done + nothing as I'm ashamed on.”</i> + </p> + <p> + Richard Bassett said one day to Wheeler, “Old fellow, there is not a worse + poison than Hate. It has made me old before my time. And what does it all + come to? We might just as well have kept quiet; for my grandson will + inherit Huntercombe and Bassett, after all—” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to the girl you would not ring the bells for.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Charles and Lady Bassett lead a peaceful life after all their + troubles, and renew their youth in their children, of whom Ruperta is one, + and as dear as any. + </p> + <p> + Yet there is a pensive and humble air about Lady Bassett, which shows she + still expiates her fault, though she knows it will always be ignored by + him for whose sake she sinned. + </p> + <p> + In summing her up, it may be as well to compare this with the unmixed + self-complacency of Mrs. Drake. + </p> + <p> + You men and women, who judge this Bella Bassett, be firm, and do not let + her amiable qualities or her good intentions blind you in a plain matter + of right and wrong: be charitable, and ask yourselves how often in your + lives you have seen yourselves, or any other human being, resist a + terrible temptation. + </p> + <p> + My experience is, that we resist other people's temptations nobly, and + succumb to our own. + </p> + <p> + So let me end with a line of England's gentlest satirist— + </p> + <p> + “Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be.” + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Terrible Temptation, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + +***** This file should be named 7895-h.htm or 7895-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/9/7895/ + +Produced by James Rusk, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Terrible Temptation + A Story of To-Day + +Author: Charles Reade + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7895] +Posting Date: July 22, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk + + + + + +A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION + +A STORY OF TO-DAY + + +By Charles Reade + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, London. + +A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow on the broad +mantel-piece, and made himself agreeable to a young lady, seated a +little way off, playing at work. + +To the ear he was only conversing, but his eyes dwelt on her with +loving admiration all the time. Her posture was favorable to this +furtive inspection, for she leaned her fair head over her work with a +pretty, modest, demure air, that seemed to say, "I suspect I am being +admired: I will not look to see: I might have to check it." + +The gentleman's features were ordinary, except his brow--that had power +in it--but he had the beauty of color; his sunburned features glowed +with health, and his eye was bright. On the whole, rather good-looking +when he smiled, but ugly when he frowned; for his frown was a scowl, +and betrayed a remarkable power of hating. + +Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious masses of dark red +hair, and a dazzling white neck to set it off; large, dove-like eyes, +and a blooming oval face, which would have been classical if her lips +had been thin and finely chiseled; but here came in her Anglo-Saxon +breed, and spared society a Minerva by giving her two full and rosy +lips. They made a smallish mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide when +they smiled, and ravished the beholder with long, even rows of dazzling +white teeth. + +Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all commanding. There +are people whose very bodies express character; and this tall, supple, +graceful frame of Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did her +gestures. She would take up or put down her own scissors half timidly, +and look around before threading her needle, as if to see whether any +soul objected. Her favorite word was "May I?" with a stress on the +"May," and she used it where most girls would say "I will," or nothing, +and do it. + +Mr. Richard Bassett was in love with her, and also conscious that her +fifteen thousand pounds would be a fine addition to his present income, +which was small, though his distant expectations were great. As he had +known her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable than +inflammable, he had the prudence to proceed by degrees; and that is +why, though his eyes gloated on her, he merely regaled her with the +gossip of the day, not worth recording here. But when he had actually +taken his hat to go, Bella Bruce put him a question that had been on +her mind the whole time, for which reason she had reserved it to the +very last moment. + +"Is Sir Charles Bassett in town?" said she, mighty carelessly, but +bending a little lower over her embroidery. + +"Don't know," said Richard Bassett, with such a sudden brevity and +asperity that Miss Bruce looked up and opened her lovely eyes. Mr. +Richard Bassett replied to this mute inquiry, "We don't speak." Then, +after a pause, "He has robbed me of my inheritance." + +"Oh, Mr. Bassett!" + +"Yes, Miss Bruce, the Bassett and Huntercombe estates were mine by +right of birth. My father was the eldest son, and they were entailed on +him. But Sir Charles's father persuaded my old, doting grandfather to +cut off the entail, and settle the estates on him and his heirs; and so +they robbed me of every acre they could. Luckily my little estate of +Highmore was settled on my mother and her issue too tight for the +villains to undo." + +These harsh expressions, applied to his own kin, and the abruptness and +heat they were uttered with, surprised and repelled his gentle +listener. She shrank a little away from him. He observed it. She +replied not to his words, but to her own thought: + +"But, after all, it does seem hard." She added, with a little fervor, +"But it wasn't poor Sir Charles's doing, after all." + +"He is content to reap the benefit," said Richard Bassett, sternly. + +Then, finding he was making a sorry impression, he tried to get away +from the subject. I say tried, for till a man can double like a hare he +will never get away from his hobby. "Excuse me," said he; "I ought +never to speak about it. Let us talk of something else. You cannot +enter into my feelings; it makes my blood boil. Oh, Miss Bruce! you +can't conceive what a disinherited man feels--and I live at the very +door: his old trees, that ought to be mine, fling their shadows over my +little flower beds; the sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look down on +my cottage; his acres of lawn run up to my little garden, and nothing +but a ha-ha between us." + +"It _is_ hard," said Miss Bruce, composedly; not that she entered into +a hardship of this vulgar sort, but it was her nature to soothe and +please people. + +"Hard!" cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even this faint sympathy; +"it would be unendurable but for one thing--I shall have my own some +day." + +"I am glad of that," said the lady; "but how?" + +"By outliving the wrongful heir." + +Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of men's passions. +"Oh, Mr. Bassett!" said she--and there was something pure and holy in +the look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuous +speaker--"pray do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. And +remember life and death are not in our hands. Besides--" + +"Well?"' + +"Sir Charles might--" + +"Well?" + +"Might he not--marry--and have children?" This with more hesitation and +a deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary. + +"Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends. +Charles is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton--fast at Oxford--fast +in London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three years +younger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man. +Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they +are mine--" + +"Sir Charles Bassett!" trumpeted a servant at the door; and then +waited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught +blushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another. + +"Wait a moment," said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring what +Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she +said, hurriedly: "You should not blame him for the faults of others. +There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am little +entitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends. He is +very good, I assure you, and very nice. Let me reconcile you two. _May_ +I?" + +This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed--if I +may be permitted--in a way to dissolve a bear. + +But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is placable; it was a +man with a hobby grievance; so he replied in character: + +"That is impossible so long as he keeps me out of my own." He had the +grace, however, to add, half sullenly, "Excuse me; I feel I have been +too vehement." + +Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly: + +"Oh, never mind _that;_ it was very natural.--I am at home, then," said +she to the servant. + +Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and said, with no +little agitation, "I was not aware he visits you. One word--don't let +his ill-gotten acres make you quite forget the disinherited one." And +so he left her, with an imploring look. + +She felt red with all this, so she slipped out at another door, to cool +her cheeks and imprison a stray curl for Sir Charles. + +He strolled into the empty room, with the easy, languid air of fashion. +His features were well cut, and had some nobility; but his sickly +complexion and the lines under his eyes told a tale of dissipation. He +appeared ten years older than he was, and thoroughly _blase._ + +Yet when Miss Bruce entered the room with a smile and a little blush, +he brightened up and looked handsome, and greeted her with momentary +warmth. + +After the usual inquiries she asked him if he had met any body. + +"Where?" + +"Here; just now." + +"No." + +"What, nobody at all?" + +"Only my sulky cousin; I don't call him anybody," drawled Sir Charles, +who was now relapsing into his normal condition of semi-apathy. + +"Oh," said Miss Bruce gayly, "you must expect him to be a little cross. +It is not so very nice to be disinherited, let me tell you." + +"And who has disinherited the fellow?" + +"I forget; but you disinherited him among you. Never mind; it can't be +helped now. When did you come back to town? I didn't see you at Lady +d'Arcy's ball, did I?" + +"You did not, unfortunately for me; but you would if I had known you +were to be there. But about Richard: he may tell you what he likes, but +he was not disinherited; he was bought out. The fact is, his father was +uncommonly fast. My grandfather paid his debts again and again; but at +last the old gentleman found he was dealing with the Jews for his +reversion. Then there was an awful row. It ended in my grandfather +outbidding the Jews. He bought the reversion of his estate from his own +son for a large sum of money (he had to raise it by mortgages); then +they cut off the entail between them, and he entailed the mortgaged +estate on his other son, and his grandson (that was me), and on my +heir-at-law. Richard's father squandered his thirty thousand pounds +before he died; my father husbanded the estates, got into Parliament, +and they put a tail to his name." + +Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a languid +composure that contrasted deliciously with Richard's heat in telling +the story his way (to be sure, Sir Charles had got Huntercombe and +Bassett, and it is easier to be philosophical on the right side of the +boundary hedge), and wound up with a sort of corollary: "Dick Bassett +suffers by his father's vices, and I profit by mine's virtues. Where's +the injustice?" + +"Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the better." + +Sir Charles demurred. "Oh, I don't want to quarrel with the fellow: but +he is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery estate, all +in broken patches. He shoots my pheasants in the unfairest way." Here +the landed proprietor showed real irritation, but only for a moment. He +concluded calmly, "The fact is, he is not quite a gentleman. Fancy his +coming and whining to you about our family affairs, and then telling +you a falsehood!" + +"No, no; he did not mean. It was his way of looking at things. You can +afford to forgive him." + +"Yes, but not if he sets you against me." + +"But he cannot do that. The more any one was to speak against you, the +more I--of course." + +This admission fired Sir Charles; he drew nearer, and, thanks to his +cousin's interference, spoke the language of love more warmly and +directly than he had ever done before. + +The lady blushed, and defended herself feebly. Sir Charles grew warmer, +and at last elicited from her a timid but tender avowal, that made him +supremely happy. + +When he left her this brief ecstasy was succeeded by regrets on account +of the years he had wasted in follies and intrigues. + +He smoked five cigars, and pondered the difference between the pure +creature who now honored him with her virgin affections and beauties of +a different character who had played their parts in his luxurious life. + +After profound deliberation he sent for his solicitor. They lighted the +inevitable cigars, and the following observations struggled feebly out +along with the smoke. + +"Mr. Oldfield, I'm going to be married." + +"Glad to hear it, Sir Charles." (Vision of settlements.) "It is a high +time you were." (Puff-puff.) + +"Want your advice and assistance first." + +"Certainly." + +"Must put down my pony-carriage now, you know." + +"A very proper retrenchment; but you can do that without my assistance." + +"There would be sure to be a row if I did. I dare say there will be as +it is. At any rate, I want to do the thing like a gentleman." + +"Send 'em to Tattersall's." (Puff.) + +"And the girl that drives them in the park, and draws all the duchesses +and countesses at her tail--am I to send her to Tattersall's?" (Puff.) + +"Oh, it is _her_ you want to put down, then?" + +"Why, of course." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SIR CHARLES and Mr. Oldfield settled that lady's retiring pension, and +Mr. Oldfield took the memoranda home, with instructions to prepare a +draft deed for Miss Somerset's approval. + +Meantime Sir Charles visited Miss Bruce every day. Her affections for +him grew visibly, for being engaged gave her the courage to love. + +Mr. Bassett called pretty often; but one day he met Sir Charles on the +stairs, and scowled. + +That scowl cost him dear, for Sir Charles thereupon represented to +Bella that a man with a grievance is a bore to the very eye, and asked +her to receive no more visits from his scowling cousin. The lady +smiled, and said, with soft complacency, "I obey." + +Sir Charles's gallantry was shocked. + +"No, don't say 'obey.' It is a little favor I ventured to ask." + +"It is like you to ask what you have a right to command. I shall be out +to him in future, and to every one who is disagreeable to you. What! +does 'obey' frighten you from my lips? To me it is the sweetest in the +language. Oh, please let me 'obey' you! _May_ I?" + +Upon this, as vanity is seldom out of call, Sir Charles swelled like a +turkey-cock, and loftily consented to indulge Bella Bruce's strange +propensity. From that hour she was never at home to Mr. Bassett. + +He began to suspect; and one day, after he had been kept out with the +loud, stolid "Not at home" of practiced mendacity, he watched, and saw +Sir Charles admitted. + +He divined it all in a moment, and turned to wormwood. What! was he to +be robbed of the lady he loved--and her fifteen thousand pounds--by the +very man who had robbed him of his ancestral fields? He dwelt on the +double grievance till it nearly frenzied him. But he could do nothing: +it was his fate. His only hope was that Sir Charles, the arrant flirt, +would desert this beauty after a time, as he had the others. + +But one afternoon, in the smoking-room of his club, a gentleman said to +him, "So your cousin Charles is engaged to the Yorkshire beauty, Bell +Bruce?" + +"He is flirting with her, I believe," said Richard. + +"No, no," said the other; "they are engaged. I know it for a fact. They +are to be married next month." + +Mr. Richard Bassett digested this fresh pill in moody silence, while +the gentlemen of the club discussed the engagement with easy levity. +They soon passed to a topic of wider interest, viz., who was to succeed +Sir Charles with La Somerset. Bassett began to listen attentively, and +learned for the first time Sir Charles Bassett's connection with that +lady, and also that she was a woman of a daring nature and furious +temper. At first he was merely surprised; but soon hatred and jealousy +whispered in his ear that with these materials it must be possible to +wound those who had wounded him. + +Mr. Marsh, a young gentleman with a receding chin, and a mustache +between hay and straw, had taken great care to let them all know he was +acquainted with Miss Somerset. So Richard got Marsh alone, and sounded +him. Could he call upon the lady without ceremony? + +"You won't get in. Her street door is jolly well guarded, I can tell +you." + +"I am very curious to see her in her own house." + +"So are a good many fellows." + +"Could you not give me an introduction?" + +Marsh shook his head sapiently for a considerable time, and with all +this shaking, as it appeared, out fell words of wisdom. "Don't see it. +I'm awfully spooney on her myself; and, you know, when a fellow +introduces another fellow, that fellow always cuts the other out." +Then, descending from the words of the wise and their dark sayings to a +petty but pertinent fact, he added, _"Besides,_ I'm only let in myself +about once in five times." + +"She gives herself wonderful airs, it seems," said Bassett, rather +bitterly. + +Marsh fired up. "So would any woman that was as beautiful, and as witty +and as much run after as she is. Why she is a leader of fashion. Look +at all the ladies following her round the park. They used to drive on +the north side of the Serpentine. She just held up her finger, and now +they have cut the Serpentine, and followed her to the south drive." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Bassett. "Ah then this is a great lady; a poor +country squire must not venture into her august presence." He turned +savagely on his heel, and Marsh went and made sickly mirth at his +expense. + +By this means the matter soon came to the ears of old Mr. Woodgate, the +father of that club, and a genial gossip. He got hold of Bassett in the +dinner-room and examined him. "So you want an introduction to La +Somerset, and Marsh refuses--Marsh, hitherto celebrated for his weak +head rather than his hard heart?" + +Richard Bassett nodded rather sullenly. He had not bargained for this +rapid publicity. + +The venerable chief resumed: "We all consider Marsh's conduct +unclubable and a thing to be combined against. Wanted--an +Anti-dog-in-the-manger League. I'll introduce you to the Somerset." + +"What! do _you_ visit her?" asked Bassett, in some astonishment. + +The old gentleman held up his hands in droll disclaimer, and chuckled +merrily "No, no; I enjoy from the shore the disasters of my youthful +friends--that sacred pleasure is left me. Do you see that elegant +creature with the little auburn beard and mustache, waiting sweetly for +his dinner. He launched the Somerset." + +"Launched her?" + +"Yes; but for him she might have wasted her time breaking hearts and +slapping faces in some country village. He it was set her devastating +society; and with his aid she shall devastate you.--Vandeleur, will you +join Bassett and me?" + +Mr. Vandeleur, with ready grace, said he should be delighted, and they +dined together accordingly. + +Mr. Vandeleur, six feet high, lank, but graceful as a panther, and the +pink of politeness, was, beneath his varnish, one of the wildest young +men in London--gambler, horse-racer, libertine, what not?--but in +society charming, and his manners singularly elegant and winning. He +never obtruded his vices in good company; in fact, you might dine with +him all your life and not detect him. The young serpent was torpid in +wine; but he came out, a bit at a time, in the sunshine of Cigar. + +After a brisk conversation on current topics, the venerable chief told +him plainly they were both curious to know the history of Miss +Somerset, and he must tell it them. + +"Oh, with pleasure," said the obliging youth. "Let us go into the +smoking-room." + + + +"Let--me--see. I picked her up by the sea-side. She promised well at +first. We put her on my chestnut mare, and she showed lots of courage, +so she soon learned to ride; but she kicked, even down there." + +"Kicked!--whom?" + +"Kicked all round; I mean showed temper. And when she got to London, +and had ridden a few times in the park, and swallowed flattery, there +was no holding her. I stood her cheek for a good while, but at last I +told the servants they must not turn her out, but they could keep her +out. They sided with me for once. She had ridden over them, as well. +The first time she went out they bolted the doors, and handed her boxes +up the area steps." + +"How did she take that?" + +"Easier than we expected. She said, 'Lucky for you beggars that I'm a +lady, or I'd break every d--d window in the house.'" + +This caused a laugh. It subsided. The historian resumed. + +"Next day she cooled, and wrote a letter." + +"To you?" + +"No, to my groom. Would you like to see it? It is a curiosity." + +He sent one of the club waiters for his servant, and his servant for +his desk, and produced the letter. + +"There!" said Vandeleur. "She looks like a queen, and steps like an +empress, and this is how she writes: + + +"'DEAR JORGE--i have got the sak, an' praps your turn nex. dear jorge +he alwaies promise me the grey oss, which now an oss is life an death +to me. If you was to ast him to lend me the grey he wouldn't refuse +you, + +"'Yours respecfully, + +"'RHODA SOMERSET.'" + + + +When the letter and the handwriting, which, unfortunately, I cannot +reproduce, had been duly studied and approved, Vandeleur continued-- + +"Now, you know, she had her good points, after all. If any creature was +ill, she'd sit up all night and nurse them, and she used to go to +church on Sundays, and come back with the sting out of her; only then +she would preach to a fellow, and bore him. She is awfully fond of +preaching. Her dream is to jump on a first-rate hunter, and ride across +country, and preach to the villages. So, when George came grinning to +me with the letter, I told him to buy a new side-saddle for the gray, +and take her the lot, with my compliments. I had noticed a slight +spavin in his near foreleg. She rode him that very day in the park, all +alone, and made such a sensation that next day my gray was standing in +Lord Hailey's stables. But she rode Hailey, like my gray, with a long +spur, and he couldn't stand it. None of 'em could except Sir Charles +Bassett, and he doesn't play fair--never goes near her." + +"And that gives him an unfair advantage over his fascinating +predecessors?" inquired the senior, slyly. + +"Of course it does," said Vandeleur, stoutly. "You ask a girl to dine +at Richmond once a month, and keep out of her way all the rest of the +time, and give her lots of money--she will never quarrel with you." + +"Profit by this information, young man," said old Woodgate, severely; +"it comes too late for me. In my day there existed no sure method of +pleasing the fair. But now that is invented, along with everything +else. Richmond and--absence, equivalent to 'Richmond and victory!' Now, +Bassett, we have heard the truth from the fountain-head, and it is +rather serious. She swears, she kicks, she preaches. Do you still +desire an introduction? As for me, my manly spirit is beginning to +quake at Vandeleur's revelations, and some lines of Scott recur to my +Gothic memory-- + +"'From the chafed tiger rend his prey, Bar the fell dragon's blighting +way, But shun that lovely snare."' + +Bassett replied, gravely, that he had no such motive as Mr. Woodgate +gave him credit for, but still desired the introduction. + +"With pleasure," said Vandeleur; "but it will be no use to you. She +hates me like poison; says I have no heart. That is what all +ill-tempered women say." + +Notwithstanding his misgivings the obliging youth called for writing +materials, and produced the following epistle-- + + + +"DEAR MISS SOMERSET--Mr. Richard Bassett, a cousin of Sir Charles, +wishes very much to be introduced to you, and has begged me to assist +in an object so laudable. I should hardly venture to present myself, +and, therefore, shall feel surprised as well as flattered if you will +receive Mr. Bassett on my introduction, and my assurance that he is a +respectable country gentleman, and bears no resemblance in character to + +"Yours faithfully, + +"ARTHUR VANDELEUR." + + + +Next day Bassett called at Miss Somerset's house in May Fair, and +delivered his introduction. + +He was admitted after a short delay and entered the lady's boudoir. It +was Luxury's nest. The walls were rose colored satin, padded and +puckered; the voluminous curtains were pale satin, with floods and +billows of real lace; the chairs embroidered, the tables all buhl and +ormolu, and the sofas felt like little seas. The lady herself, in a +delightful peignoir, sat nestled cozily in a sort of ottoman with arms. +Her finely formed hand, clogged with brilliants, was just conveying +brandy and soda-water to a very handsome mouth when Richard Bassett +entered. + +She raised herself superbly, but without leaving her seat, and just +looked at a chair in a way that seemed to say, "I permit you to sit +down;" and that done, she carried the glass to her lips with the same +admirable firmness of hand she showed in driving. Her lofty manner, +coupled with her beautiful but rather haughty features, smacked of +imperial origin. Yet she was the writer to "jorge," and four years ago +a shrimp-girl, running into the sea with legs as brown as a berry. + +So swiftly does merit rise in this world which, nevertheless, some +morose folk pretend is a wicked one. + +I ought to explain, however, that this haughty reception was partly +caused by a breach of propriety. Vandeleur ought first to have written +to her and asked permission to present Richard Bassett. He had no +business to send the man and the introduction together. This law a +Parliament of Sirens had passed, and the slightest breach of it was a +bitter offense Equilibrium governs the world. These ladies were bound +to be overstrict in something or other, being just a little lax in +certain things where other ladies are strict. + +Now Bassett had pondered well what he should say, but he was +disconcerted by her superb presence and demeanor and her large gray +eyes, that rested steadily upon his face. + +However, he began to murmur mellifluously. Said he had often seen her +in public, and admired her, and desired to make her acquaintance, etc., +etc. + +"Then why did you not ask Sir Charles to bring you here?" said Miss +Somerset, abruptly, and searching him with her eyes, that were not to +say bold, but singularly brave, and examiners pointblank. + +"I am not on good terms with Sir Charles. He holds the estates that +ought to be mine; and now he has robbed me of my love. He is the last +man in the world I would ask a favor of." + +"You came here to abuse him behind his back, eh?" asked the lady with +undisguised contempt. + +Bassett winced, but kept his temper. "No, Miss Somerset; but you seem +to think I ought to have come to you through Sir Charles. I would not +enter your house if I did not feel sure I shall not meet him here." + +Miss Somerset looked rather puzzled. "Sir Charles does not come here +every day, but he comes now and then, and he is always welcome." + +"You surprise me." + +"Thank you. Now some of my gentlemen friends think it is a wonder he +does not come every minute." + +"You mistake me. What surprises me is that you are such good friends +under the circumstances." + +"Circumstances! what circumstances?" + +"Oh, you know. You are in his confidence, I presume?"--this rather +satirically. So the lady answered, defiantly: + +"Yes, I am; he knows I can hold my tongue, so he tells me things he +tells nobody else." + +"Then, if you are in his confidence, you know he is about to be +married." + +"Married! Sir Charles married!" + +"In three weeks." + +"It's a lie! You get out of my house this moment!" + +Mr. Bassett colored at this insult. He rose from his seat with some +little dignity, made her a low bow, and retired. But her blood was up: +she made a wonderful rush, sweeping down a chair with her dress as she +went, and caught him at the door, clutched him by the shoulder and half +dragged him back, and made him sit down again, while she stood opposite +him, with the knuckles of one hand resting on the table. + +"Now," said she, panting, "you look me in the face and say that again." + +"Excuse me; you punish me too severely for telling the truth." + +"Well, I beg your pardon--there. Now tell me--this instant. Can't you +speak, man?" And her knuckles drummed the table. + +"He is to be married in three weeks." + +"Oh! Who to?" + +"A young lady I love." + +"Her name?" + +"Miss Arabella Bruce." + +"Where does she live?" + +"Portman Square." + +"I'll stop that marriage." + +"How?" asked Richard, eagerly. + +"I don't know; that I'll think over. But he shall not marry +her--never!" + +Bassett sat and looked up with almost as much awe as complacency at the +fury he had evoked; for this woman was really at times a poetic +impersonation of that fiery passion she was so apt to indulge. She +stood before him, her cheek pale, her eyes glittering and roving +savagely, and her nostrils literally expanding, while her tall body +quivered with wrath, and her clinched knuckles pattered on the table. + +"He shall not marry her. I'll kill him first!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +RICHARD BASSETT eagerly offered his services to break off the obnoxious +match. But Miss Somerset was beginning to be mortified at having shown +so much passion before a stranger. + +"What have you to do with it?" said she, sharply. + +"Everything. I love Miss Bruce." + +"Oh, yes; I forgot that. Anything else? There is, now. I see it in your +eye. What is it?" + + "Sir Charles's estates are mine by right, and they will return to my +line if he does not marry and have issue." + +"Oh, I see. That is so like a man. It's always love, and something more +important, with you. Well, give me your address. I'll write if I want +you." + +"Highly flattered," said Bassett, ironically-wrote his address and left +her. + +Miss Somerset then sat down and wrote: + + + +"DEAR SIR CHARLES--please call here, I want to speak to you. + +yours respecfuly, + +"RHODA SOMERSET." + + + +Sir Charles obeyed this missive, and the lady received him with a +gracious and smiling manner, all put on and catlike. She talked with +him of indifferent things for more than an hour, still watching to see +if he would tell her of his own accord. + +When she was quite sure he would not, she said, + +"Do you know there's a ridiculous report about that you are going to be +married?" + +"Indeed!" + +"They even tell her name--Miss Bruce. Do you know the girl?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she pretty?" + +"Very." + +"Modest?" + +"As an angel." + +"And are you going to marry her?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you are a villain." + +"The deuce I am!" + +"You are, to abandon a woman who has sacrificed all for you." + +Sir Charles looked puzzled, and then smiled; but was too polite to give +his thoughts vent. Nor was it necessary; Miss Somerset, whose brave +eyes never left the person she was speaking to, fired up at the smile +alone, and she burst into a torrent of remonstrance, not to say +vituperation. Sir Charles endeavored once or twice to stop it, but it +was not to be stopped; so at last he quietly took up his hat, to go. + +He was arrested at the door by a rustle and a fall. He turned round, +and there was Miss Somerset lying on her back, grinding her white teeth +and clutching the air. + +He ran to the bell and rang it violently, then knelt down and did his +best to keep her from hurting herself; but, as generally happens in +these cases, his interference made her more violent. He had hard work +to keep her from battering her head against the floor, and her arms +worked like windmills. + +Hearing the bell tugged so violently, a pretty page ran headlong into +the room--saw--and; without an instant's diminution of speed, described +a curve, and ran headlong out, screaming "Polly! Polly!" + +The next moment the housekeeper, an elderly woman, trotted in at the +door, saw her mistress's condition, and stood stock-still, calling, +"Polly," but with the most perfect tranquillity the mind can conceive. + +In ran a strapping house-maid, with black eyes and brown arms, went +down on her knees, and said, firmly though respectfully, "Give her me, +sir." + +She got behind her struggling mistress, pulled her up into her own lap, +and pinned her by the wrists with a vigorous grasp. + +The lady struggled, and ground her teeth audibly, and flung her arms +abroad. The maid applied all her rustic strength and harder muscle to +hold her within bounds. The four arms went to and fro in a magnificent +struggle, and neither could the maid hold the mistress still, nor the +mistress shake off the maid's grasp, nor strike anything to hurt +herself. + +Sir Charles, thrust out of the play looked on with pity and anxiety, +and the little page at the door--combining art and nature--stuck +stock-still in a military attitude, and blubbered aloud. + +As for the housekeeper, she remained in the middle of the room with +folded arms, and looked down on the struggle with a singular expression +of countenance. There was no agitation whatever, but a sort of +thoughtful examination, half cynical, half admiring. + +However, as soon as the boy's sobs reached her ear she wakened up, and +said, tenderly, "What is the child crying for? Run and get a basin of +water, and fling it all over her; that will bring her to in a minute." + +The page departed swiftly on this benevolent errand. + +Then the lady gave a deep sigh, and ceased to struggle. + +Next she stared in all their faces, and seemed to return to +consciousness. + +Next she spoke, but very feebly. "Help me up," she sighed. + +Sir Charles and Polly raised her, and now there was a marvelous change. +The vigorous vixen was utterly weak, and limp as a wet towel--a woman +of jelly. As such they handled her, and deposited her gingerly on the +sofa. + +Now the page ran in hastily with the water. Up jumps the poor lax +sufferer, with flashing eyes: "You dare come near me with it!" Then to +the female servants: "Call yourselves women, and water my lilac silk, +not two hours old?" Then to the housekeeper: "You old monster, you +wanted it for your Polly. Get out of my sight, _the lot!"_ + +Then, suddenly remembering how feeble she was, she sank instantly down, +and turned piteously and languidly to Sir Charles. "They eat my bread, +and rob me, and hate me," said she, faintly. "I have but one friend on +earth." She leaned tenderly toward Sir Charles as that friend; but +before she quite reached him she started back, her eyes filled with +sudden horror. "And he forsakes me!" she cried; and so turned away from +him despairingly, and began to cry bitterly, with head averted over the +sofa, and one hand hanging by her side for Sir Charles to take and +comfort her. He tried to take it. It resisted; and, under cover of that +little disturbance, the other hand dexterously whipped two pins out of +her hair. The long brown tresses--all her own--fell over her eyes and +down to her waist, and the picture of distressed beauty was complete. + +Even so did the women of antiquity conquer male pity--_"solutis +crinibus."_ + +The females interchanged a meaning glance, and retired; then the boy +followed them with his basin, sore perplexed, but learning life in this +admirable school. + +Sir Charles then, with the utmost kindness, endeavored to reconcile the +weeping and disheveled fair to that separation which circumstances +rendered necessary. But she was inconsolable, and he left the house, +perplexed and grieved; not but what it gratified his vanity a little to +find himself beloved all in a moment, and the Somerset unvixened. He +could not help thinking how wide must be the circle of his charms, +which had won the affections of two beautiful women so opposite in +character as Bella Bruce and La Somerset. + +The passion of this latter seemed to grow. She wrote to him every day, +and begged him to call on her. + +She called on him--she who had never called on a man before. + +She raged with jealousy; she melted with grief. She played on him with +all a woman's artillery; and at last actually wrung from him what she +called a reprieve. + +Richard Bassett called on her, but she would not receive him; so then +he wrote to her, urging co-operation, and she replied, frankly, that +she took no interest in his affairs; but that she was devoted to Sir +Charles, and should keep him for herself. Vanity tempted her to add +that he (Sir Charles) was with her every day, and the wedding +postponed. + +This last seemed too good to be true, so Richard Bassett set his +servant to talk to the servants in Portman Square. He learned that the +wedding was now to be on the 15th of June, instead of the 31st of May. + +Convinced that this postponement was only a blind, and that the +marriage would never be, he breathed more freely at the news. + +But the fact is, although Sir Charles had yielded so far to dread of +scandal, he was ashamed of himself, and his shame became remorse when +he detected a furtive tear in the dove-like eyes of her he really loved +and esteemed. + +He went and told his trouble to Mr. Oldfield. "I am afraid she will do +something desperate," he said. + +Mr. Oldfield heard him out, and then asked him had he told Miss +Somerset what he was going to settle on her. + +"Not I. She is not in a condition to be influenced by that, at +present." + +"Let me try her. The draft is ready. I'll call on her to-morrow." He +did call, and was told she did not know him. + +"You tell her I am a lawyer, and it is very much to her interest to see +me," said Mr. Oldfield to the page. + +He was admitted, but not to a _tete-a-tete._ Polly was kept in the +room. The Somerset had peeped, and Oldfield was an old fellow, with +white hair; if he had been a young fellow, with black hair, she might +have thought that precaution less necessary. + + "First, madam," said Oldfield, "I must beg you to accept my apologies +for not coming sooner. Press of business, etc." + +"Why have you come at all? That is the question," inquired the lady, +bluntly. + +"I bring the draft of a deed for your approval. Shall I read it to +you?" + +"Yes; if it is not very long." He began to read it. The lady +interrupted him characteristically. + +"It's a beastly rigmarole. What does it mean--in three words?" + +"Sir Charles Bassett secures to Rhoda Somerset four hundred pounds a +year, while single; this is reduced to two hundred if you marry. The +deed further assigns to you, without reserve, the beneficial lease of +this house, and all the furniture and effects, plate, linen, wine, +etc." + +"I see--a bribe." + +"Nothing of the kind, madam. When Sir Charles instructed me to prepare +this deed he expected no opposition on your part to his marriage; but +he thought it due to him and to yourself to mark his esteem for you, +and his recollection of the pleasant hours he has spent in your +company." + +Miss Somerset's eyes searched the lawyer's face. He stood the battery +unflinchingly. She altered her tone, and asked, politely and almost +respectfully, whether she might see that paper. + +Mr. Oldfield gave it her. She took it, and ran her eye over it; in +doing which, she raised it so that she could think behind it +unobserved. She handed it back at last, with the remark that Sir +Charles was a gentleman and had done the right thing. + +"He has; and you will do the right thing too, will you not?" + +"I don't know. I am just beginning to fall in love with him myself." + +"Jealousy, madam, not love," said the old lawyer. "Come, now! I see you +are a young lady of rare good sense; look the thing in the face: Sir +Charles is a landed gentleman; he must marry, and, have heirs. He is +over thirty, and his time has come. He has shown himself your friend; +why not be his? He has given you the means to marry a gentleman of +moderate income, or to marry beneath you, if you prefer it--" + +"And most of us do--" + +"Then why not make his path smooth? Why distress him with your tears +and remonstrances?" + +He continued in this strain for some time, appealing to her good sense +and her better feelings. + +When he had done she said, very quietly, "How about the ponies and my +brown mare? Are they down in the deed?" + +"I think not; but if you will do your part handsomely I'll guarantee +you shall have them." + +"You are a good soul." Then, after a pause, "Now just you tell me +exactly what you want me to do for all this." + +Oldfield was pleased with this question. He said, "I wish you to +abstain from writing to Sir Charles, and him to visit you only once +more before his marriage, just to shake hands and part, with mutual +friendship and good wishes." + +"You are right," said she, softly; "best for us both, and only fair to +the girl." Then, with sudden and eager curiosity, "Is she very pretty?" + +"I don't know." + +"What, hasn't he told you?" + +"He says she is lovely, and every way adorable; but then he is in love. +The chances are she is not half so handsome as yourself." + +"And yet he is in love with her?" + +"Over head and ears." + +"I don't believe it. If he was really in love with one woman he +couldn't be just to another. _I_ couldn't. He'll be coming back to me +in a few months." + +"God forbid!" + +"Thank you, old gentleman." + +Mr. Oldfield began to stammer excuses. She interrupted him: "Oh, bother +all that; I like you none the worse for speaking your mind." Then, +after a pause, "Now excuse me; but suppose Sir Charles should change +his mind, and never sign this paper?" + +"I pledge my professional credit." + +"That is enough, sir; I see I can trust you. Well, then, I consent to +break off with Sir Charles, and only see him once more--as a friend. +Poor Sir Charles! I hope he will be happy" (she squeezed out a tear for +him)--"happier than I am. And when he does come he can sign the deed, +you know." + +Mr. Oldfield left her, and joined Sir Charles at Long's, as had been +previously agreed. + +"It is all right, Sir Charles; she is a sensible girl, and will give +you no further trouble." + +"How did you get over the hysterics?" + +"We dispensed with them. She saw at once it was to be business, not +sentiment. You are to pay her one more visit, to sign, and part +friends. If you please, I'll make that appointment with both parties, +as soon as the deed is engrossed. Oh, by-the-by, she did shed a tear or +two, but she dried them to ask me for the ponies and the brown mare." + +Sir Charles's vanity was mortified. But he laughed it off, and said she +should have them, of course. + +So now his mind was at ease, his conscience was at rest, and he could +give his whole time where he had given his heart. + +Richard Bassett learned, through his servant, that the wedding-dresses +were ordered. He called on Miss Somerset. She was out. + +Polly opened the door and gave him a look of admiration--due to his +fresh color--that encouraged him to try and enlist her in his service. + +He questioned her, and she told him in a general way how matters were +going. "But," said she, "why not come and talk to her yourself? Ten to +one but she tells you. She is pretty outspoken." + +"My pretty dear," said Richard, "she never will receive me." + +"Oh, but I'll make her!" said Polly. + +And she did exert her influence as follows: + +"Lookee here, the cousin's a-coming to-morrow and I've been and +promised he should see you." + +"What did you do that for?" + +"Why, he's a well-looking chap, and a beautiful color, fresh from the +country, like me. And he's a gentleman, and got an estate belike; and +why not put yourn to hisn, and so marry him and be a lady? You might +have me about ye all the same, till my turn comes." + +"No, no," said Rhoda; "that's not the man for me. If ever I marry, it +must be one of my own sort, or else a fool, like Marsh, that I can make +a slave of." + +"Well, any way, you must see him, not to make a fool of _me,_ for I did +promise him; which, now I think on't, 'twas very good of me, for I +could find in my heart to ask him down into the kitchen, instead of +bringing him upstairs to you." + +All this ended, somehow, in Mr. Bassett's being admitted. + +To his anxious inquiry how matters stood, she replied coolly that Sir +Charles and herself were parted by mutual consent. + +"What! after all your protestations?" said Bassett, bitterly. + +But Miss Somerset was not in an irascible humor just then. She shrugged +her shoulders, and said: + +"Yes, I remember I put myself in a passion, and said some ridiculous +things. But one can't be always a fool. I have come to my senses. This +sort of thing always does end, you know. Most of them part enemies, but +he and I part friends and well-wishers." + +"And you throw _me_ over as if I was nobody," said Richard, white with +anger. + +"Why, what are you to me?" said the Somerset. "Oh, I see. You thought +to make a cat's-paw of me. Well, you won't, then." + +"In other words, you have been bought off." + +"No, I have not. I am not to be bought by anybody--and I am not to be +insulted by you, you ruffian! How dare you come here and affront a lady +in her own house--a lady whose shoestrings your betters are ready to +tie, you brute? If you want to be a landed proprietor, go and marry +some ugly old hag that's got it, and no eyesight left to see you're no +gentleman. Sir Charles's land you'll never have; a better man has got +it, and means to keep it for him and his. Here, Polly! Polly! Polly! +take this man down to the kitchen, and teach him manners if you can: he +is not fit for my drawing-room, by a long chalk." + +Polly arrived in time to see the flashing eyes, the swelling veins, and +to hear the fair orator's peroration. + +"What, you are in your tantrums again!" said she. "Come along, sir. +Needs must when the devil drives. You'll break a blood-vessel some day, +my lady, like your father afore ye." + +And with this homely suggestion, which always sobered Miss Somerset, +and, indeed, frightened her out of her wits, she withdrew the offender. +She did not take him into the kitchen, but into the dining-room, and +there he had a long talk with her, and gave her a sovereign. + +She promised to inform him if anything important should occur. + +He went away, pondering and scowling deeply. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +SIR CHARLES BASSETT was now living in Elysium. Never was rake more +thoroughly transformed. Every day he sat for hours at the feet of Bella +Bruce, admiring her soft, feminine ways and virgin modesty even more +than her beauty. And her visible blush whenever he appeared suddenly, +and the soft commotion and yielding in her lovely frame whenever he +drew near, betrayed his magnetic influence, and told all but the blind +she adored him. + +She would decline all invitations to dine with him and her father--a +strong-minded old admiral, whose authority was unbounded, only, to +Bella's regret, very rarely exerted. Nothing would have pleased her +more than to be forbidden this and commanded that; but no! the admiral +was a lion with an enormous paw, only he could not be got to put it +into every pie. + +In this charming society the hours glided, and the wedding-day drew +close. So deeply and sincerely was Sir Charles in love that when Mr. +Oldfield's letter came, appointing the day and hour to sign Miss +Somerset's deed, he was unwilling to go, and wrote back to ask if the +deed could not be sent to his house. + +Mr. Oldfield replied that the parties to the deed and the witnesses +must meet, and it would be unadvisable, for several reasons, to +irritate the lady's susceptibility previous to signature; the +appointment having been made at her house, it had better remain so. + +That day soon came. + +Sir Charles, being due in Mayfair at 2 P.M., compensated himself for +the less agreeable business to come by going earlier than usual to +Portman Square. By this means he caught Miss Bruce and two other young +ladies inspecting bridal dresses. Bella blushed and looked ashamed, +and, to the surprise of her friends, sent the dresses away, and set +herself to talk rationally with Sir Charles--as rationally as lovers +can. + +The ladies took the cue, and retired in disgust. + +Sir Charles apologized. + +"This is too bad of me. I come at an unheard-of hour, and frighten away +your fair friends; but the fact is, I have an appointment at two, and I +don't know how long they will keep me, so I thought I would make sure +of two happy hours at the least." + +And delightful hours they were. Bella Bruce, excited by this little +surprise, leaned softly on his shoulder, and prattled her maiden love +like some warbling fountain. + +Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind--three months +ago he could not--and they compared pretty little plans of wedded life, +and had small differences, and ended by agreeing. + +Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, they would not have +a single quarrel, like other people; their love should never lose its +delicate bloom; second, they would grow old together, and die the same +day--the same minute if possible; if not, they must be content with the +same day, but, on that, inexorable. + +But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to obey t'other. + +Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and therefore more +fit to conduct the pair. + +Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this reason furiously. +He defended it. He admitted, with exemplary candor, that he was good +now--"awfully good." But he assured her that he had been anything but +good until he knew her; now she had been always good; therefore, he +argued, as his goodness came originally from her, for her to obey him +would be a little too much like the moon commanding the sun. + +"That is too ingenious for me, Charles," said Bella. "And, for shame! +Nobody was ever so good as you are. I look up to you and--Now I could +stop your mouth in a minute. I have only to remind you that I shall +swear at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear to obey me. But +I will not crush you under the Prayer-book--no, dearest; but, indeed, +to obey is a want of my nature, and I marry you to supply that want: +and that's a story, for I marry you because I love and honor and +worship and adore you to distraction, my own--own--own!" With this she +flung herself passionately, yet modestly on his shoulder, and, being +there, murmured, coaxingly, "You will let me obey you, Charles?" + +Thereupon Sir Charles felt highly gelatinous, and lost, for the moment, +all power of resistance or argument. + +"Ah, you will; and then you will remind me of my dear mother. She knew +how to command; but as for poor dear papa, he is very disappointing. In +selecting an admiral for my parent, I made sure of being ordered about. +Instead of that--now I'll show you--there he is in the next room, +inventing a new system of signals, poor dear--" + +She threw the folding-doors open. + +"Papa dear, shall I ask Charles to dinner to-day?" + +"As you please, my dear." + +"Do you think I had better walk or ride this afternoon?" + +"Whichever you prefer." + +"There," said Bella, "I told you so. That is always the way. Papa dear, +you used always to be firing guns at sea. Do, please, fire one in this +house--just one--before I leave it, and make the very windows rattle." + +"I beg your pardon, Bella; I never wasted powder at sea. If the convoy +sailed well and steered right I never barked at them. You are a modest, +sensible girl, and have always steered a good course. Why should I +hoist a petticoat and play the small tyrant? Wait till I see you going +to do something wrong or silly." + +"Ah! then you _would_ fire a gun, papa?" + +"Ay, a broadside." + +"Well, that is something," said Bella, as she closed the door softly. + +"No, no; it amounts to just nothing," said Sir Charles; "for you never +will do anything wrong or silly. I'll accommodate you. I have thought +of a way. I shall give you some blank cards; you shall write on them, +'I think I should like to do so and so.' You shall be careless, and +leave them about; I'll find them, and bluster, and say, 'I command you +to do so and so, Bella Bassett'--the very thing on the card, you know." + +Bella colored to the brow with pleasure and modesty. After a pause she +said: "How sweet! The worst of it is, I should get my own way. Now what +I want is to submit my will to yours. A gentle tyrant--that is what you +must be to Bella Bassett. Oh, you sweet, sweet, for calling me that!" + +These projects were interrupted by a servant announcing luncheon. This +made Sir Charles look hastily at his watch, and he found it was past +two o'clock. + +"How time flies in this house!" said he. "I must go, dearest; I am +behind my appointment already. What do you do this afternoon?" + +"Whatever you please, my own." + +"I could get away by four." + +"Then I will stay at home for you." + +He left her reluctantly, and she followed him to the head of the +stairs, and hung over the balusters as if she would like to fly after +him. + +He turned at the street-door, saw that radiant and gentle face beaming +after him, and they kissed hands to each other by one impulse, as if +they were parting for ever so long. + +He had gone scarcely half an hour when a letter, addressed to her, was +left at the door by a private messenger. + +"Any answer?" inquired the servant. + +"No." + +The letter was sent up, and delivered to her on a silver salver. + +She opened it; it was a thing new to her in her young life--an +anonymous letter. + + + +"MISS BRUCE--I am almost a stranger to you, but I know your character +from others, and cannot bear to see you abused. You are said to be +about to marry Sir Charles Bassett. I think you can hardly be aware +that he is connected with a lady of doubtful repute, called Somerset, +and neither your beauty nor your virtue has prevailed to detach him +from that connection. + +"If, on engaging himself to you, he had abandoned her, I should not +have said a word. But the truth is, he visits her constantly, and I +blush to say that when he leaves you this day it will be to spend the +afternoon at her house. + +"I inclose you her address, and you can learn in ten minutes whether I +am a slanderer or, what I wish to be, + +"A FRIEND OF INJURED INNOCENCE." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SIR CHARLES was behind his time in Mayfair; but the lawyer and his +clerk had not arrived, and Miss Somerset was not visible. + +She appeared, however, at last, in a superb silk dress, the broad +luster of which would have been beautiful, only the effect was broken +and frittered away by six rows of gimp and fringe. But why blame her? +This is a blunder in art as universal as it is amazing, when one +considers the amount of apparent thought her sex devotes to dress. They +might just as well score a fair plot of velvet turf with rows of box, +or tattoo a blooming and downy cheek. + +She held out her hand, like a man, and talked to Sir Charles on +indifferent topics, till Mr. Oldfield arrived. She then retired into +the background, and left the gentlemen to discuss the deed. When +appealed to, she evaded direct replies, and put on languid and imperial +indifference. When she signed, it was with the air of some princess +bestowing a favor upon solicitation. + +But the business concluded, she thawed all in a moment, and invited the +gentlemen to luncheon with charming cordiality. Indeed, her genuine +_bonhomie_ after her affected indifference was rather comic. Everybody +was content. Champagne flowed. The lady, with her good mother-wit, kept +conversation going till the lawyer was nearly missing his next +appointment. He hurried away; and Sir Charles only lingered, out of +good-breeding, to bid Miss Somerset good-by. In the course of +leave-taking he said he was sorry he left her with people about her of +whom he had a bad opinion. "Those women have no more feeling for you +than stones. When you lay in convulsions, your housekeeper looked on as +philosophically as if you had been two kittens at play--you and Polly." + +"I saw her." + +"Indeed! You appeared hardly in a condition to see anything." + +"I did, though, and heard the old wretch tell the young monkey to water +my lilac dress. That was to get it for her Polly. She knew I'd never +wear it afterward." + +"Then why don't you turn her off?" + +"Who'd take such a useless old hag, if I turned her off?" + +"You carry a charity a long way." + +"I carry everything. What's the use doing things by halves, good or +bad?" + +"Well, but that Polly! She is young enough to get her living elsewhere; +and she is extremely disrespectful to you." + +"That she is. If I wasn't a lady, I'd have given her a good hiding this +very day for her cheek!" + +"Then why not turn her off this very day for her cheek?" + +"Well, I'll tell you, since you and I are parted forever. No, I don't +like." + +"Oh, come! No secrets between friends." + +"Well, then, the old hag is--my mother." + +"What?" + +"And the young jade--is my sister." + +"Good Heavens!" + +"And the page--is my little brother." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" + +"What, you are not angry?" + +"Angry? no. Ha, ha, ha!" + +"See what a hornets' nest you have escaped from. My dear friend, those +two women rob me through thick and thin. They steal my handkerchiefs, +and my gloves, and my very linen. They drink my wine like fishes. +They'd take the hair off my head, if it wasn't fast by the roots--for a +wonder." + +"Why not give them a ten-pound note and send them home?" + +"They'd pocket the note, and blacken me in our village. That was why I +had them up here. First time I went home, after running about with that +little scamp, Vandeleur--do you know him?" + +"I have not the honor." + +"Then your luck beats mine. One thing, he is going to the dogs as fast +as he can. Some day he'll come begging to me for a fiver. You mark my +words now." + +"Well, but you were saying--" + +"Yes, I went off about Van. Polly _says_ I've a mind like running +water. Well, then, when I went home the first time--after Van, mother +and Polly raised a virtuous howl. 'All right,' said I--for, of course, +I know how much virtue there is under _their_ skins. Virtue of the +lower orders! Tell that to gentlefolks that don't know them. I do. I've +been one of 'em--'I know all about that,' says I. 'You want to share +the plunder, that is the sense of your virtuous cry.' So I had 'em up +here; and then there was no more virtuous howling, but a deal of +virtuous thieving, and modest drinking, and pure-minded selling of my +street-door to the highest male bidder. And they will corrupt the boy; +and if they do, I'll cuts their black hearts out with my riding-whip. +But I suppose I must keep them on; they are my own flesh and blood; and +if I was to be ill and dying, they'd do all they knew to keep me +alive--for their own sakes. I'm their milch cow, these country +innocents." + +Sir Charles groaned aloud, and said, "My poor girl, you deserve a +better fate than this. Marry some honest fellow, and cut the whole +thing." + +"I'll see about it. You try it first, and let us see how you like it." + +And so they parted gayly. + +In the hall, Polly intercepted him, all smiles. He looked at her, +smiled in his sleeve, and gave her a handsome present. "If you please, +sir," said she, "an old gentleman called for you." + +"When?" + +"About an hour ago. Leastways, he asked if Sir Charles Bassett was +there. I said yes, but you wouldn't see no one." + +"Who could it be? Why, surely you never told anybody I was to be here +to-day?" + +"La, no, sir! how could I?" said Polly, with a face of brass. + +Sir Charles thought this very odd, and felt a little uneasy about it. +All to Portman Square he puzzled over it; and at last he was driven to +the conclusion that Miss Somerset had been weak enough to tell some +person, male or female, of the coming interview, and so somebody had +called there--doubtless to ask him a favor. + +At five o'clock he reached Portman Square, and was about to enter, as a +matter of course; but the footman stopped him. "I beg pardon, Sir +Charles," said the man, looking pale and agitated; "but I have strict +orders. My young lady is very ill." + +"Ill! Let me go to her this instant." + +"I daren't, Sir Charles, I daren't. I know you are a gentleman; pray +don't lose me my place. You would never get to see her. We none of us +know the rights, but there's something up. Sorry to say it, Sir +Charles, but we have strict orders not to admit you. Haven't you the +admiral's letter, sir?" + +"No; what letter?" + +"He has been after you, sir; and when he came back he sent Roger off to +your house with a letter." + +A cold chill began to run down Sir Charles Bassett. He hailed a passing +hansom, and drove to his own house to get the admiral's letter; and as +he went he asked himself, with chill misgivings, what on earth had +happened. + +What had happened shall be told the reader precisely but briefly.. + +In the first place, Bella had opened the anonymous letter and read its +contents, to which the reader is referred. + +There are people who pretend to despise anonymous letters. Pure +delusion! they know they ought to, and so fancy they do; but they +don't. The absence of a signature gives weight, if the letter is ably +written and seems true. + +As for poor Bella Bruce, a dove's bosom is no more fit to rebuff a +poisoned arrow than she was to combat that foulest and direst of all a +miscreant's weapons, an anonymous letter. She, in her goodness and +innocence, never dreamed that any person she did not know could +possibly tell a lie to wound her. The letter fell on her like a cruel +revelation from heaven. + +The blow was so savage that, at first, it stunned her. + +She sat pale and stupefied; but beneath the stupor were the rising +throbs of coming agonies. + +After that horrible stupor her anguish grew and grew, till it found +vent in a miserable cry, rising, and rising, and rising, in agony. + +"Mamma! mamma! mamma!" + +Yes; her mother had been dead these three years, and her father sat in +the next room; yet, in her anguish, she cried to her mother--a cry the +which, if your mother had heard, she would have expected Bella's to +come to her even from the grave. + +Admiral Bruce heard this fearful cry--the living calling on the +dead--and burst through the folding-doors in a moment, white as a +ghost. + +He found his daughter writhing on the sofa, ghastly, and grinding in +her hand the cursed paper that had poisoned her young life. + +"My child! my child!" + +"Oh, papa! see! see!" And she tried to open the letter for him, but her +hands trembled so she could not. + +He kneeled down by her side, the stout old warrior, and read the +letter, while she clung to him, moaning now, and quivering all over +from head to foot. + +"Why, there's no signature! The writer is a coward and, perhaps, a +liar. Stop! he offers a test. I'll put him to it this minute." + +He laid the moaning girl on the sofa, ordered his servants to admit +nobody into the house, and drove at once to Mayfair. + +He called at Miss Somerset's house, saw Polly, and questioned her. + +He drove home again, and came into the drawing-room looking as he had +been seen to look when fighting his ship; but his daughter had never +seen him so. "My girl," said he, solemnly, "there's nothing for you to +do but to be brave, and hide your grief as well as you can, for the man +is unworthy of your love. That coward spoke the truth. He is there at +this moment." + +"Oh, papa! papa! let me die! The world is too wicked for me. Let me +die!" + +"Die for an unworthy object? For shame! Go to your own room, my girl, +and pray to your God to help you, since your mother has left us. Oh, +how I miss her now! Go and pray, and let no one else know what we +suffer. Be your father's daughter. Fight and pray." + +Poor Bella had no longer to complain that she was not commanded. She +kissed him, and burst into a great passion of weeping; but he led her +to the door, and she tottered to her own room, a blighted girl. + +The sight of her was harrowing. Under its influence the admiral dashed +off a letter to Sir Charles, calling him a villain, and inviting him to +go to France and let an indignant father write scoundrel on his +carcass. + +But when he had written this his good sense and dignity prevailed over +his fury; he burned the letter, and wrote another. This he sent by hand +to Sir Charles's house, and ordered his servants--but that the reader +knows. + +Sir Charles found the admiral's letter in his letter-rack. It ran thus: + + + +"SIR--We have learned your connection with a lady named Somerset, and I +have ascertained that you went from my daughter to her house this very +day. + +"Miss Bruce and myself withdraw from all connection with you, and I +must request you to attempt no communication with her of any kind. Such +an attempt would be an additional insult. + +"I am, sir, your obedient servant, + +"JOHN URQUHART BRUCE." + + + +At first Sir Charles Bassett was stunned by this blow. Then his mind +resisted the admiral's severity, and he was indignant at being +dismissed for so common an offense. This gave way to deep grief and +shame at the thought of Bella and her lost esteem. But soon all other +feelings merged for a time in fury at the heartless traitor who had +destroyed his happiness, and had dashed the cup of innocent love from +his very lips. Boiling over with mortification and rage, he drove at +once to that traitor's house. Polly opened the door. He rushed past +her, and burst into the dining-room, breathless, and white with +passion. + +He found Miss Somerset studying the deed by which he had made her +independent for life. She started at his strange appearance, and +instinctively put both hands flat upon the deed. + +"You vile wretch!" cried Sir Charles. "You heartless monster! Enjoy +your work." And he flung her the admiral's letter. But he did not wait +while she read it; he heaped reproaches on her; and, for the first time +in her life, she did not reply in kind. + +"Are you mad?" she faltered. "What have I done?" + +"You have told Admiral Bruce." + +"That's false." + +"You told him I was to be here to-day." + +"Charles, I never did. Believe me." + +"You did. Nobody knew it but you. He was here to-day at the very hour." + +"May I never get up alive off this chair if I told a soul. Yes, our +Polly. I'll ring for her." + +"No, you will not. She is your sister. Do you think I'll take the word +of such reptiles against the plain fact? You have parted my love and +me--parted us on the very day I had made you independent for life. An +innocent love was waiting to bless me, and an honest love was in your +power, thanks to me, your kind, forgiving friend and benefactor. I have +heaped kindness on you from the first moment I had the misfortune to +know you. I connived at your infidelities--" + +"Charles! Don't say that. I never _was."_ + +"I indulged your most expensive whims, and, instead of leaving you with +a curse, as all the rest did that ever knew you, and as you deserve, I +bought your consent to lead a respectable life, and be blessed with a +virtuous love. You took the bribe, but robbed me of the +blessing--viper! You have destroyed me, body and soul--monster! perhaps +blighted her happiness as well; you she-devils hate an angel worse than +Heaven hates you. But you shall suffer with us; not your heart, for you +have none, but your pocket. You have broken faith with me, and sent all +my happiness to hell; I'll send your deed to hell after it!" With this, +he flung himself upon the deed, and was going to throw it into the +fire. Now up to that moment she had been overpowered by this man's +fury, whom she had never seen the least angry before; but when he laid +hands on her property it acted like an electric shock. "No! no!" she +screamed, and sprang at him like a wildcat. + +Then ensued a violent and unseemly struggle all about the room; chairs +were upset, and vases broken to pieces; and the man and woman dragged +each other to and fro, one fighting for her property, as if it was her +life, and the other for revenge. + +Sir Charles, excited by fury, was stronger than himself, and at last +shook off one of her hands for a moment, and threw the deed into the +fire. She tried to break from him and save it, but he held her like +iron. + +Yet not for long. While he was holding her back, and she straining +every nerve to get to the fire, he began to show sudden symptoms of +distress. He gasped loudly, and cried, "Oh! oh! I'm choking!" and then +his clutch relaxed. She tore herself from it, and, plunging forward, +rescued the smoking parchment. + +At that moment she heard a great stagger behind her, and a pitiful +moan, and Sir Charles fell heavily, striking his head against the edge +of the sofa. She looked round--as she knelt, and saw him, black in the +face, rolling his eyeballs fearfully, while his teeth gnashed awfully, +and a little jet of foam flew through his lips. + +Then she shrieked with terror, and the blackened deed fell from her +hands. At this moment Polly rushed into the room. She saw the fearful +sight, and echoed her sister's scream. But they were neither of them +women to lose their heads and beat the air with their hands. They got +to him, and both of them fought hard with the unconscious sufferer, +whose body, in a fresh convulsion, now bounded away from the sofa, and +bade fair to batter itself against the ground. + +They did all they could to hold him with one arm apiece, and to release +his swelling throat with the other. Their nimble fingers whipped off +his neck-tie in a moment; but the distended windpipe pressed so against +the shirt-button they could not undo it. Then they seized the collar, +and, pulling against each other, wrenched the shirt open so powerfully +that the button flew into the air, and tinkled against a mirror a long +way off. + +A few more struggles, somewhat less violent, and then the face, from +purple, began to whiten, the eyeballs fixed; the pulse went down; the +man lay still. + +"Oh, my God!" cried Rhoda Somerset. "He is dying! To the nearest +doctor! There's one three doors off. No bonnet! It's life and death +this moment. Fly!" + +Polly obeyed, and Doctor Andrews was actually in the room within five +minutes. + +He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and felt his pulse +anxiously. + +Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, though she did not +look it, began to weep bitterly, and rock herself in rustic fashion. + +The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told him, between her sobs, +how Sir Charles had been taken. + +The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by those frightful +symptoms she related, took a more cheerful view directly. "Then do not +alarm yourself unnecessarily," he said. "It was only an epileptic fit." + +"Only!" sobbed Miss Somerset. "Oh, if you had seen him! And he lies +like death." + +"Yes," said Dr. Andrews; "a severe epileptic fit is really a terrible +thing to look at; but it is not dangerous in proportion. Is he used to +have them?" + +"Oh, no, doctor--never had one before." + +Here she was mistaken, I think. + +"You must keep him quiet; and give him a moderate stimulant as soon as +he can swallow comfortably; the quietest room in the house; and don't +let him be hungry, night or day. Have food by his bedside, and watch +him for a day or two. I'll come again this evening." + +The doctor went to his dinner--tranquil. + +Not so those he left. Miss Somerset resigned her own luxurious bedroom, +and had the patient laid, just as he was, upon her bed. She sent the +page out to her groom and ordered two loads of straw to be laid before +the door; and she watched by the sufferer, with brandy and water by her +side. + +Sir Charles now might have seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, but for +his eyes. They were open, and showed more white, and less pupil, than +usual. + +However, in time he began to sigh and move, and even mutter; and, +gradually, some little color came back to his pale cheeks. + +Then Miss Somerset had the good sense to draw back out of his sight, +and order Polly to take her place by his side. Polly did so, and, some +time afterward, at a fresh order, put a teaspoonful of brandy to his +lips, which were still pale and even bluish. + +The doctor returned, and brought his assistant. They put the patient to +bed. + +"His life is in no danger," said he. "I wish I was as sure about his +reason." + + + +At one o'clock in the morning, as Polly was snoring by the patient's +bedside, a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was Rhoda. + +"Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here." + +"You'd be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do." + +"Very likely," said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as very +singular. "Good-night." + +Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had ever +thought before. + +Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat her +sister watching the patient, out of sight. + +"La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?" + +"Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on this +lilac silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino." + +"Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither." + +"I'm not a liar like you," said the other, becoming herself for a +moment, "and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in the +dressing-room." + +"All right," said Polly, joyfully. + +"And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closed +my eyes." + +"Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself all the same. +Whatever you can see in cold water, to run after it so, I can't think. +If I was to flood myself like you, it would soon float me to my long +home." + +"How do you know? _You never gave it a trial._ Come, no more chat. Give +me my bath: and then you may wash yourself in a tea-cup if you +like--only don't wash my spoons in the same water, for _mercy's sake!"_ + +Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly brought cold water +galore, and laid out her new merino dress. In this sober suit, with +plain linen collar and cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumed +her watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out of sight, for +the patient was now beginning to mutter incoherently, yet in a way that +showed his clouded faculties were dwelling on the calamity which had +befallen him. + +About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly entering, Rhoda +called her to the window and showed her two female figures plodding +down the street. "Look," said she. "Those are the only women I envy. +Sisters of Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at those +beastly ugly caps: then come and tell me how to make one." + +"Here's a go!" said Polly; but executed the commission promptly. + +It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of linen into one of +those ugly caps, which are beautiful banners of Christian charity and +womanly tenderness to the sick and suffering. The monster cap was made +in an hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and then she +no longer thought it necessary to sit out of the patient's sight. + +The consequence was that, in the middle of his ramblings, he broke off +and looked at her. The sister puzzled him. At last he called to her in +French. + +She made no reply. + +"Je suis a l'hopital, n'est ce pas bonne soeur?" + +"I am English," said she, softly. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +"ENGLISH!" said Sir Charles. "Then tell me, how did I come here? Where +am I?" + +"You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept quiet; and I am +here to nurse you." + +"A fit! Ay, I remember. That vile woman!" + +"Don't think of her: give your mind to getting well: remember, there is +somebody who would break her heart if you--" + +"Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving Bella!" He was so +weakened that he cried like a child. + +Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon the window-sill. + +"Why do I cry for her, like a great baby?" muttered Sir Charles. "She +wouldn't cry for me. She has cast me off in a moment." + +"Not she. It is her father's doing. Have a little patience. The whole +thing shall be explained to them; and then she will soon soften the old +man. 'It is not as if you were really to blame." + +"No more I was. It is all that vile woman." + +"Oh, don't! She is so sorry; she has taken it all to heart. She had +once shammed a fit, on the very place; and when you had a real fit +there--on the very spot--oh, it was so fearful--and lay like one dead, +she saw God's finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don't say anything +more against her just now. She is trying so hard to be good. And, +besides, it is all a mistake: she never told that old admiral; she +never breathed a word out of her own house. Her own people have +betrayed her and you. She has made me promise two things: to find out +who told the admiral, and--" + +"Well?" + +"The second thing I have to do--Well, that is a secret between me and +that unhappy woman. She is bad enough, but not so heartless as you +think." + +Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no more; and soon +after fell asleep. + +In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching. + +She now turned her head away from him, and asked him quietly to +describe Miss Bella Bruce to her. + +He described her in minute and glowing terms. "But oh, Sister," said +he, "it is not her beauty only, but the beauty of her mind. So gentle, +so modest, so timid, so docile. She would never have had the heart to +turn me off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward to obey +me, sweet dove." + +"Did she say so?" + +"Yes, that is her dream of happiness, to obey." + +The Sister still questioned him with averted head, and he told her what +had passed between Bella and him the last time he saw her, and all +their innocent plans of married happiness. He told her, with the tear +in his eye, and she listened, with the tear in hers. "And then," said +he, laying his hand on her shoulder, "is it not hard? I just went to +Mayfair, not to please myself, but to do an act of justice--of more +than justice; and then, for that, to have her door shut in my face. +Only two hours between the height of happiness and the depth of +misery." + +The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her hands, and +thought. + +The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the room, and said, +"You are to go home. The carriage is at the door." With this she +retired, and Sir Charles's valet entered the room soon after to help +him dress. + +"Where am I, James?" + +"Miss Somerset's house, Sir Charles." + +"Then get me out of it directly." + +"Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door." + +"Who told you to come, James?" + +"Miss Somerset, Sir Charles." + +"That is odd." + +"Yes, Sir Charles." + + + +When he got home he found a sofa placed by a fire, with wraps and +pillows; his cigar case laid out, and a bottle of salts, and also a +small glass of old cognac, in case of faintness. + +"Which of you had the gumption to do all this?" + +"Miss Somerset, Sir Charles." + +"What, has she been _here?"_ + +"Yes, Sir Charles." + +"Curse her!" + +"Yes, Sir Charles." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"LOVE LIES BLEEDING." + +BELLA BRUCE was drinking the bitterest cup a young virgin soul can +taste. Illusion gone--the wicked world revealed as it is, how unlike +what she thought it was--love crushed in her, and not crushed out of +her, as it might if she had been either proud or vain. + +Frail men and women should see what a passionate but virtuous woman can +suffer, when a revelation, of which they think but little, comes and +blasts her young heart, and bids her dry up in a moment the deep well +of her affection, since it flows for an unworthy object, and flows in +vain. I tell you that the fair head severed from the chaste body is +nothing to her compared with this. The fair body, pierced with heathen +arrows, was nothing to her in the days of old compared with this. + +In a word--for nowadays we can but amplify, and so enfeeble, what some +old dead master of language, immortal though obscure, has said in words +of granite--here + + "Love lay bleeding." + +No fainting--no vehement weeping; but oh, such deep desolation; such +weariness of life; such a pitiable restlessness. Appetite gone; the +taste of food almost lost; sleep unwilling to come; and oh, the torture +of waking--for at that horrible moment all rushed back at once, the joy +that had been, the misery that was, the blank that was to come. + +She never stirred out, except when ordered, and then went like an +automaton. Pale, sorrow-stricken, and patient, she moved about, the +ghost of herself; and lay down a little, and then tried to work a +little, and then to read a little; and could settle to nothing but +sorrow and deep despondency. + +Not that she nursed her grief. She had been told to be brave, and she +tried. But her grief was her master. It came welling through her eyes +in a moment, of its own accord. + +She was deeply mortified too. But, in her gentle nature, anger could +play but a secondary part. Her indignation was weak beside her grief, +and did little to bear her up. + +Yet her sense of shame was vivid; and she tried hard not to let her +father see how deeply she loved the man who had gone from her to Miss +Somerset. Besides, he had ordered her to fight against a love that now +could only degrade her; he had ordered, and it was for her to obey. + +As soon as Sir Charles was better, he wrote her a long, humble letter, +owning that, before he knew her, he had led a free life; but assuring +her that, ever since that happy time, his heart and his time had been +solely hers; as to his visit to Miss Somerset, it had been one of +business merely, and this he could prove, if she would receive him. The +admiral could be present at that interview, and Sir Charles hoped to +convince him he had been somewhat hasty and harsh in his decision. + +Now the admiral had foreseen Sir Charles would write to her; so he had +ordered his man to bring all letters to him first. + +He recognized Sir Charles's hand, and brought the latter in to Bella. +"Now, my child," said he, "be brave. Here is a letter from that man." + +"Oh, papa! I thought he would. I knew he would." And the pale face was +flushed with joy and hope all in a moment. + +"Do what?" + +"Write and explain." + +"Explain? A thing that is clear as sunshine. He has written to throw +dust in your eyes again. You are evidently in no state to judge. _I_ +shall read this letter first." + +"Yes, papa," said Bella, faintly. + +He did read it, and she devoured his countenance all the time. + +"There is nothing in it. He offers no real explanation, but only says +he can explain, and asks for an interview--to play upon your weakness. +If I give you this letter, it will only make you cry, and render your +task more difficult. I must be strong for your good, and set you an +example. I loved this young man too; but, now I know him"--then he +actually thrust the letter into the fire. + +But this was too much. Bella shrieked at the act, and put her hand to +her heart, and shrieked again. "Ah! you'll kill us, you'll kill us +both!" she cried. "Poor Charles! Poor Bella! You don't love your +child--you have no pity." And, for the first time, her misery was +violent. She writhed and wept, and at last went into violent hysterics, +and frightened that stout old warrior more than cannon had ever +frightened him; and presently she became quiet, and wept at his knees, +and begged his forgiveness, and said he was wiser than she was, and she +would obey him in everything, only he must not be angry with her if she +could not live. + +Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, and began to +realize what deep waters of affliction his girl was wading in. + +Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to Sir Charles to say that +his daughter was too ill to write; but that no explanation was +possible, and no interview could be allowed. + +Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the most sanguine hopes, +was now as wretched as Bella. Only, now that he was refused a hearing, +he had wounded pride to support him a little under wounded love. + +Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter's health, and even for her +life--she pined so visibly--now ordered her to divide her day into +several occupations, and exact divisions of time--an hour for this, an +hour for that; an hour by the clock--and here he showed practical +wisdom. Try it, ye that are very unhappy, and tell me the result. + +As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk round the square +from eleven to twelve A. M., but never alone; he was not going to have +Sir Charles surprising her into an interview. He always went with her, +and, as he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she had to +walk in sight. He took a stout stick with him--for Sir Charles. But Sir +Charles was proud, and stayed at home with his deep wound. + +One day, walking round the square with a step of Mercury and heart of +lead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of Charity pacing slow and thoughtful; +their eyes met and drank, in a moment, every feature of each other. + +The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on that fair face; +for the next time they met, she eyed her with a certain sympathy, which +did not escape Bella. + +This subtle interchange took place several times and Bella could not +help feeling a little grateful. "Ah!" she thought to herself, "how kind +religious people are! I should like to speak to her." And the next time +they met she looked wistfully in the Sister's face. + +She did not meet her again, for she went and rested on a bench, in +sight of her father, but at some distance from him. Unconsciously to +herself, his refusal even to hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was so +hard on him and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, the +last little chance of happiness. + +By-and-by the Sister came and sat on the same bench. + +Bella was hardly surprised, but blushed high, for she felt that her own +eyes had invited the sympathy of a stranger; and now it seemed to be +coming. The timid girl felt uneasy. The Sister saw that, and approached +her with tact. "You look unwell," said she, gently, but with no +appearance of extravagant interest or curiosity. + +"I am--a little," said Bella, very reservedly. + +"Excuse my remarking it. We are professional nurses, and apt to be a +little officious, I fear." + +No reply. + +"I saw you were unwell. But I hope it is not serious. I can generally +tell when the sick are in danger." A peculiar look. "I am glad not to +see it in so young and--good a face." + +"You are young, too; very young, and--" she was going to say +"beautiful," but she was too shy--"to be a Sister of Charity. But I am +sure you never regret leaving such a world as this is." + +"Never. I have lost the only thing I ever valued in it." + +"I have no right to ask you what that was." + +"You shall know without asking. One I loved proved unworthy." + +The Sister sighed deeply, and then, hiding her face with her hands for +a moment, rose abruptly, and left the square, ashamed, apparently, of +having been betrayed into such a confession. + +Bella, when she was twenty yards off, put out a timid hand, as if to +detain her; but she had not the courage to say anything of the kind. + +She never told her father a word. She had got somebody now who could +sympathize with her better than he could. + +Next day the Sister was there, and Bella bowed to her when she met her. +This time it was the Sister who went and sat on the bench. + +Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last could not resist +the temptation. She came and sat down on the bench, and blushed; as +much as to say, "I have the courage to come, but not to speak upon a +certain subject, which shall be nameless." + +The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy. She opened a +conversation. "I committed a fault yesterday. I spoke to you of myself, +and of the past: it is discouraged by our rules. We are bound to +inquire the griefs of others; not to tell our own." + +This was a fair opening, but Bella was too delicate to show her wounds +to a fresh acquaintance. + +The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very different. + +"But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. Some time ago I +nursed a gentleman whom love had laid on a sick-bed." + +"A gentleman! What! can they love as we do?" said Bella, bitterly. + +"Not many of them; but this was an exception. But I don't know whether +I ought to tell these secrets to so young a lady." + +"Oh, yes--please--what else is there in this world worth talking about? +Tell me about the poor man who could love as we can." + +The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go on. + +"Well, he was a man of the world, and he had not always been a good +man; but he was trying to be. He had fallen in love with a young lady, +and seen the beauty of virtue, and was going to marry her and lead a +good life. But he was a man of honor, and there was a lady for whom he +thought it was his duty to provide. He set his lawyer to draw a deed, +and his lawyer appointed a day for signing it at her house. The poor +man came because his lawyer told him. Do you think there was any great +harm in that?" + +"No; of course not." + +"Well, then, he lost his love for that." + +Miss Bruce's color began to come and go, and her supple figure to +crouch a little. She said nothing. + +The Sister continued: "Some malicious person went and told the young +lady's father the gentleman was in the habit of visiting that lady, and +would be with her at a certain hour. And so he was; but it was the +lawyer's appointment, you know. You seem agitated." + +"No, no; not agitated," said Bella, "but astonished; it is so like a +story I know. A young lady, a friend of mine, had an anonymous letter, +telling her that one she loved and esteemed was unworthy. But what you +have told me shows me how deceitful appearances may be. What was your +patient's name?" + +"It is against our rules to tell that. But you said an 'anonymous +letter.' Was your friend so weak as to believe an anonymous letter? The +writer of such a letter is a coward, and a coward always is a liar. +Show me your friend's anonymous letter. I may, perhaps, be able to +throw a light on it." + +The conversation was interrupted by Admiral Bruce, who had approached +them unobserved. "Excuse me," said he, "but you ladies seem to have hit +upon a very interesting theme." + +"Yes, papa," said Bella. "I took the liberty to question this lady as +to her experiences of sick-beds, and she was good enough to give me +some of them." + +Having uttered this with a sudden appearance of calmness that first +amazed the Sister, then made her smile, she took her father's arm, +bowed politely, and a little stiffly, to her new friend, and drew the +admiral away. + +"Oh!" thought the Sister. "I am not to speak to the old gentleman. He +is not in her confidence. Yet she is very fond of him. How she hangs on +his arm! Simplicity! Candor! We are all tarred with the same stick--we +women." + +That night Bella was a changed girl--exalted and depressed by turns, +and with no visible reason. + +Her father was pleased. Anything better than that deadly languor. + +The next day Bella sat by her father's side in the square, longing to +go to the Sister, yet patiently waiting to be ordered. + +At last the admiral, finding her dull and listless, said, "Why don't +you go and talk to the Sister? She amuses you. I'll join you when I +have smoked this cigar." + +The obedient Bella rose, and went toward the Sister as if compelled. +But when she got to her her whole manner changed. She took her warmly +by the hand, and said, trembling and blushing, and all on fire, "I have +brought you the anonymous letter." + +The elder actress took it and ran her eye over it--an eye that now +sparkled like a diamond. "Humph!" said she, and flung off all the +dulcet tones of her assumed character with mighty little ceremony. +"This hand is disguised a little, but I think I know it. I am sure I +do! The dirty little rascal!" + +"Madam!" cried Bella, aghast with surprise at this language. + +"I tell you I know the writer and his rascally motive. You must lend me +this for a day or two." + +"Must I?" said Bella. "Excuse me! Papa would be so angry." + +"Very likely; but you will lend it to me for all that; for with this I +can clear Miss Bruce's lover and defeat his enemies." + +Bella uttered a faint cry, and trembled, and her bosom heaved +violently. She looked this way and that, like a frightened deer. "But +papa? His eye is on us." + +"Never deceive your father!" said the Sister, almost sternly; "but," +darting her gray eyes right into those dove-like orbs, "give me five +minutes' start--IF YOU REALLY LOVE SIR CHARLES BASSETT." + +With these words she carried off the letter; and Bella ran, blushing, +panting, trembling, to her father, and clung to him. + +He questioned her, but could get nothing from her very intelligible +until the Sister was out of sight, and then she told him all without +reserve. + +"I was unworthy of him to doubt him. An anonymous slander. I'll never +trust appearances again. Poor Charles! Oh, my darling! what he must +have suffered if he loves like me." Then came a shower of happy tears; +then a shower of happy kisses. + +The admiral groaned, but for a long time he could not get a word in. +When he did it was chilling. "My poor girl," said he, "this unhappy +love blinds you. What, don't you see the woman is no nun, but some sly +hussy that man has sent to throw dust in your eyes?" + +Nothing she could say prevailed to turn him from this view, and he +acted upon it with resolution: he confined her excursions to a little +garden at the back of the house, and forbade her, on any pretense, to +cross the threshold. + +Miss Somerset came to the square in another disguise, armed with +important information. But no Bella Bruce appeared to meet her. + + + +All this time Richard Bassett was happy as a prince. + +So besotted was he with egotism, and so blinded by imaginary wrongs, +that he rejoiced in the lovers' separation, rejoiced in his cousin's +attack. + +Polly, who now regarded him almost as a lover, told him all about it; +and already in anticipation he saw himself and his line once more lords +of the two manors--Bassett and Huntercombe--on the demise of Sir +Charles Bassett, Bart., deceased without issue. + +And, in fact, Sir Charles was utterly defeated. He lay torpid. + +But there was a tough opponent in the way--all the more dangerous that +she was not feared. + +One fine day Miss Somerset electrified her groom by ordering her pony +carriage to the door at ten A. M. + +She took the reins on the pavement, like a man, jumped in light as a +feather, and away rattled the carriage into the City. The ponies were +all alive, the driver's eye keen as a bird's; her courage and her +judgment equal. She wound in and out among the huge vehicles with +perfect composure; and on those occasions when, the traffic being +interrupted, the oratorical powers were useful to fill up the time, she +shone with singular brilliance. The West End is too often in debt to +the City, but, in the matter of chaff, it was not so this day; for +whenever she took a peck she returned a bushel; and so she rattled to +the door of Solomon Oldfield, solicitor, Old Jewry. + +She penetrated into the inner office of that worthy, and told him he +must come with her that minute to Portman Square. + +"Impossible, madam!" And, as they say in the law reports, gave his +reasons. + +"Certain, sir!" And gave no reasons. + +He still resisted. + +Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day and chaff his +clients one after another, and that his connection with the Bassett and +Huntercombe estates should end. + +Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and consented, with a sigh. + +She drove him westward, wincing every now and then at her close +driving, and told him all, and showed him what she was pleased to call +her little game. He told her it was too romantic. Said he, "You ladies +read nothing but novels; but the real world is quite different from the +world of novels." Having delivered this remonstrance--which was +tolerably just, for she never read anything but novels and sermons--he +submitted like a lamb, and received her instructions. + +She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time they were at +Admiral Bruce's door. + +Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. "Mr. Oldfield, +solicitor, and a lady--on business." + +The porter delivered this to the footman with the accuracy which all +who send verbal messages deserve and may count on. "Mr. Oldfield and +lady." + +The footman, who represented the next step in oral tradition, without +which form of history the Heathen world would never have known that +Hannibal softened the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world that +eleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the size of Putney, +announced the pair as "Mr. and Mrs. Hautville." + +"I don't know them, I think. Well, I will see them." + +They entered, and the admiral stared a little, and wondered how this +couple came together--the keen but plain old man, with clothes hanging +on him, and the dashing beauty, with her dress in the height of the +fashion, and her gauntleted hands. However, he bowed ceremoniously, and +begged his visitors to be seated. + +Now the folding-doors were ajar, and the _soi-disant_ Mrs. Oldfield +peeped. She saw Bella Bruce at some distance, seated by the fire, in a +reverie. + +Judge that young lady's astonishment when she looked up and observed a +large white, well-shaped hand, sparkling with diamonds and rubies, +beckoning her furtively. + + + +The owner of that sparkling hand soon heard a soft rustle of silk come +toward the door; the very rustle, somehow, was eloquent, and betrayed +love and timidity, and something innocent yet subtle. The jeweled hand +went in again directly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MEANTIME Mr. Oldfield began to tell the admiral who he was, and that he +was come to remove a false impression about a client of his, Sir +Charles Bassett. + +"That, sir," said the admiral, sternly, "is a name we never mention +here." + +He rose and went to the folding-doors, and deliberately closed them. + +The Somerset, thus defeated, bit her lip, and sat all of a heap, like a +cat about to spring, looking sulky and vicious. + +Mr. Oldfield persisted, and, as he took the admiral's hint and lowered +his voice, he was interrupted no more, but made a simple statement of +those facts which are known to the reader. + +Admiral Bruce heard them, and admitted that the case was not quite so +bad as he had thought. + +Then Mr. Oldfield proposed that Sir Charles should be re-admitted. + +"No," said the old admiral, firmly; "turn it how you will, it is too +ugly; the bloom of the thing is gone. Why should my daughter take that +woman's leavings? Why should I give her pure heart to a man about +town?" + +"Because you will break it else," said Miss Somerset, with affected +politeness. + +"Give her credit for more dignity, madam, if you please," replied +Admiral Bruce, with equal politeness. + +"Oh, bother dignity!" cried the Somerset. + +At this free phrase from so well-dressed a lady Admiral Bruce opened +his eyes, and inquired of Oldfield, rather satirically, who was this +lady that did him the honor to interfere in his family affairs. + +Oldfield looked confused; but Somerset, full of mother-wit, was not to +be caught napping. "I'm a by-stander; and they always see clearer than +the folk themselves. You are a man of honor, sir, and you are very +clever at sea, no doubt, and a fighter, and all that; but you are no +match for land-sharks. You are being made a dupe and a tool of. Who do +you think wrote that anonymous letter to your daughter? A friend of +truth? a friend of injured innocence? Nothing of the sort. One Richard +Bassett--Sir Charles's cousin. Here, Mr. Oldfield, please compare these +two handwritings closely, and you will see I am right." She put down +the anonymous letter and Richard Bassett's letter to herself; but she +could not wait for Mr. Oldfield to compare the documents, now her +tongue was set going. "Yes, gentlemen, this is new to you; but you'll +find that little scheming rascal wrote them both, and with as base a +motive and as black a heart as any other anonymous coward's. His game +is to make Sir Charles Bassett die childless, and so then this dirty +fellow would inherit the estate; and owing to you being so green, and +swallowing an anonymous letter like pure water from the spring, he very +nearly got his way. Sir Charles has been at death's door along of all +this." + +"Hush, madam! not so loud, please," whispered Admiral Bruce, looking +uneasily toward the folding, doors. + +"Why not?" bawled the Somerset. "THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T +BE SHAMED. I tell you that your precious letter brought Sir Charles +Bassett to the brink of the grave. Soon as ever he got it he came +tearing in his cab to Miss Somerset's house, and accused her of telling +the lie to keep him--and he might have known better, for the jade never +did a sneaking thing in her life. But, any way, he thought it must be +her doing, miscalled her like a dog, and raged at her dreadful, and at +last--what with love and fury and despair--he had the terriblest fit +you ever saw. He fell down as black as your hat, and his eyes rolled, +and his teeth gnashed, and he foamed at the mouth, and took four to +hold him; and presently as white as a ghost, and given up for dead. No +pulse for hours; and when his life came back his reason was gone." + +"Good Heavens, madam!" + +"For a time it was. How he did rave! and 'Bella' the only name on his +lips. And now he lies in his own house as weak as water. Come, old +gentleman, don't you be too hard; you are not a child, like your +daughter; take the world as it is. Do you think you will ever find a +man of fortune who has not had a lady friend? Why, every single +gentleman in London that can afford to keep a saddle-horse has an +article of that sort in some corner or other; and if he parts with her +as soon as his banns are cried, that is all you can expect. Do you +think any mother in Belgravia would make a row about that? They are +downier than you are; they would shrug their aristocratic shoulders, +and decline to listen to the _past_ lives of their sons-in-law--unless +it was all in the newspapers, mind you." + +"If Belgravian mothers have mercenary minds, that is no reason why I +should, whose cheeks have bronzed in the service of a virtuous queen, +and whose hairs have whitened in honor." + +On receiving this broadside the Somerset altered her tone directly, and +said, obsequiously: "That is true, sir, and I beg your pardon for +comparing you to the trash. But brave men are pitiful, you know. Then +show your pity here. Pity a gentleman that repented his faults as soon +as your daughter showed him there was a better love within reach, and +now lies stung by an anonymous viper, and almost dying of love and +mortification; and pity your own girl, that will soon lose her health, +and perhaps her life, if you don't give in." + +"She is not so weak, madam. She is in better spirits already." + +"Ay, but then she didn't know what he had suffered for _her._ She does +now, for I heard her moan; and she will die for him now, or else she +will give you twice as many kisses as usual some day, and cry a +bucketful over you, and then run away with her lover. I know women +better than you do; I am one of the precious lot." + +The admiral replied only with a look of superlative scorn. This +incensed the Somerset; and that daring woman, whose ear was nearer to +the door, and had caught sounds that escaped the men, actually turned +the handle, and while her eye flashed defiance, her vigorous foot +spurned the folding-doors wide open in half a moment. + +Bella Bruce lay with her head sidewise on the table, and her hands +extended, moaning and sobbing piteously for poor Sir Charles. + +"For shame, madam, to expose my child," cried the admiral, bursting +with indignation and grief. He rushed to her and took her in his arms. + +She scarcely noticed him, for the moment he turned her she caught sight +of Miss Somerset, and recognized her face in a moment. "Ah! the Sister +of Charity!" she cried, and stretched out her hands to her, with a look +and a gesture so innocent, confiding, and imploring, that the Somerset, +already much excited by her own eloquence, took a turn not uncommon +with termagants, and began to cry herself. + +But she soon stopped that, for she saw her time was come to go, and +avoid unpleasant explanations. She made a dart and secured the two +letters. "Settle it among yourselves," said she, wheeling round and +bestowing this advice on the whole party; then shot a sharp arrow at +the admiral as she fled: "If you must be a tool of Richard Bassett, +don't be a tool and a dupe by halves. _He_ is in love with her too. +Marry her to the blackguard, and then you will be sure to kill Sir +Charles." Having delivered this with such volubility that the words +pattered out like a roll of musketry, she flounced out, with red cheeks +and wet eyes, rushed down the stairs, and sprang into her carriage, +whipped the ponies, and away at a pace that made the spectators stare. + +Mr. Oldfield muttered some excuses, and retired more sedately. + +All this set Bella Bruce trembling and weeping, and her father was some +time before he could bring her to anything like composure. Her first +words, when she could find breath, were, "He is innocent; he is +unhappy. Oh, that I could fly to him!" + +"Innocent! What proof?" + +"That brave lady said so." + +"Brave lady! A bold hussy. Most likely a friend of the woman Somerset, +and a bird of the same feather. Sir Charles has done himself no good +with me by sending such an emissary." + +"No, papa; it was the lawyer brought her, and then her own good heart +_made her burst out._ Ah! she is not like me: she has courage. What a +noble thing courage is, especially in a woman!" + +"Pray did you hear the language of this noble lady?" + +"Every word nearly; and I shall never forget them. They were diamonds +and pearls." + +"Of the sort you can pick up at Billingsgate." + +"Ah, papa, she pleaded for _him_ as I cannot plead, and yet I love him. +It was true eloquence. Oh, how she made me shudder! Only think: he had +a fit, and lost his reason, and all for me. What shall I do? What shall +I do?" + +This brought on a fit of weeping. + +Her father pitied her, and gave her a crumb of sympathy: said he was +sorry for Sir Charles. + +"But," said he, recovering his resolution, "it cannot be helped. He +must expiate his vices, like other men. Do, pray, pluck up a little +spirit and sense. Now try and keep to the point. This woman came from +him; and you say you heard her language, and admire it. Quote me some +of it." + +"She said he fell down as black as his hat, and his eyes rolled, and +his poor teeth gnashed, and--oh, my darling! my darling! oh! oh! oh!" + +"There--there--I mean about other things." + +Bella complied, but with a running accompaniment of the sweetest little +sobs. + +"She said I must be very green, to swallow an anonymous letter like +spring water. Oh! oh!" + +"Green? There was a word!" + +"Oh! oh! But it is the right word. You can't mend it. Try, and you will +see you can't. Of course I was green. Oh! And she said every gentleman +who can afford to keep a saddle-horse has a female friend, till his +banns are called in church. Oh! oh!" + +"A pretty statement to come to your ears!" + +"But if it is the truth! 'THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T BE +SHAMED.' Ah! I'll not forget that: I'll pray every night I may remember +those words of the brave lady. Oh!" + +"Yes, take her for your oracle." + +"I mean to. I always try to profit by my superiors. She has courage: I +have none. I beat about the bush, and talk skim-milk; she uses the very +word. She said we have been the dupe and the tool of a little scheming +rascal, an anonymous coward, with motives as base as his heart is +black--oh! oh! Ay, that is the way to speak of such a man; I can't do +it myself, but I reverence the brave lady who can. And she wasn't +afraid even of you, dear papa. 'Come, old gentleman'--ha! ha! +ha!--'take the world as it is; Belgravian mothers would not break +_both_ their hearts for what is past and gone.' What hard good sense! a +thing I always _did_ admire: because I've got none. But her _heart_ is +not hard; after all her words of fire, that went so straight instead of +beating the bush, she ended by crying for me. Oh! oh! oh! Bless her! +Bless her! If ever there was a good woman in the world, that is one. +She was not born a lady, I am afraid; but that is nothing: she was born +a woman, and I mean to make her acquaintance, and take her for my +example in all things. No, dear papa, women are not so pitiful to women +without cause. She is almost a stranger, yet she cried for me. Can you +be harder to me than she is? No; pity your poor girl, who will lose her +health, and perhaps her life. Pity poor Charles, stung by an anonymous +viper, and laid on a bed of sickness for me. Oh! oh! oh!" + +"I do pity you, Bella. When you cry like this, my heart bleeds." + +"I'll try not to cry, papa. Oh! oh!" + +"But most of all, I pity your infatuation, your blindness. Poor, +innocent dove, that looks at others by the light of her own goodness, +and so sees all manner of virtues in a brazen hussy. Now answer me one +plain question. You called her 'the Sister!' Is she not the same woman +that played the Sister of Charity?" + +Bella blushed to the temples, and said, hesitatingly, she was not quite +sure. + +"Come, Bella. I thought you were going to imitate the jade, and not +beat about the bush. Yes or no?" + +"The features are very like." + +"Bella, you know it is the same woman. You recognized her in a moment. +That speaks volumes. But she shall find I am not to be made 'a dupe and +a tool of' quite so easily as she thinks. I'll tell you what--this is +some professional actress Sir Charles has hired to waylay you. Little +simpleton!" + +He said no more at that time; but after dinner he ruminated, and took a +very serious, indeed almost a maritime, view of the crisis. "I'm +overmatched now," thought he. "They will cut my sloop out under the +very guns of the flagship if we stay much longer in this port--a lawyer +against me, and a woman too; there's nothing to be done but heave +anchor, hoist sail, and run for it." + +He sent off a foreign telegram, and then went upstairs. "Bella, my +dear," said he, "pack up your clothes for a journey. We start +to-morrow." + +"A journey, papa! A long one?" + +"No. We shan't double the Horn this time." + +"Brighton? Paris?" + +"Oh, farther than that." + +"The grave: that is the journey I should like to take." + + "So you shall, some day; but just now it is a _foreign_ port you are +bound for. Go and pack." + +"I obey." And she was creeping off, but he called her back and kissed +her, and said, "Now I'll tell you where you are going; but you must +promise me solemnly not to write one line to Sir Charles." + +She promised, but cried as soon as she had promised; whereat the +admiral inferred he had done wisely to exact the promise. + +"Well, my dear," said he, "we are going to Baden. Your aunt Molineux is +there. She is a woman of great delicacy and prudence, and has daughters +of her own all well married, thanks to her motherly care. She will +bring you to your senses better than I can." + +Next evening they left England by the mail; and the day after Richard +Bassett learned this through his servant, and went home triumphant, +and, indeed, wondering at his success. He ascribed it, however, to the +Nemesis which dogs the heels of those who inherit the estate of +another. + +Such was the only moral reflection he made, though the business in +general, and particularly his share in it, admitted of several. + + Miss Somerset also heard of it, and told Mr. Oldfield; he told Sir +Charles Bassett. + +That gentleman sighed deeply, and said nothing. He had lost all hope. + + + +The whole matter appeared stagnant for about ten days; and then a +delicate hand stirred the dead waters cautiously. Mr. Oldfield, of all +people in the world, received a short letter from Bella Bruce. + + + +"Konigsberg Hotel, BADEN. + +"Miss Bruce presents her compliments to Mr. Oldfield, and will feel +much obliged if he will send her the name and address of that brave +lady who accompanied him to her father's house. + +"Miss Bruce desires to thank that lady, personally, for her noble +defense of one with whom it would be improper for her to communicate; +but she can never be indifferent to his welfare, nor hear of his +sufferings without deep sorrow." + + + +"Confound it!" said Solomon Oldfield. "What am I to do? I mustn't tell +her it is Miss Somerset." So the wary lawyer had a copy of the letter +made, and sent to Miss Somerset for instructions. + +Miss Somerset sent for Mr. Marsh, who was now more at her beck and call +than ever, and told him she had a ticklish letter to write. "I can talk +with the best," said she, "but the moment I sit down and take up a pen +something cold runs up my shoulder, and then down my backbone, and I'm +palsied; now you are always writing, and can't say 'Bo' to a goose in +company. Let us mix ourselves; I'll walk about and speak my mind, and +then you put down the cream, and send it." + +From this ingenious process resulted the following composition: + + + +"She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call 'the brave lady' happened +to know the truth, and that tempted her to try and baffle an anonymous +slanderer, who was ruining the happiness of a lady and gentleman. Being +a person of warm impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishes +to retire into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce's desire to +know her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but at present +she must deny herself that honor. If her reasons were known, Miss Bruce +would not be offended nor hurt; she would entirely approve them." + + + +Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, disconsolate, +his servant told him a lady wanted to see him. + +"Who is it?" + +"Don't know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort of a nun, Sir +Charles." + +"Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that nursed me. Admit her, by +all means." + +The Sister came in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received her +with profound respect, and thanked her, with some little hesitation, +for her kind attention to him. She stopped him by saying that was +merely her duty. "But," said she, softly, "words fell from you, on the +bed of sickness, that touched my heart; and besides I happen to know +the lady." + +"You know my Bella!" cried Sir Charles. "Ah, then no wonder you speak +so kindly; you can feel what I have lost. She has left England to avoid +me." + +"All the better. Where she is the door cannot be closed in your face. +She is at Baden. Follow her there. She has heard the truth from Mr. +Oldfield, and she knows who wrote the anonymous letter." + +"And who did?" + +"Mr. Richard Bassett." + +This amazed Sir Charles. + +"The scoundrel!" said he, after a long silence. + +"Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you, for his own ends? I would +go at once to Baden. Your leaving England would be one more proof to +her that she has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you will +win her, I tell you." + +These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He rose from his chair, +flushed with sudden hope and ardor. "I'll leave for Baden to-morrow +morning." + +The Sister rose to retire. + +"No, no," cried Sir Charles. "I have not thanked you. I ought to go +down on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?" + +"No matter, sir." + +"But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and now +you give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust me +with your name?" + +"We have no name." + +"Your voice at times sounds very like--no, I will not affront you by +such a comparison." + +"I'm her sister," said she, like lightning. + +This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent and +uncomfortable. It gave him a chill. + +The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. + +Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. "It +must be as beautiful as your heart." + +The Sister shook her head. "My face has been disfigured by a frightful +disorder." + +Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity. + +"I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me as you seem to do. +But perhaps it will not always be so." + +"I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. Can I do nothing for +you, who have done so much for me?" + +"Nothing--unless--" said she, feigning vast timidity, "you could spare +me that ring of yours, as a remembrance of the part I have played in +this affair." + +Sir Charles colored. It was a ruby of the purest water, and had been +two centuries in his family. He colored, but was too fine a gentleman +to hesitate. He said, "By all means. But it is a poor thing to offer +_you."_ + +"I shall value it very much." + +"Say no more. I am fortunate in having anything you deign to accept." + +And so the ring changed hands. + +The Sister now put it on her middle finger, and held up her hand, and +her bright eyes glanced at it, through her veil, with that delight +which her sex in general feel at the possession of a new bauble. She +recovered herself, however, and told him, soberly, the ring should +return to his family at her death, if not before. + +"I will give you a piece of advice for it," said she. "Miss Bruce has +foxy hair; and she is very timid. Don't you take her advice about +commanding her. She would like to be your slave! Don't let her. Coax +her to speak her mind. Make a friend of her. Don't you put her to +this--that she must displease you, or else deceive you. She might +choose wrong, especially with that colored hair." + +"It is not in her nature to deceive." + +"It is not in her nature to displease. Excuse me; I am too fanciful, +and look at women too close. But I know your happiness depends on her. +All your eggs are in that one basket. Well, I have told you how to +carry the basket. Good-by." + +Sir Charles saw her out, and bowed respectfully to her in the hall, +while his servant opened the street door. He did her this homage as his +benefactress. + + + +When admiral and Miss Bruce reached Baden Mrs. Molineux was away on a +visit; and this disappointed Admiral Bruce, who had counted on her +assistance to manage and comfort Bella. Bella needed the latter very +much. A glance at her pale, pensive, lovely face was enough to show +that sorrow was rooted at her heart. She was subjected to no restraint, +but kept the house of her own accord, thinking, as persons of her age +are apt to do, that her whole history must be written in her face. +Still, of course, she did go out sometimes; and one cold but bright +afternoon she was strolling languidly on the parade, when all in a +moment she met Sir Charles Bassett face to face. + +She gave an eloquent scream, and turned pale a moment, and then the hot +blood came rushing, and then it retired, and she stood at bay, with +heaving bosom--and great eyes. + +Sir Charles held out both hands pathetically. "Don't you be afraid of +me." + +When she found he was so afraid of offending her she became more +courageous. "How dare you come here?" said she, but with more curiosity +than violence, for it had been her dream of hope he would come. + +"How could I keep away, when I heard you were here?" + +"You must not speak to me, sir; I am forbidden." + +"Pray do not condemn me unheard." + +"If I listen to you I shall believe you. I won't hear a word. Gentlemen +can do things that ladies cannot even speak about. Talk to my aunt +Molineux; our fate depends on her. This will teach you not to be so +wicked. What business have gentlemen to be so wicked? Ladies are not. +No, it is no use; I will not hear a syllable. I am ashamed to be seen +speaking to you. You are a bad character. Oh, Charles, is it true you +had a fit?" + +"Yes." + +"And have you been very ill? You look ill." + +"I am better now, dearest." + +"Dearest! Don't call me names. How dare you keep speaking to me when I +request you not?" + +"But I can't excuse myself, and obtain my pardon, and recover your +love, unless I am allowed to speak." + +"Oh, you can speak to my aunt Molineux, and she will read you a fine +lesson." + +"Where is she?" + +"Nobody knows. But there is her house, the one with the iron gate. Get +her ear first, if you really love me; and don't you ever waylay me +again. If you do, I shall say something rude to you, sir. Oh, I'm so +happy!" + +Having let this out, she hid her face with her hands, and fled like the +very wind. + +At dinner-time she was in high spirits. + +The admiral congratulated her. + +"Brava, Bell! Youth and health and a foreign air will soon cure you of +that folly." + +Bella blushed deeply, and said nothing. The truth struggled within her, +too, but she shrank from giving pain, and receiving expostulation. + +She kept the house, though, for two days, partly out of modesty, partly +out of an honest and pious desire to obey her father as much as she +could. + +The third day Mrs. Molineux arrived, and sent over to the admiral. + +He invited Bella to come with him. She consented eagerly, but was so +long in dressing that he threatened to go without her. She implored him +not to do that; and after a monstrous delay, the motive of which the +reader may perhaps divine, father and daughter called on Mrs. Molineux. +She received them very affectionately. But when the admiral, with some +hesitation, began to enter on the great subject, she said, quietly, +"Bella, my dear, go for a walk, and come back to me in half an hour." + +"Aunt Molineux!" said Bella, extending both her hands imploringly to +that lady. + +Mrs. Molineux was proof against this blandishment, and Bella had to go. + +When she was gone, this lady, who both as wife and mother was literally +a model, rather astonished her brother the admiral. She said: "I am +sorry to tell you that you have conducted this matter with perfect +impropriety, both you and Bella. She had no business to show you that +anonymous letter; and when she did show it you, you should have taken +it from her, and told her not to believe a word of it." + +"And married my daughter to a libertine! Why, Charlotte, I am ashamed +of you." + +Mrs. Molineux colored high; but she kept her temper, and ignored the +interruption. "Then, if you decided to go into so indelicate a question +at all (and really you were not bound to do so on anonymous +information), why, then, you should have sent for Sir Charles, and +given him the letter, and put him on his honor to tell you the truth. +He would have told you the fact, instead of a garbled version; and the +fact is that before he knew Bella he had a connection, which he +prepared to dissolve, on terms very honorable to himself, as soon as he +engaged himself to your daughter. What is there in that? Why, it is +common, universal, among men of fashion. I am so vexed it ever came to +Bella's knowledge: really it is dreadful to me, as a mother, that such +a thing should have been discussed before that child. Complete +innocence means complete ignorance; and that is how all my girls went +to their husbands. However, what we must do now is to tell her Sir +Charles has satisfied me he was not to blame; and after that the +subject must never be recurred to. Sir Charles has promised me never to +mention it, and no more shall Bella. And now, my dear John, let me +congratulate you. Your daughter has a high-minded lover, who adores +her, with a fine estate: he has been crying to me, poor fellow, as men +will to a woman of my age; and if you have any respect for my +judgment--ask him to dinner." + +She added that it might be as well if, after dinner, he were to take a +little nap. + +Admiral Bruce did not fall into these views without discussion. I spare +the reader the dialogue, since he yielded at last; only he stipulated +that his sister should do the dinner, and the subsequent siesta. + +Bella returned looking very wistful and anxious. + +"Come here, niece," said Mrs. Molineux. "Kneel you at my knee. Now +look--me in the face. Sir Charles has loved you, and you only, from the +day he first saw you. He loves you now as much as ever. Do you love +him?" + +"Oh, aunt! aunt!" A shower of kisses, and a tear or two. + +"That is enough. Then dry your eyes, and dress your beautiful hair a +little better than _that;_ for he dines with me to-day!" + +Who so bright and happy now as Bella Bruce? + + + +The dreaded aunt did not stop there. She held that after the peep into +real life Bella Bruce had obtained, for want of a mother's vigilance, +she ought to be a wife as soon as possible. So she gave Sir Charles a +hint that Baden was a very good place to be married in; and from that +moment Sir Charles gave Bella and her father no rest till they +consented. + +Little did Richard Bassett, in England, dream what was going on at +Baden. He now surveyed the chimneys of Huntercombe Hall with +resignation, and even with growing complacency, as chimneys that would +one day be his, since their owner would not be in a hurry to love +again. He shot Sir Charles's pheasants whenever they strayed into his +hedgerows, and he lived moderately and studied health. In a word, +content with the result of his anonymous letter, he confined himself +now to cannily out-living the wrongful heir--his cousin. + +One fine frosty day the chimneys of Huntercombe began to show signs of +life; vertical columns of blue smoke rose in the air, one after +another, till at last there were about forty going. + +Old servants flowed down from London. New ones trickled in, with their +boxes, from the country. Carriages were drawn out into the stable-yard, +horses exercised, and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to live +on his estates, and not alone. + +Richard Bassett went about inquiring cautiously. + +The rumor spread and was confirmed by some little facts. + +At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all smoking, the +church-bells began to peal. + +Richard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply. He found the +village all agog with expectation. + +Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and a flag floated +from the top of Huntercombe House. Murmurs. Distant cheers. Approaching +cheers. The clatter of horses' feet. The roll of wheels. Huntercombe +gates flung wide open by a cluster of grooms and keepers. + +Then on came two outriders, ushered by loud hurrahs, and followed by a +carriage and four that dashed through the village amid peals of delight +from the villagers. The carriage was open, and in it sat Sir Charles +and Bella Bassett. She was lovelier than ever; she dazzled the very air +with her beauty and her glorious hair. The hurrahs of the villagers +made her heart beat; she pressed Sir Charles's hand tenderly, and +literally shone with joy and pride; and so she swept past Richard +Bassett; she saw him directly, shuddered a moment, and half clung to +her husband; then on again, and passed through the open gates amid loud +cheers. She alighted in her own hall, and walked, nodding and smiling +sunnily, through two files of domestics and retainers; and thought no +more of Richard Bassett than some bright bird that has flown over a +rattlesnake and glanced down at him. + + + +But a gorgeous bird cannot always be flying. A snake can sometimes +creep under her perch, and glare, and keep hissing, till she shudders +and droops and lays her plumage in the dust. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GENERALLY deliberate crimes are followed by some great punishment; but +they are also often attended in their course by briefer +chastisements--single strokes from the whip that holds the round dozen +in reserve. These precursors of the grand expiation are sharp but +kindly lashes, for they tend to whip the man out of the wrong road. + +Such a stroke fell on Richard Bassett: he saw Bella Bruce sweep past +him, clinging to her husband, and shuddering at himself. For this, +then, he had plotted and intrigued and written an anonymous letter. The +only woman he had ever loved at all went past him with a look of +aversion, and was his enemy's wife, and would soon be the mother of +that enemy's children, and blot him forever out of the coveted +inheritance. + +The man crept home, and sat by his little fireside, crushed. Indeed, +from that hour he disappeared, and drank his bitter cup alone. + +After a while it transpired in the village that he was very ill. The +clergyman went to visit him, but was not admitted. The only person who +got to see him was his friend Wheeler, a small but sharp attorney, by +whose advice he acted in country matters. This Wheeler was very fond of +shooting, and could not get a crack at a pheasant except on Highmore; +and that was a bond between him and its proprietor. It was Wheeler who +had first told Bassett not to despair of possessing the estates, since +they had inserted Sir Charles's heir at law in the entail. + +This Wheeler found him now so shrunk in body, so pale and haggard in +face, and dejected in mind, that he was really shocked, and asked leave +to send a doctor from a neighboring town. + +"What to do?" said Richard, moodily. "It's my mind; it's not my body. +Ah, Wheeler, it is all over. I and mine shall never have Huntercombe +now." + +"I'll tell you what it is," said Wheeler, almost angrily, "you will +have six feet by two of it before long if you go on this way. Was ever +such folly! to fret yourself out of this jolly world because you can't +get one particular slice of its upper crust. Why, one bit of land is as +good as another; and I'll show you how to get land--in this +neighborhood, too. Ay, right under Sir Charles's nose." + +"Show me that," said Bassett, gloomily and incredulously. + +"Leave off moping, then, and I will. I advise the bank, you know, and +'Splatchett's' farm is mortgaged up to the eyes. It is not the only +one. I go to the village inns, and pick up all the gossip I hear +there." + +"How am I to find money to buy land?" + +"I'll put you up to that, too; but you must leave off moping. Hang it, +man, never say die. There are plenty of chances on the cards. Get your +color back, and marry a girl with money, and turn that into land. The +first thing is to leave off grizzling. Why, you are playing the enemy's +game. That can't be right, can it?" + +This remark was the first that really roused the sick man. + +Wheeler had too few clients to lose one. He now visited Bassett almost +daily, and, being himself full of schemes and inventions, he got +Bassett, by degrees, out of his lethargy, and he emerged into daylight +again; but he looked thin, and yellow as a guinea, and he had turned +miser. He kept but one servant, and fed her and himself at Sir Charles +Bassett's expense. He wired that gentleman's hares and rabbits in his +own hedges. He went out with his gun every sunny afternoon, and shot a +brace or two of pheasants, without disturbing the rest; for he took no +dog with him to run and yelp, but a little boy, who quietly tapped the +hedgerows and walked the sunny banks and shaws. They never came home +empty-handed. + +But on those rarer occasions when Sir Charles and his friends beat the +Bassett woods Richard was sure to make a large bag; for he was a cool, +unerring shot, and flushed the birds in hedgerows, slips of underwood, +etc., to which the fairer sportsmen had driven them. + +These birds and the surplus hares he always sold in the market-town, +and put the money into a box. The rabbits he ate, and also squirrels, +and, above all, young hedgehogs: a gypsy taught him how to cook them, +viz., by inclosing them in clay, and baking them in wood embers; then +the bristles adhere to the burned clay, and the meat is juicy. He was +his own gardener, and vegetables cost him next to nothing. + +So he went on through all the winter months, and by the spring his +health and strength were restored. Then he turned woodman, cut down +every stick of timber in a little wood near his house, and sold it; and +then set to work to grub up the roots for fires, and cleared it for +tillage. The sum he received for the wood was much more than he +expected, and this he made a note of. + +He had a strong body, that could work hard all day, a big hate, and a +mania for the possession of land. And so he led a truly Spartan life, +and everybody in the village said he was mad. + +While he led this hard life Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were the +gayest of the gay. She was the beauty and the bride. Visits and +invitations poured in from every part of the country. Sir Charles, +flattered by the homage paid to his beloved, made himself younger and +less fastidious to indulge her; and the happy pair often drove twelve +miles to dinner, and twenty to dine and sleep--an excellent custom in +that country, one of whose favorite toasts is worth recording: "MAY YOU +DINE WHERE YOU PLEASE, AND SLEEP WHERE YOU DINE." + +They were at every ball, and gave one or two themselves. + +Above all, they enjoyed society in that delightful form which is +confined to large houses. They would have numerous and well-assorted +visitors staying at the house for a week or so, and all dining at a +huge round table. But two o'clock P.M. was the time to see how hosts +and guests enjoyed themselves. The hall door of Huntercombe was +approached by a flight of stone steps, easy of ascent, and about +twenty-four feet wide. At the riding hour the county ladies used to +come, one after another, holding up their riding-habits with one hand, +and perch about this gigantic flight of steps like peacocks, and +chatter like jays, while the servants walked their horses about the +gravel esplanade, and the four-in-hand waited a little in the rear. A +fine champing of bits and fidgeting of thoroughbreds there was, till +all were ready; then the ladies would each put out her little foot, +with charming nonchalance, to the nearest gentleman or groom, with a +slight preference for the grooms, who were more practiced. The man +lifted, the lady sprang at the same time, and into her saddle like a +bird--Lady Bassett on a very quiet pony, or in the carriage to please +some dowager--and away they clattered in high spirits, a regular +cavalcade. It was a hunting county, and the ladies rode well; square +seat, light hand on the snaffle, the curb reserved for cases of +necessity; and, when they had patted the horse on the neck at starting, +as all these coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well-bred +ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which distinguishes ladies +who have ridden all their lives from the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park, +who ride, if riding it can be called, with their elbows uncouthly +fastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit of +their stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a housemaid's, sawing +the poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while the whole body +breathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, "Look at me; I +am on horseback! Be startled at that--as I am! and I have had lessons +from a riding-master. He has taught me how a lady should ride"--in his +opinion, poor devil. + +The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the clattering of these +bright cavalcades, with the music of the women excited by motion, +furnished a picture of wealth and gayety and happy country life that +cheered the whole neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with the stern +Spartan life of him who had persuaded himself he was the rightful owner +of Huntercombe Hall. + +Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found himself a bad one. +One day he made a little mistake, which, owing to his popularity, was +very gently handled by the Bench at their weekly meeting; but still Sir +Charles was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly to Oldfield for +law books, and that gentleman sent him an excellent selection bound in +smooth calf. + +Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except hunting days, +when no squire can work; and as his study was his justice room, he took +care to find an authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, and +rustic offenders, especially poachers and runaway farm servants, used +to think themselves fortunate if they were taken before him and not +before Squire Powys, who was sure to give them the sharp edge of the +law. So now Sir Charles was useful as well as ornamental. + +Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only one little +cloud--there was no sign yet of a son and heir. But let a man be ever +so powerful, it is an awkward thing to have a bitter, inveterate enemy +at his door watching for a chance. Sir Charles began to realize this in +the sixteenth month of his wedded bliss. A small estate called +"Splatchett's" lay on his north side, and a marginal strip of this +property ran right into a wood of his. This strip was wretched land, +and the owner, unable to raise any wheat crop on it, had planted it +with larches. + +Sir Charles had made him a liberal offer for "Splatchett's" about six +years ago; but he had refused point-blank, being then in good +circumstances. + +Sir Charles now received a hint from one of his own gamekeepers that +the old farmer was in a bad way, and talked of selling. So Sir Charles +called on him, and asked him if he would sell "Splatchett's" now. "Why, +I can't sell it twice," said the old man, testily. "You ha' got it, +han't ye?" It turned out that Richard Bassett had been beforehand. The +bank had pressed for their money, and threatened foreclosure; then +Bassett had stepped in with a good price; and although the conveyance +was not signed, a stamped agreement was, and neither vender nor +purchaser could go back. What made it more galling, the proprietor was +not aware of the feud between the Bassetts, and had thought to please +Sir Charles by selling to one of his name. + +Sir Charles Bassett went home seriously vexed. He did not mean to tell +his wife; but love's eye read his face, love's arm went round his neck, +and love's soft voice and wistful eyes soon coaxed it out of him. "Dear +Charles," said she, "never mind. It is mortifying; but think how much +you have, and how little that wicked man has. Let him have that farm; +he has lost his self-respect, and that is worth a great many farms. For +my part, I pity the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wife +will try, against him, to make you happy, my own beloved; and I think I +may prove as strong as Mr. Bassett," said she, with a look of +inspiration. + +Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight a scratch. + +But they had not done with "Splatchett's" yet. Just after Christmas Sir +Charles invited three gentlemen to beat his more distant preserves. +Their guns bellowed in quick succession through the woods, and at last +they reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid shooting, as a +great many cock pheasants had already been seen running ahead. + +But when they got to the end of the wood they found Lawyer Wheeler +standing against a tree just within "Splatchett's" boundary, and one of +their own beaters reported that two boys were stationed in the road, +each tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to that strip +of land, on which the low larches and high grass afforded a strong +covert. + +Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary. + +Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the cock pheasants, one +after another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating. + +The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escaped +him and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firing +from the hard road. Only those were spared that flew northward into +"Splatchett's." It was a veritable slaughter, planned with judgment, +and carried out in a most ungentlemanlike and unsportsmanlike manner. + +It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After several vain efforts +to restrain himself, he shouldered his gun, and, followed by his +friends, went bursting through the larches to Richard Bassett. + +"Mr. Bassett," said he, "this is most ungentlernanly conduct." + +"What is the matter, sir? Am I on your ground?" + +"No, but you are taking a mean advantage of our being out. Who ever +heard of a gentleman beating his boundaries the very day a neighbor was +out shooting, and filling them with his game?" + +"Oh, that is it, is it? When justice is against you you can talk of +law, and when law is against you you appeal to justice. Let us be in +one story or the other, please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me by +birth. You have got them by legal trickery. Keep them while you live. +_They will come to me one day, you know._ Meantime, leave me my little +estate of 'Splatchett's.' For shame, sir; you have robbed me of my +inheritance and my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few cock pheasants? +Why, you have made me so poor they are an object to me now." + +"Oh!" said Sir Charles, "if you are stealing my game to keep body and +soul together, I pity you. In that case, perhaps you will let my +friends help you fill your larder." + +Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near at +the sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent. + +"By all means," said he, adroitly. "Mr. Markham, your father often shot +with mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little +'Splatchett's.' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy +bunglers, and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for the +gentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only want the birds." + +Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whiz +into the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followed +by a shower of feathers. + +His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He left +them in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home. + +He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she got it all +from him. She was very indignant at many of the things; but as for Sir +Charles, all his cousin's arrows glided off that high-minded gentleman, +except one, and that quivered in his heart. "Yes, Bella," said he, "he +told me he should inherit these estates. That is because we are not +blessed with children." + +Lady Bassett sighed. "But we shall be some day. Shall we not?" + +"God knows," said Sir Charles, gloomily. "I wonder whether there was +really anything unfair done on our side when the entail was cut off?" + +"Is that likely, dearest? Why?" + +"Heaven seems to be on his side." + +"On the side of a wicked man?" + +"But he may be the father of innocent children." + +"Why, he is not even married." + +"He will marry. He will not throw a chance away. It makes my head +dizzy, and my heart sick. Bella, now I can understand two enemies +meeting alone in some solitary place, and one killing the other in a +moment of rage; for when this scoundrel insulted me I remembered his +anonymous letter, and all his relentless malice. Bella, I could have +raised my gun and shot him like a weasel." + +Lady Bassett screamed faintly, and flung her arms round his neck. "Oh, +Charles, pray to God against such thoughts. You shall never go near +that man again. Don't think of our one disappointment: think of all the +blessings we enjoy. Never mind that wretched man's hate. Think of your +wife's love. Have I not more power to make you happy than he has to +afflict you, my adored?" These sweet words were accompanied by a wife's +divine caresses; with the honey of her voice, and the liquid sunshine +of her loving eyes. Sir Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgot +his one grief and his one enemy for a time. + +Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and thought deeply of +Richard Bassett and "his unrelenting, impenitent malice." Women of her +fine fiber, when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often +divinations. The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time by +flashes of lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events to +come, And so it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror of +the future and of Richard Bassett crept over her--a terror +disproportioned to his past acts and apparent power. Perhaps she was +oppressed by having an enemy--she, who was born to be loved. At all +events, she was full of feminine divinations and forebodings, and saw, +by flashes, many a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver and strike the +beloved breast. It had already discharged one that had parted them for +a time, and nearly killed Sir Charles. + +Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but left a sober dread +and a strange resolution. This timid creature, stimulated by love, +determined to watch the foe, and defend her husband with all her little +power. All manner of devices passed through her head, but were +rejected, because, if Love said "Do wonders," Timidity said "Do nothing +that you have not seen other wives do." So she remained, scheming, and +longing, and fearing, and passive, all day. But the next day she +conceived a vague idea, and, all in a heat, rang for her maid. While +the maid was coming she fell to blushing at her own boldness, and, just +as the maid opened the door, her thermometer fell so low that--she sent +her upstairs for a piece of work. Oh, lame and impotent conclusion! + +Just before luncheon she chanced to look through a window, and to see +the head gamekeeper crossing the park, and coming to the house. Now +this was the very man she wanted to speak to. The sudden temptation +surprised her out of her timidity. She rang the bell again, and sent +for the man. + +That Colossus wondered in his mind, and felt uneasy at an invitation so +novel. However, he clattered into the morning-room, in his velveteen +coat, and leathern gaiters up to his thigh, pulled his front hair, +bobbed his head, and then stood firm in body as was he of Rhodes, but +in mind much abashed at finding himself in her ladyship's presence. + +The lady, however, did not prove so very terrible. "May I inquire your +name, sir?" said she, very respectfully. + +"Moses Moss, my lady." + +"Mr. Moss, I wish to ask you a question or two. _May_ I?" + +"That you may, my lady." + +"I want you to explain, if you will be so good, how the proprietor of +'Splatchett's' can shoot all Sir Charles's pheasants." + +"Lord! my lady, we ain't come down to that. But he do shoot more than +his share, that's sure an' sartain. Well, my lady, if you please, game +is just like Christians: it will make for sunny spots. Highmore has got +a many of them there, with good cover; so we breeds for him. As for +'Splatchett's,' that don't hurt we, my lady; it is all arable land and +dead hedges, with no bottom; only there's one little tongue of it runs +into North Wood, and planted with larch; and, if you please, my lady, +there is always a kind of coarse grass grows under young larches, and +makes a strong cover for game. So, beat North Wood which way you will, +them artful old cocks will run ahead of ye, or double back into them +larches. And you see Mr. Bassett is not a gentleman, like Sir Charles; +he is always a-mouching about, and the biggest poacher in the parish; +and so he drops on to 'em out of bounds." + +"Is there no way of stopping all this, sir?" + +"We might station a dozen beaters ahead. They would most likely get +shot; but I don't think as they'd mind that much if you had set your +heart on it, my lady. Dall'd if I would, for one." + +"Oh, Mr. Moss! Heaven forbid that any man should be shot for me. No, +not for all the pheasants in the world. I'll try and think of some +other way. I should like to see the place. _May_ I?" + +"Yes, my lady, and welcome." + +"How shall I get to it, sir?" + +"You can ride to the 'Woodman's Rest,' my lady, and it is scarce a +stone's-throw from there; but 'tis baddish traveling for the likes of +you." + +She appointed an hour, rode with her groom to the public-house, and +thence was conducted through bush, through brier, to the place where +her husband had been so annoyed. + +Moss's comments became very intelligible to her the moment she saw the +place. She said very little, however, and rode home. + +Next day she blushed high, and asked Sir Charles for a hundred pounds +to spend upon herself. + +Sir Charles smiled, well pleased, and gave it her, and a kiss into the +bargain. + +"Ah! but," said she, "that is not all." + +"I am glad of it. You spend too little money on yourself--a great deal +too little." + +"That is a complaint you won't have long to make. I want to cut down a +few trees. _May_ I?" + +"Going to build?" + +"Don't ask me. It is for myself." + +"That is enough. Cut down every stick on the estate if you like. The +barer it leaves us the better." + +"Ah, Charles, you promised me not. I shall cut with great discretion, I +assure you." + +"As you please," said Sir Charles. "If you want to make me happy, deny +yourself nothing. Mind, I shall be angry if you do." + + Soon after this a gaping quidnunc came to Sir Charles and told him +Lady Bassett was felling trees in North Wood. + +"And pray who has a better right to fell trees in any wood of mine?" + +"But she is building a wall." + +"And who has a better right to build a wall?" + +With the delicacy of a gentleman he would not go near the place after +this till she asked him; and that was not long, She came into his +study, all beaming, and invited him to a ride. She took him into North +Wood, and showed him her work. Richard Bassett's plantation, hitherto +divided from North Wood only by a boundary scarcely visible, was now +shut off by a brick wall: on Sir Charles's side of that wall every +stick of timber was felled and removed for a distance of fifty yards, +and about twenty yards from the wall a belt of larches was planted, a +little higher than cabbages. + +Sir Charles looked amazed at first, but soon observed how thoroughly +his enemy was defeated. "My poor Bella," said he, "to think of your +taking all this trouble about such a thing!" He stopped to kiss her +very tenderly, and she shone with joy and innocent pride. "And I never +thought of this! You astonish me, Bella." + +"Ay," said she, in high spirits now; "and, what is more, I have +astonished Mr. Moss. He said, 'I wish I had your head-piece, my lady.' +I could have told him Love sharpens a woman's wits; but I reserved that +little adage for you." + +"It's all mighty fine, fair lady, but you have told me a fib. You said +it was to be all for yourself, and got a hundred pounds out of me." + +"And so it was for myself, you silly thing. Are you not myself? and the +part of myself I love the best?" And her supple wrist was round his +neck in a moment. + +They rode home together, like lovers, and comforted each other. + + + +Richard Bassett, with Wheeler's assistance, had borrowed money on +Highmore to buy "Splatchett's"; he now borrowed money on +"Splatchett's," and bought Dean's Wood--a wood, with patches of grass, +that lay on the east of Sir Charles's boundary. He gave seventeen +hundred pounds for it, and sold two thousand pounds' worth of timber +off it the first year. This sounds incredible; but, owing to the custom +of felling only ripe trees, landed proprietors had no sure clew to the +value of all the timber on an acre. Richard Bassett had found this out, +and bought Dean's Wood upon the above terms--_i.e.,_ the vender gave +him the soil and three hundred pounds gratis. He grubbed the roots and +sold them for fuel, and planted larches to catch the overflow of Sir +Charles's game. The grass grew beautifully, now the trees were down, +and he let it for pasture. + +He then, still under Wheeler's advice, came out into the world again, +improved his dress, and called on several county families, with a view +to marrying money. + +Now in the country they do not despise a poor gentleman of good +lineage, and Bassett was one of the oldest names in the county; so +every door was open to him; and, indeed, his late hermit life had +stimulated some curiosity. This he soon turned to sympathy, by telling +them that he was proud but poor. Robbed of the vast estates that +belonged to him by birth, he had been unwilling to take a lower +position. However, Heaven had prospered him; the wrongful heir was +childless; he was the heir at law, and felt he owed it to the estate, +which must return to his line, to assume a little more public +importance than he had done. + +Wherever he was received he was sure to enlarge upon his wrongs; and he +was believed; for he was notoriously the direct heir to Bassett and +Huntercombe, but the family arrangement by which his father had been +bought out was known only to a few. He readily obtained sympathy, and +many persons were disgusted at Sir Charles's illiberality in not making +him some compensation. To use the homely expression of Govett, a small +proprietor, the baronet might as well have given him back one pig out +of his own farrow--_i.e.,_ one of the many farms comprised in that +large estate. + +Sir Charles learned that Richard was undermining him in the county, but +was too proud to interfere; he told Lady Bassett he should say nothing +until some _gentleman_ should indorse Mr. Bassett's falsehoods. + +One day Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were invited to dine and sleep at +Mr. Hardwicke's, distance fifteen miles; they went, and found Richard +Bassett dining there, by Mrs. Hardwicke's invitation, who was one of +those ninnies that fling guests together with no discrimination. + +Richard had expected this to happen sooner or later, so he was +comparatively prepared, and bowed stiffly to Sir Charles. Sir Charles +stared at him in return. This was observed. People were uncomfortable, +especially Mrs. Hardwicke, whose thoughtlessness was to blame for it +all. + +At a very early hour Sir Charles ordered his carriage, and drove home, +instead of staying all night. + +Mrs. Hardwicke, being a fool, must make a little more mischief. She +blubbered to her husband, and he wrote Sir Charles a remonstrance. + +Sir Charles replied that he was the only person aggrieved; Mr. +Hardwicke ought not to have invited a blackguard to meet _him._ + +Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a Bassett called a +blackguard before, and had seen nothing in Mr. Bassett to justify an +epithet so unusual among gentlemen. "And, to be frank with you, Sir +Charles," said he, "I think this bitterness against a poor gentleman, +whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is not consistent +with your general character, and is, indeed, unworthy of you." + +To this Sir Charles Bassett replied: + + + +"DEAR MR. HARDWICK--You have applied some remarks to me which I will +endeavor to forget, as they were written in entire ignorance of the +truth. But if we are to remain friends, I expect you to believe me when +I tell you that Mr. Richard Bassett has never been wronged by me or +mine, but has wronged me and Lady Bassett deeply. He is a dishonorable +scoundrel, not entitled to be received in society; and if, after this +assurance, you receive him, I shall never darken your doors again. So +please let me know your decision. + +"I remain + +"Yours truly, + +"CHARLES DYKE BASSETT." + + + +Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this; but Prudence stepped in. He was one of +the county members, and Sir Charles could command three hundred votes. + +He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles's letter with pain, +but, of course, he could not disbelieve him, and therefore he should +invite Mr. Bassett no more till the matter was cleared. + +But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled at his own +meanness; so he sent Sir Charles's letter to Mr. Richard Bassett. + +Bassett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, raving with insults, +to Sir Charles. + +He was in the act of directing it when Wheeler called on him. Bassett +showed him Sir Charles's letter. Wheeler read it. + +"Now read what I say to him in reply." + +Wheeler read Bassett's letter, threw it into the fire, and kept it +there with the poker. + +"Lucky I called," said he, dryly. "Saved you a thousand pounds or so. +You must not write a letter without me." + +"What, am I to sit still and be insulted? You're a pretty friend." + +"I am a wise friend. This is a more serious matter than you seem to +think." + +"Libel?" + +"Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted _me,_ I could not have +dictated a better letter. It closes every chink a defendant in libel +can creep out by. Now take your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke." + + + +"DEAR SIR--I have received your letter, containing a libel written by +Sir Charles Bassett. My reply will be public. + +"Yours very truly, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +"Is that all?" + +"Every syllable. Now mind; you never go to Hardwicke House again; Sir +Charles has got you banished from that house; special damage! There +never was a prettier case for a jury--the rightful heir foully +slandered by the possessor of his hereditary estates." + +This picture excited Bassett, and he walked about raving with malice, +and longing for the time when he should stand in the witness-box and +denounce his enemy. + +"No, no," said Wheeler, "leave that to counsel; you must play the mild +victim in the witness-box. Who is the defendant solicitor? We ought to +serve the writ on him at once." + +"No, no; serve it on himself." + +"What for? Much better proceed like gentlemen." + +Bassett got in a passion at being contradicted in everything. "I tell +you," said he, "the more I can irritate and exasperate this villain the +better. Besides, he slandered me behind my back; and I'll have the writ +served upon himself. I'll do everything I can to take him down. If a +man wants to be my lawyer he must enter into my feelings a little." + +Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever now, consented somewhat +reluctantly, and called at Huntercombe Hall next day with the writ, and +sent in his card. + +Lady Bassett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. Bassett's friend. + +The butler said he thought it was. + +Lady Bassett went to Sir Charles in his study. "Oh, my dear," said she, +"here is Mr. Bassett's lawyer." + +"Well?" + +"Why does he come here?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't see him." + +"Why not?" + +"I am so afraid of Mr. Bassett. He is our evil genius. Let me see this +person instead of you. _May_ I?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Might I see him _first,_ love?" + +"You will not see him at all." + +"Charles!" + +"No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to my wife." + +"But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You know, Charles, I +don't often presume to meddle; but I am in torture about this man. If +you receive him, may I be with you? Then we shall be two to one." + +"No, no," said Sir Charles, testily. Then, seeing her beautiful eyes +fill at the refusal and the unusual tone, he relented. "You may be in +hearing if you like. Open that door, and sit in the little room." + +"Oh, thank you!" + +She stepped into the room--a very small sitting-room. She had never +been in it before, and while she was examining it, and thinking how she +could improve its appearance, Mr. Wheeler was shown into the study. Sir +Charles received him standing, to intimate that the interview must be +brief. This, and the time he had been kept waiting in the hall, roused +Wheeler's bile, and he entered on his subject more bruskly than he had +intended. + +"Sir Charles Bassett, you wrote a letter to Mr. Hardwicke, reflecting +on my client, Mr. Bassett--a most unjustifiable letter." + +"Keep your opinion to yourself, sir. I wrote a letter, calling him what +he is." + +"No, sir; that letter is a libel." + +"It is the truth." + +"It is a malicious libel, sir; and we shall punish you for it. I hereby +serve you with this copy of a writ. Damages, five thousand pounds." + +A sigh from the next room passed unnoticed by the men, for their voices +were now raised in anger. + +"And so that is what you came here for. Why did you not go to my +solicitor? You must be as great a blackguard as your client, to serve +your paltry writs on me in my own house." + +"Not blackguard enough to insult a gentleman in my own house. If you +had been civil I might have accommodated matters; but now I'll make you +smart--ugh!" + +Nothing provokes a high-spirited man more than a menace. Sir Charles, +threatened in his wife's hearing, shot out his right arm with +surprising force and rapidity, and knocked Wheeler down in a moment. + +In came Lady Bassett, with a scream, and saw the attorney lying doubled +up, and Sir Charles standing over him, blowing like a grampus with rage +and excitement. + +But the next moment be staggered and gasped, and she had to support him +to a seat. She rang the bell for aid, then kneeled, and took his +throbbing temples to her wifely bosom. + +Wheeler picked himself up, and, seated on his hams, eyed the pair with +concentrated fury. + +"Aha! You have hurt yourself more than me. Two suits against you now +instead of one." + +"Conduct this person from the house," said Lady Bassett to a servant +who entered at that moment. + +"All right, my lady," said Wheeler; "I'll remind you of that word when +this house belongs to us." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +WITH this bitter reply Wheeler retired precipitately; the shaft pierced +but one bosom; for the devoted wife, with the swift ingenuity of +woman's love, had put both her hands right over her husband's ears that +he might hear no more insults. + +Sir Charles very nearly had a fit; but his wife loosened his neckcloth, +caressed his throbbing head, and applied eau-de-Cologne to his +nostrils. He got better, but felt dizzy for about an hour. She made him +come into her room and lie down; she hung over him, curling as a vine +and light as a bird, and her kisses lit softly as down upon his eyes, +and her words of love and pity murmured music in his ears till he +slept, and that danger passed. + +For a day or two after this both Sir Charles and Lady Bassett avoided +the unpleasant subject. But it had to be faced; so Mr. Oldfield was +summoned to Huntercombe, and all engagements given up for the day, that +he might dine alone with them and talk the matter over. + +Sir Charles thought he could justify; but when it came to the point he +could only prove that Richard had done several ungentleman-like things +of a nature a stout jury would consider trifles. + +Mr. Oldfield said of course they must enter an appearance; and, this +done, the wisest course would be to let him see Wheeler, and try to +compromise the suit. "It will cost you a thousand pounds, Sir Charles, +I dare say; but if it teaches you never to write of an enemy or to an +enemy without showing your lawyer the letter first, the lesson will be +cheap. Somebody in the Bible says, 'Oh, that mine enemy would write a +book!' I say, 'Oh, that he would write a letter--without consulting his +solicitor." + +It was Lady Bassett's cue now to make light of troubles. "What does it +matter, Mr. Oldfield? All they want is money. Yes, offer them a +thousand pounds to leave him in peace." + +So next day Mr. Oldfield called on Wheeler, all smiles and civility, +and asked him if he did not think it a pity cousins should quarrel +before the whole county. + +"A great pity," said Wheeler. "But my client has no alternative. No +gentleman in the county would speak to him if he sat quiet under such +contumely." + +After beating about the bush the usual time, Oldfield said that Sir +Charles was hungry for litigation, but that Lady Bassett was averse to +it. "In short, Mr. Wheeler, I will try and get Mr. Bassett a thousand +pounds to forego this scandal." + +"I will consult him, and let you know," said Wheeler. "He happens to be +in the town." + +Oldfield called again in an hour. Wheeler told him a thousand pounds +would be accepted, with a written apology. + +Oldfield shook his head. "Sir Charles will never write an apology: +right or wrong, he is too sincere in his conviction." + +"He will never get a jury to share it." + +"You must not be too sure of that. You don't know the defense." + +Oldfield said this with a gravity which did him credit. + +"Do you know it yourself?" said the other keen hand. + +Mr. Oldfield smiled haughtily, but said nothing. Wheeler had hit the +mark. + +"By the by," said the latter, "there is another little matter. Sir +Charles assaulted me for doing my duty to my client. I mean to sue him. +Here is the writ; will you accept service?" + +"Oh, certainly, Mr. Wheeler and I am glad to find you do not make a +habit of serving writs on gentlemen in person." + +"Of course not. I did it on a single occasion, contrary to my own wish, +and went in person--to soften the blow--instead of sending my clerk." + +After this little spar, the two artists in law bade each other farewell +with every demonstration of civility. + +Sir Charles would not apologize. + +The plaintiff filed his declaration. + +The defendant pleaded not guilty, but did not disclose a defense. The +law allows a defendant in libel this advantage. + +Plaintiff joined issue, and the trial was set down for the next +assizes. + +Sir Charles was irritated, but nothing more. Lady Bassett, with a +woman's natural shrinking from publicity, felt it more deeply. She +would have given thousands of her own money to keep the matter out of +court. But her very terror of Richard Bassett restrained her. She was +always thinking about him, and had convinced herself he was the ablest +villain in the wide world; and she thought to herself, "If, with his +small means, he annoys Charles so, what would he do if I were to enrich +him? He would crush us." + +As the trial drew near she began to hover about Sir Charles in his +study, like an anxious hen. The maternal yearnings were awakened in her +by marriage, and she had no child; so her Charles in trouble was +husband and child. + +Sometimes she would come in and just kiss his forehead, and run out +again, casting back a celestial look of love at the door, and, though +it was her husband she had kissed, she blushed divinely. At last one +day she crept in and said, very timidly, "Charles dear, the anonymous +letter--is not that an excuse for libeling him--as they call telling +the truth?" + +"Why, of course it is. Have you got it?" + +"Dearest, the brave lady took it away." + +"The brave lady! Who is that?" + +"Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield and pleaded your cause with +papa--oh, so eloquently! Sometimes when I think of it now I feel almost +jealous. Who is she?" + +"From what you have always told me, I think it was the Sister of +Charity who nursed me." + +"You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that was only put on. +Charles, tell me the truth. What does it matter _now?_ It was some lady +who loved you." + +"Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to you?" + +"Women's love is so disinterested--sometimes." + +"No, no; she told me she was a sister of--, and no doubt that is the +truth." + +"A sister of whom?" + +"No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, on +second thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be better +not to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again." + +Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would try +to get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Bassett wrote it. + +"I see no harm in that," said Sir Charles; "only confine your +communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writing +to a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less I +understand it." + +"There are people who do good by stealth," suggested Bella timidly. + +"Fiddledeedee!" replied Sir Charles; "you are a goose--I mean an +angel." + +Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded the +spirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity. + + + +"DEAR MR. OLDFIELD--You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charles +will soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by some +great orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base, +and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dear +husband, in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The +brave lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wish +I dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but I must not, I +suppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor us +with a word of advice as well as the letter. + +"I remain, yours faithfully, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did what +was expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Bassett's letter, +and some lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty in +a more businesslike way. + +In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country, +hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she would +sent up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she had +kept it at all. + +Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly, +urging expedition. + +This produced an effect that he had not anticipated. + +One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about +five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she must +ride to cover. + +"Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We +shall soon have publicity enough." + +"That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of, +and you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion." + +"I obey," said Bella. + +"And look your best." + +"I will, dearest." + +"And be in good spirits." + +"Must I?" + +"Yes." + +"I will try. Oh!--oh!--oh!" + +"Why, you poor-spirited little goose! Dry your eyes this moment." + +"There. Oh!" + +"And kiss me." + +"There. Ah! kissing you is a great comfort." + +"It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now run away and put on +your habit. I'll have two grooms out; one with a fresh horse for me, +and one to look after you." + +"Oh, Charles! Pray don't make me hunt." + +"No, no. Not so tyrannical as that; hang it all!" + +"Do you know what I do while you are hunting? I pray all the time that +you may not get a fall and be hurt; and I pray God to forgive you and +all the gentlemen for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogs +after one poor little inoffensive thing, to hunt it and kill it--kill +it twice, indeed; once with terror, and then over again with mangling +its poor little body." + +"This is cheerful," said Sir Charles, rather ruefully. "We cannot all +be angels, like you. It is a glorious excitement. There! you are too +good for this world; I'll let you off going." + +"Oh no, dear. I won't be let off, now I know your wish. Only I beg to +ride home as soon as the poor thing runs away. You wouldn't get me out +of the thick covers if I were a fox. I'd run round and round, and call +on all my acquaintances to set them running." + +As she said this her eyes turned toward each other in a peculiar way, +and she looked extremely foxy; but the look melted away directly. + +The hounds met, and Lady Bassett, who was still the beauty of the +county, was surrounded by riders at first; but as the hounds began to +work, and every now and then a young hound uttered a note, they +cantered about, and took up different posts, as experience suggested. + +At last a fox was found at the other end of the cover, and away +galloped the hunters in that direction, all but four persons, Lady +Bassett, and her groom, who kept respectfully aloof, and a lady and +gentleman who had reined their horses up on a rising ground about a +furlong distant. + +Lady Bassett, thus left alone, happened to look round, and saw the lady +level an opera-glass toward her and look through it. + +As a result of this inspection the lady cantered toward her. She was on +a chestnut gelding of great height and bone, and rode him as if they +were one, so smoothly did she move in concert with his easy, +magnificent strides. + +When she came near Lady Bassett she made a little sweep and drew up +beside her on the grass. + +There was no mistaking that tall figure and commanding face. It was the +brave lady. Her eyes sparkled; her cheek was slightly colored with +excitement; she looked healthier and handsomer than ever, and also more +feminine, for a reason the sagacious reader may perhaps discern if he +attends to the dialogue. + +_"So,"_ said she, without bowing or any other ceremony, "that little +rascal is troubling you again." + +Lady Bassett colored and panted, and looked lovingly at her, before she +could speak. At last she said, "Yes; and you have come to help us +again." + +"Well, the lawyer said there was no time to lose; so I have brought you +the anonymous letter." + +"Oh, thank you, madam, thank you." + +"But I'm afraid it will be of no use unless you can prove Mr. Bassett +wrote it. It is in a disguised hand." + +"But you found him out by means of another letter." + +"Yes; but I can't give you that other letter to have it read in a court +of law, because--Do you see that gentleman there?" + +"Yes." + +"That is Marsh." + +"Oh, is it?" + +"He is a fool; but I am going to marry him. I have been very ill since +I saw you, and poor Marsh nursed me. Talk of women nurses! If ever you +are ill in earnest, as I was, write to me, and I'll send you Marsh. Oh, +I have no words to tell you his patience, his forbearance, his +watchfulness, his tenderness to a sick woman. It is no use--I must +marry him; and I could have no letter published that would give him +pain." + +"Of course not. Oh, madam, do you think I am capable of doing anything +that would give you pain, or dear Mr. Marsh either?" + +"No, no; you are a good woman." + +"Not half so good as you are." + +"You don't know what you are saying." + +"Oh yes, I do." + +"Then I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good-by, Lady Bassett." + +"Must you leave me so soon? Will you not visit us? May I not know the +name of so good a friend?" + +"Next week I shall be _Mrs. Marsh."_ + +"And you will give me the great pleasure of having you at my house--you +and your husband?" + +The lady showed some agitation at this--an unusual thing for her. She +faltered: "Some day, perhaps, if I make him as good a wife as I hope +to. What a lady you are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; but +you are a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of myself; and they +are all coming this way, by the dogs' music." + +"Won't you kiss me, after bringing me this?" + +"Kiss you?" and she opened her eyes. + +"If you please," said Lady Bassett, bending toward her, with eyes full +of gratitude and tenderness. + +Then the other woman took her by the shoulders, and plunged her great +gray orbs into Bella's. + +They kissed each other. + +At that contact the stranger seemed to change her character all in a +moment. She strained Bella to her bosom and kissed her passionately, +and sobbed out, wildly, "O God! you are good to sinners. This is the +happiest hour of my life--it is a forerunner. Bless you, sweet dove of +innocence! You will be none the worse, and I am all the better--Ah! +Sir Charles. Not one word about me to him." + +And with these words, uttered with sudden energy, she spurred her great +horse, leaped the ditch, and burst through the dead hedge into the +wood, and winded out of sight among the trees. + +Sir Charles came up astonished. "Why, who was that?" + +Bella's eyes began to rove, as I have before described; but she replied +pretty promptly, "The brave lady herself; she brought me the anonymous +letter for your defense." + +"Why, how came she to know about it?" + +"She did not tell me that. She was in a great hurry. Her fiance was +waiting for her." + +"Was it necessary to kiss her in the hunting-field?" said Sir Charles, +with something very like a frown. + +"I'd kiss the whole field, grooms and all, if they did you a great +service, as that dear lady has," said Bella. The words were brave, but +the accent piteous. + +"You are excited, Bella. You had better ride home," said Sir Charles, +gently enough, but moodily. + +"Thank you, Charles," said Bella, glad to escape further examination +about this mysterious lady. She rode home accordingly. There she found +Mr. Oldfield, and showed him the anonymous letter. + +He read it, and said it was a defense, but a disagreeable one. "Suppose +he says he wrote it, and the facts were true?" + +"But I don't think he will confess it. He is not a gentleman. He is +very untruthful. Can we not make this a trap to catch him, sir? _He_ +has no scruples." + +Oldfield looked at her in some surprise at her depth. + +"We must get hold of his handwriting," said he. "We must ransack the +local banks; find his correspondents." + +"Leave all that to me," said Lady Bassett, in a low voice. + + Mr. Oldfield thought he might as well please a beautiful and loving +woman, if he could; so he gave her something to do for her husband. +"Very well; collect all the materials of comparison you can--letters, +receipts, etc. Meantime I will retain the two principal experts in +London, and we will submit your materials to them the night before the +trial." + +Lady Bassett, thus instructed, drove to all the banks, but found no +clerk acquainted with Mr. Bassett's handwriting. He did not bank with +anybody in the county. + +She called on several persons she thought likely to possess letters or +other writings of Richard Bassett. Not a scrap. + +Then she began to fear. The case looked desperate. + +Then she began to think. And she thought very hard indeed, especially +at night. + +In the dead of night she had an idea. She got up, and stole from her +husband's side, and studied the anonymous letter. + +Next day she sat down with the anonymous letter on her desk, and +blushed, and trembled, and looked about like some wild animal scared. +She selected from the anonymous letter several words--"character, +abused, Sir, Charles, Bassett, lady, abandoned, friend, whether, ten, +slanderer" etc.--and wrote them on a slip of paper. Then she locked up +the anonymous letter. Then she locked the door. Then she sat down to a +sheet of paper, and, after some more wild and furtive glances all +around, she gave her whole mind to writing a letter. + +And to whom did she write, think you? + +To Richard Bassett. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +"MR. BASSETT--I am sure both yourself and my husband will suffer in +public estimation, unless some friend comes between you, and this +unhappy lawsuit is given up. + +"Do not think me blind nor presumptuous; Sir Charles, when he wrote +that letter, had reason to believe you had done him a deep injury by +unfair means. Many will share that opinion if this cause is tried. You +are his cousin, and his heir at law. I dread to see an unhappy feud +inflamed by a public trial. Is there no personal sacrifice by which I +can compensate the affront you have received, without compromising Sir +Charles Bassett's veracity, who is the soul of honor? + +"I am, yours obediently, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +She posted this letter, and Richard Bassett had no sooner received it +than he mounted his horse and rode to Wheeler's with it. + +That worthy's eyes sparkled. "Capital!" said he. "We must draw her on, +and write an answer that will read well in court." + +He concocted an epistle just the opposite of what Richard Bassett, left +to himself, would have written. Bassett copied, and sent it as his own. + + + +"LADY BASSETT--I thank you for writing to me at this moment, when I am +weighed down by slander. Your own character stands so high that you +would not deign to write to me if you believed the abuse that has been +lavished on me. With you I deplore this family feud. It is not of my +seeking; and as for this lawsuit, it is one in which the plaintiff is +really the defendant. Sir Charles has written a defamatory letter, +which has closed every house in this county to his victim. If, as I now +feel sure, you disapprove the libel, pray persuade him to retract it. +The rest our lawyers can settle, + +"Yours very respectfully, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +When Lady Bassett read this, she saw she had an adroit opponent. Yet +she wrote again: + + + +"MR. BASSETT--There are limits to my influence with Sir Charles. I have +no power to make him say one word against his convictions. + +"But my lawyer tells me you seek pecuniary compensation for an affront. +I offer you, out of my own means, which are ample, that which you +seek--offer it freely and heartily; and I honestly think you had better +receive it from me than expose yourself to the risks and mortifications +of a public trial. + +"I am, yours obediently, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +"LADY BASSETT--You have fallen into a very natural error. It is true I +sue Sir Charles Bassett for money; but that is only because the law +allows me my remedy in no other form. What really brings me into court +is the defense of my injured honor. How do you meet me? You say, +virtually, 'Never mind your character: here is money.' Permit me to +decline it on such terms. + +"A public insult cannot be cured in private. + +"Strong in my innocence, and my wrongs, I court what you call the risks +of a public trial. + +"Whatever the result, _you_ have played the honorable and womanly part +of peacemaker; and it is unfortunate for your husband that your gentle +influence is limited by his vanity, which perseveres in a cruel +slander, instead of retracting it while there is yet time. + +"I am, madam, yours obediently, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +"MR. BASSETT--I retire from a correspondence which appears to be +useless, and might, if prolonged, draw some bitter remark from me, as +it has from you. + +"After the trial, which you court and I deprecate, you will perhaps +review my letters with a more friendly eye. + +"I am, yours obediently, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +In this fencing-match between a lawyer and a lady each gained an +advantage. The lawyer's letters, as might have been expected, were the +best adapted to be read to a jury; but the lady, subtler in her way, +obtained, at a small sacrifice, what she wanted, and that without +raising the slightest suspicion of her true motive in the +correspondence. + +She announced her success to Mr. Oldfield; but, in the midst of it, she +quaked with terror at the thought of what Sir Charles would say to her +for writing to Mr. Bassett at all. + +She now, with the changeableness of her sex, hoped and prayed Mr. +Bassett would admit the anonymous letter, and so all her subtlety and +pains prove superfluous. + +Quaking secretly, but with a lovely face and serene front, she took her +place at the assizes, before the judge, and got as near him as she +could. + +The court was crowded, and many ladies present. + +_Bassett v. Bassett_ was called in a loud voice; there was a hum of +excitement, then a silence of expectation, and the plaintiff's counsel +rose to address the jury. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +"MAY it please your Lordship: Gentlemen of the Jury--The plaintiff in +this case is Richard Bassett, Esquire, the direct and lineal +representative of that old and honorable family, whose monuments are to +be seen in several churches in this county, and whose estates are the +largest, I believe, in the county. He would have succeeded, as a matter +of course, to those estates, but for an arrangement made only a year +before he was born, by which, contrary to nature and justice, he was +denuded of those estates, and they passed to the defendant. The +defendant is nowise to blame for that piece of injustice; but he +profits by it, and it might be expected that his good fortune would +soften his heart toward his unfortunate relative. I say that if +uncommon tenderness might be expected to be shown by anybody to this +deserving and unfortunate gentleman, it would be by Sir Charles +Bassett, who enjoys his cousin's ancestral estates, and can so well +appreciate what that cousin has lost by no fault of his own." + +"Hear! hear!" + +"Silence in the court!" + +_The Judge._--I must request that there may be no manifestation of +feeling. + +_Counsel._--I will endeavor to provoke none, my lord. It is a very +simple case, and I shall not occupy you long. Well, gentlemen, Mr. +Bassett is a poor man, by no fault of his; but if he is poor, he is +proud and honorable. He has met the frowns of fortune like a +gentleman--like a man. He has not solicited government for a place. He +has not whined nor lamented. He has dignified unmerited poverty by +prudence and self-denial; and, unable to forget that he is a Bassett, +he has put by a little money every year, and bought a small estate or +two, and had even applied to the Lord-Lieutenant to make him a justice +of the peace, when a most severe and unexpected blow fell upon him. +Among those large proprietors who respected him in spite of his humbler +circumstances was Mr. Hardwicke, one of the county members. Well, +gentlemen, on the 21st of last May Mr. Bassett received a letter from +Mr. Hardwicke inclosing one purporting to be from Sir Charles Bassett-- + +_The Judge._--Does Sir Charles Bassett admit the letter? + +_Defendant's Counsel_ (after a word with Oldfield).--Yes, my lord. + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--A letter admitted to be written by Sir Charles +Bassett. That letter shall be read to you. + +The letter was then read. + +The counsel resumed: "Conceive, if you can, the effect of this blow, +just as my unhappy and most deserving client was rising a little in the +world. I shall prove that it excluded him from Mr. Hardwicke's house, +and other houses too. He is a man of too much importance to risk +affronts. He has never entered the door of any gentleman in this county +since his powerful relative published this cruel libel. He has drawn +his Spartan cloak around him, and he awaits your verdict to resume that +place among you which is due to him in every way--due to him as the +heir in direct line to the wealth, and, above all, to the honor of the +Bassetts; due to him as Sir Charles Bassett's heir at law; and due to +him on account of the decency and fortitude with which he has borne +adversity, and with which he now repels foul-mouthed slander." + +"Hear! hear!" + +"Silence in the court!" + +"I have done, gentlemen, for the present. Indeed, eloquence, even if I +possessed it, would be superfluous; the facts speak for +themselves.--Call James Hardwicke, Esq." + +Mr. Hardwicke proved the receipt of the letter from Sir Charles, and +that he had sent it to Mr. Bassett; and that Mr. Bassett had not +entered his house since then, nor had he invited him. + +Mr. Bassett was then called, and, being duly trained by Wheeler, +abstained from all heat, and wore an air of dignified dejection. His +counsel examined him, and his replies bore out the opening statement. +Everybody thought him sure of a verdict. + +He was then cross-examined. Defendant's counsel pressed him about his +unfair way of shooting. The judge interfered, and said that was +trifling. If there was no substantial defense, why not settle the +matter? + +"There is a defense, my lord." + +"Then it is time you disclosed it." + +"Very well, my lord. Mr. Bassett, did you ever write an anonymous +letter?" + +"Not that I remember." + +"Oh, that appears to you a trifle. It is not so considered." + +_The Judge._--Be more particular in your question. + +"I will, my lord.--Did you ever write an anonymous letter, to make +mischief between Sir Charles and Lady Bassett?" + +"Never," said the witness; but he turned pale. + +"Do you mean to say you did not write this letter to Miss Bruce? Look +at the letter, Mr. Bassett, before you reply." + +Bassett cast one swift glance of agony at Wheeler; then braced himself +like iron. He examined the letter attentively, turned it over, lived an +age, and said it was not his writing. + +"Do you swear that?" + +"Certainly." + +_Defendant's Counsel._--I shall ask your lordship to take down that +reply. If persisted in, my client will indict the witness for perjury. + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--Don't threaten the witness as well as insult +him, please. + +_The Judge._--He is an educated man, and knows the duty he owes to God +and the defendant.--Take time, Mr. Bassett, and recollect. Did you +write that letter?" + +"No, my lord." + +Counsel waited for the judge to note the reply, then proceeded. + +"You have lately corresponded with Lady Bassett, I think?" + +"Yes. Her ladyship opened a correspondence with me." + +"It is a lie!" roared Sir Charles Bassett from the door of the grand +jury room. + +"Silence in the court!" + +_The Judge._--Who made that unseemly remark? + +_Sir Charles._--I did, my lord. My wife never corresponded with the +cur. + +_The Plaintiff._--It is only one insult more, gentlemen, and as false +as the rest. Permit me, my lord. My own counsel would never have put +the question. I would not, for the world, give Lady Bassett pain; but +Sir Charles and his counsel have extorted the truth from me. Her +ladyship did open a correspondence with me, and a friendly one. + +_The Plaintiff's Counsel._--Will your lordship ask whether that was +after the defendant had written the libel? + +The question was put, and answered in the affirmative. + +Lady Bassett hid her face in her hands. Sir Charles saw the movement, +and groaned aloud. + +_The Judge._--I beg the case may not be encumbered with irrelevant +matter. + +Counsel replied that the correspondence would be made evidence in the +case. _(To the witness.)_--"You wrote this letter to Lady Bassett?" + +"Yes." + +"And every word in it?" + +"And every word in it," faltered Bassett, now ashy pale, for he began +to see the trap. + +"Then you wrote this word 'character,' and this word 'injured,' and +this word--" + +_The Judge_ (peevishly).--He tells you he wrote every word in those +letters to Lady Bassett.--What more would you have? + +_Counsel._--If your lordship will be good enough to examine the +correspondence, and compare those words in it I have underlined with +the same words in the anonymous letter, you will perhaps find I know my +business better than you seem to think. (The counsel who ventured on +this remonstrance was a sergeant.) + +"Brother Eitherside," said the judge, with a charming manner, "you +satisfied me of that, to my cost, long ago, whenever I had you against +me in a case. Please hand me the letters." + +While the judge was making a keen comparison, counsel continued the +cross-examination. + +"You are aware that this letter caused a separation between Sir Charles +Bassett and the lady he was engaged to?" + +"I know nothing about it." + +"Indeed! Well, were you acquainted with the Miss Somerset mentioned in +this letter?" + +"Slightly." + +"You have been at her house?" + +"Once or twice." + +"Which? Twice is double as often as once, you know." + +"Twice." + +"No more?" + +"Not that I recollect." + +"You wrote to her?" + +"I may have." + +"Did you, or did you not?" + +"I did." + +"What was the purport of that letter?" + +"I can't recollect at this distance of time." + +"On your oath, sir, did you not write urging her to co-operate with you +to keep Sir Charles Bassett from marrying his affianced, Miss Bella +Bruce, to whom that anonymous letter was written with the same object?" + +The perspiration now rolled in visible drops down the tortured liar's +face. Yet still, by a gigantic effort, he stood firm, and even planted +a blow. + +"I did not write the anonymous letter. But I believe I told Miss +Somerset I loved Miss Bruce, and that _her_ lover was robbing me of +mine, as he had robbed me of everything else." + +"And that was all you said--on your oath?" + +"All I can recollect." With this the strong man, cowed, terrified, +expecting his letter to Somerset to be produced, and so the iron chain +of evidence completed, gasped out, "Man, you tear open all my wounds at +once!" and with this burst out sobbing, and lamenting aloud that he had +ever been born. + +Counsel waited calmly till he should be in a condition to receive +another dose. + +"Oh, will nobody stop this cruel trial?" said Lady Bassett, with the +tears trickling down her face. + +The judge heard this remark without seeming to do so. + +He said to defendant's counsel, "Whatever the truth may be, you have +proved enough to show Sir Charles Bassett might well have an honest +conviction that Mr. Bassett had done a dastardly act. Whether a jury +would ever agree on a question of handwriting must always be doubtful. +Looking at the relationship of the parties, is it advisable to carry +this matter further? If I might advise the gentlemen, they would each +consent to withdraw a juror." + +Upon this suggestion the counsel for both parties put their heads +together in animated whispers; and during this the judge made a remark +to the jury, intended for the public: "Since Lady Bassett's name has +been drawn into this, I must say that I have read her letters to Mr. +Bassett, and they are such as she could write without in the least +compromising her husband. Indeed, now the defense is disclosed, they +appear to me to be wise and kindly letters, such as only a good wife, a +high-bred lady, and a true Christian could write in so delicate a +matter." + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--My lord, we are agreed to withdraw a juror. + +_Defendant's Counsel._--Out of respect for your lordship's advice, and +not from any doubt of the result on _our_ part. + +_The Crier._--WACE _v._ HALIBURTON! + +And so the car of justice rolled on till it came to Wheeler v. Bassett. + +This case was soon disposed of. + +Sir Charles Bassett was dignified and calm in the witness-box, and +treated the whole matter with high-bred nonchalance, as one unworthy of +the attention the Court was good enough to bestow on it. The judge +disapproved the assault, but said the plaintiff had drawn it on himself +by unprofessional conduct, and by threatening a gentleman in his own +house. Verdict for the plaintiff--40s. The judge refused to certify +for costs. + +Lady Bassett, her throat parched with excitement, drove home, and +awaited her husband's return with no little anxiety. As soon as she +heard him in his dressing-room she glided in and went down on her knees +to him. "Pray, pray don't scold me; I couldn't bear you to be defeated, +Charles." + +Sir Charles raised her, but did not kiss her. + +"You think only of me," said he, rather sadly. "It is a sorry victory, +too dearly bought." + +Then she began to cry. + +Sir Charles begged her not to cry; but still he did not kiss her, nor +conceal his mortification: he hardly spoke to her for several days. + +She accepted her disgrace pensively and patiently. She thought it all +over, and felt her husband was right, and loved her like a man. But she +thought, also, that she was not very wrong to love him in her way. +Wrong or not, she felt she could not sit idle and see his enemy defeat +him. + +The coolness died away by degrees, with so much humility on one side +and so much love on both: but the subject was interdicted forever. + +A week after the trial Lady Bassett wrote to Mrs. Marsh, under cover to +Mr. Oldfield, and told her how the trial had gone, and, with many +expressions of gratitude, invited her and her husband to Huntercombe +Hall. She told Sir Charles what she had done, and he wore a very +strange look. "Might I suggest that we have them alone?" said he dryly. + +"By all means," said Lady Bassett. "I don't want to share my paragon +with anybody." + +In due course a reply came; Mr. and Mrs. Marsh would avail themselves +some day of Lady Bassett's kindness: at present they were going abroad. +The letter was written by a man's hand. + +About this time Oldfield sent Sir Charles Miss Somerset's deed, +canceled, and told him she had married a man of fortune, who was +devoted to her, and preferred to take her without any dowry. + + + +Bassett and Wheeler went home, crestfallen, and dined together. They +discussed the two trials, and each blamed the other. They quarreled and +parted: and Wheeler sent in an enormous bill, extending over five +years. Eighty-five items began thus: "Attending you at your house for +several hours, on which occasion you asked my advice as to whether--" +etc. + +Now as a great many of these attendances had been really to shoot game +and dine on rabbits at Bassett's expense, he thought it hard the +conversation should be charged and the rabbits not. + +Disgusted with his defeat, and resolved to evade this bill, he +discharged his servant, and put a retired soldier into his house, armed +him with a blunderbuss, and ordered him to keep all doors closed, and +present the weapon aforesaid at all rate collectors, tax collectors, +debt collectors, and applicants for money to build churches or convert +the heathen; but not to _fire_ at anybody except his friend Wheeler, +nor at him unless he should try to shove a writ in at some chink of the +building. + +This done, he went on his travels, third-class, with his eyes always +open, and his heart full of bitterness. + +Nothing happened to Richard Bassett on his travels that I need relate +until one evening when he alighted at a small commercial inn in the +city of York, and there met a person whose influence on the events I am +about to relate seems at this moment incredible to me, though it is +simple fact. + +He found the commercial room empty, and rang the bell. In came the +waiter, a strapping girl, with coal-black eyes and brows to match, and +a brown skin, but glowing cheeks. + +They both started at sight of each other. It was Polly Somerset. + +"Why, Polly! How d'ye do? How do you come here?" + +"It's along of you I'm here, young man," said Polly, and began to +whimper. She told him her sister had found out from the page she had +been colloguing with him, and had never treated her like a sister after +that. "And when she married a gentleman she wouldn't have me aside her +for all I could say, but she did pack me off into service, and here I +be." + +The girl was handsome, and had a liking for him. Bassett was idle, and +time hung heavy on his hands: he stayed at the inn a fortnight, more +for Polly's company than anything: and at last offered to put her into +a vacant cottage on his own little estate of Highmore. But the girl was +shrewd, and had seen a great deal of life this last three years; she +liked Richard in her way, but she saw he was all self, and she would +not trust him. "Nay," said she, "I'll not break with Rhoda for any +young man in Britain. If I leave service she will never own me at all: +she is as hard as iron." + +"Well, but you might come and take service near me, and then we could +often get a word together." + +"Oh, I'm agreeable to that: you find me a good place. I like an inn +best; one sees fresh faces." + +Bassett promised to manage that for her. On reaching home he found a +conciliatory letter from Wheeler, coupled with his permission to tax +the bill according to his own notion of justice. This and other letters +were in an outhouse; the old soldier had not permitted them to +penetrate the fortress. He had entered into the spirit of his +instructions, and to him a letter was a probable hand-grenade. + +Bassett sent for Wheeler; the bill was reduced, and a small payment +made; the rest postponed till better times. Wheeler was then consulted +about Polly, and he told his client the landlady of the "Lamb" wanted a +good active waitress; he thought he could arrange that little affair. + +In due course, thanks to this artist, Mary Wells, hitherto known as +Polly Somerset, landed with her boxes at the "Lamb "; and with her +quick foot, her black eyes, and ready tongue soon added to the +popularity of the inn. Richard Bassett, Esq., for one, used to sup +there now and then with his friend Wheeler, and even sleep there after +supper. + +By-and-by the vicar of Huntercombe wanted a servant, and offered to +engage Mary Wells. + +She thought twice about that. She could neither write nor read, and +therefore was dreadfully dull without company; the bustle of an inn, +and people coming and going, amused her. However, it was a temptation +to be near Richard Bassett; so she accepted at last. Unable to write, +she could not consult him; and she made sure he would be delighted. + +But when she got into the village the prudent Mr. Bassett drew in his +horns, and avoided her. She was mortified and very angry. She revenged +herself on her employer; broke double her wages. The vicar had never +been able to convert a smasher; so he parted with her very readily to +Lady Bassett, with a hint that she was rather unfortunate in glass and +china. + +In that large house her spirits rose, and, having a hearty manner and a +clapper tongue, she became a general favorite. + +One day she met Mr. Bassett in the village, and he seemed delighted at +the sight of her, and begged her to meet him that night at a certain +place where Sir Charles's garden was divided from his own by a ha-ha. +It was a very secluded spot, shut out from view, even in daylight, by +the trees and shrubs and the winding nature of the walk that led to it; +yet it was scarcely a hundred yards from Huntercombe Hall. + +Mary Wells came to the tryst, but in no amorous mood. She came merely +to tell Mr. Bassett her mind, viz., that he was a shabby fellow, and +she had had her cry, and didn't care a straw for him now. And she did +tell him so, in a loud voice, and with a flushed cheek. + +But he set to work, humbly and patiently, to pacify her; he represented +that, in a small house like the vicarage, every thing is known; he +should have ruined her character if he had not held aloof. "But it is +different now," said he. "You can run out of Huntercombe House, and +meet me here, and nobody be the wiser." + +"Not I," said Mary Wells, with a toss. "The worse thing a girl can do +is to keep company with a gentleman. She must meet him in holes and +corners, and be flung off, like an old glove, when she has served his +turn." + +"That will never happen to you, Polly dear. We must be prudent for the +present; but I shall be more my own master some day, and then you will +see how I love you." + +"Seeing is believing," said the girl, sullenly. "You be too fond of +yourself to love the likes o' me." + +Such was the warning her natural shrewdness gave her. But perseverance +undermined it. Bassett so often threw out hints of what he would do +some day, mixed with warm protestations of love, that she began almost +to hope he would marry her. She really liked him; his fine figure and +his color pleased her eye, and he had a plausible tongue to boot. + +As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his senses; but, for +his heart, she had little place in that. What he courted her for just +now was to keep him informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall. +His morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to Mary +Wells's gossip. He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappoint +him. She never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies or +exaggerations. She was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits, +and greeted him thus: "What d'ye think? I'm riz! Mrs. Eden, that +dresses my lady's hair, she took ill yesterday, and I told the +housekeeper I was used to dress hair, and she told my lady. If you +didn't please our Rhoda at that, 'twas as much as your life was worth. +You mustn't be thinking of your young man with her hair in your hand, +or she'd rouse you with a good crack on the crown with a hair-brush. So +I dressed my lady's hair, and handled it like old chaney; by the same +token, she is so pleased with me you can't think. She is a real lady; +not like our Rhoda. Speaks as civil to me as if I was one of her own +sort; and, says she, 'I should like to have you about me, if I might.' +I had it on my tongue to tell her she was mistress; but I was a little +skeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me about her; I +see it in her eye." + +Bassett was delighted at this news, but he did not speak his mind all +at once; the time was not come. He let the gypsy rattle on, and bided +his time. He flattered her, and said he envied Lady Bassett to have +such a beautiful girl about her. "I'll let my hair grow," said he. + +"Ay, do," said she, "and then I'll pull it for you." + +This challenge ended in a little struggle for a kiss, the sincerity of +which was doubtful. Polly resisted vigorously, to be sure, but briefly, +and, having given in, returned it. + +One day she told him Sir Charles had met her plump, and had given a +great start. + +This made Bassett very uneasy. "Confound it, he will turn you away. He +will say, 'This girl knows too much.'" + +"How simple you be!" said the girl. "D'ye think I let him know? Says +he, 'I think I have seen you before.' 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'I was +housemaid here before my lady had me to dress her.' 'No,' says he, 'I +mean in London--in Mayfair, you know.' I declare you might ha' knocked +me down wi' a feather. So I looks in his face, as cool as marble, and I +said, 'No, sir; I never had the luck to see London, sir,' says I. 'All +the better for you,' says he; and he swallowed it like spring water, as +sister Rhoda used to say when she told one and they believed it." + +"You are a clever girl," said Bassett. "He would have turned you out of +the house if he had known who you were." + +She disappointed him in one thing; she was bad at answering questions. +Morally she was not quite so great an egotist as himself, but +intellectually a greater. Her volubility was all egotism. She could +scarcely say ten words, except about herself. So, when Bassett +questioned her about Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, she said "Yes," or +"No," or "I don't know," and was off at a tangent to her own sayings +and doings. + +Bassett, however, by great patience and tact, extracted from her at +last that Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were both sore at not having +children, and that Lady Bassett bore the blame. + +"That is a good joke," said he. "The smoke-dried rake! Polly, you might +do me a good turn. You have got her ear; open her eyes for me. What +might not happen?" His eyes shone fiendishly. + +The young woman shook her head. "Me meddle between man and wife! I'm +too fond of my place." + +"Ah, you don't love me as I love you. You think only of yourself." + +"And what do you think of? Do you love me well enough to find me a +better place, if you get me turned out of Huntercombe Hall?" + +"Yes, I will; a much better." + +"That is a bargain." + +Mary Wells was silly in some things, but she was very cunning, too; and +she knew Richard Bassett's hobby. She told him to mind himself, as well +as Sir Charles, or perhaps he would die a bachelor, and so his flesh +and blood would never inherit Huntercombe. This remark entered his +mind. The trial, though apparently a drawn battle, had been fatal to +him--he was cut; he dared not pay his addresses to any lady in the +county, and he often felt very lonely now. So everything combined to +draw him toward Mary Wells--her swarthy beauty, which shone out at +church like a black diamond among the other women; his own loneliness; +and the pleasure these stolen meetings gave him. Custom itself is +pleasant, and the company of this handsome chatterbox became a habit, +and an agreeable one. The young woman herself employed a woman's arts; +she was cold and loving by turns till at last he gave her what she was +working for, a downright promise of marriage. She pretended not to +believe him, and so led him further; he swore he would marry her. + +He made one stipulation, however. She really must learn to read and +write first. + +When he had sworn this Mary became more uniformly affectionate; and as +women who have been in service learn great self-government, and can +generally please so long as it serves their turn, she made herself so +agreeable to him that he began really to have a downright liking for +her--a liking bounded, of course, by his incurable selfishness; but as +for his hobby, that was on her side. + +Now learning to read and write was wormwood to Mary Wells; but the +prize was so great; she knew all about the Huntercombe estates, partly +from her sister, partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongs +even to this girl.) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, even on the +severe condition of becoming a scholar. She set about it as follows: +One day that she was doing Lady Bassett's hair she sighed several +times. This was to attract the lady's attention, and it succeeded. + +"Is there anything the matter, Mary?" + +"No, my lady." + +"I think there is." + +"Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my own people's +fault for not sending of me to school. I might be married to-morrow if +I could only read and write." + +"And can you not?" + +"No, my lady." + +"Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays." + +"La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village." + +"Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not too +late. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. Shall +I arrange for you to go to it?" + +"Thank you, my lady. But then--" + +"Well?" + +"All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me." + +"The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?" + +"Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, +either. But I won't be his wife to shame him." (Another sigh.) + +"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her heart, "you shall +not be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will try +and teach you myself." + +Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Bassett received them rather coldly. +She gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day; +and Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half an +hour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She was +quick, and learned very fast. In two months she could read a great deal +more than she could understand, and could write slowly but very +clearly. + +Now by this time Lady Bassett had become so interested in her pupil +that she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts of +the toilet when her services were not required. + +Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England. +Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She never +said one word to Bassett about Lady Bassett's lessons. She kept strict +silence till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line to +say she had learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he would +keep his promise. + +Bassett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, he +suspected it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their next +meeting, who had written that note for her. + +"You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like," was the reply. + +Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. At +present, however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taught +her. + +"I had to teach myself. Nobody cares enough for me to teach me. Well, +I'll forgive you if you will write me a nice letter for mine." + +"What! when we can meet here and say everything?" + +"No matter; I have written to you, and you might write to me. They all +get letters, except me; and the jades hold 'em up to me: they see I +never get one. When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It will +only cost you a penny. I'm sure I don't ask you for much." + +Bassett humored her in this, and in one of his letters called her his +wife that was to be. + +This pleased her so much that the next time they met she hung round his +neck with a good deal of feminine grace. + +Richard Bassett was a man who now lived in the future. Everybody in the +county believed he had written that anonymous letter, and he had no +hope of shining by his own light. It was bitter to resign his personal +hopes; but he did, and sullenly resolved to be obscure himself, but the +father of the future heirs of Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, +and lay the blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had blackened him +in the county, and put it out of his power to win a lady's hand. + +He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he had not the courage +to tell him all at once what a wife he had selected. + +The consequence of this half confession was that Wheeler went to work +to find him a girl with money, and not under county influence. + +One of Wheeler's clients was a retired citizen, living in a pretty +villa near the market town. Mr. Wright employed him in little matters, +and found him active and attentive. There was a Miss Wright, a meek +little girl, palish, on whom her father doted. Wheeler talked to this +girl of his friend Bassett, his virtues and his wrongs, and interested +the young lady in him. This done, he brought him to the house, and the +girl, being slight and delicate, gazed with gentle but undisguised +admiration on Bassett's _torso._ Wheeler had told Richard Miss Wright +was to have seven thousand pounds on her wedding-day, and that excited +a corresponding admiration in the athletic gentleman. + +After that Bassett often called by himself, and the father encouraged +the intimacy. He was old, and wished to see his daughter married before +he left her and this seemed an eligible match, though not a brilliant +one; a bit of land and a good name on one side, a smart bit of money on +the other. The thing went on wheels. Richard Bassett was engaged to +Jane Wright almost before he was aware. + +Now he felt uneasy about Mary Wells, very uneasy; but it was only the +uneasiness of selfishness. + +He began to try and prepare; he affected business visits to distant +places, etc., in order to break off by degrees. By this means their +meetings were comparatively few. When they did meet (which was now +generally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by telling her +he had encountered losses, and feared that to marry her would be a bad +job for her as well as for him, especially if she should have children. + +Mary replied she had been used to work, and would rather work for a +husband than any other master. + +On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a gentleman ever +broke his oath. + +"Never," said Richard. + +In short, she gave him no opening. She would not quarrel. She adhered +to him as she had never adhered to anything but a lie before. + +Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He coolly cut her; +never came to the trysting-place; did not answer her letters; and, +being a reckless egotist, married Jane Wright all in a hurry, by +special license. + +He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, and engaged the +ringers to ring the church-bells from six o'clock till sundown. This +was for Sir Charles's ears. + +It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was commencing her toilet +in an indolent way, with Mary Wells in attendance, when the +church-bells of Huntercombe struck up a merry peal. + +"Ah!" said Lady Bassett; "what is that for? Do you know, Mary?" + +"No, my lady. Shall I ask?" + +"No; I dare say it is a village wedding." + +"No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Our +kitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and know +what it is for." Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid she +caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to her +sweetheart, and he told her directly. + +Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells. + +"They are always sad--saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poor +things! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sad +to me--sadder than usual, somehow." + + + +The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shot +in--"'Tis for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home to +Highmore to-day." + +"Mr. Bassett--married--that is sudden. Who could he find to marry him?" +There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate the news, +and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, sick with +the sudden blow. + +Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman's +eye, but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise she +had gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the sound +of those church-bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir Charles; +but she did not lift her head, even to give this order. + +Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles's dressing-room. + +"Come in," said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it was his valet. + +Mary Wells just opened the door and held it ajar. "My lady bids me tell +you, sir, the bells are ringing for Mr. Bassett; he's married, and +brings her home tonight." + +A dead silence marked the effect of this announcement on Sir Charles. +Mary Wells waited. + + + +"May Heaven's curse light on that marriage, and no child of theirs ever +take my place in this house!" + +"A-a-men!" said Mary Wells. + +"Thank you, sir!" said Sir Charles. He took her voice for a man's, so +deep and guttural was her "A--a--men" with concentrated passion. + +She closed the door and crept back to her mistress. + +Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair down and her +shoulders bare. Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work; +but very soon Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass. +"Mary!" said she, "what _is_ the matter? You look ghastly, and your +hands are as cold as ice. Are you faint?" + +"No." + +"Then you are ill; very ill." + +"I have taken a chill," said Mary, doggedly. + +"Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spirits +and hot water--quite hot." + +Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back +hair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door. + +"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone. + +"My lady." + +"I should like to hear what the bride is like." + +"I'll know that to-night," said Mary, grinding her teeth. + +"I shall not require you again till bedtime." + +Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own +garret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry, +upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and +writhed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded. + +In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. She +got up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like a +savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot. + +She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs; +but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan. +She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some +spirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. They +sent the devil into her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek. +She had a little scarlet shawl; she put it over her head, and went into +the village. She found it astir with expectation. + +Mr. Bassett's house stood near the highway, but the entrance to the +premises was private, and through a long white gate. + +By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got on that heap and +waited. + +When she had been there about half an hour, Richard Bassett drove up in +a hired carriage, with his pale little wife beside him. At his own gate +his eye encountered Mary Wells, and he started. She stood above him, +with her arms folded grandly; her cheek, so swarthy and ruddy, was now +pale, and her black eyes glittered like basilisks at him and his bride. +The whole woman seemed lifted out of her low condition, and dignified +by wrong. + +He had to sustain her look for a few seconds, while the gate was being +opened, and it seemed an age. He felt his first pang of remorse when he +saw that swarthy, ruddy cheek so pale. Then came admiration of her +beauty, and disgust at the woman for whom he had jilted her; and that +gave way to fear: the hater looked into those glittering eyes, and saw +he had roused a hate as unrelenting as his own. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FOR the first few days Richard Bassett expected some annoyance from +Mary Wells; but none came, and he began to flatter himself she was too +fond of him to give him pain. + +This impression was shaken about ten days after the little scene I have +described. He received a short note from her, as follows: + + + +"SIR--You must meet me to-night, at the same place, eight o'clock. If +you do not come it will be the worse for you. + +"M. W." + + + +Richard Bassett's inclination was to treat this summons with contempt; +but he thought it would be wiser to go and see whether the girl had any +hostile intentions. Accordingly he went to the tryst. He waited for +some time, and at last he heard a quick, firm foot, and Mary Wells +appeared. She was hooded with her scarlet shawl, that contrasted +admirably with her coal-black hair; and out of this scarlet frame her +dark eyes glittered. She stood before him in silence. + +He said nothing. + +She was silent too for some time. But she spoke first. + +"Well, sir, you promised one, and you have married another. Now what +are you going to do for me?" + +"What _can_ I do, Mary? I'm not the first that wanted to marry for +love, but money came in his way and tempted him." + +"No, you are not the first. But that's neither here nor there, sir. +That chalk-faced girl has bought you away from me with her money, and +now I mean to have my share on't." + +"Oh, if that is all," said Richard, "we can soon settle it. I was +afraid you were going to talk about a broken heart, and all that stuff. +You are a good, sensible girl; and too beautiful to want a husband +long. I'll give you fifty pounds to forgive me." + +"Fifty pounds!" said Mary Wells, contemptuously. "What! when you +promised me I should be your wife to-day, and lady of Huntercombe Hall +by-and-by? Fifty pounds! No; not five fifties." + +"Well, I'll give you seventy-five; and if that won't do, you must go to +law, and see what you can get." + +"What, han't you had your bellyful of law? Mind, it is an unked thing +to forswear yourself, and that is what you done at the 'sizes. I have +seen what you did swear about your letter to my sister; Sir Charles +have got it all wrote down in his study: and you swore a lie to the +judge, as you swore a lie to me here under heaven, you villain!" She +raised her voice very loud. "Don't you gainsay me, or I'll soon have +you by the heels in jail for your lies. You'll do as I bid you, and +very lucky to be let off so cheap. You was to be my master, but you +chose her instead: well, then, you shall be my servant. You shall come +here every Saturday at eight o'clock, and bring me a sovereign, which I +never could keep a lump o' money, and I have had one or two from Rhoda; +so I'll take it a sovereign a week till I get a husband of my own sort, +and then you'll have to come down handsome once for all." + +Bassett knitted his brows and thought hard. His natural impulse was to +defy her; but it struck him that a great many things might happen in a +few months; so at last he said, humbly, "I consent. I have been to +blame. Only I'd rather pay you this money in some other way." + +"My way, or none." + +"Very well, then, I will bring it you as you say." + +"Mind you do, then," said Mary Wells, and turned haughtily on her heel. + +Bassett never ventured to absent himself at the hour, and, at first, +the blackmail was delivered and received with scarcely a word; but +by-and-by old habits so far revived that some little conversation took +place. + +Then, after a while, Bassett used to tell her he was unhappy, and she +used to reply she was glad of it. + +Then he began to speak slightingly of his wife, and say what a fool he +had been to marry a poor, silly nonentity, when he might have wedded a +beauty. + +Mary Wells, being intensely vain, listened with complacency to this, +although she replied coldly and harshly. + +By-and-by her natural volubility overpowered her, and she talked to +Bassett about herself and Huntercombe House, but always with a secret +reserve. + +Later--such is the force of habit--each used to look forward with +satisfaction to the Saturday meeting, although each distrusted and +feared the other at bottom. + +Later still that came to pass which Mary Wells had planned from the +first with deep malice, and that shrewd insight into human nature which +many a low woman has--the cooler she was the warmer did Richard Bassett +grow, till at last, contrasting his pale, meek little wife with this +glowing Hebe, he conceived an unholy liking for the latter. She met it +sometimes with coldness and reproaches, sometimes with affected alarm, +sometimes with a half-yielding manner, and so tormented him to her +heart's content, and undermined his affection for his wife. Thus she +revenged herself on them both to her heart's content. + +But malice so perverse is apt to recoil on itself; and women, in +particular, should not undertake a long and subtle revenge of this +sort; since the strongest have their hours of weakness, and are +surprised into things they never intended. The subsequent history of +Mary Wells will exemplify this. Meantime, however, meek little Mrs. +Bassett was no match for the beauty and low cunning of her rival. + +Yet a time came when she defended herself unconsciously. She did +something that made her husband most solicitous for her welfare and +happiness. He began to watch her health with maternal care, to shield +her from draughts, to take care of her diet, to indulge her in all her +whims instead of snubbing her, and to pet her, till she was the +happiest wife in England for a time. She deserved this at his hands, +for she assisted him there where his heart was fixed; she aided his +hobby; did more for it than any other creature in England could. + + + +To return to Huntercombe Hall: the loving couple that owned it were no +longer happy. The hope of offspring was now deserting them, and the +disappointment was cruel. They suffered deeply, with this +difference--that Lady Bassett pined and Sir Charles Bassett fretted. + +The woman's grief was more pure and profound than the man's. If there +had been no Richard Bassett in the world, still her bosom would have +yearned and pined, and the great cry of Nature, "Give me children or I +die," would have been in her heart, though it would never have risen to +her lips. + +Sir Charles had, of course, less of this profound instinct than his +wife, but he had it too; only in him the feeling was adulterated and at +the same time imbittered by one less simple and noble. An enemy sat at +his gate. That enemy, whose enduring malice had at last begotten equal +hostility in the childless baronet, was now married, and would probably +have heirs; and, if so, that hateful brood--the spawn of an anonymous +letter-writer--would surely inherit Bassett and Huntercombe, succeeding +to Sir Charles Bassett, deceased without issue. This chafed the +childless man, and gradually undermined a temper habitually sweet, +though subject, as we have seen, to violent ebullitions where the +provocation was intolerable. Sir Charles, then, smarting under his +wound, spoke now and then rather unkindly to the wife he loved so +devotedly; that is to say, his manner sometimes implied that he blamed +her for their joint calamity. + +Lady Bassett submitted to these stings in silence. They were rare, and +speedily followed by touching regrets; and even had it not been so she +would have borne them with resignation; for this motherless wife loved +her husband with all a wife's devotion and a mother's unselfish +patience. Let this be remembered to her credit. It is the truth, and +she may need it. + +Her own yearning was too deep and sad for fretfulness; yet though, +unlike her husband's, it never broke out in anger, the day was gone by +when she could keep it always silent. It welled out of her at times in +ways that were truly womanly and touching. + +When she called on a wife the lady was sure to parade her children. The +boasted tact of women--a quality the narrow compass of which has +escaped their undiscriminating eulogists--was sure to be swept away by +maternal egotism; and then poor Lady Bassett would admire the children +loudly, and kiss them, to please the cruel egotist, and hide the tears +that rose to her own eyes; but she would shorten her visit. + +When a child died in the village Mary Wells was sure to be sent with +words of comfort and substantial marks of sympathy. + +Scarcely a day passed that something or other did not happen to make +the wound bleed; but I will confine myself to two occasions, on each of +which her heart's agony spoke out, and so revealed how much it must +have endured in silence. + +Since the day when Sir Charles allowed her to sit in a little room +close to his study while he received Mr. Wheeler's visit she had fitted +up that room, and often sat there to be near Sir Charles; and he would +sometimes call her in and tell her his justice cases. One day she was +there when the constable brought in a prisoner and several witnesses. +The accused was a stout, florid girl, with plump cheeks and pale gray +eyes. She seemed all health, stupidity, and simplicity. She carried a +child on her left arm. No dweller in cities could suspect this face of +crime. As well indict a calf. + +Yet the witnesses proved beyond a doubt that she had been seen with her +baby in the neighborhood of a certain old well on a certain day at +noon; that soon after noon she had been seen on the road without her +baby, and being asked what had become of it, had said she had left it +with her aunt, ten miles off; and that about an hour after that a faint +cry had been heard at the bottom of the old well--it was ninety feet +deep; people had assembled, and a brave farmer's boy had been lowered +in the bight of a cart-rope, and had brought up a dead hen, and a live +child, bleeding at the cheek, having fallen on a heap of fagots at the +bottom of the well; which child was the prisoner's. + +Sir Charles had the evidence written down, and then told the accused +she might make a counter-statement if she chose, but it would be wiser +to say nothing at all. + +Thereupon the accused dropped him a little short courtesy, looked him +steadily in the face with her pale gray eyes, and delivered herself as +follows: + +"If you please, sir, I was a-sitting by th' old well, with baby in my +arms; and I was mortal tired, I was, wi' carring of him; he be uncommon +heavy for his age; and, if you please, sir, he is uncommon resolute; +and while I was so he give a leap right out of my arms and fell down +th' old well. I screams, and runs away to tell my brother's wife, as +lives at top of the hill; but she was gone into North Wood for dry +sticks to light her oven; and when I comes back they had got him out of +the well, and I claims him directly; and the constable said we must +come before you, sir; so here we be." + +This she delivered very glibly, without tremulousness, hesitation, or +the shadow of a blush, and dropped another little courtesy at the end +to Sir Charles. + +Thereupon he said not one word to her, but committed her for trial, and +gave the farmer's boy a sovereign. + +The people were no sooner gone than Lady Bassett came in, with the +tears streaming, and threw herself at her husband's knees. "Oh, +Charles! can such things be? Does God give a child to a woman that has +the heart to kill it, and refuse one to me, who would give my heart's +blood to save a hair of its little head? Oh, what have we done that he +singles us out to be so cruel to us?" + +Then Sir Charles tried to comfort her, but could not, and the childless +ones wept together. + + + +It began to be whispered that Mrs. Bassett was in the family way. +Neither Sir Charles nor Lady Bassett mentioned this rumor. It would +have been like rubbing vitriol into their own wounds. But this reserve +was broken through one day. It was a sunny afternoon in June, just +thirteen months after Mr. Bassett's wedding--Lady Bassett was with her +husband in his study, settling invitations for a ball, and writing +them--when the church-bells struck up a merry peal. They both left off, +and looked at each other eloquently. Lady Bassett went out, but soon +returned, looking pale and wild. + +_"Yes!"_ said she, with forced calmness. Then, suddenly losing her +self-command, she broke out, pointing through the window at Highmore, +_"He_ has got a fine boy--to take our place here. Kill me, Charles! +Send me to heaven to pray for you, and take another wife that will love +you less but be like other wives. That villain has married a fruitful +vine, and" (lifting both arms to heaven, with a gesture unspeakably +piteous, poetic, and touching) "I am a barren stock." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +OF all the fools Nature produces with the help of Society, fathers of +first-borns are about the most offensive. + +The mothers of ditto are bores too, flinging their human dumplings at +every head; but, considering the tortures they have suffered, and the +anguish the little egotistical viper they have just hatched will most +likely give them, and considering further that their love of their +firstborn is greater than their pride, and their pride unstained by +vanity, one must make allowances for them. + +But the male parent is not so excusable. His fussy vanity is an +inferior article to the mother's silly but amiable pride. His obtrusive +affection is two-thirds of it egotism, and blindish egotism, too; for +if, at the very commencement of the wife's pregnancy the husband is +sent to India, or hanged, the little angel, as they call it--Lord +forgive them!--is nurtured from a speck to a mature infant by the other +parent, and finally brought into the world by her just as effectually +as if her male confederate had been tied to her apron-string: all the +time, instead of expatriated or hanged. + +Therefore the Law--for want, I suppose, of studying Medicine--is a +little inconsiderate in giving children to fathers, and taking them by +force from such mothers _as can support them;_ and therefore let +Gallina go on clucking over her first-born, but Gallus be quiet, or +sing a little smaller. + +With these preliminary remarks, let me introduce to you a character new +in fiction, but terribly old in history-- + + THE CLUCKING COCK. + +Upon the birth of a son and heir Mr. Richard Bassett was inflated +almost to bursting. He became suddenly hospitable, collected all his +few friends about him, and showed them all the Boy at great length, and +talked Boy and little else. He went out into the world and made calls +on people merely to remind them he had a son and heir. + +His self-gratulation took a dozen forms; perhaps the most amusing, and +the richest food for satire, was the mock-querulous style, of which he +showed himself a master. + +"Don't you ever marry," said he to Wheeler and others. "Look at me; do +you think I am the master of my own house? Not I; I am a regular slave. +First, there is a monthly nurse, who orders me out of my wife's +presence, or graciously lets me in, just as she pleases; that is Queen +1. Then there's a wet-nurse, Queen 2, whom I must humor in everything, +or she will quarrel with me, and avenge herself by souring her milk. +But these are mild tyrants compared with the young King himself. If he +does but squall we must all skip, and find out what he ails, or what he +wants. As for me, I am looked upon as a necessary evil; the women seem +to admit that a father is an incumbrance without which these little +angels could not exist, but that is all." + +He had a christening feast, and it was pretty well attended, for he +reminded all he asked that the young Christian was the heir to the +Bassett estates. They feasted, and the church-bells rang merrily. + +He had his pew in the church new lined with cloth, and took his wife to +be churched. The nurse was in the pew too, with his son and heir. It +squalled and spoiled the Liturgy. Thereat Gallus chuckled. + +He made a gravel-walk all along the ha-ha that separated his garden +from Sir Charles's, and called it "The Heir's Walk." Here the nurse and +child used to parade on sunny afternoons. + +He got an army of workmen, and built a nursery fit for a duke's nine +children. It occupied two entire stories, and rose in the form of a +square tower high above the rest of his house, which, indeed, was as +humble as "The Heir's Tower" was pretentious. "The Heir's Tower" had a +flat lead roof easy of access, and from it you could inspect +Huntercombe Hall, and see what was done on the lawn or at some of the +windows. + +Here, in the August afternoons, Mr. and Mrs. Bassett used to sit +drinking their tea, with nurse and child; and Bassett would talk to his +unconscious boy, and tell him that the great house and all that +belonged to it should be his in spite of the arts that had been used to +rob him of it. + +Now, of course, the greater part of all this gratulation was merely +amusing, and did no harm except stirring up the bile of a few old +bachelors, and imbittering them worse than ever against clucking cocks, +crowing hens, inflated parents, and matrimony in general. + +But the overflow of it reached Huntercombe Hall, and gave cruel pain to +the childless ones, over whom this inflated father was, in fact, +exulting. + +As for the christening, and the bells that pealed for it, and the +subsequent churching, they bore these things with sore hearts, and +bravely, being things of course. But when it came to their ears that +Bassett and his family called his new gravel-walk "The Heir's Walk," +and his ridiculous nursery "The Heir's Tower," this roused a bitter +animosity, and, indeed, led to reprisals. Sir Charles built a long wall +at the edge of his garden, shutting out "The Heir's Walk" and +intercepting the view of his own premises from that walk. + +Then Mr. Bassett made a little hill at the end of his walk, so that the +heir might get one peep over the wall at his rich inheritance. + +Then Sir Charles began to fell timber on a gigantic scale. He went to +work with several gangs of woodmen, and all his woods, which were very +extensive, rang with the ax, and the trees fell like corn. He made no +secret that he was going to sell timber to the tune of several thousand +pounds and settle it on his wife. + +Then Richard Bassett, through Wheeler, his attorney, remonstrated in +his own name, and that of his son, against this excessive fall of +timber on an entailed estate. + +Sir Charles chafed like a lion stung by a gad-fly, but vouchsafed no +reply: the answer came from Mr. Oldfield; he said Sir Charles had a +right under the entail to fell every stick of timber, and turn his +woods into arable ground, if he chose; and even if he had not, looking +at his age and his wife's, it was extremely improbable that Richard +Bassett would inherit the estates: the said Richard Bassett was not +personally named in the entail, and his rights were all in supposition: +if Mr. Wheeler thought he could dispute both these positions, the Court +of Chancery was open to his client. + +Then Wheeler advised Bassett to avoid the Court of Chancery in a matter +so debatable; and Sir Charles felled all the more for the protest. The +dead bodies of the trees fell across each other, and daylight peeped +through the thick woods. It was like the clearing of a primeval forest. + +Richard Bassett went about with a witness and counted the fallen. + +The poor were allowed the lopwood: they thronged in for miles round, +and each built himself a great wood pile for the winter; the poor +blessed Sir Charles: he gave the proceeds, thirteen thousand pounds, to +his wife for her separate use. He did not tie it up. He restricted her +no further than this: she undertook never to draw above 100 pounds at a +time without consulting Mr. Oldfield as to the application. Sir Charles +said he should add to this fund every year; his beloved wife should not +be poor, even if the hated cousin should outlive him and turn her out +of Huntercombe. + +And so passed the summer of that year; then the autumn; and then came a +singularly mild winter. There was more hunting than usual, and Richard +Bassett, whom his wife's fortune enabled to cut a better figure than +before, was often in the field, mounted on a great bony horse that was +not so fast as some, being half-bred, but a wonderful jumper. + +Even in this pastime the cousins were rivals. Sir Charles's favorite +horse was a magnificent thoroughbred, who was seldom far off at the +finish: over good ground Richard's cocktail had no chance with him; but +sometimes, if toward the close of the run they came to stiff fallows +and strong fences, the great strength of the inferior animal, and that +prudent reserve of his powers which distinguishes the canny cocktail +from the higher-blooded animal, would give him the advantage. + +Of this there occurred, on a certain 18th of November, an example +fraught with very serious consequences. + +That day the hounds met on Sir Charles's estate. Sir Charles and Lady +Bassett breakfasted in Pink; he had on his scarlet coat, white tie, +irreproachable buckskins, and top-boots. (It seemed a pity a speck of +dirt should fall on them.) Lady Bassett was in her riding-habit; and +when she mounted her pony, and went to cover by his side, with her +blue-velvet cap and her red-brown hair, she looked more like a +brilliant flower than a mere woman. + +A veteran fox was soon found, and went away with unusual courage and +speed, and Lady Bassett paced homeward to wait her lord's return, with +an anxiety men laugh at, but women can appreciate. It was a form of +quiet suffering she had constantly endured, and never complained, nor +even mentioned the subject to Sir Charles but once, and then he +pooh-poohed her fancies. + +The hunt had a burst of about forty minutes that left Richard Bassett's +cocktail in the rear; and the fox got into a large beech wood with +plenty of briars, and kept dodging about it for two hours, and puzzled +the scent repeatedly. + +Richard Bassett elected not to go winding in and out among trees, risk +his horse's legs in rabbit-holes, and tire him for nothing. He had kept +for years a little note book he called "Statistics of Foxes," and that +told him an old dog-fox of uncommon strength, if dislodged from that +particular wood, would slip into Bellman's Coppice, and if driven out +of that would face the music again, would take the open country for +Higham Gorse, and probably be killed before he got there; but once +there a regiment of scythes might cut him out, but bleeding, sneezing +fox-hounds would never work him out at the tail of a long run. + +So Richard Bassett kept out of the wood, and went gently on to +Bellman's Coppice and waited outside. + +His book proved an oracle. After two hours' dodging and maneuvering the +fox came out at the very end of Bellman's Coppice, with nothing near +him but Richard Bassett. Pug gave him the white of his eye in an ugly +leer, and headed straight as a crow for Higham Gorse. + +Richard Bassett blew his horn, collected the hunt, and laid the dogs +on. Away they went, close together, thunder-mouthed on the hot scent. + +After a three miles' gallop they sighted the fox for a moment just +going over the crest of a rising ground two furlongs off. Then the +hullabbaloo and excitement grew furious, and one electric fury animated +dogs, men, and horses. Another mile, and the fox ran in sight scarcely +a furlong off; but many of the horses were distressed: the Bassetts, +however, kept up, one by his horse being fresh, the other by his +animal's native courage and speed. + +Then came some meadows, bounded by a thick hedge, and succeeded by a +plowed field of unusual size--eighty acres. + +When the fox darted into this hedge the hounds were yelling at his +heels; the hunt burst through the thin fence, expecting to see them +kill close to it. + +But the wily fox had other resources at his command than speed. +Appreciating his peril, he doubled and ran sixty yards down the ditch, +and the impetuous hounds rushed forward and overran the scent. They +raved about to and fro, till at last one of the gentlemen descried the +fox running down a double furrow in the middle of the field. He had got +into this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footed +pursuers could. The dogs were laid on, and away they went +helter-skelter. + +At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an old +quickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, and +a new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches. + +The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumped +on to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field. + +Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed his +forefeet in the field, and so scrambled on. + +Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by the +fallow, caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and went +headlong into the other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head into +the field. Unluckily some of the trees were lying about, and Sir +Charles's head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered out +again, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider lay there +motionless. + +Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; but +presently Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh, +turned round in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two or +three gentlemen dismounting at the place. These were newcomers. Then he +resigned the hunt, and rode back. + +Sir Charles's cap was crushed in, and there was blood on his white +waistcoat; he was very pale, and quite insensible. + +The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm and kindly concern, +and inquired of each other what was best to be done. + +Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate opinion, and seized +it. "He must be taken home directly," said he. "We must carry him to +that farmhouse, and get a cart for him." + +He helped carry him accordingly. The farmer lent them a cart, with +straw, and they laid the insensible baronet gently on it, Richard +Bassett supporting his head. "Gentlemen," said he, rather pompously, +"at such a moment everything but the tie of kindred is forgotten." +Which resounding sentiment was warmly applauded by the honest squires. + +They took him slowly and carefully toward Huntercombe, distant about +two miles from the scene of the accident. + + + +This 18th November Lady Bassett passed much as usual with her on +hunting days. She was quietly patient till the afternoon, and then +restless, and could not settle down in any part of the house till she +got to a little room on the first floor, with a bay-window commanding +the country over which Sir Charles was hunting. In this she sat, with +her head against one of the mullions, and eyed the country-side as far +as she could see. + +Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary Wells standing and +looking at her with evident emotion. + +"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett. + +"Oh, my lady!" said Mary. And she trembled, and her hands worked. + +Lady Bassett started up with alarm painted in her countenance. + +"My lady, there's something wrong in the hunting field." + +"Sir Charles!" + +"An accident, they say." + +Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint cry. Mary Wells ran +to her. + +"Come with me directly!" cried Lady Bassett. She snatched up her +bonnet, and in another minute she and Mary Wells were on their road to +the village, questioning every body they met. + +But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. The stable-boy, +who had told the report in the kitchen of Huntercombe, said he had it +from a gentleman's groom, riding by as he stood at the gates. + +The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing rapidly by was +not confirmed by any further report, and Lady Bassett began to hope it +was false. + +But a terrible confirmation came at last. + +In the outskirts of the village mistress and servant encountered a +sorrowful procession: the cart itself, followed by five gentlemen on +horseback, pacing slowly, and downcast as at a funeral. + +In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with mud, and his +white waistcoat bloody, lay with his head upon Richard Bassett's knee. +His hair was wet with blood, some of which had trickled down his cheek +and dried. Even Richard's buckskins were slightly stained with it. + +At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which those who heard it +never forgot, and flung herself, Heaven knows how, into the cart; but +she got there, and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She took +no notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles away from him, +and the cart took her, embracing him tenderly, and kissing his hurt +head, and moaning over him, all through the village to Huntercombe +Hall. + +Four years ago they passed through the same village in a +carriage-and-four--bells pealing, rustics shouting--to take possession +of Huntercombe, and fill it with pledges of their great and happy love; +and as they flashed past the heir at law shrank hopeless into his +little cottage. Now, how changed the pageant!--a farmer's cart, a +splashed and bleeding and senseless form in it, supported by a +childless, despairing woman, one weeping attendant walking at the side, +and, among the gentlemen pacing slowly behind, the heir at law, with +his head lowered in that decent affectation of regret which all heirs +can put on to hide the indecent complacency within. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AT the steps of Huntercombe Hall the servants streamed out, and +relieved the strangers of the sorrowful load. Sir Charles was carried +into the Hall, and Richard Bassett turned away, with one triumphant +flash of his eye, quickly suppressed, and walked with impenetrable +countenance and studied demeanor into Highmore House. + +Even here he did not throw off the mask. It peeled off by degrees. He +began by telling his wife, gravely enough, Sir Charles had met with a +severe fall, and he had attended to him and taken him home. + +"Ah, I am glad you did that, Richard," said Mrs. Bassett. "And is he +very badly hurt?" + +"I am afraid he will hardly get over it. He never spoke. He just +groaned when they took him down from the cart at Huntercombe." + +"Poor Lady Bassett!" + +"Ay, it will be a bad job for her. Jane!" + +"Yes, dear." + +"There is a providence in it. The fall would never have killed him; but +his head struck a tree upon the ground; and that tree was one of the +very elms he had just cut down to rob our boy." + +"Indeed?" + +"Yes; he was felling the very hedgerow timber, and this was one of the +old elms in a hedge. He must have done it out of spite, for elm-wood +fetches no price; it is good for nothing I know of, except coffins. +Well, he has cut down _his."_ + +"Poor man! Richard, death reconciles enemies. Surely you can forgive +him now." + +"I mean to try." + +Richard Bassett seemed now to have imbibed the spirit of quicksilver. +His occupations were not actually enlarged, yet, somehow or other, he +seemed full of business. He was all complacent bustle about nothing. He +left off inveighing against Sir Charles. And, indeed, if you are one of +those weak spirits to whom censure is intolerable, there is a cheap and +easy way to moderate the rancor of detraction--you have only to die. +Let me comfort genius in particular with this little recipe. + +Why, on one occasion, Bassett actually snubbed Wheeler for a mere +allusion. That worthy just happened to remark, "No more felling of +timber on Bassett Manor for a while." + +"For shame!" said Richard. "The man had his faults, but he had his good +qualities too: a high-spirited gentleman, beloved by his friends and +respected by all the county. His successor will find it hard to +reconcile the county to his loss." + +Wheeler stared, and then grinned satirically. + +This eulogy was never repeated, for Sir Charles proved ungrateful--he +omitted to die, after all. + +Attended by first-rate physicians, tenderly nursed and watched by Lady +Bassett and Mary Wells, he got better by degrees; and every stage of +his slow but hopeful progress was communicated to the servants and the +village, and to the ladies and gentlemen who rode up to the door every +day and left their cards of inquiry. + +The most attentive of all these was the new rector, a young clergyman, +who had obtained the living by exchange. He was a man highly gifted +both in body and mind--a swarthy Adonis, whose large dark eyes from the +very first turned with glowing admiration on the blonde beauties of +Lady Bassett. + +He came every day to inquire after her husband; and she sometimes left +the sufferer a minute or two to make her report to him in person. At +other times Mary Wells was sent to him. That artful girl soon +discovered what had escaped her mistress's observation. + +The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all sides. + +Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. "I want to see him about again," +said he. "Sir Charles is not the man to lie in bed if he was really +better. As for the doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment. +Let me see him on his legs, and then I'll believe he is better." + +Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Richard Bassett this moderate +request. One frosty but sunny afternoon, as he was inspecting his +coming domain from "The Heir's Tower," he saw the Hall door open, and a +muffled figure come slowly down the steps between two women: It was Sir +Charles, feeble but convalescent. He crept about on the sunny gravel +for about ten minutes, and then his nurses conveyed him tenderly in +again. + +This sight, which might have touched with pity a more generous nature, +startled Richard Bassett, and then moved his bile. "I was a fool," said +he; "nothing will ever kill that man. He will see me out; see us all +out. And that Mary Wells nurses him, and I dare say in love with him by +this time; the fools can't nurse a man without. Curse the whole pack of +ye!" he yelled, and turned away in rage and disgust. + +That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange fit of jealousy, +began to make hot protestations of love to her. He knew it was no use +reproaching her, so he went on the other tack. + +She received his vows with cool complacency, but would only stay a +minute, and would only talk of her master and mistress, toward whom her +heart was really warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, and +said: "'Tisn't as if he was one of your faint-hearted ones as meet +death half-way. Why, the second day, when he could scarce speak, he +sees me crying by the bed, and says he, almost in a whisper, 'What are +_you_ crying for?' 'Sir,' says I, ''tis for you--to see you lie like a +ghost.' 'Then you be wasting of salt-water,' says he. 'I wish I may, +sir,' says I. So then he raised himself up a little bit. 'Look at me,' +says he; 'I'm a Bassett. I am not the breed to die for a crack on the +skull, and leave you all to the mercy of them that would have no +mercy'--which he meant you, I suppose. So he ordered me to leave +crying, which I behooved to obey; for he will be master, mind ye, while +he have a finger to wag, poor dear gentleman, he will." + +And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to detain her, and +scudded back to the house, leaving Bassett to his reflections, which +were exceedingly bitter. + +Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily with Lady +Bassett. Their favorite stroll was up and down the lawn, close under +the boundary wall he had built to shut out "The Heir's Walk." + +The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall and the walk by its side. + +On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky Bassett, the heir; +but neither of the promenaders could see each other for the wall. + +Richard Bassett, on the contrary, from "The Heir's Tower," could see +both these little parties; and, as some men cannot keep away from what +causes their pain, he used to watch these loving walks, and see Sir +Charles get stronger and stronger, till at last, instead of leaning on +his beloved wife, he could march by her side, or even give her his arm. + +Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, except during +these blissful walks, when the sun shone on him, and Love and Beauty +soothed him, Sir Charles was not the man he had been. The shake he had +received appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He became so +irritable that several of his servants left him; and to his wife he +repined; and his childless condition, which had been hitherto only a +deep disappointment, became in his eyes a calamity that outweighed his +many blessings. He had now narrowly escaped dying without an heir, and +this seemed to sink into his mind, and, co-operating with the +concussion his brain had received, brought him into a morbid state. He +brooded on it, and spoke of it, and got back to it from every other +topic, in a way that distressed Lady Bassett unspeakably. She consoled +him bravely; but often, when she was alone, her gentle courage gave +way, and she cried bitterly to herself. + +Her distress had one effect she little expected; it completed what her +invariable kindness had begun, and actually won the heart of a servant. +Those who really know that tribe will agree with me that this was a +marvelous conquest. Yet so it was; Mary Wells conceived for her a real +affection, and showed it by unremitting attention, and a soft and +tender voice, that soothed Lady Bassett, and drew many a silent but +grateful glance from her dove-like eyes. + +Mary listened, and heard enough to blame Sir Charles for his +peevishness, and she began to throw out little expressions of +dissatisfaction at him; but these were so promptly discouraged by the +faithful wife that she drew in again and avoided that line. But one +day, coming softly as a cat, she heard Sir Charles and Lady Bassett +talking over their calamity. Sir Charles was saying that it was +Heaven's curse; that all the poor people in the village had children; +that Richard Bassett's weak, puny little wife had brought him an heir, +and was about to make him a parent again; he alone was marked out and +doomed to be the last of his race. "And yet," said he, "if I had +married any other woman, and you had married any other man, we should +have had children by the dozen, I suppose." + +Upon the whole, though he said nothing palpably unjust, he had the tone +of a man blaming his wife as the real cause of their joint calamity, +under which she suffered a deeper, nobler, and more silent anguish than +himself. This was hard to bear; and when Sir Charles went away, Mary +Wells ran in, with an angry expression on the tip of her tongue. + +She found Lady Bassett in a pitiable condition, lying rather than +leaning on the table, with her hair loose about her, sobbing as if her +heart would break. + +All that was good in Mary Wells tugged at her heart-strings. She flung +herself on her knees beside her, and seizing her mistress's hand, and +drawing it to her bosom, fell to crying and sobbing along with her. + +This canine devotion took Lady Bassett by surprise. She turned her +tearful eyes upon her sympathizing servant, and said, "Oh, Mary!" and +her soft hand pressed the girl's harder palm gratefully. + +Mary spoke first. "Oh, my lady," she sobbed, "it breaks my heart to see +you so. And what a shame to blame you for what is no fault of yourn. If +I was your husband the cradles would soon be full in this house; but +these fine gentlemen, they be old before their time with smoking of +tobacco; and then to come and lay the blame on we!" + +"Mary, I value you very much--more than I ever did a servant in my +life; but if you speak against your master we shall part." + +"La, my lady, I wouldn't for the world. Sir Charles is a perfect +gentleman. Why, he gave me a sovereign only the other day for nursing +of him; but he didn't ought to blame you for no fault of yourn, and to +make you cry. It tears me inside out to see you cry; you that is so +good to rich and poor. I wouldn't vex myself so for that: dear heart, +'twas always so; God sends meat to one house, and mouths to another." + +"I could be patient if poor Sir Charles was not so unhappy," sighed +Lady Bassett; "but if ever you are a wife, Mary, you will know how +wretched it makes us to see a beloved husband unhappy." + +"Then I'd make him happy," said Mary. + +"Ah, if I only could!" + +"Oh, I could tell you a way; for I have known it done; and now he is as +happy as a prince. You see, my lady, some men are like children; to +make them happy you must give them their own way; and so, if I was in +your place, I wouldn't make two bites of a cherry, for sometimes I +think he will fret himself out of the world for want on't." + +"Heaven forbid!" + +"It is my belief you would not be long behind him." + +"No, Mary. Why should I?" + +"Then--whisper, my lady!" + +And, although Lady Bassett drew slightly back at this freedom, Mary +Wells poured into her ear a proposal that made her stare and shiver. + +As for the girl's own face, it was as unmoved as if it had been bronze. + +Lady Bassett drew back, and eyed her askant with amazement and terror. + +"What is this you have dared to say?" + +"Why, it is done every day." + +"By people of your class, perhaps. No; I don't believe it. Mary, I have +been mistaken in you. I am afraid you are a vicious girl. Leave me, +please. I can't bear the sight of you." + +Mary went away, very red, and the tear in her eye. + +In the evening Lady Bassett gave Mary Wells a month's warning, and Mary +accepted it doggedly, and thought herself very cruelly used. + +After this mistress and maid did not exchange an unnecessary word for +many days. + +This notice to leave was very bitter to Mary Wells, for she was in the +very act of making a conquest. Young Drake, a very small farmer and +tenant of Sir Charles, had fallen in love with her, and she liked him +and had resolved he should marry her, with which view she was playing +the tender but coy maiden very prettily. But Drake, though young and +very much in love, was advised by his mother, and evidently resolved to +go the old-fashioned way--keep company a year, and know the girl before +offering the ring. + +Just before her month was out a more serious trouble threatened Mary +Wells. + +Her low, artful amour with Richard Bassett had led to its natural +results. By degrees she had gone further than she intended, and now the +fatal consequences looked her in the face. + +She found herself in an odious position; for her growing regard for +young Drake, though not a violent attachment, was enough to set her +more and more against Richard Bassett, and she was preparing an entire +separation from the latter when the fatal truth dawned on her. + +Then there was a temporary revulsion of feeling; she told her condition +to Bassett, and implored him, with many tears, to aid her to disappear +for a time and hide her misfortune, especially from her sister. + +Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer that made her blood +run cold. "Why do you come to me?" said he. "Why don't you go to the +right man--young Drake?" + +He then told her he had had her watched, and she must not think to make +a fool of him. She was as intimate with the young farmer as with him, +and was in his company every day. + +Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but said he was a +civil, respectful young man, who desired to make her his wife. "You +have lost me that," said she, bursting into tears; "and so, for God's +sake, show yourself a man for once, and see me through my trouble." + +The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, and said, +"When there are two it is always the gentleman you girls deceive. But +you can't make a fool of me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I'll +give you a wedding present; that is all I can do for any other man's +sweetheart. I have got my own family to provide for, and it is all I +can contrive to make both ends meet." + +He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she tried threats. He +laughed at them. Said he, "The time is gone by for that: if you wanted +to sue me for breach of promise, you should have done it at once; not +waited eighteen months and taken another sweetheart first. Come, come; +you played your little game. You made me come here week after week and +bleed a sovereign. A woman that loved a man would never have been so +hard on him as you were on me. I grinned and bore it; but when you ask +me to own another man's child, a man of your own sort that you are in +love with--you hate me--that is a little too much: no, Mrs. Drake; if +that is your game we will fight it out--before the public if you like." +And, having delivered this with a tone of harsh and loud defiance, he +left her--left her forever. She sat down upon the cold ground and +rocked herself. Despair was cold at her heart. + +She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. Then she got up +and went to her mistress's room and sat by the fire, for her limbs were +cold as well as her heart. + +She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, till Lady +Bassett came up to bed. She then went through her work like an +automaton, and every now and then a deep sigh came from her breast. + +Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her face was altered; a +sort of sullen misery was written on it. Lady Bassett was quick at +reading faces, and this look alarmed her. "Mary," said she, kindly, "is +there anything the matter?" + +No reply. + +"Are you unwell?" + +"No." + +"Are you in trouble?" + +"Ay!" with a burst of tears. + +Lady Bassett let her cry, thinking it would relieve her, and then spoke +to her again with the languid pensiveness of a woman who has also her +trouble. "You have been very attentive to Sir Charles, and a kind good +servant to me, Mary." + +"You are mocking me, my lady," said Mary, bitterly. "You wouldn't have +turned me off for a word if I had been a good servant." + +Lady Bassett colored high, and was silenced for a moment. At last she +said, "I feel it must seem harsh to you. You don't know how wicked it +was to tempt me. But it is not as if you had _done_ anything wrong. I +do not feel bound to mention mere words: I shall give you an excellent +character, Mary--indeed I _have._ I think I have got a good place for +you. I shall know to-morrow, and when it is settled we will look over +my wardrobe together." + +This proposal implied a boxful of presents, and would have made Mary's +dark eyes flash with delight at another time; but she was past all that +now. She interrupted Lady Bassett with this strange speech: "You are +very kind, my lady; will you lend me the key of your medicine chest?" + +Lady Bassett looked surprised, but said, "Certainly, Mary," and held +out the keys. + +But, before Mary could take them, she considered a moment, and asked +her what medicine she required. + +"Only a little laudanum." + +"No, Mary; not while you look like that, and refuse to tell me your +trouble. I am your mistress, and must exert my authority for your good. +Tell me at once what is the matter." + +"I'd bite my tongue off sooner." + +"You are wrong, Mary. I am sure I should be your best friend. I feel +much indebted to you for the attention and the affection you have shown +me, and I am grieved to see you so despondent. Make a friend of me. +There--think it over, and talk to me again to-morrow." + +Mary Wells took the true servant's view of Lady Bassett's kindness. She +looked at it as a trap; not, indeed, set with malice prepense, but +still a trap. She saw that Lady Bassett meant kindly at present; but, +for all that, she was sure that if she told the truth, her mistress +would turn against her, and say, "Oh! I had no idea your trouble arose +out of your own imprudence. I can do nothing for a vicious girl." + +She resolved therefore to say nothing, or else to tell some lie or +other quite wide of the mark. + +Deplorable as this young woman's situation was, the duplicity and +coarseness of mind which had brought her into it would have somewhat +blunted the mental agony such a situation must inflict; but it was +aggravated by a special terror; she knew that if she was found out she +would lose the only sure friend she had in the world. + +The fact is, Mary Wells had seen a great deal of life during the two +years she was out of the reader's sight. Rhoda had been very good to +her; had set her up in a lodging-house, at her earnest request. She +misconducted it, and failed: threw it up in disgust, and begged Rhoda +to put her in the public line. Rhoda complied. Mary made a mess of the +public-house. Then Rhoda showed her she was not fit to govern anything, +and drove her into service again; and in that condition, having no more +cares than a child, and plenty of work to do, and many a present from +Rhoda, she had been happy. + +But Rhoda, though she forgave blunders, incapacity for business, and +waste of money, had always told her plainly there was one thing she +never would forgive. + +Rhoda Marsh had become a good Christian in every respect but one. The +male rake reformed is rather tolerant; but the female rake reformed is, +as a rule, bitterly intolerant of female frailty; and Rhoda carried +this female characteristic to an extreme both in word and in deed. They +were only half-sisters, after all; and Mary knew that she would be cast +off forever if she deviated from virtue so far as to be found out. + +Besides the general warning, there had been a special one. When she +read Mary's first letter from Huntercombe Hall Rhoda was rather taken +aback at first; but, on reflection, she wrote to Mary, saying she could +stay there on two conditions: she must be discreet, and never mention +her sister Rhoda in the house, and she must not be tempted to renew her +acquaintance with Richard Bassett. "Mind," said she, "if ever you speak +to that villain I shall hear of it, and I shall never notice you +again." + +This was the galling present and the dark future which had made so +young and unsentimental a woman as Mary Wells think of suicide for a +moment or two; and it now deprived her of her rest, and next day kept +her thinking and brooding all the time her now leaden limbs were +carrying her through her menial duties. + +The afternoon was sunny, and Sir Charles and Lady Bassett took their +usual walk. + +Mary Wells went a little way with them, looking very miserable. Lady +Bassett observed, and said, kindly, "Mary, you can give me that shawl; +I will not keep you; go where you like till five o'clock." + +Mary never said so much as "Thank you." She put the shawl round her +mistress, and then went slowly back. She sat down on the stone steps, +and glared stupidly at the scene, and felt very miserable and leaden. +She seemed to be stuck in a sort of slough of despond, and could not +move in any direction to get out of it. + +While she sat in this somber reverie a gentleman walked up to the door, +and Mary Wells lifted her head and looked at him. Notwithstanding her +misery, her eyes rested on him with some admiration, for he was a model +of a man: six feet high, and built like an athlete. His face was oval, +and his skin dark but glowing; his hair, eyebrows, and long eyelashes +black as jet; his gray eyes large and tender. He was dressed in black, +with a white tie, and his clothes were well cut, and seemed +superlatively so, owing to the importance and symmetry of the figure +they covered. It was the new vicar, Mr. Angelo. + +He smiled on Mary graciously, and asked her how Sir Charles was. + +She said he was better. + +Then Mr. Angelo asked, more timidly, was Lady Bassett at home. + +"She is just gone out, sir." + +A look of deep disappointment crossed Mr. Angelo's face. It did not +escape Mary Wells. She looked at him full, and, lowering her voice a +little, said, "She is only in the grounds with Sir Charles. She will be +at home about five o'clock." + +Mr. Angelo hesitated, and then said he would call again at five. He +evidently preferred a duet to a trio. He then thanked Mary Wells with +more warmth than the occasion seemed to call for, and retired very +slowly: he had come very quickly. + +Mary Wells looked after him, and asked herself wildly if she could not +make some use of him and his manifest infatuation. + +But before her mind could fix on any idea, and, indeed, before the +young clergyman had taken twenty steps homeward, loud voices were heard +down the shrubbery. + +These were followed by an agonized scream. + +Mary Wells started up, and the young parson turned: they looked at each +other in amazement. + +Then came wild and piercing cries for help--in a woman's voice. + +The young clergyman cried out, _"Her_ voice! _her_ voice!" and dashed +into the shrubbery with a speed Mary Wells had never seen equaled. He +had won the 200-yard race at Oxford in his day. + +The agonized screams were repeated, and Mary Wells screamed in response +as she ran toward the place. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +SIR CHARLES BASSETT was in high spirits this afternoon--indeed, a +little too high. + +"Bella, my love," said he, "now I'll tell you why I made you give me +your signature this morning. The money has all come in for the wood, +and this very day I sent Oldfield instructions to open an account for +you with a London banker." + +Lady Bassett looked at him with tears of tenderness in her eyes. +"Dearest," said she, "I have plenty of money; but the love to which I +owe this present, that is my treasure of treasures. Well, I accept it, +Charles; but don't ask me to spend it on myself; I should feel I was +robbing you." + +"It is nothing to me how you spend it; I have saved it from the enemy." + +Now that very enemy heard these words. He had looked from the "Heir's +Tower," and seen Sir Charles and Lady Bassett walking on their side the +wall, and the nurse carrying his heir on the other side. + +He had come down to look at his child in the sun; but he walked softly, +on the chance of overhearing Sir Charles and Lady Bassett say something +or other about his health; his design went no further than that, but +the fate of listeners is proverbial. + +Lady Bassett endeavored to divert her husband from the topic he seemed +to be approaching; it always excited him now, and did him harm. + +"Do not waste your thoughts on that enemy. He is powerless." + +"At this moment, perhaps; but his turn is sure to come again; and I +shall provide for it. I mean to live on half my income, and settle the +other half on you. I shall act on the clause in the entail, and sell +all the timber on the estate, except about the home park and my best +covers. It will take me some years to do this; I must not glut the +market, and spoil your profits; but every year I'll have a fall, till I +have denuded Mr. Bassett's inheritance, as he calls it, and swelled +your banker's account to a Plum. Bella, I have had a shake. Even now +that I am better such a pain goes through my head, like a bullet +crushing through it, whenever I get excited. I don't think I shall be a +long-lived man. But never mind, I'll live as long as I can; and, while +I do live, I'll work for you, and against that villain." + +"Charles," cried Lady Bassett, "I implore you to turn your thoughts +away from that man, and to give up these idle schemes. Were you to die +I should soon follow you; so pray do not shorten your life by these +angry passions, or you will shorten mine." + +This appeal acted powerfully on Sir Charles, and he left off suddenly +with flushed cheeks and tried to compose himself. + +But his words had now raised a corresponding fury on the other side of +that boundary wall. Richard Bassett, stung with rage, and, unlike his +high-bred cousin, accustomed to mix cunning even with his fury, gave +him a terrible blow--a very _coup de Jarnac._ He spoke _at_ him; he ran +forward to the nurse, and said very loud: "Let me see the little +darling. He does you credit. What fat cheeks!--what arms!--an infant +hercules! There, take him up the mound. Now lift him in your arms, and +let him see his inheritance. Higher, nurse, higher. Ay, crow away, +youngster; all that is yours--house and land and all. They may steal +the trees; they can't make away with the broad acres. Ha! I believe he +understands every word, nurse. See how he smiles and crows." + +At the sound of Bassett's voice Sir Charles started, and, at the first +taunt, he uttered something between a moan and a roar, as of a wounded +lion. + +"Come away," cried Lady Bassett. "He is doing it on purpose." + +But the stabs came too fast. Sir Charles shook her off, and looked +wildly round for a weapon to strike his insulter with. + +"Curse him and his brat!" he cried. "They shall neither of them--I'll +kill them both." + +He sprang fiercely at the wall, and, notwithstanding his weakly +condition, raised himself above it, and glared over with a face so full +of fury that Richard Bassett recoiled in dismay for a moment, and said, +"Run! run! He'll hurt the child!" + +But, the next moment, Sir Charles's hands lost their power; he uttered +a miserable moan, and fell gasping under the wall in an epileptic fit, +with all the terrible symptoms I have described in a previous portion +of this story. These were new to his poor wife, and, as she strove in +vain to control his fearful convulsions, her shrieks rent the air. +Indeed, her screams were so appalling that Bassett himself sprang at +the wall, and, by a great effort of strength, drew himself up, and +peered down, with white face, at the glaring eyes, clinched teeth, +purple face, and foaming lips of his enemy, and his body that bounded +convulsively on the ground with incredible violence. + +At that moment humanity prevailed over every thing, and he flung +himself over the wall, and in his haste got rather a heavy fall +himself. "It is a fit!" he cried, and running to the brook close by, +filled his hat with water, and was about to dash it over Sir Charles's +face. + +But Lady Bassett repelled him with horror. "Don't touch him, you +villain! You have killed him." And then she shrieked again. + +At this moment Mr. Angelo dashed up, and saw at a glance what it was, +for he had studied medicine a little. He said, "It is epilepsy. Leave +him to me." He managed, by his great strength, to keep the patient's +head down till the face got pale and the limbs still; then, telling +Lady Bassett not to alarm herself too much, he lifted Sir Charles, and +actually proceeded to carry him toward the house. Lady Bassett, +weeping, proffered her assistance, and so did Mary Wells; but this +athlete said, a little bruskly, "No, no; I have practiced this sort of +thing;" and, partly by his rare strength, partly by his familiarity +with all athletic feats, carried the insensible baronet to his own +house, as I have seen my accomplished friend Mr. Henry Neville carry a +tall actress on the mimic stage; only, the distance being much longer, +the perspiration rolled down Mr. Angelo's face with so sustained an +effort. + +He laid him gently on the floor of his study, while Lady Bassett sent +two grooms galloping for medical advice, and half a dozen servants +running for this and that stimulant, as one thing after another +occurred to her agitated mind. The very rustling of dresses and scurry +of feet overhead told all the house a great calamity had stricken it. + +Lady Bassett hung over the sufferer, sighing piteously, and was for +supporting his beloved head with her tender arm; but Mr. Angelo told +her it was better to keep the head low, that the blood might flow back +to the vessels of the brain. + +She cast a look of melting gratitude on her adviser, and composed +herself to apply stimulants under his direction and advice. + +Thus judiciously treated, Sir Charles began to recover consciousness in +part. He stared and muttered incoherently. Lady Bassett thanked God on +her knees, and then turned to Mr. Angelo with streaming eyes, and +stretched out both hands to him, with an indescribable eloquence of +gratitude. He gave her his hands timidly, and she pressed them both +with all her soul. Unconsciously she sent a rapturous thrill through +the young man's body: he blushed, and then turned pale, and felt for a +moment almost faint with rapture at that sweet and unexpected pressure +of her soft hands. + +But at this moment Sir Charles broke out in a sort of dry, +business-like voice, "I'll kill the viper and his brood!" Then he +stared at Mr. Angelo, and could not make him out at first. "Ah!" said +he, complacently, "this is my private tutor: a man of learning. I read +Homer with him; but I have forgotten it, all but one line-- + +"[greek]" + +"That's a beautiful verse. Homer, old boy, I'll take your advice. I'll +kill the heir at law, and his brat as well, and when they are dead and +well seasoned I'll sell them to that old timber-merchant, the devil, to +make hell hotter. Order my horse, somebody, this minute!" + +During this tirade Lady Bassett's hands kept clutching, as if to stop +it, and her eyes filled with horror. + +Mr. Angelo came again to her rescue. He affected to take it all as a +matter of course, and told the servants they need not wait, Sir Charles +was coming to himself by degrees, and the danger was all over. + +But when the servants were gone he said to Lady Bassett, seriously, "I +would not let any servant be about Sir Charles, except this one. She is +evidently attached to you. Suppose we take him to his own room." + +He then made Mary Wells a signal, and they carried him upstairs. + +Sir Charles talked all the while with pitiable vehemence. Indeed, it +was a continuous babble, like a brook. + +Mary Wells was taking him into his own room, but Lady Bassett said, +"No: into my room. Oh, I will never let him out of my sight again." + +Then they carried him into Lady Bassett's bedroom, and laid him gently +down on a couch there. + +He looked round, observed the locality, and uttered a little sigh of +complacency. He left off talking for the present, and seemed to doze. + +The place which exerted this soothing influence on Sir Charles had a +contrary and strange effect on Mr. Angelo. + +It was of palatial size, and lighted by two side windows, and an oriel +window at the end. The delicate stone shafts and mullions were such as +are oftener seen in cathedrals than in mansions. The deep embrasure was +filled with beautiful flowers and luscious exotic leaf-plants from the +hot-houses. The floor was of polished oak, and some feet of this were +left bare on all sides of the great Aubusson carpet made expressly for +the room. By this means cleanliness penetrated into every corner: the +oak was not only cleaned, but polished like a mirror. The curtains were +French chintzes, of substance, and exquisite patterns, and very +voluminous. On the walls was a delicate rose-tinted satin paper, to +which French art, unrivaled in these matters, had given the appearance +of being stuffed, padded, and divided into a thousand cozy pillows, by +gold-headed nails. + +The wardrobes were of satin-wood. The bedsteads, one small, one large, +were plain white, and gold in moderation. + +All this, however, was but the frame to the delightful picture of a +wealthy young lady's nest. + +The things that startled and thrilled Mr. Angelo were those his +imagination could see the fair mistress using. The exquisite toilet +table; the Dresden mirror, with its delicate china frame muslined and +ribboned; the great ivory-handled brushes, the array of cut-glass +gold-mounted bottles, and all the artillery of beauty; the baths of +various shapes and sizes, in which she laved her fair body; the bath +sheets, and the profusion of linen, fine and coarse; the bed, with its +frilled sheets, its huge frilled pillows, and its eider-down quilt, +covered with bright purple silk. + +A delicate perfume came through the wardrobes, where strata of fine +linen from Hamburg and Belfast lay on scented herbs; and this, +permeating the room, seemed the very perfume of Beauty itself, and +intoxicated the brain. Imagination conjured pictures proper to the +scene: a goddess at her toilet; that glorious hair lying tumbled on the +pillow, and burning in contrasted color with the snowy sheets and with +the purple quilt. + +From this reverie he was awakened by a soft voice that said, "How can I +ever thank you enough, sir?" + +Mr. Angelo controlled himself, and said, "By sending for me whenever I +can be of the slightest use." Then, comprehending his danger, he added, +hastily, "And I fear I am none whatever now." Then he rose to go. + +Lady Bassett gave him both her hands again, and this time he kissed one +of them, all in a flurry; he could not resist the temptation. Then he +hurried away, with his whole soul in a tumult. Lady Bassett blushed, +and returned to her husband's side. + +Doctor Willis came, heard the case, looked rather grave and puzzled, +and wrote the inevitable prescription; for the established theory is +that man is cured by drugs alone. + +Sir Charles wandered a little while the doctor was there, and continued +to wander after he was gone. + +Then Mary Wells begged leave to sleep in the dressing-room. + +Lady Bassett thanked her, but said she thought it unnecessary; a good +night's rest, she hoped, would make a great change in the sufferer. + +Mary Wells thought otherwise, and quietly brought her little bed into +the dressing-room and laid it on the floor. + +Her judgment proved right; Sir Charles was no better the next day, nor +the day after. He brooded for hours at a time, and, when he talked, +there was an incoherence in his discourse; above all, he seemed +incapable of talking long on any subject without coming back to the +fatal one of his childlessness; and, when he did return to this, it was +sure to make him either deeply dejected or else violent against Richard +Bassett and his son; he swore at them, and said they were waiting for +his shoes. + +Lady Bassett's anxiety deepened; strange fears came over her. She put +subtle questions to the doctor; he returned obscure answers, and went +on prescribing medicines that had no effect. + +She looked wistfully into Mary Wells's face, and there she saw her own +thoughts reflected. + +"Mary," said she, one day, in a low voice, "what do they say in the +kitchen?" + +"Some say one thing, some another. What can they say? They never see +him, and never shall while I am here." + +This reminded Lady Bassett that Mary's time was up. The idea of a +stranger taking her place, and seeing Sir Charles in his present +condition, was horrible to her. "Oh, Mary," said she, piteously, +"surely you will not leave me just now?" + +"Do you wish me to stay, my lady?" + +"Can you ask it? How can I hope to find such devotion as yours, such +fidelity, and, above all, such secrecy? Ah, Mary, I am the most unhappy +lady in all England this day." + +Then she began to cry bitterly, and Mary Wells cried with her, and said +she would stay as long as she could; "but," said she, "I gave you good +advice, my lady, and so you will find." + +Lady Bassett made no answer whatever, and that disappointed Mary, for +she wanted a discussion. + + + +The days rolled on, and brought no change for the better. Sir Charles +continued to brood on his one misfortune. He refused to go +out-of-doors, even into the garden, giving as his reason that he was +not fit to be seen. "I don't mind a couple of women," said he, gravely, +"but no man shall see Charles Bassett in his present state. No. +Patience! Patience! I'll wait till Heaven takes pity on me. After all, +it would be a shame that such a race as mine should die out, and these +fine estates go to blackguards, and poachers, and anonymous-letter +writers." + +Lady Bassett used to coax him to walk in the corridor; but, even then, +he ordered Mary Wells to keep watch and let none of the servants come +that way. From words he let fall it seems he thought "Childlessness" +was written on his face, and that it had somehow degraded his features. + +Now a wealthy and popular baronet could not thus immure himself for any +length of time without exciting curiosity, and setting all manner of +rumors afloat. Visitors poured into Huntercombe to inquire. + +Lady Bassett excused herself to many, but some of her own sex she +thought it best to encounter. This subjected her to the insidious +attacks of curiosity admirably veiled with sympathy. The assailants +were marvelously subtle; but so was the devoted wife. She gave kiss for +kiss, and equivoque for equivoque. She seemed grateful for each visit; +but they got nothing out of her except that Sir Charles's nerves were +shaken by his fall, and that she was playing the tyrant for once, and +insisting on absolute quiet for her patient. + +One visitor she never refused--Mr. Angelo. He, from the first, had been +her true friend; had carried Sir Charles away from the enemy, and then +had dismissed the gaping servants. She saw that he had divined her +calamity and she knew from things he said to her that he would never +breathe a word out-of-doors. She confided in him. She told him Mr. +Bassett was the real cause of all this misery: he had insulted Sir +Charles. The nature of this insult she suppressed. "And oh, Mr. +Angelo," said she, "that man is my terror night and day! I don't know +what he can do, but I feel he will do something if he ever learns my +poor husband's condition." + +"I trust, Lady Bassett, you are convinced he will learn nothing from +me. Indeed, I will tell the ruffian anything you like. He has been +sounding me a little; called to inquire after his poor cousin--the +hypocrite!" + +"How good you are! Please tell him absolute repose is prescribed for a +time, but there is no doubt of Sir Charles's ultimate recovery." + +Mr. Angelo promised heartily. + +Mary Wells was not enough; a woman must have a man to lean on in +trouble, and Lady Bassett leaned on Mr. Angelo. She even obeyed him. +One day he told her that her own health would fail if she sat always in +the sick-room; she must walk an hour every day. + +_"Must_ I?" said she, sweetly. + +"Yes, even if it is only in your own garden." + +From that time she used to walk with him nearly every day. + +Richard Bassett saw this from his tower of observation; saw it, and +chuckled. "Aha!" said he. "Husband sick in bed. Wife walking in the +garden with a young man--a parson, too. He is dark, she is fair. +Something will come of this. Ha, ha!" + +Lady Bassett now talked of sending to London for advice; but Mary Wells +dissuaded her. "Physic can't cure him. There's only one can cure him, +and that is yourself, my lady." + +"Ah, would to Heaven I could!" + +"Try _my_ way, and you will see, my lady." + +"What, _that_ way! Oh, no, no!" + +"Well, then, if you won't, nobody else can." + +Such speeches as these, often repeated, on the one hand, and Sir +Charles's melancholy on the other, drove Lady Bassett almost wild with +distress and perplexity. + +Meanwhile her vague fears of Richard Bassett were being gradually +realized. + +Bassett employed Wheeler to sound Dr. Willis as to his patient's +condition. + +Dr. Willis, true to the honorable traditions of his profession, would +tell him nothing. But Dr. Willis had a wife. She pumped him: and +Wheeler pumped her. + +By this channel Wheeler got a somewhat exaggerated account of Sir +Charles's state. He carried it to Bassett, and the pair put their heads +together. + +The consultation lasted all night, and finally a comprehensive plan of +action was settled. Wheeler stipulated that the law should not be +broken in the smallest particular, but only stretched. + +Four days after this conference Mr. Bassett, Mr. Wheeler, and two +spruce gentlemen dressed in black, sat upon the "Heir's Tower," +watching Huntercombe Hall. + +They watched, and watched, until they saw Mr. Angelo make his usual +daily call. + +Then they watched, and watched, until Lady Bassett and the young +clergyman came out and strolled together into the shrubbery. + +Then the two gentlemen went down the stairs, and were hastily conducted +by Bassett to Huntercombe Hall. + +They rang the bell, and the taller said, in a business-like voice, "Dr. +Mosely, from Dr. Willis." + +Mary Wells was sent for, and Dr. Mosely said, "Dr. Willis is unable to +come to-day, and has sent me." + +Mary Wells conducted him to the patient. The other gentleman followed. + +"Who is this?" said Mary. "I can't let all the world in to see him." + +"It is Mr. Donkyn, the surgeon. Dr. Willis wished the patient to be +examined with the stethoscope. You can stay outside, Mr. Donkyn." + +This new doctor announced himself to Sir Charles, felt his pulse, and +entered at once into conversation with him. + +Sir Charles was in a talking mood, and very soon said one or two +inconsecutive things. Dr. Mosely looked at Mary Wells and said he would +write a prescription. + +As soon as he had written it he said, very loud, "Mr. Donkyn!" + +The door instantly opened, and that worthy appeared on the threshold. + +"Oblige me," said the doctor to his confrere, "by seeing this +prescription made up; and you can examine the patient yourself; but do +not fatigue him." + +With this he retired swiftly, and strolled down the corridor, to wait +for his companion. + +He had not to wait long. Mr. Donkyn adopted a free and easy style with +Sir Charles, and that gentleman marked his sense of the indignity by +turning him out of the room, and kicking him industriously half-way +down the passage. + +Messrs. Mosely and Donkyn retired to Highmore. + +Bassett was particularly pleased at the baronet having kicked Donkyn; +so was Wheeler; so was Dr. Mosely. Donkyn alone did not share the +general enthusiasm. + +When Sir Charles had disposed of Mr. Donkyn he turned on Mary Wells, +and rated her soundly for bringing strangers into his room to gratify +their curiosity; and when Lady Bassett came in he made his formal +complaint, concluding with a proposal that one of two persons should +leave Huntercombe, forever, that afternoon--Mary Wells or Sir Charles +Bassett. + +Mary replied, not to him, but to her mistress, "He came from Dr. +Willis, my lady. It was Dr. Mosely; and the other gent was a surgeon." + +"Two medical men, sent by Dr. Willis?" said Lady Bassett, knitting her +brow with wonder and a shade of doubt. + +"A couple of her own sweethearts, sent by herself," suggested Sir +Charles. + +Lady Bassett sat down and wrote a hasty letter to Dr. Willis. "Send a +groom with it, as fast as he can ride," said she; and she was much +discomposed and nervous and impatient till the answer came bade. + +Dr. Willis came in person. "I sent no one to take my place," said he. +"I esteem my patient too highly to let any stranger prescribe for him +or even see him--for a few days to come." + +Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and her eloquent face filled with an +undefinable terror. + +Mary Wells, being on her defense, put in her word. "I am sure he was a +doctor; for he wrote a prescription, and here 'tis." + +Dr. Willis examined the prescription, with no friendly eye. + +"Acetate of morphia! The very worst thing that could be given him. This +is the favorite of the specialists. This fatal drug has eaten away a +thousand brains for one it has ever benefited." + +"Ah!" said Lady Bassett. "'Specialists!' what are they?" + +"Medical men, who confine their practice to one disease." + +"Mad-doctors, he means," said the patient, very gravely. + +Lady Bassett turned very pale. "Then those were mad-doctors." + +"Never you mind, Bella," said Sir Charles. "I kicked the fellow +handsomely." + +"I am sorry to hear it, Sir Charles." + +"Why?" + +Dr. Willis looked at Lady Bassett, as much as to say, "I shall not give +_him_ my real reason;" and then said, "I think it very undesirable you +should be excited and provoked, until your health is thoroughly +restored." + +Dr. Willis wrote a prescription, and retired. + +Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and trembled all over. Her divining fit +was on her; she saw the hand of the enemy, and filled with vague fears. + +Mary Wells tried to, comfort her. "I'll take care no more strangers get +in here," said she. "And, my lady, if you are afraid, why not have the +keepers, and two or three more, to sleep in the house? for, as for them +footmen, they be too soft to fight." + +"I will," said Lady Bassett; "but I fear it will be no use. Our enemy +has so many resources unknown to me. How can a poor woman fight with a +shadow, that comes in a moment and strikes; and then is gone and leaves +his victim trembling?" + +Then she slipped into the dressing-room and became hysterical, out of +her husband's sight and hearing. + +Mary Wells nursed her, and, when she was better, whispered in her ear, +"Lose no more time, then. Cure him. You know the way." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN the present condition of her mind these words produced a strange +effect on Lady Bassett. She quivered, and her eyes began to rove in +that peculiar way I have already noticed; and then she started up and +walked wildly to and fro; and then she kneeled down and prayed; and +then, alarmed, perplexed, exhausted, she went and leaned her head on +her patient's shoulder, and wept softly a long time. + +Some days passed, and no more strangers attempted to see Sir Charles. + +Lady Bassett was beginning to breathe again, when she was afflicted by +an unwelcome discovery. + +Mary Wells fainted away so suddenly that, but for Lady Bassett's quick +eye and ready hand, she would have fallen heavily. + +Lady Bassett laid her head down and loosened her stays, and discovered +her condition. She said nothing till the young woman was well, and then +she taxed her with it. + +Mary denied it plump; but, seeing her mistress's disgust at the +falsehood, she owned it with many tears. + +Being asked how she could so far forget herself, she told Lady Bassett +she had long been courted by a respectable young man; he had come to +the village, bound on a three years' voyage, to bid her good-by, and, +what with love and grief at parting, they had been betrayed into folly; +and now he was on the salt seas, little dreaming in what condition he +had left her: "and," said she, "before ever he can write to me, and I +to him, I shall be a ruined girl; that is why I wanted to put an end to +myself; I _will,_ too, unless I can find some way to hide it from the +world." + +Lady Bassett begged her to give up those desperate thoughts; she would +think what could be done for her. Lady Bassett could say no more to her +just then, for she was disgusted with her. + +But when she came to reflect that, after all, this was not a lady, and +that she appeared by her own account to be the victim of affection and +frailty rather than of vice, she made some excuses; and then the girl +had laid aside her trouble, her despair, and given her sorrowful mind +to nursing and comforting Sir Charles. This would have outweighed a +crime, and it made the wife's bowels yearn over the unfortunate girl. +"Mary," said she, "others must judge you; I am a wife, and can only see +your fidelity to my poor husband. I don't know what I shall do without +you, but I think it is my duty to send you to him if possible. You are +sure he really loves you?" + +"Me cross the seas after a young man?" said Mary Wells. "I'd as lieve +hang myself on the nighest tree and make an end. No, my lady, if you +are really my friend, let me stay here as long as I can--I will never +go downstairs to be seen--and then give me money enough to get my +trouble over unbeknown to my sister; she is all my fear. She is married +to a gentleman, and got plenty of money, and I shall never want while +she lives, and behave myself; but she would never forgive me if she +knew. She is a hard woman; she is not like you, my lady. I'd liever cut +my hand off than I'd trust her as I would you." + +Lady Bassett was not quite insensible to this compliment; but she felt +uneasy. + +"What, help you to deceive your sister?" + +"For her good. Why, if any one was to go and tell her about me now, +she'd hate them for telling her almost as much as she would hate me." + +Lady Bassett was sore perplexed. Unable to see quite clear in the +matter, she naturally reverted to her husband and his interest. That +dictated her course. She said, "Well, stay with us, Mary, as long as +you can; and then money shall not be wanting to hide your shame from +all the world; but I hope when the time comes you will alter your mind +and tell your sister. May I ask what her name is?" + +Mary, after a moment's hesitation, said her name was Marsh. + +"I know a Mrs. Marsh," said Lady Bassett; "but, of course, that is not +your sister. My Mrs. Marsh is rather fair." + +"So is my sister, for that matter." + +"And tall?" + +"Yes; but you never saw her. You'd never forget her it you had. She has +got eyes like a lion." + +"Ah! Does she ride?" + +"Oh, she is famous for that; and driving, and all." + +"Indeed! But no; I see no resemblance." + +"Oh, she is only my half-sister." + +"This is very strange." + +Lady Bassett put her hand to her brow, and thought. + +"Mary," said she, "all this is very mysterious. We are wading in deep +waters." + +Mary Wells had no idea what she meant. + +The day was not over yet. Just before dinner-time a fly from the +station drove to the door, and Mr. Oldfield got out. + +He was detained in the hall by sentinel Moss. + +Lady Bassett came down to him. At the very sight of him she trembled, +and said, "Richard Bassett?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Oldfield, "he is in the field again. He has been to the +Court of Chancery _ex parte,_ and obtained an injunction _ad interim_ +to stay waste. Not another tree must be cut down on the estate for the +present." + +"Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another tree shall be +felled on the grounds." + +"Of course not. But they will not stop there. If we do not move to +dissolve the injunction, I fear they will go on and ask the Court to +administer the estate, with a view to all interests concerned, +especially those of the heir at law and his son." + +"What, while my husband lives?" + +"If they can prove him dead in law." + +"I don't understand you, Mr. Oldfield." + +"They have got affidavits of two medical men that he is insane." + +Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand to her heart. + +"And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall of timber as a +further proof, and also as a reason why the Court should interfere to +protect the heir at law. Their case is well got up and very strong," +said Mr. Oldfield, regretfully. + +"Well, but you are a lawyer, and you have always beaten them hitherto." + +"I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. To be frank, Lady +Bassett, I don't see what I can do but watch the case, on the chance of +some error or illegality. It is very hard to fight a case when you +cannot put your client forward--and I suppose that would not be safe. +How unfortunate that you have no children!" + +"Children! How could they help us?" + +"What a question! How could Richard Bassett move the Court if he was +not the heir at law?" + +After a long conference Mr. Oldfield returned to town to see what he +could do in the way of procrastination, and Lady Bassett promised to +leave no stone unturned to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. +Oldfield was to write immediately if any fresh step was taken. + +When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady Bassett pondered every word he had +said, and, mild as she was, her rage began to rise against her +husband's relentless enemy. Her wits worked, her eyes roved in that +peculiar half-savage way I have described. She became intolerably +restless; and any one acquainted with her sex might see that some +strange conflict was going on in her troubled mind. + +Every now and then she would come and cling to her husband, and cry +over him; and that seemed to still the tumult of her soul a little. + +She never slept all that night, and next day, clinging in her helpless +agony to the nearest branch, she told Mary Wells what Bassett was +doing, and said, "What shall I do? He is not mad; but he is in so very +precarious a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they will +drive him mad indeed." + +"My lady," said Mary Wells, "I can't go from my word. 'Tis no use in +making two bites of a cherry. We must cure him: and if we don't, you'll +never rue it but once, and that will be all your life." + +"I should look on myself with horror afterward were I to deceive him +now." + +"No, my lady, you are too fond of him for that. Once you saw him happy +you'd be happy too, no matter how it came about. That Richard Bassett +will turn him out of this else. I am sure he will; he is a hard-hearted +villain." + +Lady Bassett's eyes flashed fire; then her eyes roved; then she sighed +deeply. + +Her powers of resistance were beginning to relax. As for Mary Wells, +she gave her no peace; she kept instilling her mind into her mistress's +with the pertinacity of a small but ever-dripping fount, and we know +both by science and poetry that small, incessant drops of water will +wear a hole in marble. + +"Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed saepe cadendo." + +And in the midst of all a letter came from Mr. Oldfield, to tell her +that Mr. Bassett threatened to take out a commission _de lunatico,_ and +she must prepare Sir Charles for an examination; for, if reported +insane, the Court would administer the estates; but the heir at law, +Mr. Bassett, would have the ear of the Court and the right of +application, and become virtually master of Huntercombe and Bassett; +and, perhaps, considering the spirit by which he was animated, would +contrive to occupy the very Hall itself. Lady Bassett was in the +dressing-room when she received this blow, and it drove her almost +frantic. She bemoaned her husband; she prayed God to take them both, +and let their enemy have his will. She wept and raved, and at the +height of her distress came from the other room a feeble cry, +"Childless! childless! childless!" + +Lady Bassett heard that, and in one moment, from violent she became +unnaturally and dangerously calm. She said firmly to Mary Wells, "This +is more than I can bear. You pretend you can save him--do it." + +Mary Wells now trembled in her turn; but she seized the opportunity. +"My lady, whatever I say you'll stand to?" + +"Whatever you say I'll stand to." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +MARY WELLS, like other uneducated women, was not accustomed to think +long and earnestly on any one subject; to use an expression she once +applied with far less justice to her sister, her mind was like running +water. + +But gestation affects the brains of such women, and makes them think +more steadily, and sometimes very acutely; added to which, the peculiar +dangers and difficulties that beset this girl during that anxious +period stimulated her wits to the very utmost. Often she sat quite +still for hours at a time, brooding and brooding, and asking herself +how she could turn each new and unexpected event to her own benefit. +Now so much does mental force depend on that exercise of keen and long +attention, in which her sex is generally deficient, that this young +woman's powers were more than doubled since the day she first +discovered her condition, and began to work her brains night and day +for her defense. + +Gradually, as events I have related unfolded themselves, she caught a +glimpse of this idea, that if she could get her mistress to have a +secret, her mistress would help her to keep her own. Hence her +insidious whispers, and her constant praises of Mr. Angelo, who, she +saw, was infatuated with Lady Bassett. Yet the designing creature was +actually fond of her mistress: and so strangely compounded is a heart +of this low kind that the extraordinary step she now took was half +affectionate impulse, half egotistical design. + +She made a motion with her hand inviting Lady Bassett to listen, and +stepped into Sir Charles's room. + +"Childless! childless! childless!" + +"Hush, sir," said Mary Wells. "Don't say so. We shan't be many mouths +without one, please Heaven." + +Sir Charles shook his head sadly. + +"Don't you believe me?" + +"No." + +"What, did ever I tell you a lie?" + +"No: but you are mistaken. She would have told me." + +"Well, sir, my lady is young and shy, and I think she is afraid of +disappointing you after all; for you know, sir, there's many a slip +'twixt the cup and the lip. But 'tis as I tell you, sir." + +Sir Charles was much agitated, and said he would give her a hundred +guineas if that was true. "Where is my darling wife? Why do I hear this +through a servant?" + +Mary Wells cast a look at the door, and said, for Lady Bassett to hear, +"She is receiving company. Now, sir, I have told you good news; will +you do something to oblige me? You shouldn't speak of it direct to my +lady just yet; and if you want all to go well, you mustn't vex my lady +as you are doing now. What I mean, you mustn't be so downhearted-- +there's no reason for't--and you mustn't coop yourself up on this +floor: it sets the folks talking, and worries my lady. You should give +her every chance, being the way she is." + +Sir Charles said eagerly he would not vex her for the world. "I'll walk +in the garden," said he; "but as for going abroad, you know I am not in +a fit condition yet; my mind is clouded." + +"Not as I see." + +"Oh, not always. But sometimes a cloud seems to get into my head; and +if I was in public I might do or say something discreditable. I would +rather die." + +"La, sir!" said Mary Wells, in a broad, hearty way--"a cloud in your +head! You've had a bad fall, and a fit at top on't, and no wonder your +poor head do ache at times. You'll outgrow that--if you take the air +and give over fretting about the t'other thing. I tell you you'll hear +the music of a child's voice and little feet a-pattering up and down +this here corridor before so very long--if so be you take my advice, +and leave off fretting my lady with fretting of yourself. You should +consider: she is too fond of you to be well when you be ill." + +"I'll get well for her sake," said Sir Charles, firmly. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mary Wells opened it so +that the servant could see nothing. + +"Mr. Angelo has called." + +"My lady will be down directly." + +Mary Wells then slipped into the dressing-room, and found Lady Bassett +looking pale and wild. She had heard every word. + +"There, he is better already," said Mary Wells. "He shall walk in the +garden with you this afternoon." + +"What have you done? I can't look him in the face now. Suppose he +speaks to me?" + +"He will not. I'll manage that. You won't have to say a word. Only +listen to what I say, and don't make a liar of me. He is better +already." + +"How will this end?" cried Lady Bassett, helplessly. "What shall I do?" + +"You must go downstairs, and not come here for an hour at least, or +you'll spoil my work. Mr. Angelo is in the drawing-room." + +"I will go to him." + +Lady Bassett slipped out by the other door, and it was three hours, +instead of one, before she returned. + +For the first time in her life she was afraid to face her husband. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +MEANTIME Mary Wells had a long conversation with her master; and after +that she retired into the adjoining room, and sat down to sew +baby-linen clandestinely. + +After a considerable tune Lady Bassett came in, and, sinking into a +chair, covered her face with her hands. She had her bonnet on. + +Mary Wells looked at her with black eyes that flashed triumph. + +After so surveying her for some time she said: "I have been at him +again, and there's a change for the better already. He is not the same +man. You go and see else." + +Lady Bassett now obeyed her servant: she rose and crept like a culprit +into Sir Charles's room. She found him clean shaved, dressed to +perfection, and looking more cheerful than she had seen him for many a +long day. "Ah, Bella," said he, "you have your bonnet on; let us have a +walk in the garden." + +Lady Bassett opened her eyes and consented eagerly, though she was very +tired. + +They walked together; and Sir Charles, being a man that never broke his +word, put no direct question to Lady Bassett, but spoke cheerfully of +the future, and told her she was his hope and his all; she would baffle +his enemy, and cheer his desolate hearth. + +She blushed, and looked confused and distressed; then he smiled, and +talked of indifferent matters, until a pain in his head stopped him; +then he became confused, and, putting his hand piteously to his head, +proposed to retire at once to his own room. + +Lady Bassett brought him in, and he reposed in silence on the sofa. + +The next day, and, indeed, many days afterward, presented similar +features. + +Mary Wells talked to her master of the bright days to come, of the joy +that would fill the house if all went well, and of the defeat in store +for Richard Bassett. She spoke of this man with strange virulence; said +"she would think no more of sticking a knife into him than of eating +her dinner;" and in saying this she showed the white of her eye in a +manner truly savage and vindictive. + +To hurt the same person is a surer bond than to love the same person; +and this sentiment of Mary Wells, coupled with her uniform kindness to +himself, gave her great influence with Sir Charles in his present +weakened condition. Moreover, the young woman had an oily, persuasive +tongue; and she who persuades us is stronger than he who convinces us. + +Thus influenced, Sir Charles walked every day in the garden with his +wife, and forbore all direct allusion to her condition, though his +conversation was redolent of it. + +He was still subject to sudden collapses of the intellect; but he +became conscious when they were coming on; and at the first warning he +would insist on burying himself in his room. + +After some days he consented to take short drives with Lady Bassett in +the open carriage. This made her very joyful. Sir Charles refused to +enter a single house, so high was his pride and so great his terror +lest he should expose himself; but it was a great point gained that she +could take him about the county, and show him in the character of a +mere invalid. + +Every thing now looked like a cure, slow, perhaps, but progressive; and +Lady Bassett had her joyful hours, yet not without a bitter alloy: her +divining mind asked itself what she should say and do when Sir Charles +should be quite recovered. This thought tormented her, and sometimes so +goaded her that she hated Mary Wells for her well-meant interference, +and, by a natural recoil from the familiarity circumstances had forced +on her, treated that young woman with great coldness and hauteur. + +The artful girl met this with extreme meekness and servility; the only +reply she ever hazarded was an adroit one; she would take this +opportunity to say, "How much better master do get ever since I took in +hand to cure him!" + +This oblique retort seldom failed. Lady Bassett would look at her +husband, and her face would clear; and she would generally end by +giving Mary a collar, or a scarf, or something. + +Thus did circumstances enable the lower nature to play with the higher. +Lady Bassett's struggles were like those of a bird in a silken net; +they led to nothing. When it came to the point she could neither do nor +say any thing to retard his cure. Any day the Court of Chancery, set in +motion by Richard Bassett, might issue a commission _de lunatico,_ and, +if Sir Charles was not cured by that time, Richard Bassett would +virtually administer the estate--so Mr. Oldfield had told her--and +that, she felt sure, would drive Sir Charles mad for life. + +So there was no help for it. She feared, she writhed, she hated +herself; but Sir Charles got better daily, and so she let herself drift +along. + +Mary Wells made it fatally easy to her. She was the agent. Lady Bassett +was silent and passive. + +After all she had a hope of extrication. Sir Charles once cured, she +would make him travel Europe with her. Money would relieve her of Mary +Wells, and distance cut all the other cords. + +And, indeed, a time came when she looked back on her present situation +with wonder at the distress it had caused her. "I was in shallow water +then," said she--"but now!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +SIR CHARLES observed that he was never trusted alone. He remarked this, +and inquired, with a peculiar eye, why that was. + +Lady Bassett had the tact to put on an innocent look and smile, and +say: "That is true, dearest. I _have_ tied you to my apron-string +without mercy. But it serves you right for having fits and frightening +me. You get well, and my tyranny will cease at once." + +However, after this she often left him alone in the garden, to remove +from his mind the notion that he was under restraint from her. + +Mr. Bassett observed this proceeding from his tower. + +One day Mr. Angelo called, and Lady Bassett left Sir Charles in the +garden, to go and speak to him. + +She had not been gone many minutes when a boy ran to Sir Charles, and +said, "Oh, sir, please come to the gate; the lady has had a fall, and +hurt herself." + +Sir Charles, much alarmed, followed the boy, who took him to a side +gate opening on the high-road. Sir Charles rushed through this, and was +passing between two stout fellows that stood one on each side the gate, +when they seized him, and lifted him in a moment into a close carriage +that was waiting on the spot. He struggled, and cried loudly for +assistance; but they bundled him in and sprang in after him; a third +man closed the door, and got up by the side of the coachman. He drove +off, avoiding the village, soon got upon a broad road, and bowled along +at a great rate, the carriage being light, and drawn by two powerful +horses. + +So cleverly and rapidly was it done that, but for a woman's quick ear, +the deed might not have been discovered for hours; but Mary Wells heard +the cry for help through an open window, recognized Sir Charles's +voice, and ran screaming downstairs to Lady Bassett: she ran wildly +out, with Mr. Angelo, to look for Sir Charles. He was nowhere to be +found. Then she ordered every horse in the stables to be saddled; and +she ran with Mary to the place where the cry had been heard. + +For some time no intelligence whatever could be gleaned; but at last an +old man was found who said he had heard somebody cry out, and soon +after that a carriage had come tearing by him, and gone round the +corner: but this direction was of little value, on account of the many +roads, any one of which it might have taken. + +However, it left no doubt that Sir Charles had been taken away from the +place by force. + +Terror-stricken, and pale as death, Lady Bassett never lost her head +for a moment. Indeed, she showed unexpected fire; she sent off coachman +and grooms to scour the country and rouse the gentry to help her; she +gave them money, and told them not to come back till they had found Sir +Charles. + +Mr. Angelo said, eagerly, "I'll go to the nearest magistrate, and we +will arrest Richard Bassett on suspicion." + +"God bless you, dear friend!" sobbed Lady Bassett. "Oh, yes, it is his +doing--murderer!" + +Off went Mr. Angelo on his errand. + +He was hardly gone when a man was seen running and shouting across the +fields. Lady Bassett went to meet him, surrounded by her humble +sympathizers. It was young Drake: he came up panting, with a +double-barreled gun in his hand (for he was allowed to shoot rabbits on +his own little farm), and stammered out, "Oh, my lady--Sir +Charles--they have carried him off against his will!" + +"Who? Where? Did you see him?" + +"Ay, and heerd him and all. I was ferreting rabbits by the side of the +turnpike-road yonder, and a carriage came tearing along, and Sir +Charles put out his head and cried to me,' Drake, they are kidnapping +me. Shoot!' But they pulled him back out of sight." + +"Oh, my poor husband! And did you let them? Oh!" + +"Couldn't catch 'em, my lady: so I did as I was bid; got to my gun as +quick as ever I could, and gave the coachman both barrels hot." + +"What, kill him?" + +"Lord, no; 'twas sixty yards off; but made him holler and squeak a good +un. Put thirty or forty shots into his back, I know." + +"Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I'll never forget that shot." Then she +began to cry. + +"Doant ye, my lady, doant ye," said the honest fellow, and was within +an ace of blubbering for sympathy. "We ain't a lot o' babies, to see +our squire kidnaped. If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a couple +o' nags, we'll catch them yet, my lady." + +"That we will," cried Abel. "You take me where you fired that shot, and +we'll follow the fresh wheel-tracks. They can't beat us while they keep +to a road." + +The two men were soon mounted, and in pursuit, amid the cheers of the +now excited villagers. But still the perpetrators of the outrage had +more than an hour's start; and an hour was twelve miles. + +And now Lady Bassett, who had borne up so bravely, was seized with a +deadly faintness, and supported into the house. + +All this spread like wild-fire, and roused the villagers, and they must +have a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. Bassett was to blame; and that +passed from one to another, and so fermented that, in the evening, a +crowd collected round Highmore House and demanded Mr. Bassett. + +The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at home. + +Then the men demanded boisterously what he had done with Sir Charles, +and threatened to break the windows unless they were told; and, as +nobody in the house could tell them, the women egged on the men, and +they did break the windows; but they no sooner saw their own work than +they were a little alarmed at it, and retired, talking very loud to +support their waning courage and check their rising remorse at their +deed. + +They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor little Mrs. +Bassett half dead with fright. + +As for Lady Bassett, she spent a horrible night of terror, suspense, +and agony. She could not lie down, nor even sit still; she walked +incessantly, wringing her hands, and groaning for news. + +Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it was a situation +beyond the power of words to alleviate. + +Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o'clock in the morning; and +then, in the still night, horses' feet came clattering up to the door. + +Lady Bassett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted by a single lamp. +The great door was opened, and in clattered Moss and Drake, splashed +and weary and downcast. + +"Well?" cried Lady Bassett, clasping her hands. + +"My lady," said Moss, "we tracked the carriage into the next county, to +a place thirty miles from here--to a lodge--and there they stopped us. +The place is well guarded with men and great big dogs. We heerd 'em +bark, didn't us, Will?" + +"Ay," said Drake, dejectedly. + +"The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. Says he, 'This is a +place nobody comes in but by law, and nobody goes out but by law. If +the gentleman is here you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough.'" + +"A prison? No!" + +"A 'sylum, my lady." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE lady put her hand to her heart, and was silent a long time. + +At last she said, doggedly but faintly, "You will go with me to that +place to-morrow, one of you." + +"I'll go, my lady," said Moss. "Will, here, had better not show his +face. They might take the law on him for that there shot." + +Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently cooled by discovering +that Sir Charles had been taken to a mad-house. + +Lady Bassett saw and sighed, and said she would take Moss to show her +the way. + +At eleven o'clock next morning a light carriage and pair came round to +the Hall gate, and a large basket, a portmanteau, and a bag were placed +on the roof under care of Moss; smaller packages were put inside; and +Lady Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black. + +They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The lodge-gate was open, +to Lady Bassett's surprise, and they drove through some pleasant +grounds to a large white house. + +The place at first sight had no distinctive character: great ingenuity +had been used to secure the inmates without seeming to incarcerate +them. There were no bars to the lower front windows, and the side +windows, with their defenses, were shrouded by shrubs. The sentinels +were out of sight, or employed on some occupation or other, but within +call. Some patients were playing at cricket; some ladies looking on; +others strolling on the gravel with a nurse, dressed very much like +themselves, who did not obtrude her functions unnecessarily. All was +apparent indifference, and Argus-eyed vigilance. So much for the +surface. + +Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked rooms had violent +and miserable inmates. + +The hall door opened as the carriage drew up; a respectable servant +came forward. + +Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, "I am come to see my +husband, sir." + +The man never moved a muscle, but said, "You must wait, if you please, +till I take your card in." + +He soon returned, and said, "Dr. Suaby is not here, but the gentleman +in charge will see you." + +Lady Bassett got out, and, beckoning Mary Wells, followed the servant +into a curious room, half library, half chemist's shop; they called it +"the laboratory." + +Here she found a tall man leaning on a dirty mantelpiece, who received +her stiffly. He had a pale mustache, very thin lips, and altogether a +severe manner. His head bald, rather prematurely, and whiskers +abundant. + +Lady Bassett looked him all over with one glance of her woman's eye, +and saw she had a hard and vain man to deal with. + +"Are you the gentleman to whom this house belongs?" she faltered. + +"No, madam; I am in charge during Dr. Suaby's absence." + +"That comes to the same thing. Sir, I am come to see my dear husband." + +"Have you an order?" + +"An order, sir? I am his wife." + +Mr. Salter shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, "I have no +authority to let any visitor see a patient without an order from the +person by whose authority he is placed here, or else an order from the +commissioners." + +"But that cannot apply to his wife; to her who is one with him, for +better for worse, in sickness or health." + +"It seems hard; but I have no discretion in the matter. The patient +only came yesterday--much excited. He is better to-day, and an +interview with you would excite him again." + +"Oh no! no! no! I can always soothe him. I will be so mild, so gentle. +You can be present, and hear every word I say. I will only kiss him, +and tell him who has done this, and to be brave, for his wife watches +over him; and, sir, I will beg him to be patient, and not blame you nor +any of the people here." + +"Very proper, very proper; but really this interview must be postponed +till you have an order, or Dr. Suaby returns. He can violate his own +rules if he likes; but I cannot, and, indeed, I dare not." + +"Dare not let a lady see her husband? Then you are not a man. Oh, can +this be England? It is too inhuman." + +Then she began to cry and wring her hands. + +"This is very painful," said Mr. Salter, and left the room. + +The respectable servant looked in soon after, and Lady Bassett told +him, between her sobs, that she had brought some clothes and things for +her husband. "Surely, sir," said she, "they will not refuse me that?" + +"Lord, no, ma'am," said the man. "You can give them to the keeper and +nurse in charge of him." + +Lady Bassett slipped a guinea into the man's hand directly. "Let me see +those people," said she. + +The man winked, and vanished: he soon reappeared, and said, loudly, +"Now, madam, if you will order the things into the hall." + +Lady Bassett came out and gave the order. + +A short, bull-necked man, and rather a pretty young woman with a +flaunting cap, bestirred themselves getting down the things; and Mr. +Salter came out and looked on. + +Lady Bassett called Mary Wells, and gave her a five-pound note to slip +into the man's hand. She telegraphed the girl, who instantly came near +her with an India rubber bath, and, affecting ignorance, asked her what +that was. + +Lady Bassett dropped three sovereigns into the bath, and said, "Ten +times, twenty times that, if you are kind to him. Tell him it is his +cousin's doing, but his wife watches over him." + +"All right," said the girl. "Come again when the doctor is here." + +All this passed, in swift whispers, a few yards from Mr. Salter, and he +now came forward and offered his arm to conduct Lady Bassett to the +carriage. + +But the wretched, heart-broken wife forgot her art of pleasing. She +shrank from him with a faint cry of aversion, and got into her carriage +unaided. Mary Wells followed her. + +Mr. Salter was unwilling to receive this rebuff. He followed, and said, +"The clothes shall be given, with any message you may think fit to +intrust to me." + +Lady Bassett turned away sharply from him, and said to Mary Wells, +"Tell him to drive home. Home! I have none now. Its light is torn from +me." + +The carriage drove away as she uttered these piteous words. + +She cried at intervals all the way home; and could hardly drag herself +upstairs to bed. + +Mr. Angelo called next day with bad news. Not a magistrate would move a +finger against Mr. Bassett: he had the law on his side. Sir Charles was +evidently insane; it was quite proper he should be put in security +before he did some mischief to himself or Lady Bassett. "They say, why +was he hidden for two months, if there was not something very wrong?" + +Lady Bassett ordered the carriage and paid several calls, to counteract +this fatal impression. + +She found, to her horror, she might as well try to move a rock. There +was plenty of kindness and pity; but the moment she began to assure +them her husband was not insane she was met with the dead silence of +polite incredulity. One or two old friends went further, and said, "My +dear, we are told he could not be taken away without two doctors' +certificates: now, consider, they must know better than you. Have +patience, and let them cure him." + +Lady Bassett withdrew her friendship on the spot from two ladies for +contradicting her on such a subject; she returned home almost wild +herself. + +In the village her carriage was stopped by a woman with her hair all +flying, who told her, in a lamentable voice, that Squire Bassett had +sent nine men to prison for taking Sir Charles's part and ill-treating +his captors. + +"My lawyer shall defend them at my expense," said Lady Bassett, with a +sigh. + +At last she got home, and went up to her own room, and there was Mary +Wells waiting to dress her. + +She tottered in, and sank into a chair. But, after this temporary +exhaustion, came a rising tempest of passion; her eyes roved, her +fingers worked, and her heart seemed to come out of her in words of +fire. "I have not a friend in all the county. That villain has only to +say 'Mad,' and all turn from me, as if an angel of truth had said +'Criminal.' We have no friend but one, and she is my servant. Now go +and envy wealth and titles. No wife in this parish is so poor as I; +powerless in the folds of a serpent. I can't see my husband without an +order from _him._ He is all power, I and mine all weakness." She raised +her clinched fists, she clutched her beautiful hair as if she would +tear it out by the roots. "I shall, go mad! I shall go mad! No!" said +she, all of a sudden. "That will not do. That is what he wants--and +then my darling _would_ be defenseless. I will not go mad." Then +suddenly grinding her white teeth: "I'll teach him to drive a lady to +despair. I'll fight." + +She descended, almost without a break, from the fury of a Pythoness to +a strange calm. Oh! then it is her sex are dangerous. + +"Don't look so pale," said she, and she actually smiled. "All is fair +against so foul a villain. You and I will defeat him. Dress me, Mary." + +Mary Wells, carried away by the unusual violence of a superior mind, +was quite bewildered. + +Lady Bassett smiled a strange smile, and said, "I'll show you how to +dress me;" and she did give her a lesson that astonished her. + +"And now," said Lady Bassett, "I shall dress you." And she took a loose +full dress out of her wardrobe, and made Mary Wells put it on; but +first she inserted some stuffing so adroitly that Mary seemed very +buxom, but what she wished to hide was hidden. Not so Lady Bassett +herself. Her figure looked much rounder than in the last dress she +wore. + +With all this she was late for dinner, and when she went down Mr. +Angelo had just finished telling Mr. Oldfield of the mishap to the +villagers. + +Lady Bassett came in animated and beautiful. + +Dinner was announced directly, and a commonplace conversation kept up +till the servants were got rid of. She then told Mr. Oldfield how she +had been refused admittance to Sir Charles at Bellevue House, a plain +proof, to her mind, they knew her husband was not insane; and begged +him to act with energy, and get Sir Charles out before his reason could +be permanently injured by the outrage and the horror of his situation. + +This led to a discussion, in which Mr. Angelo and Lady Bassett threw +out various suggestions, and Mr. Oldfield cooled their ardor with sound +objections. He was familiar with the Statutes de Lunatico, and said +they had been strictly observed both in the capture of Sir Charles and +in Mr. Salter's refusal to let the wife see the husband. In short, he +appeared either unable or unwilling to see anything except the strong +legal position of the adverse party. + +Mr. Oldfield was one of those prudent lawyers who search for the +adversary's strong points, that their clients may not be taken by +surprise; and that is very wise of them. But wise things require to be +done wisely: he sometimes carried this system so far as to discourage +his client too much. It is a fine thing to make your client think his +case the weaker of the two, and then win it for him easily; that +gratifies your own foible, professional vanity. But suppose, with your +discouraging him so, he flings up or compromises a winning case? +Suppose he takes the huff and goes to some other lawyer, who will warm +him with hopes instead of cooling him with a one-sided and hostile view +of his case? + +In the present discussion Mr. Oldfield's habit of beginning by admiring +his adversaries, together with his knowledge of law and little else, +and his secret conviction that Sir Charles was unsound of mind, +combined to paralyze him; and, not being a man of invention, he could +not see his way out of the wood at all; he could negative Mr. Angelo's +suggestions and give good reasons, but he could not, or did not, +suggest anything better to be done. + +Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a bitter smile, and +said, at last, with a sigh: "It seems, then, we are to sit quiet and do +nothing, while Mr. Bassett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow. +There! I'll fight my own battle; and do you try and find some way of +defending the poor souls that are in trouble because they did not sit +with their hands before them when their benefactor was outraged. +Command my purse, if money will save them from prison." + +Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelopard all down the +room on the side opposite to Mr. Oldfield. Angelo flew to open the +door, and in a whisper begged a word with her in private. She bowed +ascent, and passed on from the room. + +"What a fine creature!" said Mr. Oldfield. "How she walks!" + +Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what was to be done for +the poor men: "they will be up before the Bench to-morrow." + +Stung a little by Lady Bassett's remark, Mr. Oldfield answered, +promptly, "We must get some tradesmen to bail them with our money. It +will only be a few pounds apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shall +offer pecuniary compensation, and get up a defense; find somebody to +swear Sir Charles was sane--that sort of evidence is always to be got. +Counsel must do the rest. Simple natives--benefactor outraged--honest +impulse--regretted, the moment they understood the capture had been +legally made. Then throw dirt on the plaintiff. He is malicious, and +can be proved to have forsworn himself in Bassett _v._ Bassett." + +A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. "If you please, sir, +my lady is tired, and she wishes to say a word to you before she goes +upstairs." + +"Excuse me one minute," said Mr. Angelo, and followed Mary Wells. She +ushered him into a boudoir, where he found Lady Bassett seated in an +armchair, with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on the +carpet. + +She smiled faintly, and said, "Well, what do you wish to say to me?" + +"It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent." + +"I don't know. I snubbed him, poor man: but if the law is all against +us!" + +"How does he know that? He assumes it because he is prejudiced in favor +of the enemy. How does he _know_ they have done _everything_ the Act of +Parliament requires? And, if they have, Law is not invincible. When Law +defies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled on in all civilized +communities." + +"I never heard that before." + +"But you would if you had been at Oxford," said he, smiling. + +"Ah!" + +"What we want is a man of genius, of invention; a man who will see +every chance, take every chance, lawful or unlawful, and fight with all +manner of weapons." + +Lady Bassett's eye flashed a moment. "Ah!" said she; "but where can I +find such a man, with knowledge to guide his zeal?" + +"I think I know of a man who could at all events advise you, if you +would ask him." + +"Ah! Who?" + +"He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he has +talent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing is +certain--his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he is +in earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out of +confinement." + +"Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once." + +"He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send an +outline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can advise +you in the matter?" + +"You may; and thank you a thousand times!" + +"A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surely +throw some light." + +"One would think so, dear friend." + +"I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhaps +get an answer the day after to-morrow." + +"Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. A +writer, did you say? What does he write?" + +"Fiction." + +"What, novels?" + +"And dramas and all." + +Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. "I should never think of going to +Fiction for wisdom." + +"When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the +consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation +saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that +one wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction." + +"Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me. +One swallow does not make summer, for all that." + +"But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they are +works of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as a +novelist." + +"Oh, if he is a lawyer!" + +"Then I may write?" + +"Yes," said Lady Bassett, despondingly. + +"What is to become of Oldfield?" + +"Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him for +another hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come and +relieve me of Mr. Negative." + +She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr. +Oldfield found her very cold company. + +In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and very +handsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him. + +This done she bade the gentlemen goodnight, and went to her room. Here +she found Mary Wells full of curiosity to know whether the lawyer would +get Sir Charles out of the asylum. + +Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said nothing was to be +expected from such a Nullity. "Mary, he could not see. I gave him every +opportunity. I walked slowly down the room before him after dinner; and +I came into the drawing-room and moved about, and yet he could not +see." + +"Then you will have to tell him, that is all." + +"Never; no more shall you. I'll not trust my fate, and Sir Charles's, +to a man that has no eyes." + +For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor Oldfield; but to +Mr. Angelo she suppressed the real reason, and entered into that ardent +gentleman's grounds of discontent, though these alone would not have +entirely dissolved her respect for the family solicitor. + +Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress and ire. "Beaten! +beaten! and all through our adversaries having more talent. Mr. Bassett +did not appear at first. Wheeler excused him on the ground that his +wife was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett's servants were +called, and swore to the damage and to the men, all but one. He got +off. Then Oldfield made a dry speech; and a tradesman he had prepared +offered bail. The magistrates were consulting, when in burst Mr. +Bassett all in black, and made a speech fifty times stronger than +Oldfield's, and sobbed, and told them the rioters had frightened his +wife so she had been prematurely confined, and the child was dead. +Could they take bail for a riot, a dastardly attack by a mob of cowards +on a poor defenseless woman, the gentlest and most inoffensive creature +in England? Then he went on: 'They were told I was not in the house; +and then they found courage to fling stones, to terrify my wife and +kill my child. Poor soul!' he said, 'she lies between life and death +herself: and I come here in an agony of fear, but I come for justice; +the man of straw, who offers bail, is furnished with the money by those +who stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and teach these cowards +who war on defenseless ladies that there is humanity and justice and +law in the land.' Then Oldfield tried to answer him with his hems and +his haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and swept him away." + +"Poor woman!" + +"Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too little of her. But +you suffer, and so must she. It is the most terrible feud; one would +think this was Corsica instead of England, only the fighting is not +done with daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Oldfield. +We were all carried away at first; but, now I think of it, Bassett must +have been in the court, and held back to make the climax. Oh, yes! it +was another surprise and another success. They are all sent to jail. +Superior generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, we should have had +eight wives crying for pity, each with one child in her arms, and +another holding on to her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss that +Nullity." + +"Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles's lawyer; but I have promised +you to seek advice elsewhere, and so I will." + +The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the church-bell. + +The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned pale. + +"I must leave you," said Angelo, regretfully. "I have to bury Mr. +Bassett's little boy; he lived an hour." + +Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll. + +Strange, sad thoughts passed through her mind. "Is it saddest when it +tolls, or when it rings--that bell? He has killed his own child by +robbing me of my husband. We are in the hands of God, after all, let +Wheeler be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple.--And I am not +acting by that.--Where is my trust in God's justice?--Oh, thou of +little faith!--What shall I do? Love is stronger in me than +faith--stronger than anything in heaven or earth. God forgive me--God +help me--I will go back. + +"But oh, to stand still, and be good and simple, and to see my husband +trampled on by a cunning villain! + +"Why is there a future state, where everything is to be different? no +hate; no injustice; all love. Why is it not all of a piece? Why begin +wrong if it is to end all right? If I was omnipotent it should be right +from the first.--Oh, thou of little faith!--Ah, me! it is hard to see +fools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh, that I could shut my +eyes in faith and go to sleep, and drift on the right path; for I shall +never take it with my eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him." + +Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, and the tears +welled through them: they knew the way by this time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +NEXT morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing cheeks and sparkling +eyes. + +"I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend called on Mr. +Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he replies direct to me. May I read +you his letter?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"'DEAR SIR--The case you have sent me, of a gentleman confined on +certificates by order of an interested relative--as you presume, for +you have not seen the order--and on grounds you think insufficient, is +interesting, and some of it looks true; but there are gaps in the +statement, and I dare not advise in so nice a matter till these are +filled; but that, I suspect, can only be done by the lady herself. She +had better call on me in person; it may be worth her while. At home +every day, 10--3, this week. As for yourself, you need not address me +through Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterward stroke in +the University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth Harbor, and saved a +sailor. See "Ryde Journal," Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; cited in my Day-book +Aug. 10, and also in my Index hominum, in voce "Angelo"--_ha! ha! +here's a fellow for detail!_ + +"Yours very truly, + +"'ROLFE.'" + + + +"And did you?" + +"Did I what?" + +"Dive and save a sailor." + +"No; I nailed him just as he was sinking." + +"How good and brave you are!" + +Angelo blushed like a girl. "It makes me too happy to hear such words +from you. But I vote we don't talk about me. Will you call on Mr. +Rolfe?" + +"Is he married?" + +Angelo opened his eyes at the question. "I think not," said he. +"Indeed, I know he is not." + +"Could you get him down here?" + +Angelo shook his head. "If he knew you, perhaps; but can you expect him +to come here upon your business? These popular writers are spoiled by +the ladies. I doubt if he would walk across the street to advise a +stranger. Candidly, why should he?" + +"No; and it was ridiculous vanity to suppose he would. But I never +called on a gentleman in my life." + +"Take me with you. You can go up at nine, and be back to a late +dinner." + +"I shall never have the courage to go. Let me have his letter." + +He gave her the letter, and she took it away. + +At six o'clock she sent Mary Wells to Mr. Angelo, with a note to say +she had studied Mr. Rolfe's letter, and there was more in it than she +had thought; but his going off from her husband to boat-racing seemed +trivial, and she could not make up her mind to go to London to consult +a novelist on such a serious matter. + +At nine she sent to say she should go, but could not think of dragging +him there: she should take her maid. + +Before eleven, she half repented this resolution, but her maid kept her +to it; and at half past twelve next day they reached Mr. Rolfe's door; +an old-fashioned, mean-looking house, in one of the briskest +thoroughfares of the metropolis; a cabstand opposite to the door, and a +tide of omnibuses passing it. + +Lady Bassett viewed the place discontentedly, and said to herself, +"What a poky little place for a writer to live in; how noisy, how +unpoetical!" + +They knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid-servant. + +"Is Mr. Rolfe at home?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Please give me your card, and write the business." + +Lady Bassett took out her card and wrote a line or two on the back of +it. The maid glanced at it, and showed her into a room, while she took +the card to her master. + +The room was rather long, low, and nondescript; scarlet flock paper; +curtains and sofas green Utrecht velvet; woodwork and pillars white and +gold; two windows looking on the street; at the other end folding-doors +with scarcely any wood-work, all plate-glass, but partly hidden by +heavy curtains of the same color and material as the others. Accustomed +to large, lofty rooms, Lady Bassett felt herself in a long box here; +but the colors pleased her. She said to Mary Wells, "What a funny, cozy +little place for a gentleman to live in!" + +Mr. Rolfe was engaged with some one, and she was kept waiting; this was +quite new to her, and discouraged her, already intimidated by the +novelty of the situation. + +She tried to encourage herself by saying it was for her husband she did +this unusual thing; but she felt very miserable and inclined to cry. + +At last a bell rang; the maid came in and invited Lady Bassett to +follow her. She opened the glass folding-doors, and took them into a +small conservatory, walled like a grotto, with ferns sprouting out of +rocky fissures, and spars sparkling, water dripping. Then she opened +two more glass folding-doors, and ushered them into an empty room, the +like of which Lady Bassett had never seen; it was large in itself, and +multiplied tenfold by great mirrors from floor to ceiling, with no +frames but a narrow oak beading; opposite her, on entering, was a +bay-window all plate-glass, the central panes of which opened, like +doors, upon a pretty little garden that glowed with color, and was +backed by fine trees belonging to the nation; for this garden ran up to +the wall of Hyde Park. + +The numerous and large mirrors all down to the ground laid hold of the +garden and the flowers, and by double and treble reflection filled the +room with delightful nooks of verdure and color. + +To confuse the eye still more, a quantity of young India-rubber trees, +with glossy leaves, were placed before the large central mirror. The +carpet was a warm velvet-pile, the walls were distempered, a French +gray, not cold, but with a tint of mauve that gave a warm and cheering +bloom; this soothing color gave great effect to the one or two +masterpieces of painting that hung on the walls and to the gilt frames; +the furniture, oak and marqueterie highly polished; the curtains, +scarlet merino, through which the sun shone, and, being a London sun, +diffused a mild rosy tint favorable to female faces. Not a sound of +London could be heard. + +So far the room was romantic; but there was a prosaic corner to shock +those who fancy that fiction is the spontaneous overflow of a poetic +fountain fed by nature only; between the fireplace and the window, and +within a foot or two of the wall, stood a gigantic writing-table, with +the signs of hard labor on it, and of severe system. Three plated +buckets, each containing three pints, full of letters to be answered, +other letters to be pasted into a classified guard-book, loose notes to +be pasted into various books and classified (for this writer used to +sneer at the learned men who say, "I will look among my papers for it;" +he held that every written scrap ought either to be burned, or pasted +into a classified guard-book, where it could be found by consulting the +index); five things like bankers' bill-books, into whose several +compartments MS. notes and newspaper cuttings were thrown, as a +preliminary toward classification in books. + +Underneath the table was a formidable array of note-books, standing +upright, and labeled on their backs. There were about twenty large +folios of classified facts, ideas, and pictures--for the very wood-cuts +were all indexed and classified on the plan of a tradesman's ledger; +there was also the receipt-book of the year, treated on the same plan. +Receipts on a file would not do for this romantic creature. If a +tradesman brought a bill, he must be able to turn to that tradesman's +name in a book, and prove in a moment whether it had been paid or not. +Then there was a collection of solid quartos, and of smaller folio +guard-books called Indexes. There was "Index rerum et journalium"-- +"Index rerum et librorum,"--"Index rerum et hominum," and a lot more; +indeed, so many that, by way of climax, there was a fat folio ledger +entitled "Index ad Indices." + +By the side of the table were six or seven thick pasteboard cards, each +about the size of a large portfolio, and on these the author's notes +and extracts were collected from all his repertories into something +like a focus for a present purpose. He was writing a novel based on +facts; facts, incidents, living dialogue, pictures, reflections, +situations, were all on these cards to choose from, and arranged in +headed columns; and some portions of the work he was writing on this +basis of imagination and drudgery lay on the table in two forms, his +own writing, and his secretary's copy thereof, the latter corrected for +the press. This copy was half margin, and so provided for additions and +improvements; but for one addition there were ten excisions, great and +small. Lady Bassett had just time to take in the beauty and artistic +character of the place, and to realize the appalling drudgery that +stamped it a workshop, when the author, who had dashed into his garden +for a moment's recreation, came to the window, and furnished contrast +No. 3. For he looked neither like a poet nor a drudge, but a great fat +country farmer. He was rather tall, very portly, smallish head, +commonplace features mild brown eye not very bright, short beard, and +wore a suit of tweed all one color. Such looked the writer of romances +founded on fact. He rolled up to the window--for, if he looked like a +farmer, he walked like a sailor--and stepped into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +MR. ROLFE surveyed the two women with a mild, inoffensive, ox-like +gaze, and invited them to be seated with homely civility. + +He sat down at his desk, and turning to Lady Bassett, said, rather +dreamily, "One moment, please: let me look at the case and my notes." + +First his homely appearance, and now a certain languor about his +manner, discouraged Lady Bassett more than it need; for all artists +must pay for their excitements with occasional languor. Her hands +trembled, and she began to gulp and try not to cry. + +Mr. Rolfe observed directly, and said, rather kindly, "You are +agitated; and no wonder." + +He then opened a sort of china closet, poured a few drops of a +colorless liquid from a tiny bottle into a wine-glass, and filled the +glass with water from a filter. "Drink that, if you please." + +She looked at him with her eyes brimming. _"Must_ I?" + +"Yes; it will do you good for once in a way. It is only Ignatia." + +She drank it by degrees, and a tear along with it that fell into the +glass. + +Meantime Mr. Rolfe had returned to his notes and examined them. He then +addressed her, half stiffly, half kindly: + +"Lady Bassett, whatever may be your husband's condition--whether his +illness is mental or bodily, or a mixture of the two--his clandestine +examination by bought physicians, and his violent capture, the natural +effect of which must have been to excite him and retard his cure, were +wicked and barbarous acts, contrary to God's law and the common law of +England, and, indeed, to all human law except our shallow, incautious +Statutes de Lunatico: they were an insult to yourself, who ought at +least to have been consulted, for your rights are higher and purer than +Richard Bassett's; therefore, as a wife bereaved of your husband by +fraud and violence and the bare letter of a paltry statute whose spirit +has been violated, you are quite justified in coming to me or to any +public man you think can help your husband and you." Then, with a +certain _bonhomie,_ "So lay aside your nervousness; let us go into this +matter sensibly, like a big man and a little man, or like an old woman +and a young woman, whichever you prefer." + +Lady Bassett looked at him and smiled assent. She felt a great deal +more at her ease after this opening. + +"I dare not advise you yet. I must know more than Mr. Angelo has told +me. Will you answer my questions frankly?" + +"I will try, sir." + +"Whose idea was it confining Sir Charles Bassett to the house so much?" + +"His own. He felt himself unfit for society." + +"Did he describe his ailment to you then?" + +"Yes." + +"All the better; what did he say?" + +"He said that, at times, a cloud seemed to come into his head, and then +he lost all power of mind; and he could not bear to be seen in that +condition." + +"This was after the epileptic seizure?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Humph! Now will you tell me how Mr. Bassett, by mere words, could so +enrage Sir Charles as to give him a fit?" + +Lady Bassett hesitated. + +"What did he say to Sir Charles?" + +"He did not speak to him. His child and nurse were there, and he called +out loud, for Sir Charles to hear, and told the nurse to hold up his +child to look at his inheritance." + +"Malicious fool! But did this enrage Sir Charles so much as to give him +a fit?" + +"Yes." + +"He must be very sensitive." + +"On that subject." + +Mr. Rolfe was silent; and now, for the first time, appeared to think +intently. + +His study bore fruit, apparently; for he turned to Lady Bassett and +said, suddenly, "What is the strangest thing Sir Charles has said of +late--the very strangest?" + +Lady Bassett turned red, and then pale, and made no reply. + +Mr. Rolfe rose and walked up to Mary Wells. + +"What is the maddest thing your master has ever said?" + +Mary Wells, instead of replying, looked at her mistress. + +The writer instantly put his great body between them. "Come, none of +that," said he. "I don't want a falsehood--I want the truth." + +"La, sir, I don't know. My master he is not mad, I'm sure. The queerest +thing he ever said was--he did say at one time 'twas writ on his face +as he had no children." + +"Ah! And that is why he would not go abroad, perhaps." + +"That was one reason, sir, I do suppose." Mr. Rolfe put his hands +behind his back and walked thoughtfully and rather disconsolately back +to his seat. + +"Humph!" said he. Then, after a pause, "Well, well; I know the worst +now; that is one comfort. Lady Bassett, you really must be candid with +me. Consider: good advice is like a tight glove; it fits the +circumstances, and it does not fit other circumstances. No man advises +so badly on a false and partial statement as I do, for the very reason +that my advice is a close fit. Even now I can't understand Sir +Charles's despair of having children of his own." + +The writer then turned his looks on the two women, with an entire +absence of expression; the sense of his eyes was turned inward, though +the orbs were directed toward his visitors. + +With this lack-luster gaze, and in the tone of thoughtful soliloquy, he +said, "Has Sir Charles Bassett no eyes? and are there women so furtive, +so secret, or so bashful, they do not tell their husbands?" + +Lady Bassett turned with a scared look to Mary Wells, and that young +woman showed her usual readiness. She actually came to Mr. Rolfe and +half whispered to him, "If you please, sir, gentlemen are blind, and my +lady she is very bashful; but Sir Charles knows it now; he have known +it a good while; and it was a great comfort to him; he was getting +better, sir, when the villains took him--ever so much better." + +This solution silenced Mr. Rolfe, though it did not quite satisfy him. +He fastened on Mary Wells's last statement. "Now tell me: between the +day when those two doctors got into his apartment and the day of his +capture, how long?" + +"About a fortnight." + +"And in that particular fortnight was there a marked improvement?" + +"La, yes, sir; was there not, my lady?" + +"Indeed there was, sir. He was beginning to take walks with me in the +garden, and rides in an open carriage. He was getting better every day; +and oh, sir, that is what breaks my heart! I was curing my darling so +fast, and now they will do all they can to destroy him. Their not +letting his wife see him terrifies me." + +"I think I can explain that. Now tell me--what time do you expect--a +certain event?" + +Lady Bassett blushed and cast a hasty glance at the speaker; but he had +a piece of paper before him, and was preparing to take down her reply, +with the innocent face of a man who had asked a simple and necessary +question in the way of business. + +Then Lady Bassett looked at Mary Wells, and this look Mr. Rolfe +surprised, because he himself looked up to see why the lady hesitated. + +After an expressive glance between the mistress and maid, the lady +said, almost inaudibly, "More than three months;" and then she blushed +all over. + +Mr. Rolfe looked at the two women a moment, and seemed a little puzzled +at their telegraphing each other on such a subject; but he coolly noted +down Lady Bassett's reply on a card about the size of a foolscap sheet, +and then set himself to write on the same card the other facts he had +elicited. + +While he was doing this very slowly, with great care and pains, the +lady was eying him like a zoologist studying some new animal. The +simplicity and straightforwardness of his last question won by degrees +upon her judgment and reconciled her to her Inquisitor, the more so as +he was quiet but intense, and his whole soul in her case. She began to +respect his simple straightforwardness, his civility without a grain of +gallantry, and his caution in eliciting all the facts before he would +advise. + +After he had written down his synopsis, looking all the time as if his +life depended on its correctness, he leaned back, and his ordinary but +mobile countenance was transfigured into geniality. + +"Come," said he, "grandmamma has pestered you with questions enough; +now you retort--ask me anything--speak your mind: these things should +be attacked in every form, and sifted with every sieve." + +Lady Bassett hesitated a moment, but at last responded to this +invitation. + +"Sir, one thing that discourages me cruelly--my solicitor seems so +inferior to Mr. Bassett's. He can think of nothing but objections; and +so he does nothing, and lets us be trampled on: it is his being unable +to cope with Mr. Bassett's solicitor, Mr. Wheeler, that has led me in +my deep distress to trouble you, whom I had not the honor of knowing." + +"I understand your ladyship perfectly. Mr. Oldfield is a respectable +solicitor, and Wheeler is a sharp country practitioner; and--to use my +favorite Americanism--you feel like fighting with a blunt knife against +a sharp one." + +"That is my feeling, sir, and it drives me almost wild sometimes." + +"For your comfort, then, in my earlier litigations--I have had sixteen +lawsuits for myself and other oppressed people--I had often that very +impression; but the result always corrected it. Legal battles are like +other battles: first you have a skirmish or two, and then a great +battle in court. Now sharp attorneys are very apt to win the skirmish +and lose the battle. I see a general of this stamp in Mr. Wheeler, and +you need not fear him much. Of course an antagonist is never to be +despised; but I would rather have Wheeler against you than Oldfield. An +honest man like Oldfield blunders into wisdom, the Lord knows how. Your +Wheelers seldom get beyond cunning; and cunning does not see far enough +to cope with men of real sagacity and forethought in matters so +complicated as this. Oldfield, acting for Bassett, would have pushed +rapidly on to an examination by the court. You would have evaded it, +and put yourself in the wrong; and the inquiry, well urged, might have +been adverse to Sir Charles. Wheeler has taken a more cunning and +violent course--it strikes more terror, does more immediate harm; but +what does it lead to? Very little; and it disarms them of their +sharpest weapon, the immediate inquiry; for we could now delay and +greatly prejudice an inquiry on the very ground of the outrage and +unnecessary violence; and could demand time to get the patient as well +as he was before the outrage. And, indeed, the court is very jealous of +those who begin by going to a judge, and then alter their minds, and +try to dispose of the case themselves. And to make matters worse, here +they do it by straining an Act of Parliament opposed to equity." + +"I wish it may prove so, sir; but, meantime, Mr. Wheeler is active, Mr. +Oldfield is passive. He has not an idea. He is a mere negative." + +"Ah, that is because he is out of his groove. A smattering of law is +not enough here. It wants a smattering of human nature too." + +"Then, sir, would you advise me to part with Mr. Oldfield?" + +"No. Why make an enemy? Besides, he is the vehicle of communication +with the other side. You must simply ignore him for a time." + +"But is there nothing I can do, sir? for it is this cruel inactivity +that kills me. Pray advise me--you know all now." + +Mr. Rolfe, thus challenged, begged for a moment's delay. + +"Let us be silent a minute," said he, "and think hard." + +And, to judge by his face, he did think with great intensity. + + + +"Lady Bassett," said he, very gravely, "I assume that every fact you +and Mr. Angelo have laid before me is true, and no vital part is kept +back. Well, then, your present course is--Delay. Not the weak delay of +those who procrastinate what cannot be avoided; but the wise delay of a +general who can bring up overpowering forces, only give him time. +Understand me, there is more than one game on the cards; but I prefer +the surest. We could begin fighting openly to-morrow; but that would be +risking too much for too little. The law's delay, the insolence of +office, the up-hill and thorny way, would hurt Sir Charles's mind at +present. The apathy, the cruelty, the trickery, the routine, the hot +and cold fits of hope and fear, would poison your blood, and perhaps +lose Sir Charles the heir he pines for. Besides, if we give battle +to-day we fight the heir at law; but in three or four months we may +have him on our side, and trustees appointed by you. By that time, too, +Sir Charles will have got over that abominable capture, and be better +than he was a week ago, constantly soothed and consoled--as he will +be--by the hope of offspring. When the right time comes, that moment we +strike, and with a sledge-hammer. No letters to the commissioners then, +no petitioning Chancery to send a jury into the asylum, stronghold of +prejudice. I will cut your husband in two. Don't be alarmed. I will +merely give him, with your help, an _alter ego,_ who shall effect his +liberation and ruin Richard Bassett--ruin him in damages and costs, and +drive him out of the country, perhaps. Meantime you are not to be a lay +figure, or a mere negative." + +"Oh, sir, I am so glad of that!" + +"Far from that: you will act defensively. Mr. Bassett has one chance; +you must be the person to extinguish it. Injudicious treatment in the +asylum might retard Sir Charles's cure; their leeches and their +sedatives, administered by sucking apothecaries, who reason it _a +priori,_ instead of watching the effect of these things on the patient, +might seriously injure your husband, for his disorder is connected with +a weak circulation of blood in the vessels of the brain. We must +therefore guard against that at once. To work, then. Who keeps this +famous asylum?" + +"Dr. Suaby." + +"Suaby? I know that name. He has been here, I think. I must look in my +Index rerum et hominum. Suaby? Not down. Try Asyla.--Asyla; 'Suaby: see +letter-book for the year--, p. 368.' An old letter-book. I must go +elsewhere for that." + +He went out, and after some time returned with a folio letter-book. + +"Here are two letters to me from Dr. Suaby, detailing his system and +inviting me to spend a week at his asylum. Come, come; Sir Charles is +with a man who does not fear inspection; for at this date I was bitter +against private asylums--rather indiscriminately so, I fear. Stay! he +visited me; I thought so. Here's a description of him: 'A pale, +thoughtful man, with a remarkably mild eye: is against restraint of +lunatics, and against all punishment of them--Quixotically so. Being +cross-examined, declares that if a patient gave him a black eye he +would not let a keeper handle him roughly, being irresponsible.' No +more would I, if I could give him a good licking myself. Please study +these two letters closely; you may get a clew how to deal with the +amiable writer in person." + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Rolfe," said Lady Bassett, flushing all over. She +was so transported at having something to do. She quietly devoured the +letters, and after she had read them said a load of fears was now taken +off her mind. + +Mr. Rolfe shook his head. "You must not rely on Dr. Suaby too much. In +a prison or an asylum each functionary is important in exact proportion +to his nominal insignificance; and why? Because the greater his nominal +unimportance the more he comes in actual contact with the patient. The +theoretical scale runs thus: 1st. The presiding physician. 2d. The +medical subordinates. 3d. The keepers and nurses. The practical scale +runs thus: 1st. The keepers and nurses. 2d. The medical attendants. 3d. +The presiding physician." + +"I am glad to hear you say so, sir; for when I went to the asylum, and +the medical attendant, Mr. Salter, would not let me see my husband. I +gave his keeper and the nurse a little money to be kind to him in his +confinement." + +"You did! Yet you come here for advice? This is the way: a man +discourses and argues, and by profound reasoning--that is, by what he +thinks profound, and it isn't--arrives at the right thing; and lo! a +woman, with her understanding heart and her hard, good sense, goes and +does that wise thing humbly, without a word. SURSUM CORDA!--_Cheer up, +loving heart!"_ shouted he, like the roar of a lion in ecstasies; "you +have done a masterstroke--without Oldfield, or Rolfe, or any other +man." + +Lady Bassett clasped her hands with joy, and some electric fire seemed +to run through her veins; for she was all sensibilities, and this +sudden triumphant roaring out of strong words was quite new to her, and +carried her away. + +"Well," said this eccentric personage, cooling quite as suddenly as he +had fired, "the only improvement I can suggest is, be a little more +precise at your next visit. Promise his keepers twenty guineas apiece +the day Sir Charles is _cured;_ and promise them ten guineas apiece not +to administer one drop of medicine for the next two months; and, of +course, no leech nor blister. The cursed sedatives they believe in are +destruction to Sir Charles Bassett. His circulation must not be made +too slow one day, and too fast the next, which is the effect of a +sedative, but made regular by exercise and nourishing food. So, then, +you will square the keepers by their cupidity; the doctor is on the +right side _per se._ Shall we rely on these two, and ignore the medical +attendants? No; why throw a chance away? What is the key to these +medical attendants? Hum! Try flunkyism. I have great faith in British +flunkyism. Pay your next visit with four horses, two outriders, and +blazing liveries. Don't dress in perfect taste like _that;_ go in finer +clothes than you ever wore in the morning, or ought to wear, except at +a wedding; go not as a petitioner, but as a queen; and dazzle snobs; +the which being dazzled, then tickle their vanity: don't speak of Sir +Charles as an injured man, nor as a man unsound in mind, but a +gentleman who is rather ill; 'but _now,_ gentlemen, I feel your +remarkable skill will soon set him right.' Your husband runs that one +risk; make him safe: a few smiles and a little flattery will do it; and +if not, why, fight with all a woman's weapons. Don't be too nice: we +must all hold a candle to the devil once in our lives. A wife's love +sanctifies a woman's arts in fighting with a villain and disarming +donkeys." + +"Oh, I wish I was there now!" + +"You are excited, madam," said he, severely. "That is out of place--in +a deliberative assembly." + +"No, no; only I want to be there, doing all this for my dear husband." + +"You are very excited; and it is my fault. You must be hungry too: you +have come a journey. There will be a reaction, and then you will be +hysterical. Your temperament is of that kind." + +He rang a bell and ordered his maid-servant to bring some beef-wafers +and a pint of dry Champagne. + +Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be quiet; "for," said he, +"I have a smattering of medicine, as well as of law and of human +nature. Sir Charles must correspond with you. Probably he has already +written you six letters complaining of this monstrous act--a sane man +incarcerated. Well, that class of letter goes into a letter-box in the +hall of an asylum, but it never reaches its address. Please take a pen +and write a formula." He dictated as follows: + + + +"MY DEAR LOVE--The trifling illness I had when I came here is beginning +to give way to the skill and attention of the medical gentlemen here. +They are all most kind and attentive: the place, as it is conducted, is +a credit to the country." + + + +Lady Bassett's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not this rather +artful?" + +"And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage the writing of +letters, and then open them, and suppress whatever is disagreeable? May +every man who opens another man's letter find that letter a trap. Here +comes your medicine. You never drink champagne in the middle of the +day, of course?" + +"Oh, no." + +"Then it will be all the better medicine." + +He made both mistress and maid eat the thin slices of beef and drink a +glass of champagne. + +While they were thus fortifying themselves he wrote his address on some +stamped envelopes, and gave them to Lady Bassett, and told her she had +better write to him at once if anything occurred. "You must also write +to me if you really cannot get to see your husband. Then I will come +down myself, with the public press at my back. But I am sure that will +not be necessary in Dr. Suaby's asylum. He is a better Christian than I +am, confound him for it! You went too soon; your husband had been +agitated by the capture; Suaby was away; Salter had probably applied +what he imagined to be soothing remedies, leeches--a blister--morphia. +Result, the patient was so much worse than he was before they touched +him that Salter was ashamed to let you see him. Having really excited +him, instead of soothing him, Sawbones Salter had to pretend that _you_ +would excite him. As if creation contained any mineral, drug simple, +leech, Spanish fly, gadfly, or showerbath, so soothing as a loving wife +is to a man in affliction. New reading of an old song: + + 'If the heart of a man is oppressed with cares, + It makes him much worse when a woman appears.' + +"Go to-morrow; you will see him. He will be worse than he was; but not +much. Somebody will have told him that his wife put him in there--" + +"Oh! oh!" + +"And he won't have believed it. His father was a Bassett; his mother a +Le Compton; his great-great-great-grandmother was a Rolfe: there is no +cur's blood in him. After the first shock he will have found the spirit +and dignity of a gentleman to sustain adversity: these men of fashion +are like that; they are better steel than women--and writers." + +When he had said this he indicated by his manner that he thought he had +exhausted the subject, and himself. + +Lady Bassett rose and said, "Then, sir, I will take my leave; and oh! I +am sorry I have not your eloquent pen or your eloquent tongue to thank +you. You have interested yourself in a stranger--you have brought the +power of a great mind to bear on our distress. I came here a widow--now +I feel a wife again. Your good words have warmed my very heart. I can +only pray God to bless you, sir." + +"Pray say no more, madam," said Mr. Rolfe, hastily. "A gentleman cannot +be always writing lies; an hour or two given to truth and justice is a +wholesome diversion. At all events, don't thank me till my advice has +proved worth it." + +He rang the bell; the servant came, and showed the way to the street +door. Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowed +ceremoniously once more to Lady Bassett as she went out. + +As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was her +counselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distracted +bullock. + +"Well, I don't think much of _he,"_ said Mary Wells. + +Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbed +and taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, but +was more able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in +digesting Rolfe's every word, and fixing his map in her mind, and +filling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung her: she gave +her companion very short answers, especially when she disparaged Mr. +Rolfe. + +"You couldn't get in a word edgeways," said Mary Wells. + +"I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter." + +"He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow." + +"How _can_ he, and see other men?" + +"Well. I don't think much of him, for my part." + +"I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a silly +thing." + +"I don't know; that was afore my time" (rather pertly). + +"Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her." + +On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sent +directions to the coachman and grooms. + +At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started for +the asylum--coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders. + +Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two fresh +horses having been sent on at night. + +They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was left +ostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many a +pale face peeping from the upper windows. + +The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectful +air. + +"Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?" + +"No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day." + +Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowed +to see Mr. Coyne. + +"Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once," was the reply. + +Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people to +open the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr. +Coyne appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, +vulgar face, liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly at +sight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses. + +"Mr. Coyne, I believe," said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile. + +"At your service, madam." + +"May I have a word in private with you, sir?" + +"Certainly, madam." + +"We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?" + +"I am afraid," said the little man, apologetically, "I must ask you to +send them to the inn. It is close by." + +"By all means." (To one of the outriders:) "You will wait here for +orders." + +Mary Wells had been already instructed to wait in the hall and look out +sharp for Sir Charles's keeper and nurse, and tell them her ladyship +wanted to speak to them privately, and it would be money in their way. + +Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to congratulate +herself. "Mr. Bassett," said she, "is no friend of mine, but he has +done me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, when he might have sent +him to some place where he might have been made worse instead of +better. Here, I conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure his +trifling disorder, will you not?" + +"I have good hopes, your ladyship; he is better to-day." + +"Now I dare say you could tell me to a month when he will be cured." + +"Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much." + +"Three months?" + +"That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship may rely on it we +will do our best." + +"Will you? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, by-the-by, Dr. Willis +wanted me to take a message to you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you by +reputation." + +"Indeed! Really I was not aware that my humble--" + +"Then you are better known than you in your modesty supposed. Let me +see: what was the message? Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles he +wished you to know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and he +wished me to tell you that morphia and other sedatives have some very +bad effects on him. I told Dr. Willis you would probably find that and +every thing else out without a hint from him or any one else." + +"Yes; but I will make a note of it, for all that." + +"That is very kind of you. It will flatter the doctor, the more so as +he has so high an opinion of you. But now, Mr. Coyne, I suppose if I am +very good, and promise to soothe him, and not excite him, I may see my +husband to-day?" + +"Certainly, madam. You have an order from the person who--" + +"I forgot to bring it with me. I relied on your humanity." + +"That is unfortunate. I am afraid I must not--" He hesitated, looked +very uncomfortable, and said he would consult Mr. Appleton; then, +suddenly puckering his face into obsequiousness, "Would your ladyship +like to inspect some of our arrangements for the comfort of our +patients?" + +Lady Bassett would have declined the proposal but for the singular play +of countenance; she was herself all eye and mind, so she said, gravely, +"I shall be very happy, sir." + +Mr. Coyne then led the way, and showed her a large sitting-room, where +some ladies were seated at different occupations and amusements: they +kept more apart from each other than ladies do in general; but this was +the only sign a far more experienced observer than Lady Bassett could +have discovered, the nurses having sprung from authoritative into +unobtrusive positions at the sound of Mr. Coyne's footstep outside. + +"What!" said Lady Bassett; "are all these ladies--" She hesitated. + +"Every one," said Mr. Coyne; "and some incurably." + +"Oh, please let us retire; I have no right to gratify my curiosity. +Poor things! they don't seem unhappy." + +"Unhappy!" said Mr. Coyne. "We don't allow unhappiness here; our doctor +is too fond of them; he is always contriving something to please them." + +At this moment Lady Bassett looked up and saw a woman watching her over +the rail of a corridor on the first floor. She recognized the face +directly. The woman made her a rapid signal, and then disappeared into +one of the rooms. + +"Would there be any objection to our going upstairs, Mr. Coyne?" said +Lady Bassett, with a calm voice and a heart thumping violently. + +"Oh, none whatever. I'll conduct you; but then, I am afraid I must +leave you for a time." + +He showed her upstairs, blew a whistle, handed her over to an +attendant, and bowed and smiled himself away grotesquely. + +Jones was the very keeper she had feed last visit. She flushed with joy +at sight of bull-necked, burly Jones. "Oh, Mr. Jones!" said she, +putting her hands together with a look that might have melted a +hangman. + +Jones winked, and watched Mr. Coyne out of sight. + +"I have seen your ladyship's maid," said Jones, confidentially. "It is +all right. Mr. Coyne have got the blinkers on. Only pass me your word +not to excite him." + +"Oh no, sir, I will soothe him." And she trembled all over. + +"Sally!" cried Jones. + +The nurse came out of a room and held the door ajar; she whispered, "I +have prepared him, madam; he is all right." + +Lady Bassett, by a great effort, kept her feet from rushing, her heart +from crying out with joy, and she entered the room. Sally closed the +door like a shot, with a delicacy one would hardly have given her +credit for, to judge from appearances. + +Sir Charles stood in the middle of the room, beaming to receive her, +but restraining himself. They met: he held her to his heart; she wept +for joy and grief upon his neck. Neither spoke for a long time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THEY were seated hand in hand, comparing notes and comforting each +other. Then Lady Bassett met with a great surprise: forgetting, or +rather not realizing, Sir Charles's sex and character, she began with a +heavy heart to play the consoler; but after he had embraced her many +times with tender rapture, and thanked God for the sight of her, lo and +behold, this doughty baronet claimed his rights of manhood, and, in +spite of his capture, his incarceration, and his malady, set to work to +console her, instead of lying down to be consoled. + +"My darling Bella," said he, "don't you make a mountain of a mole-hill. +The moment you told me I should be a father I began to get better, and +to laugh at Richard Bassett's malice. Of course I was terribly knocked +over at first by being captured like a felon and clapped under lock and +key; but I am getting over that. My head gets muddled once a day, that +is all. They gave me some poison the first day that made me drunk +twelve hours after; but they have not repeated it." + +"Oh!" cried Lady Bassett, "then don't let me lose a moment. How could I +forget?" She opened the door, and called in Mr. Jones and the nurse. + +"Mr. Jones," said she, "the first day my husband came here Mr. Salter +gave him a sedative, or something, and it made him much worse." + +"It always do make 'em worse," said Jones, bluntly. + +"Then why did he give it?" + +"Out o' book, ma'am. His sort don't see how the medicines work; but we +do, as are always about the patient." + +"Mr. Jones," said Lady Bassett, "if Mr. Salter, or anybody, prescribes, +it is you who _administer_ the medicine." + +Jones assented with a wink. Winking was his foible, as puckering of the +face was Coyne's. + +"Should you be offended if I were to offer you and the nurse ten +guineas a month to pretend you had given him Mr. Salter's medicines, +and not do it?" + +"Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir Charles," said +Jones. "But I didn't ought to take so much money for that. To be sure, +I suppose, the lady won't miss it." + +"Don't be a donkey, Jones," said Sir Charles, cutting short his +hypocrisy. "Take whatever you can get; only earn it." + +"Oh, what I takes I earns." + +"Of course," said Sir Charles. "So that is settled. You have got to +physic those flower-pots instead of me, that is all." + +This view of things tickled Jones so that he roared with laughter. +However, he recollected himself all of a sudden, and stopped with +ludicrous abruptness. + +He said to Lady Bassett, with homely kindness, "You go home +comfortable, my lady; you have taken the stick by the right end." He +then had the good sense to retire from the room. + +Then Lady Bassett told Sir Charles of her visit to London, and her +calling on Mr. Rolfe. + +He looked blank at his wife calling on a bachelor; but her description +of the man, his age, and his simplicity, reconciled him to that; and +when she told him the plan and order of campaign Mr. Rolfe had given +her he approved it very earnestly. + +He fastened in particular on something that Mr. Rolfe had dwelt lightly +on. "Dear as the sight of you is to me, sweet as the sound of your +loved voice is to my ears and my heart, I would rather not see you +again until our hopes are realized than jeopardize _that."_ + +Lady Bassett sighed, for this seemed rather morbid. Sir Charles went +on: "So think of your own health first, and avoid agitations. I am +tormented with fear lest that monster should take advantage of my +absence to molest you. If he does, leave Huntercombe. Yes, leave it; go +to London; go, even for my sake; my health and happiness depend on you; +they cannot be much affected by anything that happens here. 'Stone +walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.'" + +Lady Bassett promised, but said she could not keep away from him, and +he must often write to her. She gave him Rolfe's formula, and told him +all letters would pass that praised the asylum. + +Sir Charles made a wry face. + +Lady Bassett's wrist went round his neck in a moment. "Oh, Charles, +dear, for my sake--hold a little, little candle to the devil. Mr. Rolfe +says we must. Oblige me in this--I am not so noble as you--and then +I'll be very good and obedient in what your heart is set upon." + +At last Sir Charles consented. + +Then they made haste, and told each other everything that had happened, +and it was late in the afternoon before they parted. + +Lady Bassett controlled her tears at parting as well as she could. + +Mr. Coyne had slyly hid himself, but emerged when she came down to the +carriage, and she shook him warmly by the hand, and he bowed at the +door incessantly, with his face all in a pucker, till the cavalcade +dashed away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +LADY BASSETT timed her next visit so that she found Dr. Suaby at home. + +He received her kindly, and showed himself a master; told her Sir +Charles's was a mixed case, in which the fall, the fit, and a morbid +desire for offspring had all played their parts. + +He hoped a speedy cure, but said he counted on her assistance. There +was no doubt what he meant. + +Oh, for one thing, he said to her, rather slyly, "Coyne tells me you +have been good enough to supply us with a hint as to his treatment; +sedatives are opposed to his idiosyncrasy." + +Lady Bassett blushed high, and said something about Dr. Willis. + +"Oh, you are quite right, you and Dr. Willis; only you are not so very +conversant with that idiosyncrasy. Why have you let him smoke twenty +cigars every day of his life? the brain is accessible by other roads +than the stomach. Well, we have got him down to four cigars, and in a +month we will have him down to two. The effect of that, and exercise, +and simple food, and the absence of powerful excitements--you will see. +Do your part," said he, gayly, "we will do ours. He is the most +interesting patient in the house, and born to adorn society, though by +a concurrence of unhappy circumstances he is separated from it for a +while." + +She spent the whole afternoon with Sir Charles, and they dined together +at the doctor's private table, with one or two patients who were +touched, but showed no signs of it on that occasion; for the good +doctor really acted like oil on the troubled waters. + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett corresponded, and so kept their hearts up; +but after Rolfe's hint the correspondence was rather guarded. If these +letters were read in the asylum the curious would learn that Sir +Charles was far more anxious about his wife's condition than his own; +but that these two patient persons were only waiting a certain near +event to attack Richard Bassett with accumulated fury--that smoldering +fire did not smoke by letter, but burned deep in both their sore and +heavy, but enduring, Anglo-Saxon hearts. + +Lady Bassett wrote to Mr. Rolfe, thanking him again for his advice, and +telling him how it worked. + +She had a very short reply from that gentleman. + +But about six weeks after her visit he surprised her a little by +writing of his own accord, and asking her for a formal introduction to +Sir Charles Bassett, and begging her to back a request that Sir Charles +would devote a leisure hour or two to correspondence with him. "Not," +said he, "on his private affairs, but on a matter of general interest. +I want a few of his experiences and observations in that place. I have +the less scruple in asking it, that whatever takes him out of himself +will be salutary." + +Lady Bassett sent him the required introduction in such terms that Sir +Charles at once consented to oblige his wife by obliging Mr. Rolfe. + + + +"My DEAR SIR--In compliance with your wish, and Lady Bassett's, I send +you a few desultory remarks on what I see here. + +"1st. The lines, + + 'Great wits to madness nearly are allied, + And thin partitions do their bonds divide,' + +are, in my opinion, exaggerated and untrue. Taking the people here as a +guide, the insane in general appear to be people with very little +brains, and enormous egotism. + +"My next observation is, that the women have far less imagination than +the men; they cannot even realize their own favorite delusions. For +instance, here are two young ladies, the Virgin Mary and the Queen of +England. How do they play their parts? They sit aloof from all the +rest, with their noses in the air. But gauge their imaginations; go +down on one knee, or both, and address them as a saint and a queen; +they cannot say a word in accordance; yet they are cunning enough to +see they cannot reply in character, so they will not utter a syllable +to their adorers. They are like the shop-boys who go to a masquerade as +Burleigh or Walsingham, and when you ask them who is Queen Bess's +favorite just now, blush, and look offended, and pass sulkily on. + +"The same class of male lunatics can speak in character; and this +observation has made me doubt whether philosophers are not mistaken in +saying that women generally have more imagination than men. I suspect +they have infinitely less; and I believe their great love of novels, +which has been set down to imagination, arises mainly from their want +of it. You writers of novels supply that defect for them by a pictorial +style, by an infinity of minute details, and petty aids to realizing, +all which an imaginative reader can do for himself on reading a bare +narrative of sterling facts and incidents. + +"I find a monotony in madness. So many have inspirations, see phantoms, +are the victims of vast conspiracies (principalities and powers +combined against a fly); their food is poisoned, their wine is drugged, +etc., etc. + +"These, I think, are all forms of that morbid egotism which is at the +bottom of insanity. So is their antipathy for each other. They keep +apart, because a madman is all self, and his talk is all self; thus +egotisms, clash, and an antipathy arises; yet it is not, I think, pure +antipathy, though so regarded, but a mere form of their boundless +egotism. + +"If, in visiting an asylum, you see two or three different patients +buttonhole a fourth and pour their grievances into a listening ear, you +may safely suspect No. 4 of--sanity. + +"On the whole, I think the doctor himself, and one of his attendants, +and Jones, a keeper, have more solid eccentricity and variety about +them than most of the patients." + + + +Extract from Letter 2, written about a fortnight later: + + + +"Some insane persons have a way of couching their nonsense in language +that sounds rational, and has a false air of logical connection. Their +periods seem stolen from sensible books, and forcibly fitted to +incongruous bosh. By this means the ear is confused, and a slow hearer +might fancy he was listening to sense. + +"I have secured you one example of this. You must know that, in the +evening, I sometimes collect a few together, and try to get them to +tell their stories. Little comes of it in general but interruptions. +But, one night, a melancholy Bagman responded in good set terms, and +all in a moment; one would have thought I had put a torch to a barrel +of powder, he went off so quickly, in this style: + +"'You ask my story: it is briefly told. Initiated in commerce from my +earliest years, and traveled in the cotton trade. As representative of +a large house in Manchester, I visited the United States. + +"'Unfortunately for me, that country was then the chosen abode of +spirits; the very air was thick and humming with supernaturalia. Ere +long spirit-voices whispered in my ear, and suggested pious aspirations +at first. That was a blind, no doubt; for very soon they went on to +insinuate things profane and indelicate, and urged me to deliver them +in mixed companies; I forbore with difficulty, restrained by the early +lessons of a pious mother, and a disinclination to be kicked +downstairs, or flung out o' window. + +"'I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in its +beautiful Doric, "Old oss, I reckon you'd better change the air." I +grasped his hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for England. + +"'On ocean's peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But under this +deceitful calm fresh dangers brooded. Two doctors had stolen into the +ship, unseen by human eye, and bided their time. Unable to act at sea, +owing to the combined effect of wind and current, they concealed +themselves on deck under a black tarpaulin--that is to say, it had been +black, but wind and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown--and there, +adopting for the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, the +caterpillar, and other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. But the +moment the vessel touched the quay, profiting by the commotion, they +emerged, and signed certificates with chalk on my portmanteau; then +vanished in the crowd. The Custom-house read the certificates, and +seized my luggage as contraband. I was too old a traveler to leave my +luggage; so then they seized me, and sent us both down here. (With +sudden and short-lived fury) that old hell-hound at the Lodge asked +them where I was booked for. "For the whole journey," said a sepulchral +voice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, the silent grave.' + +"Notwithstanding this stern decree, Suaby expects to turn him out cured +in a few months. + +"Miss Wieland, a very pretty girl, put her arm in mine, and drew me +mysteriously apart. 'So you are collecting the villainies,' said she, +sotto voce. 'It will take you all your time. I'll tell you mine. +There's a hideous old man wants me to marry him; and I won't. And he +has put me in here, and keeps me prisoner till I will. They are all on +his side, especially that sanctified old guy, Suaby. They drug my wine, +they stupefy me, they give me things to make me naughty and tipsy; but +it is no use; I never will marry that old goat--that for his money and +him--I'll die first.' + +"Of course my blood boiled; but I asked my nurse, Sally, and she +assured me there was not one atom of truth in any part of the story. +'The young lady was put in here by her mother; none too soon, neither.' +I asked her what she meant. 'Why, she came here with her throat cut, +and strapping on it. She is a suicidal.'" + + + +This correspondence led eventually to some unexpected results; but I am +obliged to interrupt it for a time, while I deal with a distinct series +of events which began about five weeks after Lady Bassett's visit to +Mr. Rolfe, and will carry the reader forward beyond the date we have +now arrived at. + +It was the little dining-room at Highmore; a low room, of modest size, +plainly furnished. An enormous fire-place, paved with plain tiles, on +which were placed iron dogs; only wood and roots were burned in this +room. + +Mrs. Bassett had just been packed off to bed by marital authority; +Bassett and Wheeler sat smoking pipes and sipping whisky-and-water. +Bassett professed to like the smell of peat smoke in whisky; what he +really liked was the price. + +After a few silent whiffs, said Bassett, "I didn't think they would +take it so quietly; did you?" + +"Well, I really did not. But, after all, what can they do? They are +evidently afraid to go to the Court of Chancery, and ask for a jury in +the asylum; and what else can they do?" + +"Humph! They might arrange an escape, and hide him for fourteen days; +then we could not recapture him without fresh certificates; could we?" + +"Certainly not." + +"And the doors would be too well guarded; not a crack for two doctors +to creep in at." + +"You go too fast. _You_ know the law from me, and you are a daring man +that would try this sort of thing; but a timid woman, advised by a +respectable muff like Oldfield! They will never dream of such a thing." + +"Oldfield is not her head-man. She has got another adviser, and he is +the very man to do something plucky." + +"I don't know who you mean." + +"Why, her lover, to be sure." + +"Her lover? Lady Bassett's lover!" + +"Ay, the young parson." + +Wheeler smiled satirically. "You certainly are a good hater. Nothing is +too bad for those you don't like. If that Lady Bassett is not a true +wife, where will you find one?" + +"She is the most deceitful jade in England." + +"Oh! oh!" + +"Ah! you may sneer. So you have forgotten how she outwitted us. Did the +devil himself ever do a cunninger thing than that? tempting a fellow +into a correspondence that seemed a piece of folly on her part, yet it +was a deep diabolical trick to get at my handwriting. Did _you_ see her +game? No more than I did. You chuckled at her writing letters to the +plaintiff _pendente lite._ We were both children, setting our wits +against a woman's. I tell you I dread her, especially when I see her so +unnaturally quiet, after what we have done. When you hook a large +salmon, and he makes a great commotion, but all of a sudden lies like a +stone, be on your guard; he means mischief." + +"Well," said Wheeler, "this is all very true, but you have strayed from +the point. What makes you think she has an improper attachment?" + +"Is it so very unnatural? He is the handsomest fellow about, she is the +loveliest woman; he is dark, she is fair; and they are thrown together +by circumstances. Another thing: I have always understood that women +admire the qualities they don't possess themselves--strength, for +instance. Now this parson is a Hercules. He took Sir Charles up like a +boy and carried him in his arms all the way from where he had the fit. +Lady Bassett walked beside them. Rely on it, a woman does not see one +man carry another so without making a comparison in favor of the +strong, and against the weak. But what am I talking about? They walk +like lovers, those two." + +"What, hand in hand? he! he!" + +"No, side by side; but yet like lovers for all that." + +"You must have a good eye." + +"I have a good opera-glass." + +Mr. Wheeler smoked in silence. + +"Well, but," said he, after a pause, "if this is so, all the better for +you. Don't you see that the lover will never really help her to get the +husband out of confinement? It is not in the nature of things. He may +struggle with his own conscience a bit, being a clergyman, but he won't +go too far; he won't break the law to get Sir Charles home, and so end +these charming duets with his lady-love." + +"By Jove, you are right!" cried Bassett, convinced in his turn. "I say, +old fellow, two heads are better than one. I think we have got the +clew, between us. Yes, by Heaven! it is so; for the carriage used to be +out twice a week, but now she only goes about once in ten days. +By-and-by it will be once a fortnight, then once a month, and the +black-eyed rector will preach patience and resignation. Oh, it was a +master-stroke, clapping him in that asylum! All we have got to do now +is to let well alone. When she is over head and ears in love with +Angelo she will come to easy terms with us, and so I'll move across the +way. I shall never be happy till I live at Huntercombe, and administer +the estate." + +The maid-servant brought him a note, and said it was from her mistress. +Bassett took it rather contemptuously, and said, "The little woman is +always in a fidget now when you come here. She is all for peace." He +read the letter. It ran thus: + + + +"DEAREST RICHARD--I implore you to do nothing more to hurt Sir Charles. +It is wicked, and it is useless. God has had pity on Lady Bassett, and +have you pity on her too. Jane has just heard it from one of the +Huntercombe servants." + + + +"What does she mean with her 'its'? Why, surely--Read it, you." + +They looked at each other in doubt and amazement for some time. Then +Richard Bassett rushed upstairs, and had a few hasty words with his +wife. + +She told him her news in plainer English, and renewed her mild +entreaties. He turned his back on her in the middle. He went out into +the nursery, and looked at his child. The little fellow, a beautiful +boy, slept the placid sleep of infancy. He leaned over him and kissed +him, and went down to the dining-room. + +His feet came tramp, tramp, very slowly, and when he opened the door +Mr. Wheeler was startled at the change in his appearance. He was pale, +and his countenance fallen. + +"Why, what is the matter?" said Wheeler. + +"She has done us. Ah, I was wiser than you; I feared her. It is the +same thing over again; a woman against two children. This shows how +strong she is; you can't realize what she has done--even when you see +it. An heir was wanted to those estates. Love cried out for one. Hate +cried out for one. Nature denied one. She has cut the Gordian knot; cut +it as boldly as the lowest woman in Huntercombe would have cut it under +such a terrible temptation." + +"Oh, for shame!" + +"Think, and use your eyes." + +"My eyes have seen the lady; I think I see her now, kneeling like an +angel over her husband, and pitying him for having knocked me down. I +say her only lover is her husband." + +"Oh, that was a long time ago. Time brings changes. You can't take the +eyes out of my head." + +"Suppose it should be only a false alarm?" + +"Is that likely? However, I will learn. Whether it is or not, that +child shall never rob mine of Bassett and Huntercombe. Anything is fair +against such a woman." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THAT very night, after Wheeler had gone home, Richard Bassett wrote a +cajoling letter to Mary Wells, asking her to meet him at the old place. + +When the girl got this letter she felt a little faint for a moment; but +she knew the man, his treachery, and his hard egotism and selfishness +so well, that she tossed the letter aside, and resolved to take no +notice. Her trust was all in her mistress, for whom, indeed, she had +more real affection than for any living creature; as for Richard +Bassett she absolutely detested him. + +As the day wore on she took another view of matters: her deceiver was +the enemy of her mistress; she might do her a service by going to this +rendezvous, might learn something from him, and use it against him. + +So she went to the rendezvous with a heart full of bitter hate. + +Bassett, with all his assurance, could not begin his interrogatory all +in a moment. He made a sort of apology, said he felt he had been +unkind, and he had never been happy since he had deserted her. + +She cut that short. "I have found a better than you," said she. "I am +going to London very soon--to be married." + +"I am glad to hear it." + +"No doubt you are." + +"I mean for your sake." + +"For my sake? You think as little of me as I do of you. Come, now, what +do you want of me--without a lie, if you _can?"_ + +"I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and hear your prospects." + +"Well, I have told you." And she pretended to be going. + +"Don't be in such a hurry. Tell us the news. Is it true that Lady +Bassett is expected--" + +"Oh, that is no news." + +"It is to me." + +"'Tain't no news in our house. Why, we have known it for months." + +This took away the man's breath for a minute. + +At last he said, with a great deal of intention: + +"Will it be fair or dark?" + +"As God pleases." + +"I'll bet you five pounds to one that it is dark." + +Mary shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, as if these speculations +were too childish for her. + +"It's my lady you want to talk about, is it? I thought it was to make +me a wedding present." + +He actually put his hand in his pocket and gave her two sovereigns. She +took them with a grim smile. + +He presumed on this to question her minutely. + +She submitted to the interrogatory. + +Only, as the questions were not always delicate, and the answer was +invariably an untruth, it may be as well to pass over the rest of the +dialogue. Suffice it to say that, whenever the girl saw the drift of a +question she lied admirably; and when she did not, still she lied upon +principle: it must be a good thing to deceive the enemy. + + + +Richard Bassett was now perplexed, and saw himself in that very +position which had so galled Lady Bassett six weeks or so before. He +could not make any advantageous move, but was obliged to await events. +All he could do was to spy a little on Lady Bassett, and note how often +she went to the asylum. + +After many days' watching he saw something new. + +Mr. Angelo was speaking to her with a good deal of warmth, when +suddenly she started from him, and then turned round upon him in a very +commanding attitude, and with prodigious fire. Angelo seemed then to +address her very humbly. But she remained rigid. At last Angelo retired +and left her so; but he was no sooner out of sight than she dropped +into a garden seat, and, taking out her handkerchief, cried a long +time. + +"Why doesn't the fool come back?" said Bassett, from his tower of +observation. + +He related this incident to Wheeler, and it impressed that worthy more +than all he had ever said before on the same subject. But in a day or +two Wheeler, who was a great gossip, and picked up every thing, came +and told Bassett that the parson was looking out for a curate, and +going to leave his living for a time, on the ground of health. "That is +rather against your theory, Mr. Bassett," said he. + +"Not a bit," said Bassett. "On the contrary, that is just what these +artful women do who sacrifice virtue but cling all the more to +reputation. I read French novels, my boy." + +"Find 'em instructive?" + +"Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our writers dare. Her +turning away her lover _now_ is just the act of what the French call a +masterly woman--_maitresse femme._ She has got rid of him to close the +mouth of scandal; that is her game." + +"Well," said Wheeler, "you certainly are very ingenious, and so +fortified in your opinions that with you facts are no longer stubborn +things; you can twist them all your way. If he had stayed and buzzed +about her, while her husband was incarcerated, you would have found her +guilty: he goes to Rome and leaves her, and therefore you find her +guilty. You would have made a fine hanging judge in the good old +sanguinary times." + +"I use my eyes, my memory, and my reason. She is a monster of vice and +deceit. Anything is fair against such a woman." + +"I am sorry to hear you say that," said Wheeler, becoming grave rather +suddenly. "A woman is a woman, and I tell you plainly I have gone +pretty well to the end of my tether with you." + +"Abandon me, then," said Bassett, doggedly; "I can go alone." + +Wheeler was touched by this, and said, "No, no; I am not the man to +desert a friend; but pray do nothing rash--do nothing without +consulting me." + +Bassett made no reply. + +About a week after this, as Lady Bassett was walking sadly in her own +garden, a great Newfoundland dog ran up to her without any warning, and +put his paws almost on her shoulder. + +She screamed violently, and more than once. + +One or two windows flew open, and among the women who put their heads +out to see what was the matter, Mary Wells was the first. + +The owner of the dog instantly whistled, and the sportive animal ran to +him; but Lady Bassett was a good deal scared, and went in holding her +hand to her side. Mary Wells hurried to her assistance, and she cried a +little from nervousness when the young woman came earnestly to her. + +"Oh, Mary! he frightened me so. I did not see him coming." + +"Mr. Moss," said Mary Wells, "here's a villain come and frightened my +lady. Go and shoot his dog, you and your son; and get the grooms, and +fling him in the horse-pond directly." + +"No!" said Lady Bassett, firmly. "You will see that he does not enter +the house, that is all. Should he attempt that, then you will use force +for my protection. Mary, come to my room." + +When they were together alone Lady Bassett put both hands on the girl's +shoulders, and made her turn toward her. + +"I think you love me, Mary?" said she, drinking the girl's eyes with +her own. + +"Ah! that I do, my lady." + +"Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and why did you incite +those poor men to--It might have led to bloodshed." + +"It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady!" + +"Oh, Mary!" + +"What, don't you see?" + +"No, no; I don't want to think so. It might have been an accident. The +poor dog meant no harm; it was his way of fawning, that was all." + +"The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is worse than any beast +that ever was born; he is a cruel, cunning, selfish devil; and if I had +been a man he should never have got off alive." + +"But are you sure?" + +"Quite. I was upstairs, and saw it all." + +This was not true; she had seen nothing till her mistress screamed. + +"Then--anything is fair against such a villain." + +"Of course it is." + +"Let me think." + +She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelligent face of hers +quite shone with hard thought. + +At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke. + +"I'll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Richard Bassett," said she, slowly, +and with a strange depth of resolution. + +Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in close discussion; +but now Lady Bassett took the lead, and revealed to her astonished +adviser extraordinary and astounding qualities. + +They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous game to play with +such a woman. + +Mary Wells found herself a child compared with her mistress, now that +that lady was driven to put out all her powers. + +The conversation lasted about two hours: in that time the whole +campaign was settled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MARY WELLS by order went down, in a loose morning wrapper her mistress +had given her, and dined in the servants' hall. She was welcomed with a +sort of shout, half ironical; and the chief butler said, + +"Glad to see you come back to us, Miss Wells." + +"The same to you, sir," said Mary, with more pertness than logic; +"which I'm only come to take leave, for to-morrow I go to London, on +business." + +"La! what's the business, I wonder?" inquired a house-maid, +irreverentially. + +"Well, my business is not your business, Jane. However, if you want to +know, I'm going to be married." + +"And none too soon," whispered the kitchen-maid to a footman. + +"Speak up, my dear," said Mary. "There's nothing more vulgarer than +whispering in company." + +"I said, 'What will Bill Drake say to that?'" + +"Bill Drake will say he was a goose not to make up his mind quicker. +This will learn him beauty won't wait for no man. If he cries when I am +gone, you lend him your apron to wipe his eyes, and tell him women +can't abide shilly-shallying men." + +"That's a hexcellent sentiment," said John the footman, "and a solemn +warning it is--" + +"To all such as footmen be," said Mary. + +"We writes it in the fly-leaf of our Bibles accordingly," said John. + +"No, my man, write it somewhere where you'll have a chance to read it." + +This caused a laugh; and when it was over, the butler, who did not feel +strong enough to chaff a lady of this caliber, inquired obsequiously +whether he might venture to ask who was the happy stranger to carry off +such a prize. + +"A civil question deserves a civil answer, Mr. Wright," said Mary. "It +is a sea-faring man, the mate of a ship. He have known me a few years +longer than any man in these parts. Whenever he comes home from a +voyage he tells me what he has made, and asks me to marry him. I have +said 'No' so many times I'm sick and tired; so I have said 'Yes' for +once in a way. Changes are lightsome, you know." + +Thus airily did Mary Wells communicate her prospects, and next morning +early was driven to the station; a cart had gone before with her +luggage, which tormented the female servants terribly; for, instead of +the droll little servant's box, covered with paper, she had a large +lady's box, filled with linen and clothes by the liberality of Lady +Bassett, and a covered basket, and an old carpet-bag, with some minor +packages of an unintelligible character. Nor did she make any secret +that she had money in both pockets; indeed, she flaunted some notes +before the groom, and told him none but her lady knew all she had done +for Sir Charles. "But," said she, "he is grateful, you see, and so is +she." + +She went off in the train, as gay as a lark; but she was no sooner out +of sight than her face changed its whole expression, and she went up to +London very grave and thoughtful. + +The traveling carriage was ordered at ten o'clock next day, and packed +as for a journey. + +Lady Bassett took her housekeeper with her to the asylum. + +She had an interview with Sir Charles, and told him what Mr. Bassett +had done, and the construction Mary Wells had put on it. + +Sir Charles turned pale with rage, and said he could no longer play the +patient game. He must bribe a keeper, make his escape, and kill that +villain. + +Lady Bassett was alarmed, and calmed it down. + +"It was only a servant's construction, and she might be wrong; but it +frightened me terribly; and I fear it is the beginning of a series of +annoyances and encroachments; and I have lost Mr. Angelo; he has gone +to Italy. Even Mary Wells left me this morning to be married. I think I +know a way to turn all this against Mr. Bassett; but I will not say it, +because I want to hear what you advise, dearest." + +Sir Charles did not leave her long in doubt. He said, "There is but one +way; you must leave Huntercombe, and put yourself out of that +miscreant's way until our child is born." + +"That would not grieve me," said Lady Bassett. "The place is odious to +me, now you are not there. But what would censorious people say?" + +"What could they say, except that you obeyed your husband?" + +"Is it a command, then, dearest?" + +"It is a command; and, although you are free, and I am a +prisoner--although you are still an ornament to society, and I pass for +an outcast, still I expect you to obey me when I assume a husband's +authority. I have not taken the command of you quite so much as you +used to say I must; but on this occasion I do. You will leave +Huntercombe, and avoid that caitiff until our child is born." + +"That ends all discussion," said Lady Bassett. "Oh, Charles, my only +regret is that it costs me nothing to obey you. But when did it ever? +My king!" + +He had ordered her to do the very thing she wished to do. + +She now gave her housekeeper minute instructions, settled the board +wages of the whole establishment, and sent her home in the carriage, +retaining her own boxes and packages at the inn. + + + +Richard Bassett soon found out that Lady Bassett had left Huntercombe. +He called on Wheeler and told him. Wheeler suggested she had gone to be +near her husband. + +"No," said Bassett, "she has joined her lover. I wonder at our +simplicity in believing that fellow was gone to Italy." + +"This is rich," said Wheeler. "A week ago she was guilty, and a +Machiavel in petticoats; for why? she had quarreled with her Angelo, +and packed him off to Italy. Now she is guilty; and why? because he is +not gone to Italy--not that you know whether he is or not. You reason +like a mule. As for me, I believe none of this nonsense--till you find +them together." + +"And that is just what I mean to do." + +"We shall see." + +"You will see." + +Very soon after this a country gentleman met Wheeler on market-day, and +drew him aside to ask him a question. "Do you advise Mr. Richard +Bassett still?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you set him to trespass on Lady Bassett's lawn, and frighten her +with a great dog in the present state of her health?" + +"Heaven forbid! This is the first I've heard of such a thing." + +"I am glad to hear you say that, Tom Wheeler. There, read that. Your +client deserves to be flogged out of the county, sir." And he pulled a +printed paper out of his pocket. It was dated from the Royal Hotel, +Bath, and had been printed with blanks, as follows; but a lady's hand +had filled in the dates. + +"On the day ---- of ----, while I was walking alone in my garden, Mr. +Richard Bassett, the person who has bereaved me by violence of my +protector, came, without leave, into my private grounds, and brought a +very large dog; it ran to me, and frightened me so that I nearly +fainted with alarm. Mr. Bassett was aware of my condition. Next day I +consulted my husband, and he ordered me to leave Huntercombe Hall, and +put myself beyond the reach of trespassers and outrage. + +"One motive has governed Mr. Bassett in all his acts, from his +anonymous letter to me before my marriage--which I keep for your +inspection, together with the proofs that he wrote it--to the barbarous +seizure of my husband upon certificates purchased beforehand, and this +last act of violence, which has driven me from the county for a time. + +"Sir Charles and I have often been your hosts and your guests; we now +ask you to watch our property and our legal rights, so long as through +injustice and cruelty my husband is a prisoner, his wife a fugitive." + + + +"There," said the gentleman, "these papers are going all round the +county." + +Wheeler was most indignant, and said he had never been consulted, and +had never advised a trespass. He begged a loan of the paper, and took +it to Bassett's that very same afternoon. + +"So you have been acting without advice," said he, angrily; "and a fine +mess you have made of it." And, though not much given to violent anger, +he dashed the paper down on the table, and hurt his hand a little. +Anger must be paid for, like other luxuries. + +Bassett read it, and was staggered a moment; but he soon recovered +himself, and said, "What is the foolish woman talking about?" + +He then took a sheet of paper, and said he would soon give her a Roland +for an Oliver. + +"Ay," said Wheeler, grimly, "let us see how you will put down _the +foolish woman._ I'll smoke a cigar in the garden, and recover my +temper." + +Richard Bassett's retort ran thus: + + + +"I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and if I put restraint +upon Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. Experienced +physicians represented him homicidal and suicidal; and I protected both +Lady Bassett and himself by the act she has interpreted so harshly. + +"As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle as a +lamb. I did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor that the poor +dog would run and welcome her. She is playing a comedy: the real truth +is, a gentleman had left Huntercombe whose company is necessary to her. +She has gone to join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +When he had written this Bassett ordered his dog-cart. + +Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last suggestion in it +was a libel, and an indictable one into the bargain. + +"What, if it is true--true to the letter?" + +"Even then you would not be safe, unless you could prove it by +disinterested witnesses." + +"Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut this sentence out. Excuse me one +minute, I must put a few things in my carpetbag." + +"What! going away?" + +"Of course I am." + +"Better give me your address, then, in case anything turns up." + +"If you were as sharp as you pass for you would know my address--Royal +Hotel, Bath, to be sure." + +He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes with his +carpet-bag and wraps. + +"Wouldn't to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose chase?" asked +Wheeler. + +"No," said Richard. "I'm not such a fool. Catch me losing twelve hours. +In that twelve hours they would shift their quarters. It is always so +when a fool delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath." + +The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he rattled off to the +railway. + +He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 A.M., took a warm bath +instead of bed, and then ordered breakfast; asked to see the visitors' +book, and wrote a false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, +saw Lady Bassett's name. + +But he could not find Mr. Angelo's name in the book. + +He got hold of Boots, and feed him liberally, then asked him if there +was a handsome young parson there--very dark. + +Boots could not say there was. + +Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at another hotel, or +perhaps in lodgings, out of prudence. + +"Lady Bassett here still?" said he. + +Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. Did inquire, and +brought him word Lady Bassett had left for London yesterday morning. + +Bassett ground his teeth with vexation. + +No train to London for an hour and a half. He took a stroll through the +town to fill up the time. + +How often, when a man abandons or remits his search for a time, Fate +sends in his way the very thing he is after, but has given up hunting +just then! As he walked along the north side of a certain street, what +should he see but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eyebrows +of Mr. Angelo, shining from afar. + +That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps of a small +hotel. + +Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen. Looking round he saw he was +at the door of a respectable house that let apartments. He hurried in, +examined the drawing-room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, +and sent to the Royal for his bag. + +He installed himself near the window, to await one of two things, and +act accordingly. If Angelo left the place he should go by the same +train, and so catch the parties together; if the lady doubled back to +Bath, or had only pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, by +diligent watch and careful following. + +He wrote to Wheeler to announce this first step toward success. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +SOME days after this Mr. Rolfe received a line from Lady Bassett, to +say she was at the Adelphi Hotel, in John Street. He put some letters +into his pocket and called on her directly. + +She received him warmly, and told him, more fully than she had by +letter, how she had acted on his advice; then she told him of Richard +Bassett's last act, and showed him her retort. + +He knitted his brows at first over it; but said he thought her +proclamation could do no harm. + +"As a rule," said he, "I object to flicking with a lady's whip when I +am going to crush, but--yes--it is able, and gives you a good excuse +for keeping out of the way of annoyances till we strike the blow. And +now I have something to consult you upon. May I read you some extracts +from your husband's letters to me?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Forgive a novelist; but this is a new situation, reading a husband's +letters to his wife. However, I have a motive, and so I had in +soliciting the correspondence with Sir Charles." He then read her the +letters that are already before the reader, and also the following +extracts: + + + +"Mr. Johnson, a broken tradesman, has some imagination, though not of a +poetic kind; he is imbued with trade, and, in the daytime, exercises +several, especially a butcher's. When he sees any of us coming, he +whips before the nearest door or gate, and sells meat. He sells it very +cheap; the reason is, his friends allow him only a shilling or two in +coppers, and as every madman is the center of the universe, he thinks +that the prices of all commodities are regulated by the amount of +specie in his pocket. This is his style, 'Come, buy, buy, choice mutton +three farthings the carcass. Retail shop next door, ma'am. Jack, serve +the lady. Bill, tell him he can send me home those twenty bullocks, at +three half-pence each--' and so on. But at night he subsides into an +auctioneer, and, with knocking down lots while others are conversing, +gets removed occasionally to a padded room. Sometimes we humor him, and +he sells us the furniture after a spirited competition, and debits the +amounts, for cash is not abundant here. The other night, heated with +business, he went on from the articles of furniture to the company, and +put us all up in succession. + +"Having a good many dislikes, he sometimes forgot the auctioneer in the +man, and depreciated some lots so severely that they had to be passed; +but he set Miss Wieland in a chair, and descanted on her beauty, good +temper, and other gifts, in terms florid enough for Robins, or any +other poet. Sold for eighteen pounds, and to a lady. This lady had +formed a violent attachment to Miss W.; so next week they will be at +daggers drawn. My turn came, and the auctioneer did me the honor to +describe me as 'the lot of the evening.' He told the bidders to mind +what they were about, they might never again be able to secure a live +baronet at a moderate price, owing to the tightness of the money +market. Well, sir, I was honored with bids from several ladies; but +they were too timid and too honest to go beyond their means; my less +scrupulous sex soared above these considerations, and I was knocked +down for seventy-nine pounds fifteen shillings, amid loud applause at +the spirited result. My purchaser is a shop-keeper mad after gardening. +Dr. Suaby has given him a plot to cultivate, and he whispered in my +ear, 'The reason I went to a fancy price was, I can kill two birds with +one stone with you. You'll make a very good statee stuck up among my +flowers; and you can hallo, and keep those plaguy sparrows off.'" + + + +"Oh, what creatures for my darling to live among!" cried Lady Bassett +piteously. + +Mr. Rolfe stared, and said, "What, then, you are like all your sex--no +sense of humor?" + +"Humor! when my husband is in misery and degradation!" + +"And don't you see that the brave writer of these letters is steeled +against misery, and above degradation? Such men are not the mere sport +of circumstances. Your husband carries a soul not to be quelled by +three months in a well-ordered mad-house. But I will read no more, +since what gives me satisfaction gives you pain." + +"Oh, yes, yes! Don't let me lose a word my husband has ever uttered." + +"Well, I'll go on; but I'm horribly discouraged." + +"I'm so sorry for that sir. Please forgive me." + +Mr. Rolfe read the letter next in date-- + + + +"We are honored with one relic of antiquity, a Pythagorean. He has +obliged me with his biography. He was, to use his own words, engendered +by the sun shining on a dunghill at his father's door,' and began his +career as a flea; but his identity was, somehow, shifted to a boy of +nine years old. He has had a long spell of humanity, and awaits the +great change--which is to turn him to a bee. It will not find him +unprepared; he has long practiced humming, in anticipation. A faithful +friend, called Caffyn, used to visit him every week. Caffyn died last +year, and the poor Pythagorean was very lonely and sad; but, two months +ago, he detected his friend in the butcher's horse, and is more than +consoled, for he says, Caffyn comes six times a week now, instead of +once.'" + + + +"Poor soul!" said Lady Bassett. "What a strange world for him to be +living in. It seems like a dream." + +"There is something stranger coming in this last letter." + +"I have at last found one madman allied to Genius. It has taken me a +fortnight to master his delusion, and to write down the vocabulary he +has invented to describe the strange monster of his imagination. All +the words I write in italics are his own. + +"Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed for malignant +purposes, which machine is an _air-loom._ It rivals the human machine +in this, that it can operate either on mind or matter. It was invented, +and is worked, by a gang of villains superlatively skillful in +_pneumatic chemistry, physiology, nervous influence, sympathy,_ and the +_higher metaphysic,_ men far beyond the immature science of the present +era, which, indeed, is a favorite subject of their ridicule. + +"The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only seen the four +highest: _Bill, the King,_ a master of the art of _magnetic +impregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster,_ the short-hand writer of the +gang; _Sir Archy,_ Chief Liar to the Association; and the +_glove-woman,_ so called from her always wearing cotton mittens. This +personage has never been known to speak to any one. + +"The materials used in the air-loom by these _pneumatic adepts_ are +infinite; but principally _effluvia of certain metals, poisons, +soporific scents,_ etc. + +"The principal effects are: + +"1st. EVENT-WORKING.--This is done by _magnetic manipulation_ of kings, +emperors, prime ministers, and others; so that, while the world is +fearing and admiring them, they are, in reality, mere puppets played by +the workers of the air-loom. + +"2d. CUTTING SOUL FROM SENSE.--This is done _by diffusing the magnetic +warp from the root of the nose under the base of the skull, till it +forms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can have no +communication with the operations of the intellect._ + +"3d. KITING.--As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air-loom can lift +an idea into the brain, where it floats and undulates for hours +together. The victim cannot get rid of an idea so insinuated. + +"4th. LOBSTER-CRACKING.--An external pressure of the magnetic +atmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams has been so +operated on, and says he felt as if he was grasped by an enormous pair +of nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected to a piercing pressure, which +he still remembers with horror. Death sometimes results from +Lobster-cracking. + +"5th. LENGTHENING THE BRAIN.--_As the cylindrical mirror lengthens the +countenance,_ so these assailants find means to _elon_gate the brain. +This distorts the ideas, and subjects the most serious are made silly +and ridiculous. + +"6th. THOUGHT-MAKING.--While one of these villains sucks at the brain +of the assailed, and extracts his existing sentiments, another will +press into the vacuum ideas very different from his real thoughts. Thus +his mind is physically enslaved." + + + +Then Sir Charles goes on to say: + + + +"Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I thought I would +try and reason him out of his delusion. I asked if he had ever seen +this gang and their machine. + +"He said yes, they operated on him this morning. 'Then show them me,' +said I. 'Young man,' said he, satirically, 'do you think these +assassins, and their diabolical machine, would be allowed to go on, if +they could be laid hands on so easily? The gang are fertile in +disguise; the machine operates at considerable distances.' + +"To drive him into a corner, I said, 'Will you give me a drawing of +it?' He seemed to hesitate, so I said, 'If you can not draw it, you +never saw it, and never will.' He assented to that, and I was vain +enough to think I had staggered him; but yesterday he produced the +inclosed sketch and explanation. After this I sadly fear he is +incurable. + +"There are three sane patients in this asylum, besides myself. I will +tell you their stories when you come here, which I hope will be soon; +for the time agreed on draws near, and my patience and self-control are +sorely tried, as day after day rolls by, and sees me still in a +madhouse." + + + +"There, Lady Bassett," said Mr. Rolfe. "And now for my motive in +reading these letters. Sir Charles may still have a crotchet, an +inordinate desire for an heir; but, even if he has, the writer of these +letters has nothing to fear from any jury; and, therefore, I am now +ready to act. I propose to go down to the asylum to-morrow, and get him +out as quickly as I can." + +Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then she turned suddenly +pale, and her countenance fell. She said nothing. + +Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last meeting, she was +writhing at her inaction. He began to puzzle himself. She watched him +keenly. He thought to himself, "Perhaps she dreads the excitement of +meeting--for herself." + +At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would take to liberate Sir +Charles. + +"Not quite a week, if Richard Bassett is well advised. If he fights +desperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the work +an hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mix +the two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don't +like to say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and write +to Dr. Suaby that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get a +line from you to go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do the +work." + +This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thanked +him. + +"You need not waste words over it," said he. "Write one word, 'ACT!' +That will be the shortest letter you ever wrote." + +The rest of the conversation is not worth recording. + +Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, and +waited. + +But day after day went by, and the order never came to act. + +Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he +could have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But +he rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. +He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both +husband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the +delay. + +Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time. + +At last a letter came from Gloucester Place. + + + +"Will my kind friend now ACT? + +"Gratefully, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for +Bellevue House. + + + +On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea +with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had +left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of +undoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London. + +The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door. + +A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of +title in Gloucester Place, hard by. + +"I will come," said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as +soon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each +other. + +"Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady." + +Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was +opened by the charwoman. + +He asked her with some doubt if that was the house. + +The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was +from the country, and was looking out for some servants. + +This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, over +the balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's saying +it was, begged him to step upstairs at once. + +He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was all +discretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, she +would do anything for her dear mistress. + +Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who could +obey orders, was as good as a number, or better. + +He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at once +that the patient was in labor. + +He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, and +dine with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments. + +The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam--a meek, sorrowful +patient--an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland. + +Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite. + +Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents. + +"So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?" + +"The humors of the place, you mean." + +"Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected me +along with the rest?" + +"No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His pen +failed at you. 'You must come and _see_ the doctor,' he said. So here I +am." + +"Oh," said the doctor, "if your wit and his are both to be leveled at +me, I had better stop your mouths. Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, will +you take Miss Wieland? Sorry we have not another lady to keep you +company, madam." + +"Are you? Then I'm not," said the lady smartly. + +The dinner passed like any other, only Rolfe observed that Dr. Suaby +took every fair opportunity of drawing the pluckless Mr. Hyam into +conversation, and that he coldly ignored the Exquisite. + +"I have seen that young man about town, I think," said Mr. Rolfe. +"Where was it, I wonder?" + +"The Argyll Rooms, or the Casino, probably." + +"Thank you, doctor. Oh, I forgot; you owed me one. He is no favorite of +yours." + +"Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally." + +"Medicinally? That's too deep for a layman." + +"To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good." + +"Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought." + +"No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; but you know very +little, begging your pardon." + +"That is the theory of compensation. When you know very little about a +thing you must talk a great deal about it. Well, I'm here for +instruction; thirsting for it." + +"All the better; we'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart." + +"All right: but not of your favorite Acetate of Morphia; because that +is the draught that takes the reason prisoner." + +"It's no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has taught me that all +sedatives excite; if they soothe at first, they excite next day. My +antidotes to mental excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and, best +of all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows it. To +put it shortly--prolonged bodily excitement antidotes mental +excitement." + +"I'll take a note of that. It is the wisest thing I ever heard from any +learned physician." + +"Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are a little prejudiced +against the faculty." + +"Only in their business. They are delightful out of that. But, come +now, nobody hears us--confess, the system which prescribes drugs, +drugs, drugs at every visit and in every case, and does not give a +severe selection of esculents the first place, but only the second or +third, must be rotten at the core. Don't you despise a layman's eye. +All the professions want it." + +"Well, you are a writer; publish a book, call it Medicina laici, and +send me a copy." + +"To slash in the _Lancet?_ Well, I will: when novels cease to pay and +truth begins to." + +In the course of the evening Mr. Rolfe drew Dr. Suaby apart, and said, +"I must tell you frankly, I mean to relieve you of one of your +inmates." + +"Only one? I was in hopes you would relieve me of all the sane people. +They say you are ingenious at it. All I know is, I can't get rid of an +inmate if the person who signed the order resists. Now, for instance, +here's a Mrs. Hallam came here unsound: religious delusion. Has been +cured two months. I have reported her so to her son-in-law, who signed +the order; but he will not discharge her. He is vicious, she +scriptural; bores him about eternity. Then I wrote to the Commissioners +in Lunacy; but they don't like to strain their powers, so they wrote to +the affectionate son-in-law, and he politely declines to act. Sir +Charles Bassett the same: three weeks ago I reported him cured, and the +detaining relative has not even replied to me." + +"Got a copy of your letter?" + +"Of course. But what if I tell you there is a gentleman here who never +had any business to come, yet he is as much a fixture as the grates. I +took him blindfold along with the house. I signed a deed, and it is so +stringent I can't evade one of my predecessor's engagements. This old +rogue committed himself to my predecessor's care, under medical +certificates; the order he signed himself." + +"Illegal, you know." + +"Of course; but where's the remedy? The person who signed the order +must rescind it. But this sham lunatic won't rescind it. Altogether the +tenacity of an asylum is prodigious. The statutes are written with +bird-lime. Twenty years ago that old Skinflint found the rates and +taxes intolerable; and doesn't everybody find them intolerable? To +avoid these rates and taxes he shut up his house, captured himself, and +took himself here; and here he will end his days, excluding some +genuine patient, unless _you_ sweep him into the street for me." + +"Sindbad, I will try," said Rolfe, solemnly; "but I must begin with Sir +Charles Bassett. By-the-by, about his crotchet?" + +"Oh, he has still an extravagant desire for children. But the cerebral +derangement is cured, and the other, standing by itself, is a foible, +not a mania. It is only a natural desire in excess. If they brought me +Rachel merely because she had said, 'Give me children, or I die,' and I +found her a healthy woman in other respects, I should object to receive +her on that score alone." + +"You are deadly particular--compared with some of them," said Rolfe. + +That evening he made an appointment with Sir Charles, and visited him +in his room at 8 A. M. He told him he had seen Lady Bassett in London, +and, of course, he had to answer many questions. He then told him he +came expressly to effect his liberation. + +"I am grateful to you, sir," said Sir Charles, with a suppressed and +manly emotion. + +"Here are my instructions from Lady Bassett; short, but to the point." + +"May I keep that?" + +"Why, of course." + +Sir Charles kissed his wife's line, and put the note in his breast. + +"The first step," said Rolfe, "is to cut you in two. That is soon done. +You must copy in your own hand, and then sign, this writing." And he +handed him a paper. + + + +"I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct James Sharpe, +of Gray's Inn, my Solicitor, to sue the person who signed the order for +my incarceration--in the Court of Common Pleas; and to take such other +steps for my relief as may be advised by my counsel--Mr. Francis +Rolfe." + + + +"Excuse me," said Sir Charles, "if I make one objection. Mr. Oldfield +has been my solicitor for many years. I fear it will hurt his feelings +if I intrust the matter to a stranger. Would there be any objection to +my inserting Mr. Oldfield's name, sir?" + +"Only this: he would think he knew better than I do; and then I, who +know better than he does, and am very vain and arrogant, should throw +up the case in a passion, and go back to my MS.; and humdrum Oldfield +would go to Equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall on your +estate instead of on your enemy; and you would be here eighteen months +instead of eight or ten days. No, Sir Charles, you can't mix champagne +and ditch-water; you can't make Invention row in a boat with Antique +Twaddle, and you mustn't ask me to fight your battle with a blunt +knife, when I have got a sharp knife that fits my hand." + +Mr. Rolfe said this with more irritation than was justified, and +revealed one of the great defects in his character. + +Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled, and said, "I withdraw a proposal +which I see annoys you." He then signed the paper. + +Mr. Rolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, "Now you are cut in +two. One you is here; but Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you works +out of the asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference. +Compare notes with those who have tried the other way. Yet, simple and +obvious as this is, would you believe it, I alone have discovered this +method; I alone practice it." + +He sent his secretary off to London at once, and returned to Sir +Charles. "The authority will be with Sharpe at 2:30. He will be at +Whitehall 3:15, and examine the order. He will take the writ out at +once, and if Richard Bassett is the man, he will serve it on him +to-morrow in good time, and send one of your grooms over here on +horseback with the news. We serve the writ personally, because we have +shufflers to deal with, and I will not give them a chance. Now I must +go and write a lie or two for the public; and then inspect the asylum +with Suaby. Before post-time I will write to a friend of mine who is a +Commissioner of Lunacy, one of the strong-minded ones. We may as well +have two strings to our bow." + +Sir Charles thanked him gracefully, and said, "It is a rare thing, in +this selfish world, to see one man interest himself in the wrongs of +another, as you are good enough to do in mine." + +"Oh," said Rolfe, "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. My +business is Lying; and I drudge at it. So to escape now and then to the +play-ground of Truth and Justice is a great amusement and recreation to +poor me. Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into Mendacity; +and that's the thing that pays." + +With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled away. + +Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this vein of +incident, I jump to what occurred toward evening. + +Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. Suaby that a man had +walked all the way from Huntercombe to see Sir Charles Bassett. + +"Poor fellow!" said Dr. Suaby; "I should like to see him. Would you +mind receiving him here?" + +"Oh, no." + +"On second thoughts, James, you had better light a candle in the next +room--in case." + +A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of Moses Moss entered +the room. Being bareheaded, he saluted the company by pulling his head, +and it bobbed. He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soon +distinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance beamed with simple +and affectionate satisfaction. + +"How d'ye do, Moss?" said Sir Charles. + +"Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in my mind. There +be a trifle too many rogues afoot to please me. However, I told my +mistress this morning, says I, 'Before I puts up with this here any +longer, I must go over there and see him; for here's so many lies +a-cutting about,' says I, 'I'm fairly mazed.' So, if you please, Sir +Charles, will you be so good as to tell me out of your own mouth, and +then I shall know: be you crazy or hain't you--ay or no?" + +Suaby and Rolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; but Sir Charles +said, gravely, he was not crazy. "Do I look crazy, Moss?" + +"That ye doan't; you look twice the man you did. Why, your cheeks did +use to be so pasty like; now you've got a color--but mayhap" (casting +an eye on the decanters) "ye're flustered a bit wi' drink." + +"No, no," said Rolfe, "we have not commenced our nightly debauch yet; +only just done dinner." + +"Then there goes another. This will be good news to home. Dall'd if I +would not ha' come them there thirty miles on all-fours for't. But, +sir, if so be you are not crazy, please think about coming home, for +things ain't as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away for +her groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard Bassett; and him +and his lawyer they have put it about as you are dead in law; that is +the word: and so the servants they don't know what to think; and the +village folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on 'em in jail: +and Joe and I, we wants to fight un, but my dame she is timorous, and +won't let us, because of the laayer. And th' upshot is, this here +Richard Bassett is master after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, +and brings men with a pole measure, and uses the place as his'n mostly; +but our Joe bides in the Hall with his gun, and swears he'll shoot him +if he sets foot in the house. Joe says he have my lady's leave and +license so to do, but not outside." + +Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with indignation. + +Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, "Control yourself, sir.'" + +"I am not going to control _myself,"_ cried Rolfe, in a rage. "Don't +you take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall not last long." + +"Ah!" + +"Dr. Suaby, can you lend me a gig or a dog-cart, with a good horse?" + +"Yes. I have got a WONDERFUL roadster, half Irish, half Norman." + +"Then, Mr. Moss, to-morrow you and I go to Huntercombe: you shall show +me this Bassett, and we will give him a pill." + +"Meantime," said Dr. Suaby, "I take a leaf out of your Medicina laici, +and prescribe a hearty supper, a quart of ale, and a comfortable bed to +Mr. Moss. James, see him well taken care of. Poor man!" said he, when +Moss had retired. "What simplicity! what good sense! what ignorance of +the world! what feudality, if I may be allowed the expression." + +Sir Charles was manifestly discomposed, and retired to bed early. + +Rolfe drove off with Moss at eight o'clock, and was not seen again all +day. Indeed, Sir Charles was just leaving Dr. Suaby's room when he came +in rather tired, and would not say a word till they gave him a cup of +tea: then he brightened up and told his story. + +"We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff did not come nor send +by the first train. His clerk arrived by the second. We went to +Huntercombe village together, and on the road I gave him some special +instructions. Richard Bassett not at home. We used a little bad +language and threw out a skirmisher--Moss, to wit--to find him. Moss +discovered him on your lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flower +beds, with Wheeler looking over the boundary wall. + +"We went up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. He +took it quite coolly; but when he saw at whose suit it was he turned +pale. He recovered himself directly, though, and burst out laughing. +'Suit of Sir Charles Bassett. Why, he can't sue: he is civiliter +mortuus: mad as a March hare: in confinement.' Clerk told him he was +mistaken; Sir Charles was perfectly sane. 'Good-day, sir.' So then +Bassett asked him to wait a little. He took the writ away, and showed +it Wheeler, no doubt. He came back, and blustered, and said, 'Some +other person has instructed you: you will get yourself into trouble, I +fear.' The little clerk told him not to alarm himself; Mr. Sharpe was +instructed by Sir Charles Bassett, in his own handwriting and +signature, and said, 'It is not my business to argue the case with you. +You had better take the advice of counsel.' 'Thank you,' said Bassett; +'that would be wasting a guinea.' 'A good many thousand guineas have +been lost by that sort of economy,' says the little clerk, solemnly. +Oh, and he told him Mr. Sharpe was instructed to indict him for a +trespass if he ever came there again; and handed him a written paper to +that effect, which we two had drawn up at the station; and so left him +to his reflections. We went into the house, and called the servants +together, and told them to keep the rooms warm and the beds aired, +since you might return any day." + +Upon this news Sir Charles showed no premature or undignified triumph, +but some natural complacency, and a good deal of gratitude. + +The next day was blank of events, but the next after Mr. Rolfe received +a letter containing a note addressed to Sir Charles Bassett. Mr. Rolfe +sent it to him. + + + +SIR--I am desired to inform you that I attended Lady Bassett last +night, when she was safely delivered of a son. Have seen her again this +morning. Mother and child are doing remarkably well. + +"W. BODDINGTON, Surgeon, 17 Upper Gloucester Place." + + + +Sir Charles cried, "Thank God! thank God!" He held out the paper to Mr. +Rolfe, and sat down, overpowered by tender emotions. + +Mr. Rolfe devoured the surgeon's letter at one glance, shook the +baronet's hand eloquently, and went away softly, leaving him with his +happiness. + +Sir Charles, however, began now to pine for liberty; he longed so to +join his wife and see his child, and Rolfe, observing this, chafed with +impatience. He had calculated on Bassett, advised by Wheeler, taking +the wisest course, and discharging him on the spot. He had also hoped +to hear from the Commissioner of Lunacy. But neither event took place. + +They could have cut the Gordian knot by organizing an escape: Giles and +others were to be bought to that: but Dr. Suaby's whole conduct had +been so kind, generous, and confiding, that this was out of the +question. Indeed, Sir Charles had for the last month been there upon +parole. + +Yet the thing had been wisely planned, as will appear when I come to +notice the advice counsel had given to Bassett in this emergency. But +Bassett would not take advice: he went by his own head, and prepared a +new and terrible blow, which Mr. Rolfe did not foresee. + +But meantime an unlooked-for and accidental assistant came into the +asylum, without the least idea Sir Charles was there. + +Mrs. Marsh, early in her married life, converted her husband to +religion, and took him about the county preaching. She was in earnest, +and had a vein of natural eloquence that really went straight to +people's bosoms. She was certainly a Christian, though an eccentric +one. Temper being the last thing to yield to Gospel light, she still +got into rages; but now she was very humble and penitent after them. + +Well, then, after going about doing good, she decided to settle down +and do good. As for Marsh, he had only to obey. Judge for yourself: the +mild, gray-haired vicar of Calverly, who now leaned on la Marsh as on a +staff, thought it right at the beginning to ascertain that she was not +opposing her husband's views. He put a query of this kind as delicately +as possible. + +"My husband!" cried she. "If he refused to go to heaven with me, I'd +take him there by the ear." And her eye flashed with the threat. + +Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Vandeleur was ruined, and in Dr. +Suaby's asylum, not ten miles from her country-seat. This intelligence +touched her. She contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly and +spiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and she felt bound +to see if nothing could be done for the poor wretch. A timid Christian +would have sent some man to do the good work; but this was a lion-like +one. So she mounted her horse, and taking only her groom with her, was +at Bellevue in no time. + +She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, sent in her card, +and was received at once. + +"You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur?" + +The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. + +"I wish to see him." + +"Certainly, madam.--James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, and +send Mr. Vandeleur to her." + +"He is not violent, is he?" said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate when +she saw there was no opposition. + +"Not at all, madam--the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money about +you, it might be as well to confide it to me." + +"What, will he rob me?" + +"Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you +out of it." + +"No fear of that, sir." And she followed James. + +He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the +window, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, +reading or working in the sun. + +"Poor things!" she thought; "they are not so very miserable: perhaps +God comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching +would do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let +me; they lean on the arm of flesh." + +Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and +in came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning +smile he had put on for conquest. + +He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded. + +At last he burst out, "Somer--Was it me you wished to see?" + +"Yes," said she, very kindly. "I came to see you for old acquaintance. +You must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married." + +By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chair +with ingratiating zeal. + +"Sit down by me," said she, as if she was petting a child. "Are you +sure you remember me?" + +Says the Courtier, "Who could forget you that had ever had the honor--" + +Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. "I did not come here for +folly," said she. Then, rather naively, "I begin to doubt your being so +very mad." + +"Mad? No, of course I am not." + +"Then what brings you here?" + +"Stumped." + +"What, have I mistaken the house? Is it a jail?" + +"Oh, no! I'll tell you. You see I was dipped pretty deep, and duns +after me, and the Derby my only chance; so I put the pot on. But a dark +horse won: the Jews knew I was done: so now it was a race which should +take me. Sloman had seven writs out: I was in a corner. I got a friend +that knows every move to sign me into this asylum. They thought it was +all up then, and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound." + +Before he could complete this autobiographical sketch Mrs. Marsh +started up in a fury, and brought her whip down on the table with a +smartish cut. + +"You little heartless villain!" she screamed. "Is this, the way you +play upon people: bringing me from my home to console a maniac, and, +instead of that, you are only what you always were, a spendthrift and a +scamp? Finely they will laugh at me." + +She clutched the whip in her white but powerful hand till it quivered +in the air, impatient for a victim. + +"Oh!" she cried, panting, and struggling with her passion, "if I wasn't +a child of God, I'd--" + +"You'd give me a devilish good hiding," said Vandeleur, demurely. + +"That I _would,"_ said she, very earnestly. + +"You forget that I never told you I was mad. How could I imagine you +would hear it? How could I dream you would come, even if you did?" + +"I should be no Christian if I didn't come." + +"But I mean we parted bad friends, you know." + +"Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse you sent me a new +sidesaddle. A woman does not forget those little things. You were a +gentleman, though a child of Belial." + +Vandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to say, "In both those +matters you are the highest authority earth contains." + +"So come," said she, "here is plenty of writing-paper. Now tell me all +your debts, and I will put them down." + +"What is the use? At a shilling in the pound, six hundred will pay them +all." + +"Are you sure?" + +"As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the money." + +"Oh, I only mean to lend it you." + +"That alters the case." + +"Prodigiously." And she smiled satirically. "Now your friend's address, +that is treating with your creditors." + +"Must I?" + +"Unless you want to put me in a great passion." + +"Anything sooner than that." Then he wrote it for her. + +"And now," said she, "grant me a little favor for old acquaintance. +Just kneel you down there, and let me wrestle with Heaven for you, that +you may be a brand plucked from the fire, even as I am." + +The Pink of Politeness submitted, with a sigh of resignation. + +Then she prayed for him so hard, so beseechingly, so eloquently, he was +amazed and touched. + +She rose from her knees, and laid her head on her hand, exhausted a +little by her own earnestness. + +He stood by her, and hung his head. + +"You are very good," he said. "It is a shame to let you waste it on me. +Look here--I want to do a little bit of good to another man, after you +praying so beautifully." + +"Ah! I am so glad. Tell me." + +"Well, then, you mustn't waste a thought on me, Rhoda. I'm a gambler +and a fool: let me go to the dogs at once; it is only a question of +time: but there's a fellow here that is in trouble, and doesn't deserve +it, and he was a faithful friend to you, I believe. I never was. And he +has got a wife: and by what I hear, you could get him out, I think, and +I am sure you would be angry with me afterward if I didn't tell you; +you have such a good heart. It is Sir Charles Bassett." + +"Sir Charles Bassett here! Oh, his poor wife! What drove him mad? Poor, +poor Sir Charles!" + +"Oh, he is all right. They have cured him entirely; but there is no +getting him out, and he is beginning to lose heart, they say. There's a +literary swell here can tell you all about it; he has come down +expressly: but they are in a fix, and I think you could help them out. +I wish you would let me introduce you to him." + +"To whom?" + +"To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels." + +"I adore him. Introduce me at once. But Sir Charles must not see me, +nor know I am here. Say Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett's, begs to +be introduced." + +Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe; but whispered out of his own +head, "A character for your next novel--a saint with the devil's own +temper." + +This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her directly. + +As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, these two knew +each other intimately in about twelve minutes; and Rolfe told her all +the facts I have related, and Marsh went into several passions, and +corrected herself, and said she had been a great sinner, but was +plucked from the burning, and therefore thankful to anybody who would +give her a little bit of good to do. + +Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged her to see the +Commissioners in Lunacy, and use all her eloquence to get one of them +down. "They don't act upon my letters," said he; "but it will be +another thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts it to them in person, +with all that power of face and voice I see in you. You are all fire; +and you can talk Saxon." + +"Oh, I'll talk to them," said Mrs. Marsh, "and God will give me words; +He always does when I am on His side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heart +bleeds for her. I will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night, if you +like. To-night? I'll go this instant!" + +"What!" said Rolfe: "is there a lady in the world who will go a journey +without packing seven trunks--and merely to do a good action?" + +"You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost time." + +"At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose none. So I'll arm +you at once with certain documents, and you must not leave the +commissioners till they promise to send one of their number down +without delay to examine him, and discharge him if he is as we +represent." + +Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe to Dr. Suaby's study. + +They armed her with letters and written facts, and she rode off at a +fiery pace; but not before she and Rolfe had sworn eternal friendship. + +The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She was chilled, but not +daunted. She produced Suaby's letter and Rolfe's, and when they were +read she played the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, she +convinced, she persuaded, she thundered. Fire seemed to come out of the +woman. + +Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, caught fire, and +declared he would go down next day and look into the matter on the +spot; and he kept his word. He came down; he saw Sir Charles and Suaby, +and penetrated the case. + +Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good heart, but rather +an arrogant manner. He was also slightly affected with official +pomposity and reticence; so, unfortunately, he went away without +declaring his good intentions, and discouraged them all with the fear +of innumerable delays in the matter. + +Now if Justice is slow, Injustice is swift. The very next day a +thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles and his friends. + +Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers from an asylum +kept by Burdoch, a layman, the very opposite of the benevolent Suaby. +His was a place where the old system of restraint prevailed, secretly +but largely: strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleas +and bugs destroyed the patients' rest; and to counteract the insects +morphia was administered freely. Given to the bugs and fleas, it would +have been an effectual antidote; but they gave it to the patients, and +so the insects won. + +These three keepers came with an order correctly drawn, and signed by +Richard Bassett, to deliver Sir Charles to the agents showing the +order. + +Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at the sight of the +order, and took it to Rolfe. + +"Resist!" said that worthy. + +"I have no right." + +"On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while I--Has Bassett +paid you for Sir Charles's board?" + +"No." + +"Decline to give him up till that is done, and be some time making out +the bill. Come what may, pray keep Sir Charles here till I send you a +note that I am ready." + +He then hastened to Sir Charles and unfolded his plans, to him. + +Sir Charles assented eagerly. He was quite willing to run risks with +the hope of immediate liberation, which Rolfe held out. His own part +was to delay and put off till he got a line from Rolfe. + +Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole and the doctor's dog-cart, and +dashed into the town, distant two miles. + +First he went to the little theater, and found them just concluding a +rehearsal. Being a playwright, he was known to nearly all the people, +more or less, and got five supers and one carpenter to join him--for a +consideration. + +He then made other arrangements in the town, the nature of which will +appear in due course. + +Meantime Suaby had presented his bill. One of the keepers got into the +fly and took it back to the town. There, as Rolfe had anticipated, +lurked Richard Bassett. He cursed the delay, gave the man the money, +and urged expedition. The money was brought and paid, and Suaby +informed Sir Charles. + +But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry. He took a long time to pack; +and he was not ready till Vandeleur brought a note to him from Rolfe. + +Then Sir Charles came down. + +Suaby made Burdoch's keeper sign a paper to the effect that he had the +baronet in charge, and relieved Suaby of all further responsibility. + +Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. Suaby, and made him +promise to visit him at Huntercombe Hall. + +Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, and the fly +drove off. + +Sir Charles at that moment needed all his fortitude. The least mistake +or miscalculation on the part of his friends, and what might not be the +result to him? + +As the fly went slowly through the gate he saw on his right hand a +light carriage and pair moving up; but was it coming after him, or only +bringing visitors to the asylum? + +The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. It rolled and +rolled. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. He tried to look out of +the window to see if the carriage was following. + +One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. "Come, none of that, sir?" + +"You insolent scoundrel!" said Sir Charles. + +"Ay, ay," said the man; "we'll see about that when we get you home." + +Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive blackguard. + +He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over him. + +Just then they passed a little clump of fir-trees. + +In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number of men in crape +masks, stopped the horses, surrounded the carriage, and opened it with +brandishing of bludgeons and life-preservers, and pointing of guns. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A BIG man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of ferocious oaths at +the keepers, and threatened to send them to hell that moment if they +did not instantly deliver up that gentleman. + +The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for mercy. + +"Hand him out here, you scoundrels!" + +"Yes! yes! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is the use?" + +"Hand down his luggage." + +It was done all in a flutter. + +"Now get in again; turn your horses' heads the other way, and don't +come back for an hour. You with your guns take stations in those trees, +and shoot them dead if they are back before their time." + +These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, and Burdoch's party +were glad to get off, and they drove away quickly in the direction +indicated. + +However, as soon as they got over their first surprise they began to +smell a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it was scarcely twenty minutes +when they came back. + +But meantime the supers were paid liberally among the fir-trees by +Vandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung their dummy guns into a +cornfield, dispersed in different directions, and left no trace. + +But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment he was recaptured +he and his luggage were whisked off in the other carriage, and, with +Rolfe and his secretary, dashed round the town, avoiding the main +street, to a railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit. +Not that they dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and a firm +determination to fight if necessary, and also three tongues to tell the +truth, instead of one. + +At one in the morning they were in London. They slept at Mr. Rolfe's +house; and before breakfast Mr. Rolfe's secretary was sent to secure a +couple of prize-fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till further +notice. They were furnished with a written paper explaining the case +briefly, and were instructed to hit first and talk afterward should a +recapture be attempted. Should a crowd collect, they were to produce +the letter. These measures were to provide against his recapture under +the statute, which allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken upon the old +certificates for fourteen days after his escape from confinement, but +for no longer. + +Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these. + +Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his wife and +child. The faithful pugilists followed at his heels in another cab. + +Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Rolfe knew Lady Bassett's address: it was +the medical man who had written: but that did not much matter; Sir +Charles was sure to learn his wife's address from Mr. Boddington. He +called on that gentleman at 17 Upper Gloucester Place. Mr. Boddington +had just taken his wife down to Margate for her health; had only been +gone half an hour. + +This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently Sir Charles must +wait that gentleman's return. He wrote a line, begging Mr. Boddington +to send him Lady Bassett's address in a cab immediately on his return. + +He told Mr. Rolfe this; and then for the first time let out that his +wife's not writing to him at the asylum had surprised and alarmed him; +he was on thorns. + +Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, and at breakfast +time Sir Charles had a note to say Lady Bassett was at 119 Gloucester +Place, Portman Square. + +Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and then dashed off +in a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place. + +There was a bill in the window, "To be let, furnished. Apply to Parker +& Ellis." + +He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked again. A lugubrious female +opened the door. + +"Lady Bassett?" + +"Don't live here, sir. House to be let." + +Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told him. + +Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mistaken; but he would +look at his address-book. He did, and said it was certainly 119 +Gloucester Place; "Perhaps she has left," said he. "She was very +healthy--an excellent patient. But I should not have advised her to +move for a day or two more." + +Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the agents, Parker & +Ellis. + +They said, Yes; the house was Lady Bassett's for a few months. They +were instructed to let it. + +"When did she leave? I am her husband, and we have missed each other +somehow." + +The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had brought the keys in her +carriage yesterday. + +Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance. + +"Did she give you no address?" + +"Yes, sir. Huntercombe Hall." + +"I mean no address in London?" + +"No, sir; none." + +Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, and all manner of +strange ideas came into his head. He did not know what to do, but he +could not bear to do nothing, so he drove to the _Times_ office and +advertised, requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to Mr. +Rolfe. + +At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe. + +That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by the +last post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett to +her husband. + + + +"119 Gloucester Place. + +"DARLING--The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for the +noise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy carriage. +Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journey +will be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you and +I were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soon +be again, I hope. + +"Your devoted wife. + +"BELLA BASSETT. + +"My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing." + + + +Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfe +persuaded him not. "And mind," said he, "the faithful pugilists must go +with you." + +The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letter +from Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positively +discharged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett. + +Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosom +friend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife. + +She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, and +when he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a +window opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and saw +his wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him. He +rushed upstairs, into the right room by some mighty instinct, and held +her, panting and crying for joy, in his arms. + +That moment almost compensated what each had suffered. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +So full was the joy of this loving pair that, for a long time, they sat +rocking in each other's arms, and thought of nothing but their sorrows +past, and the sea of bliss they were floating on. + +But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. Swift to +interpret his every look, Lady Bassett rose, took two steps, came back +and printed a kiss on his forehead, and then went to a door and opened +it. + +"Mrs. Millar!" said she, with one of those tones by which these ladies +impregnate with meaning a word that has none at all; and then she came +back to her husband. + +Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a biggish bank of linen +and lace, with a little face in the middle. The good woman held it up +to Sir Charles, and he felt something novel stir inside him. He looked +at the little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, and a +good deal of curiosity; and then turned smiling to his wife. She had +watched him furtively but keenly, and her eyes were brimming over. He +kissed the little thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife's +hands, and kissed her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at baby +with him, hand in hand. It was a pretty picture. + +The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple women do when they +exhibit a treasure of this sort; she lifted the little mite slowly up +and down, and said, "Oh, you Beauty!" and then went off into various +inarticulate sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of the +new philosophers: they cannot have been invented after speech; that +would be retrogression; they must be the vocal remains of that hairy, +sharp-eared quadruped, our Progenitor, who by accident discovered +language, and so turned Biped, and went ahead of all the other hairy +quadrupeds, whose ears were too long or not sharp enough to stumble +upon language. + +Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett drew her husband a +little apart, and looking in his face with piteous wistfulness, said, +"You won't mind Richard Bassett and his baby now?" + +"Not I." + +"You will never have another fit while you live?" + +"I promise." + +"You will always be happy?" + +"I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear." + +"Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel!" And she pounced +on the mite, and kissed it far harder than Sir Charles had. Heaven +knows what these gentle creatures are so rough with their mouths to +children, but so it is. + +And now how can a mere male relate all the pretty childish things that +were done and said to baby, and of baby, before the inevitable +squalling began, and baby was taken away to be consoled by another of +his subjects. + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other, +to murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other. + +But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassett +plucked up courage and said, "Charles, I am not quite happy. There is +one thing wanting." And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed. +"I cannot nurse him." + +"Never mind," said Sir Charles kindly. + +"You forgive me?" + +"Forgive you, my poor girl! Why, is that a crime?" + +"It leads to so many things. You don't know what a plague a nurse is, +and makes one jealous." + +"Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is a little +peevish. Don't let us be ungrateful to Heaven. As for me, while you and +our child live, I am proof against much greater misfortunes than that." + +Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped. + +But it was renewed next morning in a more definite form. + +Sir Charles rose early; and in the pride and joy of his heart, and not +quite without an eye to triumphing over his mortal enemy and his cold +friends, sent a mounted messenger with orders to his servants to +prepare for his immediate reception, and to send out his landau and +four horses to the "Rose," at Staveleigh, half-way between Huntercombe +and the place where he now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself able +for the journey. + +After breakfast he asked her rather suddenly whether Mrs. Millar was +not rather an elderly woman to select for a nurse. "I thought people +got a young woman for that office." + +"Oh," said Lady Bassett, "why, Mrs. Millar is not _the_ nurse. Of +course nurse is young and healthy, and from the country, and the best I +could have in every way for baby. But yet--oh, Charles, I hope you will +not be angry--who do you think nurse is? It is Mary Gosport--Mary Wells +that was." + +Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and that together, and +said, "Why, she must have been playing the fool, then?" + +"Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman now, and her husband +gone to sea, and her child dead. Most wet-nurses have a child of their +own; and don't you think they must hate the stranger's child that parts +them from their own? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And the wet-nurse +is always a tyrant; and I thought, as this one has got into a habit of +obeying me, she might be more manageable; and then as to her having +been imprudent, I know many ladies who have been obliged to shut their +eyes a little. Why, consider, Charles, would good wives and good +mothers leave their own children to nurse a stranger's? Would their +husbands let them? And I thought," said she, piteously, "we were so +fortunate to get a young, healthy girl, imprudent but not vicious, +whose fault had been covered by marriage, and then so attached to us +both as she is, poor thing!" + +Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of mole-hills. "Why, my +dear Bella," said he, "after all, this is your department, not mine." + +"Yes, but unless I please you in every department there is no happiness +for me." + +"But you know you please me in everything; and the more I look into +anything, the wiser I always think you. You have chosen the best +wet-nurse possible. Send her to me." + +Lady Bassett hesitated. "You will be kind to her. You know the +consequence if anything happens to make her fret. Baby will suffer for +it." + +"Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she potentate till he is weaned. +Dress for the journey, my dear, and send nurse to me." + +Lady Bassett went into the next room, and after a long time Mary came +to Sir Charles with baby in her arms. + +Mary had lost for a time some of her ruddy color, but her skin was +clearer, and somehow her face was softened. She looked really a +beautiful and attractive young woman. + +She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good look at him. + +"Well, nurse," said he, cheerfully, "here we are back again, both of +us." + +"That we be, sir." And she showed her white teeth in a broad smile. +"La, sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. How well you do look, to be +sure!" + +"Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. You look pretty well +too; only a little pale; paler than Lady Bassett does." + +"I give my color to the child," said Mary, simply. + +She did not know she had said anything poetic; but Sir Charles was so +touched and pleased with her answer that he gave her a five-pound note +on the spot; and he said, "We'll bring your color back if beef and beer +and kindness can do it." + +"I ain't afeard o' that, sir; and I'll arn it. 'Tis a lovely boy, sir, +and your very image." + +Inspection followed; and something or other offended young master; he +began to cackle. But this nurse did not take him away, as Mrs. Millar +had. She just sat down with him and nursed him openly, with rustic +composure and simplicity. + +Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, and eyed the pair; for +all this was a new world of feeling to him. His paid servant seemed to +him to be playing the mother to his child. Somehow it gave him a +strange twinge, a sort of vicarious jealousy: he felt for his Bella. +But I think his own paternal pride, in all its freshness, was hurt a +little too. + +At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out of the room, with +a hint to Mary that she must wrap herself up, for it would be an open +carriage-- + +"Your own carriage, sir, and horses?" + +"Certainly." + +"And do all the folk know as we are coming?" + +Sir Charles laughed. "Most likely. Gossip is not dead at Huntercombe, I +dare say." + +Nurse's black eyes flashed. "All the village will be out. I hope _he_ +will see us ride in, the black-hearted villain!" + +Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into that topic; he went +about his business. + + + +Lady Bassett's carriage, duly packed, came round, and Lady Bassett was +ready soon afterward; so was Mrs. Millar; so was baby, imbedded now in +a nest of lawn and lace and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. Lady +Bassett explained _sotto voce_ to her husband, "Just at the last moment +she was seized with a desire to wear a silk gown I gave her. I argued +with her, but she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very hard +upon _you,_ dear." + +Her face and voice were so piteous that Sir Charles burst out laughing. + +"We must take the bitter along with the sweet. Don't you think the +sweet rather predominates at present?" + +Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. "My darling is happy +now; trifles cannot put him out." + +"I doubt if anything could shake me while I have you and our child. As +for that jade keeping us all waiting while she dons silk attire, it is +simply delicious. I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!" + +Mrs. Gosport appeared at last in a purple silk gown, and marched to the +carriage without the slightest sign of the discomfort she really felt; +but that was no wonder, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walk +not only smiling but jauntily, though dead lame on stilts, as you may +see any day in Regent Street. + +Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby and his attendants in +first, then Lady Bassett, and got in last himself. + +Before they had gone a mile Nurse No. 1 handed the child over to Nurse +No. 2 with a lofty condescension, as who should say, "You suffice for +porterage; I, the superior artist, reserve myself for emergencies." No. +2 received the invaluable bundle with meek complacency. + +By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her position. + +"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett, kindly. "Is the dress +too tight?" + +"No, no, my lady," said Mary, sharply; "the gownd's all right." And +then she was quiet a little. + +But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whispered Sir Charles, "I +think she wants to sit forward: _may_ I?" + +"Certainly not. I'll change with her. Here, Mary, try this side. We +shall have more room in the landau; it is double, with wide seats." + +Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of the window. +Indeed, she was quiet for nearly half an hour. At the expiration of +that period the fit took her again. She beckoned haughtily for baby, +"which did come at her command," as the song says. She got tired of +baby, or something, and handed him back again. + +Presently she was discovered to be crying. + +General consternation! Universal but vague consolation! + +Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. Millar looked back +assent. Lady Bassett assumed the command, and took off Mary's shawl. + +_"Yes,"_ said she to Mrs. Millar. "Now, Mary, be good; it _is_ too +tight." + +Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty effort, while Lady +Bassett attacked the fastenings, and, with infinite difficulty, they +unhooked three bottom hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, and +the awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can command, and +how savagely abuse it to maltreat nature. + +Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh of relief told the +truth, which the lying tongue had denied, as it always does whenever +the same question is put. + +The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they entered the town +of Staveleigh. + +Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, and took the child +again. He was her banner in all public places. + +When they came up to the inn they were greeted with loud hurrahs. It +was market-day. The town was full of Sir Charles's tenants and other +farmers. His return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty had +resolved to ride with him into Huntercombe. + +When five or six, all shouting together, intimated this to Sir Charles, +he sent one of his people to order the butchers out to Huntercombe with +joints a score, and then to gallop on with a note to his housekeeper +and butler. "For those that ride so far with me must sup with me," said +he; a sentiment that was much approved. + +He took Lady Bassett and the women upstairs and rested them about an +hour; and then they started for Huntercombe, followed by some thirty +farmers and a dozen towns-people, who had a mind for a lark and to sup +at Huntercombe Hall for once. + +The ride was delightful; the carriage bowled swiftly along over a +smooth road, with often turf at the side; and that enabled the young +farmers to canter alongside without dusting the carriage party. Every +man on horseback they overtook joined them; some they met turned back +with them, and these were rewarded with loud cheers. Every eye in the +carriage glittered, and every cheek was more or less flushed by this +uproarious sympathy so gallantly shown, and the very thunder of so many +horses' feet, each carrying a friend, was very exciting and glorious. +Why, before they got to the village they had fourscore horsemen at +their backs. + +As they got close to the village Mary Gosport held out her arms for +young master: this was not the time to forego her importance. + +The church-bells rang out a clashing peal, the cavalcade clattered into +the village. Everybody was out to cheer, and at sight of baby the +women's voices were as loud as the men's. Old pensioners of the house +were out bareheaded; one, with hair white as snow, was down on his +knees praying a blessing on them. + +Lady Bassett began to cry softly; Sir Charles, a little pale, but firm +as a rock; both bowing right and left, like royal personages; and well +they might; every house in the village belonged to them but one. + +On approaching that one Mary Gosport turned her head round, and shot a. +glance round out of the tail of her eye. Ay, there was Richard Bassett, +pale and gloomy, half-hid behind a tree at his gate: but Hate's quick +eye discerned him: at the moment of passing she suddenly lifted the +child high, and showed it him, pretending to show it to the crowd: but +her eye told the tale; for, with that act of fierce hatred and cunning +triumph, those black orbs shot a colored gleam like a furious +leopardess's. + +A roar of cheers burst from the crowd at that inspired gesture of a +woman, whose face and eyes seemed on fire: Lady Bassett turned pale. + +The next moment they passed their own gate, and dashed up to the hall +steps of Huntercombe. + +Sir Charles sent Lady Bassett to her room for the night. She walked +through a row of ducking servants, bowing and smiling like a gentle +goddess. + +Mary Gosport, afraid to march in a long dress with the child, for fear +of accidents, handed him superbly to Millar and strutted haughtily +after her mistress, nodding patronage. Her follower, the meek Millar, +stopped often to show the heir right and left, with simple geniality +and kindness. + +Sir Charles stood on the hall steps, and invited all to come in and +take pot-luck. + +Already spits were turning before great fires; a rump of beef, legs of +pork, and pease-puddings boiling in one copper; turkeys and fowls in +another; joints and pies baking in the great brick ovens; barrels of +beer on tap, and magnums of champagne and port marching steadily up +from the cellars, and forming in line and square upon sideboards and +tables. + +Supper was laid in the hall, the dining-room, the drawing-room, and the +great kitchen. + +Poor villagers trickled in: no man or woman was denied; it was open +house that night, as it had been four hundred years ago. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +WHEN Sharpe's clerk retired, after serving that writ on Bassett, +Bassett went to Wheeler and treated it as a jest. But Wheeler looked +puzzled, and Bassett himself, on second thoughts, said he should like +advice of counsel. Accordingly they both went up to London to a +solicitor, and obtained an interview with a counsel learned in the law. +He heard their story, and said, "The question is, can you convince a +jury he was insane at the time?" + +"But he can't get into court," said Bassett. "I won't let him." + +"Oh, the court will make you produce him." + +"But I thought an insane person was civiliter mortuus, and couldn't +sue." + +"So he is; but this man is not insane in law. Shutting up a man on +certificates is merely a preliminary step to a fair trial by his peers +whether he is insane or not. Take the parallel case of a felon. A +magistrate commits him for trial, and generally on better evidence than +medical certificates; but that does not make the man a felon, or +disentitle him to a trial by his peers; on the contrary, it entitles +him to a trial, and he could get Parliament to interfere if he was not +brought to trial. This plaintiff simply does what, he will say, you +ought to have done; he tries himself; if he tries you at the same time, +that is your fault. If he is insane now, fight. If he is not, I advise +you to discharge him on the instant, and then compound." + +Wheeler said he was afraid the plaintiff was too vindictive to come to +terms. + +"Well, then, you can show you discharged him the moment you had reason +to think he was cured, and you must prove he was insane when you +incarcerated him; but I warn you it will be uphill work if he is sane +now; the jury will be apt to go by what they see." + +Bassett and Wheeler retired; the latter did not presume to differ; but +Bassett was dissatisfied and irritated. + +"That fellow would only see the plaintiff's side," said he. "The fool +forgets there is an Act of Parliament, and that we have complied with +its provisions to a T." + +"Then why did you not ask his construction of the Act?" suggested +Wheeler. + +"Because I don't want his construction. I've read it, and it is plain +enough to anybody but a fool. Well, I have consulted counsel, to please +you; and now I'll go my own way, to please myself." + +He went to Burdoch, and struck a bargain, and Sir Charles was to be +shifted to Burdoch's asylum, and nobody allowed to see him there, etc., +etc.; the old system, in short, than which no better has as yet been +devised for perpetuating, or even causing, mental aberration. + +Rolfe baffled this, as described, and Bassett was literally stunned. He +now saw that Sir Charles had an ally full of resources and resolution. +Who could it be? He began to tremble. He complained to the police, and +set them to discover who had thus openly and audaciously violated the +Act of Parliament, and then he went and threatened Dr. Suaby. + +But Rolfe and Sir Charles, who loved Suaby as he deserved, had provided +against that; they had not let the doctor into their secret. He +therefore said, with perfect truth, that he had no hand in the matter, +and that Sir Charles, being bound upon his honor not to escape from +Bellevue, would be in the asylum still if Mr. Bassett had not taken him +out, and invoked brute force, in the shape of Burdoch. "Well, sir," +said he, "it seems they have shown you two can play at that game." And +so bade him good afternoon very civilly. + +Bassett went home sickened. He remained sullen and torpid for a day or +two; then he wrote to Burdoch to send to London and try and recapture +Sir Charles. + +But next day he revoked his instructions, for he got a letter from the +Commissioners of Lunacy, announcing the authoritative discharge of Sir +Charles, on the strong representation of Dr. Suaby and other competent +persons. + +That settled the matter, and the poor cousin had kept the rich cousin +three months at his own expense, with no solid advantage, but the +prospect of a lawsuit. + +Sharpe, spurred by Rolfe, gave him no breathing time. With the utmost +expedition the Declaration in Bassett _v._ Bassett followed the writ. + +It was short, simple, and in three counts. + +"For violently seizing and confining the plaintiff in a certain place, +on a false pretense that he was insane. + +"For detaining him in spite of evidence that he was not insane. + +"For endeavoring to remove him to another place, with a certain +sinister motive there specified. + +"By which several acts the plaintiff had suffered in his health and his +worldly affairs, and had endured great agony of mind." + +And the plaintiff claimed damages, ten thousand pounds. + +Bassett sent over for his friend Wheeler, and showed him the new +document with no little consternation. + +But their discussion of it was speedily interrupted by the clashing of +triumphant bells and distant shouting. + +They ran out to see what it was. Bassett, half suspecting, hung back; +but Mary Gosport's keen eye detected him, and she held up the heir to +him, with hate and triumph blazing in her face. + +He crept into his own house and sank into a chair foudroye. + +Wheeler, however, roused him to a necessary effort, and next day they +took the Declaration to counsel, to settle their defense in due form. + +"What is this?" said the learned gentleman. "Three counts! Why, I +advised you to discharge him at once." + +"Yes," said Wheeler, "and excellent advice it was. But my client--" + +"Preferred to go his own road. And now I am to cure the error I did +what I could to prevent." + +"I dare say, sir, it is not the first time in your experience." + +"Not by a great many. Clients, in general, have a great contempt for +the notion that prevention is better than cure." + +"He can't hurt me," said Bassett, impatiently. "He was separately +examined by two doctors, and all the provisions of the statute exactly +complied with." + +"But that is no defense to this plaint. The statute forbids you to +imprison an insane person without certain precautions; but it does not +give you a right, under any circumstances, to imprison a sane man. That +was decided in Butcher _v. _Butcher. The defense you rely on was +pleaded as a second plea, and the plaintiff demurred to it directly. +The question was argued before the full court, and the judges, led by +the first lawyer of the age, decided unanimously that the provisions of +the statute did not affect sane Englishmen and their rights under the +common law. They ordered the plea to be struck off the record, and the +case was reduced to a simple issue of sane or insane. Butcher _v._ +Butcher governs all these cases. Can you prove him insane? If not, you +had better compound on any terms. In Butcher's case the jury gave 3,000 +pounds, and the plaintiff was a man of very inferior position to Sir +Charles Bassett. Besides, the defendant, Butcher, had not persisted +against evidence, as you have. They will award 5,000 pounds at least in +this case." + +He took down a volume of reports, and showed them the case he had +cited; and, on reading the unanimous decision of the judges, and the +learning by which they were supported, Wheeler said at once: "Mr. +Bassett, we might as well try to knock down St. Paul's with our heads +as to go against this decision." + +They then settled to put in a single plea, that Sir Charles was insane +at the time of his capture. + +This done, to gain time, Wheeler called on Sharpe, and, after several +conferences, got the case compounded by an apology, a solemn +retractation in writing, and the payment of four thousand pounds; his +counsel assured him his client was very lucky to get off so cheap. + +Bassett paid the money, with the assistance of his wife's father: but +it was a sickener; it broke his spirit, and even injured his health for +some time. + +Sir Charles improved the village with the money, and gave a copy-hold +tenement to each of the men Bassett had got imprisoned. So they and +their sons and their grandsons lived rent free--no, now I think of it, +they had to pay four pence a year to the Lord of the Manor. + + + +Defeated at every point, and at last punished severely, Richard Bassett +fell into a deep dejection and solitary brooding of a sort very +dangerous to the reason. He would not go out-of-doors to give his +enemies a triumph. He used to sit by the fire and mutter, "Blow upon +blow, blow upon blow. My poor boy will never be lord of Huntercombe +now!" and so on. + +Wheeler pitied him, but could not rouse him. At last a person for whose +narrow attainments and simplicity he had a profound, though, to do him +justice, a civil contempt, ventured to his rescue. Mrs. Bassett went +crying to her father, and told him she feared the worst if Richard's +mind could not be diverted from the Huntercombe estate and his hatred +of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, which had been the great misfortune of +her life and of his own, but nothing would ever eradicate it. Richard +had great abilities; was a linguist, a wonderful accountant; could her +dear father find him some profitable employment to divert his thoughts? + +"What! all in a moment?" said the old man. "Then I shall have to _buy_ +it; and if I go on like this I shall not have much to leave you." + +Having delivered this objection, he went up to London, and, having many +friends in the City, and laying himself open to proposals, he got scent +at last of a new insurance company that proposed also to deal in +reversions, especially to entailed estates. By prompt purchase of +shares in Bassett's name, and introducing Bassett himself, who, by +special study, had a vast acquaintance with entailed estates, and a +genius for arithmetical calculation, he managed somehow to get him into +the direction, with a stipend, and a commission on all business he +might introduce to the office. + +Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time between London and +the country. + +Wheeler worked with him on a share of commission, and they made some +money between them. + +After the bitter lesson he had received Bassett vowed to himself he +never would attack Sir Charles again unless he was sure of victory. For +all this he hated him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them to +the death. + +He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor said a word; but in +London he employed a private inquirer to find out where Lady Bassett +had lived at the time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman had +visited her. + +The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, comparing his +advertisements with his performance, dismissed him for a humbug. + +But the office brought him into contact with a great many medical men, +one after another. He used to say to each stranger, with an insidious +smile, "I think you once attended my cousin--Lady Bassett." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +SIR CHARLES and Lady Bassett, relieved of their cousin's active enmity, +led a quiet life, and one that no longer furnished striking incidents. + +But dramatic incident is not everything: character and feeling show +themselves in things that will not make pictures. Now it was precisely +during this reposeful period that three personages of this story +exhibited fresh traits of feeling, and also of character. + +To begin with Sir Charles Bassett. He came back from the asylum much +altered in body and mind. Stopping his cigars had improved his stomach; +working in the garden had increased his muscular power, and his cheeks +were healthy, and a little sunburned, instead of sallow. His mind was +also improved: contemplation of insane persons had set him by a natural +recoil to study self-control. He had returned a philosopher. No small +thing could irritate him now. So far his character was elevated. + +Lady Bassett was much the same as before, except a certain +restlessness. She wanted to be told every day, or twice a day, that her +husband was happy; and, although he was visibly so, yet, as he was +quiet over it, she used to be always asking him if he was happy. This +the reader must interpret as he pleases. + +Mary Gosport gave herself airs. Respectful to her master and mistress, +but not so tolerant of chaff in the kitchen as she used to be. Made an +example of one girl, who threw a doubt on her marriage. Complained to +Lady Bassett, affected to fret, and the girl was dismissed. + +She turned singer. She had always sung psalms in church, but never a +profane note in the house. Now she took to singing over her nursling; +she had a voice of prodigious power and mellowness, and, provided she +was not asked, would sing lullabies and nursery rhymes from another +county that ravished the hearer. Horsemen have been known to stop in +the road to hear her sing through an open window of Huntercombe, two +hundred yards off. + +Old Mr. Meyrick, a farmer well-to-do, fascinated by Mary Gosport's +singing, asked her to be his housekeeper when she should have done +nursing her charge. + +She laughed in his face. + +A fanatic who was staying with Sir Charles Bassett offered her three +years' education in Do, Ra, Mi, Fa, preparatory to singing at the +opera. + +Declined without thanks. + +Mr. Drake, after hovering shyly, at last found courage to reproach her +for deserting him and marrying a sailor. + +"Teach you not to shilly-shally," said she. "Beauty won't go a-begging. +Mind you look sharper next time." + +This dialogue, being held in the kitchen, gave the women some amusement +at the young farmer's expense. + +One day Mr. Richard Bassett, from motives of pure affection no doubt, +not curiosity, desired mightily to inspect Mr. Bassett, aged eight +months and two days. + +So, in his usual wily way, he wrote to Mrs. Gosport, asking her, for +old acquaintance' sake, to meet him in the meadow at the end of the +lawn. This meadow belonged to Sir Charles, but Richard Bassett had a +right of way through it, and could step into it by a postern, as Mary +could by an iron gate. + +He asked her to come at eleven o'clock, because at that hour he +observed she walked on the lawn with her charge. + +Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. Bassett. + +Richard was very polite; she cold, taciturn, observant. + +At last he said, "But where's the little heir?" + +She flew at him directly. "It is him you wanted, not me. Did you think +I'd bring him here--for you to kill him?" + +"Come, I say." + +"Ay, you'd kill him if you had a chance. But you never shall. Or if you +didn't kill him, you'd cast the evil-eye on him, for you are well known +to have the evil-eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lord +of these here manors when thou is gone to hell, thou villain." + +Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest thing he could--put +his hands in his pockets, and walked into his own premises, followed, +however, by Mary Gosport, who stormed at him till he shut his postern +in her face. + +She stood there trembling for a little while, then walked away, crying. + +But having a mind like running water, she was soon seated on a garden +chair, singing over her nursling like a mavis: she had delivered him to +Millar while she went to speak her mind to her old lover. + +As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so turned every thing +one way. To be sure, as long as the woman's glaring eyes and face +distorted by passion were before him, he interpreted her words simply; +but when he thought the matter over he said to himself, "The evil-eye! +That is all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett's secrets; and I am not +to see young master: some day I shall know the reason why." + + + +Sir Charles Bassett now belonged to the tribe of clucking cocks quite +as much as his cousin had ever done; only Sir Charles had the good +taste to confine his clucks to his own first-floor. Here, to be sure, +he richly indemnified himself for his self-denial abroad. He sat for +hours at a time watching the boy on the ground at his knee, or in his +nurse's arms. + +And while he watched the infant with undisguised delight, Lady Bassett +would watch _him_ with a sort of furtive and timid complacency. + +Yet at times she suffered from twinges of jealousy--a new complaint +with her. + +I think I have mentioned that Sir Charles, at first, was annoyed at +seeing his son and heir nursed by a woman of low condition. Well, he +got over that feeling by degrees, and, as soon as he did get over it, +his sentiments took quite an opposite turn. A woman for whom he did +very little, in his opinion--since what, in Heaven's name, were a +servant's wages?--he saw that woman do something great for him; saw her +nourish his son and heir from her own veins; the child had no other +nurture; yet the father saw him bloom and thrive, and grow +surprisingly. + +A weak observer, or a less enthusiastic parent, might have overlooked +all this; but Sir Charles had naturally an observant eye and an +analytical mind, and this had been suddenly but effectually developed +by the asylum and his correspondence with Rolfe. + +He watched the nurse, then, and her maternal acts with a curious and +grateful eye, and a certain reverence for her power. + +He observed, too, that his child reacted on the woman: she had never +sung in the house before; now she sang ravishingly--sang, in low, +mellow, yet sonorous notes, some ditties that had lulled mediaeval +barons in their cradles. + +And what had made her vocal made her beautiful at times. + +Before, she had appeared to him a handsome girl, with the hardish look +of the lower classes; but now, when she sat in a sunny window, and +lowered her black lashes on her nursling, with the mixed and delicious +smile of an exuberant nurse relieving and relieved, she was soft, +poetical, sculptorial, maternal, womanly. + +This species of contemplation, though half philosophical, half +paternal, and quite innocent, gave Lady Bassett some severe pangs. + +She hid them, however; only she bided her time, and then suggested the +propriety of weaning baby. + +But Mrs. Gosport got Sir Charles's ear, and told him what magnificent +children they reared in her village by not weaning infants till they +were eighteen months old or so. + +By this means, and by crying to Lady Bassett, and representing her +desolate condition with a husband at sea, she obtained a reprieve, +coupled, however, with a good-humored assurance from Sir Charles that +she was the greatest baby of the two. + +When the inevitable hour approached that was to dethrone her she took +to reading the papers, and one day she read of a disastrous wreck, the +_Carbrea Castle_--only seven saved out of a crew of twenty-three. She +read the details carefully, and two days afterward she received a +letter written by a shipmate of Mr. Gosport's, in a handwriting not +very unlike her own, relating the sad wreck of the _Carbrea Castle,_ +and the loss of several good sailors, James Gosport for one. + +Then the house was filled with the wailing and weeping of the bereaved +widow; and at last came consolers and raised doubts; but then somebody +remembered to have seen the loss of that very ship in the paper. The +paper was found, and the fatal truth was at once established. + +Upon this Mr. Bassett was weaned as quickly as possible, and the widow +clothed in black at Lady Bassett's expense, and everything in reason +done to pet her and console her. + +But she cried bitterly, and said she would throw herself into the sea +and follow her husband. + +Huntercombe was nowhere near the coast. + +At last, however, she relented, and concluded to remain on earth as +dry-nurse to Mr. Bassett. + +Sir Charles did not approve this: it seemed unreasonable to turn a +wet-nurse into a dry-nurse when that office was already occupied by a +person her senior and more experienced. + +Lady Bassett agreed with him, but shrugged her shoulders and said, "Two +nurses will not hurt, and I suspect it will not be for long. Mary does +not feel her husband's loss one bit." + +"Surely you are mistaken. She howls loud enough." + +"Too loud--much," said Lady Bassett, dryly. + +Her perspicuity was not deceived. In a very short time Mr. Meyrick, +unable to get her for his housekeeper, offered her marriage. + +"What!" said she, "and James Gosport not dead a month?" + +"Say the word now, and take your own time," said he. + +"Well, I might do worse," said she. + +About six weeks after this Drake came about her, and in tender tones of +consolation suggested that it is much better for a pretty girl to marry +one who plows the land than one who plows the sea. + +"That is true," said Mary, with a sigh; "I have found it to my sorrow." + +After this Drake played a bit with her, and then relented, and one +evening offered her marriage, expecting her to jump eagerly at his +offer. + +"You be too late, young man," said she, coolly; "I'm bespoke." + +"Doan't ye say that! How can ye be bespoke? Why, t'other hain't been +dead four months yet." + +"What o' that? This one spoke for me within a week. Why, our banns are +to be cried to-morrow; come to church and hear 'em; that will learn ye +not to shilly-shally so next time." + +"Next time!" cried Drake, half blubbering; then, with a sudden roar, +"what, be you coming to market again, arter this?" + +"Like enough: he is a deal older than I be. 'Tis Mr. Meyrick, if ye +must know." + +Now Mr. Meyrick was well-to-do, and so Drake was taken aback. + +"Mr. Meyrick!" said he, and turned suddenly respectful. + +But presently a view of a rich widow flitted before his eye. + +"Well," said he, "you shan't throw it in my teeth again as I speak too +late. I ask you now, and no time lost." + +"What! am I to stop my banns, and jilt Farmer Meyrick for _thee?"_ + +"Nay, nay. But I mean I'll marry you, if you'll marry me, as soon as +ever the breath is out of that dall'd old hunks's body." + +"Well, well, Will Drake," said Mary, gravely, "if I do outlive this +one--and you bain't married long afore--and if you keeps in the same +mind as you be now--and lets me know it in good time--I'll see about +it." + +She gave a flounce that made her petticoats whisk like a mare's tail, +and off to the kitchen, where she related the dialogue with an +appropriate reflection, the company containing several of either sex. +"Dilly-Dally and Shilly-Shally, they belongs to us as women be. I hate +and despise a man as can't make up his mind in half a minnut." + +So the widow Gosport became Mrs. Meyrick, and lived in a farmhouse not +quite a mile from the Hall. + +She used often to come to the Hall, and take a peep at her lamb: this +was the name she gave Mr. Bassett long after he had ceased to be a +child. + + + +About four years after the triumphant return to Huntercombe, Lady +Bassett conceived a sudden coldness toward the little boy, though he +was universally admired. + +She concealed this sentiment from Sir Charles, but not from the female +servants: and, from one to another, at last it came round to Sir +Charles. He disbelieved it utterly at first; but, the hint having been +given him, he paid attention, and discovered there was, at all events, +some truth in it. + +He awaited his opportunity and remonstrated: "My dear Bella, am I +mistaken, or do I really observe a falling off in your tenderness for +your child?" + +Lady Bassett looked this way and that, as if she meditated flight, but +at last she resigned herself, and said, "Yes, dear Charles; my heart is +quite cold to him." + +"Good Heavens, Bella! But why? Is not this the same little angel that +came to our help in trouble, that comforted me even before his birth, +when my mind was morbid, to say the least?" + +"I suppose he is the same," said she, in a tone impossible to convey by +description of mine. + +"That is a strange answer." + +"If he is, _I_ am changed." And this she said doggedly and unlike +herself. + +"What!" said Sir Charles, very gravely, and with a sort of awe: "can a +woman withdraw her affection from her child, her innocent child? If so, +my turn may come next." + +"Oh, Charles! Charles!" and the tears began to well. + +"Why, who can be secure after this? What is so stable as a mother's +love? If that is not rooted too deep for gusts of caprice to blow it +away, in Heaven's name, what is?" + +No answer to that but tears. + +Sir Charles looked at her very long, attentively, and seriously, and +said not another syllable. + +But his dropping so suddenly a subject of this importance was rather +suspicious, and Lady Bassett was too shrewd not to see that. + +They watched each other. + +But with this difference: Sir Charles could not conceal his anxiety, +whereas the lady appeared quite tranquil. + +One day Sir Charles said, cheerfully, "Who do you think dines here +to-morrow, and stays all night? Dr. Suaby." + +"By invitation, dear?" asked Lady Bassett, quietly. + +Sir Charles colored a little, and said, quietly, "Yes." + +Lady Bassett made no remark, and it was impossible to tell by her face +whether the visit was agreeable or not. + +Some time afterward, however, she said, "Whom shall I ask to meet Dr. +Suaby?" + +"Nobody, for Heaven's sake!" + +"Will not that be dull for him?" + +"I hope not." + +"You will have plenty to say to him, eh, darling?" + +"We never yet lacked topics. Whether or no, his is a mind I choose to +drink neat." + +"Drink him neat?" + +"Undiluted with rural minds." + +"Oh!" + +She uttered that monosyllable very dryly, and said no more. + +Dr. Suaby came next day, and dined with them, and Lady Bassett was +charming; but rather earlier than usual she said, "Now I am sure you +and Dr. Suaby must have many things to talk about," and retired, +casting back an arch, and almost a cunning smile. + +The door closed on her, the smile fled, and a somber look of care and +suffering took its place. + +Sir Charles entered at once on what was next his heart, told Dr. Suaby +he was in some anxiety, and asked him if he had observed anything in +Lady Bassett. + +"Nothing new," said Dr. Suaby; "charming as ever." + +Then Sir Charles confided to Dr. Suaby, in terms of deep feeling and +anxiety, what I have coldly told the reader. + +Dr. Suaby looked a little grave, and took time to think before he +spoke. + +At last he delivered an opinion, of which this is the substance, though +not the exact words. + +"It is sudden and unnatural, and I cannot say it does not partake of +mental aberration. If the patient was a man I should fear the most +serious results; but here we have to take into account the patient's +sex, her nature, and her present condition. Lady Bassett has always +appeared to me a very remarkable woman. She has no mediocrity in +anything; understanding keen, perception wonderfully swift, heart large +and sensitive, nerves high strung, sensibilities acute. A person of her +sex, tuned so high as this, is always subject, more or less, to +hysteria. It is controlled by her intelligence and spirit; but she is +now, for the time being, in a physical condition that has often +deranged less sensitive women than she is. I believe this about the boy +to be a hysterical delusion, which will pass away when her next child +is born. That is to say, she will probably ignore her first-born, and +everything else, for a time; but these caprices, springing in reality +from the body rather than the mind, cannot endure forever. When she has +several grown-up children the first-born will be the favorite. It comes +to that at last, my good friend." + +"These are the words of wisdom," said Sir Charles; "God bless you for +them!" + +After a while he said, "Then what you advise is simply--patience?" + +"No, I don't say that. With such a large house as this, and your +resources, you might easily separate them before the delusion grows any +farther. Why risk a calamity?" + +"A calamity?" and Sir Charles began to tremble. + +"She is only cold to the child as yet. She might go farther, and fancy +she hated it. _Obsta principiis:_ that is my motto. Not that I really +think, for a moment, the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind to +control her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a chance?" + +"I will not run the shadow of a chance," said Sir Charles, resolutely; +"let us come upstairs: my decision is taken." + +The very next day Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, and asked if he +could come to any arrangement with her to lodge Mr. Bassett and his +nurse under her roof. "The boy wants change of air," said he. + +Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all terms. "No," said +she, "the child I have suckled shall never pay me for his lodging. Why +should he, sir, when I'd pay _you_ to let him come, if I wasn't afeard +of offending you?" + +Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentleman of tact, said, +"You are very good: well, then, I must remain your debtor for the +present." + +He then took his leave, but she walked with him a few yards, just as +far as the wicket, gate that separated her little front garden from the +high-road. + +"I hope," said she, "my lady will come and see me when my lamb is with +me; a sight of her would be good for sore eyes. She have never been +here but once, and then she did not get out of her carriage." + +"Humph!" said Sir Charles, apologetically; "she seldom goes out now; +you understand." + +"Oh, I've heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for her; for my lady +has been a good friend to me, sir, and if you will believe me, I often +sets here and longs for a sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and her +hair like sunshine, that I've had in my hand so often. Well, sir, I +hope it will be a girl this time, a little girl with golden hair; +that's what I wants this time. They'll be the prettiest pair in +England." + +"With all my heart," said Sir Charles; "girl or boy, I don't care +which; but I'd give a few thousands if it was here, and the mother +safe." + +He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feelings of his heart to +a farmer's wife. To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boy +off all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he had done. + +She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what she had done. + +He soothed her, and said she was not to blarne at all; and she must not +blame him either. He had done it for the best. + +"After all, you are the master," said she, submissively. + +"I am," said he, "and men will be tyrants, you know." + +Then she flung her arm round her tyrant's neck, and there was an end of +the discussion. + +One day he inquired for her, and heard, to his no small satisfaction, +she had driven to Mrs. Meyrick's, with a box of things for Mr. Bassett. +She stayed at the farmhouse all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he had +done the right thing. + +Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference between a nursling +and a rampageous little boy. + +Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, vigorous, active, +restless, and, unfortunately, as strong on his pins as most boys of +six. It took two women to look after him, and smart ones too, so +swiftly did he dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. +Meyrick simplified matters in some degree by locking the large gate, +and even the small wicket, and ordering all the farm people and +milkmaids to keep an eye on him, and bring him straight to her if he +should stray, for he seemed to hate in-doors. Never was such a boy. + +Nevertheless, such as had not the care of him admired the child for his +beauty and his assurance. He seemed to regard the whole human race as +one family, of which he was the rising head. The moment he caught sight +of a human being he dashed at it and into conversation by one unbroken +movement. + +Now children in general are too apt to hide their intellectual +treasures from strangers by shyness. + +One day this ready converser was standing on the steps of the house, +when a gentleman came to the wicket gate, and looked over into the +garden. + +Young master darted to the gate directly, and getting his foot on the +lowest bar and his hands on the spikes, gave tongue. + +"Who are you? _I'm_ Mr. Bassett. I don't live here; I'm only staying. +My home is Huncom Hall. I'm to have it for myself when papa dies. I +didn't know dat till I come here. How old are you? I'm half past +four--" + +A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was clutched up by Mrs. +Meyrick, who snatched him away with a wild glance of terror and +defiance, and bore him swiftly into the house, with words ringing in +her ears that cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she could +punish. She sat down on a bench, flung young master across her knee in +a minute, and bestowed such a smacking on him as far transcended his +wildest dreams of the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm. + +The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with were these: + +"Too late! I've SEEN THE PARSON'S BRAT." + + + +Richard Bassett mounted his horse and rode over to Wheeler, for he +could no longer wheedle the man of law over to Highmore, and I will +very briefly state why. + +1st. About three years ago an old lady, one of his few clients, left +him three thousand pounds, just reward of a very little law and a vast +deal of gossip. + +2d. The head solicitor of the place got old and wanted a partner. +Wheeler bought himself in, and thenceforth took his share of a good +business, and by his energy enlarged it, though he never could found +one for himself. + +3d. He married a wife. + +4th. She was a pretty woman, and blessed with jealousy of a just and +impartial nature: she was equally jealous of women, men, books, +business--anything that took her husband from her. + +No more sleeping out at Highmore; no more protracted potations; no more +bachelor tricks for Wheeler. He still valued his old client and +welcomed him; but the venue was changed, so to speak. + +Richard Bassett was kept waiting in the outer office; but when he did +get in he easily prevailed on Wheeler to send the next client or two to +his partner, and give him a full hearing. + +Then he opened his business. "Well," said he, "I've seen him at last!" + +"Seen him? seen whom?" + +"The boy they have set up to rob my boy of the estate. I've seen him, +Wheeler, seen him close; and HE'S AS BLACK AS MY HAT." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +WHEELER, instead of being thunder-stricken, said quietly, "Oh, is he? +Well?" + +"Sir Charles is lighter than I am: Lady Bassett has a skin like satin, +and red hair." + +"Red! say auburn gilt. I never saw such lovely hair." + +"Well," said Richard, impatiently, "then the boy has eyes like sloes, +and a brown skin, like an Italian, and black hair almost; it will be +quite." + +"Well," said Wheeler, "it is not so very uncommon for a dark child to +be born of fair parents, or _vice versa._ I once saw an urchin that was +like neither father nor mother, but the image of his father's +grandfather, that died eighty years before he was born. They used to +hold him up to the portrait." + +Said Bassett, "Will you admit that it is uncommon?" + +"Not so uncommon as for a high-bred lady, living in the country, and +adored by her husband, to trifle with her marriage vow, for that is +what you are driving at." + +"Then we have to decide between two improbabilities: will you grant me +that, Mr. Wheeler?" + +"Yes." + +"Then suppose I can prove fact upon fact, and coincidence upon +coincidence, all tending one way! Are you so prejudiced that nothing +will convince you?" + +"No. But it will take a great deal: that lady's face is full of purity, +and she fought us like one who loved her husband." + +_"Fronti nulla fides:_ and as for her fighting, her infidelity was the +weapon she defeated us with. Will you hear me?" + +"Yes, yes; but pray stick to facts, and not conjectures." + +"Then don't interrupt me with childish arguments: + +_"Fact 1._--Both reputed parents fair; the boy as black as the ace of +spades. + +_"Fact 2._--A handsome young fellow was always buzzing about her +ladyship, and he was a parson, and ladies are remarkably fond of +parsons. + +_"Fact 3._--This parson was of Italian breed, dark, like the boy. + +_"Fact 4._--This dark young man left Huntercombe one week, and my lady +left it the next, and they were both in the city of Bath at one time. + +_"Fact 5._--The lady went from Bath to London. The dark young man went +from Bath to London." + +"None of this is new to me," said Wheeler, quietly. + +"No; but it is the rule, in estimating coincidences, that each fresh +one multiplies the value of the others. Now the boy looking so Italian +is a new coincidence, and so is what I am going to tell you--at last I +have found the medical man who attended Lady Bassett in London." + +"Ah!" + +"Yes, sir; and I have learned _Fact 6._--Her ladyship rented a house, +but hired no servants, and engaged no nurse. She had no attendant but a +lady's maid, no servant but a sort of charwoman. + +_"Fact 7._--She dismissed this doctor unusually soon, and gave him a +very large fee. + +_"Fact 8._--She concealed her address from her husband." + +"Oh! can you prove that?" + +"Certainly. Sir Charles came up to town, and had to hunt for her, came +to this very medical man, and asked for the address his wife had not +given him; but lo! when he got there the bird was flown. + +_"Fact 9._--Following the same system of concealment, my lady levanted +from London within ten days of her confinement. + +"Now put all these coincidences together. Don't you see that she had a +lover, and that he was about her in London and other places? Stop! +_Fact 10._--Those two were married for years, and had no child but this +equivocal one; and now four years and a half have passed, during all +which time they have had none, and the young parson has been abroad +during that period." + +Wheeler was staggered and perplexed by this artful array of +coincidences. + +"Now advise me," said Bassett. + +"It is not so easy. Of course if Sir Charles was to die, you could +claim the estate, and give them a great deal of pain and annoyance; but +the burden of proof would always rest on you. My advice is not to +breathe a syllable of this; but get a good detective, and push your +inquiries a little further among house agents, and the women they put +into houses; find that charwoman, and see if you can pick up anything +more." + +"Do you know such a thing as an able detective?" + +"I know one that will work if I instruct him." + +"Instruct him, then." + +"I will." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +LADY BASSETT, as her time of trial drew near, became despondent. + +She spoke of the future, and tried to pierce it; and in all these +little loving speculations and anxieties there was no longer any +mention of herself. + +This meant that she feared her husband was about to lose her. I put the +fear in the very form it took in that gentle breast. + +Possessed with this dread, so natural to her situation, she set her +house in order, and left her little legacies of clothes and jewels, +without the help of a lawyer; for Sir Charles, she knew, would respect +her lightest wish. + +To him she left her all, except these trifles, and, above all--a +manuscript book. It was the history of her wedded life. Not the bare +outward history; but such a record of a sensitive woman's heart as no +male writer's pen can approach. + +It was the nature of her face and her tongue to conceal; but here, on +this paper, she laid bare her heart; here her very subtlety operated, +not to hide, but to dissect herself and her motives. + +But oh, what it cost her to pen this faithful record of her love, her +trials, her doubts, her perplexities, her agonies, her temptations, and +her crime! Often she laid down the pen, and hid her face in her hands. +Often the scalding tears ran down that scarlet face. Often she writhed +at her desk, and wrote on, sighing and moaning. Yet she persevered to +the end. It was the grave that gave her the power. "When he reads +this," she said, "I shall be in my tomb. Men make excuses for the dead. +My Charles will forgive me when I am gone. He will know I loved him to +desperation." + +It took her many days to write; it was quite a thick quarto; so much +may a woman feel in a year or two; and, need I say that, to the reader +of that volume, the mystery of her conduct was all made clear as +daylight; clearer far, as regards the revelation of mind and feeling, +than I, dealer in broad facts, shall ever make it, for want of a +woman's mental microscope and delicate brush. + +And when this record was finished, she wrapped it in paper, and sealed +it with many seals, and wrote on it, + +"Only for my husband's eye. From her who loved him not wisely, But too +well." + +And she took other means that even the superscription should never be +seen of any other eye but his. It was some little comfort to her, when +the book was written. + +She never prayed to live. But she used to pray, fervently, piteously, +that her child might live, and be a comfort and joy to his father. + + + +The person employed by Wheeler discovered the house agent, and the +woman he had employed. + +But these added nothing to the evidence Bassett had collected. + +At last, however, this woman, under the influence of a promised reward, +discovered a person who was likely to know more about the matter--viz., +the woman who was in the house with Lady Bassett at the very time. + +But this woman scented gold directly: so she held mysterious language; +declined to say a word to the officer; but intimated that she knew a +great deal, and that the matter was, in truth, well worth looking into, +and she could tell some strange tales, if it was worth her while. + +This information was sent to Bassett; he replied that the woman only +wanted money for her intelligence, and he did not blame her; he would +see her next time he went to town, and felt sure she would complete his +chain of evidence. This put Richard Bassett into extravagant spirits. +He danced his little boy on his knee, and said, "I'll run this little +horse against the parson's brat; five to one, and no takers." + +Indeed, his exultation was so loud and extravagant that it jarred on +gentle Mrs. Bassett. As for Jessie, the Scotch servant, she shook her +head, and said the master was fey. + +In the morning he started for London, still so exuberant and excited +that the Scotch woman implored her mistress not to let him go; there +would be an accident on the railway, or something. But Mrs. Bassett +knew her husband too well to interfere with his journeys. + +Before he drove off he demanded his little boy. + +"He must kiss me," said he, "for I'm going to work for him. D'ye hear +that, Jane? This day makes him heir of Huntercombe and Bassett." + +The nurse brought word that Master Bassett was not very well this +morning. + +"Let us look at him," said Bassett. + +He got out of his gig, and went to the nursery. He found his little boy +had a dry cough, with a little flushing. + +"It is not much," said he; "but I'll send the doctor over from the +town." + +He did so, and himself proceeded up to London. + +The doctor came, and finding the boy labored in breathing, administered +a full dose of ipecacuanha. This relieved the child for the time; but +about four in the afternoon he was distressed again, and began to cough +with a peculiar grating sound. + +Then there was a cry of dismay--"The croup!" The doctor was gone for, +and a letter posted to Richard Bassett, urging him to come back +directly. + +The doctor tried everything, even mercury, but could not check the +fatal discharge; it stiffened into a still more fatal membrane. + +When Bassett returned next afternoon, in great alarm, he found the poor +child thrusting its fingers into its mouth, in a vain attempt to free +the deadly obstruction. + +A warm bath and strong emetics were now administered, and great relief +obtained. The patient even ate and drank, and asked leave to get up and +play with a new toy he had. But, as often happens in this disorder, a +severe relapse soon came, with a spasm of the glottis so violent and +prolonged that the patient at last resigned the struggle. Then pain +ceased forever; the heavenly smile came; the breath went; and nothing +was left in the little white bed but a fair piece of tinted clay, that +must return to the dust, and carry thither all the pride, the hopes, +the boasts of the stricken father, who had schemed, and planned, and +counted without Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death. + +As for the child himself, his lot was a happy one, if we could but see +what the world is really worth. He was always a bright child, that +never cried, nor complained: his first trouble was his last; one day's +pain, then bliss eternal: he never got poisoned by his father's spirit +of hate, but loved and was beloved during his little lifetime; and, +dying, he passed from his Noah's ark to an inheritance a thousand times +richer than Huntercombe, Bassett, and all his cousin's lands. + + + +The little grave was dug, the bell tolled, and a man bowed double with +grief saw his child and his ambition laid in the dust. + +Lady Bassett heard the bell tolled, and spoke but two words: "Poor +woman!" + +She might well say so. Mrs. Bassett was in the same condition as +herself, yet this heavy blow must fall on her. + +As for Richard Bassett, he sat at home, bowed down and stupid with +grief. + +Wheeler came one day to console him; but, at the sight of him, +refrained from idle words. He sat down by him for an hour in silence. +Then he got up and said, "Good-by." + +"Thank you, old friend, for not insulting me," said Bassett, in a +broken voice. + +Wheeler took his hand, and turned away his head, and so went away, with +a tear in his eye. + +A fortnight after this he came again, and found Bassett in the same +attitude, but not in the same leaden stupor. On the contrary, he was in +a state of tremor; he had lost, under the late blow, the sanguine mind +that used to carry him through everything. + +The doctor was upstairs, and his wife's fate trembled in the balance. + +"Stay by me," said he, "for all my nerve is gone. I'm afraid I shall +lose her; for I have just begun to value her; and that is how God deals +with his creatures--the merciful God, as they call him." + +Wheeler thought it rather hard God Almighty should be blamed because +Dick Bassett had taken eight years to find out his wife's merit; but he +forbore to say so. He said kindly that he would stay. + +Now while they sat in trying suspense the church-bells struck up a +merry peal. + +Bassett started violently and his eyes gave a strange glare. "That's +the other!" said he; for he had heard about Lady Bassett by this time. + +Then he turned pale. "They ring for him: then they are sure to toll for +me." + +This foreboding was natural enough in a man so blinded by egotism as to +fancy that all creation, and the Creator himself, must take a side in +Bassett _v._ Bassett. + +Nevertheless, events did not justify that foreboding. The bells had +scarcely done ringing for the happy event at Huntercombe, when joyful +feet were heard running on the stairs; joyful voices clashed together +in the passage, and in came a female servant with joyful tidings. Mrs. +Bassett was safe, and the child in the world. "The loveliest little +girl you ever saw!" + +"A girl!" cried Richard Bassett with contemptuous amazement. Even his +melancholy forebodings had not gone that length. "And what have they +got at Huntercombe?" + +"Oh, it is a boy, sir, there." + +"Of course." + +The ringers heard, and sent one of their number to ask him if they +should ring. + +"What for?" asked Bassett with a nasty glittering eye; and then with +sudden fury he seized a large piece of wood from the basket to fling at +his insulter. "I'll teach you to come and mock me." + +The ringer vanished, ducking. + +"Gently," said Wheeler, "gently." + +Bassett chucked the wood back into the basket, and sat down gloomily, +saying, "Then how dare he come and talk about ringing bells for a girl? +To think that I should have all this fright, and my wife all this +trouble--for a girl!" + + + +It was no time to talk of business then; but about a fortnight +afterward Wheeler said, "I took the detective off, to save you +expense." + +"Quite right," said Bassett, wearily. + +"I gave you the woman's address; so the matter is in your hands now, I +consider." + +"Yes," said Bassett, wearily; "Move no further in it." + +"Certainly not; and, frankly, I should be glad to see you abandon it." + +"I _have_ abandoned it. Why should I stir the mud now? I and mine are +thrown out forever; the only question is, shall a son of Sir Charles or +the parson's son inherit? I'm for the wrongful heir. Ay," he cried, +starting up, and beating the air with his fists in sudden fury, "since +the right Bassetts are never to have it, let the wrong Bassetts be +thrown out, at all events; I'm on my back, but Sir Charles is no better +off; a bastard will succeed him, thanks to that cursed woman who +defeated _me."_ + +This turn took Wheeler by surprise. It also gave him real pain. +"Bassett," said he, "I pity you. What sort of a life has yours been for +the last eight years? Yet, when there's no fuel left for war and +hatred, you blow the embers. You are incurable." + +"I am," said Richard. "I'll hate those two with my last breath and +curse them in my last prayer." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +LADY BASSETT'S forebodings, like most of our insights into the future, +were confuted by the event. + +She became the happy mother of a flaxen-haired boy. She insisted on +nursing him herself; and the experienced persons who attended her +raised no objection. + +In connection with this she gave Sir Charles a peck, not very severe, +but sudden, and remarkable as the only one on record. + +He was contemplating her and her nursling with the deepest affection, +and happened to say, "My own Bella, what delight it gives me to see +you!" + +"Yes," said she, "we will have only one mother this time, will we, my +darling? and it shall be Me." Then suddenly, turning her head like a +snake, "Oh, I saw the looks you gave that woman!" + +This was the famous peck; administered in return for a look that he had +bestowed on Mary Gosport not more than five years ago. + +Sir Charles would, doubtless, have bled to death on the spot, but +either he had never been aware how he looked, or time and business had +obliterated the impression, for he was unaffectedly puzzled, and said, +"What woman do you mean, dear?" + +"No matter, darling," said Lady Bassett, who had already repented her +dire severity: "all I say is that a nurse is a rival I could not endure +now; and another thing, I do believe those wet-nurses give their +disposition to the child: it is dreadful to think of." + +"Well, if so, baby is safe. He will be the most amiable boy in +England." + +"He shall be more amiable than I am--scolding my husband of husbands;" +and she leaned toward him, baby and all, for a kiss from his lips. + +We say at school "Seniores priores"--let favor go by seniority; but +where babies adorn the scene, it is "juniores priores" with that sex to +which the very young are confided. + +To this rule, as might be expected, Lady Bassett furnished no +exception; she was absorbed in baby, and trusted Mr. Bassett a good +deal to his attendant, who bore an excellent character for care and +attention. + +Now Mr. Bassett was strong on his pins and in his will, and his +nurse-maid, after all, was young; so he used to take his walks nearly +every day to Mrs. Meyrick's: she petted him enough, and spoiled him in +every way, while the nurse-maid was flirting with the farm-servants out +of sight. + +Sir Charles Bassett was devoted to the boy, and used always to have him +to his study in the morning, and to the drawing-room after dinner, when +the party was small, and that happened much oftener now than +heretofore; but at other hours he did not look after him, being a +business man, and considering him at that age to be under his mother's +care. + +One day the only guest was Mr. Rolfe; he was staying in the house for +three days, upon a condition suggested by himself--viz., that he might +enjoy his friends' society in peace and comfort, and not be set to roll +the stone of conversation up some young lady's back, and obtain +monosyllables in reply, faintly lisped amid a clatter of fourteen +knives and forks. As he would not leave his writing-table on any milder +terms, they took him on these. + +After dinner in came Mr. Bassett, erect, and a proud nurse with little +Compton, just able to hold his nurse's gown and toddle. + +Rolfe did not care for small children; he just glanced at the angelic, +fair-haired infant, but his admiring gaze rested on the elder boy. + +"Why, what is here--an Oriental prince?" + +The boy ran to him directly. "Who are you?" + +"Rolfe the writer. Who are you--the Gipsy King?" + +"No; but I am very fond of gypsies. I'm _Mister_ Bassett; and when papa +dies I shall be Sir Charles Bassett." + +Sir Charles laughed at this with paternal fatuity, especially as the +boy's name happened to be Reginald Francis, after his grandfather. + +Rolfe smiled satirically, for these little speeches from children did +much to reconcile him to his lot. + +"Meantime," said he, "let us feed off him; for it may be forty years +before we can dance over his grave. First let us see what is the +unwholesomest thing on the table." + +He rose, and to the infinite delight of Mr. Bassett, and even of Master +Compton, who pointed and crowed from his mother's lap, he got up on his +chair, and put on a pair of spectacles to look. + +"Eureka!" said he; "behold that dish by Lady Bassett; those are +_marrons glaces;_ fetch them here, and let us go in for a fit of the +gout at once." + +"Gout! what's that?" inquired Mr. Bassett. + +"Don't ask me." + +"You don't know. + +"Not know! What, didn't I tell you I was Rolfe the writer? Writers know +everything. That is what makes them so modest." + +Mr. Bassett was now unnaturally silent for five minutes, munching +chestnuts; this enabled his guests to converse; but as soon as he had +cleared his plate, he cut right across the conversation, with that +savage contempt for all topics but his own which characterizes +gentlemen of his age, and says he to Rolfe, "You know everything? Then +what's a parson's brat?" + +"Well, that's the one thing I don't know," said Rolfe; "but a brat I +take to be a boy who interrupts ladies and gentlemen with nonsense when +they are talking sense." + +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Rolfe," said Lady Bassett. "That +remark was very much needed." + +Then she called Reginald to her, and lectured him, _sotto voce,_ to the +same tune. + +"You old bachelors are rather hard," said Sir Charles, not very well +pleased. + +"We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. After all, it is no +wonder. What a superb boy it is!--Here is nurse. I'm so sorry. Now we +shall be cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and I +shall not be expected to--(good-night, little flaxen angel; good-by, +handsome and loquacious demon; kiss and be friends)--expected to know, +all in a minute, what is a parson's brat. By-the-by, talking of +parsons, what has become of Angelo?" + +"He has been away a good many years. Consumption, I hear." + +"He was a fine-built fellow too; was he not, Lady Bassett?" + +"I don't know; but he was beautifully strong. I think I see him now +carrying dear Charles in his arms all down the garden." + +"Ah, you see he was raised in a university that does not do things by +halves, but trains both body and mind, as they did at Athens; for the +union of study and athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it is +only a return to antiquity." + +Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir Charles glanced at +his, and sent them to his study. Lady Bassett had but one. She said, +_"May_ I?" to both gentlemen, and then opened it. + +"How strange!" said she. "It is from Mr. Angelo: just a line to say he +is coming home quite cured." + +She began this composedly, but blushed afterward--blushed quite red. + +_"May_ I?" said she, and tossed it delicately half-way to Rolfe. He +handed it to Sir Charles. + +Some remarks were then made about the coincidence, and nothing further +passed worth recording at that time. + +Next day Lady Bassett, with instinctive curiosity, asked Master +Reginald how he came to put such a question as that to Mr. Rolfe. + +"Because I wanted to know." + +"But what put such words into your head? I never heard a gentleman say +such words; and you must never say them again, Reginald." + +"Tell me what it means, and I won't," said he. + +"Oh," said Lady Bassett, "since you bargain with me, sir, I must +bargain with you. Tell me first where you ever heard such words." + +"When I was staying at nurse's. Ah, that was jolly." + +"You like that better than being here?" + +"Yes." + +"I am sorry for that. Well, dear, did nurse say that? Surely not?" + +"Oh, no; it was the man." + +"What man?" + +"Why, the man that came to the gate one morning, and talked to me, and +I talked to him, and that nasty nurse ran out and caught us, and +carried me in, and gave me such a hiding, and all for nothing." + +"A hiding! What words the poor child picks up! But I don't understand +why nurse should beat _you."_ + +"For speaking to the man. She said he was a bad man, and she would kill +me if ever I spoke to him again." + +"Oh, it was a bad man, and said bad words--to somebody he was +quarreling with?" + +"No, he said them to nurse because she took me away." + +"What _did_ he say, Reginald?" asked Lady Bassett, becoming very grave +and thoughtful all at once. + +"He said, 'That's too late; I've seen the parson's brat.'" + +"Oh!" + +"And I've asked nurse again and again what it meant, but she won't tell +me. She only says the man is a liar, and I am not to say it again; and +so I never did say it again--for a long time; but last night, when +Rolfe the writer said he knew everything, it struck my head--what is +the matter, mamma?" + +"Nothing; nothing." + +"You look so white. Are you ill, mamma?" and he went to put his arms +round her, which was a mighty rare thing with him. + +She trembled a good deal, and did not either embrace him or repel him. +She only trembled. + +After some time she recovered herself enough to say, in a voice and +with a manner that impressed itself at once on this sharp boy: +"Reginald, your nurse was quite right. Understand this: the man was +your enemy--and mine; the words he said you must not say again. It +would be like taking up dirt and flinging some on your own face and +some on mine." + +"I won't do that," said the boy, firmly. "Are you afraid of the man +that you look so white?" + +"A man with a woman's tongue--who can help fearing?" + +"Don't you be afraid; as soon as I'm big enough, I'll kill him." + +Lady Bassett looked with surprise at the child, he uttered this resolve +with such a steady resolution. + +She drew him to her, and kissed him on the forehead. + +"No, Reginald," said she; "we must not shed blood; it is as wicked to +kill our enemies as to kill any one else. But never speak to him, never +even listen to him; if he tries to speak to you, run away from him, and +don't let him--he is our enemy." + +That same day she went to Mrs. Meyrick, to examine her. But she found +the boy had told her all there was to tell. + +Mrs. Meyrick, whose affection for her was not diminished, was downright +vexed. "Dear me!" said she; "I did think I had kept that from vexing of +you. To think of the dear child hiding it for nigh two years, and then +to blurt it out like that! Nobody heard him I hope?" + +"Others heard; but--" + +"Didn't heed; the Lord be praised for that." + +"Mary," said Lady Bassett, solemnly, "I am not equal to another battle +with Mr. Richard Bassett; and such a battle! Better tell all, and die." + +"Don't think of it," said Mary. "You're safe from Richard Bassett now. +Times are changed since he came spying to my gate. His own boy is gone. +You have got two. He'll lie still if you do. But if you tell your tale, +he must hear on't, and he'll tell his. For God's sake, my lady, keep +close. It is the curse of women that they can't just hold their +tongues, and see how things turn. And is this a time to spill good +liquor? Look at Sir Charles! why, he is another man; he have got flesh +on his bones now, and color into his cheeks, and 'twas you and I made a +man of him. It is my belief you'd never have had this other little +angel but for us having sense and courage to see what _must_ be done. +Knock down our own work, and send him wild again, and give that Richard +Bassett a handle? You'll never be so mad." + +Lady Bassett replied. The other answered; and so powerfully that Lady +Bassett yielded, and went home sick at heart, but helpless, and in a +sea of doubt. + +Mr. Angelo did not call. Sir Charles asked Lady Bassett if he had +called on her. + +She said "No." + +"That is odd," said Sir Charles. "Perhaps he thinks we ought to welcome +him home. Write and ask him to dinner." + +"Yes, dear. Or you can write." + +"Very well, I will. No, I will call." + +Sir Charles called, and welcomed him home, and asked him to dinner. +Angelo received him rather stiffly at first, but accepted his +invitation. + +He came, looking a good deal older and graver, but almost as handsome +as ever; only somewhat changed in mind. He had become a zealous +clergyman, and his soul appeared to be in his work. He was distant and +very respectful to Lady Bassett; I might say obsequious. Seemed almost +afraid of her at first. + +That wore off in a few months; but he was never quite so much at his +ease with her as he had been before he left some years ago. + + + +And so did time roll on. + +Every morning and every night Lady Bassett used to look wistfully at +Sir Charles, and say-- + +"Are you happy, dear? Are you sure you are happy?" + +And he used always to say, and with truth, that he was the happiest man +in England, thanks to her. + +Then she used to relax the wild and wistful look with which she asked +the question, and give a sort of sigh, half content, half resignation. + +In due course another fine boy came, and filled the royal office of +baby in his turn. + +But my story does not follow him. + + + +Reginald was over ten years old, and Compton nearly six. They were as +different in character as complexion--both remarkable boys. + +Reginald, Sir Charles's favorite, was a wonderful boy for riding, +running, talking; and had a downright genius for melody; he whistled to +the admiration of the village, and latterly he practiced the fiddle in +woods and under hedges, being aided and abetted therein by a gypsy boy +whom he loved, and who, indeed, provided the instrument. + +He rode with Sir Charles, and rather liked him; his brother he never +noticed, except to tease him. Lady Bassett he admired, and almost loved +her while she was in the act of playing him undeniable melodies. But he +liked his nurse Meyrick better, on the whole; she flattered him more, +and was more uniformly subservient. + +With these two exceptions he despised the whole race of women, and +affected male society only, especially of grooms, stable-boys, and +gypsies; these last welcomed him to their tents, and almost prostrated +themselves before him, so dazzled were they by his beauty and his +color. It is believed they suspected him of having gypsy blood in his +veins. They let him into their tents, and even into some of their +secrets, and he promised them they should have it all their own way as +soon as he was Sir Reginald; he had outgrown his original theory that +he was to be Sir Charles on his father's death. + +He hated in-doors; when fixed by command to a book, would beg hard to +be allowed to take it into the sun; and at night would open his window +and poke his black head out to wash in the moonshine, as he said. + +He despised ladies and gentlemen, said they were all affected fools, +and gave imitations of all his father's guests to prove it; and so keen +was this child of nature's eye for affectation that very often his +disapproving parents were obliged to confess the imp had seen with his +fresh eye defects custom had made them overlook, or the solid good +qualities that lay beneath had overbalanced. + +Now all this may appear amusing and eccentric, and so on, to strangers; +but after the first hundred laughs or so with which paternal indulgence +dismisses the faults of childhood, Sir Charles became very grave. + +The boy was his darling and his pride. He was ambitious for him. He +earnestly desired to solve for him a problem which is as impossible as +squaring the circle, viz., how to transmit our experience to our +children. The years and the health he had wasted before he knew Bella +Bruce, these he resolved his successor should not waste. He looked +higher for this beautiful boy than for himself. He had fully resolved +to be member for the county one day; but he did not care about it for +himself; it was only to pave the way for his successor; that Sir +Reginald, after a long career in the Commons, might find his way into +the House of Peers, and so obtain dignity in exchange for antiquity; +for, to tell the truth, the ancestors of four-fifths of the British +House of Peers had been hewers of wood and drawers of water at a time +when these Bassetts had already been gentlemen of distinction for +centuries. + +All this love and this vicarious ambition were now mortified daily. +Some fathers could do wonders for a brilliant boy, and with him; they +expect him, and a dull boy appears; that is a bitter pill; but this was +worse. Reginald was a sharp boy; he could do anything; fasten him to a +book for twenty minutes, he would learn as much as most boys in an +hour; but there was no keeping him to it, unless you strapped him or +nailed him, for he had the will of a mule, and the suppleness of an eel +to carry out his will. And then his tastes--low as his features were +refined; he was a sort of moral dung-fork; picked up all the slang of +the stable and scattered it in the dining-room and drawing-room; and +once or twice he stole out of his comfortable room at night, and slept +in a gypsy's tent with his arm round a gypsy boy, unsullied from his +cradle by soap. + +At last Sir Charles could no longer reply to his wife at night as he +had done for this ten years past. He was obliged to confess that there +was one cloud upon his happiness. "Dear Reginald grieves me, and makes +me dread the future; for if the child is father to the man, there is a +bitter disappointment in store for us. He is like no other boy; he is +like no human creature I ever saw. At his age, and long after, I was a +fool; I was a fool till I knew you; but surely I was a gentleman. I +cannot see myself again--in my first-born." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +LADY BASSETT was paralyzed for a minute or two by this speech. At last +she replied by asking a question--rather a curious one. "Who nursed +you, Charles?" + +"What, when I was a baby? How can I tell? Yes, by-the-by, it was my +mother nursed me--so I was told." + +"And your mother was a Le Compton. This poor boy was nursed by a +servant. Oh, she has some good qualities, and is certainly devoted to +us--to this day her face brightens at sight of me--but she is +essentially vulgar; and do you remember, Charles, I wished to wean him +early; but I was overruled, and the poor child drew his nature from +that woman for nearly eighteen months; it is a thing unheard of +nowadays." + +"Well, but surely it is from our parents we draw our nature." + +"No; I think it is from our nurses. If Compton or Alec ever turn out +like Reginald, blame nobody but their nurse, and that is Me." + +Sir Charles smiled faintly at this piece of feminine logic, and asked +her what he should do. + +She said she was quite unable to advise. Mr. Rolfe was coming to see +them soon; perhaps he might be able to suggest something. + +Sir Charles said he would consult him; but he was clear on one +thing--the boy must be sent from Huntercombe, and so separated from all +his present acquaintances. + +Mr. Rolfe came, and the distressed father opened his heart to him in +strict confidence respecting Reginald. + +Rolfe listened and sympathized, and knit his brow, and asked time to +consider what he had heard, and also to study the boy for himself. + +He angled for him next day accordingly. A little table was taken out on +the lawn, and presently Mr. Rolfe issued forth in a uniform suit of +dark blue flannel and a sombrero hat, and set to work writing a novel +in the sun. + +Reginald in due course descried this figure, and it smacked so of that +Bohemia to which his own soul belonged that he was attracted thereby, +but made his approaches stealthily, like a little cat. + +Presently a fiddle went off behind a tree, so close that the novelist +leaped out of his seat with an eldrich screech; for he had long ago +forgotten all about Mr. Reginald, and, when he got heated in this kind +of composition, any sudden sound seemed to his tense nerves and boiling +brain about ten times as loud as it really was. + +Having relieved himself with a yell, he sat down with the mien of a +martyr expecting tortures; but he was most agreeably disappointed; the +little monster played an English melody, and played it in tune. This +done, he whistled a quick tune, and played a slow second to it in +perfect harmony; this done, he whistled the second part and played the +quick treble--a very simple feat, but still ingenious for a boy, and +new to his hearer. + +"Bravo! bravo!" cried Rolfe, with all his heart, + +Mr. Reginald emerged, radiant with vanity. "You are like me, Mr. +Writer," said he; "you don't like to be cooped up in-doors." + +"I wish I could play the fiddle like you, my fine fellow." + +"Ah, you can't do that all in a minute; see the time I have been at +it." + +"Ah, to be sure, I forgot your antiquity." + +"And it isn't the time only; it's giving your mind to it, old chap." + +"What, you don't give your mind to your books, then, as you do to your +fiddle, _young gentleman?"_ + +"Not such a flat. Why, lookee here, governor, if you go and give your +mind to a thing you don't like, it's always time wasted, because some +other chap, that does like it, will beat you, and what's the use +working for to be beat?" + +"'For' is redundant," objected Rolfe. + +"But if you stick hard to the things you like, you do 'em downright +well. But old people are such fools, they always drive you the wrong +way. They make the gals play music six hours a day, and you might as +well set the hen bullfinches to pipe. Look at the gals as come here, +how they rattle up and down the piano, and can't make it sing a morsel. +Why, they _couldn't_ rattle like that, if they'd music in their skins, +d--n 'em; and they drive me to those stupid books, because I'm all for +music and moonshine. Can you keep a secret?" + +"As the tomb." + +"Well, then, I can do plenty of things well, besides fiddling; I can +set a wire with any poacher in the parish. I have caught plenty of our +old man's hares in my time; and it takes a workman to set a wire as it +should be. Show me a wire, and I'll tell you whether it was Hudson, or +Whitbeck, or Squinting Jack, or who it was that set it. I know all +their work that walks by moonlight hereabouts." + +"This is criticism; a science; I prefer art; play me another tune, my +bold Bohemian." + +"Ah, I thought I should catch ye with my fiddle. You're not such a muff +as the others, old 'un, not by a long chalk. Hang me if I won't give ye +'Ireland's music,' and I've sworn never to waste that on a fool." + +He played the old Irish air so simply and tunably that Rolfe leaned +back in his chair, with half closed eyes, in soft voluptuous ecstasy. + +The youngster watched him with his coal-black eye. + +"I like you," said he, "better than I thought I should, a precious +sight." + +"Highly flattered." + +"Come with me, and hear my nurse sing it." + +"What, and leave my novel?" + +"Oh, bother your novel." + +"And so I will. That will be tit for tat; it has bothered me. Lead on, +Bohemian bold." + +The boy took him, over hedge and ditch, the short-cut to Meyrick's +farm; and caught Mrs. Meyrick, and said she must sing "Ireland's music" +to Rolfe the writer. + +Mrs. Meyrick apologized for her dress, and affected shyness about +singing: Mr. Reginald stared at first, then let her know that, if she +was going to be affected like the girls that came to the Hall, he +should hate her, as he did them, and this he confirmed with a naughty +word. + +Thus threatened, she came to book, and sang Ireland's melody in a low, +rich, sonorous voice; Reginald played a second; the harmony was so +perfect and strong that certain glass candelabra on the mantel-piece +rang loudly, and the drops vibrated. Then he made her sing the second, +and he took the treble with his violin; and he wound up by throwing in +a third part himself, a sort of countertenor, his own voice being much +higher than the woman's. + +The tears stood in Rolfe's eyes. "Well," said he, "you have got the +soul of music, you two. I could listen to you 'From morn till noon, +from noon till dewy eve.'" + +As they returned to Huntercombe, this mercurial youth went off at a +tangent, and Rolfe saw him no more. + +He wrote in peace, and walked about between the heats. + +Just before dinner-time the screams of women were heard hard by, and +the writer hurried to the place in time to see Mr. Basset hanging by +the shoulder from the branch of a tree, about twenty feet from the +ground. + +Rolfe hallooed, as he ran, to the women, to fetch blankets to catch +him, and got under the tree, determined to try and catch him in his +arms, if necessary; but he encouraged the boy to hold on. + +"All right, governor," said the boy, in a quavering voice. + +It was very near the kitchen; maids and men poured out with blankets; +eight people held one, under Rolfe's direction, and down came Mr. +Bassett in a semicircle, and bounded up again off the blanket, like an +India-rubber ball. + +His quick mind recovered courage the moment he touched wool. + +"Crikey! that's jolly," said he; "give me another toss or two." + +"Oh no! no!" said a good-natured maid. "Take an' put him to bed right +off, poor dear." + +"Hold your tongue, ye bitch," said young hopeful; "if ye don't toss me, +I'll turn ye all off, as soon as ever the old un kicks the bucket." + +Thus menaced, they thought it prudent to toss him; but, at the third +toss, he yelled out, "Oh! oh! oh! I'm all wet; it's blood! I'm dead!" + +Then they examined, and found his arm was severely lacerated by an old +nail that had been driven into the tree, and it had torn the flesh in +his fall: he was covered with blood, the sight of which quenched his +manly spirit, and he began to howl. + +"Old linen rag, warm water, and a bottle of champagne," shouted Rolfe: +the servants flew. + +Rolfe dressed and bandaged the wound for him, and then he felt faint: +the champagne soon set that right; and then he wanted to get drunk, +alleging, as a reason, that he had not been drunk for this two months. + +Sir Charles was told of the accident, and was distressed by it, and +also by the cause. + +"Rolfe," said he, sorrowfully, "there is a ring-dove's nest on that +tree: she and hers have built there in peace and safety for a hundred +years, and cooed about the place. My unhappy boy was climbing the tree +to take the young, after solemnly promising me he never would: that is +the bitter truth. What shall I do with the young barbarian?" + +He sighed, and Lady Bassett echoed the sigh. + +Said Rolfe, "The young barbarian, as you call him, has disarmed me: he +plays the fiddle like a civilized angel." + +"Oh, Mr. Rolfe!" + +"What, you his mother, and not found that out yet? Oh yes, he has a +heaven-born genius for music." + +Rolfe then related the musical feats of the urchin. + +Sir Charles begged to observe that this talent would go a very little +way toward fitting him to succeed his father and keep up the credit of +an ancient family. + +"Dear Charles, Mr. Rolfe knows that; but it is like him to make the +best of things, to encourage us. But what do you think of him, on the +whole, Mr. Rolfe? has Sir Charles more to hope or to fear?" + +"Give me another day or two to study him," said Rolfe. + +That night there was a loud alarm. Mr. Bassett was running about the +veranda in his night-dress. + +They caught him and got him to bed, and Rolfe said it was fever; and, +with the assistance of Sir Charles and a footman, laid him between two +towels steeped in tepid water, then drew blankets tight over him, and, +in short, packed him. + +"Ah!" said he, complacently; "I say, give me a drink of moonshine, old +chap." + +"I'll give you a bucketful," said Rolfe; then, with the servant's help, +took his little bed and put it close to the window; the moonlight +streamed in on the boy's face, his great black eyes glittered in it. He +was diabolically beautiful. "Kiss me, moonshine," said he; "I like to +wash in you." + +Next day he was, apparently, quite well, and certainly ripe for fresh +mischief. Rolfe studied him, and, the evening before he went, gave Sir +Charles and Lady Bassett his opinion, but not with his usual alacrity; +a weight seemed to hang on him, and, more than once, his voice +trembled. + +"I shall tell you," said he, "what I see--what I foresee--and then, +with great diffidence, what I advise. + +"I see--what naturalists call a reversion in race, a boy who resembles +in color and features neither of his parents, and, indeed, bears little +resemblance to any of the races that have inhabited England since +history was written. He suggests rather some Oriental type." + +Sir Charles turned round in his chair, with a sigh, and said, "We are +to have a romance, it seems." + +Lady Bassett stared with all her eyes, and began to change color. + +The theorist continued, with perfect composure, "I don't undertake to +account for it with any precision. How can I? Perhaps there is Moorish +blood in your family, and here it has revived; you look incredulous, +but there are plenty of examples, ay, and stronger than this: every +child that is born resembles some progenitor; how then do you account +for Julia Pastrana, a young lady who dined with me last week, and sang +me 'Ah perdona,' rather feebly, in the evening? Bust and figure like +any other lady, hand exquisite, arms neatly turned, but with long, +silky hair from the elbow to the wrist. Face, ugh! forehead made of +black leather, eyes all pupil, nose an excrescence, chin pure monkey, +face all covered with hair; briefly, a type extinct ten thousand years +before Adam, yet it could revive at this time of day. Compared with La +Pastrana, and many much weaker examples of antiquity revived, that I +have seen, your Mauritanian son is no great marvel, after all." + +"This is a _little_ too far-fetched," said Sir Charles, satirically; +"Bella's father was a very dark man, and it is a tradition in our +family that all the Bassetts were as black as ink till they married +with you Rolfes, in the year 1684." + +"Oho!" said Rolfe, "is it so? See how discussion brings out things." + +"And then," said Lady Bassett, "Charles dear, tell Mr. Rolfe what I +think." + +"Ay, do," said Rolfe; "that will be a new form of circumlocution." + +Sir Charles complied, with a smile. "Lady Bassett's theory is, that +children derive their nature quite as much from their wet-nurses as +from their parents, and she thinks the faults we deplore in Reginald +are to be traced to his nurse; by-the-by, she is a dark woman too." + +"Well," said Rolfe, "there's a good deal of truth in that, as far as +regards the disposition. But I never heard color so accounted for; yet +why not? It has been proved that the very bones of young animals can be +colored pink, by feeding them on milk so colored." + +"There!" said Lady Bassett. + +"But no nurse could give your son a color which is not her own. I have +seen the woman; she is only a dark Englishwoman. Her arms were +embrowned by exposure, but her forehead was not brown. Mr. Reginald is +quite another thing. The skin of his body, the white of his eye, the +pupil, all look like a reversion to some Oriental type; and, mark the +coincidence, he has mental peculiarities that point toward the East." + +Sir Charles lost patience. "On the contrary," said he, "he talks and +feels just like an English snob, and makes me miserable." + +"Oh, as to that, he has picked up vulgar phrases at that farm, and in +your stables; but he never picked up his musical genius in stables and +farms, far less his poetry." + +"What poetry?" + +"What poetry? Why, did not you hear him? Was it not poetical of a +wounded, fevered boy to beg to be laid by the window, and to say 'Let +me drink the moonshine?' Take down your Homer, and read a thousand +lines haphazard, and see whether you stumble over a thought more +poetical than that. But criticism does not exist: whatever the dead +said was good; whatever the living say is little; as if the dead were a +race apart, and had never been the living, and the living would never +be the dead." + +Heaven knows where he was running to now, but Sir Charles stopped him +by conceding that point. "Well you are right: poor child, it was +poetical," and the father's pride predominated, for a moment, over +every other sentiment. + +"Yes; but where did it come from? That looks to me a typical idea; I +mean an idea derived, not from his luxurious parents, dwellers in +curtained mansions, but from some out-door and remote ancestor; perhaps +from the Oriental tribe that first colonized Britain; they worshiped +the sun and the moon, no doubt; or perhaps, after all, it only came +from some wandering tribe that passed their lives between the two +lights of heaven, and never set foot in a human dwelling." + +"This," said Sir Charles, "is a flattering speculation, but so wild and +romantic that I fear it will lead us to no practical result. I thought +you undertook to advise me. What advice can you build on these cobwebs +of your busy brain?" + +"Excuse me, my practical friend," said Rolfe. "I opened my discourse in +three heads. What I see--what I foresee--and what, with diffidence, I +advise. Pray don't disturb my methods, or I am done for; never disturb +an artist's form. I have told you what I see. What I foresee is this: +you will have to cut off the entail with Reginald's consent, when he is +of age, and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cutting off +entails runs in families, like everything else; your grandfather did +it, and so will you. You should put by a few thousands every year, that +you may be able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental or +your Saxon son." + +"Never!" shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken voice, "He is my +first-born, and my idol; his coming into the world rescued me out of a +morbid condition: he healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and put +his younger brother in his place--never!" + +Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the subject, which, indeed, +could be carried no farther without serious offense. + +"And now for my advice. The question is, how to educate this strange +boy. One thing is clear; it is no use trying the humdrum plan any +longer; it has been tried, and failed. I should adapt his education to +his nature. Education is made as stiff and unyielding as a board; but +it need not be. I should abolish that spectacled tutor of yours at +once, and get a tutor, young, enterprising, manly, and supple, who +would obey orders; and the order should be to observe the boy's nature, +and teach accordingly. Why need men teach in a chair, and boys learn in +a chair? The Athenians studied not in chairs. The Peripatetics, as +their name imports, hunted knowledge afoot; those who sought truth in +the groves of Academus were not seated at that work. Then let the tutor +walk with him, and talk with him by sunlight and moonlight, relating +old history, and commenting on each new thing that is done, or word +spoken, and improve every occasion. Why, I myself would give a guinea a +day to walk with William White about the kindly aspects and wooded +slopes of Selborne, or with Karr about his garden. Cut Latin and Greek +clean out of the scheme. They are mere cancers to those who can never +excel in them. Teach him not dead languages, but living facts. Have him +in your justice-room for half an hour a day, and give him your own +comments on what he has heard there. Let his tutor take him to all +Quarter Sessions and Assizes, and stick to him like diaculum, +especially out-of-doors; order him never to be admitted to the +stable-yard; dismiss every biped there that lets him come. Don't let +him visit his nurse so often, and never without his tutor; it was she +who taught him to look forward to your decease; that is just like these +common women. Such a tutor as I have described will deserve 500 pounds +a year. Give it him; and dismiss him if he plays humdrum and doesn't +earn it. Dismiss half a dozen, if necessary, till you get a fellow with +a grain or two of genius for tuition. When the boy is seventeen, what +with his Oriental precocity, and this system of education, he will know +the world as well as a Saxon boy of twenty-one, and that is not saying +much. Then, if his nature is still as wild, get him a large tract in +Australia; cattle to breed, kangaroos to shoot, swift horses to thread +the bush and gallop mighty tracts; he will not shirk business, if it +avoids the repulsive form of sitting down in-doors, and offers itself +in combination with riding, hunting, galloping, cracking of rifles, and +of colonial whips as loud as rifles, and drinking sunshine and +moonshine in that mellow clime, beneath the Southern Cross and the +spangled firmament of stars unknown to us." + +His own eyes sparkled like hot coals at this Bohemian picture. + +Then he sighed and returned to civilization. "But," said he, "be ready +with eighty thousand pounds for him, that he may enjoy his own way and +join you in barring the entail. I forgot, I must say no more on that +subject; I see it is as offensive--as it is inevitable. Cassandra has +spoken wisely, and, I see, in vain. God bless you both--good-night." + +And he rolled out of the room with a certain clumsy importance. + +Sir Charles treated all this advice with a polite forbearance while he +was in the room, but on his departure delivered a sage reflection. + +"Strange," said he, "that a man so valuable in any great emergency +should be so extravagant and eccentric in the ordinary affairs of life. +I might as well drive to Bellevue House and consult the first gentleman +I met there." + +Lady Bassett did not reply immediately, and Sir Charles observed that +her face was very red and her hands trembled. + +"Why, Bella," said he, "has all that rhodomontade upset you?" + +Lady Bassett looked frightened at his noticing her agitation, and said +that Mr. Rolfe always overpowered her. "He is so large, and so +confident, and throws such new light on things." + +"New light! Wild eccentricity always does that; but it is the light of +Jack-o'-lantern. On a great question, so near my heart as this, give me +the steady light of common sense, not the wayward coruscations of a +fiery imagination. Bella dear, I shall send the boy to a good school, +and so cut off at one blow all the low associations that have caused +the mischief." + +"You know what is best, dear," said Lady Bassett; "you are wiser than +any of us." + +In the morning she got hold of Mr. Rolfe, and asked him if he could put +her in the way of getting more than three per cent for her money +_without risk._ + +"Only one," said.Rolfe. "London freeholds in rising situations let to +substantial tenants. I can get you five per cent that way, if you are +always ready to buy. The thing does not offer every day." + +"I have twenty thousand pounds to dispose of so," said Lady Bassett. + +"Very well," said Rolfe. "I'll look out for you, but Oldfield must +examine titles and do the actual business. The best of that investment +is, it is always improving; no ups and downs. Come," thought he, +"Cassandra has not spoken quite in vain." + +Sir Charles acted on his judgment, and in due course sent Mr. Bassett +to a school at some distance, kept by a clergyman, who had the credit +in that county of exercising sharp supervision and strict discipline. + +Sir Charles made no secret of the boy's eccentricities. Mr. Beecher +said he had one or two steady boys who assisted him in such cases. + +Sir Charles thought that a very good idea; it was like putting a wild +colt into the break with a steady horse. + +He missed the boy sadly at first, but comforted himself with the +conviction that he had parted with him for his good: that consoled him +somewhat. + + + +The younger children of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were educated +entirely by their mother, and taught as none but a loving lady can +teach. + +Compton, with whom we have to do, never knew the thorns with which the +path of letters is apt to be strewn. A mistress of the great art of +pleasing made knowledge from the first a primrose path to him. +Sparkling all over with intelligence, she impregnated her boy with it. +She made herself his favorite companion; she would not keep her +distance. She stole and coaxed knowledge and goodness into his heart +and mind with rare and loving cunning. + +She taught him English and French and Latin on the Hamiltonian plan, +and stored his young mind with history and biography, and read to him, +and conversed with him on everything as they read it. + +She taught him to speak the truth, and to be honorable and just. + +She taught him to be polite, and even formal, rather than free-and-easy +and rude. She taught him to be a man. He must not be what brave boys +called a molly-coddle: like most womanly women, she had a veneration +for man, and she gave him her own high idea of the manly character. + +Natural ability, and habitual contact with a mind so attractive and so +rich, gave this intelligent boy many good ideas beyond his age. + +When he was six years old, Lady Bassett made him pass his word of honor +that he would never go into the stable-yard; and even then he was far +enough advanced to keep his word religiously. + +In return for this she let him taste some sweets of liberty, and was +not always after him. She was profound enough to see that without +liberty a noble character cannot be formed; and she husbanded the curb. + + + +One day he represented to her that, in the meadow next their lawn, were +great stripes of yellow, which were possibly cowslips; of course they +might be only buttercups, but he hoped better things of them; he +further reported that there was an iron gate between him and this +paradise: he could get over it if not objectionable; but he thought it +safest to ask her what she thought of the matter; was that iron gate +intended to keep little boys from the cowslips, because, if so, it was +a misfortune to which he must resign himself. Still, it _was_ a +misfortune. All this, of course, in the simple language of boyhood. + +Then Lady Bassett smiled, and said, "Suppose I were to lend you a key +of that iron gate?" + +"Oh, mamma!" + +"I have a great mind to." + +"Then you will, you will." + +"Does that follow?" + +"Yes: whenever you say you think you'll do something kind, or you have +a great mind to do it, you know you always do it; and that is one thing +I do like you for, mamma--you are better than your word." + +"Better than my word? Where does the child learn these things?" + +"La, mamma, papa says that often." + +"Oh, that accounts for it. I like the phrase very much. I wish I could +think I deserved it. At any rate, I will be as good as my word for +once; you shall have a key of the gate." + +The boy clapped his hands with delight. The key was sent for, and, +meantime, she told him one reason why she had trusted him with it was +because he had been as good as his word about the stable. + +The key was brought, and she held it up half playfully, and said, +"There, sir, I deliver you this upon conditions: you must only use it +when the weather is quite dry, because the grass in the meadow is +longer, and will be wet. Do you promise?" + +"Yes, mamma." + +"And you must always lock the gate when you come back, and bring the +key to one place--let me see--the drawer in the hall table, the one +with marble on it; for you know a place for every thing is our rule. On +these conditions, I hereby deliver you this magic key, with the right +of egress and ingress." + +"Egress and ingress?" + +"Egress and ingress." + +"Is that foreign for cowslips, mamma--and oxlips?" + +"Ha! ha! the child's head is full of cowslips. There is the dictionary; +look out Egress, and afterward look out Ingress." + +When he had added these two words to his little vocabulary, his mother +asked him if he would be good enough to tell her why he did not care +much about all the beautiful flowers in the garden, and was so excited +about cowslips, which appeared to her a flower of no great beauty, and +the smell rather sickly, begging his pardon. + +This question posed him dreadfully: he looked at her in a sort of comic +distress, and then sat gravely down all in a heap, about a yard off, to +think. + +Finally he turned to her with a wry face, and said, "Why _do_ I, +mamma?" + +She smiled deliciously. "No, no, sir," said she. "How can I get inside +your little head and tell what is there? There must be a reason, I +suppose; and you know you and I are never satisfied till we get at the +reason of a thing. But there is no hurry, dear. I give you a week to +find it out. Now, run and open the gate--stay, are there any cows in +that field?" + +"Sometimes, mamma; but they have no horns, you know." + +"Upon your word?" + +"Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, myself." + +"Then run away, darling. But you must come and hunt me up, and tell me +how you enjoyed yourself, because that makes me happy, you know." + +This is mawkish; but it will serve to show on what terms the woman and +boy were. + +On second thoughts, I recall that apology, and defy creation. "THE +MAWKISH" is a branch of literature, a great and popular one, and I have +neglected it savagely. + +Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world was all before him +where to choose. + +He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so attracted him. Horror! +it was all buttercups and deil a cowslip. + +Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty of that +delightful flower scattered about the meadow in thinner patches; and he +gathered a double handful and dirtied his knees. + +Returning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was accosted by a +fluty voice. + +"Little boy!" + +He looked up, and saw a girl standing on the lower bar of a little +wooden gate painted white, looking over. + +_"Please_ bring me my ball," said she, pathetically. + +Compton looked about; and saw a soft ball of many colors lying near. + +He put down his cowslips gravely, and, brought her the ball. He gave it +her with a blush, because she was a strange girl; and she blushed a +little, because he did. + +He returned to his cowslips. + +"Little boy!" said the voice, "please bring me my ball again." + +He brought it her, with undisturbed politeness. She was giggling; he +laughed too, at that. + +"You did it on purpose that time," said he, solemnly. + +"La! you don't think I'd be so wicked," said she. + +Compton shook his head doubtfully, and, considering the interview at an +end turned to go, when instantly the ball knocked his hat off, and +nothing of the malefactress was visible but a black eye sparkling with +fun and mischief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of the +wall. + +This being a challenge, Compton said, "Now you come out after that, and +stand a shot, like a man." + +The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit; the only thing +she put out was her hand, and that she drew in, with a laugh, the +moment he threw at it. + +At this juncture a voice cried, "Ruperta! what are you doing there?" + +Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, implying that he +was to run away; and she herself walked demurely toward the person who +had called her. + +It was three days before Compton saw her again, and then she beckoned +him royally to her. + +"Little boy," said she, "talk to me." + +Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not reply. + +"Stand on this gate, like me, and talk," said she. + +He obeyed the first part of this mandate, and stood on the lower bar of +the little gate; so their two figures made a V, when they hung back, +and a tenpenny nail when they came forward and met, and this motion +they continued through the dialogue; and it was a pity the little +wretches could not keep still, and send for my friend the English +Titian: for, when their heads were in position, it was indeed a pretty +picture of childish and flower-like beauty and contrast; the boy fair, +blue-eyed, and with exquisite golden hair; the girl black-eyed, +black-browed, and with eyelashes of incredible length and beauty, and a +cheek brownish, but tinted, and so glowing with health and vigor that, +pricked with a needle, it seemed ready to squirt carnation right into +your eye. + +She dazzled Master Compton so that he could do nothing but look at her. + +"Well?" said she, smiling. + +"Well," replied he, pretending her "well" was not an interrogatory, but +a concise statement, and that he had discharged the whole duty of man +by according a prompt and cheerful consent. + +"You begin," said the lady. + +"No, you." + +"What for?" + +"Because--I think--you are the cleverest." + +"Good little boy! Well, then, I will. Who are you?" + +"I am Compton. Who are you, please?" + +"I am Ruperta." + +"I never heard that name before." + +"No more did I. I think they measured me for it: you live in the great +house there, don't you?" + +"Yes, Ruperta." + +"Well, then, I live in the little house. It is not very little either. +It's Highmore. I saw you in church one day; is that lady with the hair +your mamma?" + +"Yes, Ruperta." + +"She is beautiful." + +"Isn't she?" + +"But mine is so good." + +"Mine is very good, too, Ruperta. Wonderfully good." + +"I like you, Compton--a little." + +"I like you a good deal, Ruperta." + +"La, do you? I wonder at that: you are like a cherub, and I am such a +black thing." + +"But that is why I like you. Reginald is darker than you, and oh, so +beautiful!" + +"Hum!--he is a very bad boy." + +"No, he is not." + +"Don't tell stories, child; he is. I know all about him. A wicked, +vulgar, bad boy." + +"He is not," cried Compton, almost sniveling; but he altered his mind, +and fired up. "You are a naughty, story-telling girl, to say that." + +"Bless _me!"_ said Ruperta, coloring high, and tossing her head +haughtily. + +"I don't like you _now,_ Ruperta," said Compton, with all the decent +calmness of a settled conviction. + +"You don't!" screamed Ruperta. "Then go about your business directly, +and don't never come here again! Scolding _me!_ How dare you?--oh! oh! +oh!" and the little lady went off slowly, with her finger in her eye; +and Master Compton looked rather rueful, as we all do when this +charming sex has recourse to what may be called "liquid reasoning." I +have known the most solid reasons unable to resist it. + +However, "mens conscia recti," and, above all, the cowslips, enabled +Compton to resist, and he troubled his head no more about her that day. + +But he looked out for her the next day, and she did not come; and that +rather disappointed him. + +The next day was wet, and he did not go into the meadow, being on honor +not to do so. + +The fourth day was lovely, and he spent a long time in the meadow, in +hopes: he saw her for a moment at the gate; but she speedily retired. + +He was disappointed. + +However, he collected a good store of cowslips, and then came home. + +As he passed the door out popped Ruperta from some secret ambush, and +said, "Well?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +"WELL," replied Compton. + +"Are you better, dear?" + +"I'm very well, thank you," said the boy. + +"In your mind, I mean. You were cross last time, you know." + +Compton remembered his mother's lessons about manly behavior, and said, +in a jaunty way, "Well, I s'pose I was a little cross." + +Now the other cunning little thing had come to apologize, if there was +no other way to recover her admirer. But, on this confession, she said, +"Oh, if you are sorry for it, I forgive you. You may come and talk." + +Then Compton came and stood on the gate, and they held a long +conversation; and, having quarreled last time, parted now with rather +violent expressions of attachment. + +After that they made friends and laid their little hearts bare to each +other; and it soon appeared that Compton had learned more, but Ruperta +had thought more for herself, and was sorely puzzled about many things, +and of a vastly inquisitive mind. "Why," said she, "is good thing's so +hard, and had things so nice and easy? It would be much better if good +things were nice and bad ones nasty. That is the way I'd have it, if I +could make things." + +Mr. Compton shook his head and said many things were very hard to +understand, and even his mamma sometimes could not make out all the +things. + +"Nor mine neither; I puzzle her dreadful. I can't help that; things +shouldn't come and puzzle me, and then I shouldn't puzzle her. Shall I +tell you my puzzles? and perhaps you can answer them because you are a +boy. I can't think why it is wicked for me to dig in my little garden +on a Sunday, and it isn't wicked for Jessie to cook and Sarah to make +the beds. Can't think why mamma told papa not to be cross, and, when I +told her not to be cross, she put me in a dark cupboard all among the +dreadful mice, till I screamed so she took me out and kissed me and +gave me pie. Can't think why papa called Sally 'Something' for spilling +the ink over his papers, and when I called the gardener the very same +for robbing my flowers, all their hands and eyes went up, and they said +I was a shocking girl. Can't think why papa giggled the next moment, if +I was a shocking girl: it is all puzzle--puzzle--puzzle." + + + +One day she said, "Can you tell me where all the bad people are buried? +for that puzzles me dreadful." + +Compton was posed at first, but said at last he thought they were +buried in the churchyard, along with the good ones. + +"Oh, indeed!" said she, with an air of pity. "Pray, have you ever been +in the churchyard, and read the writings on the stones?" + +"No." + +"Then I have. I have read every single word; and there are none but +good people buried _there,_ not one." She added, rather pathetically, +"You should not answer me without thinking, as if things were easy, +instead of so hard. Well, one comfort, there are not many wicked people +hereabouts; they live in towns; so I suppose they are buried in the +garden, poor things, or put in the water with a stone." + +Compton had no more plausible theory ready, and declined to commit +himself to Ruperta's; so that topic fell to the ground. + +One day he found her perched as usual, but with her bright little face +overclouded. + +By this time the intelligent boy was fond enough of her to notice her +face. "What's the matter, Perta?" + +"Ruperta. The matter? Puzzled again! It is very serious this time." + +"Tell me, Ruperta." + +"No, dear." + +"Please." + +The young lady fixed her eyes on him, and said, with a pretty +solemnity, "Let us play at catechism." + +"I don't know that game." + +"The governess asks questions, and the good little boy answers. That's +catechism. I'm the governess." + +"Then I'm the good little boy." + +"Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face." + +"There--you're very pretty, Ruperta." + +"Don't be giddy; I'm hideous; so behave, and answer all my questions. +Oh, I'm so unhappy. Answer me, is young people, or old people, +goodest?" + +"You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. Why, old people, to be +sure--much." + +"So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. Then your papa and mine +are much betterer--will that do?--than we are?" + +"Of course they are." + +"There he goes! Such a child for answering slap bang I never." + +"I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, Ruperta." + +"That's a story." + +"Well, then, I'm as old; for Mary says we were born the same day--the +same hour--the same minute." + +"La! we are twins." + +She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found reason to doubt +her hasty conclusion. "No such thing," said she: "they tell me the +bells were ringing for you being found, and then I was found--to +catechism you." + +"There! then you see I _am_ older than you, Ruperta." + +"Yes, dear," said Ruperta, very gravely; "I'm younger in my body, but +older in my head." + +This matter being settled so that neither party could complain, since +antiquity was evenly distributed, the catechizing recommenced. + +"Do you believe in 'Let dogs delight?'" + +"I don't know." + +"What!" screamed Ruperta. "Oh, you wicked boy! Why, it comes next after +the Bible." + +"Then I do believe it," said Compton, who, to tell the truth, had been +merely puzzled by the verb, and was not afflicted with any doubt that +the composition referred to was a divine oracle. + +"Good boy!" said Ruperta, patronizingly. "Well, then, this is what +puzzles me; your papa and mine don't believe in 'Dogs delight.' They +have been quarreling this twelve years and more, and mean to go on, in +spite of mamma. She _is_ good. Didn't you know that your papa and mine +are great enemies?" + +"No, Ruperta. Oh, what a pity!" + +"Don't, Compton, don't: there, you have made me cry." + +He set himself to console her. + +She consented to be consoled. + +But she said, with a sigh, "What becomes of old people being better +than young ones, now? Are you and I bears and lions? Do we scratch out +each other's eyes? It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead! +Nurse says, when I'm dead I shall understand it all. But I don't know; +I saw a dead cat once, and she didn't seem to know as much as before; +puzzle, puzzle. Compton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven?" + +"No." + +"Then the sooner we both go there, the better." + +"Yes, but not just now." + +"Why not?" + +"Because of the cowslips." + +"Here's a boy! What, would you rather be among the cowslips than the +angels? and think of the diamonds and pearls that heaven is paved +with." + +"But _you_ mightn't be there." + +"What! Am I a wicked girl, then--wickeder than you, that is a boy?" + +"Oh no, no, no; but see how big it is up there;" they cast their eyes +up, and, taking the blue vault for creation, were impressed with its +immensity. "I know where to find you here, but up there you might be +ever so far off me." + +"La! so I might. Well, then, we had better keep quiet. I suppose we +shall get wiser as we get older. But Compton, I'm so sorry your papa +and mine are bears and lions. Why doesn't the clergyman scold them?" + +"Nobody dare scold my papa," said Compton, proudly. Then, after +reflection, "Perhaps, when we are older, we may persuade them to make +friends. I think it is very stupid to quarrel; don't you?" + +"As stupid as an owl." + +"You and I had a quarrel once, Ruperta." + +"Yes, you misbehaved." + +"No, no; you were cross." + +"Story! Well, never mind: we _did_ quarrel. And you were miserable +directly." + +"Not so very," said Compton, tossing his head. + +"I _was,_ then," said Ruperta, with unguarded candor. + +"So was I." + +"Good boy! Kiss me, dear." + +"There--and there--and there--and--" + +"That will do. I want to talk, Compton." + +"Yes, dear." + +"I'm not very sure, but I rather think I'm in love with you--a little, +little bit, you know." + +"And I'm sure I'm in love with you, Ruperta." + +"Over head an' ears?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate! If it wasn't for +that, I could run in the meadow with you; and marry you perhaps, and so +gather cowslips together for ever and ever." + +"Let us open it." + +"You can't." + +"Let us try." + +"I have. It won't be opened." + +"Let _me_ try. Some gates want to be lifted up a little, and then they +will open. There, I told you so." + +The gate came open. + +Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then drew back. + +"I'm afraid, Compton," said she, "papa would be angry." + +She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young gentleman, having a +strong sense of filial duty, omitted so to do. + +When she saw he would not persuade her, she dispensed. "Come along," +said she, "if it is only for five minutes." + +She took his hand, and away they scampered. He showed her the cowslips, +the violets, and all the treasures of the meadow; but it was all hurry, +and skurry, and excitement; no time to look at anything above half a +minute, for fear of being found out: and so, at last, back to the gate, +beaming with stolen pleasure, glowing and sparkling with heat and +excitement. + +The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and then, after saying she +must go for about an hour, marched demurely back to the house. + +After one or two of these hasty trips, impunity gave her a sense of +security, and, the weather getting warm, she used to sit in the meadow +with her beau and weave wreaths of cowslips, and place them in her +black hair, and for Comp-ton she made coronets of bluebells, and +adorned his golden head. + +And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle to him, and lean +her head, with all the feminine grace of a mature woman, on his +shoulder. + +Said she, "A boy's shoulder does very nice for a girl to put her nose +on." + +One day the aspiring girl asked him what was that forest. + +"That is Bassett's wood." + +"I will go there with you some day, when papa is out." + +"I'm afraid that is too far for you," said Compton. + +"Nothing is too far for me," replied the ardent girl. "Why, how far is +it?" + +"More than half a mile." + +"Is it very big?" + +"Immense." + +"Belong to the queen?" + +"No, to papa." + +"Oh!" + +And here my reader may well ask what was Lady Bassett about, or did +Compton, with all his excellent teaching, conceal all this from his +mother and his friend. + +On the contrary, he went open-mouthed to her and told her he had seen +such a pretty little girl, and gave her a brief account of their +conversation. + +Lady Bassett was startled at first, and greatly perplexed. She told him +he must on no account go to her; if he spoke to her, it must be on +papa's ground. She even made him pledge his honor to that. + +More than that she did not like to say. She thought it unnecessary and +undesirable to transmit to another generation the unhappy feud by which +she had suffered so much, and was even then suffering. Moreover, she +was as much afraid of Richard Bassett as ever. If he chose to tell his +girl not to speak to Compton, he might. She was resolved not to go out +of her way to affront him, through his daughter. Besides, that might +wound Mrs. Bassett, if it got round to her ears; and, although she had +never spoken to Mrs. Bassett, yet their eyes had met in church, and +always with a pacific expression. Indeed, Lady Bassett felt sure she +had read in that meek woman's face a regret that they were not friends, +and could not be friends, because of their husbands. Lady Bassett, +then, for these reasons, would not forbid Compton to be kind to Ruperta +in moderation. + +Whether she would have remained as neutral had she known how far these +young things were going, is quite another matter; but Compton's +narratives to her were, naturally enough, very tame compared with the +reality, and she never dreamed that two seven-year-olds could form an +attachment so warm, as these little plagues were doing. + +And, to conclude, about the time when Mr. Compton first opened the gate +for his inamorata, Lady Bassett's mind was diverted, in some degree, +even from her beloved boy Compton, by a new trouble, and a host of +passions it excited in her own heart. + +A thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles Bassett, in the form of a letter +from Reginald's tutor, informing him that Reginald and another lad had +been caught wiring hares in a wood at some distance and were now in +custody. + +Sir Charles mounted his horse and rode to the place, leaving Lady +Bassett a prey to great anxiety and bitter remorse. + +Sir Charles came back in two days, with the galling news that his son +and heir was in prison for a month, all his exertions having only +prevailed to get the case summarily dealt with. + +Reginald's companion, a young gypsy, aged seventeen, had got three +months, it being assumed that he was the tempter: the reverse was the +case, though. + +When Sir Charles told Lady Bassett all this, with a face of agony, and +a broken voice, her heart almost burst: she threw every other +consideration to the winds. + +"Charles," she cried, "I can't bear it: I can't see your heart wrung +any more, and your affections blighted. Tear that young viper out of +your breast: don't go on wasting your heart's blood on a stranger; HE +IS NOT YOUR SON." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +AT this monstrous declaration, from the very lips of the man's wife, +there was a dead silence, Sir Charles being struck dumb, and Lady +Bassett herself terrified at the sound of the words she had uttered. + +After a terrible pause, Sir Charles fixed his eyes on her, with an +awful look, and said, very slowly, "Will--you--have--the--goodness-- +to--say that again? but first think what you are saying." + +This made Lady Bassett shake in every limb; indeed the very flesh of +her body quivered. Yet she persisted, but in a tone that of itself +showed how fast her courage was oozing. She faltered out, almost +inaudibly, "I say you must waste no more love on him--he is not your +son." + +Sir Charles looked at her to see if she was in her senses: it was not +the first time he had suspected her of being deranged on this one +subject. But no: she was pale as death, she was cringing, wincing, +quivering, and her eyes roving to and fro; a picture not of frenzy, but +of guilt unhardened. + +He began to tremble in his turn, and was so horror-stricken and +agitated that he could hardly speak. "Am I dreaming?" he gasped. + +Lady Bassett saw the storm she had raised, and would have given the +world to recall her words. + +"Whose is he, then?" asked Sir Charles, in a voice scarcely human. + +"I don't know," said Lady Bassett doggedly. + +"Then how dare you say that he isn't mine?" + +"Kill me, Charles," cried she, passionately; "but don't look at me so +and speak to me so. Why I say he is not yours, is he like you either in +face or mind?" + +"And he is like--whom?" + +Lady Bassett had lost all her courage by this time: she whimpered out, +"Like nobody except the gypsies." + +"Bella, this is a subject which will part you and me for life unless we +can agree upon it--" + +No reply, in words, from Lady Bassett. + +"So please let us understand each other. Your son is not my son. Is +that what you look me in the face and tell me?" + +"Charles, I never said _that._ How could he be my son, and not be +yours?" + +And she raised her eyes, and looked him full in the face: nor fear nor +cringing now: the woman was majestic. + +Sir Charles was a little alarmed in his turn; for his wife's soft eyes +flamed battle for the first time in her life. + +"Now you talk sense," said he; "if he is yours, he is mine; and, as he +is certainly yours, this is a very foolish conversation, which must not +be renewed, otherwise--" + +"I shall be insulted by my own husband?" + +"I think it very probable. And, as I do not choose you to be insulted, +nor to think yourself insulted, I forbid you ever to recur to this +subject." + +"I will obey, Charles; but let me say one word first. When I was alone +in London, and hardly sensible, might not this child have been imposed +upon me and you? I'm sure he was." + +"By whom?" + +"How can I tell? I was alone--that woman in the house had a bad +face--the gypsies do these things, I've heard." + +"The gypsies! And why not the fairies?" said Sir Charles, +contemptuously. "Is that all you have to suggest--before we close the +subject forever?" + +"Yes," said Lady Bassett sorrowfully. "I see you take me for a +mad-woman; but time will show. Oh that I could persuade you to detach +your affections from that boy--he will break your heart else--and rest +them on the children that resemble us in mind and features." + +"These partialities are allowed to mothers; but a father must be just. +Reginald is my first-born; he came to me from Heaven at a time when I +was under a bitter trial, and from the day he was born till this day I +have been a happy man. It is not often a father owes so much to a son +as I do to my darling boy. He is dear to my heart in spite of his +faults; and now I pity him, as well as love him, since it seems he has +only one parent, poor little fellow!" + +Lady Bassett opened her mouth to reply, but could not. She raised her +hands in mute despair, then quietly covered her face with them, and +soon the tears trickled through her white fingers. + +Sir Charles looked at her, and was touched at her silent grief. + +"My darling wife," said he, "I think this is the only thing you and I +cannot agree upon. Why not be wise as well as loving, and avoid it." + +"I will never seek it again," sobbed Lady Bassett. "But oh," she cried, +with sudden wildness, "something tells me it will meet me, and follow +me, and rob me of my husband. Well, when that day comes, I shall know +how to die." + +And with this she burst away from him, like some creature who has been +stung past endurance. + +Sir Charles often meditated on this strange scene: turn it how he could +he came back to the same conclusion, that she must have an +hallucination on this subject. He said to himself, "If Bella really +believed the boy was a changeling, she would act upon her conviction, +she would urge me to take some steps to recover our true child, whom +the gypsies or the fairies have taken, and given us poor dear Reginald +instead." + +But still the conversation, and her strange looks of terror, lay +dormant in his mind: both were too remarkable to be ever forgotten. +Such things lie like certain seeds, awaiting only fresh accidents to +spring into life. + +The month rolled away, and the day came for Reginald's liberation. A +dogcart was sent for him, and the heir of the Bassetts emerged from a +county jail, and uttered a whoop of delight; he insisted on driving, +and went home at a rattling pace. + +He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Huntercombe Hall; and +then it suddenly occurred to his mercurial mind that he should probably +not be received with an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in that +ancient house whose representative he was. + +When he did get there he found the whole family in such a state of +commotion that his return was hardly noticed at all. + + + +Master Compton's dinner hour was two P.M., and yet, at three o'clock of +this day, he did not come in. + +This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her some little anxiety; +for she suspected he might possibly be in the company of Ruperta +Bassett; and, although she did not herself much object to that, she +objected very much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So she went +herself to the end of the lawn, and out into the meadow, that a servant +might not find the young people together, if her suspicion was correct. + +She went into the meadow and called "Compton! Compton!" as loud as she +could, but there was no reply. + +Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent servants about in +all directions. + +But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The thing looked +serious. + +She sent out grooms well mounted to scour the country. One of these +fell in with Sir Charles, who thereupon came home and found his wife in +a pitiable state. She was sitting in an armchair, trembling and crying +hysterically. + +She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a vise. + +"It is Richard Bassett!" she cried. "He knows how to wound and kill me. +He has stolen our child." + +Sir Charles hurried out, and, soon after that, Reginald arrived, and +stood awe-struck at her deplorable condition. + +Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed Reginald, told him in +three words his brother was missing, and then informed Lady Bassett +that he had learned something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett's +little girl had also disappeared, and his people were out looking after +her. + +"Ah, they are together," cried Lady Bassett. + +"Together? a son of mine consorting with that viper's brood!" + +"What does that poor child know? Oh, find him for me, if you love that +dear child's mother!'" + +Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the door by a servant, +who blurted out, "The men have dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, and +they want to know if they shall drag the brook." + +"Hold your tongue, idiot!" cried Sir Charles, and thrust him out; but +the wiseacre had not spoken in vain. Lady Bassett moaned, and went into +worse hysterics, with nobody near her but Reginald. + +That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, and not being +hardened at all points, uttered a sympathetic howl, and flung his arms +round her neck. "Oh! oh! oh! Don't cry, mamma." + +Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel him. + +"I'll find him for you," said the boy, "if you will leave off crying." + +She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as before. + +"Mamma," said he, getting impatient, "do listen to me. I'll find him +easy enough, if you will only listen." + +"You! you!" and she stared wildly at him. + +"Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. I'm a poacher. Just +you put me on to his track. I'll soon run into him, if he is above +ground." + +"A child like you!" cried Lady Bassett; "how can you do that?" and she +began to wring her hands again. + +"I'll show you," said the boy, getting very impatient, "if you will +just leave off crying like a great baby, and come to any place you like +where he has been to-day and left a mark--" + +"Ah!" cried Lady Bassett. + +"I'm a poacher," repeated Reginald, quite proudly; "you forget that." + +"Come with me," cried Lady Bassett, starting up. She whipped on her +bonnet, and ran with him down the lawn. + +"There, Reginald," said she, panting, "I think my darling was here this +afternoon; yes, yes, he must; for he had a key of the door, and it is +open." + +"All right," said Reginald; "come into the field." + +He ran about like a dog hunting, and soon found marks among the +cowslips. + +"Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day," said he; "now, +mamma, there's only two ways put of this field--let us go straight to +that gate; that is the likeliest." + +Near the gate was some clay, and Reginald showed her several prints of +small feet. + +"Look," said he, "here's the track of two--one's a gal; how I know, +here's a sole to this shoe no wider nor a knife. Come on." + +In the next field he was baffled for a long time; but at last he found +a place in a dead hedge where they had gone through. + +"See," said he, "these twigs are fresh broken, and here's a bit of the +gal's frock. Oh! won't she catch it?": + +"Oh, you brave, clever boy!" cried Lady Bassett. + +"Come on!" shouted the urchin. + +He hunted like a beagle, and saw like a bird, with his savage, +glittering eye. He was on fire with the ardor of the chase; and, not to +dwell too long on what has been so often and so well written by others, +in about an hour and a half he brought the anxious, palpitating, but +now hopeful mother, to the neighborhood of Bassett's wood. Here he +trusted to his own instinct. "They have gone into the wood," said he, +"and I don't blame 'em. I found my way here long before his age. I say, +don't you tell; I've snared plenty of the governor's hares in that +wood." + +He got to the edge of the wood and ran down the side. At last he found +the marks of small feet on a low bank, and, darting over it, discovered +the fainter traces on some decaying leaves inside the wood. + +"There," said he; "now it is just as if you had got them in your +pocket, for they'll never find their way out of this wood. Bless your +heart, why _I_ used to get lost in it at first." + +"Lost in the wood!" cried Lady Bassett; "but he will die of fear, or be +eaten by wild beasts; and it is getting so dark." + +"What about that? Night or day is all one to me. What will you give me +if I find him before midnight?" + +"Anything I've got in the world." + +"Give me a sovereign?" + +"A thousand!" + +"Give me a kiss?" + +"A hundred!" + +"Then I'll tell you what I'll do--I don't mind a little trouble, to +stop your crying, mamma, because you are the right sort. I'll get the +village out, and we will tread the wood with torches, an' all for them +as can't see by night; I can see all one; and you shall have your kid +home to supper. You see, there's a heavy dew, and he is not like me, +that would rather sleep in this wood than the best bed in London city; +a night in a wood would about settle his hash. So here goes. I can run +a mile in six minutes and a half." + +With these words, the strange boy was off like an arrow from a bow. + +Lady Bassett, exhausted by anxiety and excitement, was glad to sit +down; her trembling heart would not let her leave the place that she +now began to hope contained her child. She sat down and waited +patiently. + +The sun set, the moon rose, the stars glittered; the infinite leaves +stood out dark and solid, as if cut out of black marble; all was dismal +silence and dread suspense to the solitary watcher. + +Yet the lady of Huntercombe Hall sat on, sick at heart, but patient, +beneath that solemn sky. + +She shuddered a little as the cold dews gathered on her, for she was a +woman nursed in luxury's lap; but she never moved. + +The silence was dismal. Had that wild boy forgotten his promise, or +were there no parents in the village, that their feet lagged so? + +It was nearly ten o'clock, when her keen ears, strained to the utmost, +discovered a faint buzzing of voices; but where she could not tell. + +The sounds increased and increased, and then there was a temporary +silence; and after that a faint hallooing in the wood to her right. The +wood was five hundred acres, and the bulk of it lay in front and to her +left. + +The hallooing got louder and louder; the whole wood seemed to echo; her +heart beat high; lights glimmered nearer and nearer, hares and rabbits +pattered by and startled her, and pheasants thundered off their roosts +with an incredible noise, owls flitted, and bats innumerable, disturbed +and terrified by the glaring lights and loud resounding halloos. + +Nearer, nearer came the sounds, till at last a line of men and boys, +full fifty carrying torches and lanterns, came up, and lighted up the +dew-spangled leaves, and made the mother's heart leap with joyful hope +at succor so powerful. + +Oh, she could have kissed the stout village blacksmith, whose deep +sonorous lungs rang close to her. Never had any man's voice sounded to +her so like a god's as this stout blacksmith's "hilloop! hilloop!" +close and loud in her ear, and those at the end of the line hallooed +"hillo-op; hillo-op!" like an echo; and so they passed on, through bush +and brier, till their voices died away in the distance. + +A boy detached himself from the line, and ran to Lady Bassett with a +traveling rug. It was Reginald. + +"You put on this," said he. He shook it, and, standing on tiptoe, put +it over her shoulders. + +"Thank you, dear," said she. "Where is papa?" + +"Oh, he is in the line, and the Highmore swell and all." + +"Mr. Richard Bassett?" + +"Air, his kid is out on the loose, as well as ours." + +"Oh, Reginald, if they should quarrel!" + +"Why, our governor can lick him, can't he?" + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +"OH, don't talk so. I wouldn't for all the world they should quarrel." + +"Well, we have got enough fellows to part them if they do." + +"Dear Reginald, you have been so good to me, and you are so clever; +speak to some of the men, and let there be no more quarreling between +papa and that man." + +"All right," said the boy. + +"On second thoughts take me to papa; I'll be by his side, and then they +cannot." + +"You want to walk through the wood? that is a good joke. Why, it is +like walking through a river, and the young wood slapping your eyes, +for you can't see every twig by this light, and the leaves sponging +your face and shoulders: and the briers would soon strip your gown into +ribbons, and make your little ankles bleed. No, you are a lady; you +stay where you are, and let us men work it. We shan't find him yet +awhile. I must get near the governor. When we find my lord, I'll give a +whistle you could hear a mile off." + +"Oh, Reginald, are you sure he is in the wood?" + +"I'd bet my head to a chany orange. You might as well ask me, when I +track a badger to his hole, and no signs of his going out again, +whether old long-claws is there. I wish I was as sure of never going +back to school as I am of finding that little lot. The only thing I +don't like is, the young muff's not giving us a halloo back. But, any +way, I'll find 'em, _alive or dead."_ + +And, with this pleasing assurance, the little imp scudded off, leaving +the mother glued to the spot with terror. + +For full an hour more the torches gleamed, though fainter and fainter; +and so full was the wood of echoes, that the voices, though distant, +seemed to halloo all round the agonized mother. + +But presently there was a continuous yell, quite different from the +isolated shouts, a distant but unmistakable howl of victory that made a +bolt of ice shoot down her back, and then her heart to glow like fire. + +It was followed by a keen whistle. + +She fell on her knees and thanked God for her boy. + + + +In the middle of this wood was a shallow excavation, an old chalk-pit, +unused for many years. It was never deep, and had been half filled up +with dead leaves; these, once blown into the hollow, or dropped from +the trees, had accumulated. + +The very middle of the line struck on this place, and Moss, the old +keeper, who was near the center, had no sooner cast his eyes into it +than he halted, and uttered a stentorian halloo well known to +sportsmen--"SEE HO!" + + + +A dead halt, a low murmur, and in a very few seconds the line was a +circle, and all the torches that had not expired held high in a flaming +ring over the prettiest little sight that wood had ever presented. + +The old keeper had not given tongue on conjecture, like some youthful +hound. In a little hollow of leaves, which the boy had scraped out, lay +Master Compton and Miss Ruperta, on their little backs, each with an +arm round the other's neck, enjoying the sweet sound sleep of infancy, +which neither the horror of their situation--babes in the wood--nor the +shouts of fifty people had in the smallest degree disturbed; to be +sure, they had undergone great fatigue. + +Young master wore a coronet of bluebells on his golden bead, young miss +a wreath of cowslips on her ebon locks. The pair were flowers, cherubs, +children--everything that stands for young, tender, and lovely. + +The honest villagers gaped, and roared in chorus, and held high their +torches, and gazed with reverential delight. Not for them was it to +finger the little gentlefolks, but only to devour them with admiring +eyes. + +Indeed, the picture was carried home to many a humble hearth, and is +spoken of to this day in Huntercombe village. + +But the pale and anxious fathers were in no state to see pictures--they +only saw their children Sir Charles and Richard Bassett came round with +the general rush, saw, and dashed into the pit. + +Strange to say, neither knew the other was there. Each seized his +child, and tore it away from the contact of the other child, as if from +a viper; in which natural but harsh act they saw each other for the +first time, and their eyes gleamed in a moment with hate and defiance +over their loving children. + +Here was a picture of a different kind, and if the melancholy Jaques, +or any other gentleman with a foible for thinking in a wood; had been +there, methinks he had moralized very prettily on the hideousness of +hate and the beauty of the sentiment it had interrupted so fiercely. +But it escaped this sort of comment for about eight years. Well, all +this woke the bairns; the lights dazzled them, the people scared them. +Each hid a little face on the paternal shoulder. + +The fathers, like wild beasts, each carrying off a lamb, withdrew, +glaring at each other; but the very next moment the stronger and better +sentiment prevailed, and they kissed and blessed their restored +treasures, and forgot their enemies for a time. + +Sir Charles's party followed him, and supped at Huntercombe, every man +Jack of them. + +Reginald, who had delivered a terrific cat-call, now ran off to Lady +Bassett. There she was, still on her knees. + +"Found! found!" he shouted. + +She clasped him in her arms and wept for joy. + +"My eyes!" said he, "what a one you are to cry! You come home; you'll +catch your death o' cold." + +"No, no; take me to my child at once." + +"Can't be done; the governor has carried him off through the wood; and +I ain't a going to let you travel the wood. You come with me; we'll go +the short cut, and be home as soon as them." + +She complied, though trembling all over. + +On the way he told her where the children had been discovered, and in +what attitude. + +"Little darlings!" said she. "But he has frightened his poor mother, +and nearly broken her heart. Oh!" + +"If you cry any more, mamma--Shut up, I tell you!" + +_"Must_ I? Oh!" + +"Yes, or you'll catch pepper." + +Then he pulled her along, gabbling all the time. "Those two swells +didn't quarrel after all, you see." + +"Thank Heaven!" + +"But they looked at each other like hobelixes, and pulled the kids away +like pison. Ha! ha! I say, the young 'uns ain't of the same mind as the +old 'uns. I say, though, our Compton is not a bad sort; I'm blowed if +he hadn't taken off his tippet to put round his gal. I say, don't you +think that little chap has begun rather early? Why, _I_ didn't trouble +my head about the gals till I was eleven years old." + +Lady Bassett was too much agitated to discuss these delicate little +questions just then. + +She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. "Oh, you good, brave, +clever boy!" said she. + +Then she stopped a moment to kiss him heartily. "I shall never forget +this night, dear. I shall always make excuses for you. Oh, shall we +never get home?" + +"We shall be home as soon as they will," said Reginald. "Come on." + +He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has probably had enough +of his millclack. + +Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a large fire in +Compton's bedroom, when Sir Charles came in, bringing the boy. + +The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her knees, with her arms +out, as only a mother can stretch them to her child. + +There was not a word of scolding that night. He had made her suffer; +but what of that? She had no egotism; she was a true mother. Her boy +had been lost, and was found; and she was the happiest soul in +creation. + +But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both intensely +mortified, and took measures to keep those little lovers apart in +future. Richard Bassett locked up his gate: Sir Charles padlocked his; +and they both told their wives they really must be more vigilant. The +poor children, being in disgrace, did not venture to remonstrate! But +they used often to think of each other, and took a liking to the +British Sunday; for then they saw each other in church. + +By-and-by even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was sent to school, and +passed her holidays at the sea-side. + + + +To return to Reginald, he was compelled to change his clothes that +evening, but was allowed to sit up, and, when the heads of the house +were a little calmer, became the hero of the night. + +Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, "Reginald, you +have begun a new life to-day, and begun it well. Let us forget the +past, and start fresh to-day, with the love and gratitude of both your +parents." + +The boy hung his head and said nothing in reply. + +Lady Bassett came to his assistance. "He will; he will. Don't say a +word about the past. He is a good, brave, beautiful boy, and I adore +him." + +"And I like you, mamma," said Reginald graciously. + +From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bassett; and Heaven knows, +she had no sinecure; poor Reginald's virtues were too eccentric to +balance his faults for long together. His parents could not have a +child lost in a wood every day; but good taste and propriety can be +offended every hour when one is so young, active, and savage as Master +Reginald. + +He was up at five, and doing wrong all day. + +Hours in the stables, learning to talk horsey, and smell dunghilly. + +Hours in the village, gossiping and romping. + +In good company, an owl. + +In bad, or low company, a cricket, a nightingale, a magpie. + +He was seen at a neighboring fair, playing the fiddle in a booth to +dancing yokels, and receiving their pence. + +He was caught by Moss wiring hairs in Bassett's wood, within twenty +yards of the place where he had found the babes in the wood so nobly. + +Remonstrated with tenderly and solemnly, he informed Sir Charles that +poaching was a thing he could not live without, and he modestly asked +to have Bassett's wood given him to poach in, offering, as a +consideration, to keep all other poachers out: as a greater inducement, +he represented that he should not require a house, but only a coarse +sheet to stretch across an old saw-pit, and a pair of blankets for +winter use--one under, one over. + +Sir Charles was often sad, sometimes indignant. + +Lady Bassett excused each enormity with pathetic ingenuity; excused, +but suffered, and indeed pined visibly, for all this time he was +tormenting her as few women in her position have been tormented. Her +life was a struggle of contesting emotions; she was wounded, harassed, +perplexed, and so miserable, she would have welcomed death, that her +husband might read that Manuscript and cease to suffer, and she escape +the shame of confessing, and of living after it. + +In one word, she was expiating. + +Neither the excuses she made nor the misery she suffered escaped Sir +Charles. + +He said to her at last, "My own Bella, this unhappy boy is killing you. +Dear as he is to me, you are dearer. I must send him away again." + +"He saved our darling," said she, faintly, but she could say no more. +He had exhausted excuse. + +Sir Charles made inquiries everywhere, and at last his attention was +drawn to the following advertisement in the _Times:_ + + + +UNMANAGEABLE, Backward, or other BOYS, carefully TRAINED, and EDUCATED, +by a married rector. Home comforts. Moderate terms. Address Dr. +Beecher, Fennymore, Cambridgeshire. + + + +He wrote to this gentleman, and the correspondence was encouraging. +"These scapegraces," said the artist in tuition, "are like crab-trees; +abominable till you graft them, and then they bear the best fruit." + +While the letters were passing, came a climax. Reckless Reginald could +keep no bounds intact: his inward definition of a boundary was "a thing +you should go a good way out of your way rather than not overleap." + +Accordingly, he was often on Highmore farm at night, and even in +Highmore garden; the boundary wall tempted him so. + +One light but windy night, when everybody that could put his head under +cover, and keep it there, did, reckless Reginald was out enjoying the +fresh breezes; he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, to +see what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he speedily discovered a +bright light in Highmore dining-room. + +He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly over the grass and +peered in at the window. + +He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it; on that table, and gleaming +in that light, were several silver vessels of rare size and +workmanship, and Mr. Bassett, with his coat off, and a green baize +apron on, was cleaning one of these with brush and leather. He had +already cleaned the others, for they glittered prodigiously. + +Reginald's black eye gloated and glittered at this unexpected display +of wealth in so dazzling a form. + +But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When Mr. Bassett had +done with that piece of plate he went to the paneled wall, and opened a +door so nicely adapted to the panels, that a stranger would hardly have +discovered it. Yet it was an enormous door, and, being opened, revealed +a still larger closet, lined with green velvet and fitted with shelves +from floor to ceiling. + +Here shone, in all their glory, the old plate of two good families: +that is to say, half the old plate of the Bassetts, and all the old +plate of the Goodwyns, from whom came Highmore to Richard Bassett +through his mother Ruperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; so +named after her aunt; so named after her godmother; so named after her +father, Prince Rupert, cavalier, chemist, glass-blower, etc., etc. + +The wall seemed ablaze with suns and moons, for many of the chased +goblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt: none of your filmy +electro-plate, but gold laid on thick, by the old mercurial process, in +days when they that wrought in precious metals were honest--for want of +knowing how to cheat. + +Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of gold suns and +silver moons, and trembling with Bohemian excitement, reckless Reginald +heard not a stealthy step upon the grass behind him. + +He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doctrine of shadows. + +The Scotch servant saw from a pantry window the shadow of a cap +projected on the grass, with a face, and part of a body. She stepped +out, and got upon the grass. + +Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as cunning; and, owing +to the wind and his absorption, stole on him unheard, and pinned him +with her strong hands by both his shoulders. + +Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and administered a back kick +that made Jessie limp for two days, and scream very lustily for the +present. + +Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee-pot with a +crash and a tinkle, and ran out directly, and secured young Hopeful, +who thereupon began to quake and remonstrate. + +"I was only taking a look," said he. "Where's the harm of that?" + +"You were trespassing, sir," said Richard Bassett. + +"What is the harm of that, governor? You can come over all our place, +for what I care." + +"Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place." + +"Well, I don't. I say, old chap, don't hit me. 'Twas I put 'em all on +the scent of your kid, you know." + +"So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits." + +"Don't it? You ain't such a bad sort, after all." + +"Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here again, that will be +a fresh account, and I shall open it with a horsewhip." + +He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like the wind. When he +was gone, Richard Bassett became rather uneasy. He had hitherto +concealed, even from his own family, the great wealth his humble home +contained. His secret was now public. Reginald had no end of low +companions. If burglars got scent of this, it might be very awkward. At +last he hit upon a defense. He got one of those hooks ending in a screw +which are used for pictures, and screwed it into the inside of the +cupboard door near the top. To this he fastened a long piece of catgut, +and carried it through the floor. His bed was just above the cupboard +door, and he attached the gut to a bell by his bedside. By this means +nobody could open that cupboard without ringing in his ears. + +Jessie told Tom, Tom told Maria and Harriet; Harriet and Maria told +everybody; somebody told Sir Charles. He was deeply mortified. + +"You young idiot!" said he, "would nothing less than this serve your +turn? must you go and lower me and yourself by giving just offense to +my one enemy?--the man I hate and despise, and who is always on the +watch to injure or affront me. Oh, who would be a father! There, pack +up your things; you will go to school next morning at eight o'clock." + +Mr. Reginald packed accordingly, but that did not occupy long; so he +sallied forth, and, taking for granted that it was Richard Bassett who +had been so mean as to tell, he purchased some paint and brushes and a +rope, and languished until midnight. + +But when that magic hour came he was brisk as a bee, let himself down +from his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett's front door, and +inscribed thereon, in large and glaring letters, + +"JERRY SNEAK, ESQ., Tell-Tale Tit." + +He then returned home much calmed and comforted, climbed up his rope +and into his room, and there slept sweetly, as one who had discharged +his duty to his neighbor and society in general. + +In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried the grooms, and +was off before the appointed time. + +Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young Hopeful gone, without +the awkward ceremony of leave-taking. + +Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his table, and among +them one rarer to him than ortolan, pin-tail, or wild turkey (in which +last my soul delights); for he found a letter from Richard Bassett, +Esq. + + + +"SIR--Some nights since we caught your successor that is to be, at my +dining-room window, prying into my private affairs. Having the honor of +our family at heart, I was about to administer a little wholesome +correction, when he reminded me he had been instrumental in tracking +Miss Bassett, and thereby rescuing her: upon this I was, naturally, +mollified, and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen the +last of him at Highmore. + +"This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, and as Mr. +Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yesterday afternoon, it is +doubtless to him I am indebted for them. + +"I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put them down to +your credit, and your son's. + +"Your obedient servant, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that morning; so Sir +Charles digested this dish in solitude. + +He was furious with Reginald; but as Richard Bassett's remonstrance was +intended to insult him, he wrote back as follows: + + + +"SIR--I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should descend to look in +at your windows, or to write anything whatever upon your door; and I +will take care it shall never recur. + +"Yours obediently, + +"CHARLES DYKE BASSETT." + + + +This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the coals of hatred +between the cousins. + + + +Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar in his new master. + +That gentleman punished him severely for every breach of discipline. +The study was a cool dark room, with one window looking north, and that +window barred. Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time, +upon the slightest escapade. + +Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewailing his lot, and +praying to be removed. + +Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of Mr. Richard +Bassett's letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher at the same time, expressing +his full approval. + +Thus disciplined, the boy began to change; he became moody, sullen, +silent, and even sleepy. This was the less wonderful, that he generally +escaped at night to a gypsy camp, and courted a gypsy girl, who was +nearly as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far more +knowing. + +His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon knew all about +him and his parents. + +One morning the servants got up supernaturally early, to wash. Mr. +Reginald was detected stealing back to his roost, and reported to the +master. + +Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the study alone, put +the other students into the drawing-room, and erected bars to his +bedroom window. + +A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a cage. + +A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to the servants, +and wormed out the truth. + +Then she came at night under his window, and made him a signal. He told +her his hard case, and told her also a resolution he had come to. She +informed the tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up to +him; in two nights he was through the bars; the third he was free, and +joined his sable friends. + +They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, asses, tents, and +baggage, and were many miles away by daybreak, without troubling +turnpikes. + +The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher half hoped he might +come back; still he sent to the nearest station, and telegraphed to +Huntercombe. + +Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once into +Cambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and learned that the boy had +been seen consorting with a tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, that +these were rather high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that they +dealt in horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two of the girls +were handsome, and also singers. + +Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; wrote to the mayors +of towns; advertised, with full description and large reward, and +brought such pressure to bear upon the Egyptians, that the band begin +to fear: they consulted, and took measures for their own security; none +too soon, for, they being encamped on Grey's Common in Oxfordshire, Sir +Charles and the rural police rode into the camp and demanded young +Hopeful. + +They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew nothing of the +matter, and, with injured innocence, invited a full inspection. + +The invitation was accepted. + +Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be struck with an +idea. "It is the young gentleman who wanted to join us in +Cambridgeshire." + +Then all their throats opened at once. "Yes, gentleman, there was a +lovely young gentleman wanted to come with us; but we wouldn't have +him. What could we do with him?" + +Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and continued his researches, +telegraphing Lady Bassett twice every day. + +A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no longer young, but +still a striking figure: had once, no doubt, been superlatively +handsome. Even now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter: +but his life had impregnated his noble features with hardness and +meanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, and servile: an +excellent figure for a painter, though; born in Spain, he was not +afraid of color, had a red cap on his snaky black hair, and a striped +waistcoat. + +He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm. + +He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. Meyrick. + +The female servant who opened the door ran her eye up and down him, and +said, bruskly, "What do you want with her, my man? because she is +busy." + +"Oh, she will see me, miss." + +Softened by the "miss," the girl laughed, and said, "What makes you +think that, my man?" + +"Give her this, miss," said the gypsy, "and she will come to me." + +He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper. + +Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under the +corner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger and +thumb operating through the linen. By this means she avoided two +evils--her fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not dirty +her fingers. + +She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose arms were deep in a +wash-tub. + +Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, and for six +months would not put her hand to anything. But those twin cajolers of +the female heart, Dignity and Laziness, made her so utterly wretched, +that she returned to her old habits of work, only she combined with it +the sweets of domination. + +Sally came in and said, "It's an old gypsy, which he have brought you +this." + +Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her brown but shapely +arms, and, whipping a wet hand under her apron, took the note just as +Sally had. It contained these words only: + + + +"NURSE--The old Romance will tell you all about me. + +"REGINALD." + + + +She had no sooner read it than she took her sleeves down, and whipped +her shawl off a peg and put it on, and took off her apron--and all for +an old gypsy. No stranger must take her for anything but a lady. + +Thus embellished in a turn of the hand, she went hastily to the door. + +She and the gypsy both started at sight of each other, and Mrs. Meyrick +screamed. + + + +"Why, what brings you here, old man?" said she, panting. The gypsy +answered with oily sweetness, "The little gentleman sent me, my dear. +Why, you look like a queen." + +"Hush!" said Mrs. Meyrick.--"Come in here." + +She made the old gypsy sit down, and she sat close to him. + +"Speak low, daddy," said she, "and tell me all about my boy, my +beautiful boy." + +The old gypsy told Mrs. Meyrick the wrongs of Reginald that had driven +him to this; and she fell to crying and lamenting, and inveighing +against all concerned--schoolmaster, Sir Charles, Lady Bassett, and the +gypsies. Them the old man defended, and assured her the young gentleman +was in good hands, and would be made a little king of, all the more +that Keturah had told them there was gypsy blood in him. + +Mrs. Meyrick resented this loudly, and then returned to her grief. + +When she had indulged that grief for a long time, she felt a natural +desire to quarrel with somebody, and she actually put on her bonnet, +and was going to the Hall to give Lady Bassett a bit of her mind, for +she said that lady had never shown the feelings of a woman for the +lamb. + +But she thought better of it, and postponed the visit. "I shall be sure +to say something I shall be sorry for after," said she; so she sat down +again, and returned to her grief. + +Nor could she ever shake it off as thoroughly as she had done any other +trouble in her life. + +Months after this, she said to Sally, with a burst of tears, "I never +nursed but one, and I shall never nurse another; and now he is across +the seas." + +She kept the old gypsy at the farm; or, to speak more correctly, she +made the farm his headquarters. She assigned him the only bedroom he +would accept, viz., a cattle-shed, open on one side. She used often to +have him into her room when she was alone; she gave him some of her +husband's clothes, and made him wear a decent hat; by these means she +effaced, in some degree, his nationality, and then she compelled her +servants to call him "the foreign gent." + +The foreign gent was very apt to disappear in fine weather, but rain +soon drove him back to her fireside, and hunger to her flesh-pots. + +On the very day the foreign gent came to Meyrick's farm Lady Bassett +had a letter by post from Reginald. + + + +"DEAR MAMMA--I am gone with the gypsies across the water. I am sorry to +leave you. You are the right sort: but they tormented me so with their +books and their dark rooms. It is very unfortunate to be a boy. When I +am a man, I shall be too old to be tormented, and then I will come +back. + +"Your dutiful son, + +"REGINALD." + + + +Lady Bassett telegraphed Sir Charles, and he returned to Huntercombe, +looking old, sad, and worn. + +Lady Bassett set herself to comfort and cheer him, and this was her +gentle office for many a long month. + +She was the more fit for it, that her own health and spirits revived +the moment Reginald left the country with his friends the gypsies; the +color crept back to her cheek, her spirits revived, and she looked as +handsome, and almost as young, as when she married. She tasted +tranquillity. Year after year went by without any news of Reginald, and +the hope grew that he would never cross her threshold again, and +Compton be Sir Charles's heir without any more trouble. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +OUR story now makes a bold skip. Compton Bassett was fourteen years +old, a youth highly cultivated in mind and trained in body, but not +very tall, and rather effeminate looking, because he was so fair and +his skin so white. + +For all that, he was one of the bowlers in the Wolcombe Eleven, whose +cricket-ground was the very meadow in which he had erst gathered +cowslips with Ruperta Bassett; and he had a canoe, which he carried to +adjacent streams, however narrow, and paddled it with singular skill +and vigor. A neighboring miller, suffering under drought, was heard to +say, "There ain't water enough to float a duck; nought can swim but the +dab-chicks and Muster Bassett." + +He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take long walks with +him, and leave the horses to eat their oats in peace. + +In these walks young master botanized and geologized his own father, +and Sir Charles gave him a little politics, history, and English +poetry, in return. He had a tutor fresh from Oxford for the classics. + +One day, returning with his father from a walk, they met a young lady +walking toward them from the village; she was tall, and a superb +brunette. + +Now it was rather a rare thing to see a lady walking through that +village, so both Sir Charles and his son looked keenly at her as she +came toward them. + +Compton turned crimson, and raised his hat to her rather awkwardly. + +Sir Charles, who did not know the lady from Eve, saluted her, +nevertheless, and with infinite grace; for Sir Charles, in his youth, +had lived with some of the elite of French society, and those gentlemen +bow to the person whom their companion bows to. Sir Charles had +imported this excellent trait of politeness, and always practiced it, +though not the custom in England, the more the pity. + +As soon as the young lady had passed and was out of hearing, Sir +Charles said to Compton, "Who is that lovely girl? Why, how the boy is +blushing!" + +"Oh, papa!" + +"Well, what is the matter?" + +"Don't you see? It is herself come back from school." + +"I have no doubt it is herself, and not her sister, but who is +herself?" + +"Ruperta Bassett." + +"Richard Bassett's daughter! impossible. That young lady looks +seventeen or eighteen years of age." + +"Yes, but it is Ruperta. There's nobody like her. Papa!" + +"Well?" + +"I suppose I may speak to her now." + +"What for?" + +"She is so beautiful." + +"That she really is. And therefore I advise you to have nothing to say +to her. You are not children now, you know. Were you to renew that +intimacy, you might be tempted to fall in love with her. I don't say +you would be so mad, for you are a sensible boy; but still, after that +little business in the wood--" + +"But suppose I did fall in love with her?" + +"Then that would be a great misfortune. Don't you know that her father +is my enemy? If you were to make any advances to that young lady, he +would seize the opportunity to affront you, and me through you." + +This silenced Compton, for he was an obedient youth. + +But in the evening he got to his mother and coaxed her to take his +part. + +Now Lady Bassett felt the truth of all her husband had said; but she +had a positive wish the young people should be on friendly terms, at +all events; she wanted the family feud to die with the generation it +had afflicted. She promised, therefore, to speak to Sir Charles; and so +great was her influence that she actually obtained terms for Compton: +he might speak to Miss Bassett, if he would realize the whole +situation, and be very discreet, and not revive that absurd familiarity +into which, their childhood had been betrayed. + +She communicated this to him, and warned him at the same time that even +this concession had been granted somewhat reluctantly, and in +consideration of his invariable good conduct; it would be immediately +withdrawn upon the slightest indiscretion. + +"Oh, I will be discretion itself," said Compton; but the warmth with +which he kissed his mother gave her some doubts. However, she was +prepared to risk something. She had her own views in this matter. + +When he had got this limited permission, Master Compton was not much +nearer the mark; for he was not to call on the young lady, and she did +not often walk in the village. + +But he often thought of her, her loving, sprightly ways seven years +ago, and the blaze of beauty with which she had returned. + +At last, one Sunday afternoon, she came to church alone. When the +congregation dispersed, he followed her, and came up with her, but his +heart beat violently. + +"Miss Bassett!" said he, timidly. + +She stopped, and turned her eyes on him; he blushed up to the temples. +She blushed too, but not quite so much. + +"I am afraid you don't remember me," said the boy, sadly. + +"Yes, I do, sir," said Ruperta, shyly. + +"How you are grown!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You are taller than I am, and more beautiful than ever." + +No answer, but a blush. + +"You are not angry with me for speaking to you?" + +"No, sir." + +"I wouldn't offend you." + +"I am not offended. Only--" + +"Oh, Miss Bassett, of course I know you will never be--we shall never +be--like we used." + +A very deep blush, and dead silence. + +"You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy still, somehow. But +it _would_ have been hard if I might not even speak to you. Would it +not?" + +"Yes," said the young lady, but after some hesitation, and only in a +whisper. + +"I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you out but once." + +No reply to this little feeler. + +Then, at last, Compton was discouraged, partly by her beauty and size, +partly by her taciturnity. + +He was silent in return, and so, in a state of mutual constraint, they +reached the gate of Highmore. + +"Good-by," said Compton reluctantly. + +"Good-by." + +"Won't you shake hands?" + +She blushed, and put out her hand halfway. He took it and shook it, and +so they parted. + +Compton said to his mother disconsolately, "Mamma, it is all over. I +have seen her, and spoken to her; but she has gone off dreadfully." + +"Why, what is the matter?" + +"She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She has +not a word to say to a fellow." + +"Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young lady +now." + +"Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the bright +little darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid, +dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma." + +"Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, don't take _too +much_ notice of her, and then you will find she will not be nearly so +shy." + +"Too much notice! I shall never speak to her again--perhaps." + +"I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why not treat her like +any other acquaintance?" + +Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone. + +In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a second time. +Horror! she was all monosyllables and blushes again. + +Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reached +Highmore gate, he lost his patience, and said, "I see how it is. I have +lost my sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble you +any more." And he held out his hand to the young lady for a final +farewell. + +Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, and +then, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, +then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the +mother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all in +less than two seconds. + +Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, but +not a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so much +feminine dignity. + +After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he cast +a few sheep's-eyes at her in church. + +Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbidden +her to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion. + +She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, +she had snubbed him so. + +"Dear me!" said Mrs. Bassett, "why did you do that? Can you not be +polite and nothing more?" + +"No, mamma." + +"Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so." + +"He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I am +afraid he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poor +little fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinks +me a cross, ill-tempered thing; and I _am_ very unkind to him, but I +can't help it." + +"Never mind," said Mrs. Bassett; "that is much better than to be too +forward. Papa would never forgive that." + +By-and-by there was a cricket-match in the farmer's meadow, Highcombe +and Huntercombe eleven against the town of Staveleigh. All clubs liked +to play at Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and the +dinner, and the young farmers drank his champagne to their hearts' +content. + +Ruperta took her maid and went to see the match. They found it going +against Huntercombe. The score as follows-- + +Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight runs. + +Huntercombe eighty-eight. + +Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; and +Johnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of the +bowling. + +This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul in +the game. + +The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen more +before the young lady's eyes. + +"Oh, dear!" said she, "what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl? +They pretend he is a capital bowler." + +At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from the +wicket than usual. + +Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientific +hitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hit +for four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and, +running with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a +few yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throw +himself forward into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held the +ball in sight all the while. + +Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky. + +Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by. + +She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and +touched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did +not speak to her. + +This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to be +delivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg. + +The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like most +country players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ball +exactly right, and sent it whizzing for five. + +But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went at +first bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, +like a catapult, at Wright's wicket. + +Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become of +the ball, started to run, as a matter of course. + +But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's hands +like a bullet, cried, "Back!" + +Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball had +required handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill with +luck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very +judiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a +second before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. + +"How's that, umpire?" cried the wicket-keeper. + +"Out!" said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at that end. + +Up went the ball into the air, amid great excitement of the natives. + +Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, nodded all sparkling +to Compton, and that made his heart beat and his soul aspire. So next +over he claimed his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriended +him: he bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket-keeper stumped +a fifth: the rest were "the tail," and disposed of for a few runs, and +the total was no more than Huntercombe's first innings. + +Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs before he was +disposed of, five wickets down for a hundred and ten runs. The match +was not won yet, nor sure to be; but the situation was reversed. + +On going out, he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta naturally felt proud +of her admirer. + +Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some iced champagne. + +Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so imploringly that she +sipped a little, and said, warmly, "I hope we shall win: and, if we do, +I know whom we shall have to thank." + +"And so do I: you, Miss Bassett." + +"Me? Why, what have _I_ done in the matter?" + +"You brought us luck, for one thing. You put us on our mettle. +Staveleigh shall never beat _me,_ with you looking on." + +Ruperta blushed a little, for the boy's eyes beamed with fire. + +"If I believed that," said she, "I should hire myself out at the next +match, and charge twelve pairs of gloves." + +"You may believe it, then; ask anybody whether our luck did not change +the moment you came." + +"Then I am afraid it will go now, for I am going." + +"You will lose us the match if you do," said Compton. + +"I can't help it: now you are out, it is rather insipid. There, you see +I can pay compliments as well as you." + +Then she made a graceful inclination and moved away. + +Compton felt his heart ache at parting. He took a thought and ran +quickly to a certain part of the field. + +Ruperta and her attendant walked very slowly homeward. + +Compton caught them just at their own gate. "Cousin!" said he, +imploringly, and held her out a nosegay of cowslips only. + +At that the memories rushed back on her, and the girl seemed literally +to melt. She gave him one look full of womanly sensibility and winning +tenderness, and said, softly, "Thank you, cousin." + +Compton went away on wings: the ice was broken. + +But the next time he met her it had frozen again apparently: to be sure +she was alone; and young ladies will be bolder when they have another +person of their own sex with them. + + + +Mr. Angelo called on Sir Charles Bassett to complain of a serious +grievance. + +Mr. Angelo had become zealous and eloquent, but what are eloquence and +zeal against sex? A handsome woman had preached for ten minutes upon a +little mound outside the village, and had announced she should say a +few parting words next Sunday evening at six o'clock. + +Mr. Angelo complained of this to Lady Bassett. + +Lady Bassett referred him to Sir Charles. + +Mr. Angelo asked that magistrate to enforce the law against +conventicles. + +Sir Charles said he thought the Act did not apply. + +"Well, but," said Angelo, "it is on your ground she is going to +preach." + +"I am the proprietor, but the tenant is the owner in law. He could warn +_me_ off his ground. I have no power." + +"I fear you have no inclination," said Angelo, nettled. + +"Not much, to tell the truth," replied Sir Charles coolly. "Does it +matter so very much _who_ sows the good seed, or whether it is flung +abroad from a pulpit or a grassy knoll?" + +"That is begging the question, Sir Charles. Why assume that it is good +seed? it is more likely to be tares than wheat in this case." + +"And is not that begging the question? Well, I will make it my business +to know: and if she preaches sedition, or heresy, or bad morals, I will +strain my power a little to silence her. More than that I really cannot +promise you. The day is gone by for intolerance." + +"Intolerance is a bad thing; but the absence of all conviction is +worse, and that is what we are coming to." + +"Not quite that: but the nation has tasted liberty; and now every man +assumes to do what is right in his own eyes." + +"That mean's what is wrong in his neighbor's." + +Sir Charles thought this neat, and laughed good-humoredly: he asked the +rector to dine on Sunday at half-past seven. "I shall know more about +it by that time," said he. + +They dined early on Sunday, at Highmore, and Ruperta took her maid for +a walk in the afternoon, and came back in time to hear the female +preacher. + +Half the village was there already, and presently the preacher walked +to her station. + +To Ruperta's surprise, she was a lady, richly dressed, tall and +handsome, but with features rather too commanding. She had a glove on +her left hand, and a little Bible in her right hand, which was large, +but white, and finely formed. + +She delivered a short prayer, and opened her text: + +"Walk honestly; not in strife and envying." + +Just as the text was given out, Ruperta's maid pinched her, and the +young lady, looking up, saw her father coming to see what was the +matter. Maid was for hiding, but Ruperta made a wry face, blushed, and +stood her ground. "How can he scold me, when he comes himself?" she +whispered. + +During the sermon, of which, short as it was, I can only afford to give +the outline, in crept Compton Bassett, and got within three or four of +Ruperta. + +Finally Sir Charles Bassett came up, in accordance with his promise to +Angelo. + +The perfect preacher deals in generalities, but strikes them home with +a few personalities. + +Most clerical preachers deal only in generalities, and that is +ineffective, especially to uncultivated minds. + +Mrs. Marsh, as might be expected from her sex, went a little too much +the other way. + +After a few sensible words, pointing out the misery in houses, and the +harm done to the soul, by a quarrelsome spirit, she lamented there was +too much of it in Huntercombe: with this opening she went into +personalities: reminded them of the fight between two farm servants +last week, one of whom was laid up at that moment in consequence. +"And," said she, "even when it does not come to fighting, it poisons +your lives and offends your Redeemer." + +Then she went into the causes, and she said Drunkenness and Detraction +were the chief causes of strife and contention. + +She dealt briefly but dramatically with Drunkenness, and then lashed +Detraction, as follows: + +"Every class has its vices, and Detraction is the vice of the poor. You +are ever so much vainer than your betters: you are eaten up with +vanity, and never give your neighbor a good word. I have been in thirty +houses, and in not one of those houses has any poor man or poor woman +spoken one honest word in praise of a neighbor. So do not flatter +yourselves this is a Christian village, for it is not. The only excuse +to be made for you, and I fear it is not one that God will accept on +His judgment-day, is that your betters set you a bad example instead of +a good one. The two principal people in this village are kinsfolk, yet +enemies, and have been enemies for twenty years. That's a nice example +for two Christian gentlemen to set to poor people, who, they may be +sure, will copy their sins, if they copy nothing else. + +"They go to church regularly, and believe in the Bible, and yet they +defy both Church and Bible. + +"Now I should like to ask those gentlemen a question. How do they mean +to manage in Heaven? When the baronet comes to that happy place, where +all is love, will the squire walk out? Or do they think to quarrel +there, and so get turned out, both of them? I don't wonder at your +smiling; but it is a serious consideration, for all that. The soul of +man is immortal: and what is the soul? it is not a substantial thing, +like the body; it is a bundle of thoughts and feelings: the thoughts we +die with in this world, we shall wake up with them in the next. Yet +here are two Christians loading their immortal souls with immortal +hate. What a waste of feeling, if it must all be flung off together +with the body, lest it drag the souls of both down to bottomless +perdition. + +"And what do they gain in this world?--irritation, ill-health, and +misery. It is a fact that no man ever reached a great old age who hated +his neighbor; still less a _good_ old age; for, if men would look +honestly into their own hearts, they would own that to hate is to be +miserable. + +"I believe no men commit a sin for many years without some special +warnings; and to neglect these, is one sin more added to their account. +Such a warning, or rather, I should say, such a pleading of Divine +love, those two gentlemen have had. Do you remember, about eight years +ago, two children were lost on one day, out of different houses in this +village?" (A murmur from the crowd.) + +"Perhaps some of you here present were instrumental, under God, in +finding that pretty pair." (A louder murmur.) + +"Oh, don't be afraid to answer me. Preaching is only a way of speaking; +and I'm only a woman that is speaking to you for your good. Tell me--we +are not in church, tied up by stait-laced rules to keep men and women +from getting within arm's-length of one another's souls--tell me, who +saw those two lost children?" + +"I, I, I, I, I," roared several voices in reply. + +"Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent darlings had +each an arm round the other's neck?" + +"Ay." + +"And little coronets of flowers, to match their hair?" (That was the +girl's doing.) + +"Ay." + +"And the little boy had played the man, and taken off his tippet to put +round the little lady?" + +"Ay!" with a burst of enthusiasm from the assembled rustics. + +"I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting up the dewy leaves +overhead, and that Divine picture of innocent love. Well, which was the +prettiest sight, and the fittest for heaven--the hatred of the parents, +or the affection of the children? + +"And now mark what a weapon hatred is, in the Devil's hands. There are +only two people in this parish on whom that sight was wasted; and those +two being gentlemen, and men of education, would have been more +affected by it than humble folk, if Hell had not been in their hearts, +for Hate comes from Hell, and takes men down to the place it comes +from. + +"Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of your betters: +and I hope those children will shun it too. A father is to be treated +with great veneration, but above all is our Heavenly Father and His +law; and that law, what is it?--what has it been this eighteen hundred +years and more? Why, Love. + +"Would you be happy in this world, and fit your souls to dwell +hereafter even in the meanest of the many mansions prepared above, you +_must,_ above all things, be charitable. You must not run your neighbor +down behind his back, or God will hate you: you must not wound him to +his face, or God will hate you. You must overlook a fault or two, and +see a man's bright side, and then God will love you. If you won't do +that much for your neighbor, why, in Heaven's name, should God overlook +a multitude of sins in you? + +"Nothing goes to heaven surer than Charity, and nothing is so fit to +sit in heaven. St. Paul had many things to be proud of and to praise in +himself--things that the world is more apt to admire than Christian +charity, the sweetest, but humblest of all the Christian graces: St. +Paul, I say, was a bulwark of learning, an anchor of faith, a rock of +constancy, a thunder-bolt of zeal: yet see how he bestows the palm. + +"'Knowledge puffeth up: but charity edifieth. Though I speak with the +tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as +sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of +prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I +have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, +I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and +though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth +me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; +charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself +unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no +evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth +all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all +things. Charity never faileth; but prophecies--they shall fail; +tongues--they shall cease; knowledge--it shall vanish away. And now +abideth Faith, Hope, Charity, these three; but the greatest of these is +charity.'" + +The fair orator delivered these words with such fire, such feeling, +such trumpet tones and heartfelt eloquence, that for the first time +those immortal words sounded in these village ears true oracles of God. + +Then, without pause, she went on. "So let us lift our hearts in earnest +prayer to God that, in this world of thorns, and tempers, and trials, +and troubles, and cares, He will give us the best cure for all--the +great sweetener of this mortal life--the sure forerunner of Heaven--His +most excellent gift of charity." Then, in one generous burst, she +prayed for love divine, and there was many a sigh and many a tear, and +at the close an "Amen!" such as, alas! we shall never, I fear, hear +burst from a hundred bosoms where men repeat beautiful but stale words +and call it prayer. + +The preacher retired, but the people still lingered spell-bound, and +then arose that buzz which shows that the words have gone home. + +As for Richard Bassett, he had turned on his heel, indignant, as soon +as the preacher's admonitions came his way. + +Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, being steeled by +the conviction that the quarrel was none of his seeking. Moreover, he +was not aware what a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what a +good wife she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. His mind, +therefore, made a clear leap from Rhoda Somerset, the vixen of Hyde +Park and Mayfair, to this preacher, and he could not help smiling; than +which a worse frame for receiving unpalatable truths can hardly be +conceived. And so the elders were obdurate. But Compton and Ruperta had +no armor of old age, egotism, or prejudice to turn the darts of honest +eloquence. They listened, as to the voice of an angel; they gazed, as +on the face of an angel; and when those silvery accents ceased, they +turned toward each other and came toward each other, with the sweet +enthusiasm that became their years. "Oh, Cousin Ruperta!" quavered +Compton. '"Oh, Cousin Compton!" cried Ruperta, the tears trickling down +her lovely cheeks. + +They could not say any more for ever so long. + +Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, "I will go and +speak to her, and thank her." + +"Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea," suggested the maid. + +"Tea!" said Ruperta. "Our souls are before our tea! I must speak to +her, or else my heart will choke me and kill me. I will go--and so will +Compton." + +"Oh, yes!" said Compton. + +And they hurried after the preacher. + +They came up with her flushed and panting; and now it was Compton's +turn to be shy--the lady was so tall and stately too. + +But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in petticoats. "Oh, madam," +said she, "if you please, may we speak to you?" + +Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline features softened +instantly at the two specimens of beauty and innocence that had run +after her. + +"Certainly, my young friends;" and she smiled maternally on them. She +had children of her own. + +"Who do you think we are? We are the two naughty children you preached +about so beautifully." + +"What! _you_ the babes in the wood?" + +"Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we are fifteen now--are +we not, Cousin Compton?" + +"Yes, madam." + +"And we are both so unhappy at our parents' quarreling. At least I am." + +"And so am I." + +"And we came to thank you. Didn't we, Compton?" + +"Yes, Ruperta." + +"And to ask your advice. How are we to make our parents be friends? Old +people will not be advised by young ones. They look down on us so; it +is dreadful." + +"My dear young lady," said Mrs. Marsh, "I will try and answer you: but +let me sit down a minute; for, after preaching, I am apt to feel a +little exhausted. Now, sit beside me, and give me each a hand, if you +please. + +"Well, my dears, I have been teaching you a lesson; and now you teach +me one, and that is, how much easier it is to preach reconciliation and +charity than it is to practice it under certain circumstances. However, +my advice to you is first to pray to God for wisdom in this thing, and +then to watch every opportunity. Dissuade your parents from every +unkind act: don't be afraid to speak--with the word of God at your +back. I know that you have no easy task before you. Sir Charles Bassett +and Mr. Bassett were both among my hearers, and both turned their backs +on me, and went away unsoftened; they would not give me a chance; would +not hear me to an end, and I am not a wordy preacher neither." + +Here an interruption occurred. Ruperta, so shy and cold with Compton, +flung her arms round Mrs. Marsh's neck, with the tears in her eyes, and +kissed her eagerly. + +"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in turn, "I _was_ a +little mortified. But that was very weak and foolish. I am sorry, for +their own sakes, they would not stay; it was the word of God: but they +saw only the unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you _have_ a +hard task; but you must work upon your mothers, and win them to +charity." + +"Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never approved this +unhappy quarrel." + +"No more has mine." + +"Is it so? Then you must try and get the two ladies to speak to each +other. But something tells me that a way will be opened. Have patience; +have faith; and do not mind a check or two; but persevere, remembering +that 'blessed are the peace-makers.'" + +She then rose, and they took leave of her. + +"Give me a kiss, children," said she. "You have done me a world of +good. My own heart often flags on the road, and you have warmed and +comforted it. God bless you!" + +And so they parted. + +Compton and Ruperta walked homeward. Ruperta was very thoughtful, and +Compton could only get monosyllables out of her. This discouraged, and +at last vexed him. + +"What have I done," said he, "that you will speak to anybody but me?" + +"Don't be cross, child," said she; "but answer me a question. Did you +put your tippet round me in that wood?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Oh, then you don't remember doing it, eh?" + +"No; that I don't." + +"Then what makes you think you did?" + +"Because they say so. Because I must have been such an awful cad if I +didn't. And I was always much fonder of you than you were of me. My +tippet! I'd give my head sooner than any harm should come to you, +Ruperta!" + +Ruperta made no reply, but, being now at Highmore, she put out her hand +to him, and turned her head away. He kissed her hand devotedly, and so +they parted. + +Compton told Lady Bassett all that happened, and Ruperta told Mrs. +Bassett. + +Those ladies readily promised to be on the side of peace, but they +feared it could only be the work of time, and said so. + +By-and-by Compton got impatient, and told Ruperta he had thought of a +way to compel their fathers to be friends. "I am afraid you won't like +the idea at _first,"_ said he; "but the more you think of it, the more +you will see it is the surest way of all." + +"Well, but what is it?" + +"You must let me marry you." + +Ruperta stared, and began to blush crimson. + +"Will you, cousin?" + +"Of course not, child. The idea!" + +"Oh, Ruperta," cried the boy in dismay, "surely you don't mean to marry +anybody else but me!" + +"Would that make you very unhappy, then?" + +"You know it would, wretched for my life." + +"I should not like to do that. But I disapprove of early marriages. I +mean to wait till I'm nineteen; and that is three years nearly." + +"It is a fearful time; but if you will promise not to marry anybody +else, I suppose I shall live through it." + +Ruperta, though she made light of Compton's offer, was very proud of it +(it was her first). She told her mother directly. + +Mrs. Bassett sighed, and said that was too blessed a thing ever to +happen. + +"Why not?" said Ruperta. + +"How could it," said Mrs. Bassett, "with everybody against it but poor +little me!" + +"Compton assures me that Lady Bassett wishes it." + +"Indeed! But Sir Charles and papa, Ruperta?" + +"Oh, Compton must talk Sir Charles over, and I will persuade papa. I'll +begin this evening, when he comes home from London." + +Accordingly, as he was sitting alone in the dining-room sipping his +glass of port, Ruperta slipped away from her mother's side and found +him. + +His face brightened at the sight of her; for he was extremely fond and +proud of this girl, for whom he would not have the bells rung when she +was born. + +She came and hung round his neck a little, and kissed him, and said +softly, "Dear papa, I have something to tell you. I have had a +proposal." + +Richard Bassett stared. + +"What, of marriage?" + +Ruperta nodded archly. + +"To a child like you? Scandalous! No, for, after all, you look nineteen +or twenty. And who is the highwayman that thinks to rob me of my +precious girl?" + +"Well, papa, whoever he is, he will have to wait three years, and so I +told him. It is my cousin Compton." + +"What!" cried Richard Bassett, so loudly that the girl started back +dismayed. "That little monkey have the impudence to offer marriage to +my daughter? Surely, Ruperta, you have offered him no encouragement?" + +"N--no." + +"Your mother promised me nothing but common civility should pass +between you and that young gentleman." + +"She promised for me, but she could not promise for him--poor little +fellow!" + +"Marry a son of the man who has robbed and insulted your father!" + +"Oh, papa! is it so? Are you sure you did not begin?" + +"If you can think that, it is useless to say more. I thought +ill-fortune had done its worst; but no; blow upon blow, and wound upon +wound. Don't spare me, child. Nobody else has, and why should you? +Marry my enemy's son, his younger son, and break your father's heart." + +At this, what could a sensitive girl of sixteen do but burst out +crying, and promise, round her father's neck, never to marry any one +whom he disliked. + +When she had made this promise, her father fondled and petted her, and +his tenderness consoled her, for she was not passionately in love with +her cousin. + +Yet she cried a good deal over the letter in which she communicated +this to Compton. + +He lay in wait for her; but she baffled him for three weeks. + +After that she relaxed her vigilance, for she had no real wish to avoid +him, and was curious to see whether she had cured him. + +He met her; and his conduct took her by surprise. He was pale, and +looked very wretched. + +He said solemnly, "Were you jesting with me when you promised to marry +no one but me?" + +"No, Compton. But you know I could never marry you without papa's +consent." + +"Of course not; but, what I fear, he might wish you to marry somebody +else." + +"Then I should refuse. I will never break my word to you, cousin. I am +not in love with you, you are too young for that--but somehow I feel I +could not make you unhappy. Can't you trust my word? You might. I come +of the same people as you. Why do you look so pale?--we are very +unhappy." + +Then the tears began to steal down her cheeks; and Compton's soon +followed. + +Compton consulted his mother. She told him, with a sigh, she was +powerless. Sir Charles might yield to her, but she had no power to +influence Mr. Bassett at present. "The time may come," said she. She +could not take a very serious view of this amour, except with regard to +its pacific results. So Mr. Bassett's opposition chilled her in the +matter. + +While things were so, something occurred that drove all these minor +things out of her distracted heart. + +One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and Compton sat at dinner, a +servant came in to say there was a stranger at the door, and he called +himself Bassett. + +"What is he like?" said Lady Bassett, turning pale. + +"He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is Mr. Bassett," +repeated the man, with a scandalized air. + +Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall door. Compton +followed to the door only and looked. + +Sure enough it was Reginald, full-grown, and bold, as handsome as ever, +and darker than ever. + +In that moment his misconduct in running away never occurred either to +Sir Charles or Compton; all was eager and tremulous welcome. The hall +rang with joy. They almost carried him into the dining-room. + +The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored velvet, half +hidden by the table. + +Compton ran forward with a cry of dismay. + +It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as white as her neck and +arms, and these as white and smooth as satin. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +LADY BASSETT was carried to her room, and did not reappear. She kept +her own apartments, and her health declined so rapidly that Sir Charles +sent for Dr. Willis. He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay in +the mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, and her +beautiful eyes began to shine like stars, preternaturally large. She +was in a frightful condition: she longed to tell the truth and end it +all; but then she must lose her adored husband's respect, and perhaps +his love; and she had not the courage. She saw no way out of it but to +die and leave her confession; and, as she felt that the agony of her +soul was killing her by degrees, she drew a somber resignation from +that. + +She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the sight of him. + +Compton came to her many times a day, with a face full of concern, and +even terror. But she would not talk to him of herself. + +He brought her all the news he heard, having no other way to cheer her. + +One day he told her there were robbers about. Two farmhouses had been +robbed, a thing not known in these parts for many years. + +Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing. + +But by-and-by her beloved son came to her in distress with a grief of +his own. + +Ruperta Bassett was now the beauty of the county, and it seems Mr. +Rutland had danced with her at her first ball, and been violently +smitten with her; he had called more than once at Highmore, and his +attentions were directly encouraged by Mr. Bassett. Now Mr. Rutland was +heir to a peerage, and also to considerable estates in the county. + +Compton was sick at heart, and, being young, saw his life about to be +blighted; so now he was pale and woe-begone, and told her the sad news +with such deep sighs, and imploring, tearful eyes, that all the mother +rose in arms. "Ah!" said she, "they say to themselves that I am down, +and cannot fight for my child; but I would fight for him on the edge of +the grave. Let me think all by myself, dear. Come back to me in an +hour. I shall do something. Your mother is a very cunning woman--for +those she loves." + +Compton kissed her gown--a favorite action of his, for he worshiped +her--and went away. + +The invalid laid her hollow cheek upon her wasted hand, and thought +with all her might. By degrees her extraordinary brain developed a +twofold plan of action; and she proceeded to execute the first part, +being the least difficult, though even that was not easy, and brought a +vivid blush to her wasted cheek. + +She wrote to Mrs. Bassett. + + + +"MADAM--I am very ill, and life is uncertain. Something tells me you, +like me, regret the unhappy feud between our houses. If this is so, it +would be a consolation to me to take you by the hand and exchange a few +words, as we already have a few kind looks. + +"Yours respectfully, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he might send a servant +with it to Highmore at once. + +"Oh, mamma!" said he, "I never thought you would do that: how good you +are! You couldn't ask Ruperta, could you? Just in a little postscript, +you know." + +Lady Bassett shook her head. + +"That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook that fish for you, not +frighten her away." + +Great was the astonishment at Highmore when a blazing footman knocked +at the door and handed Jessie the letter with assumed nonchalance, then +stalked away, concealing with professional art his own astonishment at +what he had done. + +It was no business of Jessie's to take letters into the drawing-room; +she would have deposited any other letter on the hall table; but she +brought this one in, and, standing at the door, exclaimed, "Here a +letter fr' Huntercombe!" + +Richard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Ruperta, all turned upon her with +one accord. + +"From where?" + +"Fr' Huntercombe itsel'. Et isna for you, nor for you, missy. Et's for +the mesterress." + +She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett and laid the letter down on the +table; then drew back a step or two, and, being Scotch, coolly waited +to hear the contents. Richard Basset, being English, told her she need +not stay. + +Mrs. Bassett cast a bewildered look at her husband and daughter, then +opened the letter quietly; read it quietly; and, having read it, took +out her handkerchief and began to cry quietly. + +Ruperta cried, "Oh, mamma!" and in a moment had one long arm round her +mother's neck, while the other hand seized the letter, and she read it +aloud, cheek to cheek; but, before she got to an end, her mother's +tears infected her, and she must whimper too. + +"Here are a couple of geese," said Richard Bassett. "Can't you write a +civil reply to a civil letter without sniveling? I'll answer the letter +for you." + +"No!" said Mrs. Bassett. + +Richard was amazed: Ruperta ditto. + +The little woman had never dealt in "Noes," least of all to her +husband; and besides this was such a plump "No." It came out of her +mouth like a marble. + +I think the sound surprised even herself a little, for she proceeded to +justify it at once. "I have been a better wife than a Christian this +many years. But there's a limit. And, Richard, I should never have +married you if you had told me we were to be at war all our lives with +our next neighbor, that everybody respects. To live in the country, and +not speak to our only neighbor, that is a life I never would have left +my father's house for. Not that I complain: if you have been bitter to +them, you have always been good and kind to me; and I hope I have done +my best to deserve it; but when a sick lady, and perhaps dying, holds +out her hand to me---write her one of your cold-blooded letters! That I +WON'T. Reply? my reply will be just putting on my bonnet and going to +her this afternoon. It is Passion-week, too; and that's not a week to +play the heathen. Poor lady! I've seen in her sweet eyes this many +years that she would gladly be friends with me; and she never passed me +close but she bowed to me, in church or out, even when we were at +daggers drawn. She is a lady, a real lady, every inch. But it is not +that altogether. No, if a sick woman called me to her bedside this +week, I'd go, whether she wrote from Huntercombe Hall or the poorest +house in the place; else how could I hope my Saviour would come to _my_ +bedside at my last hour?" + +This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to be +sure, but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Bassett, and +enraptured Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother's +neck, and cried, "Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best woman +in England, and now I know it." + +"Well, well, well," said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, "Did +I ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not set +up your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox. +Unfortunately, she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the +best, and she is going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Bassett will +turn our mother inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her; +you are a shrewd girl." + +"My daughter will not go till she is asked," said Mrs. Bassett, firmly. + +"In that case," said Richard, dryly, "let us hope the Lord will protect +you, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den." + +No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the words +of faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism. + +Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall. + +After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room where +Lady Bassett was lying on a sofa. + +Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her. + +She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that it +rather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Bassett changed +her style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, +and gentle amity, not overdone. + +Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other in +silence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill. + +"You would have come--like this--years ago--at a word?" faltered Lady +Bassett. + +"Yes," gulped Mrs. Bassett. + +Then there was another long pause. + +"Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us +both." + +"It will kill one of us." + +"Not if I can help it." + +"God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold +the hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage." + +"Why should you take the blame?" said Mrs. Bassett. "We have both been +good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a +husband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor +woman." + +"It is, indeed." + +Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassett +broke it, with some hesitation. "I hope, Lady Bassett, your present +illness is not in any way--I hope you do not fear anything more from my +husband?" + +"Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it--especially if we provoke +him? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave your +husband cause for just resentment." + +"Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, +Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace." + +"Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to +ask too much at once." + +"I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett." + +"No, bring her." + +"Then tell me your hour." + +"Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both to +myself." + + + +While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Bassett, +being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usual +skill upon her young mind. + +He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to see +her a countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage. + +He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week, +and requested her to receive him graciously. + +She promised that at once. + +"That," said he, "will be a much better match for you than the younger +son of Sir Charles Bassett. However, my girl is too proud to go into a +family where she is not welcome." + +"Much too proud for that," said Ruperta. + +He left her smarting under that suggestion. + +While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Bassett came home. +She was in raptures with Lady Bassett, and told her daughter all that +had passed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett to +take her to Huntercombe to-morrow. + +"Me, dear!" cried Ruperta; "why, what can she want of me?" + +"All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In my +opinion, you will be _very_ welcome to poor Lady Bassett." + +"Is she very ill?" + +Mrs. Bassett shook her head. "She is much changed. She says she should +be better if we were all at peace; but I don't know." + +"Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow." + +They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Bassett +received them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty and +womanly appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in a +moment. She spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion to +turn to the daughter, and to say, "May I hope, Miss Bassett, that you +are on the side of peace, like your dear mother and myself?" + +"I am," said Ruperta, firmly; "I always was--especially after that +beautiful sermon, you know, mamma." + +Says the proud mother, "You might tell Lady Bassett you think it is +your mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles." + +"Mamma!" said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. "If +you tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me +very presumptuous." + +"No, no," said Lady Bassett, "enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm +is beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth." + +"I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have no +enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me." + +"And so they are," said Lady Bassett warmly. + +But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I +can only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta a +beautiful and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and +Ruperta was charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touched +and interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made +friends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things had +passed between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she had +at heart. "My dear," said she to Ruperta, "when I first saw you, I +wondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so much +more advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I think +the poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all my +sympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just put +in my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bear +for my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear." + +"Thank you, Lady Bassett," said Mrs. Bassett; "and, since you have said +so much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to my +daughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THE +TIPPET." + +Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta only +blushed, and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the feats +of her childhood. + +Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly, +"You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for a +peacemaker partly." + +"My dear friend," said Lady Bassett, "you are speaking riddles to me; +what tippet?" + +"The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my +girl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me +keeping it, Lady Bassett--I know I was little better than a thief; but +it was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady +Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, +you are a mother;" and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, "why do you keep +saying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years +of age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of +any other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand many +things, and, for one, you'll--under--stand--why I'm so--fool--ish; +seeing the sweet boy's mother ready--to cry--too--oh! oh! oh!" + +Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet cry +together in each other's arms. + +Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought not +to agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill. + +"And that is true, my good, sensible girl," said Mrs. Bassett; "but it +has lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it to +myself any longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so I +suppose you think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you +warm." + +"Don't say that, mamma," said Ruperta, reproachfully. "I spoke to dear +Compton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even." + +"All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my own +girl." + +"I never will, mamma." + +By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urged +to declare her real sentiments. + +By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest she +should be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle in +her own mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal tried +her hard. + +She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, pretty +firmly and very slowly, "I had always a great affection for my cousin +Compton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but a +boy; now I--" + +A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty and +conscious womanhood, completed the sentence. + +"He will get older every day," said Mrs. Bassett. + +"And so shall I." + +"But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your full +growth. He hasn't." + +"I agree with the dear girl," said Lady Bassett, adroitly. "Compton, +with his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present. +But it is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage; +what I fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. To +speak plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, and +visits at Highmore." + +"Yes, he has been there twice." + +"He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and he +is not a boy, for he has long mustaches." + +"I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects," +said the fair young beauty. + +"You are an extraordinary girl." + +"That she is," said Mrs. Bassett. "Her father has no more power over +her than I have." + +"Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?" + +"No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way." + +Lady Bassett put in her word. "Well, but this one thing is the +happiness or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for looking +well before she leaps." + +A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker. + +"But," said Lady Bassett, tenderly, "it is something to have two +mothers when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, my +love; I would try and live for you." + +This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett's +neck, and they kissed each other like mother and daughter. + +"This is too great a temptation," said Ruperta. "Yes; I _will_ engage +myself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Without +his consent I could not marry any one." + +"Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot," said Mrs. Bassett. + +Ruperta shook her head. "Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years to +gain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate +as fifty." + +"It shall not take years, nor yet months," said Lady Bassett. "I know +_Mr. Bassett's_ objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may." + +This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply. + +Said Lady Bassett firmly, "Do you pledge yourself to me, if I can +obtain Mr. Bassett's consent?" + +"I do," said Ruperta. "But--" + +"You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hope +to show you you are mistaken." + +The ladies rose to go: Lady Bassett took leave of them thus: "Good-by, +my most valued friend, and sister in sorrow; good-by, my dear +daughter." + + + +At the gate of Huntercombe, whom should they meet but Compton Bassett, +looking very pale and unhappy. + +He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta; but he gazed on her with a +wistful and terrified look that was very touching. She gave him a soft +pitying smile in return, that drove him almost wild with hope. + +That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. + +When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their soft accents, he +returned short, surly answers. Evidently a storm was brewing. + +At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta's repeated visits to +Huntercombe Hall. "You are not dealing fairly with me, you two," said +he. "I allowed you to go once to see a woman that says she is very ill; +but I warned you she was the cunningest woman in creation, and would +make a fool of you both; and now I find you are always going. This will +not do. She is netting two simple birds that I have the care of. Now, +listen to me; I forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. Do +you hear me?" + +"We hear you, papa," said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; "we must be deaf, if +we did not." + +Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. + +"It is not a request, it is a command." + +Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. "And a most tyrannical +one," said she. + +Ruperta put her hand before her mother's mouth, then turned to her +father. + +"There was no need to express your wish so harshly, papa. We shall +obey." + +Then she whispered her mother, "And Mr. Rutland shall pay for it." + +Mrs. Bassett communicated this behest to Lady Bassett in a letter. + +Then Lady Bassett summoned all her courage, and sent for her son +Compton. "Compton," said she, "I must speak to Reginald. Can you find +him?" + +"Oh yes, I can find him. I am sorry to say anybody can find him at this +time of day." + +"Why, where is he?" + +"I hardly like to tell you." + +"Do you think his peculiarities have escaped me?" + +"At the public-house." + +"Ask him to come to me." + + + +Compton went to the public-house, and there, to his no small disgust, +found Mr. Reginald Bassett playing the fiddle, and four people, men and +women, dancing to the sound, while one or two more smoked and looked +on. + +Compton restrained himself till the end of that dance, and then stepped +up to Reginald and whispered him, "Mamma wants to see you directly." + +"Tell her I'm busy." + +"I shall tell her nothing of the kind. You know she is very ill, and +has not seen you yet; and now she wants to. So come along at once, like +a good fellow." + +"Youngster," said Reginald, "it is a rule with me never to leave a +young woman for an old one." + +"Not for your mother?" + +"No, nor my grandmother either." + +"Then you were born without a heart. But you shall come, whether you +like it or not--though I have to drag you there by the throat." + +"Learn to spell 'able' first." + +"I'll spell it on your head, if you don't come." + +"Oh, that is the game, young un, is it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, don't let us have a shindy on the bricks; there is a nice little +paddock outside. Come out there and I'll give you a lesson." + +"Thank you; I don't feel inclined to assist you in degrading our +family." + +"Chaps that are afraid to fight shouldn't threaten. Come now, the first +knock-down blow shall settle it. If I win, you stay here and dance with +us. If you win, I go to the old woman." + +Compton consented, somewhat reluctantly; but to do him justice, his +reluctance arose entirely from his sense of relationship, and not from +any fear of his senior. + +The young gentlemen took off their coats, and proceeded to spar without +any further ceremony. + +Reginald, whose agility was greater than his courage, danced about on +the tips of his toes, and succeeded in planting a tap or two on +Compton's cheek. + +Compton smarted under these, and presently, in following his +antagonist, who fought like a shadow, he saw Ruperta and her mother +looking horror-stricken over the palings. + +Infuriated with Reginald for this exposure, he rushed in at him, +received a severe cut over the eye, but dealt him with his mighty +Anglo-Saxon arm a full straightforward smasher on the forehead, which +knocked him head over heels like a nine-pin. + +That active young man picked himself up wondrous slowly; rheumatism +seemed to have suddenly seized his well-oiled joints; he then addressed +his antagonist, in his most ingratiating tones--"All right, sir," said +he. "You are the best man. I'll go to the old lady this minute." + +"I'll see you go," said Compton, sternly; "and mind I can run as well +as hit: so none of your gypsy tricks with me." + +Then he came sheepishly to the palings and said, "It is not my fault, +Miss Bassett; he would not come to mamma without, and she wants to +speak to him." + +"Oh! he is hurt! he is wounded!" cried Ruperta. "Come here to me." + +He came to her, and she pressed her white handkerchief tenderly on his +eyebrow; it was bleeding a little. + +"Well, are you coming?" said Reginald, ironically, "or do _you_ like +young women better than old ones?" + +Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, laid his hand on +the palings, vaulted over, and followed Reginald. + +"That's your _boy,"_ said Mrs. Bassett. + +Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp. + +"What is the matter, darling?" + +"The fighting--the blood"--said Ruperta, sobbing. + +Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed her. + +When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, they rather enjoyed +the thing, especially Ruperta: she detested Reginald for his character, +and for having insulted her father. + +All of a sudden, she cried out, "He has taken my handkerchief. How dare +he?" And she affected anger. + +"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, "we have got his +tippet." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +COULD any one have looked through the keyhole at Lady Bassett waiting +for Reginald, he would have seen, by the very movements of her body, +the terrible agitation of the mind. She rose--she sat down--she walked +about with wild energy--she dropped on the sofa, and appeared to give +it up as impossible; but ere long that deadly languor gave way to +impatient restlessness again. + +At last her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, accompanied by +no rustle of petticoats, and yet the footstep was not Compton's. + +Instantly she glanced with momentary terror toward the door. + +There was a tap. + +She sat down, and said, with a tone from which all agitation was +instantly banished, "Come in." + +The door opened, and the swarthy Reginald, diabolically handsome, with +his black snaky curls, entered the room. + +She rose from her chair, and fixed her great eyes on him, as if she +would read him soul and body before she ventured to speak. + +"Here I am, mamma: sorry to see you look so ill." + +"Thank you, my dear," said Lady Bassett, without relaxing for a moment +that searching gaze. + +She said, still covering him with her eye, "Would you cure me if you +could?" + +To appreciate this opening, and Lady Bassett's sweet engaging manner, +you must understand that this young man was, in her eyes, a sort of +black snake. Her flesh crept, with fear and repugnance, at the sight of +him. Yet that is how she received him, being a mother defending her +favorite son. + +"Of course I would," said Reginald. "Just you tell me how." + +Excellent words. But the lady's calm infallible eye saw a cunning +twinkle in those black twinkling orbs. Young as he was, he was on his +guard, and waiting for her. Nor was this surprising: Reginald, +naturally intelligent, had accumulated a large stock of low cunning in +his travels and adventures with the gypsies, a smooth and cunning +people. Lady Bassett's fainting upon his return, his exclusion from her +room, and one or two minor circumstances, had set him thinking. + +The moment she saw that look, Lady Bassett, with swift tact, glided +away from the line she had intended to open, and, after merely thanking +him, and saying, "I believe you, dear," though she did not believe him, +she resumed, in a very impressive tone, "You see me worse than ever +to-day, because my mind is in great trouble. The time is come when I +must tell you a secret, which will cause you a bitter disappointment. +Why I send for you is, to see whether I cannot do something for you to +make you happy, in spite of that cruel disappointment." + +Not a word from Reginald. + +"Mr. Bassett--forgive me, if you can--for I am the most miserable woman +in England--you are not the heir to this place; you are not Sir Charles +Bassett's son." + +"What!" shouted the young man. + +Her fortitude gave way for a moment. She shook her head, in +confirmation of what she had said, and hid her burning face and +scalding tears in her white and wasted hands. + +There was a long silence. + +Reginald was asking himself if this could be true, or was it a maneuver +to put her favorite Compton over his head. + +Lady Bassett looked up, and saw this paltry suspicion in his face. She +dried her tears directly, and went to a bureau, unlocked it, and +produced the manuscript confession she had prepared for her husband. + +She bade Reginald observe the superscription and the date. + +When he had done so, she took her scissors and opened it for him. + +"Read what I wrote to my beloved husband at a time when I expected soon +to appear before my Judge." + +She then sank upon the sofa, and lay there like a log; only, from time +to time, during the long reading, tears trickled from her eyes. + +Reginald read the whole story, and saw the facts must be true: more +than that, being young, and a man, he could not entirely resist the +charm of a narrative in which a lady told at full the love, the grief, +the terror, the sufferings, of her heart, and the terrible temptation +under which she had gone astray. + +He laid it down at last, and drew a long breath. + +"It's a devil of a job for _me,"_ said he; "but I can't blame you. You +sold that Dick Bassett, and I hate him. But what is to become of _me?"_ + +"What I offer you is a life in which you will be happier than you ever +could be at Huntercombe. I mean to buy you vast pasture-fields in +Australia, and cattle to feed. Those noble pastures will be bounded +only by wild forests and hills. You will have swift horses to ride over +your own domain, or to gallop hundreds of miles at a stretch, if you +like. No confinement there; no fences and boundaries; all as free as +air. No monotony: one week you can dig for gold, another you can ride +among your flocks, another you can hunt. All this in a climate so +delightful that you can lie all night in the open air, without a +blanket, under a new firmament of stars, not one of which illumines the +dull nights of Europe." + +The bait was too tempting. "Well, you _are_ the right sort," cried +Reginald. + +But presently he began to doubt. "But all that will cost a lot of +money." + +"It will, but I have a great deal of money." + +Reginald thought, and said, suspiciously, "I don't know why you should +do all this for me." + +"Do you not? What! when I have brought you into this family, and +encouraged you in such vast expectations, could I, in honor and common +humanity, let you fall into poverty and neglect? No. I have many +thousand pounds, all my own, and you will have them all, and perhaps +waste them all; but it will take you some time, because, while you are +wasting, I shall be saving more for you." + +Then there was a pause, each waiting for the other. + +Then Lady Bassett said, quietly, and with great apparent composure, "Of +course there is a condition attached to all this." + +"What is that?" + +"I must receive from you a written paper, signed by yourself and by +Mrs. Meyrick, acknowledging that you are not Sir Charles's son, but +distinctly pledging yourself to keep the secret so long as I continue +to furnish you with the means of living. You hesitate. Is it not fair?" + +"Well, it looks fair; but it is an awkward thing, signing a paper of +that sort." + +"You doubt me, sir; you think that, because I have told one great +falsehood, from good but erring motives, I may break faith with you. Do +not insult me with these doubts, sir. Try and understand that there are +ladies and gentlemen in the world, though you prefer gypsies. Have you +forgotten that night when you laid me under so deep a debt, and I told +you I never would forget it? From that day was I not always your +friend? was I not always the one to make excuses for you?" + +Reginald assented to that. + +"Then trust me. I pledge you my honor that I am this day the best +friend you ever had, or ever can have. Refuse to sign that paper, and I +shall soon be in my grave, leaving behind me my confession, and other +evidence, on which you will be dismissed from this house with ignominy, +and without a farthing; for your best friend will be dead, and you will +have killed her." + +He looked at her full: he said, with a shade of compunction, "I am not +a gentleman, but you are a lady. I'll trust you. I'll sign anything you +like." + +"That confidence becomes you," said Lady Bassett; "and now I have no +objection to show you I deserve it. Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, by +which you may learn I have already placed three thousand pounds to his +account, to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where he +has many confidential friends; and this is a check for five hundred +pounds I drew in your favor yesterday. Do me the favor to take it." + +He did her that favor with sparkling eyes. + +"Now here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your signature will be +of little value to me without Mary Meyrick's." + +"Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her." + +"Are you sure? Men can be brought to take a dispassionate view of their +own interest, but women are not so wise. Take it, and try her. If she +refuses, bring her to me _directly._ Do you understand? Otherwise, in +one fatal hour, her tongue will ruin _you,_ and destroy me." + +Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. Meyrick, and told +her, in an off-hand way, she must sign that paper directly. + +She looked at it and turned very white, but went on her guard directly. + +"Sign such a wicked lie as that!" said she. "That I never will. You +_are_ his son, and Huntercombe shall be yours. She is an unnatural +mother." + +"Gammon!" said Reginald. "You might as well say a fox is the son of a +gander. Come now; I am not going to let you cut my throat with your +tongue. Sign at once, or else come to her this moment and tell her so." + +"That I will," said Mary Meyrick, "and give her my mind." + + + +This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she cast eyes upon +Lady Bassett, and saw how wan and worn she looked. + +She moderated her violence, and said, sullenly, "Sorry to gainsay +_you,_ my lady, and you so ill, but this is a paper I never can sign. +It would rob him of Huntercombe. I'd sooner cut my hand off at the +wrist." + +"Nonsense, Mary!" said Lady Bassett, contemptuously. + +She then proceeded to reason with her, but it was no use. Mary would +not listen to reason, and defied her at last in a loud voice. + +"Very well," said Lady Bassett. "Then since you will not do it my way, +it shall be done another way. I shall put my confession in Sir +Charles's hands, and insist on his dismissing him from the house, and +you from your farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended for +Reginald I shall leave to Compton." + +"These are idle words, my lady. You daren't." + +"I dare anything when once I make up my mind to die." + +She rang the bell. + +Mary Meyrick affected contempt. + +A servant came to the door. + +"Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +"DON'T you be a fool," said Reginald to his nurse. + +"Sir Charles will send you to prison for it," said Lady Bassett. + +"For what I done along with you?" + +"Oh, he will not punish his wife; he will look out for some other +victim." + +"Sign, you d--d old fool!" cried Reginald, seizing Mary Meyrick roughly +by the arm. + +Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of majestic +horror. She held up her hand, and said, "Do not dare to lay a finger on +her!" + +Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign the paper. + +While she was signing it, Sir Charles's step was heard in the corridor. + +He knocked at the door just as she signed. Reginald had signed already. + +Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, and the book into +the bureau, and said "Come in," with an appearance of composure belied +by her beating heart. + +"Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear." + +In those few seconds so perfect a liar as Mary Meyrick had quite +recovered herself. + +"If you please, sir," said she, "I be come to ast if you will give us a +new lease, for ourn it is run out." + +"You had better talk to the steward about that." + +"Very well, sir," and she made her courtesy. + +Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do. + +"My dear," said Lady Bassett, "Reginald has come to bid us good-by. He +is going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and take his advice, if you have no +objection." + +"None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with more respect than he +does mine." + +Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, when Lady Bassett +said, "Won't you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away?" + +He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his ear, "Be true to +me, as I will be to you." + +Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with exhaustion. She +lay on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat beside her, and made her drink a +glass of wine. + +She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she slept: a load was +off her mind for the present. + +Next day she was so much better she came down to dinner. + +What she now hoped was, that entire separation, coupled with the memory +of the boy's misdeeds, would cure Sir Charles entirely of his affection +for Reginald; and so that, after about twenty years more of conjugal +fidelity, she might find courage to reveal to her husband the fault of +her youth at a time when all its good results remained to help excuse +it, and all its bad results had vanished. + +Such was the plan this extraordinary woman conceived, and its success +so far had a wonderful effect on her health. + +But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear either from Reginald +or Mr. Rolfe. That made her a little anxious. + +On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry flush on his brow, +whether she had not sent Reginald up to London. + +"Yes, dear," said Lady Bassett. + +"Well, he is not gone, then." + +"Oh!" + +"He is living at his nurse's. I saw him talking to an old gypsy that +lives on the farm." + +Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing. + +"Never mind, mamma," said Compton. "Your other children must love you +all the more." + +This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. She divined bad +faith and all manner of treachery, none the less terrible for being +vague. + +Down went her health again and her short-lived repose. + +Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm on a little +business of his own. + +He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, and was waiting +for a dark and gusty night. + +He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, spite and greed, +especially the latter. He would never have undertaken it with a 500 +pound check in his pocket; but some minds are so constituted they +cannot forego a bad design once formed: so Mr. Reginald persisted, +though one great motive existed no longer. + +On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him. + +The night was favorable, and at about two o'clock Reginald and the +foreign gent stood under Richard Bassett's dining-room window, with +crape over their eyes, noses and mouths, and all manner of unlawful +implements in their pockets. + +The foreign gent prized the shutters open with a little crowbar; he +then, with a glazier's diamond, soon cut out a small pane, inserted a +cunning hand and opened the window. + +Then Reginald gave him a leg, and he got into the room. + +The agile youth followed him without assistance. + +They lighted a sort of bull's-eye, and poured the concentrated light on +the cupboard door, behind which lay the treasure of glorious old plate. + +Then the foreign gent produced his skeleton keys, and after several +ineffective trials, opened the door softly and revealed the glittering +booty. + +At sight of it the foreign gent could not suppress an ejaculation, but +the younger one clapped his hand before his mouth hurriedly. + +The foreign gent unrolled a sort of green baize apron he had round him; +it was, in reality, a bag. + +Into this receptacle the pair conveyed one piece of plate after another +with surprising dexterity, rapidity, and noiseless-ness. When it was +full, they began to fill the deep pockets of their shooting-jackets. + +While thus employed, they heard a rapid footstep, and Richard Bassett +opened the door. He was in his trousers and shirt, and had a pistol in +his hand. + +At sight of him Reginald uttered a cry of dismay; the foreign gent blew +out the light. + +Richard Bassett, among whose faults want of personal courage was not +one, rushed forward and collared Reginald. + +But the foreign gent had raised the crowbar to defend himself, and +struck him a blow on the head that made him stagger back. + +The foreign gent seized this opportunity, and ran at once at the window +and jumped at it. + +If Reginald had been first, he would have gone through like a cat, but +the foreign gent, older, and obstructed by the contents of his pocket, +higgled and stuck a few seconds in the window. + +That brief delay was fatal; Richard Bassett leveled his pistol +deliberately at him, fired, and sent a ball through his shoulder; he +fell like a log upon the ground outside. + +Richard then leveled another barrel at Reginald, but he howled out for +quarter, and was immediately captured, and with the assistance of the +brave Jessie, who now came boldly to her master's aid, his hands were +tied behind him and he was made prisoner, with the stolen articles in +his pocket. + +When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said it was only a lark; he +never meant to keep anything. He offered a hundred pounds down if they +would let him off. + +But there was no mercy for him. + +Richard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected the prisoner. He +lifted his crape veil, and said "Oho!" + +"You see it was only a lark," said Reginald, and shook in every limb. + +Richard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He gave Jessie strict +orders to hold her tongue, and she and he between them took Reginald +and locked him up in a small room adjoining the kitchen. + +They then went to look for the other burglar. + +He had emptied his pockets of all the plate, and crawled away. It is +supposed he threw away the plate, either to soften Reginald's offense, +or in the belief that he had received his death wound, and should not +require silver vessels where he was going. + +Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, and told Jessie to +light the fire and make him a cup of coffee. + +He replaced all the plate, except the articles left in Reginald's +pocket. + +Then he went upstairs, and told his wife that burglars had broken into +the house, but had taken nothing; she was to give herself no anxiety. +He told her no more than this, for his dark and cruel nature had +already conceived an idea he did not care to communicate to her, on +account of the strong opposition he foresaw from so good a Christian: +besides, of late, since her daughter came home to back her, she had +spoken her mind more than once. + +He kept them then in the dark, and went downstairs again to his coffee. + +He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. + +All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from Huntercombe +returned to his mind; and now, with one masterstroke he would balance +them all. + +Yet he felt a little compunction. + +Active hostilities had ceased for many years. + +Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to his wife. The +blow he meditated was very cruel: would not his wife and daughter say +it was barbarous? Would not his own heart, the heart of a father, +reproach him afterward? + +These misgivings, that would have restrained a less obstinate man, +irritated Richard Bassett: he went into a rage, and said aloud, "I must +do it: I will do it, come what may." + +He told Jessie he valued her much: she should have a black silk gown +for her courage and fidelity; but she must not be faithful by halves. +She must not breathe one word to any soul in the house that the burglar +was there under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her out of the +house that moment. + +"Hets!" said the woman, "der ye think I canna haud my whist, when the +maister bids me? I'm nae great clasher at ony time, for my pairt." + +At seven o'clock in the morning he sent a note to Sir Charles Bassett, +to say that his house had been attacked last night by two armed +burglars; he and his people had captured one, and wished to take him +before a magistrate at once, since his house was not a fit place to +hold him secure. He concluded Sir Charles would not refuse him the +benefit of the law, however obnoxious he might be. + +Sir Charles's lips curled with contempt at the man who was not ashamed +to put such a doubt on paper. + +However, he wrote back a civil line, to say that of course he was at +Mr. Bassett's service, and would be in his justice-room at nine +o'clock. + +Meantime, Mr. Richard Bassett went for the constable and an assistant; +but, even to them, he would not say precisely what he wanted them for. + +His plan was to march an unknown burglar, with his crape on his face, +into Sir Charles's study, give his evidence, and then reveal the son to +the father. + +Jessie managed to hold her tongue for an hour or two, and nothing +occurred at Highmore or in Huntercombe to interfere with Richard +Bassett's barbarous revenge. + +Meantime, however, something remarkable had occurred at the distance of +a mile and a quarter. + +Mrs. Meyrick breakfasted habitually at eight o'clock. + +Reginald did not appear. + +Mrs. Meyrick went to his room, and satisfied herself he had not passed +the night there. + +Then she went to the foreign gent's shed. + +He was not there. + +Then she went out, and called loudly to them both. + +No answer. + +Then she went into the nearest meadow, to see if they were in sight. + +The first thing she saw was the foreign gent staggering toward her. + +"Drunk!" said she, and went to scold him; but, when she got nearer, she +saw at once that something very serious had happened. His dark face was +bloodless and awful, and he could hardly drag his limbs along; indeed +they had failed him a score of times between Highmore and that place. + +Just as she came up with him he sank once more to the ground, and +turned up two despairing eyes toward her. + +"Oh, daddy! what is it? Where's Reginald? Whatever have they done to +you?" + +"Brandy!" groaned the wounded man. + +She flew into the house, and returned in a moment with a bottle. She +put it to his lips. + +He revived and told her all, in a few words. + +"The young bloke and I went to crack a crib. I'm shot with a bullet. +Hide me in that loose hay there; leave me the bottle, and let nobody +come nigh me. The beak will be after me very soon." + +Then Mrs. Meyrick, being a very strong woman, dragged him to the +haystack, and covered him with loose hay. + +"Now," said she, trembling, "where's my boy?" + +"He's nabbed." + +"Oh!" + +"And he'll be lagged, unless you can beg him off." + +Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream. + +"You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him with five hundred pounds +in his pocket, and my lady's favor. Oh, why did we not keep our word +with her? She was the wisest, and our best friend. But it is all your +doing; you are the devil that tempted him, you old villain!" + +"Don't miscall me," said the gypsy. + +"Not miscall you, when you have run away, and left them to take my boy +to jail! No word is bad enough for you, you villain!" + +_"I'm your father--and a dying man,"_ said the old gypsy, calmly, and +folded his hands upon his breast with Oriental composure and decency. + +The woman threw herself on her knees. + +"Forgive me, father--tell me, where is he?" + +"Highmore House." + +At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild horror, she uttered a +loud scream, and flew into the house. + +In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore. + +She reached that house, knocked hastily at the door, and said she must +see Mr. Richard Bassett that moment. + +"He is just gone out," said the maid. + +"Where to?" + +The girl knew her, and began to gossip. "Why, to Huntercombe Hall. +What! haven't you heard, Mrs. Meyrick? Master caught a robber last +night. Laws! you should have seen him: he have got crape all over his +face; and master, and the constable, and Mr. Musters, they be all gone +with him to Sir Charles, for to have him committed--the villain! Why, +what ails the woman?" + +For Mary Meyrick turned her back on the speaker, and rushed away in a +moment. + +She went through the kitchen at Huntercombe: she was so well known +there, nobody objected: she flew up the stairs, and into Lady Bassett's +bedroom. "Oh, my lady! my lady!" + +Lady Bassett screamed, at her sudden entrance and wild appearance. + +Mary Meyrick told her all in a few wild words. She wrung her hands with +a great fear. + +"It's no time for that," cried Mary, fiercely. "Come down this moment, +and save him." + +"How can I?" + +"You must! You shall!" cried the other. "Don't ask me how. Don't sit +wringing your hands, woman. If you are not there in five minutes to +save him, I'll tell all." + +"Have mercy on me!" cried Lady Bassett. "I gave him money, I sent him +away. It's not my fault." + +"No matter; he must be saved, or I'll ruin you. I can't stay here: I +must be there, and so must you." + +She rushed down the stairs, and tried to get into the justice-room, but +admission was refused her. + +Then she gave a sort of wild snarl, and ran round to the small room +adjoining the justice-room. Through this she penetrated, and entered +the justice-room, but not in time to prevent the evidence from being +laid before Sir Charles. + +What took place in the meantime was briefly this: The prisoner, +handcuffed now instead of tied, was introduced between the constable +and his assistant; the door was locked, and Sir Charles received Mr. +Bassett with a ceremonious bow, seated himself, and begged Mr. Bassett +to be seated. + +"Thank you," said Mr. Bassett, but did not seat himself. He stood +before the prisoner and gave his evidence; during which the prisoner's +knees were seen to knock together with terror: he was a young man fit +for folly, but not for felony. + +Said Richard Bassett, "I have a cupboard containing family plate. It is +valuable, and some years ago I passed a piece of catgut from the door +through the ceiling to a bell at my bedside. + +"Very late last night the bell sounded. I flung on my trousers, and +went down with a pistol. I caught two burglars in the act of rifling +the cupboard. I went to collar one; he struck me on the head with a +crowbar--constable, show the crowbar--I staggered, but recovered +myself, and fired at one of the burglars: he was just struggling +through the window. He fell, and I thought he was dead, but he got +away. I secured the other, and here he is--just as he was when I took +him. Constable, search his pockets." + +The constable did so, and produced therefrom several pieces of silver +plate stamped with the Bassett arms. + +"My servant here can confirm this," added Mr. Bassett. + +"It is not necessary here," said Sir Charles. Then to the criminal, +"Have you anything to say?" + +"It was only a lark," quavered the poor wretch. + +"I would not advise you to say that where you are going." + +He then, while writing out the warrant, said, as a matter of course, +"Remove his mask." + +The constable lifted it, and started back with a shout of dismay and +surprise: Jessie screamed. + +Sir Charles looked up, and saw in the burglar he was committing for +trial his first-born, the heir to his house and his lands. + +The pen fell from Sir Charles's fingers, and he stared at the wan face, +and wild, imploring eyes that stared at him. + +He stared at the lad, and then put his hand to his heart, and that +heart seemed to die within him. + +There was a silence, and a horror fell on all. Even Richard Bassett +quailed at what he had done. + +"Ah! cruel man! cruel man!" moaned the broken father. "God judge you +for this--as now I must judge my unhappy son. Mr. Bassett, it matters +little to you what magistrate commits you, and I must keep my oath. I +am--going--to set you an--example, by signing a warrant--" + +"No, no, no!" cried a woman's voice, and Mary Meyrick rushed into the +room. + +Every person there thought he knew Mary Meyrick; yet she was like a +stranger to them now. There was that in her heart at that awful moment +which transfigured a handsome but vulgar woman into a superior being. +Her cheek was pale, her black eyes large, and her mellow voice had a +magic power. "You don't know what you are doing!" she cried. "Go no +farther, or you will all curse the hand that harmed a hair of his head; +you, most of all, Richard Bassett." + +Sir Charles, in any other case, would have sent her out of the room; +but, in his misery, he caught at the straw. + +"Speak out, woman," he said, "and save the wretched boy, if you can. I +see no way." + +"There are things it is not fit to speak before all the world. Bid +those men go, and I'll open your eyes that stay." + +Then Richard Bassett foresaw another triumph, so he told the constable +and his man they had better retire for a few minutes, "while," said he, +with a sneer, "these wonderful revelations are being made." + +When they were gone, Mary turned to Richard Bassett, and said "Why do +you want him sent to prison?--to spite Sir Charles here, to stab his +heart through his son." + +Sir Charles groaned aloud. + +The woman heard, and thought of many things. She flung herself on her +knees, and seized his hand. "Don't you cry, my dear old master; mine is +the only heart shall bleed. HE IS NOT YOUR SON." + +"What!" cried Sir Charles, in a terrible voice. + +"That is no news to me," said Richard. "He is more like the parson than +Sir Charles Bassett." + +"For shame! for shame!" cried Mary Meyrick. "Oh, it becomes you to give +fathers to children when you don't know your own flesh and blood! He is +YOUR SON, RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +_"My_ son!" roared Bassett, in utter amazement. + +"Ay. I should know; FOR I AM HIS MOTHER." + +This astounding statement was uttered with all the majesty of truth, +and when she said "I am his mother," the voice turned tender all in a +moment. + +They were all paralyzed; and, absorbed in this strange revelation, did +not hear a tottering footstep: a woman, pale as a corpse, and with eyes +glaring large, stood among them, all in a moment, as if a ghost had +risen from the earth. + +It was Lady Bassett. + +At sight of her, Sir Charles awoke from the confusion and amazement +into which Mary had thrown him, and said, "Ah--! Bella, do you hear +what she says, that he is not our son? What, then, have you agreed with +your servant to deceive your husband?" + +Lady Bassett gasped, and tried to speak; but before the words would +come, the sight of her corpse-like face and miserable agony moved Mary +Wells, and she snatched the words out of her mouth. + +"What is the use of questioning _her?_ She knows no more than you do. I +done it all; and done it for the best. My lady's child died; I hid that +from her; for I knew it would kill her, and keep you in a mad-house. I +done for the best: I put my live child by her side, and she knew no +better. As time went on, and the boy so dark, she suspected; but know +it she couldn't till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there stands +his cruel father; cruel to me, and cruel to him. But don't you dare to +harm him; I've got all your letters, promising me marriage; I'll take +them to your wife and daughter, and they shall know it is your own +flesh and blood you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to threaten +him! my darling, speak him fair; he is your father; he may have a bit +of nature in his heart somewhere, though I could never find it." + +The young man put his hands together, like an Oriental, and said, +"Forgive me," then sank at Richard Bassett's knees. + +Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife's arm and led her, +trembling like an aspen leaf, from the room. + +Perhaps the prayers of Reginald and the tears of his mother would alone +have sufficed to soften Richard Bassett, but the threat of exposure to +his wife and daughter did no harm. The three soon came to terms. + +Reginald to be liberated on condition of going to London by the next +train, and never setting his foot in that parish again. His mother to +go with him, and see him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herself +not to reveal the boy's real parentage to any other soul in the world. + +This being settled, Richard Bassett called the constable in, and said +the young gentleman had satisfied him that it was a practical joke, +though a very dangerous one, and he withdrew the charge of felony. + +The constable said he must have Sir Charles's authority for that. + +A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released, +and Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, "Out of my +hands you go no more." + +Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himself, +said, with deep feeling, "My poor boy, you can never be a stranger to +me. The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment. You see now +how folly glides into crime, and crime into punishment. Take this to +heart, and never again stray from the paths of honor. Lead an honorable +life; and, if you do, write to me as if I was still your father." + +They retired, but Richard Bassett lingered, and hung his head. + +Sir Charles wondered what this inveterate foe could have to say now. + +At last Richard said, half sullenly, yet with a touch of compunction, +"Sir Charles, you have been more generous than I was. You have laid me +under an obligation." + +Sir Charles bowed loftily. + +"You would double that obligation if you would prevail on Lady Bassett +to keep that old folly of mine secret from my wife and daughter. I am +truly ashamed of it; and, whatever my faults may have been, they love +and respect me." + +"Mr. Bassett," said Sir Charles, "my son Compton must be told that he +is my heir; but no details injurious to you shall transpire: you may +count on absolute secrecy from Lady Bassett and myself." + +"Sir Charles," said Richard Bassett, faltering for a moment, "I am very +much obliged to you, and I begin to be sorry we are enemies. +Good-morning." + +The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed Lady Bassett on +the spot. She lay all that day in a state of utter prostration. + +Meantime Sir Charles put this and that together, but said nothing. He +spoke cheerfully and philosophically to his wife--said it had been a +fearful blow, terrible wrench: but it was all for the best; such a son +as that would have broken his heart before long. + +"Ah, but your wasted affections!" groaned Lady Bassett; and her tears +streamed at the thought. + +Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while, "Is affection ever +entirely wasted? My love for that young fool enlarged my heart. There +was a time he did me a deal of good." + +But next day, having only herself to think of now, Lady Bassett could +live no longer under the load of deceit. She told Sir Charles Mary +Meyrick had deceived him. "Read this," she said, "and see what your +miserable wife has done, who loved you to madness and crime." + +Sir Charles looked at her, and saw in her wasted form and her face +that, if he did read it, he should kill her; so he played the man: he +restrained himself by a mighty effort, and said, "My dear, excuse me; +but on this matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick's exactness than +in yours. Besides, I know your heart, and don't care to be told of your +errors in judgment, no, not even by yourself. Sorry to offend an +authoress; but I decline to read your book, and, more than that, I +forbid you the subject entirely for the next thirty years, at least. +Let by-gones be by-gones." + + + +That eventful morning Mr. Rutland called and proposed to Ruperta. She +declined politely, but firmly. + +She told Mrs. Bassett, and Mrs. Bassett told Richard in a nervous way, +but his answer surprised her. He said he was very glad of it; Ruperta +could do better. + +Mrs. Bassett could not resist the pleasure of telling Lady Bassett. She +went over on purpose, with her husband's consent. + +Lady Bassett asked to see Ruperta. "By all means," said Richard +Bassett, graciously. + +On her return to Highmore, Ruperta asked leave to go to the Hall every +day and nurse Lady Bassett. "They will let her die else," said she. +Richard Bassett assented to that, too. Ruperta, for some weeks, almost +lived at the Hall, and in this emergency revealed great qualities. As +the malevolent small-pox, passing through the gentle cow, comes out the +sovereign cow-pox, so, in this gracious nature, her father's vices +turned to their kindred virtues; his obstinacy of purpose shone here a +noble constancy; his audacity became candor, and his cunning wisdom. +Her intelligence saw at once that Lady Bassett was pining to death, and +a weak-minded nurse would be fatal: she was all smiles and brightness, +and neglected no means to encourage the patient. + +With this view, she promised to plight her faith to Compton the moment +Lady Bassett should be restored to health; and so, with hopes and +smiles, and the novelty of a daughter's love, she fought with death for +Lady Bassett, and at last she won the desperate battle. + +This did Richard Bassett's daughter for her father's late enemy. + +The grateful husband wrote to Bassett, and now acknowledged _his_ +obligation. + +A civil, mock-modest reply from Richard Bassett. + +From this things went on step by step, till at last Compton and +Ruperta, at eighteen years of age, were formally betrothed. + +Thus the children's love wore out the father's hate. + +That love, so troubled at the outset, left, by degrees, the region of +romance, and rippled smoothly through green, flowery meadows. + +Ruperta showed her lover one more phase of girlhood; she, who had been +a precocious and forward child, and then a shy and silent girl, came +out now a bright and witty young woman, full of vivacity, modesty, and +sensibility. Time cured Compton of his one defect. Ruperta stopped +growing at fifteen, but Compton went slowly on; caught her at +seventeen, and at nineteen had passed her by a head. He won a +scholarship at Oxford, he rowed in college races, and at last in the +University race on the Thames. + +Ruperta stood, in peerless beauty, dark blue from throat to feet, and +saw his boat astern of his rival, saw it come up with, and creep ahead, +amid the roars of the multitude. When she saw her lover, with bare +corded arms, as brown as a berry, and set teeth, filling his glorious +part in that manly struggle within eight yards of her, she confessed he +was not a boy now. + +But Lady Bassett accepted no such evidence: being pestered to let them +marry at twenty years of age, she clogged her consent with one +condition--they must live three years at Huntercombe as man and wife. + +"No boy of twenty," said she, "can understand a young woman of that +age. I must be in the house to prevent a single misunderstanding +between my beloved children." + +The young people, who both adored her, voted the condition reasonable. +They were married, and a wing of the spacious building allotted to +them. + +For their sakes let us hope that their wedded life, now happily +commenced, will furnish me no materials for another tale: the happiest +lives are uneventful. + +The foreign gent recovered his wound, but acquired rheumatism and a +dislike for midnight expeditions. + +Reginald galloped a year or two over seven hundred miles of colony, +sowing his wild oats as he flew, but is now a prosperous squatter, very +fond of sleeping in the open air. England was not big enough for the +bold Bohemian. He does very well where he is. + +Old Meyrick died, and left his wife a little estate in the next county. +Drake asked her hand at the funeral. She married him in six months, and +migrated to the estate in question; for Sir Charles refused her a lease +of his farm, not choosing to have her near him. + +Her new abode was in the next parish to her sister's. + +La Marsh set herself to convert Mary, and often exhorted her to +penitence; she bore this pretty well for some time, being overawed by +old reminiscences of sisterly superiority: but at last her vanity +rebelled. "Repent! and Repent!" cried she. "Why you be like a cuckoo, +all in one song. One would think I had been and robbed a church. 'Tis +all very well for you to repent, as led a fastish life at starting: +_but I never done nothing as I'm ashamed on."_ + + + +Richard Bassett said one day to Wheeler, "Old fellow, there is not a +worse poison than Hate. It has made me old before my time. And what +does it all come to? We might just as well have kept quiet; for my +grandson will inherit Huntercombe and Bassett, after all--" + +"Thanks to the girl you would not ring the bells for." + + + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett lead a peaceful life after all their +troubles, and renew their youth in their children, of whom Ruperta is +one, and as dear as any. + +Yet there is a pensive and humble air about Lady Bassett, which shows +she still expiates her fault, though she knows it will always be +ignored by him for whose sake she sinned. + +In summing her up, it may be as well to compare this with the unmixed +self-complacency of Mrs. Drake. + +You men and women, who judge this Bella Bassett, be firm, and do not +let her amiable qualities or her good intentions blind you in a plain +matter of right and wrong: be charitable, and ask yourselves how often +in your lives you have seen yourselves, or any other human being, +resist a terrible temptation. + +My experience is, that we resist other people's temptations nobly, and +succumb to our own. + +So let me end with a line of England's gentlest satirist-- + +"Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be." + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Terrible Temptation, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + +***** This file should be named 7895.txt or 7895.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/9/7895/ + +Produced by James Rusk + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: A Terrible Temptation + A Story of To-Day + +Author: Charles Reade + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7895] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on May 31, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk + + + + +A Terrible Temptation + +A Story of To-Day + +by + +Charles Reade + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, London. + +A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow on the broad +mantel-piece, and made himself agreeable to a young lady, seated a +little way off, playing at work. + +To the ear he was only conversing, but his eyes dwelt on her with +loving admiration all the time. Her posture was favorable to this +furtive inspection, for she leaned her fair head over her work with a +pretty, modest, demure air, that seemed to say, "I suspect I am being +admired: I will not look to see: I might have to check it." + +The gentleman's features were ordinary, except his brow--that had power +in it--but he had the beauty of color; his sunburned features glowed +with health, and his eye was bright. On the whole, rather good-looking +when he smiled, but ugly when he frowned; for his frown was a scowl, +and betrayed a remarkable power of hating. + +Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious masses of dark red +hair, and a dazzling white neck to set it off; large, dove-like eyes, +and a blooming oval face, which would have been classical if her lips +had been thin and finely chiseled; but here came in her Anglo-Saxon +breed, and spared society a Minerva by giving her two full and rosy +lips. They made a smallish mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide when +they smiled, and ravished the beholder with long, even rows of dazzling +white teeth. + +Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all commanding. There +are people whose very bodies express character; and this tall, supple, +graceful frame of Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did her +gestures. She would take up or put down her own scissors half timidly, +and look around before threading her needle, as if to see whether any +soul objected. Her favorite word was "May I?" with a stress on the +"May," and she used it where most girls would say "I will," or nothing, +and do it. + +Mr. Richard Bassett was in love with her, and also conscious that her +fifteen thousand pounds would be a fine addition to his present income, +which was small, though his distant expectations were great. As he had +known her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable than +inflammable, he had the prudence to proceed by degrees; and that is +why, though his eyes gloated on her, he merely regaled her with the +gossip of the day, not worth recording here. But when he had actually +taken his hat to go, Bella Bruce put him a question that had been on +her mind the whole time, for which reason she had reserved it to the +very last moment. + +"Is Sir Charles Bassett in town?" said she, mighty carelessly, but +bending a little lower over her embroidery. + +"Don't know," said Richard Bassett, with such a sudden brevity and +asperity that Miss Bruce looked up and opened her lovely eyes. Mr. +Richard Bassett replied to this mute inquiry, "We don't speak." Then, +after a pause, "He has robbed me of my inheritance." + +"Oh, Mr. Bassett!" + +"Yes, Miss Bruce, the Bassett and Huntercombe estates were mine by +right of birth. My father was the eldest son, and they were entailed on +him. But Sir Charles's father persuaded my old, doting grandfather to +cut off the entail, and settle the estates on him and his heirs; and so +they robbed me of every acre they could. Luckily my little estate of +Highmore was settled on my mother and her issue too tight for the +villains to undo." + +These harsh expressions, applied to his own kin, and the abruptness and +heat they were uttered with, surprised and repelled his gentle +listener. She shrank a little away from him. He observed it. She +replied not to his words, but to her own thought: + +"But, after all, it does seem hard." She added, with a little fervor, +"But it wasn't poor Sir Charles's doing, after all." + +"He is content to reap the benefit," said Richard Bassett, sternly. + +Then, finding he was making a sorry impression, he tried to get away +from the subject. I say tried, for till a man can double like a hare he +will never get away from his hobby. "Excuse me," said he; "I ought +never to speak about it. Let us talk of something else. You cannot +enter into my feelings; it makes my blood boil. Oh, Miss Bruce! you +can't conceive what a disinherited man feels--and I live at the very +door: his old trees, that ought to be mine, fling their shadows over my +little flower beds; the sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look down on +my cottage; his acres of lawn run up to my little garden, and nothing +but a ha-ha between us." + +"It _is_ hard," said Miss Bruce, composedly; not that she entered into +a hardship of this vulgar sort, but it was her nature to soothe and +please people. + +"Hard!" cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even this faint sympathy; +"it would be unendurable but for one thing--I shall have my own some +day." + +"I am glad of that," said the lady; "but how?" + +"By outliving the wrongful heir." + +Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of men's passions. +"Oh, Mr. Bassett!" said she--and there was something pure and holy in +the look of sorrow and alarm she cast on the presumptuous +speaker--"pray do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. And +remember life and death are not in our hands. Besides--" + +"Well?"' + +"Sir Charles might--" + +"Well?" + +"Might he not--marry--and have children?" This with more hesitation and +a deeper blush than appeared absolutely necessary. + +"Oh, there's no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never descends. +Charles is a worn-out rake. He was fast at Eton--fast at Oxford--fast +in London. Why, he looks ten years older than I, and he is three years +younger. He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a marrying man. +Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they +are mine--" + +"Sir Charles Bassett!" trumpeted a servant at the door; and then +waited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught +blushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another. + +"Wait a moment," said Miss Bruce to him. Then, discreetly ignoring what +Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she +said, hurriedly: "You should not blame him for the faults of others. +There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am little +entitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends. He is +very good, I assure you, and very nice. Let me reconcile you two. _May_ +I?" + +This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly; and, indeed--if I +may be permitted--in a way to dissolve a bear. + +But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is placable; it was a +man with a hobby grievance; so he replied in character: + +"That is impossible so long as he keeps me out of my own." He had the +grace, however, to add, half sullenly, "Excuse me; I feel I have been +too vehement." + +Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly: + +"Oh, never mind _that;_ it was very natural.--I am at home, then," said +she to the servant. + +Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and said, with no +little agitation, "I was not aware he visits you. One word--don't let +his ill-gotten acres make you quite forget the disinherited one." And +so he left her, with an imploring look. + +She felt red with all this, so she slipped out at another door, to cool +her cheeks and imprison a stray curl for Sir Charles. + +He strolled into the empty room, with the easy, languid air of fashion. +His features were well cut, and had some nobility; but his sickly +complexion and the lines under his eyes told a tale of dissipation. He +appeared ten years older than he was, and thoroughly _blase._ + +Yet when Miss Bruce entered the room with a smile and a little blush, +he brightened up and looked handsome, and greeted her with momentary +warmth. + +After the usual inquiries she asked him if he had met any body. + +"Where?" + +"Here; just now." + +"No." + +"What, nobody at all?" + +"Only my sulky cousin; I don't call him anybody," drawled Sir Charles, +who was now relapsing into his normal condition of semi-apathy. + +"Oh," said Miss Bruce gayly, "you must expect him to be a little cross. +It is not so very nice to be disinherited, let me tell you." + +"And who has disinherited the fellow?" + +"I forget; but you disinherited him among you. Never mind; it can't be +helped now. When did you come back to town? I didn't see you at Lady +d'Arcy's ball, did I?" + +"You did not, unfortunately for me; but you would if I had known you +were to be there. But about Richard: he may tell you what he likes, but +he was not disinherited; he was bought out. The fact is, his father was +uncommonly fast. My grandfather paid his debts again and again; but at +last the old gentleman found he was dealing with the Jews for his +reversion. Then there was an awful row. It ended in my grandfather +outbidding the Jews. He bought the reversion of his estate from his own +son for a large sum of money (he had to raise it by mortgages); then +they cut off the entail between them, and he entailed the mortgaged +estate on his other son, and his grandson (that was me), and on my +heir-at-law. Richard's father squandered his thirty thousand pounds +before he died; my father husbanded the estates, got into Parliament, +and they put a tail to his name." + +Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a languid +composure that contrasted deliciously with Richard's heat in telling +the story his way (to be sure, Sir Charles had got Huntercombe and +Bassett, and it is easier to be philosophical on the right side of the +boundary hedge), and wound up with a sort of corollary: "Dick Bassett +suffers by his father's vices, and I profit by mine's virtues. Where's +the injustice?" + +"Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the better." + +Sir Charles demurred. "Oh, I don't want to quarrel with the fellow: but +he is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery estate, all +in broken patches. He shoots my pheasants in the unfairest way." Here +the landed proprietor showed real irritation, but only for a moment. He +concluded calmly, "The fact is, he is not quite a gentleman. Fancy his +coming and whining to you about our family affairs, and then telling +you a falsehood!" + +"No, no; be did not mean. It was his way of looking at things. You can +afford to forgive him." + +"Yes, but not if he sets you against me." + +"But he cannot do that. The more any one was to speak against you, the +more I--of course." + +This admission fired Sir Charles; he drew nearer, and, thanks to his +cousin's interference, spoke the language of love more warmly and +directly than he had ever done before. + +The lady blushed, and defended herself feebly. Sir Charles grew warmer, +and at last elicited from her a timid but tender avowal, that made him +supremely happy. + +When he left her this brief ecstasy was succeeded by regrets on account +of the years he had wasted in follies and intrigues. + +He smoked five cigars, and pondered the difference between the pure +creature who now honored him with her virgin affections and beauties of +a different character who had played their parts in his luxurious life. + +After profound deliberation he sent for his solicitor. They lighted the +inevitable cigars, and the following observations struggled feebly out +along with the smoke. + +"Mr. Oldfield, I'm going to be married." + +"Glad to hear it, Sir Charles." (Vision of settlements.) "It is a high +time you were." (Puff-puff.) + +"Want your advice and assistance first." + +"Certainly." + +"Must put down my pony-carriage now, you know." + +"A very proper retrenchment; but you can do that without my assistance, + +"There would be sure to be a row if I did. I dare say there will be as +it is. At any rate, I want to do the thing like a gentleman." + +"Send 'em to Tattersall's." (Puff.) + +"And the girl that drives them in the park, and draws all the duchesses +and countesses at her tail--am I to send her to Tattersall's?" (Puff.) + +"Oh, it is _her_ you want to put down, then?" + +"Why, of course." + + +CHAPTER II. + +SIR CHARLES and Mr. Oldfield settled that lady's retiring pension, and +Mr. Oldfield took the memoranda home, with instructions to prepare a +draft deed for Miss Somerset's approval. + +Meantime Sir Charles visited Miss Bruce every day. Her affections for +him grew visibly, for being engaged gave her the courage to love. + +Mr. Bassett called pretty often; but one day he met Sir Charles on the +stairs, and scowled. + +That scowl cost him dear, for Sir Charles thereupon represented to +Bella that a man with a grievance is a bore to the very eye, and asked +her to receive no more visits from his scowling cousin. The lady +smiled, and said, with soft complacency, "I obey." + +Sir Charles's gallantry was shocked. + +"No, don't say 'obey.' It is a little favor I ventured to ask." + +"It is like you to ask what you have a right to command. I shall be out +to him in future, and to every one who is disagreeable to you. What! +does 'obey' frighten you from my lips? To me it is the sweetest in the +language. Oh, please let me 'obey' you! _May_ I?" + +Upon this, as vanity is seldom out of call, Sir Charles swelled like a +turkey-cock, and loftily consented to indulge Bella Bruce's strange +propensity. From that hour she was never at home to Mr. Bassett. + +He began to suspect; and one day, after he had been kept out with the +loud, stolid "Not at home" of practiced mendacity, he watched, and saw +Sir Charles admitted. + +He divined it all in a moment, and turned to wormwood. What! was he to +be robbed of the lady he loved--and her fifteen thousand pounds--by the +very man who had robbed him of his ancestral fields? He dwelt on the +double grievance till it nearly frenzied him. But he could do nothing: +it was his fate. His only hope was that Sir Charles, the arrant flirt, +would desert this beauty after a time, as he had the others. + +But one afternoon, in the smoking-room of his club, a gentleman said to +him, "So your cousin Charles is engaged to the Yorkshire beauty, Bell +Bruce?" + +"He is flirting with her, I believe," said Richard. + +"No, no," said the other; "they are engaged. I know it for a fact. They +are to be married next month." + +Mr. Richard Bassett digested this fresh pill in moody silence, while +the gentlemen of the club discussed the engagement with easy levity. +They soon passed to a topic of wider interest, viz., who was to succeed +Sir Charles with La Somerset. Bassett began to listen attentively, and +learned for the first time Sir Charles Bassett's connection with that +lady, and also that she was a woman of a daring nature and furious +temper. At first he was merely surprised; but soon hatred and jealousy +whispered in his ear that with these materials it must be possible to +wound those who had wounded him. + +Mr. Marsh, a young gentleman with a receding chin, and a mustache +between hay and straw, had taken great care to let them all know he was +acquainted with Miss Somerset. So Richard got Marsh alone, and sounded +him. Could he call upon the lady without ceremony? + +"You won't get in. Her street door is jolly well guarded, I can tell +you." + +"I am very curious to see her in her own house." + +"So are a good many fellows." + +"Could you not give me an introduction?" + +Marsh shook his head sapiently for a considerable time, and with all +this shaking, as it appeared, out fell words of wisdom. "Don't see it. +I'm awfully spooney on her myself; and, you know, when a fellow +introduces another fellow, that fellow always cuts the other out." +Then, descending from the words of the wise and their dark sayings to a +petty but pertinent fact, he added, _"Besides,_ I'm only let in myself +about once in five times." + +"She gives herself wonderful airs, it seems," said Bassett, rather +bitterly. + +Marsh fired up. "So would any woman that was as beautiful, and as witty +and as much run after as she is. Why she is a leader of fashion. Look +at all the ladies following her round the park. They used to drive on +the north side of the Serpentine. She just held up her finger, and now +they have cut the Serpentine, and followed her to the south drive." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Bassett. "Ah then this is a great lady; a poor +country squire must not venture into her august presence." He turned +savagely on his heel, and Marsh went and made sickly mirth at his +expense. + +By this means the matter soon came to the ears of old Mr. Woodgate, the +father of that club, and a genial gossip. He got hold of Bassett in the +dinner-room and examined him. "So you want an introduction to La +Somerset, and Marsh refuses--Marsh, hitherto celebrated for his weak +head rather than his hard heart?" + +Richard Bassett nodded rather sullenly. He had not bargained for this +rapid publicity. + +The venerable chief resumed: "We all consider Marsh's conduct +unclubable and a thing to be combined against. Wanted--an +Anti-dog-in-the-manger League. I'll introduce you to the Somerset." + +"What! do _you_ visit her?" asked Bassett, in some astonishment. + +The old gentleman held up his hands in droll disclaimer, and chuckled +merrily "No, no; I enjoy from the shore the disasters of my youthful +friends--that sacred pleasure is left me. Do you see that elegant +creature with the little auburn beard and mustache, waiting sweetly for +his dinner. He launched the Somerset." + +"Launched her?" + +"Yes; but for him she might have wasted her time breaking hearts and +slapping faces in some country village. He it was set her devastating +society; and with his aid she shall devastate you.--Vandeleur, will you +join Bassett and me?" + +Mr. Vandeleur, with ready grace, said he should be delighted, and they +dined together accordingly. + +Mr. Vandeleur, six feet high, lank, but graceful as a panther, and the +pink of politeness, was, beneath his varnish, one of the wildest young +men in London--gambler, horse-racer, libertine, what not?--but in +society charming, and his manners singularly elegant and winning. He +never obtruded his vices in good company; in fact, you might dine with +him all your life and not detect him. The young serpent was torpid in +wine; but he came out, a bit at a time, in the sunshine of Cigar. + +After a brisk conversation on current topics, the venerable chief told +him plainly they were both curious to know the history of Miss +Somerset, and he must tell it them. + +"Oh, with pleasure," said the obliging youth. "Let us go into the +smoking-room." + + + +"Let--me--see. I picked her up by the sea-side. She promised well at +first. We put her on my chestnut mare, and she showed lots of courage, +so she soon learned to ride; but she kicked, even down there." + +"Kicked!--whom?" + +"Kicked all round; I mean showed temper. And when she got to London, +and had ridden a few times in the park, and swallowed flattery, there +was no holding her. I stood her cheek for a good while, but at last I +told the servants they must not turn her out, but they could keep her +out. They sided with me for once. She had ridden over them, as well. +The first time she went out they bolted the doors, and handed her boxes +up the area steps." + +"How did she take that?" + +"Easier than we expected. She said, 'Lucky for you beggars that I'm a +lady, or I'd break every d--d window in the house.'" + +This caused a laugh. It subsided. The historian resumed. + +"Next day she cooled, and wrote a letter." + +"To you?" + +"No, to my groom. Would you like to see it? It is a curiosity." + +He sent one of the club waiters for his servant, and his servant for +his desk, and produced the letter. + +"There!" said Vandeleur. "She looks like a queen, and steps like an +empress, and this is how she writes: + + +"'DEAR JORGE--i have got the sak, an' praps your turn nex. dear jorge +he alwaies promise me the grey oss, which now an oss is life an death +to me. If you was to ast him to lend me the grey he wouldn't refuse +you, + +"'Yours respecfully, + +"'RHODA SOMERSET.'" + + + +When the letter and the handwriting, which, unfortunately, I cannot +reproduce, had been duly studied and approved, Vandeleur continued-- + +"Now, you know, she had her good points, after all. If any creature was +ill, she'd sit up all night and nurse them, and she used to go to +church on Sundays, and come back with the sting out of her; only then +she would preach to a fellow, and bore him. She is awfully fond of +preaching. Her dream is to jump on a first-rate hunter, and ride across +country, and preach to the villages. So, when George came grinning to +me with the letter, I told him to buy a new side-saddle for the gray, +and take her the lot, with my compliments. I had noticed a slight +spavin in his near foreleg. She rode him that very day in the park, all +alone, and made such a sensation that next day my gray was standing in +Lord Hailey's stables. But she rode Hailey, like my gray, with a long +spur, and he couldn't stand it. None of 'em could except Sir Charles +Bassett, and he doesn't play fair--never goes near her." + +"And that gives him an unfair advantage over his fascinating +predecessors?" inquired the senior, slyly. + +"Of course it does," said Vandeleur, stoutly. "You ask a girl to dine +at Richmond once a month, and keep out of her way all the rest of the +time, and give her lots of money--she will never quarrel with you." + +"Profit by this information, young man," said old Woodgate, severely; +"it comes too late for me. In my day there existed no sure method of +pleasing the fair. But now that is invented, along with everything +else. Richmond and--absence, equivalent to 'Richmond and victory!' Now, +Bassett, we have heard the truth from the fountain-head, and it is +rather serious. She swears, she kicks, she preaches. Do you still +desire an introduction? As for me, my manly spirit is beginning to +quake at Vandeleur's revelations, and some lines of Scott recur to my +Gothic memory-- + +"'From the chafed tiger rend his prey, Bar the fell dragon's blighting +way, But shun that lovely snare."' + +Bassett replied, gravely, that he had no such motive as Mr. Woodgate +gave him credit for, but still desired the introduction. + +"With pleasure," said Vandeleur; "but it will be no use to you. She +hates me like poison; says I have no heart. That is what all +ill-tempered women say." + +Notwithstanding his misgivings the obliging youth called for writing +materials, and produced the following epistle-- + + + +"DEAR MISS SOMERSET--Mr. Richard Bassett, a cousin of Sir Charles, +wishes very much to be introduced to you, and has begged me to assist +in an object so laudable. I should hardly venture to present myself, +and, therefore, shall feel surprised as well as flattered if you will +receive Mr. Bassett on my introduction, and my assurance that he is a +respectable country gentleman, and bears no resemblance in character to + +"Yours faithfully, + +"ARTHUR VANDELEUR." + + + +Next day Bassett called at Miss Somerset's house in May Fair, and +delivered his introduction. + +He was admitted after a short delay and entered the lady's boudoir. It +was Luxury's nest. The walls were rose colored satin, padded and +puckered; the voluminous curtains were pale satin, with floods and +billows of real lace; the chairs embroidered, the tables all buhl and +ormolu, and the sofas felt like little seas. The lady herself, in a +delightful peignoir, sat nestled cozily in a sort of ottoman with arms. +Her finely formed hand, clogged with brilliants, was just conveying +brandy and soda-water to a very handsome mouth when Richard Bassett +entered. + +She raised herself superbly, but without leaving her seat, and just +looked at a chair in a way that seemed to say, "I permit you to sit +down;" and that done, she carried the glass to her lips with the same +admirable firmness of hand she showed in driving. Her lofty manner, +coupled with her beautiful but rather haughty features, smacked of +imperial origin. Yet she was the writer to "jorge," and four years ago +a shrimp-girl, running into the sea with legs as brown as a berry. + +So swiftly does merit rise in this world which, nevertheless, some +morose folk pretend is a wicked one. + +I ought to explain, however, that this haughty reception was partly +caused by a breach of propriety. Vandeleur ought first to have written +to her and asked permission to present Richard Bassett. He had no +business to send the man and the introduction together. This law a +Parliament of Sirens had passed, and the slightest breach of it was a +bitter offense Equilibrium governs the world. These ladies were bound +to be overstrict in something or other, being just a little lax in +certain things where other ladies are strict. + +Now Bassett had pondered well what he should say, but he was +disconcerted by her superb presence and demeanor and her large gray +eyes, that rested steadily upon his face. + +However, he began to murmur mellifluously. Said he had often seen her +in public, and admired her, and desired to make her acquaintance, etc., +etc. + +"Then why did you not ask Sir Charles to bring you here?" said Miss +Somerset, abruptly, and searching him with her eyes, that were not to +say bold, but singularly brave, and examiners pointblank. + +"I am not on good terms with Sir Charles. He holds the estates that +ought to be mine; and now he has robbed me of my love. He is the last +man in the world I would ask a favor of." + +"You came here to abuse him behind his back, eh?" asked the lady with +undisguised contempt. + +Bassett winced, but kept his temper. "No, Miss Somerset; but you seem +to think I ought to have come to you through Sir Charles. I would not +enter your house if I did not feel sure I shall not meet him here." + +Miss Somerset looked rather puzzled. "Sir Charles does not come here +every day, but he comes now and then, and he is always welcome." + +"You surprise me." + +"Thank you. Now some of my gentlemen friends think it is a wonder he +does not come every minute." + +"You mistake me. What surprises me is that you are such good friends +under the circumstances." + +"Circumstances! what circumstances?" + +"Oh, you know. You are in his confidence, I presume?"--this rather +satirically. So the lady answered, defiantly: + +"Yes, I am; he knows I can hold my tongue, so he tells me things he +tells nobody else." + +"Then, if you are in his confidence, you know he is about to be +married." + +"Married! Sir Charles married!" + +"In three weeks." + +"It's a lie! You get out of my house this moment!" + +Mr. Bassett colored at this insult. He rose from his seat with some +little dignity, made her a low bow, and retired. But her blood was up: +she made a wonderful rush, sweeping down a chair with her dress as she +went, and caught him at the door, clutched him by the shoulder and half +dragged him back, and made him sit down again, while she stood opposite +him, with the knuckles of one hand resting on the table. + +"Now," said she, panting, "you look me in the face and say that again." + +"Excuse me; you punish me too severely for telling the truth." + +"Well, I beg your pardon--there. Now tell me--this instant. Can't you +speak, man?" And her knuckles drummed the table. + +"He is to be married in three weeks." + +"Oh! Who to?" + +"A young lady I love." + +"Her name?" + +"Miss Arabella Bruce." + +"Where does she live?" + +"Portman Square." + +"I'll stop that marriage." + +"How?" asked Richard, eagerly. + +"I don't know; that I'll think over. But he shall not marry +her--never!" + +Bassett sat and looked up with almost as much awe as complacency at the +fury he had evoked; for this woman was really at times a poetic +impersonation of that fiery passion she was so apt to indulge. She +stood before him, her cheek pale, her eyes glittering and roving +savagely, and her nostrils literally expanding, while her tall body +quivered with wrath, and her clinched knuckles pattered on the table. + +"He shall not marry her. I'll kill him first!" + + +CHAPTER III. + +RICHARD BASSETT eagerly offered his services to break off the obnoxious +match. But Miss Somerset was beginning to be mortified at having shown +so much passion before a stranger. + +"What have you to do with it?" said she, sharply. + +"Everything. I love Miss Bruce." + +"Oh, yes; I forgot that. Anything else? There is, now. I see it in your +eye. What is it?" + + "Sir Charles's estates are mine by right, and they will return to my +line if he does not marry and have issue." + +"Oh, I see. That is so like a man. It's always love, and something more +important, with you. Well, give me your address. I'll write if I want +you." + +"Highly flattered," said Bassett, ironically-wrote his address and left +her. + +Miss Somerset then sat down and wrote: + + + +"DEAR SIR CHARLES--please call here, I want to speak to you. + +yours respecfuly, + +"RHODA SOMERSET." + + + +Sir Charles obeyed this missive, and the lady received him with a +gracious and smiling manner, all put on and catlike. She talked with +him of indifferent things for more than an hour, still watching to see +if he would tell her of his own accord. + +When she was quite sure he would not, she said, + +"Do you know there's a ridiculous report about that you are going to be +married?" + +"Indeed!" + +"They even tell her name--Miss Bruce. Do you know the girl?" + +"Yes." + +"Is she pretty?" + +"Very." + +"Modest?" + +"As an angel." + +"And are you going to marry her?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you are a villain." + +"The deuce I am!" + +"You are, to abandon a woman who has sacrificed all for you." + +Sir Charles looked puzzled, and then smiled; but was too polite to give +his thoughts vent. Nor was it necessary; Miss Somerset, whose brave +eyes never left the person she was speaking to, fired up at the smile +alone, and she burst into a torrent of remonstrance, not to say +vituperation. Sir Charles endeavored once or twice to stop it, but it +was not to be stopped; so at last he quietly took up his hat, to go. + +He was arrested at the door by a rustle and a fall. He turned round, +and there was Miss Somerset lying on her back, grinding her white teeth +and clutching the air. + +He ran to the bell and rang it violently, then knelt down and did his +best to keep her from hurting herself; but, as generally happens in +these cases, his interference made her more violent. He had hard work +to keep her from battering her head against the floor, and her arms +worked like windmills. + +Hearing the bell tugged so violently, a pretty page ran headlong into +the room--saw--and; without an instant's diminution of speed, described +a curve, and ran headlong out, screaming "Polly! Polly!" + +The next moment the housekeeper, an elderly woman, trotted in at the +door, saw her mistress's condition, and stood stock-still, calling, +"Polly," but with the most perfect tranquillity the mind can conceive. + +In ran a strapping house-maid, with black eyes and brown arms, went +down on her knees, and said, firmly though respectfully, "Give her me, +sir." + +She got behind her struggling mistress, pulled her up into her own lap, +and pinned her by the wrists with a vigorous grasp. + +The lady struggled, and ground her teeth audibly, and flung her arms +abroad. The maid applied all her rustic strength and harder muscle to +hold her within bounds. The four arms went to and fro in a magnificent +struggle, and neither could the maid hold the mistress still, nor the +mistress shake off the maid's grasp, nor strike anything to hurt +herself. + +Sir Charles, thrust out of the play looked on with pity and anxiety, +and the little page at the door--combining art and nature--stuck +stock-still in a military attitude, and blubbered aloud. + +As for the housekeeper, she remained in the middle of the room with +folded arms, and looked down on the struggle with a singular expression +of countenance. There was no agitation whatever, but a sort of +thoughtful examination, half cynical, half admiring. + +However, as soon as the boy's sobs reached her ear she wakened up, and +said, tenderly, "What is the child crying for? Run and get a basin of +water, and fling it all over her; that will bring her to in a minute." + +The page departed swiftly on this benevolent errand. + +Then the lady gave a deep sigh, and ceased to struggle. + +Next she stared in all their faces, and seemed to return to +consciousness. + +Next she spoke, but very feebly. "Help me up," she sighed. + +Sir Charles and Polly raised her, and now there was a marvelous change. +The vigorous vixen was utterly weak, and limp as a wet towel--a woman +of jelly. As such they handled her, and deposited her gingerly on the +sofa. + +Now the page ran in hastily with the water. Up jumps the poor lax +sufferer, with flashing eyes: "You dare come near me with it!" Then to +the female servants: "Call yourselves women, and water my lilac silk, +not two hours old?" Then to the housekeeper: "You old monster, you +wanted it for your Polly. Get out of my sight, _the lot!"_ + +Then, suddenly remembering how feeble she was, she sank instantly down, +and turned piteously and languidly to Sir Charles. "They eat my bread, +and rob me, and hate me," said she, faintly. "I have but one friend on +earth." She leaned tenderly toward Sir Charles as that friend; but +before she quite reached him she started back, her eyes filled with +sudden horror. "And he forsakes me!" she cried; and so turned away from +him despairingly, and began to cry bitterly, with head averted over the +sofa, and one hand hanging by her side for Sir Charles to take and +comfort her. He tried to take it. It resisted; and, under cover of that +little disturbance, the other hand dexterously whipped two pins out of +her hair. The long brown tresses--all her own--fell over her eyes and +down to her waist, and the picture of distressed beauty was complete. + +Even so did the women of antiquity conquer male pity--_"solutis +crinibus."_ + +The females interchanged a meaning glance, and retired; then the boy +followed them with his basin, sore perplexed, but learning life in this +admirable school. + +Sir Charles then, with the utmost kindness, endeavored to reconcile the +weeping and disheveled fair to that separation which circumstances +rendered necessary. But she was inconsolable, and he left the house, +perplexed and grieved; not but what it gratified his vanity a little to +find himself beloved all in a moment, and the Somerset unvixened. He +could not help thinking how wide must be the circle of his charms, +which had won the affections of two beautiful women so opposite in +character as Bella Bruce and La Somerset. + +The passion of this latter seemed to grow. She wrote to him every day, +and begged him to call on her. + +She called on him--she who had never called on a man before. + +She raged with jealousy; she melted with grief. She played on him with +all a woman's artillery; and at last actually wrung from him what she +called a reprieve. + +Richard Bassett called on her, but she would not receive him; so then +he wrote to her, urging co-operation, and she replied, frankly, that +she took no interest in his affairs; but that she was devoted to Sir +Charles, and should keep him for herself. Vanity tempted her to add +that he (Sir Charles) was with her every day, and the wedding +postponed. + +This last seemed too good to be true, so Richard Bassett set his +servant to talk to the servants in Portman Square. He learned that the +wedding was now to be on the 15th of June, instead of the 31st of May. + +Convinced that this postponement was only a blind, and that the +marriage would never be, he breathed more freely at the news. + +But the fact is, although Sir Charles had yielded so far to dread of +scandal, he was ashamed of himself, and his shame became remorse when +he detected a furtive tear in the dove-like eyes of her he really loved +and esteemed. + +He went and told his trouble to Mr. Oldfield. "I am afraid she will do +something desperate," he said. + +Mr. Oldfield heard him out, and then asked him had he told Miss +Somerset what he was going to settle on her. + +"Not I. She is not in a condition to be influenced by that, at +present." + +"Let me try her. The draft is ready. I'll call on her to-morrow." He +did call, and was told she did not know him. + +"You tell her I am a lawyer, and it is very much to her interest to see +me," said Mr. Oldfield to the page. + +He was admitted, but not to a _tete-a-tete._ Polly was kept in the +room. The Somerset had peeped, and Oldfield was an old fellow, with +white hair; if he had been a young fellow, with black hair, she might +have thought that precaution less necessary. + + "First, madam," said Oldfield, "I must beg you to accept my apologies +for not coming sooner. Press of business, etc." + +"Why have you come at all? That is the question," inquired the lady, +bluntly. + +"I bring the draft of a deed for your approval. Shall I read it to +you?" + +"Yes; if it is not very long." He began to read it. The lady +interrupted him characteristically. + +"It's a beastly rigmarole. What does it mean--in three words?" + +"Sir Charles Bassett secures to Rhoda Somerset four hundred pounds a +year, while single; this is reduced to two hundred if you marry. The +deed further assigns to you, without reserve, the beneficial lease of +this house, and all the furniture and effects, plate, linen, wine, +etc." + +"I see--a bribe." + +"Nothing of the kind, madam. When Sir Charles instructed me to prepare +this deed he expected no opposition on your part to his marriage; but +he thought it due to him and to yourself to mark his esteem for you, +and his recollection of the pleasant hours he has spent in your +company." + +Miss Somerset's eyes searched the lawyer's face. He stood the battery +unflinchingly. She altered her tone, and asked, politely and almost +respectfully, whether she might see that paper. + +Mr. Oldfield gave it her. She took it, and ran her eye over it; in +doing which, she raised it so that she could think behind it +unobserved. She handed it back at last, with the remark that Sir +Charles was a gentleman and had done the right thing. + +"He has; and you will do the right thing too, will you not?" + +"I don't know. I am just beginning to fall in love with him myself." + +"Jealousy, madam, not love," said the old lawyer. "Come, now! I see you +are a young lady of rare good sense; look the thing in the face: Sir +Charles is a landed gentleman; he must marry, and, have heirs. He is +over thirty, and his time has come. He has shown himself your friend; +why not be his? He has given you the means to marry a gentleman of +moderate income, or to marry beneath you, if you prefer it--" + +"And most of us do--" + +"Then why not make his path smooth? Why distress him with your tears +and remonstrances?" + +He continued in this strain for some time, appealing to her good sense +and her better feelings. + +When he had done she said, very quietly, "How about the ponies and my +brown mare? Are they down in the deed?" + +"I think not; but if you will do your part handsomely I'll guarantee +you shall have them." + +"You are a good soul." Then, after a pause, "Now just you tell me +exactly what you want me to do for all this." + +Oldfield was pleased with this question. He said, "I wish you to +abstain from writing to Sir Charles, and him to visit you only once +more before his marriage, just to shake hands and part, with mutual +friendship and good wishes." + +"You are right," said she, softly; "best for us both, and only fair to +the girl." Then, with sudden and eager curiosity, "Is she very pretty?" + +"I don't know." + +"What, hasn't he told you?" + +"He says she is lovely, and every way adorable; but then he is in love. +The chances are she is not half so handsome as yourself." + +"And yet he is in love with her?" + +"Over head and ears." + +"I don't believe it. If he was really in love with one woman he +couldn't be just to another. _I_ couldn't. He'll be coming back to me +in a few months." + +"God forbid!" + +"Thank you, old gentleman." + +Mr. Oldfield began to stammer excuses. She interrupted him: "Oh, bother +all that; I like you none the worse for speaking your mind." Then, +after a pause, "Now excuse me; but suppose Sir Charles should change +his mind, and never sign this paper?" + +"I pledge my professional credit." + +"That is enough, sir; I see I can trust you. Well, then, I consent to +break off with Sir Charles, and only see him once more--as a friend. +Poor Sir Charles! I hope he will be happy" (she squeezed out a tear for +him)--"happier than I am. And when he does come he can sign the deed, +you know." + +Mr. Oldfield left her, and joined Sir Charles at Long's, as had been +previously agreed. + +"It is all right, Sir Charles; she is a sensible girl, and will give +you no further trouble." + +"How did you get over the hysterics?" + +"We dispensed with them. She saw at once it was to be business, not +sentiment. You are to pay her one more visit, to sign, and part +friends. If you please, I'll make that appointment with both parties, +as soon as the deed is engrossed. Oh, by-the-by, she did shed a tear or +two, but she dried them to ask me for the ponies and the brown mare." + +Sir Charles's vanity was mortified. But he laughed it off, and said she +should have them, of course. + +So now his mind was at ease, his conscience was at rest, and he could +give his whole time where he had given his heart. + +Richard Bassett learned, through his servant, that the wedding-dresses +were ordered. He called on Miss Somerset. She was out. + +Polly opened the door and gave him a look of admiration--due to his +fresh color--that encouraged him to try and enlist her in his service. + +He questioned her, and she told him in a general way how matters were +going. "But," said she, "why not come and talk to her yourself? Ten to +one but she tells you. She is pretty outspoken." + +"My pretty dear," said Richard, "she never will receive me." + +"Oh, but I'll make her!" said Polly. + +And she did exert her influence as follows: + +"Lookee here, the cousin's a-coming to-morrow and I've been and +promised he should see you." + +"What did you do that for?" + +"Why, he's a well-looking chap, and a beautiful color, fresh from the +country, like me. And he's a gentleman, and got an estate belike; and +why not put yourn to hisn, and so marry him and be a lady? You might +have me about ye all the same, till my turn comes." + +"No, no," said Rhoda; "that's not the man for me. If ever I marry, it +must be one of my own sort, or else a fool, like Marsh, that I can make +a slave of." + +"Well, any way, you must see him, not to make a fool of _me,_ for I did +promise him; which, now I think on't, 'twas very good of me, for I +could find in my heart to ask him down into the kitchen, instead of +bringing him upstairs to you." + +All this ended, somehow, in Mr. Bassett's being admitted. + +To his anxious inquiry how matters stood, she replied coolly that Sir +Charles and herself were parted by mutual consent. + +"What! after all your protestations?" said Bassett, bitterly. + +But Miss Somerset was not in an irascible humor just then. She shrugged +her shoulders, and said: + +"Yes, I remember I put myself in a passion, and said some ridiculous +things. But one can't be always a fool. I have come to my senses. This +sort of thing always does end, you know. Most of them part enemies, but +he and I part friends and well-wishers." + +"And you throw _me_ over as if I was nobody," said Richard, white with +anger. + +"Why, what are you to me?" said the Somerset. "Oh, I see. You thought +to make a cat's-paw of me. Well, you won't, then." + +"In other words, you have been bought off." + +"No, I have not. I am not to be bought by anybody--and I am not to be +insulted by you, you ruffian! How dare you come here and affront a lady +in her own house--a lady whose shoestrings your betters are ready to +tie, you brute? If you want to be a landed proprietor, go and marry +some ugly old hag that's got it, and no eyesight left to see you're no +gentleman. Sir Charles's land you'll never have; a better man has got +it, and means to keep it for him and his. Here, Polly! Polly! Polly! +take this man down to the kitchen, and teach him manners if you can: he +is not fit for my drawing-room, by a long chalk." + +Polly arrived in time to see the flashing eyes, the swelling veins, and +to hear the fair orator's peroration. + +"What, you are in your tantrums again!" said she. "Come along, sir. +Needs must when the devil drives. You'll break a blood-vessel some day, +my lady, like your father afore ye." + +And with this homely suggestion, which always sobered Miss Somerset, +and, indeed, frightened her out of her wits, she withdrew the offender. +She did not take him into the kitchen, but into the dining-room, and +there he had a long talk with her, and gave her a sovereign. + +She promised to inform him if anything important should occur. + +He went away, pondering and scowling deeply. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +SIR CHARLES BASSETT was now living in Elysium. Never was rake more +thoroughly transformed. Every day he sat for hours at the feet of Bella +Bruce, admiring her soft, feminine ways and virgin modesty even more +than her beauty. And her visible blush whenever he appeared suddenly, +and the soft commotion and yielding in her lovely frame whenever he +drew near, betrayed his magnetic influence, and told all but the blind +she adored him. + +She would decline all invitations to dine with him and her father--a +strong-minded old admiral, whose authority was unbounded, only, to +Bella's regret, very rarely exerted. Nothing would have pleased her +more than to be forbidden this and commanded that; but no! the admiral +was a lion with an enormous paw, only he could not be got to put it +into every pie. + +In this charming society the hours glided, and the wedding-day drew +close. So deeply and sincerely was Sir Charles in love that when Mr. +Oldfield's letter came, appointing the day and hour to sign Miss +Somerset's deed, he was unwilling to go, and wrote back to ask if the +deed could not be sent to his house. + +Mr. Oldfield replied that the parties to the deed and the witnesses +must meet, and it would be unadvisable, for several reasons, to +irritate the lady's susceptibility previous to signature; the +appointment having been made at her house, it had better remain so. + +That day soon came. + +Sir Charles, being due in Mayfair at 2 P.M., compensated himself for +the less agreeable business to come by going earlier than usual to +Portman Square. By this means he caught Miss Bruce and two other young +ladies inspecting bridal dresses. Bella blushed and looked ashamed, +and, to the surprise of her friends, sent the dresses away, and set +herself to talk rationally with Sir Charles--as rationally as lovers +can. + +The ladies took the cue, and retired in disgust. + +Sir Charles apologized. + +"This is too bad of me. I come at an unheard-of hour, and frighten away +your fair friends; but the fact is, I have an appointment at two, and I +don't know how long they will keep me, so I thought I would make sure +of two happy hours at the least." + +And delightful hours they were. Bella Bruce, excited by this little +surprise, leaned softly on his shoulder, and prattled her maiden love +like some warbling fountain. + +Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind--three months +ago he could not--and they compared pretty little plans of wedded life, +and had small differences, and ended by agreeing. + +Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, they would not have +a single quarrel, like other people; their love should never lose its +delicate bloom; second, they would grow old together, and die the same +day--the same minute if possible; if not, they must be content with the +same day, but, on that, inexorable. + +But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to obey t'other. + +Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and therefore more +fit to conduct the pair. + +Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this reason furiously. +He defended it. He admitted, with exemplary candor, that he was good +now--"awfully good." But he assured her that he had been anything but +good until he knew her; now she had been always good; therefore, he +argued, as his goodness came originally from her, for her to obey him +would be a little too much like the moon commanding the sun. + +"That is too ingenious for me, Charles," said Bella. "And, for shame! +Nobody was ever so good as you are. I look up to you and--Now I could +stop your mouth in a minute. I have only to remind you that I shall +swear at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear to obey me. But +I will not crush you under the Prayer-book--no, dearest; but, indeed, +to obey is a want of my nature, and I marry you to supply that want: +and that's a story, for I marry you because I love and honor and +worship and adore you to distraction, my own--own--own!" With this she +flung herself passionately, yet modestly on his shoulder, and, being +there, murmured, coaxingly, "You will let me obey you, Charles?" + +Thereupon Sir Charles felt highly gelatinous, and lost, for the moment, +all power of resistance or argument. + +"Ah, you will; and then you will remind me of my dear mother. She knew +how to command; but as for poor dear papa, he is very disappointing. In +selecting an admiral for my parent, I made sure of being ordered about. +Instead of that--now I'll show you--there he is in the next room, +inventing a new system of signals, poor dear--" + +She threw the folding-doors open. + +"Papa dear, shall I ask Charles to dinner to-day?" + +"As you please, my dear." + +"Do you think I had better walk or ride this afternoon?" + +"Whichever you prefer." + +"There," said Bella, "I told you so. That is always the way. Papa dear, +you used always to be firing guns at sea. Do, please, fire one in this +house--just one--before I leave it, and make the very windows rattle." + +"I beg your pardon, Bella; I never wasted powder at sea. If the convoy +sailed well and steered right I never barked at them. You are a modest, +sensible girl, and have always steered a good course. Why should I +hoist a petticoat and play the small tyrant? Wait till I see you going +to do something wrong or silly." + +"Ah! then you _would_ fire a gun, papa?" + +"Ay, a broadside." + +"Well, that is something," said Bella, as she closed the door softly. + +"No, no; it amounts to just nothing," said Sir Charles; "for you never +will do anything wrong or silly. I'll accommodate you. I have thought +of a way. I shall give you some blank cards; you shall write on them, +'I think I should like to do so and so.' You shall be careless, and +leave them about; I'll find them, and bluster, and say, 'I command you +to do so and so, Bella Bassett'--the very thing on the card, you know." + +Bella colored to the brow with pleasure and modesty. After a pause she +said: "How sweet! The worst of it is, I should get my own way. Now what +I want is to submit my will to yours. A gentle tyrant--that is what you +must be to Bella Bassett. Oh, you sweet, sweet, for calling me that!" + +These projects were interrupted by a servant announcing luncheon. This +made Sir Charles look hastily at his watch, and he found it was past +two o'clock. + +"How time flies in this house!" said he. "I must go, dearest; I am +behind my appointment already. What do you do this afternoon?" + +"Whatever you please, my own." + +"I could get away by four." + +"Then I will stay at home for you." + +He left her reluctantly, and she followed him to the head of the +stairs, and hung over the balusters as if she would like to fly after +him. + +He turned at the street-door, saw that radiant and gentle face beaming +after him, and they kissed hands to each other by one impulse, as if +they were parting for ever so long. + +He had gone scarcely half an hour when a letter, addressed to her, was +left at the door by a private messenger. + +"Any answer?" inquired the servant. + +"No." + +The letter was sent up, and delivered to her on a silver salver. + +She opened it; it was a thing new to her in her young life--an +anonymous letter. + + + +"MISS BRUCE--I am almost a stranger to you, but I know your character +from others, and cannot bear to see you abused. You are said to be +about to marry Sir Charles Bassett. I think you can hardly be aware +that he is connected with a lady of doubtful repute, called Somerset, +and neither your beauty nor your virtue has prevailed to detach him +from that connection. + +"If, on engaging himself to you, he had abandoned her, I should not +have said a word. But the truth is, he visits her constantly, and I +blush to say that when he leaves you this day it will be to spend the +afternoon at her house. + +"I inclose you her address, and you can learn in ten minutes whether I +am a slanderer or, what I wish to be, + +"A FRIEND OF INJURED INNOCENCE." + + +CHAPTER V. + +SIR CHARLES was behind his time in Mayfair; but the lawyer and his +clerk had not arrived, and Miss Somerset was not visible. + +She appeared, however, at last, in a superb silk dress, the broad +luster of which would have been beautiful, only the effect was broken +and frittered away by six rows of gimp and fringe. But why blame her? +This is a blunder in art as universal as it is amazing, when one +considers the amount of apparent thought her sex devotes to dress. They +might just as well score a fair plot of velvet turf with rows of box, +or tattoo a blooming and downy cheek. + +She held out her hand, like a man, and talked to Sir Charles on +indifferent topics, till Mr. Oldfield arrived. She then retired into +the background, and left the gentlemen to discuss the deed. When +appealed to, she evaded direct replies, and put on languid and imperial +indifference. When she signed, it was with the air of some princess +bestowing a favor upon solicitation. + +But the business concluded, she thawed all in a moment, and invited the +gentlemen to luncheon with charming cordiality. Indeed, her genuine +_bonhomie_ after her affected indifference was rather comic. Everybody +was content. Champagne flowed. The lady, with her good mother-wit, kept +conversation going till the lawyer was nearly missing his next +appointment. He hurried away; and Sir Charles only lingered, out of +good-breeding, to bid Miss Somerset good-by. In the course of +leave-taking he said he was sorry he left her with people about her of +whom he had a bad opinion. "Those women have no more feeling for you +than stones. When you lay in convulsions, your housekeeper looked on as +philosophically as if you had been two kittens at play--you and Polly." + +"I saw her." + +"Indeed! You appeared hardly in a condition to see anything." + +"I did, though, and heard the old wretch tell the young monkey to water +my lilac dress. That was to get it for her Polly. She knew I'd never +wear it afterward." + +"Then why don't you turn her off?" + +"Who'd take such a useless old hag, if I turned her off?" + +"You carry a charity a long way." + +"I carry everything. What's the use doing things by halves, good or +bad?" + +"Well, but that Polly! She is young enough to get her living elsewhere; +and she is extremely disrespectful to you." + +"That she is. If I wasn't a lady, I'd have given her a good hiding this +very day for her cheek!" + +"Then why not turn her off this very day for her cheek?" + +"Well, I'll tell you, since you and I are parted forever. No, I don't +like." + +"Oh, come! No secrets between friends." + +"Well, then, the old hag is--my mother." + +"What?" + +"And the young jade--is my sister." + +"Good Heavens!" + +"And the page--is my little brother." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" + +"What, you are not angry?" + +"Angry? no. Ha, ha, ha!" + +"See what a hornets' nest you have escaped from. My dear friend, those +two women rob me through thick and thin. They steal my handkerchiefs, +and my gloves, and my very linen. They drink my wine like fishes. +They'd take the hair off my head, if it wasn't fast by the roots--for a +wonder." + +"Why not give them a ten-pound note and send them home?" + +"They'd pocket the note, and blacken me in our village. That was why I +had them up here. First time I went home, after running about with that +little scamp, Vandeleur--do you know him?" + +"I have not the honor." + +"Then your luck beats mine. One thing, he is going to the dogs as fast +as he can. Some day he'll come begging to me for a fiver. You mark my +words now." + +"Well, but you were saying--" + +"Yes, I went off about Van. Polly _says_ I've a mind like running +water. Well, then, when I went home the first time--after Van, mother +and Polly raised a virtuous howl. 'All right,' said I--for, of course, +I know how much virtue there is under _their_ skins. Virtue of the +lower orders! Tell that to gentlefolks that don't know them. I do. I've +been one of 'em--'I know all about that,' says I. 'You want to share +the plunder, that is the sense of your virtuous cry.' So I had 'em up +here; and then there was no more virtuous howling, but a deal of +virtuous thieving, and modest drinking, and pure-minded selling of my +street-door to the highest male bidder. And they will corrupt the boy; +and if they do, I'll cuts their black hearts out with my riding-whip. +But I suppose I must keep them on; they are my own flesh and blood; and +if I was to be ill and dying, they'd do all they knew to keep me +alive--for their own sakes. I'm their milch cow, these country +innocents." + +Sir Charles groaned aloud, and said, "My poor girl, you deserve a +better fate than this. Marry some honest fellow, and cut the whole +thing." + +"I'll see about it. You try it first, and let us see how you like it." + +And so they parted gayly. + +In the hall, Polly intercepted him, all smiles. He looked at her, +smiled in his sleeve, and gave her a handsome present. "If you please, +sir," said she, "an old gentleman called for you." + +"When?" + +"About an hour ago. Leastways, he asked if Sir Charles Bassett was +there. I said yes, but you wouldn't see no one." + +"Who could it be? Why, surely you never told anybody I was to be here +to-day?" + +"La, no, sir! how could I?" said Polly, with a face of brass. + +Sir Charles thought this very odd, and felt a little uneasy about it. +All to Portman Square he puzzled over it; and at last he was driven to +the conclusion that Miss Somerset had been weak enough to tell some +person, male or female, of the coming interview, and so somebody had +called there--doubtless to ask him a favor. + +At five o'clock he reached Portman Square, and was about to enter, as a +matter of course; but the footman stopped him. "I beg pardon, Sir +Charles," said the man, looking pale and agitated; "but I have strict +orders. My young lady is very ill." + +"Ill! Let me go to her this instant." + +"I daren't, Sir Charles, I daren't. I know you are a gentleman; pray +don't lose me my place. You would never get to see her. We none of us +know the rights, but there's something up. Sorry to say it, Sir +Charles, but we have strict orders not to admit you. Haven't you the +admiral's letter, sir?" + +"No; what letter?" + +"He has been after you, sir; and when he came back he sent Roger off to +your house with a letter." + +A cold chill began to run down Sir Charles Bassett. He hailed a passing +hansom, and drove to his own house to get the admiral's letter; and as +he went he asked himself, with chill misgivings, what on earth had +happened. + +What had happened shall be told the reader precisely but briefly. . + +In the first place, Bella had opened the anonymous letter and read its +contents, to which the reader is referred. + +There are people who pretend to despise anonymous letters. Pure +delusion! they know they ought to, and so fancy they do; but they +don't. The absence of a signature gives weight, if the letter is ably +written and seems true. + +As for poor Bella Bruce, a dove's bosom is no more fit to rebuff a +poisoned arrow than she was to combat that foulest and direst of all a +miscreant's weapons, an anonymous letter. She, in her goodness and +innocence, never dreamed that any person she did not know could +possibly tell a lie to wound her. The letter fell on her like a cruel +revelation from heaven. + +The blow was so savage that, at first, it stunned her. + +She sat pale and stupefied; but beneath the stupor were the rising +throbs of coming agonies. + +After that horrible stupor her anguish grew and grew, till it found +vent in a miserable cry, rising, and rising, and rising, in agony. + +"Mamma! mamma! mamma!" + +Yes; her mother had been dead these three years, and her father sat in +the next room; yet, in her anguish, she cried to her mother--a cry the +which, if your mother had heard, she would have expected Bella's to +come to her even from the grave. + +Admiral Bruce heard this fearful cry--the living calling on the +dead--and burst through the folding-doors in a moment, white as a +ghost. + +He found his daughter writhing on the sofa, ghastly, and grinding in +her hand the cursed paper that had poisoned her young life. + +"My child! my child!" + +"Oh, papa! see! see!" And she tried to open the letter for him, but her +hands trembled so she could not. + +He kneeled down by her side, the stout old warrior, and read the +letter, while she clung to him, moaning now, and quivering all over +from head to foot. + +"Why, there's no signature! The writer is a coward and, perhaps, a +liar. Stop! he offers a test. I'll put him to it this minute." + +He laid the moaning girl on the sofa, ordered his servants to admit +nobody into the house, and drove at once to Mayfair. + +He called at Miss Somerset's house, saw Polly, and questioned her. + +He drove home again, and came into the drawing-room looking as he had +been seen to look when fighting his ship; but his daughter had never +seen him so. "My girl," said he, solemnly, "there's nothing for you to +do but to be brave, and hide your grief as well as you can, for the man +is unworthy of your love. That coward spoke the truth. He is there at +this moment." + +"Oh, papa! papa! let me die! The world is too wicked for me. Let me +die!" + +"Die for an unworthy object? For shame! Go to your own room, my girl, +and pray to your God to help you, since your mother has left us. Oh, +how I miss her now! Go and pray, and let no one else know what we +suffer. Be your father's daughter. Fight and pray." + +Poor Bella had no longer to complain that she was not commanded. She +kissed him, and burst into a great passion of weeping; but he led her +to the door, and she tottered to her own room, a blighted girl. + +The sight of her was harrowing. Under its influence the admiral dashed +off a letter to Sir Charles, calling him a villain, and inviting him to +go to France and let an indignant father write scoundrel on his +carcass. + +But when he had written this his good sense and dignity prevailed over +his fury; he burned the letter, and wrote another. This he sent by hand +to Sir Charles's house, and ordered his servants--but that the reader +knows. + +Sir Charles found the admiral's letter in his letter-rack. It ran thus: + + + +"SIR--We have learned your connection with a lady named Somerset, and I +have ascertained that you went from my daughter to her house this very +day. + +"Miss Bruce and myself withdraw from all connection with you, and I +must request you to attempt no communication with her of any kind. Such +an attempt would be an additional insult. + +"I am, sir, your obedient servant, + +"JOHN URQUHART BRUCE." + + + +At first Sir Charles Bassett was stunned by this blow. Then his mind +resisted the admiral's severity, and he was indignant at being +dismissed for so common an offense. This gave way to deep grief and +shame at the thought of Bella and her lost esteem. But soon all other +feelings merged for a time in fury at the heartless traitor who had +destroyed his happiness, and had dashed the cup of innocent love from +his very lips. Boiling over with mortification and rage, he drove at +once to that traitor's house. Polly opened the door. He rushed past +her, and burst into the dining-room, breathless, and white with +passion. + +He found Miss Somerset studying the deed by which he had made her +independent for life. She started at his strange appearance, and +instinctively put both hands flat upon the deed. + +"You vile wretch!" cried Sir Charles. "You heartless monster! Enjoy +your work." And he flung her the admiral's letter. But he did not wait +while she read it; he heaped reproaches on her; and, for the first time +in her life, she did not reply in kind. + +"Are you mad?" she faltered. "What have I done?" + +"You have told Admiral Bruce." + +"That's false." + +"You told him I was to be here to-day." + +"Charles, I never did. Believe me." + +"You did. Nobody knew it but you. He was here to-day at the very hour." + +"May I never get up alive off this chair if I told a soul. Yes, our +Polly. I'll ring for her." + +"No, you will not. She is your sister. Do you think I'll take the word +of such reptiles against the plain fact? You have parted my love and +me--parted us on the very day I had made you independent for life. An +innocent love was waiting to bless me, and an honest love was in your +power, thanks to me, your kind, forgiving friend and benefactor. I have +heaped kindness on you from the first moment I had the misfortune to +know you. I connived at your infidelities--" + +"Charles! Don't say that. I never _was."_ + +"I indulged your most expensive whims, and, instead of leaving you with +a curse, as all the rest did that ever knew you, and as you deserve, I +bought your consent to lead a respectable life, and be blessed with a +virtuous love. You took the bribe, but robbed me of the +blessing--viper! You have destroyed me, body and soul--monster! perhaps +blighted her happiness as well; you she-devils hate an angel worse than +Heaven hates you. But you shall suffer with us; not your heart, for you +have none, but your pocket. You have broken faith with me, and sent all +my happiness to hell; I'll send your deed to hell after it!" With this, +he flung himself upon the deed, and was going to throw it into the +fire. Now up to that moment she had been overpowered by this man's +fury, whom she had never seen the least angry before; but when he laid +hands on her property it acted like an electric shock. "No! no!" she +screamed, and sprang at him like a wildcat. + +Then ensued a violent and unseemly struggle all about the room; chairs +were upset, and vases broken to pieces; and the man and woman dragged +each other to and fro, one fighting for her property, as if it was her +life, and the other for revenge. + +Sir Charles, excited by fury, was stronger than himself, and at last +shook off one of her hands for a moment, and threw the deed into the +fire. She tried to break from him and save it, but he held her like +iron. + +Yet not for long. While he was holding her back, and she straining +every nerve to get to the fire, he began to show sudden symptoms of +distress. He gasped loudly, and cried, "Oh! oh! I'm choking!" and then +his clutch relaxed. She tore herself from it, and, plunging forward, +rescued the smoking parchment. + +At that moment she heard a great stagger behind her, and a pitiful +moan, and Sir Charles fell heavily, striking his head against the edge +of the sofa. She looked round--as she knelt, and saw him, black in the +face, rolling his eyeballs fearfully, while his teeth gnashed awfully, +and a little jet of foam flew through his lips. + +Then she shrieked with terror, and the blackened deed fell from her +hands. At this moment Polly rushed into the room. She saw the fearful +sight, and echoed her sister's scream. But they were neither of them +women to lose their heads and beat the air with their hands. They got +to him, and both of them fought hard with the unconscious sufferer, +whose body, in a fresh convulsion, now bounded away from the sofa, and +bade fair to batter itself against the ground. + +They did all they could to hold him with one arm apiece, and to release +his swelling throat with the other. Their nimble fingers whipped off +his neck-tie in a moment; but the distended windpipe pressed so against +the shirt-button they could not undo it. Then they seized the collar, +and, pulling against each other, wrenched the shirt open so powerfully +that the button flew into the air, and tinkled against a mirror a long +way off. + +A few more struggles, somewhat less violent, and then the face, from +purple, began to whiten, the eyeballs fixed; the pulse went down; the +man lay still. + +"Oh, my God!" cried Rhoda Somerset. "He is dying! To the nearest +doctor! There's one three doors off. No bonnet! It's life and death +this moment. Fly!" + +Polly obeyed, and Doctor Andrews was actually in the room within five +minutes. + +He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and felt his pulse +anxiously. + +Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, though she did not +look it, began to weep bitterly, and rock herself in rustic fashion. + +The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told him, between her sobs, +how Sir Charles had been taken. + +The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by those frightful +symptoms she related, took a more cheerful view directly. "Then do not +alarm yourself unnecessarily," he said. "It was only an epileptic fit." + +"Only!" sobbed Miss Somerset. "Oh, if you had seen him! And he lies +like death." + +"Yes," said Dr. Andrews; "a severe epileptic fit is really a terrible +thing to look at; but it is not dangerous in proportion. Is he used to +have them?" + +"Oh, no, doctor--never had one before." + +Here she was mistaken, I think. + +"You must keep him quiet; and give him a moderate stimulant as soon as +he can swallow comfortably; the quietest room in the house; and don't +let him be hungry, night or day. Have food by his bedside, and watch +him for a day or two. I'll come again this evening." + +The doctor went to his dinner--tranquil. + +Not so those he left. Miss Somerset resigned her own luxurious bedroom, +and had the patient laid, just as he was, upon her bed. She sent the +page out to her groom and ordered two loads of straw to be laid before +the door; and she watched by the sufferer, with brandy and water by her +side. + +Sir Charles now might have seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, but for +his eyes. They were open, and showed more white, and less pupil, than +usual. + +However, in time he began to sigh and move, and even mutter; and, +gradually, some little color came back to his pale cheeks. + +Then Miss Somerset had the good sense to draw back out of his sight, +and order Polly to take her place by his side. Polly did so, and, some +time afterward, at a fresh order, put a teaspoonful of brandy to his +lips, which were still pale and even bluish. + +The doctor returned, and brought his assistant. They put the patient to +bed. + +"His life is in no danger," said he. "I wish I was as sure about his +reason." + + + +At one o'clock in the morning, as Polly was snoring by the patient's +bedside, a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was Rhoda. + +"Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here." + +"You'd be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do." + +"Very likely," said Rhoda, with a gentleness that struck Polly as very +singular. "Good-night." + +Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder than she had ever +thought before. + +Next morning, early, Polly came into the sick-room. There sat her +sister watching the patient, out of sight. + +"La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night?" + +"Yes. Don't speak so loud. Come here. You've set your heart on this +lilac silk. I'll give it to you for your black merino." + +"Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, nor of me neither." + +"I'm not a liar like you," said the other, becoming herself for a +moment, "and what I say I'll do. You put out your merino for me in the +dressing-room." + +"All right," said Polly, joyfully. + +"And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. I have never closed +my eyes." + +"Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself all the same. +Whatever you can see in cold water, to run after it so, I can't think. +If I was to flood myself like you, it would soon float me to my long +home." + +"How do you know? _You never gave it a trial._ Come, no more chat. Give +me my bath: and then you may wash yourself in a tea-cup if you +like--only don't wash my spoons in the same water, for _mercy's sake!"_ + +Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly brought cold water +galore, and laid out her new merino dress. In this sober suit, with +plain linen collar and cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumed +her watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out of sight, for +the patient was now beginning to mutter incoherently, yet in a way that +showed his clouded faculties were dwelling on the calamity which had +befallen him. + +About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly entering, Rhoda +called her to the window and showed her two female figures plodding +down the street. "Look," said she. "Those are the only women I envy. +Sisters of Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at those +beastly ugly caps: then come and tell me how to make one." + +"Here's a go!" said Polly; but executed the commission promptly. + +It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of linen into one of +those ugly caps, which are beautiful banners of Christian charity and +womanly tenderness to the sick and suffering. The monster cap was made +in an hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and then she +no longer thought it necessary to sit out of the patient's sight. + +The consequence was that, in the middle of his ramblings, he broke off +and looked at her. The sister puzzled him. At last he called to her in +French. + +She made no reply. + +"Je suis a l'hopital, n'est ce pas bonne soeur?" + +"I am English," said she, softly. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +"ENGLISH!" said Sir Charles. "Then tell me, how did I come here? Where +am I?" + +"You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept quiet; and I am +here to nurse you." + +"A fit! Ay, I remember. That vile woman!" + +"Don't think of her: give your mind to getting well: remember, there is +somebody who would break her heart if you--" + +"Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving Bella!" He was so +weakened that he cried like a child. + +Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon the window-sill. + +"Why do I cry for her, like a great baby?" muttered Sir Charles. "She +wouldn't cry for me. She has cast me off in a moment." + +"Not she. It is her father's doing. Have a little patience. The whole +thing shall be explained to them; and then she will soon soften the old +man. 'It is not as if you were really to blame." + +"No more I was. It is all that vile woman." + +"Oh, don't! She is so sorry; she has taken it all to heart. She had +once shammed a fit, on the very place; and when you had a real fit +there--on the very spot--oh, it was so fearful--and lay like one dead, +she saw God's finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don't say anything +more against her just now. She is trying so hard to be good. And, +besides, it is all a mistake: she never told that old admiral; she +never breathed a word out of her own house. Her own people have +betrayed her and you. She has made me promise two things: to find out +who told the admiral, and--" + +"Well?" + +"The second thing I have to do--Well, that is a secret between me and +that unhappy woman. She is bad enough, but not so heartless as you +think." + +Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no more; and soon +after fell asleep. + +In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching. + +She now turned her head away from him, and asked him quietly to +describe Miss Bella Bruce to her. + +He described her in minute and glowing terms. "But oh, Sister," said +he, "it is not her beauty only, but the beauty of her mind. So gentle, +so modest, so timid, so docile. She would never have had the heart to +turn me off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward to obey +me, sweet dove." + +"Did she say so?" + +"Yes, that is her dream of happiness, to obey." + +The Sister still questioned him with averted head, and he told her what +had passed between Bella and him the last time he saw her, and all +their innocent plans of married happiness. He told her, with the tear +in his eye, and she listened, with the tear in hers. "And then," said +he, laying his hand on her shoulder, "is it not hard? I just went to +Mayfair, not to please myself, but to do an act of justice--of more +than justice; and then, for that, to have her door shut in my face. +Only two hours between the height of happiness and the depth of +misery." + +The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her hands, and +thought. + +The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the room, and said, +"You are to go home. The carriage is at the door." With this she +retired, and Sir Charles's valet entered the room soon after to help +him dress. + +"Where am I, James?" + +"Miss Somerset's house, Sir Charles." + +"Then get me out of it directly." + +"Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door." + +"Who told you to come, James?" + +"Miss Somerset, Sir Charles." + +"That is odd." + +"Yes, Sir Charles." + + + +When he got home he found a sofa placed by a fire, with wraps and +pillows; his cigar case laid out, and a bottle of salts, and also a +small glass of old cognac, in case of faintness. + +"Which of you had the gumption to do all this?" + +"Miss Somerset, Sir Charles." + +"What, has she been _here?"_ + +"Yes, Sir Charles." + +"Curse her!" + +"Yes, Sir Charles." + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"LOVE LIES BLEEDING." + +BELLA BRUCE was drinking the bitterest cup a young virgin soul can +taste. Illusion gone--the wicked world revealed as it is, how unlike +what she thought it was--love crushed in her, and not crushed out of +her, as it might if she had been either proud or vain. + +Frail men and women should see what a passionate but virtuous woman can +suffer, when a revelation, of which they think but little, comes and +blasts her young heart, and bids her dry up in a moment the deep well +of her affection, since it flows for an unworthy object, and flows in +vain. I tell you that the fair head severed from the chaste body is +nothing to her compared with this. The fair body, pierced with heathen +arrows, was nothing to her in the days of old compared with this. + +In a word--for nowadays we can but amplify, and so enfeeble, what some +old dead master of language, immortal though obscure, has said in words +of granite--here + + "Love lay bleeding." + +No fainting--no vehement weeping; but oh, such deep desolation; such +weariness of life; such a pitiable restlessness. Appetite gone; the +taste of food almost lost; sleep unwilling to come; and oh, the torture +of waking--for at that horrible moment all rushed back at once, the joy +that had been, the misery that was, the blank that was to come. + +She never stirred out, except when ordered, and then went like an +automaton. Pale, sorrow-stricken, and patient, she moved about, the +ghost of herself; and lay down a little, and then tried to work a +little, and then to read a little; and could settle to nothing but +sorrow and deep despondency. + +Not that she nursed her grief. She had been told to be brave, and she +tried. But her grief was her master. It came welling through her eyes +in a moment, of its own accord. + +She was deeply mortified too. But, in her gentle nature, anger could +play but a secondary part. Her indignation was weak beside her grief, +and did little to bear her up. + +Yet her sense of shame was vivid; and she tried hard not to let her +father see how deeply she loved the man who had gone from her to Miss +Somerset. Besides, he had ordered her to fight against a love that now +could only degrade her; he had ordered, and it was for her to obey. + +As soon as Sir Charles was better, he wrote her a long, humble letter, +owning that, before he knew her, he had led a free life; but assuring +her that, ever since that happy time, his heart and his time had been +solely hers; as to his visit to Miss Somerset, it had been one of +business merely, and this he could prove, if she would receive him. The +admiral could be present at that interview, and Sir Charles hoped to +convince him he had been somewhat hasty and harsh in his decision. + +Now the admiral had foreseen Sir Charles would write to her; so he had +ordered his man to bring all letters to him first. + +He recognized Sir Charles's hand, and brought the latter in to Bella. +"Now, my child," said he, "be brave. Here is a letter from that man." + +"Oh, papa! I thought he would. I knew he would." And the pale face was +flushed with joy and hope all in a moment. + +"Do what?" + +"Write and explain." + +"Explain? A thing that is clear as sunshine. He has written to throw +dust in your eyes again. You are evidently in no state to judge. _I_ +shall read this letter first." + +"Yes, papa," said Bella, faintly. + +He did read it, and she devoured his countenance all the time. + +"There is nothing in it. He offers no real explanation, but only says +he can explain, and asks for an interview--to play upon your weakness. +If I give you this letter, it will only make you cry, and render your +task more difficult. I must be strong for your good, and set you an +example. I loved this young man too; but, now I know him"--then he +actually thrust the letter into the fire. + +But this was too much. Bella shrieked at the act, and put her hand to +her heart, and shrieked again. "Ah! you'll kill us, you'll kill us +both!" she cried. "Poor Charles! Poor Bella! You don't love your +child--you have no pity." And, for the first time, her misery was +violent. She writhed and wept, and at last went into violent hysterics, +and frightened that stout old warrior more than cannon had ever +frightened him; and presently she became quiet, and wept at his knees, +and begged his forgiveness, and said he was wiser than she was, and she +would obey him in everything, only he must not be angry with her if she +could not live. + +Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, and began to +realize what deep waters of affliction his girl was wading in. + +Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to Sir Charles to say that +his daughter was too ill to write; but that no explanation was +possible, and no interview could be allowed. + +Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the most sanguine hopes, +was now as wretched as Bella. Only, now that he was refused a hearing, +he had wounded pride to support him a little under wounded love. + +Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter's health, and even for her +life--she pined so visibly--now ordered her to divide her day into +several occupations, and exact divisions of time--an hour for this, an +hour for that; an hour by the clock--and here he showed practical +wisdom. Try it, ye that are very unhappy, and tell me the result. + +As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk round the square +from eleven to twelve A. M., but never alone; he was not going to have +Sir Charles surprising her into an interview. He always went with her, +and, as he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she had to +walk in sight. He took a stout stick with him--for Sir Charles. But Sir +Charles was proud, and stayed at home with his deep wound. + +One day, walking round the square with a step of Mercury and heart of +lead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of Charity pacing slow and thoughtful; +their eyes met and drank, in a moment, every feature of each other. + +The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on that fair face; +for the next time they met, she eyed her with a certain sympathy, which +did not escape Bella. + +This subtle interchange took place several times and Bella could not +help feeling a little grateful. "Ah!" she thought to herself, "how kind +religious people are! I should like to speak to her." And the next time +they met she looked wistfully in the Sister's face. + +She did not meet her again, for she went and rested on a bench, in +sight of her father, but at some distance from him. Unconsciously to +herself, his refusal even to hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was so +hard on him and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, the +last little chance of happiness. + +By-and-by the Sister came and sat on the same bench. + +Bella was hardly surprised, but blushed high, for she felt that her own +eyes had invited the sympathy of a stranger; and now it seemed to be +coming. The timid girl felt uneasy. The Sister saw that, and approached +her with tact. "You look unwell," said she, gently, but with no +appearance of extravagant interest or curiosity. + +"I am--a little," said Bella, very reservedly. + +"Excuse my remarking it. We are professional nurses, and apt to be a +little officious, I fear." + +No reply. + +"I saw you were unwell. But I hope it is not serious. I can generally +tell when the sick are in danger." A peculiar look. "I am glad not to +see it in so young and--good a face." + +"You are young, too; very young, and--" she was going to say +"beautiful," but she was too shy--"to be a Sister of Charity. But I am +sure you never regret leaving such a world as this is." + +"Never. I have lost the only thing I ever valued in it." + +"I have no right to ask you what that was." + +"You shall know without asking. One I loved proved unworthy." + +The Sister sighed deeply, and then, hiding her face with her hands for +a moment, rose abruptly, and left the square, ashamed, apparently, of +having been betrayed into such a confession. + +Bella, when she was twenty yards off, put out a timid hand, as if to +detain her; but she had not the courage to say anything of the kind. + +She never told her father a word. She had got somebody now who could +sympathize with her better than he could. + +Next day the Sister was there, and Bella bowed to her when she met her. +This time it was the Sister who went and sat on the bench. + +Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last could not resist +the temptation. She came and sat down on the bench, and blushed; as +much as to say, "I have the courage to come, but not to speak upon a +certain subject, which shall be nameless." + +The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy. She opened a +conversation. "I committed a fault yesterday. I spoke to you of myself, +and of the past: it is discouraged by our rules. We are bound to +inquire the griefs of others; not to tell our own." + +This was a fair opening, but Bella was too delicate to show her wounds +to a fresh acquaintance. + +The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very different. + +"But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. Some time ago I +nursed a gentleman whom love had laid on a sick-bed." + +"A gentleman! What! can they love as we do?" said Bella, bitterly. + +"Not many of them; but this was an exception. But I don't know whether +I ought to tell these secrets to so young a lady." + +"Oh, yes--please--what else is there in this world worth talking about? +Tell me about the poor man who could love as we can." + +The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go on. + +"Well, he was a man of the world, and he had not always been a good +man; but he was trying to be. He had fallen in love with a young lady, +and seen the beauty of virtue, and was going to marry her and lead a +good life. But he was a man of honor, and there was a lady for whom he +thought it was his duty to provide. He set his lawyer to draw a deed, +and his lawyer appointed a day for signing it at her house. The poor +man came because his lawyer told him. Do you think there was any great +harm in that?" + +"No; of course not." + +"Well, then, he lost his love for that." + +Miss Bruce's color began to come and go, and her supple figure to +crouch a little. She said nothing. + +The Sister continued: "Some malicious person went and told the young +lady's father the gentleman was in the habit of visiting that lady, and +would be with her at a certain hour. And so he was; but it was the +lawyer's appointment, you know. You seem agitated." + +"No, no; not agitated," said Bella, "but astonished; it is so like a +story I know. A young lady, a friend of mine, had an anonymous letter, +telling her that one she loved and esteemed was unworthy. But what you +have told me shows me how deceitful appearances may be. What was your +patient's name?" + +"It is against our rules to tell that. But you said an 'anonymous +letter.' Was your friend so weak as to believe an anonymous letter? The +writer of such a letter is a coward, and a coward always is a liar. +Show me your friend's anonymous letter. I may, perhaps, be able to +throw a light on it." + +The conversation was interrupted by Admiral Bruce, who had approached +them unobserved. "Excuse me," said he, "but you ladies seem to have hit +upon a very interesting theme." + +"Yes, papa," said Bella. "I took the liberty to question this lady as +to her experiences of sick-beds, and she was good enough to give me +some of them." + +Having uttered this with a sudden appearance of calmness that first +amazed the Sister, then made her smile, she took her father's arm, +bowed politely, and a little stiffly, to her new friend, and drew the +admiral away. + +"Oh!" thought the Sister. "I am not to speak to the old gentleman. He +is not in her confidence. Yet she is very fond of him. How she hangs on +his arm! Simplicity! Candor! We are all tarred with the same stick--we +women." + +That night Bella was a changed girl--exalted and depressed by turns, +and with no visible reason. + +Her father was pleased. Anything better than that deadly languor. + +The next day Bella sat by her father's side in the square, longing to +go to the Sister, yet patiently waiting to be ordered. + +At last the admiral, finding her dull and listless, said, "Why don't +you go and talk to the Sister? She amuses you. I'll join you when I +have smoked this cigar." + +The obedient Bella rose, and went toward the Sister as if compelled. +But when she got to her her whole manner changed. She took her warmly +by the hand, and said, trembling and blushing, and all on fire, "I have +brought you the anonymous letter." + +The elder actress took it and ran her eye over it--an eye that now +sparkled like a diamond. "Humph!" said she, and flung off all the +dulcet tones of her assumed character with mighty little ceremony. +"This hand is disguised a little, but I think I know it. I am sure I +do! The dirty little rascal!" + +"Madam!" cried Bella, aghast with surprise at this language. + +"I tell you I know the writer and his rascally motive. You must lend me +this for a day or two." + +"Must I?" said Bella. "Excuse me! Papa would be so angry." + +"Very likely; but you will lend it to me for all that; for with this I +can clear Miss Bruce's lover and defeat his enemies." + +Bella uttered a faint cry, and trembled, and her bosom heaved +violently. She looked this way and that, like a frightened deer. "But +papa? His eye is on us." + +"Never deceive your father!" said the Sister, almost sternly; "but," +darting her gray eyes right into those dove-like orbs, "give me five +minutes' start--IF YOU REALLY LOVE SIR CHARLES BASSETT." + +With these words she carried off the letter; and Bella ran, blushing, +panting, trembling, to her father, and clung to him. + +He questioned her, but could get nothing from her very intelligible +until the Sister was out of sight, and then she told him all without +reserve. + +"I was unworthy of him to doubt him. An anonymous slander. I'll never +trust appearances again. Poor Charles! Oh, my darling! what he must +have suffered if he loves like me." Then came a shower of happy tears; +then a shower of happy kisses. + +The admiral groaned, but for a long time he could not get a word in. +When he did it was chilling. "My poor girl," said he, "this unhappy +love blinds you. What, don't you see the woman is no nun, but some sly +hussy that man has sent to throw dust in your eyes?" + +Nothing she could say prevailed to turn him from this view, and he +acted upon it with resolution: he confined her excursions to a little +garden at the back of the house, and forbade her, on any pretense, to +cross the threshold. + +Miss Somerset came to the square in another disguise, armed with +important information. But no Bella Bruce appeared to meet her. + + + +All this time Richard Bassett was happy as a prince. + +So besotted was he with egotism, and so blinded by imaginary wrongs, +that he rejoiced in the lovers' separation, rejoiced in his cousin's +attack. + +Polly, who now regarded him almost as a lover, told him all about it; +and already in anticipation he saw himself and his line once more lords +of the two manors--Bassett and Huntercombe--on the demise of Sir +Charles Bassett, Bart., deceased without issue. + +And, in fact, Sir Charles was utterly defeated. He lay torpid. + +But there was a tough opponent in the way--all the more dangerous that +she was not feared. + +One fine day Miss Somerset electrified her groom by ordering her pony +carriage to the door at ten A. M. + +She took the reins on the pavement, like a man, jumped in light as a +feather, and away rattled the carriage into the City. The ponies were +all alive, the driver's eye keen as a bird's; her courage and her +judgment equal. She wound in and out among the huge vehicles with +perfect composure; and on those occasions when, the traffic being +interrupted, the oratorical powers were useful to fill up the time, she +shone with singular brilliance. The West End is too often in debt to +the City, but, in the matter of chaff, it was not so this day; for +whenever she took a peck she returned a bushel; and so she rattled to +the door of Solomon Oldfield, solicitor, Old Jewry. + +She penetrated into the inner office of that worthy, and told him he +must come with her that minute to Portman Square. + +"Impossible, madam!" And, as they say in the law reports, gave his +reasons. + +"Certain, sir!" And gave no reasons. + +He still resisted. + +Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day and chaff his +clients one after another, and that his connection with the Bassett and +Huntercombe estates should end. + +Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and consented, with a sigh. + +She drove him westward, wincing every now and then at her close +driving, and told him all, and showed him what she was pleased to call +her little game. He told her it was too romantic. Said he, "You ladies +read nothing but novels; but the real world is quite different from the +world of novels." Having delivered this remonstrance--which was +tolerably just, for she never read anything but novels and sermons--he +submitted like a lamb, and received her instructions. + +She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time they were at +Admiral Bruce's door. + +Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. "Mr. Oldfield, +solicitor, and a lady--on business." + +The porter delivered this to the footman with the accuracy which all +who send verbal messages deserve and may count on. "Mr. Oldfield and +lady." + +The footman, who represented the next step in oral tradition, without +which form of history the Heathen world would never have known that +Hannibal softened the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world that +eleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the size of Putney, +announced the pair as "Mr. and Mrs. Hautville." + +"I don't know them, I think. Well, I will see them." + +They entered, and the admiral stared a little, and wondered how this +couple came together--the keen but plain old man, with clothes hanging +on him, and the dashing beauty, with her dress in the height of the +fashion, and her gauntleted hands. However, he bowed ceremoniously, and +begged his visitors to be seated. + +Now the folding-doors were ajar, and the _soi-disant_ Mrs. Oldfield +peeped. She saw Bella Bruce at some distance, seated by the fire, in a +reverie. + +Judge that young lady's astonishment when she looked up and observed a +large white, well-shaped hand, sparkling with diamonds and rubies, +beckoning her furtively. + + + +The owner of that sparkling hand soon heard a soft rustle of silk come +toward the door; the very rustle, somehow, was eloquent, and betrayed +love and timidity, and something innocent yet subtle. The jeweled hand +went in again directly. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MEANTIME Mr. Oldfield began to tell the admiral who he was, and that he +was come to remove a false impression about a client of his, Sir +Charles Bassett. + +"That, sir," said the admiral, sternly, "is a name we never mention +here." + +He rose and went to the folding-doors, and deliberately closed them. + +The Somerset, thus defeated, bit her lip, and sat all of a heap, like a +cat about to spring, looking sulky and vicious. + +Mr. Oldfield persisted, and, as he took the admiral's hint and lowered +his voice, he was interrupted no more, but made a simple statement of +those facts which are known to the reader. + +Admiral Bruce heard them, and admitted that the case was not quite so +bad as he had thought. + +Then Mr. Oldfield proposed that Sir Charles should be re-admitted. + +"No," said the old admiral, firmly; "turn it how you will, it is too +ugly; the bloom of the thing is gone. Why should my daughter take that +woman's leavings? Why should I give her pure heart to a man about +town?" + +"Because you will break it else," said Miss Somerset, with affected +politeness. + +"Give her credit for more dignity, madam, if you please," replied +Admiral Bruce, with equal politeness. + +"Oh, bother dignity!" cried the Somerset. + +At this free phrase from so well-dressed a lady Admiral Bruce opened +his eyes, and inquired of Oldfield, rather satirically, who was this +lady that did him the honor to interfere in his family affairs. + +Oldfield looked confused; but Somerset, full of mother-wit, was not to +be caught napping. "I'm a by-stander; and they always see clearer than +the folk themselves. You are a man of honor, sir, and you are very +clever at sea, no doubt, and a fighter, and all that; but you are no +match for land-sharks. You are being made a dupe and a tool of. Who do +you think wrote that anonymous letter to your daughter? A friend of +truth? a friend of injured innocence? Nothing of the sort. One Richard +Bassett--Sir Charles's cousin. Here, Mr. Oldfield, please compare these +two handwritings closely, and you will see I am right." She put down +the anonymous letter and Richard Bassett's letter to herself; but she +could not wait for Mr. Oldfield to compare the documents, now her +tongue was set going. "Yes, gentlemen, this is new to you; but you'll +find that little scheming rascal wrote them both, and with as base a +motive and as black a heart as any other anonymous coward's. His game +is to make Sir Charles Bassett die childless, and so then this dirty +fellow would inherit the estate; and owing to you being so green, and +swallowing an anonymous letter like pure water from the spring, he very +nearly got his way. Sir Charles has been at death's door along of all +this." + +"Hush, madam! not so loud, please," whispered Admiral Bruce, looking +uneasily toward the folding, doors. + +"Why not?" bawled the Somerset. "THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T +BE SHAMED. I tell you that your precious letter brought Sir Charles +Bassett to the brink of the grave. Soon as ever he got it he came +tearing in his cab to Miss Somerset's house, and accused her of telling +the lie to keep him--and he might have known better, for the jade never +did a sneaking thing in her life. But, any way, he thought it must be +her doing, miscalled her like a dog, and raged at her dreadful, and at +last--what with love and fury and despair--he had the terriblest fit +you ever saw. He fell down as black as your hat, and his eyes rolled, +and his teeth gnashed, and he foamed at the mouth, and took four to +hold him; and presently as white as a ghost, and given up for dead. No +pulse for hours; and when his life came back his reason was gone." + +"Good Heavens, madam!" + +"For a time it was. How he did rave! and 'Bella' the only name on his +lips. And now he lies in his own house as weak as water. Come, old +gentleman, don't you be too hard; you are not a child, like your +daughter; take the world as it is. Do you think you will ever find a +man of fortune who has not had a lady friend? Why, every single +gentleman in London that can afford to keep a saddle-horse has an +article of that sort in some corner or other; and if he parts with her +as soon as his banns are cried, that is all you can expect. Do you +think any mother in Belgravia would make a row about that? They are +downier than you are; they would shrug their aristocratic shoulders, +and decline to listen to the _past_ lives of their sons-in-law--unless +it was all in the newspapers, mind you." + +"If Belgravian mothers have mercenary minds, that is no reason why I +should, whose cheeks have bronzed in the service of a virtuous queen, +and whose hairs have whitened in honor." + +On receiving this broadside the Somerset altered her tone directly, and +said, obsequiously: "That is true, sir, and I beg your pardon for +comparing you to the trash. But brave men are pitiful, you know. Then +show your pity here. Pity a gentleman that repented his faults as soon +as your daughter showed him there was a better love within reach, and +now lies stung by an anonymous viper, and almost dying of love and +mortification; and pity your own girl, that will soon lose her health, +and perhaps her life, if you don't give in." + +"She is not so weak, madam. She is in better spirits already." + +"Ay, but then she didn't know what he had suffered for _her._ She does +now, for I heard her moan; and she will die for him now, or else she +will give you twice as many kisses as usual some day, and cry a +bucketful over you, and then run away with her lover. I know women +better than you do; I am one of the precious lot." + +The admiral replied only with a look of superlative scorn. This +incensed the Somerset; and that daring woman, whose ear was nearer to +the door, and had caught sounds that escaped the men, actually turned +the handle, and while her eye flashed defiance, her vigorous foot +spurned the folding-doors wide open in half a moment. + +Bella Bruce lay with her head sidewise on the table, and her hands +extended, moaning and sobbing piteously for poor Sir Charles. + +"For shame, madam, to expose my child," cried the admiral, bursting +with indignation and grief. He rushed to her and took her in his arms. + +She scarcely noticed him, for the moment he turned her she caught sight +of Miss Somerset, and recognized her face in a moment. "Ah! the Sister +of Charity!" she cried, and stretched out her hands to her, with a look +and a gesture so innocent, confiding, and imploring, that the Somerset, +already much excited by her own eloquence, took a turn not uncommon +with termagants, and began to cry herself. + +But she soon stopped that, for she saw her time was come to go, and +avoid unpleasant explanations. She made a dart and secured the two +letters. "Settle it among yourselves," said she, wheeling round and +bestowing this advice on the whole party; then shot a sharp arrow at +the admiral as she fled: "If you must be a tool of Richard Bassett, +don't be a tool and a dupe by halves. _He_ is in love with her too. +Marry her to the blackguard, and then you will be sure to kill Sir +Charles." Having delivered this with such volubility that the words +pattered out like a roll of musketry, she flounced out, with red cheeks +and wet eyes, rushed down the stairs, and sprang into her carriage, +whipped the ponies, and away at a pace that made the spectators stare. + +Mr. Oldfield muttered some excuses, and retired more sedately. + +All this set Bella Bruce trembling and weeping, and her father was some +time before he could bring her to anything like composure. Her first +words, when she could find breath, were, "He is innocent; he is +unhappy. Oh, that I could fly to him!" + +"Innocent! What proof?" + +"That brave lady said so." + +"Brave lady! A bold hussy. Most likely a friend of the woman Somerset, +and a bird of the same feather. Sir Charles has done himself no good +with me by sending such an emissary." + +"No, papa; it was the lawyer brought her, and then her own good heart +_made her burst out._ Ah! she is not like me: she has courage. What a +noble thing courage is, especially in a woman!" + +"Pray did you hear the language of this noble lady?" + +"Every word nearly; and I shall never forget them. They were diamonds +and pearls." + +"Of the sort you can pick up at Billingsgate." + +"Ah, papa, she pleaded for _him_ as I cannot plead, and yet I love him. +It was true eloquence. Oh, how she made me shudder! Only think: he had +a fit, and lost his reason, and all for me. What shall I do? What shall +I do?" + +This brought on a fit of weeping. + +Her father pitied her, and gave her a crumb of sympathy: said he was +sorry for Sir Charles. + +"But," said he, recovering his resolution, "it cannot be helped. He +must expiate his vices, like other men. Do, pray, pluck up a little +spirit and sense. Now try and keep to the point. This woman came from +him; and you say you heard her language, and admire it. Quote me some +of it." + +"She said he fell down as black as his hat, and his eyes rolled, and +his poor teeth gnashed, and--oh, my darling! my darling! oh! oh! oh!" + +"There--there--I mean about other things." + +Bella complied, but with a running accompaniment of the sweetest little +sobs. + +"She said I must be very green, to swallow an anonymous letter like +spring water. Oh! oh!" + +"Green? There was a word!" + +"Oh! oh! But it is the right word. You can't mend it. Try, and you will +see you can't. Of course I was green. Oh! And she said every gentleman +who can afford to keep a saddle-horse has a female friend, till his +banns are called in church. Oh! oh!" + +"A pretty statement to come to your ears!" + +"But if it is the truth! 'THE TRUTH MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAN'T BE +SHAMED.' Ah! I'll not forget that: I'll pray every night I may remember +those words of the brave lady. Oh!" + +"Yes, take her for your oracle." + +"I mean to. I always try to profit by my superiors. She has courage: I +have none. I beat about the bush, and talk skim-milk; she uses the very +word. She said we have been the dupe and the tool of a little scheming +rascal, an anonymous coward, with motives as base as his heart is +black--oh! oh! Ay, that is the way to speak of such a man; I can't do +it myself, but I reverence the brave lady who can. And she wasn't +afraid even of you, dear papa. 'Come, old gentleman'--ha! ha! +ha!--'take the world as it is; Belgravian mothers would not break +_both_ their hearts for what is past and gone.' What hard good sense! a +thing I always _did_ admire: because I've got none. But her _heart_ is +not hard; after all her words of fire, that went so straight instead of +beating the bush, she ended by crying for me. Oh! oh! oh! Bless her! +Bless her! If ever there was a good woman in the world, that is one. +She was not born a lady, I am afraid; but that is nothing: she was born +a woman, and I mean to make her acquaintance, and take her for my +example in all things. No, dear papa, women are not so pitiful to women +without cause. She is almost a stranger, yet she cried for me. Can you +be harder to me than she is? No; pity your poor girl, who will lose her +health, and perhaps her life. Pity poor Charles, stung by an anonymous +viper, and laid on a bed of sickness for me. Oh! oh! oh!" + +"I do pity you, Bella. When you cry like this, my heart bleeds." + +"I'll try not to cry, papa. Oh! oh!" + +"But most of all, I pity your infatuation, your blindness. Poor, +innocent dove, that looks at others by the light of her own goodness, +and so sees all manner of virtues in a brazen hussy. Now answer me one +plain question. You called her 'the Sister!' Is she not the same woman +that played the Sister of Charity?" + +Bella blushed to the temples, and said, hesitatingly, she was not quite +sure. + +"Come, Bella. I thought you were going to imitate the jade, and not +beat about the bush. Yes or no?" + +"The features are very like." + +"Bella, you know it is the same woman. You recognized her in a moment. +That speaks volumes. But she shall find I am not to be made 'a dupe and +a tool of' quite so easily as she thinks. I'll tell you what--this is +some professional actress Sir Charles has hired to waylay you. Little +simpleton!" + +He said no more at that time; but after dinner he ruminated, and took a +very serious, indeed almost a maritime, view of the crisis. "I'm +overmatched now," thought he. "They will cut my sloop out under the +very guns of the flagship if we stay much longer in this port--a lawyer +against me, and a woman too; there's nothing to be done but heave +anchor, hoist sail, and run for it." + +He sent off a foreign telegram, and then went upstairs. "Bella, my +dear," said he, "pack up your clothes for a journey. We start +to-morrow." + +"A journey, papa! A long one?" + +"No. We shan't double the Horn this time." + +"Brighton? Paris?" + +"Oh, farther than that." + +"The grave: that is the journey I should like to take." + + "So you shall, some day; but just now it is a _foreign_ port you are +bound for. Go and pack." + +"I obey." And she was creeping off, but he called her back and kissed +her, and said, "Now I'll tell you where you are going; but you must +promise me solemnly not to write one line to Sir Charles." + +She promised, but cried as soon as she had promised; whereat the +admiral inferred he had done wisely to exact the promise. + +"Well, my dear," said he, "we are going to Baden. Your aunt Molineux is +there. She is a woman of great delicacy and prudence, and has daughters +of her own all well married, thanks to her motherly care. She will +bring you to your senses better than I can." + +Next evening they left England by the mail; and the day after Richard +Bassett learned this through his servant, and went home triumphant, +and, indeed, wondering at his success. He ascribed it, however, to the +Nemesis which dogs the heels of those who inherit the estate of +another. + +Such was the only moral reflection he made, though the business in +general, and particularly his share in it, admitted of several. + + Miss Somerset also heard of it, and told Mr. Oldfield; he told Sir +Charles Bassett. + +That gentleman sighed deeply, and said nothing. He had lost all hope. + + + +The whole matter appeared stagnant for about ten days; and then a +delicate hand stirred the dead waters cautiously. Mr. Oldfield, of all +people in the world, received a short letter from Bella Bruce. + + + +"Konigsberg Hotel, BADEN. + +"Miss Bruce presents her compliments to Mr. Oldfield, and will feel +much obliged if he will send her the name and address of that brave +lady who accompanied him to her father's house. + +"Miss Bruce desires to thank that lady, personally, for her noble +defense of one with whom it would be improper for her to communicate; +but she can never be indifferent to his welfare, nor hear of his +sufferings without deep sorrow." + + + +"Confound it!" said Solomon Oldfield. "What am I to do? I mustn't tell +her it is Miss Somerset." So the wary lawyer had a copy of the letter +made, and sent to Miss Somerset for instructions. + +Miss Somerset sent for Mr. Marsh, who was now more at her beck and call +than ever, and told him she had a ticklish letter to write. "I can talk +with the best," said she, "but the moment I sit down and take up a pen +something cold runs up my shoulder, and then down my backbone, and I'm +palsied; now you are always writing, and can't say 'Bo' to a goose in +company. Let us mix ourselves; I'll walk about and speak my mind, and +then you put down the cream, and send it." + +From this ingenious process resulted the following composition: + + + +"She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call 'the brave lady' happened +to know the truth, and that tempted her to try and baffle an anonymous +slanderer, who was ruining the happiness of a lady and gentleman. Being +a person of warm impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishes +to retire into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce's desire to +know her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but at present +she must deny herself that honor. If her reasons were known, Miss Bruce +would not be offended nor hurt; she would entirely approve them." + + + +Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, disconsolate, +his servant told him a lady wanted to see him. + +"Who is it?" + +"Don't know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort of a nun, Sir +Charles." + +"Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that nursed me. Admit her, by +all means." + +The Sister came in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received her +with profound respect, and thanked her, with some little hesitation, +for her kind attention to him. She stopped him by saying that was +merely her duty. "But," said she, softly, "words fell from you, on the +bed of sickness, that touched my heart; and besides I happen to know +the lady." + +"You know my Bella!" cried Sir Charles. "Ah, then no wonder you speak +so kindly; you can feel what I have lost. She has left England to avoid +me." + +"All the better. Where she is the door cannot be closed in your face. +She is at Baden. Follow her there. She has heard the truth from Mr. +Oldfield, and she knows who wrote the anonymous letter." + +"And who did?" + +"Mr. Richard Bassett." + +This amazed Sir Charles. + +"The scoundrel!" said he, after a long silence. + +"Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you, for his own ends? I would +go at once to Baden. Your leaving England would be one more proof to +her that she has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you will +win her, I tell you." + +These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He rose from his chair, +flushed with sudden hope and ardor. "I'll leave for Baden to-morrow +morning." + +The Sister rose to retire. + +"No, no," cried Sir Charles. "I have not thanked you. I ought to go +down on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?" + +"No matter, sir." + +"But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and now +you give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust me +with your name?" + +"We have no name." + +"Your voice at times sounds very like--no, I will not affront you by +such a comparison." + +"I'm her sister," said she, like lightning. + +This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent and +uncomfortable. It gave him a chill. + +The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. + +Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. "It +must be as beautiful as your heart." + +The Sister shook her head. "My face has been disfigured by a frightful +disorder." + +Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity. + +"I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me as you seem to do. +But perhaps it will not always be so." + +"I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. Can I do nothing for +you, who have done so much for me?" + +"Nothing--unless--" said she, feigning vast timidity, "you could spare +me that ring of yours, as a remembrance of the part I have played in +this affair." + +Sir Charles colored. It was a ruby of the purest water, and had been +two centuries in his family. He colored, but was too fine a gentleman +to hesitate. He said, "By all means. But it is a poor thing to offer +_you."_ + +"I shall value it very much." + +"Say no more. I am fortunate in having anything you deign to accept." + +And so the ring changed hands. + +The Sister now put it on her middle finger, and held up her hand, and +her bright eyes glanced at it, through her veil, with that delight +which her sex in general feel at the possession of a new bauble. She +recovered herself, however, and told him, soberly, the ring should +return to his family at her death, if not before. + +"I will give you a piece of advice for it," said she. "Miss Bruce has +foxy hair; and she is very timid. Don't you take her advice about +commanding her. She would like to be your slave! Don't let her. Coax +her to speak her mind. Make a friend of her. Don't you put her to +this--that she must displease you, or else deceive you. She might +choose wrong, especially with that colored hair." + +"It is not in her nature to deceive." + +"It is not in her nature to displease. Excuse me; I am too fanciful, +and look at women too close. But I know your happiness depends on her. +All your eggs are in that one basket. Well, I have told you how to +carry the basket. Good-by." + +Sir Charles saw her out, and bowed respectfully to her in the hall, +while his servant opened the street door. He did her this homage as his +benefactress. + + + +When admiral and Miss Bruce reached Baden Mrs. Molineux was away on a +visit; and this disappointed Admiral Bruce, who had counted on her +assistance to manage and comfort Bella. Bella needed the latter very +much. A glance at her pale, pensive, lovely face was enough to show +that sorrow was rooted at her heart. She was subjected to no restraint, +but kept the house of her own accord, thinking, as persons of her age +are apt to do, that her whole history must be written in her face. +Still, of course, she did go out sometimes; and one cold but bright +afternoon she was strolling languidly on the parade, when all in a +moment she met Sir Charles Bassett face to face. + +She gave an eloquent scream, and turned pale a moment, and then the hot +blood came rushing, and then it retired, and she stood at bay, with +heaving bosom--and great eyes. + +Sir Charles held out both hands pathetically. "Don't you be afraid of +me." + +When she found he was so afraid of offending her she became more +courageous. "How dare you come here?" said she, but with more curiosity +than violence, for it had been her dream of hope he would come. + +"How could I keep away, when I heard you were here?" + +"You must not speak to me, sir; I am forbidden." + +"Pray do not condemn me unheard." + +"If I listen to you I shall believe you. I won't hear a word. Gentlemen +can do things that ladies cannot even speak about. Talk to my aunt +Molineux; our fate depends on her. This will teach you not to be so +wicked. What business have gentlemen to be so wicked? Ladies are not. +No, it is no use; I will not hear a syllable. I am ashamed to be seen +speaking to you. You are a bad character. Oh, Charles, is it true you +had a fit?" + +"Yes." + +"And have you been very ill? You look ill." + +"I am better now, dearest." + +"Dearest! Don't call me names. How dare you keep speaking to me when I +request you not?" + +"But I can't excuse myself, and obtain my pardon, and recover your +love, unless I am allowed to speak." + +"Oh, you can speak to my aunt Molineux, and she will read you a fine +lesson." + +"Where is she?" + +"Nobody knows. But there is her house, the one with the iron gate. Get +her ear first, if you really love me; and don't you ever waylay me +again. If you do, I shall say something rude to you, sir. Oh, I'm so +happy!" + +Having let this out, she hid her face with her hands, and fled like the +very wind. + +At dinner-time she was in high spirits. + +The admiral congratulated her. + +"Brava, Bell! Youth and health and a foreign air will soon cure you of +that folly." + +Bella blushed deeply, and said nothing. The truth struggled within her, +too, but she shrank from giving pain, and receiving expostulation. + +She kept the house, though, for two days, partly out of modesty, partly +out of an honest and pious desire to obey her father as much as she +could. + +The third day Mrs. Molineux arrived, and sent over to the admiral. + +He invited Bella to come with him. She consented eagerly, but was so +long in dressing that he threatened to go without her. She implored him +not to do that; and after a monstrous delay, the motive of which the +reader may perhaps divine, father and daughter called on Mrs. Molineux. +She received them very affectionately. But when the admiral, with some +hesitation, began to enter on the great subject, she said, quietly, +"Bella, my dear, go for a walk, and come back to me in half an hour." + +"Aunt Molineux!" said Bella, extending both her hands imploringly to +that lady. + +Mrs. Molineux was proof against this blandishment, and Bella had to go. + +When she was gone, this lady, who both as wife and mother was literally +a model, rather astonished her brother the admiral. She said: "I am +sorry to tell you that you have conducted this matter with perfect +impropriety, both you and Bella. She had no business to show you that +anonymous letter; and when she did show it you, you should have taken +it from her, and told her not to believe a word of it." + +"And married my daughter to a libertine! Why, Charlotte, I am ashamed +of you." + +Mrs. Molineux colored high; but she kept her temper, and ignored the +interruption. "Then, if you decided to go into so indelicate a question +at all (and really you were not bound to do so on anonymous +information), why, then, you should have sent for Sir Charles, and +given him the letter, and put him on his honor to tell you the truth. +He would have told you the fact, instead of a garbled version; and the +fact is that before he knew Bella he had a connection, which he +prepared to dissolve, on terms very honorable to himself, as soon as he +engaged himself to your daughter. What is there in that? Why, it is +common, universal, among men of fashion. I am so vexed it ever came to +Bella's knowledge: really it is dreadful to me, as a mother, that such +a thing should have been discussed before that child. Complete +innocence means complete ignorance; and that is how all my girls went +to their husbands. However, what we must do now is to tell her Sir +Charles has satisfied me he was not to blame; and after that the +subject must never be recurred to. Sir Charles has promised me never to +mention it, and no more shall Bella. And now, my dear John, let me +congratulate you. Your daughter has a high-minded lover, who adores +her, with a fine estate: he has been crying to me, poor fellow, as men +will to a woman of my age; and if you have any respect for my +judgment--ask him to dinner." + +She added that it might be as well if, after dinner, he were to take a +little nap. + +Admiral Bruce did not fall into these views without discussion. I spare +the reader the dialogue, since he yielded at last; only he stipulated +that his sister should do the dinner, and the subsequent siesta. + +Bella returned looking very wistful and anxious. + +"Come here, niece," said Mrs. Molineux. "Kneel you at my knee. Now +look--me in the face. Sir Charles has loved you, and you only, from the +day he first saw you. He loves you now as much as ever. Do you love +him?" + +"Oh, aunt! aunt!" A shower of kisses, and a tear or two. + +"That is enough. Then dry your eyes, and dress your beautiful hair a +little better than _that;_ for he dines with me to-day!" + +Who so bright and happy now as Bella Bruce? + + + +The dreaded aunt did not stop there. She held that after the peep into +real life Bella Bruce had obtained, for want of a mother's vigilance, +she ought to be a wife as soon as possible. So she gave Sir Charles a +hint that Baden was a very good place to be married in; and from that +moment Sir Charles gave Bella and her father no rest till they +consented. + +Little did Richard Bassett, in England, dream what was going on at +Baden. He now surveyed the chimneys of Huntercombe Hall with +resignation, and even with growing complacency, as chimneys that would +one day be his, since their owner would not be in a hurry to love +again. He shot Sir Charles's pheasants whenever they strayed into his +hedgerows, and he lived moderately and studied health. In a word, +content with the result of his anonymous letter, he confined himself +now to cannily out-living the wrongful heir--his cousin. + +One fine frosty day the chimneys of Huntercombe began to show signs of +life; vertical columns of blue smoke rose in the air, one after +another, till at last there were about forty going. + +Old servants flowed down from London. New ones trickled in, with their +boxes, from the country. Carriages were drawn out into the stable-yard, +horses exercised, and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to live +on his estates, and not alone. + +Richard Bassett went about inquiring cautiously. + +The rumor spread and was confirmed by some little facts. + +At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all smoking, the +church-bells began to peal. + +Richard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply. He found the +village all agog with expectation. + +Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and a flag floated +from the top of Huntercombe House. Murmurs. Distant cheers. Approaching +cheers. The clatter of horses' feet. The roll of wheels. Huntercombe +gates flung wide open by a cluster of grooms and keepers. + +Then on came two outriders, ushered by loud hurrahs, and followed by a +carriage and four that dashed through the village amid peals of delight +from the villagers. The carriage was open, and in it sat Sir Charles +and Bella Bassett. She was lovelier than ever; she dazzled the very air +with her beauty and her glorious hair. The hurrahs of the villagers +made her heart beat; she pressed Sir Charles's hand tenderly, and +literally shone with joy and pride; and so she swept past Richard +Bassett; she saw him directly, shuddered a moment, and half clung to +her husband; then on again, and passed through the open gates amid loud +cheers. She alighted in her own hall, and walked, nodding and smiling +sunnily, through two files of domestics and retainers; and thought no +more of Richard Bassett than some bright bird that has flown over a +rattlesnake and glanced down at him. + + + +But a gorgeous bird cannot always be flying. A snake can sometimes +creep under her perch, and glare, and keep hissing, till she shudders +and droops and lays her plumage in the dust. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +GENERALLY deliberate crimes are followed by some great punishment; but +they are also often attended in their course by briefer +chastisements--single strokes from the whip that holds the round dozen +in reserve. These precursors of the grand expiation are sharp but +kindly lashes, for they tend to whip the man out of the wrong road. + +Such a stroke fell on Richard Bassett: he saw Bella Bruce sweep past +him, clinging to her husband, and shuddering at himself. For this, +then, he had plotted and intrigued and written an anonymous letter. The +only woman he had ever loved at all went past him with a look of +aversion, and was his enemy's wife, and would soon be the mother of +that enemy's children, and blot him forever out of the coveted +inheritance. + +The man crept home, and sat by his little fireside, crushed. Indeed, +from that hour he disappeared, and drank his bitter cup alone. + +After a while it transpired in the village that he was very ill. The +clergyman went to visit him, but was not admitted. The only person who +got to see him was his friend Wheeler, a small but sharp attorney, by +whose advice he acted in country matters. This Wheeler was very fond of +shooting, and could not get a crack at a pheasant except on Highmore; +and that was a bond between him and its proprietor. It was Wheeler who +had first told Bassett not to despair of possessing the estates, since +they had inserted Sir Charles's heir at law in the entail. + +This Wheeler found him now so shrunk in body, so pale and haggard in +face, and dejected in mind, that he was really shocked, and asked leave +to send a doctor from a neighboring town. + +"What to do?" said Richard, moodily. "It's my mind; it's not my body. +Ah, Wheeler, it is all over. I and mine shall never have Huntercombe +now." + +"I'll tell you what it is," said Wheeler, almost angrily, "you will +have six feet by two of it before long if you go on this way. Was ever +such folly! to fret yourself out of this jolly world because you can't +get one particular slice of its upper crust. Why, one bit of land is as +good as another; and I'll show you how to get land--in this +neighborhood, too. Ay, right under Sir Charles's nose." + +"Show me that," said Bassett, gloomily and incredulously. + +"Leave off moping, then, and I will. I advise the bank, you know, and +'Splatchett's' farm is mortgaged up to the eyes. It is not the only +one. I go to the village inns, and pick up all the gossip I hear +there." + +"How am I to find money to buy land?" + +"I'll put you up to that, too; but you must leave off moping. Hang it, +man, never say die. There are plenty of chances on the cards. Get your +color back, and marry a girl with money, and turn that into land. The +first thing is to leave off grizzling. Why, you are playing the enemy's +game. That can't be right, can it?" + +This remark was the first that really roused the sick man. + +Wheeler had too few clients to lose one. He now visited Bassett almost +daily, and, being himself full of schemes and inventions, he got +Bassett, by degrees, out of his lethargy, and he emerged into daylight +again; but he looked thin, and yellow as a guinea, and he had turned +miser. He kept but one servant, and fed her and himself at Sir Charles +Bassett's expense. He wired that gentleman's hares and rabbits in his +own hedges. He went out with his gun every sunny afternoon, and shot a +brace or two of pheasants, without disturbing the rest; for he took no +dog with him to run and yelp, but a little boy, who quietly tapped the +hedgerows and walked the sunny banks and shaws. They never came home +empty-handed. + +But on those rarer occasions when Sir Charles and his friends beat the +Bassett woods Richard was sure to make a large bag; for he was a cool, +unerring shot, and flushed the birds in hedgerows, slips of underwood, +etc., to which the fairer sportsmen had driven them. + +These birds and the surplus hares he always sold in the market-town, +and put the money into a box. The rabbits he ate, and also squirrels, +and, above all, young hedgehogs: a gypsy taught him how to cook them, +viz., by inclosing them in clay, and baking them in wood embers; then +the bristles adhere to the burned clay, and the meat is juicy. He was +his own gardener, and vegetables cost him next to nothing. + +So he went on through all the winter months, and by the spring his +health and strength were restored. Then he turned woodman, cut down +every stick of timber in a little wood near his house, and sold it; and +then set to work to grub up the roots for fires, and cleared it for +tillage. The sum he received for the wood was much more than he +expected, and this he made a note of. + +He had a strong body, that could work hard all day, a big hate, and a +mania for the possession of land. And so he led a truly Spartan life, +and everybody in the village said he was mad. + +While he led this hard life Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were the +gayest of the gay. She was the beauty and the bride. Visits and +invitations poured in from every part of the country. Sir Charles, +flattered by the homage paid to his beloved, made himself younger and +less fastidious to indulge her; and the happy pair often drove twelve +miles to dinner, and twenty to dine and sleep--an excellent custom in +that country, one of whose favorite toasts is worth recording: "MAY YOU +DINE WHERE YOU PLEASE, AND SLEEP WHERE YOU DINE." + +They were at every ball, and gave one or two themselves. + +Above all, they enjoyed society in that delightful form which is +confined to large houses. They would have numerous and well-assorted +visitors staying at the house for a week or so, and all dining at a +huge round table. But two o'clock P.M. was the time to see how hosts +and guests enjoyed themselves. The hall door of Huntercombe was +approached by a flight of stone steps, easy of ascent, and about +twenty-four feet wide. At the riding hour the county ladies used to +come, one after another, holding up their riding-habits with one hand, +and perch about this gigantic flight of steps like peacocks, and +chatter like jays, while the servants walked their horses about the +gravel esplanade, and the four-in-hand waited a little in the rear. A +fine champing of bits and fidgeting of thoroughbreds there was, till +all were ready; then the ladies would each put out her little foot, +with charming nonchalance, to the nearest gentleman or groom, with a +slight preference for the grooms, who were more practiced. The man +lifted, the lady sprang at the same time, and into her saddle like a +bird--Lady Bassett on a very quiet pony, or in the carriage to please +some dowager--and away they clattered in high spirits, a regular +cavalcade. It was a hunting county, and the ladies rode well; square +seat, light hand on the snaffle, the curb reserved for cases of +necessity; and, when they had patted the horse on the neck at starting, +as all these coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well-bred +ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which distinguishes ladies +who have ridden all their lives from the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park, +who ride, if riding it can be called, with their elbows uncouthly +fastened to their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit of +their stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a housemaid's, sawing +the poor horse with curb and snaffle at once, while the whole body +breathes pretension and affectation, and seems to say, "Look at me; I +am on horseback! Be startled at that--as I am! and I have had lessons +from a riding-master. He has taught me how a lady should ride"--in his +opinion, poor devil. + +The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the clattering of these +bright cavalcades, with the music of the women excited by motion, +furnished a picture of wealth and gayety and happy country life that +cheered the whole neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with the stern +Spartan life of him who had persuaded himself he was the rightful owner +of Huntercombe Hall. + +Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found himself a bad one. +One day he made a little mistake, which, owing to his popularity, was +very gently handled by the Bench at their weekly meeting; but still Sir +Charles was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly to Oldfield for +law books, and that gentleman sent him an excellent selection bound in +smooth calf. + +Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except hunting days, +when no squire can work; and as his study was his justice room, he took +care to find an authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, and +rustic offenders, especially poachers and runaway farm servants, used +to think themselves fortunate if they were taken before him and not +before Squire Powys, who was sure to give them the sharp edge of the +law. So now Sir Charles was useful as well as ornamental. + +Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only one little +cloud--there was no sign yet of a son and heir. But let a man be ever +so powerful, it is an awkward thing to have a bitter, inveterate enemy +at his door watching for a chance. Sir Charles began to realize this in +the sixteenth month of his wedded bliss. A small estate called +"Splatchett's" lay on his north side, and a marginal strip of this +property ran right into a wood of his. This strip was wretched land, +and the owner, unable to raise any wheat crop on it, had planted it +with larches. + +Sir Charles had made him a liberal offer for "Splatchett's" about six +years ago; but he had refused point-blank, being then in good +circumstances. + +Sir Charles now received a hint from one of his own gamekeepers that +the old farmer was in a bad way, and talked of selling. So Sir Charles +called on him, and asked him if he would sell "Splatchett's" now. "Why, +I can't sell it twice," said the old man, testily. "You ha' got it, +han't ye?" It turned out that Richard Bassett had been beforehand. The +bank had pressed for their money, and threatened foreclosure; then +Bassett had stepped in with a good price; and although the conveyance +was not signed, a stamped agreement was, and neither vender nor +purchaser could go back. What made it more galling, the proprietor was +not aware of the feud between the Bassetts, and had thought to please +Sir Charles by selling to one of his name. + +Sir Charles Bassett went home seriously vexed. He did not mean to tell +his wife; but love's eye read his face, love's arm went round his neck, +and love's soft voice and wistful eyes soon coaxed it out of him. "Dear +Charles," said she, "never mind. It is mortifying; but think how much +you have, and how little that wicked man has. Let him have that farm; +he has lost his self-respect, and that is worth a great many farms. For +my part, I pity the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wife +will try, against him, to make you happy, my own beloved; and I think I +may prove as strong as Mr. Bassett," said she, with a look of +inspiration. + +Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight a scratch. + +But they had not done with "Splatchett's" yet. Just after Christmas Sir +Charles invited three gentlemen to beat his more distant preserves. +Their guns bellowed in quick succession through the woods, and at last +they reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid shooting, as a +great many cock pheasants had already been seen running ahead. + +But when they got to the end of the wood they found Lawyer Wheeler +standing against a tree just within "Splatchett's" boundary, and one of +their own beaters reported that two boys were stationed in the road, +each tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to that strip +of land, on which the low larches and high grass afforded a strong +covert. + +Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary. + +Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the cock pheasants, one +after another. Whenever a pheasant whirred up the man left off beating. + +The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and those that escaped +him and turned back for the wood were brought down by Bassett, firing +from the hard road. Only those were spared that flew northward into +"Splatchett's." It was a veritable slaughter, planned with judgment, +and carried out in a most ungentlemanlike and unsportsmanlike manner. + +It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After several vain efforts +to restrain himself, he shouldered his gun, and, followed by his +friends, went bursting through the larches to Richard Bassett. + +"Mr. Bassett," said he, "this is most ungentlernanly conduct." + +"What is the matter, sir? Am I on your ground?" + +"No, but you are taking a mean advantage of our being out. Who ever +heard of a gentleman beating his boundaries the very day a neighbor was +out shooting, and filling them with his game?" + +"Oh, that is it, is it? When justice is against you you can talk of +law, and when law is against you you appeal to justice. Let us be in +one story or the other, please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me by +birth. You have got them by legal trickery. Keep them while you live. +_They will come to me one day, you know._ Meantime, leave me my little +estate of 'Splatchett's.' For shame, sir; you have robbed me of my +inheritance and my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few cock pheasants? +Why, you have made me so poor they are an object to me now." + +"Oh!" said Sir Charles, "if you are stealing my game to keep body and +soul together, I pity you. In that case, perhaps you will let my +friends help you fill your larder." + +Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near at +the sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent. + +"By all means," said he, adroitly. "Mr. Markham, your father often shot +with mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little +'Splatchett's.' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy +bunglers, and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for the +gentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only want the birds." + +Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whiz +into the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followed +by a shower of feathers. + +His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He left +them in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home. + +He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she got it all +from him. She was very indignant at many of the things; but as for Sir +Charles, all his cousin's arrows glided off that high-minded gentleman, +except one, and that quivered in his heart. "Yes, Bella," said he, "he +told me he should inherit these estates. That is because we are not +blessed with children." + +Lady Bassett sighed. "But we shall be some day. Shall we not?" + +"God knows," said Sir Charles, gloomily. "I wonder whether there was +really anything unfair done on our side when the entail was cut off?" + +"Is that likely, dearest? Why?" + +"Heaven seems to be on his side." + +"On the side of a wicked man?" + +"But he may be the father of innocent children." + +"Why, he is not even married." + +"He will marry. He will not throw a chance away. It makes my head +dizzy, and my heart sick. Bella, now I can understand two enemies +meeting alone in some solitary place, and one killing the other in a +moment of rage; for when this scoundrel insulted me I remembered his +anonymous letter, and all his relentless malice. Bella, I could have +raised my gun and shot him like a weasel." + +Lady Bassett screamed faintly, and flung her arms round his neck. "Oh, +Charles, pray to God against such thoughts. You shall never go near +that man again. Don't think of our one disappointment: think of all the +blessings we enjoy. Never mind that wretched man's hate. Think of your +wife's love. Have I not more power to make you happy than he has to +afflict you, my adored?" These sweet words were accompanied by a wife's +divine caresses; with the honey of her voice, and the liquid sunshine +of her loving eyes. Sir Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgot +his one grief and his one enemy for a time. + +Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and thought deeply of +Richard Bassett and "his unrelenting, impenitent malice." Women of her +fine fiber, when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often +divinations. The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time by +flashes of lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events to +come, And so it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror of +the future and of Richard Bassett crept over her--a terror +disproportioned to his past acts and apparent power. Perhaps she was +oppressed by having an enemy--she, who was born to be loved. At all +events, she was full of feminine divinations and forebodings, and saw, +by flashes, many a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver and strike the +beloved breast. It had already discharged one that had parted them for +a time, and nearly killed Sir Charles. + +Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but left a sober dread +and a strange resolution. This timid creature, stimulated by love, +determined to watch the foe, and defend her husband with all her little +power. All manner of devices passed through her head, but were +rejected, because, if Love said "Do wonders," Timidity said "Do nothing +that you have not seen other wives do." So she remained, scheming, and +longing, and fearing, and passive, all day. But the next day she +conceived a vague idea, and, all in a heat, rang for her maid. While +the maid was coming she fell to blushing at her own boldness, and, just +as the maid opened the door, her thermometer fell so low that--she sent +her upstairs for a piece of work. Oh, lame and impotent conclusion! + +Just before luncheon she chanced to look through a window, and to see +the head gamekeeper crossing the park, and coming to the house. Now +this was the very man she wanted to speak to. The sudden temptation +surprised her out of her timidity. She rang the bell again, and sent +for the man. + +That Colossus wondered in his mind, and felt uneasy at an invitation so +novel. However, he clattered into the morning-room, in his velveteen +coat, and leathern gaiters up to his thigh, pulled his front hair, +bobbed his head, and then stood firm in body as was he of Rhodes, but +in mind much abashed at finding himself in her ladyship's presence. + +The lady, however, did not prove so very terrible. "May I inquire your +name, sir?" said she, very respectfully. + +"Moses Moss, my lady." + +"Mr. Moss, I wish to ask you a question or two. _May_ I?" + +"That you may, my lady." + +"I want you to explain, if you will be so good, how the proprietor of +'Splatchett's' can shoot all Sir Charles's pheasants." + +"Lord! my lady, we ain't come down to that. But he do shoot more than +his share, that's sure an' sartain. Well, my lady, if you please, game +is just like Christians: it will make for sunny spots. Highmore has got +a many of them there, with good cover; so we breeds for him. As for +'Splatchett's,' that don't hurt we, my lady; it is all arable land and +dead hedges, with no bottom; only there's one little tongue of it runs +into North Wood, and planted with larch; and, if you please, my lady, +there is always a kind of coarse grass grows under young larches, and +makes a strong cover for game. So, beat North Wood which way you will, +them artful old cocks will run ahead of ye, or double back into them +larches. And you see Mr. Bassett is not a gentleman, like Sir Charles; +he is always a-mouching about, and the biggest poacher in the parish; +and so he drops on to 'em out of bounds." + +"Is there no way of stopping all this, sir?" + +"We might station a dozen beaters ahead. They would most likely get +shot; but I don't think as they'd mind that much if you had set your +heart on it, my lady. Dall'd if I would, for one." + +"Oh, Mr. Moss! Heaven forbid that any man should be shot for me. No, +not for all the pheasants in the world. I'll try and think of some +other way. I should like to see the place. _May_ I?" + +"Yes, my lady, and welcome." + +"How shall I get to it, sir?" + +"You can ride to the 'Woodman's Rest,' my lady, and it is scarce a +stone's-throw from there; but 'tis baddish traveling for the likes of +you." + +She appointed an hour, rode with her groom to the public-house, and +thence was conducted through bush, through brier, to the place where +her husband had been so annoyed. + +Moss's comments became very intelligible to her the moment she saw the +place. She said very little, however, and rode home. + +Next day she blushed high, and asked Sir Charles for a hundred pounds +to spend upon herself. + +Sir Charles smiled, well pleased, and gave it her, and a kiss into the +bargain. + +"Ah! but," said she, "that is not all." + +"I am glad of it. You spend too little money on yourself--a great deal +too little." + +"That is a complaint you won't have long to make. I want to cut down a +few trees. _May_ I?" + +"Going to build?" + +"Don't ask me. It is for myself." + +"That is enough. Cut down every stick on the estate if you like. The +barer it leaves us the better." + +"Ah, Charles, you promised me not. I shall cut with great discretion, I +assure you." + +"As you please," said Sir Charles. "If you want to make me happy, deny +yourself nothing. Mind, I shall be angry if you do." + + Soon after this a gaping quidnunc came to Sir Charles and told him +Lady Bassett was felling trees in North Wood. + +"And pray who has a better right to fell trees in any wood of mine?" + +"But she is building a wall." + +"And who has a better right to build a wall?" + +With the delicacy of a gentleman he would not go near the place after +this till she asked him; and that was not long, She came into his +study, all beaming, and invited him to a ride. She took him into North +Wood, and showed him her work. Richard Bassett's plantation, hitherto +divided from North Wood only by a boundary scarcely visible, was now +shut off by a brick wall: on Sir Charles's side of that wall every +stick of timber was felled and removed for a distance of fifty yards, +and about twenty yards from the wall a belt of larches was planted, a +little higher than cabbages. + +Sir Charles looked amazed at first, but soon observed how thoroughly +his enemy was defeated. "My poor Bella," said he, "to think of your +taking all this trouble about such a thing!" He stopped to kiss her +very tenderly, and she shone with joy and innocent pride. "And I never +thought of this! You astonish me, Bella." + +"Ay," said she, in high spirits now; "and, what is more, I have +astonished Mr. Moss. He said, 'I wish I had your head-piece, my lady.' +I could have told him Love sharpens a woman's wits; but I reserved that +little adage for you." + +"It's all mighty fine, fair lady, but you have told me a fib. You said +it was to be all for yourself, and got a hundred pounds out of me." + +"And so it was for myself, you silly thing. Are you not myself? and the +part of myself I love the best?" And her supple wrist was round his +neck in a moment. + +They rode home together, like lovers, and comforted each other. + + + +Richard Bassett, with Wheeler's assistance, had borrowed money on +Highmore to buy "Splatchett's"; he now borrowed money on +"Splatchett's," and bought Dean's Wood--a wood, with patches of grass, +that lay on the east of Sir Charles's boundary. He gave seventeen +hundred pounds for it, and sold two thousand pounds' worth of timber +off it the first year. This sounds incredible; but, owing to the custom +of felling only ripe trees, landed proprietors had no sure clew to the +value of all the timber on an acre. Richard Bassett had found this out, +and bought Dean's Wood upon the above terms--_i.e.,_ the vender gave +him the soil and three hundred pounds gratis. He grubbed the roots and +sold them for fuel, and planted larches to catch the overflow of Sir +Charles's game. The grass grew beautifully, now the trees were down, +and he let it for pasture. + +He then, still under Wheeler's advice, came out into the world again, +improved his dress, and called on several county families, with a view +to marrying money. + +Now in the country they do not despise a poor gentleman of good +lineage, and Bassett was one of the oldest names in the county; so +every door was open to him; and, indeed, his late hermit life had +stimulated some curiosity. This he soon turned to sympathy, by telling +them that he was proud but poor. Robbed of the vast estates that +belonged to him by birth, he had been unwilling to take a lower +position. However, Heaven had prospered him; the wrongful heir was +childless; he was the heir at law, and felt he owed it to the estate, +which must return to his line, to assume a little more public +importance than he had done. + +Wherever he was received he was sure to enlarge upon his wrongs; and he +was believed; for he was notoriously the direct heir to Bassett and +Huntercombe, but the family arrangement by which his father had been +bought out was known only to a few. He readily obtained sympathy, and +many persons were disgusted at Sir Charles's illiberality in not making +him some compensation. To use the homely expression of Govett, a small +proprietor, the baronet might as well have given him back one pig out +of his own farrow--_i.e.,_ one of the many farms comprised in that +large estate. + +Sir Charles learned that Richard was undermining him in the county, but +was too proud to interfere; he told Lady Bassett he should say nothing +until some _gentleman_ should indorse Mr. Bassett's falsehoods. + +One day Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were invited to dine and sleep at +Mr. Hardwicke's, distance fifteen miles; they went, and found Richard +Bassett dining there, by Mrs. Hardwicke's invitation, who was one of +those ninnies that fling guests together with no discrimination. + +Richard had expected this to happen sooner or later, so he was +comparatively prepared, and bowed stiffly to Sir Charles. Sir Charles +stared at him in return. This was observed. People were uncomfortable, +especially Mrs. Hardwicke, whose thoughtlessness was to blame for it +all. + +At a very early hour Sir Charles ordered his carriage, and drove home, +instead of staying all night. + +Mrs. Hardwicke, being a fool, must make a little more mischief. She +blubbered to her husband, and he wrote Sir Charles a remonstrance. + +Sir Charles replied that he was the only person aggrieved; Mr. +Hardwicke ought not to have invited a blackguard to meet _him._ + +Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a Bassett called a +blackguard before, and had seen nothing in Mr. Bassett to justify an +epithet so unusual among gentlemen. "And, to be frank with you, Sir +Charles," said he, "I think this bitterness against a poor gentleman, +whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is not consistent +with your general character, and is, indeed, unworthy of you." + +To this Sir Charles Bassett replied: + + + +"DEAR MR. HARDWICK--You have applied some remarks to me which I will +endeavor to forget, as they were written in entire ignorance of the +truth. But if we are to remain friends, I expect you to believe me when +I tell you that Mr. Richard Bassett has never been wronged by me or +mine, but has wronged me and Lady Bassett deeply. He is a dishonorable +scoundrel, not entitled to be received in society; and if, after this +assurance, you receive him, I shall never darken your doors again. So +please let me know your decision. + +"I remain + +"Yours truly, + +"CHARLES DYKE BASSETT." + + + +Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this; but Prudence stepped in. He was one of +the county members, and Sir Charles could command three hundred votes. + +He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles's letter with pain, +but, of course, he could not disbelieve him, and therefore he should +invite Mr. Bassett no more till the matter was cleared. + +But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled at his own +meanness; so he sent Sir Charles's letter to Mr. Richard Bassett. + +Bassett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, raving with insults, +to Sir Charles. + +He was in the act of directing it when Wheeler called on him. Bassett +showed him Sir Charles's letter. Wheeler read it. + +"Now read what I say to him in reply." + +Wheeler read Bassett's letter, threw it into the fire, and kept it +there with the poker. + +"Lucky I called," said he, dryly. "Saved you a thousand pounds or so. +You must not write a letter without me." + +"What, am I to sit still and be insulted? You're a pretty friend." + +"I am a wise friend. This is a more serious matter than you seem to +think." + +"Libel?" + +"Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted _me,_ I could not have +dictated a better letter. It closes every chink a defendant in libel +can creep out by. Now take your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke." + + + +"DEAR SIR--I have received your letter, containing a libel written by +Sir Charles Bassett. My reply will be public. + +"Yours very truly, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +"Is that all?" + +"Every syllable. Now mind; you never go to Hardwicke House again; Sir +Charles has got you banished from that house; special damage! There +never was a prettier case for a jury--the rightful heir foully +slandered by the possessor of his hereditary estates." + +This picture excited Bassett, and he walked about raving with malice, +and longing for the time when he should stand in the witness-box and +denounce his enemy. + +"No, no," said Wheeler, "leave that to counsel; you must play the mild +victim in the witness-box. Who is the defendant solicitor? We ought to +serve the writ on him at once." + +"No, no; serve it on himself." + +"What for? Much better proceed like gentlemen." + +Bassett got in a passion at being contradicted in everything. "I tell +you," said he, "the more I can irritate and exasperate this villain the +better. Besides, he slandered me behind my back; and I'll have the writ +served upon himself. I'll do everything I can to take him down. If a +man wants to be my lawyer he must enter into my feelings a little." + +Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever now, consented somewhat +reluctantly, and called at Huntercombe Hall next day with the writ, and +sent in his card. + +Lady Bassett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. Bassett's friend. + +The butler said he thought it was. + +Lady Bassett went to Sir Charles in his study. "Oh, my dear," said she, +"here is Mr. Bassett's lawyer." + +"Well?" + +"Why does he come here?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't see him." + +"Why not?" + +"I am so afraid of Mr. Bassett. He is our evil genius. Let me see this +person instead of you. _May_ I?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Might I see him _first,_ love?" + +"You will not see him at all." + +"Charles!" + +"No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to my wife." + +"But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You know, Charles, I +don't often presume to meddle; but I am in torture about this man. If +you receive him, may I be with you? Then we shall be two to one." + +"No, no," said Sir Charles, testily. Then, seeing her beautiful eyes +fill at the refusal and the unusual tone, he relented. "You may be in +hearing if you like. Open that door, and sit in the little room." + +"Oh, thank you!" + +She stepped into the room--a very small sitting-room. She had never +been in it before, and while she was examining it, and thinking how she +could improve its appearance, Mr. Wheeler was shown into the study. Sir +Charles received him standing, to intimate that the interview must be +brief. This, and the time he had been kept waiting in the hall, roused +Wheeler's bile, and he entered on his subject more bruskly than he had +intended. + +"Sir Charles Bassett, you wrote a letter to Mr. Hardwicke, reflecting +on my client, Mr. Bassett--a most unjustifiable letter." + +"Keep your opinion to yourself, sir. I wrote a letter, calling him what +he is." + +"No, sir; that letter is a libel." + +"It is the truth." + +"It is a malicious libel, sir; and we shall punish you for it. I hereby +serve you with this copy of a writ. Damages, five thousand pounds." + +A sigh from the next room passed unnoticed by the men, for their voices +were now raised in anger. + +"And so that is what you came here for. Why did you not go to my +solicitor? You must be as great a blackguard as your client, to serve +your paltry writs on me in my own house." + +"Not blackguard enough to insult a gentleman in my own house. If you +had been civil I might have accommodated matters; but now I'll make you +smart--ugh!" + +Nothing provokes a high-spirited man more than a menace. Sir Charles, +threatened in his wife's hearing, shot out his right arm with +surprising force and rapidity, and knocked Wheeler down in a moment. + +In came Lady Bassett, with a scream, and saw the attorney lying doubled +up, and Sir Charles standing over him, blowing like a grampus with rage +and excitement. + +But the next moment be staggered and gasped, and she had to support him +to a seat. She rang the bell for aid, then kneeled, and took his +throbbing temples to her wifely bosom. + +Wheeler picked himself up, and, seated on his hams, eyed the pair with +concentrated fury. + +"Aha! You have hurt yourself more than me. Two suits against you now +instead of one." + +"Conduct this person from the house," said Lady Bassett to a servant +who entered at that moment. + +"All right, my lady," said Wheeler; "I'll remind you of that word when +this house belongs to us." + + +CHAPTER X. + +WITH this bitter reply Wheeler retired precipitately; the shaft pierced +but one bosom; for the devoted wife, with the swift ingenuity of +woman's love, had put both her hands right over her husband's ears that +he might hear no more insults. + +Sir Charles very nearly had a fit; but his wife loosened his neckcloth, +caressed his throbbing head, and applied eau-de-Cologne to his +nostrils. He got better, but felt dizzy for about an hour. She made him +come into her room and lie down; she hung over him, curling as a vine +and light as a bird, and her kisses lit softly as down upon his eyes, +and her words of love and pity murmured music in his ears till he +slept, and that danger passed. + +For a day or two after this both Sir Charles and Lady Bassett avoided +the unpleasant subject. But it had to be faced; so Mr. Oldfield was +summoned to Huntercombe, and all engagements given up for the day, that +he might dine alone with them and talk the matter over. + +Sir Charles thought he could justify; but when it came to the point he +could only prove that Richard had done several ungentleman-like things +of a nature a stout jury would consider trifles. + +Mr. Oldfield said of course they must enter an appearance; and, this +done, the wisest course would be to let him see Wheeler, and try to +compromise the suit. "It will cost you a thousand pounds, Sir Charles, +I dare say; but if it teaches you never to write of an enemy or to an +enemy without showing your lawyer the letter first, the lesson will be +cheap. Somebody in the Bible says, 'Oh, that mine enemy would write a +book!' I say, 'Oh, that he would write a letter--without consulting his +solicitor." + +It was Lady Bassett's cue now to make light of troubles. "What does it +matter, Mr. Oldfield? All they want is money. Yes, offer them a +thousand pounds to leave him in peace." + +So next day Mr. Oldfield called on Wheeler, all smiles and civility, +and asked him if he did not think it a pity cousins should quarrel +before the whole county. + +"A great pity," said Wheeler. "But my client has no alternative. No +gentleman in the county would speak to him if he sat quiet under such +contumely." + +After beating about the bush the usual time, Oldfield said that Sir +Charles was hungry for litigation, but that Lady Bassett was averse to +it. "In short, Mr. Wheeler, I will try and get Mr. Bassett a thousand +pounds to forego this scandal." + +"I will consult him, and let you know," said Wheeler. "He happens to be +in the town." + +Oldfield called again in an hour. Wheeler told him a thousand pounds +would be accepted, with a written apology. + +Oldfield shook his head. "Sir Charles will never write an apology: +right or wrong, he is too sincere in his conviction." + +"He will never get a jury to share it." + +"You must not be too sure of that. You don't know the defense." + +Oldfield said this with a gravity which did him credit. + +"Do you know it yourself?" said the other keen hand. + +Mr. Oldfield smiled haughtily, but said nothing. Wheeler had hit the +mark. + +"By the by," said the latter, "there is another little matter. Sir +Charles assaulted me for doing my duty to my client. I mean to sue him. +Here is the writ; will you accept service?" + +"Oh, certainly, Mr. Wheeler and I am glad to find you do not make a +habit of serving writs on gentlemen in person." + +"Of course not. I did it on a single occasion, contrary to my own wish, +and went in person--to soften the blow--instead of sending my clerk." + +After this little spar, the two artists in law bade each other farewell +with every demonstration of civility. + +Sir Charles would not apologize. + +The plaintiff filed his declaration. + +The defendant pleaded not guilty, but did not disclose a defense. The +law allows a defendant in libel this advantage. + +Plaintiff joined issue, and the trial was set down for the next +assizes. + +Sir Charles was irritated, but nothing more. Lady Bassett, with a +woman's natural shrinking from publicity, felt it more deeply. She +would have given thousands of her own money to keep the matter out of +court. But her very terror of Richard Bassett restrained her. She was +always thinking about him, and had convinced herself he was the ablest +villain in the wide world; and she thought to herself, "If, with his +small means, he annoys Charles so, what would he do if I were to enrich +him? He would crush us." + +As the trial drew near she began to hover about Sir Charles in his +study, like an anxious hen. The maternal yearnings were awakened in her +by marriage, and she had no child; so her Charles in trouble was +husband and child. + +Sometimes she would come in and just kiss his forehead, and run out +again, casting back a celestial look of love at the door, and, though +it was her husband she had kissed, she blushed divinely. At last one +day she crept in and said, very timidly, "Charles dear, the anonymous +letter--is not that an excuse for libeling him--as they call telling +the truth?" + +"Why, of course it is. Have you got it?" + +"Dearest, the brave lady took it away." + +"The brave lady! Who is that?" + +"Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield and pleaded your cause with +papa--oh, so eloquently! Sometimes when I think of it now I feel almost +jealous. Who is she?" + +"From what you have always told me, I think it was the Sister of +Charity who nursed me." + +"You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that was only put on. +Charles, tell me the truth. What does it matter _now?_ It was some lady +who loved you." + +"Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to you?" + +"Women's love is so disinterested--sometimes." + +"No, no; she told me she was a sister of--, and no doubt that is the +truth." + +"A sister of whom?" + +"No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, on +second thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be better +not to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again." + +Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would try +to get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Bassett wrote it. + +"I see no harm in that," said Sir Charles; "only confine your +communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writing +to a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less I +understand it." + +"There are people who do good by stealth," suggested Bella timidly. + +"Fiddledeedee!" replied Sir Charles; "you are a goose--I mean an +angel." + +Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded the +spirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity. + + + +"DEAR MR. OLDFIELD--You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charles +will soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by some +great orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base, +and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dear +husband, in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The +brave lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wish +I dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but I must not, I +suppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor us +with a word of advice as well as the letter. + +"I remain, yours faithfully, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did what +was expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Bassett's letter, +and some lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty in +a more businesslike way. + +In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country, +hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she would +sent up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she had +kept it at all. + +Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly, +urging expedition. + +This produced an effect that he had not anticipated. + +One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about +five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Bassett she must +ride to cover. + +"Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We +shall soon have publicity enough." + +"That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of, +and you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion." + +"I obey," said Bella. + +"And look your best." + +"I will, dearest." + +"And be in good spirits." + +"Must I?" + +"Yes." + +"I will try. Oh!--oh!--oh!" + +"Why, you poor-spirited little goose! Dry your eyes this moment." + +"There. Oh!" + +"And kiss me." + +"There. Ah! kissing you is a great comfort." + +"It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now run away and put on +your habit. I'll have two grooms out; one with a fresh horse for me, +and one to look after you." + +"Oh, Charles! Pray don't make me hunt." + +"No, no. Not so tyrannical as that; hang it all!" + +"Do you know what I do while you are hunting? I pray all the time that +you may not get a fall and be hurt; and I pray God to forgive you and +all the gentlemen for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogs +after one poor little inoffensive thing, to hunt it and kill it--kill +it twice, indeed; once with terror, and then over again with mangling +its poor little body." + +"This is cheerful," said Sir Charles, rather ruefully. "We cannot all +be angels, like you. It is a glorious excitement. There! you are too +good for this world; I'll let you off going." + +"Oh no, dear. I won't be let off, now I know your wish. Only I beg to +ride home as soon as the poor thing runs away. You wouldn't get me out +of the thick covers if I were a fox. I'd run round and round, and call +on all my acquaintances to set them running." + +As she said this her eyes turned toward each other in a peculiar way, +and she looked extremely foxy; but the look melted away directly. + +The hounds met, and Lady Bassett, who was still the beauty of the +county, was surrounded by riders at first; but as the hounds began to +work, and every now and then a young hound uttered a note, they +cantered about, and took up different posts, as experience suggested. + +At last a fox was found at the other end of the cover, and away +galloped the hunters in that direction, all but four persons, Lady +Bassett, and her groom, who kept respectfully aloof, and a lady and +gentleman who had reined their horses up on a rising ground about a +furlong distant. + +Lady Bassett, thus left alone, happened to look round, and saw the lady +level an opera-glass toward her and look through it. + +As a result of this inspection the lady cantered toward her. She was on +a chestnut gelding of great height and bone, and rode him as if they +were one, so smoothly did she move in concert with his easy, +magnificent strides. + +When she came near Lady Bassett she made a little sweep and drew up +beside her on the grass. + +There was no mistaking that tall figure and commanding face. It was the +brave lady. Her eyes sparkled; her cheek was slightly colored with +excitement; she looked healthier and handsomer than ever, and also more +feminine, for a reason the sagacious reader may perhaps discern if he +attends to the dialogue. + +_"So,"_ said she, without bowing or any other ceremony, "that little +rascal is troubling you again." + +Lady Bassett colored and panted, and looked lovingly at her, before she +could speak. At last she said, "Yes; and you have come to help us +again." + +"Well, the lawyer said there was no time to lose; so I have brought you +the anonymous letter." + +"Oh, thank you, madam, thank you." + +"But I'm afraid it will be of no use unless you can prove Mr. Bassett +wrote it. It is in a disguised hand." + +"But you found him out by means of another letter." + +"Yes; but I can't give you that other letter to have it read in a court +of law, because--Do you see that gentleman there?" + +"Yes." + +"That is Marsh." + +"Oh, is it?" + +"He is a fool; but I am going to marry him. I have been very ill since +I saw you, and poor Marsh nursed me. Talk of women nurses! If ever you +are ill in earnest, as I was, write to me, and I'll send you Marsh. Oh, +I have no words to tell you his patience, his forbearance, his +watchfulness, his tenderness to a sick woman. It is no use--I must +marry him; and I could have no letter published that would give him +pain." + +"Of course not. Oh, madam, do you think I am capable of doing anything +that would give you pain, or dear Mr. Marsh either?" + +"No, no; you are a good woman." + +"Not half so good as you are." + +"You don't know what you are saying." + +"Oh yes, I do." + +"Then I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good-by, Lady Bassett." + +"Must you leave me so soon? Will you not visit us? May I not know the +name of so good a friend?" + +"Next week I shall be _Mrs. Marsh."_ + +"And you will give me the great pleasure of having you at my house--you +and your husband?" + +The lady showed some agitation at this--an unusual thing for her. She +faltered: "Some day, perhaps, if I make him as good a wife as I hope +to. What a lady you are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; but +you are a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of myself; and they +are all coming this way, by the dogs' music." + +"Won't you kiss me, after bringing me this?" + +"Kiss you?" and she opened her eyes. + +"If you please," said Lady Bassett, bending toward her, with eyes full +of gratitude and tenderness. + +Then the other woman took her by the shoulders, and plunged her great +gray orbs into Bella's. + +They kissed each other. + +At that contact the stranger seemed to change her character all in a +moment. She strained Bella to her bosom and kissed her passionately, +and sobbed out, wildly, "O God! you are good to sinners. This is the +happiest hour of my life--it is a forerunner. Bless you, sweet dove of +innocence! You will be none the worse, and I am all the better--Ah! +Sir Charles. Not one word about me to him." + +And with these words, uttered with sudden energy, she spurred her great +horse, leaped the ditch, and burst through the dead hedge into the +wood, and winded out of sight among the trees. + +Sir Charles came up astonished. "Why, who was that?" + +Bella's eyes began to rove, as I have before described; but she replied +pretty promptly, "The brave lady herself; she brought me the anonymous +letter for your defense." + +"Why, how came she to know about it?" + +"She did not tell me that. She was in a great hurry. Her fiance was +waiting for her." + +"Was it necessary to kiss her in the hunting-field?" said Sir Charles, +with something very like a frown. + +"I'd kiss the whole field, grooms and all, if they did you a great +service, as that dear lady has," said Bella. The words were brave, but +the accent piteous. + +"You are excited, Bella. You had better ride home," said Sir Charles, +gently enough, but moodily. + +"Thank you, Charles," said Bella, glad to escape further examination +about this mysterious lady. She rode home accordingly. There she found +Mr. Oldfield, and showed him the anonymous letter. + +He read it, and said it was a defense, but a disagreeable one. "Suppose +he says he wrote it, and the facts were true?" + +"But I don't think he will confess it. He is not a gentleman. He is +very untruthful. Can we not make this a trap to catch him, sir? _He_ +has no scruples." + +Oldfield looked at her in some surprise at her depth. + +"We must get hold of his handwriting," said he. "We must ransack the +local banks; find his correspondents." + +"Leave all that to me," said Lady Bassett, in a low voice. + + Mr. Oldfield thought he might as well please a beautiful and loving +woman, if he could; so he gave her something to do for her husband. +"Very well; collect all the materials of comparison you can--letters, +receipts, etc. Meantime I will retain the two principal experts in +London, and we will submit your materials to them the night before the +trial." + +Lady Bassett, thus instructed, drove to all the banks, but found no +clerk acquainted with Mr. Bassett's handwriting. He did not bank with +anybody in the county. + +She called on several persons she thought likely to possess letters or +other writings of Richard Bassett. Not a scrap. + +Then she began to fear. The case looked desperate. + +Then she began to think. And she thought very hard indeed, especially +at night. + +In the dead of night she had an idea. She got up, and stole from her +husband's side, and studied the anonymous letter. + +Next day she sat down with the anonymous letter on her desk, and +blushed, and trembled, and looked about like some wild animal scared. +She selected from the anonymous letter several words--"character, +abused, Sir, Charles, Bassett, lady, abandoned, friend, whether, ten, +slanderer" etc.--and wrote them on a slip of paper. Then she locked up +the anonymous letter. Then she locked the door. Then she sat down to a +sheet of paper, and, after some more wild and furtive glances all +around, she gave her whole mind to writing a letter. + +And to whom did she write, think you? + +To Richard Bassett. + + +CHAPTER XI. + +"MR. BASSETT--I am sure both yourself and my husband will suffer in +public estimation, unless some friend comes between you, and this +unhappy lawsuit is given up. + +"Do not think me blind nor presumptuous; Sir Charles, when he wrote +that letter, had reason to believe you had done him a deep injury by +unfair means. Many will share that opinion if this cause is tried. You +are his cousin, and his heir at law. I dread to see an unhappy feud +inflamed by a public trial. Is there no personal sacrifice by which I +can compensate the affront you have received, without compromising Sir +Charles Bassett's veracity, who is the soul of honor? + +"I am, yours obediently, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +She posted this letter, and Richard Bassett had no sooner received it +than he mounted his horse and rode to Wheeler's with it. + +That worthy's eyes sparkled. "Capital!" said he. "We must draw her on, +and write an answer that will read well in court." + +He concocted an epistle just the opposite of what Richard Bassett, left +to himself, would have written. Bassett copied, and sent it as his own. + + + +"LADY BASSETT--I thank you for writing to me at this moment, when I am +weighed down by slander. Your own character stands so high that you +would not deign to write to me if you believed the abuse that has been +lavished on me. With you I deplore this family feud. It is not of my +seeking; and as for this lawsuit, it is one in which the plaintiff is +really the defendant. Sir Charles has written a defamatory letter, +which has closed every house in this county to his victim. If, as I now +feel sure, you disapprove the libel, pray persuade him to retract it. +The rest our lawyers can settle, + +"Yours very respectfully, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +When Lady Bassett read this, she saw she had an adroit opponent. Yet +she wrote again: + + + +"MR. BASSETT--There are limits to my influence with Sir Charles. I have +no power to make him say one word against his convictions. + +"But my lawyer tells me you seek pecuniary compensation for an affront. +I offer you, out of my own means, which are ample, that which you +seek--offer it freely and heartily; and I honestly think you had better +receive it from me than expose yourself to the risks and mortifications +of a public trial. + +"I am, yours obediently, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +"LADY BASSETT--You have fallen into a very natural error. It is true I +sue Sir Charles Bassett for money; but that is only because the law +allows me my remedy in no other form. What really brings me into court +is the defense of my injured honor. How do you meet me? You say, +virtually, 'Never mind your character: here is money.' Permit me to +decline it on such terms. + +"A public insult cannot be cured in private. + +"Strong in my innocence, and my wrongs, I court what you call the risks +of a public trial. + +"Whatever the result, _you_ have played the honorable and womanly part +of peacemaker; and it is unfortunate for your husband that your gentle +influence is limited by his vanity, which perseveres in a cruel +slander, instead of retracting it while there is yet time. + +"I am, madam, yours obediently, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +"MR. BASSETT--I retire from a correspondence which appears to be +useless, and might, if prolonged, draw some bitter remark from me, as +it has from you. + +"After the trial, which you court and I deprecate, you will perhaps +review my letters with a more friendly eye. + +"I am, yours obediently, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +In this fencing-match between a lawyer and a lady each gained an +advantage. The lawyer's letters, as might have been expected, were the +best adapted to be read to a jury; but the lady, subtler in her way, +obtained, at a small sacrifice, what she wanted, and that without +raising the slightest suspicion of her true motive in the +correspondence. + +She announced her success to Mr. Oldfield; but, in the midst of it, she +quaked with terror at the thought of what Sir Charles would say to her +for writing to Mr. Bassett at all. + +She now, with the changeableness of her sex, hoped and prayed Mr. +Bassett would admit the anonymous letter, and so all her subtlety and +pains prove superfluous. + +Quaking secretly, but with a lovely face and serene front, she took her +place at the assizes, before the judge, and got as near him as she +could. + +The court was crowded, and many ladies present. + +_Bassett v. Bassett_ was called in a loud voice; there was a hum of +excitement, then a silence of expectation, and the plaintiff's counsel +rose to address the jury. + + +CHAPTER XII. + +"MAY it please your Lordship: Gentlemen of the Jury--The plaintiff in +this case is Richard Bassett, Esquire, the direct and lineal +representative of that old and honorable family, whose monuments are to +be seen in several churches in this county, and whose estates are the +largest, I believe, in the county. He would have succeeded, as a matter +of course, to those estates, but for an arrangement made only a year +before he was born, by which, contrary to nature and justice, he was +denuded of those estates, and they passed to the defendant. The +defendant is nowise to blame for that piece of injustice; but he +profits by it, and it might be expected that his good fortune would +soften his heart toward his unfortunate relative. I say that if +uncommon tenderness might be expected to be shown by anybody to this +deserving and unfortunate gentleman, it would be by Sir Charles +Bassett, who enjoys his cousin's ancestral estates, and can so well +appreciate what that cousin has lost by no fault of his own." + +"Hear! hear!" + +"Silence in the court!" + +_The Judge._--I must request that there may be no manifestation of +feeling. + +_Counsel._--I will endeavor to provoke none, my lord. It is a very +simple case, and I shall not occupy you long. Well, gentlemen, Mr. +Bassett is a poor man, by no fault of his; but if he is poor, he is +proud and honorable. He has met the frowns of fortune like a +gentleman--like a man. He has not solicited government for a place. He +has not whined nor lamented. He has dignified unmerited poverty by +prudence and self-denial; and, unable to forget that he is a Bassett, +he has put by a little money every year, and bought a small estate or +two, and had even applied to the Lord-Lieutenant to make him a justice +of the peace, when a most severe and unexpected blow fell upon him. +Among those large proprietors who respected him in spite of his humbler +circumstances was Mr. Hardwicke, one of the county members. Well, +gentlemen, on the 21st of last May Mr. Bassett received a letter from +Mr. Hardwicke inclosing one purporting to be from Sir Charles Bassett-- + +_The Judge._--Does Sir Charles Bassett admit the letter? + +_Defendant's Counsel_ (after a word with Oldfield).--Yes, my lord. + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--A letter admitted to be written by Sir Charles +Bassett. That letter shall be read to you. + +The letter was then read. + +The counsel resumed: "Conceive, if you can, the effect of this blow, +just as my unhappy and most deserving client was rising a little in the +world. I shall prove that it excluded him from Mr. Hardwicke's house, +and other houses too. He is a man of too much importance to risk +affronts. He has never entered the door of any gentleman in this county +since his powerful relative published this cruel libel. He has drawn +his Spartan cloak around him, and he awaits your verdict to resume that +place among you which is due to him in every way--due to him as the +heir in direct line to the wealth, and, above all, to the honor of the +Bassetts; due to him as Sir Charles Bassett's heir at law; and due to +him on account of the decency and fortitude with which he has borne +adversity, and with which he now repels foul-mouthed slander." + +"Hear! hear!" + +"Silence in the court!" + +"I have done, gentlemen, for the present. Indeed, eloquence, even if I +possessed it, would be superfluous; the facts speak for +themselves.--Call James Hardwicke, Esq." + +Mr. Hardwicke proved the receipt of the letter from Sir Charles, and +that he had sent it to Mr. Bassett; and that Mr. Bassett had not +entered his house since then, nor had he invited him. + +Mr. Bassett was then called, and, being duly trained by Wheeler, +abstained from all heat, and wore an air of dignified dejection. His +counsel examined him, and his replies bore out the opening statement. +Everybody thought him sure of a verdict. + +He was then cross-examined. Defendant's counsel pressed him about his +unfair way of shooting. The judge interfered, and said that was +trifling. If there was no substantial defense, why not settle the +matter? + +"There is a defense, my lord." + +"Then it is time you disclosed it." + +"Very well, my lord. Mr. Bassett, did you ever write an anonymous +letter?" + +"Not that I remember." + +"Oh, that appears to you a trifle. It is not so considered." + +_The Judge._--Be more particular in your question. + +"I will, my lord.--Did you ever write an anonymous letter, to make +mischief between Sir Charles and Lady Bassett?" + +"Never," said the witness; but he turned pale. + +"Do you mean to say you did not write this letter to Miss Bruce? Look +at the letter, Mr. Bassett, before you reply." + +Bassett cast one swift glance of agony at Wheeler; then braced himself +like iron. He examined the letter attentively, turned it over, lived an +age, and said it was not his writing. + +"Do you swear that?" + +"Certainly." + +_Defendant's Counsel._--I shall ask your lordship to take down that +reply. If persisted in, my client will indict the witness for perjury. + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--Don't threaten the witness as well as insult +him, please. + +_The Judge._--He is an educated man, and knows the duty he owes to God +and the defendant.--Take time, Mr. Bassett, and recollect. Did you +write that letter?" + +"No, my lord." + +Counsel waited for the judge to note the reply, then proceeded. + +"You have lately corresponded with Lady Bassett, I think?" + +"Yes. Her ladyship opened a correspondence with me." + +"It is a lie!" roared Sir Charles Bassett from the door of the grand +jury room. + +"Silence in the court!" + +_The Judge._--Who made that unseemly remark? + +_Sir Charles._--I did, my lord. My wife never corresponded with the +cur. + +_The Plaintiff._--It is only one insult more, gentlemen, and as false +as the rest. Permit me, my lord. My own counsel would never have put +the question. I would not, for the world, give Lady Bassett pain; but +Sir Charles and his counsel have extorted the truth from me. Her +ladyship did open a correspondence with me, and a friendly one. + +_The Plaintiff's Counsel._--Will your lordship ask whether that was +after the defendant had written the libel? + +The question was put, and answered in the affirmative. + +Lady Bassett hid her face in her hands. Sir Charles saw the movement, +and groaned aloud. + +_The Judge._--I beg the case may not be encumbered with irrelevant +matter. + +Counsel replied that the correspondence would be made evidence in the +case. _(To the witness.)_--You wrote this letter to Lady Bassett?" + +"Yes." + +"And every word in it?" + +"And every word in it," faltered Bassett, now ashy pale, for he began +to see the trap. + +"Then you wrote this word 'character,' and this word 'injured,' and +this word--" + +_The Judge_ (peevishly).--He tells you he wrote every word in those +letters to Lady Bassett.--What more would you have? + +_Counsel._--If your lordship will be good enough to examine the +correspondence, and compare those words in it I have underlined with +the same words in the anonymous letter, you will perhaps find I know my +business better than you seem to think. (The counsel who ventured on +this remonstrance was a sergeant.) + +"Brother Eitherside," said the judge, with a charming manner, "you +satisfied me of that, to my cost, long ago, whenever I had you against +me in a case. Please hand me the letters." + +While the judge was making a keen comparison, counsel continued the +cross-examination. + +"You are aware that this letter caused a separation between Sir Charles +Bassett and the lady he was engaged to?" + +"I know nothing about it." + +"Indeed! Well, were you acquainted with the Miss Somerset mentioned in +this letter?" + +"Slightly." + +"You have been at her house?" + +"Once or twice." + +"Which? Twice is double as often as once, you know." + +"Twice." + +"No more?" + +"Not that I recollect." + +"You wrote to her?" + +"I may have." + +"Did you, or did you not?" + +"I did." + +"What was the purport of that letter?" + +"I can't recollect at this distance of time." + +"On your oath, sir, did you not write urging her to co-operate with you +to keep Sir Charles Bassett from marrying his affianced, Miss Bella +Bruce, to whom that anonymous letter was written with the same object?" + +The perspiration now rolled in visible drops down the tortured liar's +face. Yet still, by a gigantic effort, he stood firm, and even planted +a blow. + +"I did not write the anonymous letter. But I believe I told Miss +Somerset I loved Miss Bruce, and that _her_ lover was robbing me of +mine, as he had robbed me of everything else." + +"And that was all you said--on your oath?" + +"All I can recollect." With this the strong man, cowed, terrified, +expecting his letter to Somerset to be produced, and so the iron chain +of evidence completed, gasped out, "Man, you tear open all my wounds at +once!" and with this burst out sobbing, and lamenting aloud that he had +ever been born. + +Counsel waited calmly till he should be in a condition to receive +another dose. + +"Oh, will nobody stop this cruel trial?" said Lady Bassett, with the +tears trickling down her face. + +The judge heard this remark without seeming to do so. + +He said to defendant's counsel, "Whatever the truth may be, you have +proved enough to show Sir Charles Bassett might well have an honest +conviction that Mr. Bassett had done a dastardly act. Whether a jury +would ever agree on a question of handwriting must always be doubtful. +Looking at the relationship of the parties, is it advisable to carry +this matter further? If I might advise the gentlemen, they would each +consent to withdraw a juror." + +Upon this suggestion the counsel for both parties put their heads +together in animated whispers; and during this the judge made a remark +to the jury, intended for the public: "Since Lady Bassett's name has +been drawn into this, I must say that I have read her letters to Mr. +Bassett, and they are such as she could write without in the least +compromising her husband. Indeed, now the defense is disclosed, they +appear to me to be wise and kindly letters, such as only a good wife, a +high-bred lady, and a true Christian could write in so delicate a +matter." + +_Plaintiff's Counsel._--My lord, we are agreed to withdraw a juror. + +_Defendant's Counsel._--Out of respect for your lordship's advice, and +not from any doubt of the result on _our_ part. + +_The Crier._--WACE _v._ HALIBURTON! + +And so the car of justice rolled on till it came to Wheeler v. Bassett. + +This case was soon disposed of. + +Sir Charles Bassett was dignified and calm in the witness-box, and +treated the whole matter with high-bred nonchalance, as one unworthy of +the attention the Court was good enough to bestow on it. The judge +disapproved the assault, but said the plaintiff had drawn it on himself +by unprofessional conduct, and by threatening a gentleman in his own +house. Verdict for the plaintiff--40s. The judge refused to certify +for costs. + +Lady Bassett, her throat parched with excitement, drove home, and +awaited her husband's return with no little anxiety. As soon as she +heard him in his dressing-room she glided in and went down on her knees +to him. "Pray, pray don't scold me; I couldn't bear you to be defeated, +Charles." + +Sir Charles raised her, but did not kiss her. + +"You think only of me," said he, rather sadly. "It is a sorry victory, +too dearly bought." + +Then she began to cry. + +Sir Charles begged her not to cry; but still he did not kiss her, nor +conceal his mortification: he hardly spoke to her for several days. + +She accepted her disgrace pensively and patiently. She thought it all +over, and felt her husband was right, and loved her like a man. But she +thought, also, that she was not very wrong to love him in her way. +Wrong or not, she felt she could not sit idle and see his enemy defeat +him. + +The coolness died away by degrees, with so much humility on one side +and so much love on both: but the subject was interdicted forever. + +A week after the trial Lady Bassett wrote to Mrs. Marsh, under cover to +Mr. Oldfield, and told her how the trial had gone, and, with many +expressions of gratitude, invited her and her husband to Huntercombe +Hall. She told Sir Charles what she had done, and he wore a very +strange look. "Might I suggest that we have them alone?" said he dryly. + +"By all means," said Lady Bassett. "I don't want to share my paragon +with anybody." + +In due course a reply came; Mr. and Mrs. Marsh would avail themselves +some day of Lady Bassett's kindness: at present they were going abroad. +The letter was written by a man's hand. + +About this time Oldfield sent Sir Charles Miss Somerset's deed, +canceled, and told him she had married a man of fortune, who was +devoted to her, and preferred to take her without any dowry. + + + +Bassett and Wheeler went home, crestfallen, and dined together. They +discussed the two trials, and each blamed the other. They quarreled and +parted: and Wheeler sent in an enormous bill, extending over five +years. Eighty-five items began thus: "Attending you at your house for +several hours, on which occasion you asked my advice as to whether--" +etc. + +Now as a great many of these attendances had been really to shoot game +and dine on rabbits at Bassett's expense, he thought it hard the +conversation should be charged and the rabbits not. + +Disgusted with his defeat, and resolved to evade this bill, he +discharged his servant, and put a retired soldier into his house, armed +him with a blunderbuss, and ordered him to keep all doors closed, and +present the weapon aforesaid at all rate collectors, tax collectors, +debt collectors, and applicants for money to build churches or convert +the heathen; but not to _fire_ at anybody except his friend Wheeler, +nor at him unless he should try to shove a writ in at some chink of the +building. + +This done, he went on his travels, third-class, with his eyes always +open, and his heart full of bitterness. + +Nothing happened to Richard Bassett on his travels that I need relate +until one evening when he alighted at a small commercial inn in the +city of York, and there met a person whose influence on the events I am +about to relate seems at this moment incredible to me, though it is +simple fact. + +He found the commercial room empty, and rang the bell. In came the +waiter, a strapping girl, with coal-black eyes and brows to match, and +a brown skin, but glowing cheeks. + +They both started at sight of each other. It was Polly Somerset. + +"Why, Polly! How d'ye do? How do you come here?" + +"It's along of you I'm here, young man," said Polly, and began to +whimper. She told him her sister had found out from the page she had +been colloguing with him, and had never treated her like a sister after +that. "And when she married a gentleman she wouldn't have me aside her +for all I could say, but she did pack me off into service, and here I +be." + +The girl was handsome, and had a liking for him. Bassett was idle, and +time hung heavy on his hands: he stayed at the inn a fortnight, more +for Polly's company than anything: and at last offered to put her into +a vacant cottage on his own little estate of Highmore. But the girl was +shrewd, and had seen a great deal of life this last three years; she +liked Richard in her way, but she saw he was all self, and she would +not trust him. "Nay," said she, "I'll not break with Rhoda for any +young man in Britain. If I leave service she will never own me at all: +she is as hard as iron." + +"Well, but you might come and take service near me, and then we could +often get a word together." + +"Oh, I'm agreeable to that: you find me a good place. I like an inn +best; one sees fresh faces." + +Bassett promised to manage that for her. On reaching home he found a +conciliatory letter from Wheeler, coupled with his permission to tax +the bill according to his own notion of justice. This and other letters +were in an outhouse; the old soldier had not permitted them to +penetrate the fortress. He had entered into the spirit of his +instructions, and to him a letter was a probable hand-grenade. + +Bassett sent for Wheeler; the bill was reduced, and a small payment +made; the rest postponed till better times. Wheeler was then consulted +about Polly, and he told his client the landlady of the "Lamb" wanted a +good active waitress; he thought he could arrange that little affair. + +In due course, thanks to this artist, Mary Wells, hitherto known as +Polly Somerset, landed with her boxes at the "Lamb "; and with her +quick foot, her black eyes, and ready tongue soon added to the +popularity of the inn. Richard Bassett, Esq., for one, used to sup +there now and then with his friend Wheeler, and even sleep there after +supper. + +By-and-by the vicar of Huntercombe wanted a servant, and offered to +engage Mary Wells. + +She thought twice about that. She could neither write nor read, and +therefore was dreadfully dull without company; the bustle of an inn, +and people coming and going, amused her. However, it was a temptation +to be near Richard Bassett; so she accepted at last. Unable to write, +she could not consult him; and she made sure he would be delighted. + +But when she got into the village the prudent Mr. Bassett drew in his +horns, and avoided her. She was mortified and very angry. She revenged +herself on her employer; broke double her wages. The vicar had never +been able to convert a smasher; so he parted with her very readily to +Lady Bassett, with a hint that she was rather unfortunate in glass and +china. + +In that large house her spirits rose, and, having a hearty manner and a +clapper tongue, she became a general favorite. + +One day she met Mr. Bassett in the village, and he seemed delighted at +the sight of her, and begged her to meet him that night at a certain +place where Sir Charles's garden was divided from his own by a ha-ha. +It was a very secluded spot, shut out from view, even in daylight, by +the trees and shrubs and the winding nature of the walk that led to it; +yet it was scarcely a hundred yards from Huntercombe Hall. + +Mary Wells came to the tryst, but in no amorous mood. She came merely +to tell Mr. Bassett her mind, viz., that he was a shabby fellow, and +she had had her cry, and didn't care a straw for him now. And she did +tell him so, in a loud voice, and with a flushed cheek. + +But he set to work, humbly and patiently, to pacify her; he represented +that, in a small house like the vicarage, every thing is known; he +should have ruined her character if he had not held aloof. "But it is +different now," said he. "You can run out of Huntercombe House, and +meet me here, and nobody be the wiser." + +"Not I," said Mary Wells, with a toss. "The worse thing a girl can do +is to keep company with a gentleman. She must meet him in holes and +corners, and be flung off, like an old glove, when she has served his +turn." + +"That will never happen to you, Polly dear. We must be prudent for the +present; but I shall be more my own master some day, and then you will +see how I love you." + +"Seeing is believing," said the girl, sullenly. "You be too fond of +yourself to love the likes o' me." + +Such was the warning her natural shrewdness gave her. But perseverance +undermined it. Bassett so often threw out hints of what he would do +some day, mixed with warm protestations of love, that she began almost +to hope he would marry her. She really liked him; his fine figure and +his color pleased her eye, and he had a plausible tongue to boot. + +As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his senses; but, for +his heart, she had little place in that. What he courted her for just +now was to keep him informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall. +His morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to Mary +Wells's gossip. He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappoint +him. She never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies or +exaggerations. She was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits, +and greeted him thus: "What d'ye think? I'm riz! Mrs. Eden, that +dresses my lady's hair, she took ill yesterday, and I told the +housekeeper I was used to dress hair, and she told my lady. If you +didn't please our Rhoda at that, 'twas as much as your life was worth. +You mustn't be thinking of your young man with her hair in your hand, +or she'd rouse you with a good crack on the crown with a hair-brush. So +I dressed my lady's hair, and handled it like old chaney; by the same +token, she is so pleased with me you can't think. She is a real lady; +not like our Rhoda. Speaks as civil to me as if I was one of her own +sort; and, says she, 'I should like to have you about me, if I might.' +I had it on my tongue to tell her she was mistress; but I was a little +skeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me about her; I +see it in her eye." + +Bassett was delighted at this news, but he did not speak his mind all +at once; the time was not come. He let the gypsy rattle on, and bided +his time. He flattered her, and said he envied Lady Bassett to have +such a beautiful girl about her. "I'll let my hair grow," said he. + +"Ay, do," said she, "and then I'll pull it for you." + +This challenge ended in a little struggle for a kiss, the sincerity of +which was doubtful. Polly resisted vigorously, to be sure, but briefly, +and, having given in, returned it. + +One day she told him Sir Charles had met her plump, and had given a +great start. + +This made Bassett very uneasy. "Confound it, he will turn you away. He +will say, 'This girl knows too much.'" + +"How simple you be!" said the girl. "D'ye think I let him know? Says +he, 'I think I have seen you before.' 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'I was +housemaid here before my lady had me to dress her.' 'No,' says he, 'I +mean in London--in Mayfair, you know.' I declare you might ha' knocked +me down wi' a feather. So I looks in his face, as cool as marble, and I +said, 'No, sir; I never had the luck to see London, sir,' says I. 'All +the better for you,' says he; and he swallowed it like spring water, as +sister Rhoda used to say when she told one and they believed it." + +"You are a clever girl," said Bassett. "He would have turned you out of +the house if he had known who you were." + +She disappointed him in one thing; she was bad at answering questions. +Morally she was not quite so great an egotist as himself, but +intellectually a greater. Her volubility was all egotism. She could +scarcely say ten words, except about herself. So, when Bassett +questioned her about Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, she said "Yes," or +"No," or "I don't know," and was off at a tangent to her own sayings +and doings. + +Bassett, however, by great patience and tact, extracted from her at +last that Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were both sore at not having +children, and that Lady Bassett bore the blame. + +"That is a good joke," said he. "The smoke-dried rake! Polly, you might +do me a good turn. You have got her ear; open her eyes for me. What +might not happen?" His eyes shone fiendishly. + +The young woman shook her head. "Me meddle between man and wife! I'm +too fond of my place." + +"Ah, you don't love me as I love you. You think only of yourself." + +"And what do you think of? Do you love me well enough to find me a +better place, if you get me turned out of Huntercombe Hall?" + +"Yes, I will; a much better." + +"That is a bargain." + +Mary Wells was silly in some things, but she was very cunning, too; and +she knew Richard Bassett's hobby. She told him to mind himself, as well +as Sir Charles, or perhaps he would die a bachelor, and so his flesh +and blood would never inherit Huntercombe. This remark entered his +mind. The trial, though apparently a drawn battle, had been fatal to +him--he was cut; he dared not pay his addresses to any lady in the +county, and he often felt very lonely now. So everything combined to +draw him toward Mary Wells--her swarthy beauty, which shone out at +church like a black diamond among the other women; his own loneliness; +and the pleasure these stolen meetings gave him. Custom itself is +pleasant, and the company of this handsome chatterbox became a habit, +and an agreeable one. The young woman herself employed a woman's arts; +she was cold and loving by turns till at last he gave her what she was +working for, a downright promise of marriage. She pretended not to +believe him, and so led him further; he swore he would marry her. + +He made one stipulation, however. She really must learn to read and +write first. + +When he had sworn this Mary became more uniformly affectionate; and as +women who have been in service learn great self-government, and can +generally please so long as it serves their turn, she made herself so +agreeable to him that he began really to have a downright liking for +her--a liking bounded, of course, by his incurable selfishness; but as +for his hobby, that was on her side. + +Now learning to read and write was wormwood to Mary Wells; but the +prize was so great; she knew all about the Huntercombe estates, partly +from her sister, partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongs +even to this girl.) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, even on the +severe condition of becoming a scholar. She set about it as follows: +One day that she was doing Lady Bassett's hair she sighed several +times. This was to attract the lady's attention, and it succeeded. + +"Is there anything the matter, Mary?" + +"No, my lady." + +"I think there is." + +"Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my own people's +fault for not sending of me to school. I might be married to-morrow if +I could only read and write." + +"And can you not?" + +"No, my lady." + +"Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays." + +"La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village." + +"Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not too +late. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. Shall +I arrange for you to go to it?" + +"Thank you, my lady. But then--" + +"Well?" + +"All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me." + +"The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?" + +"Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, +either. But I won't be his wife to shame him." (Another sigh.) + +"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her heart, "you shall +not be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will try +and teach you myself." + +Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Bassett received them rather coldly. +She gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day; +and Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half an +hour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She was +quick, and learned very fast. In two months she could read a great deal +more than she could understand, and could write slowly but very +clearly. + +Now by this time Lady Bassett had become so interested in her pupil +that she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts of +the toilet when her services were not required. + +Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England. +Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She never +said one word to Bassett about Lady Bassett's lessons. She kept strict +silence till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line to +say she had learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he would +keep his promise. + +Bassett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, he +suspected it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their next +meeting, who had written that note for her. + +"You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like," was the reply. + +Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. At +present, however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taught +her. + +"I had to teach myself. Nobody cares enough for me to teach me. Well, +I'll forgive you if you will write me a nice letter for mine." + +"What! when we can meet here and say everything?" + +"No matter; I have written to you, and you might write to me. They all +get letters, except me; and the jades hold 'em up to me: they see I +never get one. When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It will +only cost you a penny. I'm sure I don't ask you for much." + +Bassett humored her in this, and in one of his letters called her his +wife that was to be. + +This pleased her so much that the next time they met she hung round his +neck with a good deal of feminine grace. + +Richard Bassett was a man who now lived in the future. Everybody in the +county believed he had written that anonymous letter, and he had no +hope of shining by his own light. It was bitter to resign his personal +hopes; but he did, and sullenly resolved to be obscure himself, but the +father of the future heirs of Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, +and lay the blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had blackened him +in the county, and put it out of his power to win a lady's hand. + +He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he had not the courage +to tell him all at once what a wife he had selected. + +The consequence of this half confession was that Wheeler went to work +to find him a girl with money, and not under county influence. + +One of Wheeler's clients was a retired citizen, living in a pretty +villa near the market town. Mr. Wright employed him in little matters, +and found him active and attentive. There was a Miss Wright, a meek +little girl, palish, on whom her father doted. Wheeler talked to this +girl of his friend Bassett, his virtues and his wrongs, and interested +the young lady in him. This done, he brought him to the house, and the +girl, being slight and delicate, gazed with gentle but undisguised +admiration on Bassett's _torso._ Wheeler had told Richard Miss Wright +was to have seven thousand pounds on her wedding-day, and that excited +a corresponding admiration in the athletic gentleman. + +After that Bassett often called by himself, and the father encouraged +the intimacy. He was old, and wished to see his daughter married before +he left her and this seemed an eligible match, though not a brilliant +one; a bit of land and a good name on one side, a smart bit of money on +the other. The thing went on wheels. Richard Bassett was engaged to +Jane Wright almost before he was aware. + +Now he felt uneasy about Mary Wells, very uneasy; but it was only the +uneasiness of selfishness. + +He began to try and prepare; he affected business visits to distant +places, etc., in order to break off by degrees. By this means their +meetings were comparatively few. When they did meet (which was now +generally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by telling her +he had encountered losses, and feared that to marry her would be a bad +job for her as well as for him, especially if she should have children. + +Mary replied she had been used to work, and would rather work for a +husband than any other master. + +On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a gentleman ever +broke his oath. + +"Never," said Richard. + +In short, she gave him no opening. She would not quarrel. She adhered +to him as she had never adhered to anything but a lie before. + +Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He coolly cut her; +never came to the trysting-place; did not answer her letters; and, +being a reckless egotist, married Jane Wright all in a hurry, by +special license. + +He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, and engaged the +ringers to ring the church-bells from six o'clock till sundown. This +was for Sir Charles's ears. + +It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was commencing her toilet +in an indolent way, with Mary Wells in attendance, when the +church-bells of Huntercombe struck up a merry peal. + +"Ah!" said Lady Bassett; "what is that for? Do you know, Mary?" + +"No, my lady. Shall I ask?" + +"No; I dare say it is a village wedding." + +"No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Our +kitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and know +what it is for." Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid she +caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to her +sweetheart, and he told her directly. + +Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells. + +"They are always sad--saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poor +things! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sad +to me--sadder than usual, somehow." + + + +The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shot +in--"'Tis for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home to +Highmore to-day." + +"Mr. Bassett--married--that is sudden. Who could he find to marry him?" +There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate the news, +and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, sick with +the sudden blow. + +Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman's +eye, but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise she +had gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the sound +of those church-bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir Charles; +but she did not lift her head, even to give this order. + +Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles's dressing-room. + +"Come in," said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it was his valet. + +Mary Wells just opened the door and held it ajar. "My lady bids me tell +you, sir, the bells are ringing for Mr. Bassett; he's married, and +brings her home tonight." + +A dead silence marked the effect of this announcement on Sir Charles. +Mary Wells waited. + + + +"May Heaven's curse light on that marriage, and no child of theirs ever +take my place in this house!" + +"A-a-men!" said Mary Wells. + +"Thank you, sir!" said Sir Charles. He took her voice for a man's, so +deep and guttural was her "A--a--men" with concentrated passion. + +She closed the door and crept back to her mistress. + +Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair down and her +shoulders bare. Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work; +but very soon Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass. +"Mary!" said she, "what _is_ the matter? You look ghastly, and your +hands are as cold as ice. Are you faint?" + +"No." + +"Then you are ill; very ill." + +"I have taken a chill," said Mary, doggedly. + +"Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spirits +and hot water--quite hot." + +Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back +hair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door. + +"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone. + +"My lady." + +"I should like to hear what the bride is like." + +"I'll know that to-night," said Mary, grinding her teeth. + +"I shall not require you again till bedtime." + +Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own +garret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry, +upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and +writhed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded. + +In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. She +got up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like a +savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot. + +She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs; +but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan. +She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some +spirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. They +sent the devil into her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek. +She had a little scarlet shawl; she put it over her head, and went into +the village. She found it astir with expectation. + +Mr. Bassett's house stood near the highway, but the entrance to the +premises was private, and through a long white gate. + +By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got on that heap and +waited. + +When she had been there about half an hour, Richard Bassett drove up in +a hired carriage, with his pale little wife beside him. At his own gate +his eye encountered Mary Wells, and he started. She stood above him, +with her arms folded grandly; her cheek, so swarthy and ruddy, was now +pale, and her black eyes glittered like basilisks at him and his bride. +The whole woman seemed lifted out of her low condition, and dignified +by wrong. + +He had to sustain her look for a few seconds, while the gate was being +opened, and it seemed an age. He felt his first pang of remorse when he +saw that swarthy, ruddy cheek so pale. Then came admiration of her +beauty, and disgust at the woman for whom he had jilted her; and that +gave way to fear: the hater looked into those glittering eyes, and saw +he had roused a hate as unrelenting as his own. + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +FOR the first few days Richard Bassett expected some annoyance from +Mary Wells; but none came, and he began to flatter himself she was too +fond of him to give him pain. + +This impression was shaken about ten days after the little scene I have +described. He received a short note from her, as follows: + + + +"SIR--You must meet me to-night, at the same place, eight o'clock. If +you do not come it will be the worse for you. + +"M. W." + + + +Richard Bassett's inclination was to treat this summons with contempt; +but he thought it would be wiser to go and see whether the girl had any +hostile intentions. Accordingly he went to the tryst. He waited for +some time, and at last he heard a quick, firm foot, and Mary Wells +appeared. She was hooded with her scarlet shawl, that contrasted +admirably with her coal-black hair; and out of this scarlet frame her +dark eyes glittered. She stood before him in silence. + +He said nothing. + +She was silent too for some time. But she spoke first. + +"Well, sir, you promised one, and you have married another. Now what +are you going to do for me?" + +"What _can_ I do, Mary? I'm not the first that wanted to marry for +love, but money came in his way and tempted him." + +"No, you are not the first. But that's neither here nor there, sir. +That chalk-faced girl has bought you away from me with her money, and +now I mean to have my share on't." + +"Oh, if that is all," said Richard, "we can soon settle it. I was +afraid you were going to talk about a broken heart, and all that stuff. +You are a good, sensible girl; and too beautiful to want a husband +long. I'll give you fifty pounds to forgive me." + +"Fifty pounds!" said Mary Wells, contemptuously. "What! when you +promised me I should be your wife to-day, and lady of Huntercombe Hall +by-and-by? Fifty pounds! No; not five fifties." + +"Well, I'll give you seventy-five; and if that won't do, you must go to +law, and see what you can get." + +"What, han't you had your bellyful of law? Mind, it is an unked thing +to forswear yourself, and that is what you done at the 'sizes. I have +seen what you did swear about your letter to my sister; Sir Charles +have got it all wrote down in his study: and you swore a lie to the +judge, as you swore a lie to me here under heaven, you villain!" She +raised her voice very loud. "Don't you gainsay me, or I'll soon have +you by the heels in jail for your lies. You'll do as I bid you, and +very lucky to be let off so cheap. You was to be my master, but you +chose her instead: well, then, you shall be my servant. You shall come +here every Saturday at eight o'clock, and bring me a sovereign, which I +never could keep a lump o' money, and I have had one or two from Rhoda; +so I'll take it a sovereign a week till I get a husband of my own sort, +and then you'll have to come down handsome once for all." + +Bassett knitted his brows and thought hard. His natural impulse was to +defy her; but it struck him that a great many things might happen in a +few months; so at last he said, humbly, "I consent. I have been to +blame. Only I'd rather pay you this money in some other way." + +"My way, or none." + +"Very well, then, I will bring it you as you say." + +"Mind you do, then," said Mary Wells, and turned haughtily on her heel. + +Bassett never ventured to absent himself at the hour, and, at first, +the blackmail was delivered and received with scarcely a word; but +by-and-by old habits so far revived that some little conversation took +place. + +Then, after a while, Bassett used to tell her he was unhappy, and she +used to reply she was glad of it. + +Then he began to speak slightingly of his wife, and say what a fool he +had been to marry a poor, silly nonentity, when be might have wedded a +beauty. + +Mary Wells, being intensely vain, listened with complacency to this, +although she replied coldly and harshly. + +By-and-by her natural volubility overpowered her, and she talked to +Bassett about herself and Huntercombe House, but always with a secret +reserve. + +Later--such is the force of habit--each used to look forward with +satisfaction to the Saturday meeting, although each distrusted and +feared the other at bottom. + +Later still that came to pass which Mary Wells had planned from the +first with deep malice, and that shrewd insight into human nature which +many a low woman has--the cooler she was the warmer did Richard Bassett +grow, till at last, contrasting his pale, meek little wife with this +glowing Hebe, he conceived an unholy liking for the latter. She met it +sometimes with coldness and reproaches, sometimes with affected alarm, +sometimes with a half-yielding manner, and so tormented him to her +heart's content, and undermined his affection for his wife. Thus she +revenged herself on them both to her heart's content. + +But malice so perverse is apt to recoil on itself; and women, in +particular, should not undertake a long and subtle revenge of this +sort; since the strongest have their hours of weakness, and are +surprised into things they never intended. The subsequent history of +Mary Wells will exemplify this. Meantime, however, meek little Mrs. +Bassett was no match for the beauty and low cunning of her rival. + +Yet a time came when she defended herself unconsciously. She did +something that made her husband most solicitous for her welfare and +happiness. He began to watch her health with maternal care, to shield +her from draughts, to take care of her diet, to indulge her in all her +whims instead of snubbing her, and to pet her, till she was the +happiest wife in England for a time. She deserved this at his hands, +for she assisted him there where his heart was fixed; she aided his +hobby; did more for it than any other creature in England could. + + + +To return to Huntercombe Hall: the loving couple that owned it were no +longer happy. The hope of offspring was now deserting them, and the +disappointment was cruel. They suffered deeply, with this +difference--that Lady Bassett pined and Sir Charles Bassett fretted. + +The woman's grief was more pure and profound than the man's. If there +had been no Richard Bassett in the world, still her bosom would have +yearned and pined, and the great cry of Nature, "Give me children or I +die," would have been in her heart, though it would never have risen to +her lips. + +Sir Charles had, of course, less of this profound instinct than his +wife, but he had it too; only in him the feeling was adulterated and at +the same time imbittered by one less simple and noble. An enemy sat at +his gate. That enemy, whose enduring malice had at last begotten equal +hostility in the childless baronet, was now married, and would probably +have heirs; and, if so, that hateful brood--the spawn of an anonymous +letter-writer--would surely inherit Bassett and Huntercombe, succeeding +to Sir Charles Bassett, deceased without issue. This chafed the +childless man, and gradually undermined a temper habitually sweet, +though subject, as we have seen, to violent ebullitions where the +provocation was intolerable. Sir Charles, then, smarting under his +wound, spoke now and then rather unkindly to the wife he loved so +devotedly; that is to say, his manner sometimes implied that he blamed +her for their joint calamity. + +Lady Bassett submitted to these stings in silence. They were rare, and +speedily followed by touching regrets; and even had it not been so she +would have borne them with resignation; for this motherless wife loved +her husband with all a wife's devotion and a mother's unselfish +patience. Let this be remembered to her credit. It is the truth, and +she may need it. + +Her own yearning was too deep and sad for fretfulness; yet though, +unlike her husband's, it never broke out in anger, the day was gone by +when she could keep it always silent. It welled out of her at times in +ways that were truly womanly and touching. + +When she called on a wife the lady was sure to parade her children. The +boasted tact of women--a quality the narrow compass of which has +escaped their undiscriminating eulogists--was sure to be swept away by +maternal egotism; and then poor Lady Bassett would admire the children +loudly, and kiss them, to please the cruel egotist, and hide the tears +that rose to her own eyes; but she would shorten her visit. + +When a child died in the village Mary Wells was sure to be sent with +words of comfort and substantial marks of sympathy. + +Scarcely a day passed that something or other did not happen to make +the wound bleed; but I will confine myself to two occasions, on each of +which her heart's agony spoke out, and so revealed how much it must +have endured in silence. + +Since the day when Sir Charles allowed her to sit in a little room +close to his study while he received Mr. Wheeler's visit she had fitted +up that room, and often sat there to be near Sir Charles; and he would +sometimes call her in and tell her his justice cases. One day she was +there when the constable brought in a prisoner and several witnesses. +The accused was a stout, florid girl, with plump cheeks and pale gray +eyes. She seemed all health, stupidity, and simplicity. She carried a +child on her left arm. No dweller in cities could suspect this face of +crime. As well indict a calf. + +Yet the witnesses proved beyond a doubt that she had been seen with her +baby in the neighborhood of a certain old well on a certain day at +noon; that soon after noon she had been seen on the road without her +baby, and being asked what had become of it, had said she had left it +with her aunt, ten miles off; and that about an hour after that a faint +cry had been heard at the bottom of the old well--it was ninety feet +deep; people had assembled, and a brave farmer's boy had been lowered +in the bight of a cart-rope, and had brought up a dead hen, and a live +child, bleeding at the cheek, having fallen on a heap of fagots at the +bottom of the well; which child was the prisoner's. + +Sir Charles had the evidence written down, and then told the accused +she might make a counter-statement if she chose, but it would be wiser +to say nothing at all. + +Thereupon the accused dropped him a little short courtesy, looked him +steadily in the face with her pale gray eyes, and delivered herself as +follows: + +"If you please, sir, I was a-sitting by th' old well, with baby in my +arms; and I was mortal tired, I was, wi' carring of him; he be uncommon +heavy for his age; and, if you please, sir, he is uncommon resolute; +and while I was so he give a leap right out of my arms and fell down +th' old well. I screams, and runs away to tell my brother's wife, as +lives at top of the hill; but she was gone into North Wood for dry +sticks to light her oven; and when I comes back they had got him out of +the well, and I claims him directly; and the constable said we must +come before you, sir; so here we be." + +This she delivered very glibly, without tremulousness, hesitation, or +the shadow of a blush, and dropped another little courtesy at the end +to Sir Charles. + +Thereupon he said not one word to her, but committed her for trial, and +gave the farmer's boy a sovereign. + +The people were no sooner gone than Lady Bassett came in, with the +tears streaming, and threw herself at her husband's knees. "Oh, +Charles! can such things be? Does God give a child to a woman that has +the heart to kill it, and refuse one to me, who would give my heart's +blood to save a hair of its little head? Oh, what have we done that he +singles us out to be so cruel to us?" + +Then Sir Charles tried to comfort her, but could not, and the childless +ones wept together. + + + +It began to be whispered that Mrs. Bassett was in the family way. +Neither Sir Charles nor Lady Bassett mentioned this rumor. It would +have been like rubbing vitriol into their own wounds. But this reserve +was broken through one day. It was a sunny afternoon in June, just +thirteen months after Mr. Bassett's wedding--Lady Bassett was with her +husband in his study, settling invitations for a ball, and writing +them--when the church-bells struck up a merry peal. They both left off, +and looked at each other eloquently. Lady Bassett went out, but soon +returned, looking pale and wild. + +_"Yes!"_ said she, with forced calmness. Then, suddenly losing her +self-command, she broke out, pointing through the window at Highmore, +_"He_ has got a fine boy--to take our place here. Kill me, Charles! +Send me to heaven to pray for you, and take another wife that will love +you less but be like other wives. That villain has married a fruitful +vine, and" (lifting both arms to heaven, with a gesture unspeakably +piteous, poetic, and touching) "I am a barren stock." + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +OF all the fools Nature produces with the help of Society, fathers of +first-borns are about the most offensive. + +The mothers of ditto are bores too, flinging their human dumplings at +every head; but, considering the tortures they have suffered, and the +anguish the little egotistical viper they have just hatched will most +likely give them, and considering further that their love of their +firstborn is greater than their pride, and their pride unstained by +vanity, one must make allowances for them. + +But the male parent is not so excusable. His fussy vanity is an +inferior article to the mother's silly but amiable pride. His obtrusive +affection is two-thirds of it egotism, and blindish egotism, too; for +if, at the very commencement of the wife's pregnancy the husband is +sent to India, or hanged, the little angel, as they call it--Lord +forgive them!--is nurtured from a speck to a mature infant by the other +parent, and finally brought into the world by her just as effectually +as if her male confederate had been tied to her apron-string: all the +time, instead of expatriated or hanged. + +Therefore the Law--for want, I suppose, of studying Medicine--is a +little inconsiderate in giving children to fathers, and taking them by +force from such mothers _as can support them;_ and therefore let +Gallina go on clucking over her first-born, but Gallus be quiet, or +sing a little smaller. + +With these preliminary remarks, let me introduce to you a character new +in fiction, but terribly old in history-- + + THE CLUCKING COCK. + +Upon the birth of a son and heir Mr. Richard Bassett was inflated +almost to bursting. He became suddenly hospitable, collected all his +few friends about him, and showed them all the Boy at great length, and +talked Boy and little else. He went out into the world and made calls +on people merely to remind them he had a son and heir. + +His self-gratulation took a dozen forms; perhaps the most amusing, and +the richest food for satire, was the mock-querulous style, of which he +showed himself a master. + +"Don't you ever marry," said he to Wheeler and others. "Look at me; do +you think I am the master of my own house? Not I; I am a regular slave. +First, there is a monthly nurse, who orders me out of my wife's +presence, or graciously lets me in, just as she pleases; that is Queen +1. Then there's a wet-nurse, Queen 2, whom I must humor in everything, +or she will quarrel with me, and avenge herself by souring her milk. +But these are mild tyrants compared with the young King himself. If he +does but squall we must all skip, and find out what he ails, or what he +wants. As for me, I am looked upon as a necessary evil; the women seem +to admit that a father is an incumbrance without which these little +angels could not exist, but that is all." + +He had a christening feast, and it was pretty well attended, for he +reminded all he asked that the young Christian was the heir to the +Bassett estates. They feasted, and the church-bells rang merrily. + +He had his pew in the church new lined with cloth, and took his wife to +be churched. The nurse was in the pew too, with his son and heir. It +squalled and spoiled the Liturgy. Thereat Gallus chuckled. + +He made a gravel-walk all along the ha-ha that separated his garden +from Sir Charles's, and called it "The Heir's Walk." Here the nurse and +child used to parade on sunny afternoons. + +He got an army of workmen, and built a nursery fit for a duke's nine +children. It occupied two entire stories, and rose in the form of a +square tower high above the rest of his house, which, indeed, was as +humble as "The Heir's Tower" was pretentious. "The Heir's Tower" had a +flat lead roof easy of access, and from it you could inspect +Huntercombe Hall, and see what was done on the lawn or at some of the +windows. + +Here, in the August afternoons, Mr. and Mrs. Bassett used to sit +drinking their tea, with nurse and child; and Bassett would talk to his +unconscious boy, and tell him that the great house and all that +belonged to it should be his in spite of the arts that had been used to +rob him of it. + +Now, of course, the greater part of all this gratulation was merely +amusing, and did no harm except stirring up the bile of a few old +bachelors, and imbittering them worse than ever against clucking cocks, +crowing hens, inflated parents, and matrimony in general. + +But the overflow of it reached Huntercombe Hall, and gave cruel pain to +the childless ones, over whom this inflated father was, in fact, +exulting. + +As for the christening, and the bells that pealed for it, and the +subsequent churching, they bore these things with sore hearts, and +bravely, being things of course. But when it came to their ears that +Bassett and his family called his new gravel-walk "The Heir's Walk," +and his ridiculous nursery "The Heir's Tower," this roused a bitter +animosity, and, indeed, led to reprisals. Sir Charles built a long wall +at the edge of his garden, shutting out "The Heir's Walk" and +intercepting the view of his own premises from that walk. + +Then Mr. Bassett made a little hill at the end of his walk, so that the +heir might get one peep over the wall at his rich inheritance. + +Then Sir Charles began to fell timber on a gigantic scale. He went to +work with several gangs of woodmen, and all his woods, which were very +extensive, rang with the ax, and the trees fell like corn. He made no +secret that he was going to sell timber to the tune of several thousand +pounds and settle it on his wife. + +Then Richard Bassett, through Wheeler, his attorney, remonstrated in +his own name, and that of his son, against this excessive fall of +timber on an entailed estate. + +Sir Charles chafed like a lion stung by a gad-fly, but vouchsafed no +reply: the answer came from Mr. Oldfield; he said Sir Charles had a +right under the entail to fell every stick of timber, and turn his +woods into arable ground, if he chose; and even if he had not, looking +at his age and his wife's, it was extremely improbable that Richard +Bassett would inherit the estates: the said Richard Bassett was not +personally named in the entail, and his rights were all in supposition: +if Mr. Wheeler thought he could dispute both these positions, the Court +of Chancery was open to his client. + +Then Wheeler advised Bassett to avoid the Court of Chancery in a matter +so debatable; and Sir Charles felled all the more for the protest. The +dead bodies of the trees fell across each other, and daylight peeped +through the thick woods. It was like the clearing of a primeval forest. + +Richard Bassett went about with a witness and counted the fallen. + +The poor were allowed the lopwood: they thronged in for miles round, +and each built himself a great wood pile for the winter; the poor +blessed Sir Charles: he gave the proceeds, thirteen thousand pounds, to +his wife for her separate use. He did not tie it up. He restricted her +no further than this: she undertook never to draw above 100 pounds at a +time without consulting Mr. Oldfield as to the application. Sir Charles +said he should add to this fund every year; his beloved wife should not +be poor, even if the hated cousin should outlive him and turn her out +of Huntercombe. + +And so passed the summer of that year; then the autumn; and then came a +singularly mild winter. There was more hunting than usual, and Richard +Bassett, whom his wife's fortune enabled to cut a better figure than +before, was often in the field, mounted on a great bony horse that was +not so fast as some, being half-bred, but a wonderful jumper. + +Even in this pastime the cousins were rivals. Sir Charles's favorite +horse was a magnificent thoroughbred, who was seldom far off at the +finish: over good ground Richard's cocktail had no chance with him; but +sometimes, if toward the close of the run they came to stiff fallows +and strong fences, the great strength of the inferior animal, and that +prudent reserve of his powers which distinguishes the canny cocktail +from the higher-blooded animal, would give him the advantage. + +Of this there occurred, on a certain 18th of November, an example +fraught with very serious consequences. + +That day the hounds met on Sir Charles's estate. Sir Charles and Lady +Bassett breakfasted in Pink; he had on his scarlet coat, white tie, +irreproachable buckskins, and top-boots. (It seemed a pity a speck of +dirt should fall on them.) Lady Bassett was in her riding-habit; and +when she mounted her pony, and went to cover by his side, with her +blue-velvet cap and her red-brown hair, she looked more like a +brilliant flower than a mere woman. + +A veteran fox was soon found, and went away with unusual courage and +speed, and Lady Bassett paced homeward to wait her lord's return, with +an anxiety men laugh at, but women can appreciate. It was a form of +quiet suffering she had constantly endured, and never complained, nor +even mentioned the subject to Sir Charles but once, and then he +pooh-poohed her fancies. + +The hunt had a burst of about forty minutes that left Richard Bassett's +cocktail in the rear; and the fox got into a large beech wood with +plenty of briars, and kept dodging about it for two hours, and puzzled +the scent repeatedly. + +Richard Bassett elected not to go winding in and out among trees, risk +his horse's legs in rabbit-holes, and tire him for nothing. He had kept +for years a little note book he called "Statistics of Foxes," and that +told him an old dog-fox of uncommon strength, if dislodged from that +particular wood, would slip into Bellman's Coppice, and if driven out +of that would face the music again, would take the open country for +Higham Gorse, and probably be killed before he got there; but once +there a regiment of scythes might cut him out, but bleeding, sneezing +fox-hounds would never work him out at the tail of a long run. + +So Richard Bassett kept out of the wood, and went gently on to +Bellman's Coppice and waited outside. + +His book proved an oracle. After two hours' dodging and maneuvering the +fox came out at the very end of Bellman's Coppice, with nothing near +him but Richard Bassett. Pug gave him the white of his eye in an ugly +leer, and headed straight as a crow for Higham Gorse. + +Richard Bassett blew his horn, collected the hunt, and laid the dogs +on. Away they went, close together, thunder-mouthed on the hot scent. + +After a three miles' gallop they sighted the fox for a moment just +going over the crest of a rising ground two furlongs off. Then the +hullabbaloo and excitement grew furious, and one electric fury animated +dogs, men, and horses. Another mile, and the fox ran in sight scarcely +a furlong off; but many of the horses were distressed: the Bassetts, +however, kept up, one by his horse being fresh, the other by his +animal's native courage and speed. + +Then came some meadows, bounded by a thick hedge, and succeeded by a +plowed field of unusual size--eighty acres. + +When the fox darted into this hedge the hounds were yelling at his +heels; the hunt burst through the thin fence, expecting to see them +kill close to it. + +But the wily fox had other resources at his command than speed. +Appreciating his peril, he doubled and ran sixty yards down the ditch, +and the impetuous hounds rushed forward and overran the scent. They +raved about to and fro, till at last one of the gentlemen descried the +fox running down a double furrow in the middle of the field. He had got +into this, and so made his way more smoothly than his four-footed +pursuers could. The dogs were laid on, and away they went +helter-skelter. + +At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited them; an old +quickset had been cut down, and all the elm-trees that grew in it, and +a new quickset hedge set on a high bank with double ditches. + +The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this fence; he jumped +on to the bank, and then jumped off it into the next field. + +Richard Bassett's cocktail came up slowly, rose high, and landed his +forefeet in the field, and so scrambled on. + +Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried hard by the +fallow, caught his heels against the edge of the bank, and went +headlong into the other ditch, throwing Sir Charles over his head into +the field. Unluckily some of the trees were lying about, and Sir +Charles's head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered out +again, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider lay there +motionless. + +Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to inquire; but +presently Richard Bassett, who had greeted the accident with a laugh, +turned round in his saddle, and saw his cousin motionless, and two or +three gentlemen dismounting at the place. These were newcomers. Then he +resigned the hunt, and rode back. + +Sir Charles's cap was crushed in, and there was blood on his white +waistcoat; he was very pale, and quite insensible. + +The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm and kindly concern, +and inquired of each other what was best to be done. + +Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate opinion, and seized +it. "He must be taken home directly," said he. "We must carry him to +that farmhouse, and get a cart for him." + +He helped carry him accordingly. The farmer lent them a cart, with +straw, and they laid the insensible baronet gently on it, Richard +Bassett supporting his head. "Gentlemen," said he, rather pompously, +"at such a moment everything but the tie of kindred is forgotten." +Which resounding sentiment was warmly applauded by the honest squires. + +They took him slowly and carefully toward Huntercombe, distant about +two miles from the scene of the accident. + + + +This 18th November Lady Bassett passed much as usual with her on +hunting days. She was quietly patient till the afternoon, and then +restless, and could not settle down in any part of the house till she +got to a little room on the first floor, with a bay-window commanding +the country over which Sir Charles was hunting. In this she sat, with +her head against one of the mullions, and eyed the country-side as far +as she could see. + +Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary Wells standing and +looking at her with evident emotion. + +"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett. + +"Oh, my lady!" said Mary. And she trembled, and her hands worked. + +Lady Bassett started up with alarm painted in her countenance. + +"My lady, there's something wrong in the hunting field." + +"Sir Charles!" + +"An accident, they say." + +Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint cry. Mary Wells ran +to her. + +"Come with me directly!" cried Lady Bassett. She snatched up her +bonnet, and in another minute she and Mary Wells were on their road to +the village, questioning every body they met. + +But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. The stable-boy, +who had told the report in the kitchen of Huntercombe, said he had it +from a gentleman's groom, riding by as he stood at the gates. + +The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing rapidly by was +not confirmed by any further report, and Lady Bassett began to hope it +was false. + +But a terrible confirmation came at last. + +In the outskirts of the village mistress and servant encountered a +sorrowful procession: the cart itself, followed by five gentlemen on +horseback, pacing slowly, and downcast as at a funeral. + +In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with mud, and his +white waistcoat bloody, lay with his head upon Richard Bassett's knee. +His hair was wet with blood, some of which had trickled down his cheek +and dried. Even Richard's buckskins were slightly stained with it. + +At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which those who heard it +never forgot, and flung herself, Heaven knows how, into the cart; but +she got there, and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She took +no notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles away from him, +and the cart took her, embracing him tenderly, and kissing his hurt +head, and moaning over him, all through the village to Huntercombe +Hall. + +Four years ago they passed through the same village in a +carriage-and-four--bells pealing, rustics shouting--to take possession +of Huntercombe, and fill it with pledges of their great and happy love; +and as they flashed past the heir at law shrank hopeless into his +little cottage. Now, how changed the pageant!--a farmer's cart, a +splashed and bleeding and senseless form in it, supported by a +childless, despairing woman, one weeping attendant walking at the side, +and, among the gentlemen pacing slowly behind, the heir at law, with +his head lowered in that decent affectation of regret which all heirs +can put on to hide the indecent complacency within. + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AT the steps of Huntercombe Hall the servants streamed out, and +relieved the strangers of the sorrowful load. Sir Charles was carried +into the Hall, and Richard Bassett turned away, with one triumphant +flash of his eye, quickly suppressed, and walked with impenetrable +countenance and studied demeanor into Highmore House. + +Even here he did not throw off the mask. It peeled off by degrees. He +began by telling his wife, gravely enough, Sir Charles had met with a +severe fall, and he had attended to him and taken him home. + +"Ah, I am glad you did that, Richard," said Mrs. Bassett. "And is he +very badly hurt?" + +"I am afraid he will hardly get over it. He never spoke. He just +groaned when they took him down from the cart at Huntercombe." + +"Poor Lady Bassett!" + +"Ay, it will be a bad job for her. Jane!" + +"Yes, dear." + +"There is a providence in it. The fall would never have killed him; but +his head struck a tree upon the ground; and that tree was one of the +very elms he had just cut down to rob our boy." + +"Indeed?" + +"Yes; he was felling the very hedgerow timber, and this was one of the +old elms in a hedge. He must have done it out of spite, for elm-wood +fetches no price; it is good for nothing I know of, except coffins. +Well, he has cut down _his."_ + +"Poor man! Richard, death reconciles enemies. Surely you can forgive +him now." + +"I mean to try." + +Richard Bassett seemed now to have imbibed the spirit of quicksilver. +His occupations were not actually enlarged, yet, somehow or other, he +seemed full of business. He was all complacent bustle about nothing. He +left off inveighing against Sir Charles. And, indeed, if you are one of +those weak spirits to whom censure is intolerable, there is a cheap and +easy way to moderate the rancor of detraction--you have only to die. +Let me comfort genius in particular with this little recipe. + +Why, on one occasion, Bassett actually snubbed Wheeler for a mere +allusion. That worthy just happened to remark, "No more felling of +timber on Bassett Manor for a while." + +"For shame!" said Richard. "The man had his faults, but he had his good +qualities too: a high-spirited gentleman, beloved by his friends and +respected by all the county. His successor will find it hard to +reconcile the county to his loss." + +Wheeler stared, and then grinned satirically. + +This eulogy was never repeated, for Sir Charles proved ungrateful--he +omitted to die, after all. + +Attended by first-rate physicians, tenderly nursed and watched by Lady +Bassett and Mary Wells, he got better by degrees; and every stage of +his slow but hopeful progress was communicated to the servants and the +village, and to the ladies and gentlemen who rode up to the door every +day and left their cards of inquiry. + +The most attentive of all these was the new rector, a young clergyman, +who had obtained the living by exchange. He was a man highly gifted +both in body and mind--a swarthy Adonis, whose large dark eyes from the +very first turned with glowing admiration on the blonde beauties of +Lady Bassett. + +He came every day to inquire after her husband; and she sometimes left +the sufferer a minute or two to make her report to him in person. At +other times Mary Wells was sent to him. That artful girl soon +discovered what had escaped her mistress's observation. + +The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all sides. + +Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. "I want to see him about again," +said he. "Sir Charles is not the man to lie in bed if he was really +better. As for the doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment. +Let me see him on his legs, and then I'll believe he is better." + +Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Richard Bassett this moderate +request. One frosty but sunny afternoon, as he was inspecting his +coming domain from "The Heir's Tower," he saw the Hall door open, and a +muffled figure come slowly down the steps between two women: It was Sir +Charles, feeble but convalescent. He crept about on the sunny gravel +for about ten minutes, and then his nurses conveyed him tenderly in +again. + +This sight, which might have touched with pity a more generous nature, +startled Richard Bassett, and then moved his bile. "I was a fool," said +he; "nothing will ever kill that man. He will see me out; see us all +out. And that Mary Wells nurses him, and I dare say in love with him by +this time; the fools can't nurse a man without. Curse the whole pack of +ye!" he yelled, and turned away in rage and disgust. + +That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange fit of jealousy, +began to make hot protestations of love to her. He knew it was no use +reproaching her, so he went on the other tack. + +She received his vows with cool complacency, but would only stay a +minute, and would only talk of her master and mistress, toward whom her +heart was really warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, and +said: "'Tisn't as if he was one of your faint-hearted ones as meet +death half-way. Why, the second day, when he could scarce speak, he +sees me crying by the bed, and says he, almost in a whisper, 'What are +_you_ crying for?' 'Sir,' says I, ''tis for you--to see you lie like a +ghost.' 'Then you be wasting of salt-water,' says he. 'I wish I may, +sir,' says I. So then he raised himself up a little bit. 'Look at me,' +says he; 'I'm a Bassett. I am not the breed to die for a crack on the +skull, and leave you all to the mercy of them that would have no +mercy'--which he meant you, I suppose. So he ordered me to leave +crying, which I behooved to obey; for he will be master, mind ye, while +he have a finger to wag, poor dear gentleman, he will." + +And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to detain her, and +scudded back to the house, leaving Bassett to his reflections, which +were exceedingly bitter. + +Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily with Lady +Bassett. Their favorite stroll was up and down the lawn, close under +the boundary wall he had built to shut out "The Heir's Walk." + +The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall and the walk by its side. + +On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky Bassett, the heir; +but neither of the promenaders could see each other for the wall. + +Richard Bassett, on the contrary, from "The Heir's Tower," could see +both these little parties; and, as some men cannot keep away from what +causes their pain, he used to watch these loving walks, and see Sir +Charles get stronger and stronger, till at last, instead of leaning on +his beloved wife, he could march by her side, or even give her his arm. + +Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, except during +these blissful walks, when the sun shone on him, and Love and Beauty +soothed him, Sir Charles was not the man he had been. The shake he had +received appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He became so +irritable that several of his servants left him; and to his wife he +repined; and his childless condition, which had been hitherto only a +deep disappointment, became in his eyes a calamity that outweighed his +many blessings. He had now narrowly escaped dying without an heir, and +this seemed to sink into his mind, and, co-operating with the +concussion his brain had received, brought him into a morbid state. He +brooded on it, and spoke of it, and got back to it from every other +topic, in a way that distressed Lady Bassett unspeakably. She consoled +him bravely; but often, when she was alone, her gentle courage gave +way, and she cried bitterly to herself. + +Her distress had one effect she little expected; it completed what her +invariable kindness had begun, and actually won the heart of a servant. +Those who really know that tribe will agree with me that this was a +marvelous conquest. Yet so it was; Mary Wells conceived for her a real +affection, and showed it by unremitting attention, and a soft and +tender voice, that soothed Lady Bassett, and drew many a silent but +grateful glance from her dove-like eyes. + +Mary listened, and heard enough to blame Sir Charles for his +peevishness, and she began to throw out little expressions of +dissatisfaction at him; but these were so promptly discouraged by the +faithful wife that she drew in again and avoided that line. But one +day, coming softly as a cat, she heard Sir Charles and Lady Bassett +talking over their calamity. Sir Charles was saying that it was +Heaven's curse; that all the poor people in the village had children; +that Richard Bassett's weak, puny little wife had brought him an heir, +and was about to make him a parent again; he alone was marked out and +doomed to be the last of his race. "And yet," said he, "if I had +married any other woman, and you had married any other man, we should +have had children by the dozen, I suppose." + +Upon the whole, though he said nothing palpably unjust, he had the tone +of a man blaming his wife as the real cause of their joint calamity, +under which she suffered a deeper, nobler, and more silent anguish than +himself. This was hard to bear; and when Sir Charles went away, Mary +Wells ran in, with an angry expression on the tip of her tongue. + +She found Lady Bassett in a pitiable condition, lying rather than +leaning on the table, with her hair loose about her, sobbing as if her +heart would break. + +All that was good in Mary Wells tugged at her heart-strings. She flung +herself on her knees beside her, and seizing her mistress's hand, and +drawing it to her bosom, fell to crying and sobbing along with her. + +This canine devotion took Lady Bassett by surprise. She turned her +tearful eyes upon her sympathizing servant, and said, "Oh, Mary!" and +her soft hand pressed the girl's harder palm gratefully. + +Mary spoke first. "Oh, my lady," she sobbed, "it breaks my heart to see +you so. And what a shame to blame you for what is no fault of yourn. If +I was your husband the cradles would soon be full in this house; but +these fine gentlemen, they be old before their time with smoking of +tobacco; and then to come and lay the blame on we!" + +"Mary, I value you very much--more than I ever did a servant in my +life; but if you speak against your master we shall part." + +"La, my lady, I wouldn't for the world. Sir Charles is a perfect +gentleman. Why, he gave me a sovereign only the other day for nursing +of him; but he didn't ought to blame you for no fault of yourn, and to +make you cry. It tears me inside out to see you cry; you that is so +good to rich and poor. I wouldn't vex myself so for that: dear heart, +'twas always so; God sends meat to one house, and mouths to another." + +"I could be patient if poor Sir Charles was not so unhappy," sighed +Lady Bassett; "but if ever you are a wife, Mary, you will know how +wretched it makes us to see a beloved husband unhappy." + +"Then I'd make him happy," said Mary. + +"Ah, if I only could!" + +"Oh, I could tell you a way; for I have known it done; and now he is as +happy as a prince. You see, my lady, some men are like children; to +make them happy you must give them their own way; and so, if I was in +your place, I wouldn't make two bites of a cherry, for sometimes I +think he will fret himself out of the world for want on't." + +"Heaven forbid!" + +"It is my belief you would not be long behind him." + +"No, Mary. Why should I?" + +"Then--whisper, my lady!" + +And, although Lady Bassett drew slightly back at this freedom, Mary +Wells poured into her ear a proposal that made her stare and shiver. + +As for the girl's own face, it was as unmoved as if it had been bronze. + +Lady Bassett drew back, and eyed her askant with amazement and terror. + +"What is this you have dared to say?" + +"Why, it is done every day." + +"By people of your class, perhaps. No; I don't believe it. Mary, I have +been mistaken in you. I am afraid you are a vicious girl. Leave me, +please. I can't bear the sight of you." + +Mary went away, very red, and the tear in her eye. + +In the evening Lady Bassett gave Mary Wells a month's warning, and Mary +accepted it doggedly, and thought herself very cruelly used. + +After this mistress and maid did not exchange an unnecessary word for +many days. + +This notice to leave was very bitter to Mary Wells, for she was in the +very act of making a conquest. Young Drake, a very small farmer and +tenant of Sir Charles, had fallen in love with her, and she liked him +and had resolved he should marry her, with which view she was playing +the tender but coy maiden very prettily. But Drake, though young and +very much in love, was advised by his mother, and evidently resolved to +go the old-fashioned way--keep company a year, and know the girl before +offering the ring. + +Just before her month was out a more serious trouble threatened Mary +Wells. + +Her low, artful amour with Richard Bassett had led to its natural +results. By degrees she had gone further than she intended, and now the +fatal consequences looked her in the face. + +She found herself in an odious position; for her growing regard for +young Drake, though not a violent attachment, was enough to set her +more and more against Richard Bassett, and she was preparing an entire +separation from the latter when the fatal truth dawned on her. + +Then there was a temporary revulsion of feeling; she told her condition +to Bassett, and implored him, with many tears, to aid her to disappear +for a time and hide her misfortune, especially from her sister. + +Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer that made her blood +run cold. "Why do you come to me?" said he. "Why don't you go to the +right man--young Drake?" + +He then told her he had had her watched, and she must not think to make +a fool of him. She was as intimate with the young farmer as with him, +and was in his company every day. + +Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but said he was a +civil, respectful young man, who desired to make her his wife. "You +have lost me that," said she, bursting into tears; "and so, for God's +sake, show yourself a man for once, and see me through my trouble." + +The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, and said, +"When there are two it is always the gentleman you girls deceive. But +you can't make a fool of me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I'll +give you a wedding present; that is all I can do for any other man's +sweetheart. I have got my own family to provide for, and it is all I +can contrive to make both ends meet." + +He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she tried threats. He +laughed at them. Said he, "The time is gone by for that: if you wanted +to sue me for breach of promise, you should have done it at once; not +waited eighteen months and taken another sweetheart first. Come, come; +you played your little game. You made me come here week after week and +bleed a sovereign. A woman that loved a man would never have been so +hard on him as you were on me. I grinned and bore it; but when you ask +me to own another man's child, a man of your own sort that you are in +love with--you hate me--that is a little too much: no, Mrs. Drake; if +that is your game we will fight it out--before the public if you like." +And, having delivered this with a tone of harsh and loud defiance, he +left her--left her forever. She sat down upon the cold ground and +rocked herself. Despair was cold at her heart. + +She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. Then she got up +and went to her mistress's room and sat by the fire, for her limbs were +cold as well as her heart. + +She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, till Lady +Bassett came up to bed. She then went through her work like an +automaton, and every now and then a deep sigh came from her breast. + +Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her face was altered; a +sort of sullen misery was written on it. Lady Bassett was quick at +reading faces, and this look alarmed her. "Mary," said she, kindly, "is +there anything the matter?" + +No reply. + +"Are you unwell?" + +"No." + +"Are you in trouble?" + +"Ay!" with a burst of tears. + +Lady Bassett let her cry, thinking it would relieve her, and then spoke +to her again with the languid pensiveness of a woman who has also her +trouble. "You have been very attentive to Sir Charles, and a kind good +servant to me, Mary." + +"You are mocking me, my lady," said Mary, bitterly. "You wouldn't have +turned me off for a word if I had been a good servant." + +Lady Bassett colored high, and was silenced for a moment. At last she +said, "I feel it must seem harsh to you. You don't know how wicked it +was to tempt me. But it is not as if you had _done_ anything wrong. I +do not feel bound to mention mere words: I shall give you an excellent +character, Mary--indeed I _have._ I think I have got a good place for +you. I shall know to-morrow, and when it is settled we will look over +my wardrobe together." + +This proposal implied a boxful of presents, and would have made Mary's +dark eyes flash with delight at another time; but she was past all that +now. She interrupted Lady Bassett with this strange speech: "You are +very kind, my lady; will you lend me the key of your medicine chest?" + +Lady Bassett looked surprised, but said, "Certainly, Mary," and held +out the keys. + +But, before Mary could take them, she considered a moment, and asked +her what medicine she required. + +"Only a little laudanum." + +"No, Mary; not while you look like that, and refuse to tell me your +trouble. I am your mistress, and must exert my authority for your good. +Tell me at once what is the matter." + +"I'd bite my tongue off sooner." + +"You are wrong, Mary. I am sure I should be your best friend. I feel +much indebted to you for the attention and the affection you have shown +me, and I am grieved to see you so despondent. Make a friend of me. +There--think it over, and talk to me again to-morrow." + +Mary Wells took the true servant's view of Lady Bassett's kindness. She +looked at it as a trap; not, indeed, set with malice prepense, but +still a trap. She saw that Lady Bassett meant kindly at present; but, +for all that, she was sure that if she told the truth, her mistress +would turn against her, and say, "Oh! I had no idea your trouble arose +out of your own imprudence. I can do nothing for a vicious girl." + +She resolved therefore to say nothing, or else to tell some lie or +other quite wide of the mark. + +Deplorable as this young woman's situation was, the duplicity and +coarseness of mind which had brought her into it would have somewhat +blunted the mental agony such a situation must inflict; but it was +aggravated by a special terror; she knew that if she was found out she +would lose the only sure friend she had in the world. + +The fact is, Mary Wells had seen a great deal of life during the two +years she was out of the reader's sight. Rhoda had been very good to +her; had set her up in a lodging-house, at her earnest request. She +misconducted it, and failed: threw it up in disgust, and begged Rhoda +to put her in the public line. Rhoda complied. Mary made a mess of the +public-house. Then Rhoda showed her she was not fit to govern anything, +and drove her into service again; and in that condition, having no more +cares than a child, and plenty of work to do, and many a present from +Rhoda, she had been happy. + +But Rhoda, though she forgave blunders, incapacity for business, and +waste of money, had always told her plainly there was one thing she +never would forgive. + +Rhoda Marsh had become a good Christian in every respect but one. The +male rake reformed is rather tolerant; but the female rake reformed is, +as a rule, bitterly intolerant of female frailty; and Rhoda carried +this female characteristic to an extreme both in word and in deed. They +were only half-sisters, after all; and Mary knew that she would be cast +off forever if she deviated from virtue so far as to be found out. + +Besides the general warning, there had been a special one. When she +read Mary's first letter from Huntercombe Hall Rhoda was rather taken +aback at first; but, on reflection, she wrote to Mary, saying she could +stay there on two conditions: she must be discreet, and never mention +her sister Rhoda in the house, and she must not be tempted to renew her +acquaintance with Richard Bassett. "Mind," said she, "if ever you speak +to that villain I shall hear of it, and I shall never notice you +again." + +This was the galling present and the dark future which had made so +young and unsentimental a woman as Mary Wells think of suicide for a +moment or two; and it now deprived her of her rest, and next day kept +her thinking and brooding all the time her now leaden limbs were +carrying her through her menial duties. + +The afternoon was sunny, and Sir Charles and Lady Bassett took their +usual walk. + +Mary Wells went a little way with them, looking very miserable. Lady +Bassett observed, and said, kindly, "Mary, you can give me that shawl; +I will not keep you; go where you like till five o'clock." + +Mary never said so much as "Thank you." She put the shawl round her +mistress, and then went slowly back. She sat down on the stone steps, +and glared stupidly at the scene, and felt very miserable and leaden. +She seemed to be stuck in a sort of slough of despond, and could not +move in any direction to get out of it. + +While she sat in this somber reverie a gentleman walked up to the door, +and Mary Wells lifted her head and looked at him. Notwithstanding her +misery, her eyes rested on him with some admiration, for he was a model +of a man: six feet high, and built like an athlete. His face was oval, +and his skin dark but glowing; his hair, eyebrows, and long eyelashes +black as jet; his gray eyes large and tender. He was dressed in black, +with a white tie, and his clothes were well cut, and seemed +superlatively so, owing to the importance and symmetry of the figure +they covered. It was the new vicar, Mr. Angelo. + +He smiled on Mary graciously, and asked her how Sir Charles was. + +She said he was better. + +Then Mr. Angelo asked, more timidly, was Lady Bassett at home. + +"She is just gone out, sir." + +A look of deep disappointment crossed Mr. Angelo's face. It did not +escape Mary Wells. She looked at him full, and, lowering her voice a +little, said, "She is only in the grounds with Sir Charles. She will be +at home about five o'clock." + +Mr. Angelo hesitated, and then said he would call again at five. He +evidently preferred a duet to a trio. He then thanked Mary Wells with +more warmth than the occasion seemed to call for, and retired very +slowly: he had come very quickly. + +Mary Wells looked after him, and asked herself wildly if she could not +make some use of him and his manifest infatuation. + +But before her mind could fix on any idea, and, indeed, before the +young clergyman had taken twenty steps homeward, loud voices were heard +down the shrubbery. + +These were followed by an agonized scream. + +Mary Wells started up, and the young parson turned: they looked at each +other in amazement. + +Then came wild and piercing cries for help--in a woman's voice. + +The young clergyman cried out, _"Her_ voice! _her_ voice!" and dashed +into the shrubbery with a speed Mary Wells had never seen equaled. He +had won the 200-yard race at Oxford in his day. + +The agonized screams were repeated, and Mary Wells screamed in response +as she ran toward the place. + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +SIR CHARLES BASSETT was in high spirits this afternoon--indeed, a +little too high. + +"Bella, my love," said he, "now I'll tell you why I made you give me +your signature this morning. The money has all come in for the wood, +and this very day I sent Oldfield instructions to open an account for +you with a London banker." + +Lady Bassett looked at him with tears of tenderness in her eyes. +"Dearest," said she, "I have plenty of money; but the love to which I +owe this present, that is my treasure of treasures. Well, I accept it, +Charles; but don't ask me to spend it on myself; I should feel I was +robbing you." + +"It is nothing to me how you spend it; I have saved it from the enemy." + +Now that very enemy heard these words. He had looked from the "Heir's +Tower," and seen Sir Charles and Lady Bassett walking on their side the +wall, and the nurse carrying his heir on the other side. + +He had come down to look at his child in the sun; but he walked softly, +on the chance of overhearing Sir Charles and Lady Bassett say something +or other about his health; his design went no further than that, but +the fate of listeners is proverbial. + +Lady Bassett endeavored to divert her husband from the topic he seemed +to be approaching; it always excited him now, and did him harm. + +"Do not waste your thoughts on that enemy. He is powerless." + +"At this moment, perhaps; but his turn is sure to come again; and I +shall provide for it. I mean to live on half my income, and settle the +other half on you. I shall act on the clause in the entail, and sell +all the timber on the estate, except about the home park and my best +covers. It will take me some years to do this; I must not glut the +market, and spoil your profits; but every year I'll have a fall, till I +have denuded Mr. Bassett's inheritance, as he calls it, and swelled +your banker's account to a Plum. Bella, I have had a shake. Even now +that I am better such a pain goes through my head, like a bullet +crushing through it, whenever I get excited. I don't think I shall be a +long-lived man. But never mind, I'll live as long as I can; and, while +I do live, I'll work for you, and against that villain." + +"Charles," cried Lady Bassett, "I implore you to turn your thoughts +away from that man, and to give up these idle schemes. Were you to die +I should soon follow you; so pray do not shorten your life by these +angry passions, or you will shorten mine." + +This appeal acted powerfully on Sir Charles, and he left off suddenly +with flushed cheeks and tried to compose himself. + +But his words had now raised a corresponding fury on the other side of +that boundary wall. Richard Bassett, stung with rage, and, unlike his +high-bred cousin, accustomed to mix cunning even with his fury, gave +him a terrible blow--a very _coup de Jarnac._ He spoke _at_ him; he ran +forward to the nurse, and said very loud: "Let me see the little +darling. He does you credit. What fat cheeks!--what arms!--an infant +hercules! There, take him up the mound. Now lift him in your arms, and +let him see his inheritance. Higher, nurse, higher. Ay, crow away, +youngster; all that is yours--house and land and all. They may steal +the trees; they can't make away with the broad acres. Ha! I believe he +understands every word, nurse. See how he smiles and crows." + +At the sound of Bassett's voice Sir Charles started, and, at the first +taunt, he uttered something between a moan and a roar, as of a wounded +lion. + +"Come away," cried Lady Bassett. "He is doing it on purpose." + +But the stabs came too fast. Sir Charles shook her off, and looked +wildly round for a weapon to strike his insulter with. + +"Curse him and his brat!" he cried. "They shall neither of them--I'll +kill them both." + +He sprang fiercely at the wall, and, notwithstanding his weakly +condition, raised himself above it, and glared over with a face so full +of fury that Richard Bassett recoiled in dismay for a moment, and said, +"Run! run! He'll hurt the child!" + +But, the next moment, Sir Charles's hands lost their power; he uttered +a miserable moan, and fell gasping under the wall in an epileptic fit, +with all the terrible symptoms I have described in a previous portion +of this story. These were new to his poor wife, and, as she strove in +vain to control his fearful convulsions, her shrieks rent the air. +Indeed, her screams were so appalling that Bassett himself sprang at +the wall, and, by a great effort of strength, drew himself up, and +peered down, with white face, at the glaring eyes, clinched teeth, +purple face, and foaming lips of his enemy, and his body that bounded +convulsively on the ground with incredible violence. + +At that moment humanity prevailed over every thing, and he flung +himself over the wall, and in his haste got rather a heavy fall +himself. "It is a fit!" he cried, and running to the brook close by, +filled his hat with water, and was about to dash it over Sir Charles's +face. + +But Lady Bassett repelled him with horror. "Don't touch him, you +villain! You have killed him." And then she shrieked again. + +At this moment Mr. Angelo dashed up, and saw at a glance what it was, +for he had studied medicine a little. He said, "It is epilepsy. Leave +him to me." He managed, by his great strength, to keep the patient's +head down till the face got pale and the limbs still; then, telling +Lady Bassett not to alarm herself too much, he lifted Sir Charles, and +actually proceeded to carry him toward the house. Lady Bassett, +weeping, proffered her assistance, and so did Mary Wells; but this +athlete said, a little bruskly, "No, no; I have practiced this sort of +thing;" and, partly by his rare strength, partly by his familiarity +with all athletic feats, carried the insensible baronet to his own +house, as I have seen my accomplished friend Mr. Henry Neville carry a +tall actress on the mimic stage; only, the distance being much longer, +the perspiration rolled down Mr. Angelo's face with so sustained an +effort. + +He laid him gently on the floor of his study, while Lady Bassett sent +two grooms galloping for medical advice, and half a dozen servants +running for this and that stimulant, as one thing after another +occurred to her agitated mind. The very rustling of dresses and scurry +of feet overhead told all the house a great calamity had stricken it. + +Lady Bassett hung over the sufferer, sighing piteously, and was for +supporting his beloved head with her tender arm; but Mr. Angelo told +her it was better to keep the head low, that the blood might flow back +to the vessels of the brain. + +She cast a look of melting gratitude on her adviser, and composed +herself to apply stimulants under his direction and advice. + +Thus judiciously treated, Sir Charles began to recover consciousness in +part. He stared and muttered incoherently. Lady Bassett thanked God on +her knees, and then turned to Mr. Angelo with streaming eyes, and +stretched out both hands to him, with an indescribable eloquence of +gratitude. He gave her his hands timidly, and she pressed them both +with all her soul. Unconsciously she sent a rapturous thrill through +the young man's body: he blushed, and then turned pale, and felt for a +moment almost faint with rapture at that sweet and unexpected pressure +of her soft hands. + +But at this moment Sir Charles broke out in a sort of dry, +business-like voice, "I'll kill the viper and his brood!" Then he +stared at Mr. Angelo, and could not make him out at first. "Ah!" said +he, complacently, "this is my private tutor: a man of learning. I read +Homer with him; but I have forgotten it, all but one line-- + +"[greek] + +"That's a beautiful verse. Homer, old boy, I'll take your advice. I'll +kill the heir at law, and his brat as well, and when they are dead and +well seasoned I'll sell them to that old timber-merchant, the devil, to +make hell hotter. Order my horse, somebody, this minute!" + +During this tirade Lady Bassett's hands kept clutching, as if to stop +it, and her eyes filled with horror. + +Mr. Angelo came again to her rescue. He affected to take it all as a +matter of course, and told the servants they need not wait, Sir Charles +was coming to himself by degrees, and the danger was all over. + +But when the servants were gone he said to Lady Bassett, seriously, "I +would not let any servant be about Sir Charles, except this one. She is +evidently attached to you. Suppose we take him to his own room." + +He then made Mary Wells a signal, and they carried him upstairs. + +Sir Charles talked all the while with pitiable vehemence. Indeed, it +was a continuous babble, like a brook. + +Mary Wells was taking him into his own room, but Lady Bassett said, +"No: into my room. Oh, I will never let him out of my sight again." + +Then they carried him into Lady Bassett's bedroom, and laid him gently +down on a couch there. + +He looked round, observed the locality, and uttered a little sigh of +complacency. He left off talking for the present, and seemed to doze. + +The place which exerted this soothing influence on Sir Charles had a +contrary and strange effect on Mr. Angelo. + +It was of palatial size, and lighted by two side windows, and an oriel +window at the end. The delicate stone shafts and mullions were such as +are oftener seen in cathedrals than in mansions. The deep embrasure was +filled with beautiful flowers and luscious exotic leaf-plants from the +hot-houses. The floor was of polished oak, and some feet of this were +left bare on all sides of the great Aubusson carpet made expressly for +the room. By this means cleanliness penetrated into every corner: the +oak was not only cleaned, but polished like a mirror. The curtains were +French chintzes, of substance, and exquisite patterns, and very +voluminous. On the walls was a delicate rose-tinted satin paper, to +which French art, unrivaled in these matters, had given the appearance +of being stuffed, padded, and divided into a thousand cozy pillows, by +gold-headed nails. + +The wardrobes were of satin-wood. The bedsteads, one small, one large, +were plain white, and gold in moderation. + +All this, however, was but the frame to the delightful picture of a +wealthy young lady's nest. + +The things that startled and thrilled Mr. Angelo were those his +imagination could see the fair mistress using. The exquisite toilet +table; the Dresden mirror, with its delicate china frame muslined and +ribboned; the great ivory-handled brushes, the array of cut-glass +gold-mounted bottles, and all the artillery of beauty; the baths of +various shapes and sizes, in which she laved her fair body; the bath +sheets, and the profusion of linen, fine and coarse; the bed, with its +frilled sheets, its huge frilled pillows, and its eider-down quilt, +covered with bright purple silk. + +A delicate perfume came through the wardrobes, where strata of fine +linen from Hamburg and Belfast lay on scented herbs; and this, +permeating the room, seemed the very perfume of Beauty itself, and +intoxicated the brain. Imagination conjured pictures proper to the +scene: a goddess at her toilet; that glorious hair lying tumbled on the +pillow, and burning in contrasted color with the snowy sheets and with +the purple quilt. + +From this reverie he was awakened by a soft voice that said, "How can I +ever thank you enough, sir?" + +Mr. Angelo controlled himself, and said, "By sending for me whenever I +can be of the slightest use." Then, comprehending his danger, he added, +hastily, "And I fear I am none whatever now." Then he rose to go. + +Lady Bassett gave him both her hands again, and this time he kissed one +of them, all in a flurry; he could not resist the temptation. Then he +hurried away, with his whole soul in a tumult. Lady Bassett blushed, +and returned to her husband's side. + +Doctor Willis came, heard the case, looked rather grave and puzzled, +and wrote the inevitable prescription; for the established theory is +that man is cured by drugs alone. + +Sir Charles wandered a little while the doctor was there, and continued +to wander after he was gone. + +Then Mary Wells begged leave to sleep in the dressing-room. + +Lady Bassett thanked her, but said she thought it unnecessary; a good +night's rest, she hoped, would make a great change in the sufferer. + +Mary Wells thought otherwise, and quietly brought her little bed into +the dressing-room and laid it on the floor. + +Her judgment proved right; Sir Charles was no better the next day, nor +the day after. He brooded for hours at a time, and, when he talked, +there was an incoherence in his discourse; above all, he seemed +incapable of talking long on any subject without coming back to the +fatal one of his childlessness; and, when he did return to this, it was +sure to make him either deeply dejected or else violent against Richard +Bassett and his son; he swore at them, and said they were waiting for +his shoes. + +Lady Bassett's anxiety deepened; strange fears came over her. She put +subtle questions to the doctor; he returned obscure answers, and went +on prescribing medicines that had no effect. + +She looked wistfully into Mary Wells's face, and there she saw her own +thoughts reflected. + +"Mary," said she, one day, in a low voice, "what do they say in the +kitchen?" + +"Some say one thing, some another. What can they say? They never see +him, and never shall while I am here." + +This reminded Lady Bassett that Mary's time was up. The idea of a +stranger taking her place, and seeing Sir Charles in his present +condition, was horrible to her. "Oh, Mary," said she, piteously, +"surely you will not leave me just now?" + +"Do you wish me to stay, my lady?" + +"Can you ask it? How can I hope to find such devotion as yours, such +fidelity, and, above all, such secrecy? Ah, Mary, I am the most unhappy +lady in all England this day." + +Then she began to cry bitterly, and Mary Wells cried with her, and said +she would stay as long as she could; "but," said she, "I gave you good +advice, my lady, and so you will find." + +Lady Bassett made no answer whatever, and that disappointed Mary, for +she wanted a discussion. + + + +The days rolled on, and brought no change for the better. Sir Charles +continued to brood on his one misfortune. He refused to go +out-of-doors, even into the garden, giving as his reason that he was +not fit to be seen. "I don't mind a couple of women," said he, gravely, +"but no man shall see Charles Bassett in his present state. No. +Patience! Patience! I'll wait till Heaven takes pity on me. After all, +it would be a shame that such a race as mine should die out, and these +fine estates go to blackguards, and poachers, and anonymous-letter +writers." + +Lady Bassett used to coax him to walk in the corridor; but, even then, +he ordered Mary Wells to keep watch and let none of the servants come +that way. From words he let fall it seems he thought "Childlessness" +was written on his face, and that it had somehow degraded his features. + +Now a wealthy and popular baronet could not thus immure himself for any +length of time without exciting curiosity, and setting all manner of +rumors afloat. Visitors poured into Huntercombe to inquire. + +Lady Bassett excused herself to many, but some of her own sex she +thought it best to encounter. This subjected her to the insidious +attacks of curiosity admirably veiled with sympathy. The assailants +were marvelously subtle; but so was the devoted wife. She gave kiss for +kiss, and equivoque for equivoque. She seemed grateful for each visit; +but they got nothing out of her except that Sir Charles's nerves were +shaken by his fall, and that she was playing the tyrant for once, and +insisting on absolute quiet for her patient. + +One visitor she never refused--Mr. Angelo. He, from the first, had been +her true friend; had carried Sir Charles away from the enemy, and then +had dismissed the gaping servants. She saw that he had divined her +calamity and she knew from things he said to her that he would never +breathe a word out-of-doors. She confided in him. She told him Mr. +Bassett was the real cause of all this misery: he had insulted Sir +Charles. The nature of this insult she suppressed. "And oh, Mr. +Angelo," said she, "that man is my terror night and day! I don't know +what he can do, but I feel he will do something if he ever learns my +poor husband's condition." + +"I trust, Lady Bassett, you are convinced he will learn nothing from +me. Indeed, I will tell the ruffian anything you like. He has been +sounding me a little; called to inquire after his poor cousin--the +hypocrite!" + +"How good you are! Please tell him absolute repose is prescribed for a +time, but there is no doubt of Sir Charles's ultimate recovery." + +Mr. Angelo promised heartily. + +Mary Wells was not enough; a woman must have a man to lean on in +trouble, and Lady Bassett leaned on Mr. Angelo. She even obeyed him. +One day he told her that her own health would fail if she sat always in +the sick-room; she must walk an hour every day. + +_"Must_ I?" said she, sweetly. + +"Yes, even if it is only in your own garden." + +From that time she used to walk with him nearly every day. + +Richard Bassett saw this from his tower of observation; saw it, and +chuckled. "Aha!" said he. "Husband sick in bed. Wife walking in the +garden with a young man--a parson, too. He is dark, she is fair. +Something will come of this. Ha, ha!" + +Lady Bassett now talked of sending to London for advice; but Mary Wells +dissuaded her. "Physic can't cure him. There's only one can cure him, +and that is yourself, my lady." + +"Ah, would to Heaven I could!" + +"Try _my_ way, and you will see, my lady." + +"What, _that_ way! Oh, no, no!" + +"Well, then, if you won't, nobody else can." + +Such speeches as these, often repeated, on the one hand, and Sir +Charles's melancholy on the other, drove Lady Bassett almost wild with +distress and perplexity. + +Meanwhile her vague fears of Richard Bassett were being gradually +realized. + +Bassett employed Wheeler to sound Dr. Willis as to his patient's +condition. + +Dr. Willis, true to the honorable traditions of his profession, would +tell him nothing. But Dr. Willis had a wife. She pumped him: and +Wheeler pumped her. + +By this channel Wheeler got a somewhat exaggerated account of Sir +Charles's state. He carried it to Bassett, and the pair put their heads +together. + +The consultation lasted all night, and finally a comprehensive plan of +action was settled. Wheeler stipulated that the law should not be +broken in the smallest particular, but only stretched. + +Four days after this conference Mr. Bassett, Mr. Wheeler, and two +spruce gentlemen dressed in black, sat upon the "Heir's Tower," +watching Huntercombe Hall. + +They watched, and watched, until they saw Mr. Angelo make his usual +daily call. + +Then they watched, and watched, until Lady Bassett and the young +clergyman came out and strolled together into the shrubbery. + +Then the two gentlemen went down the stairs, and were hastily conducted +by Bassett to Huntercombe Hall. + +They rang the bell, and the taller said, in a business-like voice, "Dr. +Mosely, from Dr. Willis." + +Mary Wells was sent for, and Dr. Mosely said, "Dr. Willis is unable to +come to-day, and has sent me." + +Mary Wells conducted him to the patient. The other gentleman followed. + +"Who is this?" said Mary. "I can't let all the world in to see him." + +"It is Mr. Donkyn, the surgeon. Dr. Willis wished the patient to be +examined with the stethoscope. You can stay outside, Mr. Donkyn." + +This new doctor announced himself to Sir Charles, felt his pulse, and +entered at once into conversation with him. + +Sir Charles was in a talking mood, and very soon said one or two +inconsecutive things. Dr. Mosely looked at Mary Wells and said he would +write a prescription. + +As soon as he had written it he said, very loud, "Mr. Donkyn!" + +The door instantly opened, and that worthy appeared on the threshold. + +"Oblige me," said the doctor to his confrere, "by seeing this +prescription made up; and you can examine the patient yourself; but do +not fatigue him." + +With this he retired swiftly, and strolled down the corridor, to wait +for his companion. + +He had not to wait long. Mr. Donkyn adopted a free and easy style with +Sir Charles, and that gentleman marked his sense of the indignity by +turning him out of the room, and kicking him industriously half-way +down the passage. + +Messrs. Mosely and Donkyn retired to Highmore. + +Bassett was particularly pleased at the baronet having kicked Donkyn; +so was Wheeler; so was Dr. Mosely. Donkyn alone did not share the +general enthusiasm. + +When Sir Charles had disposed of Mr. Donkyn he turned on Mary Wells, +and rated her soundly for bringing strangers into his room to gratify +their curiosity; and when Lady Bassett came in he made his formal +complaint, concluding with a proposal that one of two persons should +leave Huntercombe, forever, that afternoon--Mary Wells or Sir Charles +Bassett. + +Mary replied, not to him, but to her mistress, "He came from Dr. +Willis, my lady. It was Dr. Mosely; and the other gent was a surgeon." + +"Two medical men, sent by Dr. Willis?" said Lady Bassett, knitting her +brow with wonder and a shade of doubt. + +"A couple of her own sweethearts, sent by herself," suggested Sir +Charles. + +Lady Bassett sat down and wrote a hasty letter to Dr. Willis. "Send a +groom with it, as fast as he can ride," said she; and she was much +discomposed and nervous and impatient till the answer came bade. + +Dr. Willis came in person. "I sent no one to take my place," said he. +"I esteem my patient too highly to let any stranger prescribe for him +or even see him--for a few days to come." + +Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and her eloquent face filled with an +undefinable terror. + +Mary Wells, being on her defense, put in her word. "I am sure he was a +doctor; for he wrote a prescription, and here 'tis." + +Dr. Willis examined the prescription, with no friendly eye. + +"Acetate of morphia! The very worst thing that could be given him. This +is the favorite of the specialists. This fatal drug has eaten away a +thousand brains for one it has ever benefited." + +"Ah!" said Lady Bassett. "'Specialists!' what are they?" + +"Medical men, who confine their practice to one disease." + +"Mad-doctors, he means," said the patient, very gravely. + +Lady Bassett turned very pale. "Then those were mad-doctors." + +"Never you mind, Bella," said Sir Charles. "I kicked the fellow +handsomely." + +"I am sorry to hear it, Sir Charles." + +"Why?" + +Dr. Willis looked at Lady Bassett, as much as to say, "I shall not give +_him_ my real reason;" and then said, "I think it very undesirable you +should be excited and provoked, until your health is thoroughly +restored." + +Dr. Willis wrote a prescription, and retired. + +Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and trembled all over. Her divining fit +was on her; she saw the hand of the enemy, and filled with vague fears. + +Mary Wells tried to, comfort her. "I'll take care no more strangers get +in here," said she. "And, my lady, if you are afraid, why not have the +keepers, and two or three more, to sleep in the house? for, as for them +footmen, they be too soft to fight." + +"I will," said Lady Bassett; "but I fear it will be no use. Our enemy +has so many resources unknown to me. How can a poor woman fight with a +shadow, that comes in a moment and strikes; and then is gone and leaves +his victim trembling?" + +Then she slipped into the dressing-room and became hysterical, out of +her husband's sight and hearing. + +Mary Wells nursed her, and, when she was better, whispered in her ear, +"Lose no more time, then. Cure him. You know the way." + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN the present condition of her mind these words produced a strange +effect on Lady Bassett. She quivered, and her eyes began to rove in +that peculiar way I have already noticed; and then she started up and +walked wildly to and fro; and then she kneeled down and prayed; and +then, alarmed, perplexed, exhausted, she went and leaned her head on +her patient's shoulder, and wept softly a long time. + +Some days passed, and no more strangers attempted to see Sir Charles. + +Lady Bassett was beginning to breathe again, when she was afflicted by +an unwelcome discovery. + +Mary Wells fainted away so suddenly that, but for Lady Bassett's quick +eye and ready hand, she would have fallen heavily. + +Lady Bassett laid her head down and loosened her stays, and discovered +her condition. She said nothing till the young woman was well, and then +she taxed her with it. + +Mary denied it plump; but, seeing her mistress's disgust at the +falsehood, she owned it with many tears. + +Being asked how she could so far forget herself, she told Lady Bassett +she had long been courted by a respectable young man; he had come to +the village, bound on a three years' voyage, to bid her good-by, and, +what with love and grief at parting, they had been betrayed into folly; +and now he was on the salt seas, little dreaming in what condition he +had left her: "and," said she, "before ever he can write to me, and I +to him, I shall be a ruined girl; that is why I wanted to put an end to +myself; I _will,_ too, unless I can find some way to hide it from the +world." + +Lady Bassett begged her to give up those desperate thoughts; she would +think what could be done for her. Lady Bassett could say no more to her +just then, for she was disgusted with her. + +But when she came to reflect that, after all, this was not a lady, and +that she appeared by her own account to be the victim of affection and +frailty rather than of vice, she made some excuses; and then the girl +had laid aside her trouble, her despair, and given her sorrowful mind +to nursing and comforting Sir Charles. This would have outweighed a +crime, and it made the wife's bowels yearn over the unfortunate girl. +"Mary," said she, "others must judge you; I am a wife, and can only see +your fidelity to my poor husband. I don't know what I shall do without +you, but I think it is my duty to send you to him if possible. You are +sure he really loves you?" + +"Me cross the seas after a young man?" said Mary Wells. "I'd as lieve +hang myself on the nighest tree and make an end. No, my lady, if you +are really my friend, let me stay here as long as I can--I will never +go downstairs to be seen--and then give me money enough to get my +trouble over unbeknown to my sister; she is all my fear. She is married +to a gentleman, and got plenty of money, and I shall never want while +she lives, and behave myself; but she would never forgive me if she +knew. She is a hard woman; she is not like you, my lady. I'd liever cut +my hand off than I'd trust her as I would you." + +Lady Bassett was not quite insensible to this compliment; but she felt +uneasy. + +"What, help you to deceive your sister?" + +"For her good. Why, if any one was to go and tell her about me now, +she'd hate them for telling her almost as much as she would hate me." + +Lady Bassett was sore perplexed. Unable to see quite clear in the +matter, she naturally reverted to her husband and his interest. That +dictated her course. She said, "Well, stay with us, Mary, as long as +you can; and then money shall not be wanting to hide your shame from +all the world; but I hope when the time comes you will alter your mind +and tell your sister. May I ask what her name is?" + +Mary, after a moment's hesitation, said her name was Marsh. + +"I know a Mrs. Marsh," said Lady Bassett; "but, of course, that is not +your sister. My Mrs. Marsh is rather fair." + +"So is my sister, for that matter." + +"And tall?" + +"Yes; but you never saw her. You'd never forget her it you had. She has +got eyes like a lion." + +"Ah! Does she ride?" + +"Oh, she is famous for that; and driving, and all." + +"Indeed! But no; I see no resemblance." + +"Oh, she is only my half-sister." + +"This is very strange." + +Lady Bassett put her hand to her brow, and thought. + +"Mary," said she, "all this is very mysterious. We are wading in deep +waters." + +Mary Wells had no idea what she meant. + +The day was not over yet. Just before dinner-time a fly from the +station drove to the door, and Mr. Oldfield got out. + +He was detained in the hall by sentinel Moss. + +Lady Bassett came down to him. At the very sight of him she trembled, +and said, "Richard Bassett?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Oldfield, "he is in the field again. He has been to the +Court of Chancery _ex parte,_ and obtained an injunction _ad interim_ +to stay waste. Not another tree must be cut down on the estate for the +present." + +"Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another tree shall be +felled on the grounds." + +"Of course not. But they will not stop there. If we do not move to +dissolve the injunction, I fear they will go on and ask the Court to +administer the estate, with a view to all interests concerned, +especially those of the heir at law and his son." + +"What, while my husband lives?" + +"If they can prove him dead in law." + +"I don't understand you, Mr. Oldfield." + +"They have got affidavits of two medical men that he is insane." + +Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand to her heart. + +"And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall of timber as a +further proof, and also as a reason why the Court should interfere to +protect the heir at law. Their case is well got up and very strong," +said Mr. Oldfield, regretfully. + +"Well, but you are a lawyer, and you have always beaten them hitherto." + +"I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. To be frank, Lady +Bassett, I don't see what I can do but watch the case, on the chance of +some error or illegality. It is very hard to fight a case when you +cannot put your client forward--and I suppose that would not be safe. +How unfortunate that you have no children!" + +"Children! How could they help us?" + +"What a question! How could Richard Bassett move the Court if he was +not the heir at law?" + +After a long conference Mr. Oldfield returned to town to see what he +could do in the way of procrastination, and Lady Bassett promised to +leave no stone unturned to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. +Oldfield was to write immediately if any fresh step was taken. + +When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady Bassett pondered every word he had +said, and, mild as she was, her rage began to rise against her +husband's relentless enemy. Her wits worked, her eyes roved in that +peculiar half-savage way I have described. She became intolerably +restless; and any one acquainted with her sex might see that some +strange conflict was going on in her troubled mind. + +Every now and then she would come and cling to her husband, and cry +over him; and that seemed to still the tumult of her soul a little. + +She never slept all that night, and next day, clinging in her helpless +agony to the nearest branch, she told Mary Wells what Bassett was +doing, and said, "What shall I do? He is not mad; but he is in so very +precarious a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they will +drive him mad indeed." + +"My lady," said Mary Wells, "I can't go from my word. 'Tis no use in +making two bites of a cherry. We must cure him: and if we don't, you'll +never rue it but once, and that will be all your life." + +"I should look on myself with horror afterward were I to deceive him +now." + +"No, my lady, you are too fond of him for that. Once you saw him happy +you'd be happy too, no matter how it came about. That Richard Bassett +will turn him out of this else. I am sure he will; he is a hard-hearted +villain." + +Lady Bassett's eyes flashed fire; then her eyes roved; then she sighed +deeply. + +Her powers of resistance were beginning to relax. As for Mary Wells, +she gave her no peace; she kept instilling her mind into her mistress's +with the pertinacity of a small but ever-dripping fount, and we know +both by science and poetry that small, incessant drops of water will +wear a hole in marble. + +"Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed saepe cadendo." + +And in the midst of all a letter came from Mr. Oldfield, to tell her +that Mr. Bassett threatened to take out a commission _de lunatico,_ and +she must prepare Sir Charles for an examination; for, if reported +insane, the Court would administer the estates; but the heir at law, +Mr. Bassett, would have the ear of the Court and the right of +application, and become virtually master of Huntercombe and Bassett; +and, perhaps, considering the spirit by which he was animated, would +contrive to occupy the very Hall itself. Lady Bassett was in the +dressing-room when she received this blow, and it drove her almost +frantic. She bemoaned her husband; she prayed God to take them both, +and let their enemy have his will. She wept and raved, and at the +height of her distress came from the other room a feeble cry, +"Childless! childless! childless!" + +Lady Bassett heard that, and in one moment, from violent she became +unnaturally and dangerously calm. She said firmly to Mary Wells, "This +is more than I can bear. You pretend you can save him--do it." + +Mary Wells now trembled in her turn; but she seized the opportunity. +"My lady, whatever I say you'll stand to?" + +"Whatever you say I'll stand to." + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +MARY WELLS, like other uneducated women, was not accustomed to think +long and earnestly on any one subject; to use an expression she once +applied with far less justice to her sister, her mind was like running +water. + +But gestation affects the brains of such women, and makes them think +more steadily, and sometimes very acutely; added to which, the peculiar +dangers and difficulties that beset this girl during that anxious +period stimulated her wits to the very utmost. Often she sat quite +still for hours at a time, brooding and brooding, and asking herself +how she could turn each new and unexpected event to her own benefit. +Now so much does mental force depend on that exercise of keen and long +attention, in which her sex is generally deficient, that this young +woman's powers were more than doubled since the day she first +discovered her condition, and began to work her brains night and day +for her defense. + +Gradually, as events I have related unfolded themselves, she caught a +glimpse of this idea, that if she could get her mistress to have a +secret, her mistress would help her to keep her own. Hence her +insidious whispers, and her constant praises of Mr. Angelo, who, she +saw, was infatuated with Lady Bassett. Yet the designing creature was +actually fond of her mistress: and so strangely compounded is a heart +of this low kind that the extraordinary step she now took was half +affectionate impulse, half egotistical design. + +She made a motion with her hand inviting Lady Bassett to listen, and +stepped into Sir Charles's room. + +"Childless! childless! childless!" + +"Hush, sir," said Mary Wells. "Don't say so. We shan't be many mouths +without one, please Heaven." + +Sir Charles shook his head sadly. + +"Don't you believe me?" + +"No." + +"What, did ever I tell you a lie?" + +"No: but you are mistaken. She would have told me." + +"Well, sir, my lady is young and shy, and I think she is afraid of +disappointing you after all; for you know, sir, there's many a slip +'twixt the cup and the lip. But 'tis as I tell you, sir." + +Sir Charles was much agitated, and said he would give her a hundred +guineas if that was true. "Where is my darling wife? Why do I hear this +through a servant?" + +Mary Wells cast a look at the door, and said, for Lady Bassett to hear, +"She is receiving company. Now, sir, I have told you good news; will +you do something to oblige me? You shouldn't speak of it direct to my +lady just yet; and if you want all to go well, you mustn't vex my lady +as you are doing now. What I mean, you mustn't be so downhearted-- +there's no reason for't--and you mustn't coop yourself up on this +floor: it sets the folks talking, and worries my lady. You should give +her every chance, being the way she is." + +Sir Charles said eagerly he would not vex her for the world. "I'll walk +in the garden," said he; "but as for going abroad, you know I am not in +a fit condition yet; my mind is clouded." + +"Not as I see." + +"Oh, not always. But sometimes a cloud seems to get into my head; and +if I was in public I might do or say something discreditable. I would +rather die." + +"La, sir!" said Mary Wells, in a broad, hearty way--"a cloud in your +head! You've had a bad fall, and a fit at top on't, and no wonder your +poor head do ache at times. You'll outgrow that--if you take the air +and give over fretting about the t'other thing. I tell you you'll hear +the music of a child's voice and little feet a-pattering up and down +this here corridor before so very long--if so be you take my advice, +and leave off fretting my lady with fretting of yourself. You should +consider: she is too fond of you to be well when you be ill." + +"I'll get well for her sake," said Sir Charles, firmly. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mary Wells opened it so +that the servant could see nothing. + +"Mr. Angelo has called." + +"My lady will be down directly." + +Mary Wells then slipped into the dressing-room, and found Lady Bassett +looking pale and wild. She had heard every word. + +"There, he is better already," said Mary Wells. "He shall walk in the +garden with you this afternoon." + +"What have you done? I can't look him in the face now. Suppose he +speaks to me?" + +"He will not. I'll manage that. You won't have to say a word. Only +listen to what I say, and don't make a liar of me. He is better +already." + +"How will this end?" cried Lady Bassett, helplessly. "What shall I do?" + +"You must go downstairs, and not come here for an hour at least, or +you'll spoil my work. Mr. Angelo is in the drawing-room." + +"I will go to him." + +Lady Bassett slipped out by the other door, and it was three hours, +instead of one, before she returned. + +For the first time in her life she was afraid to face her husband. + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +MEANTIME Mary Wells had a long conversation with her master; and after +that she retired into the adjoining room, and sat down to sew +baby-linen clandestinely. + +After a considerable tune Lady Bassett came in, and, sinking into a +chair, covered her face with her hands. She had her bonnet on. + +Mary Wells looked at her with black eyes that flashed triumph. + +After so surveying her for some time she said: "I have been at him +again, and there's a change for the better already. He is not the same +man. You go and see else." + +Lady Bassett now obeyed her servant: she rose and crept like a culprit +into Sir Charles's room. She found him clean shaved, dressed to +perfection, and looking more cheerful than she had seen him for many a +long day. "Ah, Bella," said he, "you have your bonnet on; let us have a +walk in the garden." + +Lady Bassett opened her eyes and consented eagerly, though she was very +tired. + +They walked together; and Sir Charles, being a man that never broke his +word, put no direct question to Lady Bassett, but spoke cheerfully of +the future, and told her she was his hope and his all; she would baffle +his enemy, and cheer his desolate hearth. + +She blushed, and looked confused and distressed; then he smiled, and +talked of indifferent matters, until a pain in his head stopped him; +then he became confused, and, putting his hand piteously to his head, +proposed to retire at once to his own room. + +Lady Bassett brought him in, and he reposed in silence on the sofa. + +The next day, and, indeed, many days afterward, presented similar +features. + +Mary Wells talked to her master of the bright days to come, of the joy +that would fill the house if all went well, and of the defeat in store +for Richard Bassett. She spoke of this man with strange virulence; said +"she would think no more of sticking a knife into him than of eating +her dinner;" and in saying this she showed the white of her eye in a +manner truly savage and vindictive. + +To hurt the same person is a surer bond than to love the same person; +and this sentiment of Mary Wells, coupled with her uniform kindness to +himself, gave her great influence with Sir Charles in his present +weakened condition. Moreover, the young woman had an oily, persuasive +tongue; and she who persuades us is stronger than he who convinces us. + +Thus influenced, Sir Charles walked every day in the garden with his +wife, and forbore all direct allusion to her condition, though his +conversation was redolent of it. + +He was still subject to sudden collapses of the intellect; but he +became conscious when they were coming on; and at the first warning he +would insist on burying himself in his room. + +After some days he consented to take short drives with Lady Bassett in +the open carriage. This made her very joyful. Sir Charles refused to +enter a single house, so high was his pride and so great his terror +lest he should expose himself; but it was a great point gained that she +could take him about the county, and show him in the character of a +mere invalid. + +Every thing now looked like a cure, slow, perhaps, but progressive; and +Lady Bassett had her joyful hours, yet not without a bitter alloy: her +divining mind asked itself what she should say and do when Sir Charles +should be quite recovered. This thought tormented her, and sometimes so +goaded her that she hated Mary Wells for her well-meant interference, +and, by a natural recoil from the familiarity circumstances had forced +on her, treated that young woman with great coldness and hauteur. + +The artful girl met this with extreme meekness and servility; the only +reply she ever hazarded was an adroit one; she would take this +opportunity to say, "How much better master do get ever since I took in +hand to cure him!" + +This oblique retort seldom failed. Lady Bassett would look at her +husband, and her face would clear; and she would generally end by +giving Mary a collar, or a scarf, or something. + +Thus did circumstances enable the lower nature to play with the higher. +Lady Bassett's struggles were like those of a bird in a silken net; +they led to nothing. When it came to the point she could neither do nor +say any thing to retard his cure. Any day the Court of Chancery, set in +motion by Richard Bassett, might issue a commission _de lunatico,_ and, +if Sir Charles was not cured by that time, Richard Bassett would +virtually administer the estate--so Mr. Oldfield had told her--and +that, she felt sure, would drive Sir Charles mad for life. + +So there was no help for it. She feared, she writhed, she hated +herself; but Sir Charles got better daily, and so she let herself drift +along. + +Mary Wells made it fatally easy to her. She was the agent. Lady Bassett +was silent and passive. + +After all she had a hope of extrication. Sir Charles once cured, she +would make him travel Europe with her. Money would relieve her of Mary +Wells, and distance cut all the other cords. + +And, indeed, a time came when she looked back on her present situation +with wonder at the distress it had caused her. "I was in shallow water +then," said she--"but now!" + + +CHAPTER XX. + +SIR CHARLES observed that he was never trusted alone. He remarked this, +and inquired, with a peculiar eye, why that was. + +Lady Bassett had the tact to put on an innocent look and smile, and +say: "That is true, dearest. I _have_ tied you to my apron-string +without mercy. But it serves you right for having fits and frightening +me. You get well, and my tyranny will cease at once." + +However, after this she often left him alone in the garden, to remove +from his mind the notion that he was under restraint from her. + +Mr. Bassett observed this proceeding from his tower. + +One day Mr. Angelo called, and Lady Bassett left Sir Charles in the +garden, to go and speak to him. + +She had not been gone many minutes when a boy ran to Sir Charles, and +said, "Oh, sir, please come to the gate; the lady has had a fall, and +hurt herself." + +Sir Charles, much alarmed, followed the boy, who took him to a side +gate opening on the high-road. Sir Charles rushed through this, and was +passing between two stout fellows that stood one on each side the gate, +when they seized him, and lifted him in a moment into a close carriage +that was waiting on the spot. He struggled, and cried loudly for +assistance; but they bundled him in and sprang in after him; a third +man closed the door, and got up by the side of the coachman. He drove +off, avoiding the village, soon got upon a broad road, and bowled along +at a great rate, the carriage being light, and drawn by two powerful +horses. + +So cleverly and rapidly was it done that, but for a woman's quick ear, +the deed might not have been discovered for hours; but Mary Wells heard +the cry for help through an open window, recognized Sir Charles's +voice, and ran screaming downstairs to Lady Bassett: she ran wildly +out, with Mr. Angelo, to look for Sir Charles. He was nowhere to be +found. Then she ordered every horse in the stables to be saddled; and +she ran with Mary to the place where the cry had been heard. + +For some time no intelligence whatever could be gleaned; but at last an +old man was found who said he had heard somebody cry out, and soon +after that a carriage had come tearing by him, and gone round the +corner: but this direction was of little value, on account of the many +roads, any one of which it might have taken. + +However, it left no doubt that Sir Charles had been taken away from the +place by force. + +Terror-stricken, and pale as death, Lady Bassett never lost her head +for a moment. Indeed, she showed unexpected fire; she sent off coachman +and grooms to scour the country and rouse the gentry to help her; she +gave them money, and told them not to come back till they had found Sir +Charles. + +Mr. Angelo said, eagerly, "I'll go to the nearest magistrate, and we +will arrest Richard Bassett on suspicion." + +"God bless you, dear friend!" sobbed Lady Bassett. "Oh, yes, it is his +doing--murderer!" + +Off went Mr. Angelo on his errand. + +He was hardly gone when a man was seen running and shouting across the +fields. Lady Bassett went to meet him, surrounded by her humble +sympathizers. It was young Drake: he came up panting, with a +double-barreled gun in his hand (for he was allowed to shoot rabbits on +his own little farm), and stammered out, "Oh, my lady--Sir +Charles--they have carried him off against his will!" + +"Who? Where? Did you see him?" + +"Ay, and heerd him and all. I was ferreting rabbits by the side of the +turnpike-road yonder, and a carriage came tearing along, and Sir +Charles put out his head and cried to me,' Drake, they are kidnapping +me. Shoot!' But they pulled him back out of sight." + +"Oh, my poor husband! And did you let them? Oh!" + +"Couldn't catch 'em, my lady: so I did as I was bid; got to my gun as +quick as ever I could, and gave the coachman both barrels hot." + +"What, kill him?" + +"Lord, no; 'twas sixty yards off; but made him holler and squeak a good +un. Put thirty or forty shots into his back, I know." + +"Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I'll never forget that shot." Then she +began to cry. + +"Doant ye, my lady, doant ye," said the honest fellow, and was within +an ace of blubbering for sympathy. "We ain't a lot o' babies, to see +our squire kidnaped. If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a couple +o' nags, we'll catch them yet, my lady." + +"That we will," cried Abel. "You take me where you fired that shot, and +we'll follow the fresh wheel-tracks. They can't beat us while they keep +to a road." + +The two men were soon mounted, and in pursuit, amid the cheers of the +now excited villagers. But still the perpetrators of the outrage had +more than an hour's start; and an hour was twelve miles. + +And now Lady Bassett, who had borne up so bravely, was seized with a +deadly faintness, and supported into the house. + +All this spread like wild-fire, and roused the villagers, and they must +have a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. Bassett was to blame; and that +passed from one to another, and so fermented that, in the evening, a +crowd collected round Highmore House and demanded Mr. Bassett. + +The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at home. + +Then the men demanded boisterously what he had done with Sir Charles, +and threatened to break the windows unless they were told; and, as +nobody in the house could tell them, the women egged on the men, and +they did break the windows; but they no sooner saw their own work than +they were a little alarmed at it, and retired, talking very loud to +support their waning courage and check their rising remorse at their +deed. + +They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor little Mrs. +Bassett half dead with fright. + +As for Lady Bassett, she spent a horrible night of terror, suspense, +and agony. She could not lie down, nor even sit still; she walked +incessantly, wringing her hands, and groaning for news. + +Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it was a situation +beyond the power of words to alleviate. + +Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o'clock in the morning; and +then, in the still night, horses' feet came clattering up to the door. + +Lady Bassett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted by a single lamp. +The great door was opened, and in clattered Moss and Drake, splashed +and weary and downcast. + +"Well?" cried Lady Bassett, clasping her hands. + +"My lady," said Moss, "we tracked the carriage into the next county, to +a place thirty miles from here--to a lodge--and there they stopped us. +The place is well guarded with men and great big dogs. We heerd 'em +bark, didn't us, Will?" + +"Ay," said Drake, dejectedly. + +"The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. Says he, 'This is a +place nobody comes in but by law, and nobody goes out but by law. If +the gentleman is here you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough.'" + +"A prison? No!" + +"A 'sylum, my lady." + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE lady put her hand to her heart, and was silent a long time. + +At last she said, doggedly but faintly, "You will go with me to that +place to-morrow, one of you." + +"I'll go, my lady," said Moss. "Will, here, had better not show his +face. They might take the law on him for that there shot." + +Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently cooled by discovering +that Sir Charles had been taken to a mad-house. + +Lady Bassett saw and sighed, and said she would take Moss to show her +the way. + +At eleven o'clock next morning a light carriage and pair came round to +the Hall gate, and a large basket, a portmanteau, and a bag were placed +on the roof under care of Moss; smaller packages were put inside; and +Lady Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black. + +They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The lodge-gate was open, +to Lady Bassett's surprise, and they drove through some pleasant +grounds to a large white house. + +The place at first sight had no distinctive character: great ingenuity +had been used to secure the inmates without seeming to incarcerate +them. There were no bars to the lower front windows, and the side +windows, with their defenses, were shrouded by shrubs. The sentinels +were out of sight, or employed on some occupation or other, but within +call. Some patients were playing at cricket; some ladies looking on; +others strolling on the gravel with a nurse, dressed very much like +themselves, who did not obtrude her functions unnecessarily. All was +apparent indifference, and Argus-eyed vigilance. So much for the +surface. + +Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked rooms had violent +and miserable inmates. + +The hall door opened as the carriage drew up; a respectable servant +came forward. + +Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, "I am come to see my +husband, sir." + +The man never moved a muscle, but said, "You must wait, if you please, +till I take your card in." + +He soon returned, and said, "Dr. Suaby is not here, but the gentleman +in charge will see you." + +Lady Bassett got out, and, beckoning Mary Wells, followed the servant +into a curious room, half library, half chemist's shop; they called it +"the laboratory." + +Here she found a tall man leaning on a dirty mantelpiece, who received +her stiffly. He had a pale mustache, very thin lips, and altogether a +severe manner. His head bald, rather prematurely, and whiskers +abundant. + +Lady Bassett looked him all over with one glance of her woman's eye, +and saw she had a hard and vain man to deal with. + +"Are you the gentleman to whom this house belongs?" she faltered. + +"No, madam; I am in charge during Dr. Suaby's absence." + +"That comes to the same thing. Sir, I am come to see my dear husband." + +"Have you an order?" + +"An order, sir? I am his wife." + +Mr. Salter shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, "I have no +authority to let any visitor see a patient without an order from the +person by whose authority he is placed here, or else an order from the +commissioners." + +"But that cannot apply to his wife; to her who is one with him, for +better for worse, in sickness or health." + +"It seems hard; but I have no discretion in the matter. The patient +only came yesterday--much excited. He is better to-day, and an +interview with you would excite him again." + +"Oh no! no! no! I can always soothe him. I will be so mild, so gentle. +You can be present, and hear every word I say. I will only kiss him, +and tell him who has done this, and to be brave, for his wife watches +over him; and, sir, I will beg him to be patient, and not blame you nor +any of the people here." + +"Very proper, very proper; but really this interview must be postponed +till you have an order, or Dr. Suaby returns. He can violate his own +rules if he likes; but I cannot, and, indeed, I dare not." + +"Dare not let a lady see her husband? Then you are not a man. Oh, can +this be England? It is too inhuman." + +Then she began to cry and wring her hands. + +"This is very painful," said Mr. Salter, and left the room. + +The respectable servant looked in soon after, and Lady Bassett told +him, between her sobs, that she had brought some clothes and things for +her husband. "Surely, sir," said she, "they will not refuse me that?" + +"Lord, no, ma'am," said the man. "You can give them to the keeper and +nurse in charge of him." + +Lady Bassett slipped a guinea into the man's hand directly. "Let me see +those people," said she. + +The man winked, and vanished: he soon reappeared, and said, loudly, +"Now, madam, if you will order the things into the hall." + +Lady Bassett came out and gave the order. + +A short, bull-necked man, and rather a pretty young woman with a +flaunting cap, bestirred themselves getting down the things; and Mr. +Salter came out and looked on. + +Lady Bassett called Mary Wells, and gave her a five-pound note to slip +into the man's hand. She telegraphed the girl, who instantly came near +her with an India rubber bath, and, affecting ignorance, asked her what +that was. + +Lady Bassett dropped three sovereigns into the bath, and said, "Ten +times, twenty times that, if you are kind to him. Tell him it is his +cousin's doing, but his wife watches over him." + +"All right," said the girl. "Come again when the doctor is here." + +All this passed, in swift whispers, a few yards from Mr. Salter, and he +now came forward and offered his arm to conduct Lady Bassett to the +carriage. + +But the wretched, heart-broken wife forgot her art of pleasing. She +shrank from him with a faint cry of aversion, and got into her carriage +unaided. Mary Wells followed her. + +Mr. Salter was unwilling to receive this rebuff. He followed, and said, +"The clothes shall be given, with any message you may think fit to +intrust to me." + +Lady Bassett turned away sharply from him, and said to Mary Wells, +"Tell him to drive home. Home! I have none now. Its light is torn from +me." + +The carriage drove away as she uttered these piteous words. + +She cried at intervals all the way home; and could hardly drag herself +upstairs to bed. + +Mr. Angelo called next day with bad news. Not a magistrate would move a +finger against Mr. Bassett: he had the law on his side. Sir Charles was +evidently insane; it was quite proper he should be put in security +before he did some mischief to himself or Lady Bassett. "They say, why +was he hidden for two months, if there was not something very wrong?" + +Lady Bassett ordered the carriage and paid several calls, to counteract +this fatal impression. + +She found, to her horror, she might as well try to move a rock. There +was plenty of kindness and pity; but the moment she began to assure +them her husband was not insane she was met with the dead silence of +polite incredulity. One or two old friends went further, and said, "My +dear, we are told he could not be taken away without two doctors' +certificates: now, consider, they must know better than you. Have +patience, and let them cure him." + +Lady Bassett withdrew her friendship on the spot from two ladies for +contradicting her on such a subject; she returned home almost wild +herself. + +In the village her carriage was stopped by a woman with her hair all +flying, who told her, in a lamentable voice, that Squire Bassett had +sent nine men to prison for taking Sir Charles's part and ill-treating +his captors. + +"My lawyer shall defend them at my expense," said Lady Bassett, with a +sigh. + +At last she got home, and went up to her own room, and there was Mary +Wells waiting to dress her. + +She tottered in, and sank into a chair. But, after this temporary +exhaustion, came a rising tempest of passion; her eyes roved, her +fingers worked, and her heart seemed to come out of her in words of +fire. "I have not a friend in all the county. That villain has only to +say 'Mad,' and all turn from me, as if an angel of truth had said +'Criminal.' We have no friend but one, and she is my servant. Now go +and envy wealth and titles. No wife in this parish is so poor as I; +powerless in the folds of a serpent. I can't see my husband without an +order from _him._ He is all power, I and mine all weakness." She raised +her clinched fists, she clutched her beautiful hair as if she would +tear it out by the roots. "I shall, go mad! I shall go mad! No!" said +she, all of a sudden. "That will not do. That is what he wants--and +then my darling _would_ be defenseless. I will not go mad." Then +suddenly grinding her white teeth: "I'll teach him to drive a lady to +despair. I'll fight." + +She descended, almost without a break, from the fury of a Pythoness to +a strange calm. Oh! then it is her sex are dangerous. + +"Don't look so pale," said she, and she actually smiled. "All is fair +against so foul a villain. You and I will defeat him. Dress me, Mary." + +Mary Wells, carried away by the unusual violence of a superior mind, +was quite bewildered. + +Lady Bassett smiled a strange smile, and said, "I'll show you how to +dress me;" and she did give her a lesson that astonished her. + +"And now," said Lady Bassett, "I shall dress you." And she took a loose +full dress out of her wardrobe, and made Mary Wells put it on; but +first she inserted some stuffing so adroitly that Mary seemed very +buxom, but what she wished to hide was hidden. Not so Lady Bassett +herself. Her figure looked much rounder than in the last dress she +wore. + +With all this she was late for dinner, and when she went down Mr. +Angelo had just finished telling Mr. Oldfield of the mishap to the +villagers. + +Lady Bassett came in animated and beautiful. + +Dinner was announced directly, and a commonplace conversation kept up +till the servants were got rid of. She then told Mr. Oldfield how she +had been refused admittance to Sir Charles at Bellevue House, a plain +proof, to her mind, they knew her husband was not insane; and begged +him to act with energy, and get Sir Charles out before his reason could +be permanently injured by the outrage and the horror of his situation. + +This led to a discussion, in which Mr. Angelo and Lady Bassett threw +out various suggestions, and Mr. Oldfield cooled their ardor with sound +objections. He was familiar with the Statutes de Lunatico, and said +they had been strictly observed both in the capture of Sir Charles and +in Mr. Salter's refusal to let the wife see the husband. In short, he +appeared either unable or unwilling to see anything except the strong +legal position of the adverse party. + +Mr. Oldfield was one of those prudent lawyers who search for the +adversary's strong points, that their clients may not be taken by +surprise; and that is very wise of them. But wise things require to be +done wisely: he sometimes carried this system so far as to discourage +his client too much. It is a fine thing to make your client think his +case the weaker of the two, and then win it for him easily; that +gratifies your own foible, professional vanity. But suppose, with your +discouraging him so, he flings up or compromises a winning case? +Suppose he takes the huff and goes to some other lawyer, who will warm +him with hopes instead of cooling him with a one-sided and hostile view +of his case? + +In the present discussion Mr. Oldfield's habit of beginning by admiring +his adversaries, together with his knowledge of law and little else, +and his secret conviction that Sir Charles was unsound of mind, +combined to paralyze him; and, not being a man of invention, he could +not see his way out of the wood at all; he could negative Mr. Angelo's +suggestions and give good reasons, but he could not, or did not, +suggest anything better to be done. + +Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a bitter smile, and +said, at last, with a sigh: "It seems, then, we are to sit quiet and do +nothing, while Mr. Bassett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow. +There! I'll fight my own battle; and do you try and find some way of +defending the poor souls that are in trouble because they did not sit +with their hands before them when their benefactor was outraged. +Command my purse, if money will save them from prison." + +Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelopard all down the +room on the side opposite to Mr. Oldfield. Angelo flew to open the +door, and in a whisper begged a word with her in private. She bowed +ascent, and passed on from the room. + +"What a fine creature!" said Mr. Oldfield. "How she walks!" + +Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what was to be done for +the poor men: "they will be up before the Bench to-morrow." + +Stung a little by Lady Bassett's remark, Mr. Oldfield answered, +promptly, "We must get some tradesmen to bail them with our money. It +will only be a few pounds apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shall +offer pecuniary compensation, and get up a defense; find somebody to +swear Sir Charles was sane--that sort of evidence is always to be got. +Counsel must do the rest. Simple natives--benefactor outraged--honest +impulse--regretted, the moment they understood the capture had been +legally made. Then throw dirt on the plaintiff. He is malicious, and +can be proved to have forsworn himself in Bassett _v._ Bassett." + +A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. "If you please, sir, +my lady is tired, and she wishes to say a word to you before she goes +upstairs." + +"Excuse me one minute," said Mr. Angelo, and followed Mary Wells. She +ushered him into a boudoir, where he found Lady Bassett seated in an +armchair, with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on the +carpet. + +She smiled faintly, and said, "Well, what do you wish to say to me?" + +"It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent." + +"I don't know. I snubbed him, poor man: but if the law is all against +us!" + +"How does he know that? He assumes it because he is prejudiced in favor +of the enemy. How does he _know_ they have done _everything_ the Act of +Parliament requires? And, if they have, Law is not invincible. When Law +defies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled on in all civilized +communities." + +"I never heard that before." + +"But you would if you had been at Oxford," said he, smiling. + +"Ah!" + +"What we want is a man of genius, of invention; a man who will see +every chance, take every chance, lawful or unlawful, and fight with all +manner of weapons." + +Lady Bassett's eye flashed a moment. "Ah!" said she; "but where can I +find such a man, with knowledge to guide his zeal?" + +"I think I know of a man who could at all events advise you, if you +would ask him." + +"Ah! Who?" + +"He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he has +talent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing is +certain--his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he is +in earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out of +confinement." + +"Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once." + +"He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send an +outline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can advise +you in the matter?" + +"You may; and thank you a thousand times!" + +"A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surely +throw some light." + +"One would think so, dear friend." + +"I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhaps +get an answer the day after to-morrow." + +"Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. A +writer, did you say? What does he write?" + +"Fiction." + +"What, novels?" + +"And dramas and all." + +Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. "I should never think of going to +Fiction for wisdom." + +"When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the +consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation +saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that +one wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction." + +"Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me. +One swallow does not make summer, for all that." + +"But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they are +works of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as a +novelist." + +"Oh, if he is a lawyer!" + +"Then I may write?" + +"Yes," said Lady Bassett, despondingly. + +"What is to become of Oldfield?" + +"Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him for +another hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come and +relieve me of Mr. Negative." + +She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr. +Oldfield found her very cold company. + +In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and very +handsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him. + +This done she bade the gentlemen goodnight, and went to her room. Here +she found Mary Wells full of curiosity to know whether the lawyer would +get Sir Charles out of the asylum. + +Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said nothing was to be +expected from such a Nullity. "Mary, he could not see. I gave him every +opportunity. I walked slowly down the room before him after dinner; and +I came into the drawing-room and moved about, and yet he could not +see." + +"Then you will have to tell him, that is all." + +"Never; no more shall you. I'll not trust my fate, and Sir Charles's, +to a man that has no eyes." + +For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor Oldfield; but to +Mr. Angelo she suppressed the real reason, and entered into that ardent +gentleman's grounds of discontent, though these alone would not have +entirely dissolved her respect for the family solicitor. + +Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress and ire. "Beaten! +beaten! and all through our adversaries having more talent. Mr. Bassett +did not appear at first. Wheeler excused him on the ground that his +wife was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett's servants were +called, and swore to the damage and to the men, all but one. He got +off. Then Oldfield made a dry speech; and a tradesman he had prepared +offered bail. The magistrates were consulting, when in burst Mr. +Bassett all in black, and made a speech fifty times stronger than +Oldfield's, and sobbed, and told them the rioters had frightened his +wife so she had been prematurely confined, and the child was dead. +Could they take bail for a riot, a dastardly attack by a mob of cowards +on a poor defenseless woman, the gentlest and most inoffensive creature +in England? Then he went on: 'They were told I was not in the house; +and then they found courage to fling stones, to terrify my wife and +kill my child. Poor soul!' he said, 'she lies between life and death +herself: and I come here in an agony of fear, but I come for justice; +the man of straw, who offers bail, is furnished with the money by those +who stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and teach these cowards +who war on defenseless ladies that there is humanity and justice and +law in the land.' Then Oldfield tried to answer him with his hems and +his haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and swept him away." + +"Poor woman!" + +"Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too little of her. But +you suffer, and so must she. It is the most terrible feud; one would +think this was Corsica instead of England, only the fighting is not +done with daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Oldfield. +We were all carried away at first; but, now I think of it, Bassett must +have been in the court, and held back to make the climax. Oh, yes! it +was another surprise and another success. They are all sent to jail. +Superior generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, we should have had +eight wives crying for pity, each with one child in her arms, and +another holding on to her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss that +Nullity." + +"Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles's lawyer; but I have promised +you to seek advice elsewhere, and so I will." + +The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the church-bell. + +The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned pale. + +"I must leave you," said Angelo, regretfully. "I have to bury Mr. +Bassett's little boy; he lived an hour." + +Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll. + +Strange, sad thoughts passed through her mind. "Is it saddest when it +tolls, or when it rings--that bell? He has killed his own child by +robbing me of my husband. We are in the hands of God, after all, let +Wheeler be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple.--And I am not +acting by that.--Where is my trust in God's justice?--Oh, thou of +little faith!--What shall I do? Love is stronger in me than +faith--stronger than anything in heaven or earth. God forgive me--God +help me--I will go back. + +"But oh, to stand still, and be good and simple, and to see my husband +trampled on by a cunning villain! + +"Why is there a future state, where everything is to be different? no +hate; no injustice; all love. Why is it not all of a piece? Why begin +wrong if it is to end all right? If I was omnipotent it should be right +from the first.--Oh, thou of little faith!--Ah, me! it is hard to see +fools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh, that I could shut my +eyes in faith and go to sleep, and drift on the right path; for I shall +never take it with my eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him." + +Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, and the tears +welled through them: they knew the way by this time. + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +NEXT morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing cheeks and sparkling +eyes. + +"I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend called on Mr. +Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he replies direct to me. May I read +you his letter?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"'DEAR SIR--The case you have sent me, of a gentleman confined on +certificates by order of an interested relative--as you presume, for +you have not seen the order--and on grounds you think insufficient, is +interesting, and some of it looks true; but there are gaps in the +statement, and I dare not advise in so nice a matter till these are +filled; but that, I suspect, can only be done by the lady herself. She +had better call on me in person; it may be worth her while. At home +every day, 10--3, this week. As for yourself, you need not address me +through Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterward stroke in +the University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth Harbor, and saved a +sailor. See "Ryde Journal," Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; cited in my Day-book +Aug. 10, and also in my Index hominum, in voce "Angelo"--_ha! ha! +here's a fellow for detail!_ + +"Yours very truly, + +"'ROLFE.'" + + + +"And did you?" + +"Did I what?" + +"Dive and save a sailor." + +"No; I nailed him just as he was sinking." + +"How good and brave you are!" + +Angelo blushed like a girl. "It makes me too happy to hear such words +from you. But I vote we don't talk about me. Will you call on Mr. +Rolfe?" + +"Is he married?" + +Angelo opened his eyes at the question. "I think not," said he. +"Indeed, I know he is not." + +"Could you get him down here?" + +Angelo shook his head. "If he knew you, perhaps; but can you expect him +to come here upon your business? These popular writers are spoiled by +the ladies. I doubt if he would walk across the street to advise a +stranger. Candidly, why should he?" + +"No; and it was ridiculous vanity to suppose he would. But I never +called on a gentleman in my life." + +"Take me with you. You can go up at nine, and be back to a late +dinner." + +"I shall never have the courage to go. Let me have his letter." + +He gave her the letter, and she took it away. + +At six o'clock she sent Mary Wells to Mr. Angelo, with a note to say +she had studied Mr. Rolfe's letter, and there was more in it than she +had thought; but his going off from her husband to boat-racing seemed +trivial, and she could not make up her mind to go to London to consult +a novelist on such a serious matter. + +At nine she sent to say she should go, but could not think of dragging +him there: she should take her maid. + +Before eleven, she half repented this resolution, but her maid kept her +to it; and at half past twelve next day they reached Mr. Rolfe's door; +an old-fashioned, mean-looking house, in one of the briskest +thoroughfares of the metropolis; a cabstand opposite to the door, and a +tide of omnibuses passing it. + +Lady Bassett viewed the place discontentedly, and said to herself, +"What a poky little place for a writer to live in; how noisy, how +unpoetical!" + +They knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid-servant. + +"Is Mr. Rolfe at home?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Please give me your card, and write the business." + +Lady Bassett took out her card and wrote a line or two on the back of +it. The maid glanced at it, and showed her into a room, while she took +the card to her master. + +The room was rather long, low, and nondescript; scarlet flock paper; +curtains and sofas green Utrecht velvet; woodwork and pillars white and +gold; two windows looking on the street; at the other end folding-doors +with scarcely any wood-work, all plate-glass, but partly hidden by +heavy curtains of the same color and material as the others. Accustomed +to large, lofty rooms, Lady Bassett felt herself in a long box here; +but the colors pleased her. She said to Mary Wells, "What a funny, cozy +little place for a gentleman to live in!" + +Mr. Rolfe was engaged with some one, and she was kept waiting; this was +quite new to her, and discouraged her, already intimidated by the +novelty of the situation. + +She tried to encourage herself by saying it was for her husband she did +this unusual thing; but she felt very miserable and inclined to cry. + +At last a bell rang; the maid came in and invited Lady Bassett to +follow her. She opened the glass folding-doors, and took them into a +small conservatory, walled like a grotto, with ferns sprouting out of +rocky fissures, and spars sparkling, water dripping. Then she opened +two more glass folding-doors, and ushered them into an empty room, the +like of which Lady Bassett had never seen; it was large in itself, and +multiplied tenfold by great mirrors from floor to ceiling, with no +frames but a narrow oak beading; opposite her, on entering, was a +bay-window all plate-glass, the central panes of which opened, like +doors, upon a pretty little garden that glowed with color, and was +backed by fine trees belonging to the nation; for this garden ran up to +the wall of Hyde Park. + +The numerous and large mirrors all down to the ground laid hold of the +garden and the flowers, and by double and treble reflection filled the +room with delightful nooks of verdure and color. + +To confuse the eye still more, a quantity of young India-rubber trees, +with glossy leaves, were placed before the large central mirror. The +carpet was a warm velvet-pile, the walls were distempered, a French +gray, not cold, but with a tint of mauve that gave a warm and cheering +bloom; this soothing color gave great effect to the one or two +masterpieces of painting that hung on the walls and to the gilt frames; +the furniture, oak and marqueterie highly polished; the curtains, +scarlet merino, through which the sun shone, and, being a London sun, +diffused a mild rosy tint favorable to female faces. Not a sound of +London could be heard. + +So far the room was romantic; but there was a prosaic corner to shock +those who fancy that fiction is the spontaneous overflow of a poetic +fountain fed by nature only; between the fireplace and the window, and +within a foot or two of the wall, stood a gigantic writing-table, with +the signs of hard labor on it, and of severe system. Three plated +buckets, each containing three pints, full of letters to be answered, +other letters to be pasted into a classified guard-book, loose notes to +be pasted into various books and classified (for this writer used to +sneer at the learned men who say, "I will look among my papers for it;" +he held that every written scrap ought either to be burned, or pasted +into a classified guard-book, where it could be found by consulting the +index); five things like bankers' bill-books, into whose several +compartments MS. notes and newspaper cuttings were thrown, as a +preliminary toward classification in books. + +Underneath the table was a formidable array of note-books, standing +upright, and labeled on their backs. There were about twenty large +folios of classified facts, ideas, and pictures--for the very wood-cuts +were all indexed and classified on the plan of a tradesman's ledger; +there was also the receipt-book of the year, treated on the same plan. +Receipts on a file would not do for this romantic creature. If a +tradesman brought a bill, he must be able to turn to that tradesman's +name in a book, and prove in a moment whether it had been paid or not. +Then there was a collection of solid quartos, and of smaller folio +guard-books called Indexes. There was "Index rerum et journalium"-- +"Index rerum et librorum,"--"Index rerum et hominum," and a lot more; +indeed, so many that, by way of climax, there was a fat folio ledger +entitled "Index ad Indices." + +By the side of the table were six or seven thick pasteboard cards, each +about the size of a large portfolio, and on these the author's notes +and extracts were collected from all his repertories into something +like a focus for a present purpose. He was writing a novel based on +facts; facts, incidents, living dialogue, pictures, reflections, +situations, were all on these cards to choose from, and arranged in +headed columns; and some portions of the work he was writing on this +basis of imagination and drudgery lay on the table in two forms, his +own writing, and his secretary's copy thereof, the latter corrected for +the press. This copy was half margin, and so provided for additions and +improvements; but for one addition there were ten excisions, great and +small. Lady Bassett had just time to take in the beauty and artistic +character of the place, and to realize the appalling drudgery that +stamped it a workshop, when the author, who had dashed into his garden +for a moment's recreation, came to the window, and furnished contrast +No. 3. For he looked neither like a poet nor a drudge, but a great fat +country farmer. He was rather tall, very portly, smallish head, +commonplace features mild brown eye not very bright, short beard, and +wore a suit of tweed all one color. Such looked the writer of romances +founded on fact. He rolled up to the window--for, if he looked like a +farmer, he walked like a sailor--and stepped into the room. + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +MR. ROLFE surveyed the two women with a mild, inoffensive, ox-like +gaze, and invited them to be seated with homely civility. + +He sat down at his desk, and turning to Lady Bassett, said, rather +dreamily, "One moment, please: let me look at the case and my notes." + +First his homely appearance, and now a certain languor about his +manner, discouraged Lady Bassett more than it need; for all artists +must pay for their excitements with occasional languor. Her hands +trembled, and she began to gulp and try not to cry. + +Mr. Rolfe observed directly, and said, rather kindly, "You are +agitated; and no wonder." + +He then opened a sort of china closet, poured a few drops of a +colorless liquid from a tiny bottle into a wine-glass, and filled the +glass with water from a filter. "Drink that, if you please." + +She looked at him with her eyes brimming. _"Must_ I?" + +"Yes; it will do you good for once in a way. It is only Ignatia." + +She drank it by degrees, and a tear along with it that fell into the +glass. + +Meantime Mr. Rolfe had returned to his notes and examined them. He then +addressed her, half stiffly, half kindly: + +"Lady Bassett, whatever may be your husband's condition--whether his +illness is mental or bodily, or a mixture of the two--his clandestine +examination by bought physicians, and his violent capture, the natural +effect of which must have been to excite him and retard his cure, were +wicked and barbarous acts, contrary to God's law and the common law of +England, and, indeed, to all human law except our shallow, incautious +Statutes de Lunatico: they were an insult to yourself, who ought at +least to have been consulted, for your rights are higher and purer than +Richard Bassett's; therefore, as a wife bereaved of your husband by +fraud and violence and the bare letter of a paltry statute whose spirit +has been violated, you are quite justified in coming to me or to any +public man you think can help your husband and you." Then, with a +certain _bonhomie,_ "So lay aside your nervousness; let us go into this +matter sensibly, like a big man and a little man, or like an old woman +and a young woman, whichever you prefer." + +Lady Bassett looked at him and smiled assent. She felt a great deal +more at her ease after this opening. + +"I dare not advise you yet. I must know more than Mr. Angelo has told +me. Will you answer my questions frankly?" + +"I will try, sir." + +"Whose idea was it confining Sir Charles Bassett to the house so much?" + +"His own. He felt himself unfit for society." + +"Did he describe his ailment to you then?" + +"Yes." + +"All the better; what did he say?" + +"He said that, at times, a cloud seemed to come into his head, and then +he lost all power of mind; and he could not bear to be seen in that +condition." + +"This was after the epileptic seizure?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Humph! Now will you tell me how Mr. Bassett, by mere words, could so +enrage Sir Charles as to give him a fit?" + +Lady Bassett hesitated. + +"What did he say to Sir Charles?" + +"He did not speak to him. His child and nurse were there, and he called +out loud, for Sir Charles to hear, and told the nurse to hold up his +child to look at his inheritance." + +"Malicious fool! But did this enrage Sir Charles so much as to give him +a fit?" + +"Yes." + +"He must be very sensitive." + +"On that subject." + +Mr. Rolfe was silent; and now, for the first time, appeared to think +intently. + +His study bore fruit, apparently; for he turned to Lady Bassett and +said, suddenly, "What is the strangest thing Sir Charles has said of +late--the very strangest?" + +Lady Bassett turned red, and then pale, and made no reply. + +Mr. Rolfe rose and walked up to Mary Wells. + +"What is the maddest thing your master has ever said?" + +Mary Wells, instead of replying, looked at her mistress. + +The writer instantly put his great body between them. "Come, none of +that," said he. "I don't want a falsehood--I want the truth." + +"La, sir, I don't know. My master he is not mad, I'm sure. The queerest +thing he ever said was--he did say at one time 'twas writ on his face +as he had no children." + +"Ah! And that is why he would not go abroad, perhaps." + +"That was one reason, sir, I do suppose." Mr. Rolfe put his hands +behind his back and walked thoughtfully and rather disconsolately back +to his seat. + +"Humph!" said he. Then, after a pause, "Well, well; I know the worst +now; that is one comfort. Lady Bassett, you really must be candid with +me. Consider: good advice is like a tight glove; it fits the +circumstances, and it does not fit other circumstances. No man advises +so badly on a false and partial statement as I do, for the very reason +that my advice is a close fit. Even now I can't understand Sir +Charles's despair of having children of his own." + +The writer then turned his looks on the two women, with an entire +absence of expression; the sense of his eyes was turned inward, though +the orbs were directed toward his visitors. + +With this lack-luster gaze, and in the tone of thoughtful soliloquy, he +said, "Has Sir Charles Bassett no eyes? and are there women so furtive, +so secret, or so bashful, they do not tell their husbands?" + +Lady Bassett turned with a scared look to Mary Wells, and that young +woman showed her usual readiness. She actually came to Mr. Rolfe and +half whispered to him, "If you please, sir, gentlemen are blind, and my +lady she is very bashful; but Sir Charles knows it now; he have known +it a good while; and it was a great comfort to him; he was getting +better, sir, when the villains took him--ever so much better." + +This solution silenced Mr. Rolfe, though it did not quite satisfy him. +He fastened on Mary Wells's last statement. "Now tell me: between the +day when those two doctors got into his apartment and the day of his +capture, how long?" + +"About a fortnight." + +"And in that particular fortnight was there a marked improvement?" + +"La, yes, sir; was there not, my lady?" + +"Indeed there was, sir. He was beginning to take walks with me in the +garden, and rides in an open carriage. He was getting better every day; +and oh, sir, that is what breaks my heart! I was curing my darling so +fast, and now they will do all they can to destroy him. Their not +letting his wife see him terrifies me." + +"I think I can explain that. Now tell me--what time do you expect--a +certain event?" + +Lady Bassett blushed and cast a hasty glance at the speaker; but he had +a piece of paper before him, and was preparing to take down her reply, +with the innocent face of a man who had asked a simple and necessary +question in the way of business. + +Then Lady Bassett looked at Mary Wells, and this look Mr. Rolfe +surprised, because he himself looked up to see why the lady hesitated. + +After an expressive glance between the mistress and maid, the lady +said, almost inaudibly, "More than three months;" and then she blushed +all over. + +Mr. Rolfe looked at the two women a moment, and seemed a little puzzled +at their telegraphing each other on such a subject; but he coolly noted +down Lady Bassett's reply on a card about the size of a foolscap sheet, +and then set himself to write on the same card the other facts he had +elicited. + +While he was doing this very slowly, with great care and pains, the +lady was eying him like a zoologist studying some new animal. The +simplicity and straightforwardness of his last question won by degrees +upon her judgment and reconciled her to her Inquisitor, the more so as +he was quiet but intense, and his whole soul in her case. She began to +respect his simple straightforwardness, his civility without a grain of +gallantry, and his caution in eliciting all the facts before he would +advise. + +After he had written down his synopsis, looking all the time as if his +life depended on its correctness, he leaned back, and his ordinary but +mobile countenance was transfigured into geniality. + +"Come," said he, "grandmamma has pestered you with questions enough; +now you retort--ask me anything--speak your mind: these things should +be attacked in every form, and sifted with every sieve." + +Lady Bassett hesitated a moment, but at last responded to this +invitation. + +"Sir, one thing that discourages me cruelly--my solicitor seems so +inferior to Mr. Bassett's. He can think of nothing but objections; and +so he does nothing, and lets us be trampled on: it is his being unable +to cope with Mr. Bassett's solicitor, Mr. Wheeler, that has led me in +my deep distress to trouble you, whom I had not the honor of knowing." + +"I understand your ladyship perfectly. Mr. Oldfield is a respectable +solicitor, and Wheeler is a sharp country practitioner; and--to use my +favorite Americanism--you feel like fighting with a blunt knife against +a sharp one." + +"That is my feeling, sir, and it drives me almost wild sometimes." + +"For your comfort, then, in my earlier litigations--I have had sixteen +lawsuits for myself and other oppressed people--I had often that very +impression; but the result always corrected it. Legal battles are like +other battles: first you have a skirmish or two, and then a great +battle in court. Now sharp attorneys are very apt to win the skirmish +and lose the battle. I see a general of this stamp in Mr. Wheeler, and +you need not fear him much. Of course an antagonist is never to be +despised; but I would rather have Wheeler against you than Oldfield. An +honest man like Oldfield blunders into wisdom, the Lord knows how. Your +Wheelers seldom get beyond cunning; and cunning does not see far enough +to cope with men of real sagacity and forethought in matters so +complicated as this. Oldfield, acting for Bassett, would have pushed +rapidly on to an examination by the court. You would have evaded it, +and put yourself in the wrong; and the inquiry, well urged, might have +been adverse to Sir Charles. Wheeler has taken a more cunning and +violent course--it strikes more terror, does more immediate harm; but +what does it lead to? Very little; and it disarms them of their +sharpest weapon, the immediate inquiry; for we could now delay and +greatly prejudice an inquiry on the very ground of the outrage and +unnecessary violence; and could demand time to get the patient as well +as he was before the outrage. And, indeed, the court is very jealous of +those who begin by going to a judge, and then alter their minds, and +try to dispose of the case themselves. And to make matters worse, here +they do it by straining an Act of Parliament opposed to equity." + +"I wish it may prove so, sir; but, meantime, Mr. Wheeler is active, Mr. +Oldfield is passive. He has not an idea. He is a mere negative." + +"Ah, that is because he is out of his groove. A smattering of law is +not enough here. It wants a smattering of human nature too." + +"Then, sir, would yon advise me to part with Mr. Oldfield?" + +"No. Why make an enemy? Besides, he is the vehicle of communication +with the other side. You must simply ignore him for a time." + +"But is there nothing I can do, sir? for it is this cruel inactivity +that kills me. Pray advise me--you know all now." + +Mr. Rolfe, thus challenged, begged for a moment's delay. + +"Let us be silent a minute," said he, "and think hard." + +And, to judge by his face, he did think with great intensity. + + + +"Lady Bassett," said he, very gravely, "I assume that every fact you +and Mr. Angelo have laid before me is true, and no vital part is kept +back. Well, then, your present course is--Delay. Not the weak delay of +those who procrastinate what cannot be avoided; but the wise delay of a +general who can bring up overpowering forces, only give him time. +Understand me, there is more than one game on the cards; but I prefer +the surest. We could begin fighting openly to-morrow; but that would be +risking too much for too little. The law's delay, the insolence of +office, the up-hill and thorny way, would hurt Sir Charles's mind at +present. The apathy, the cruelty, the trickery, the routine, the hot +and cold fits of hope and fear, would poison your blood, and perhaps +lose Sir Charles the heir he pines for. Besides, if we give battle +to-day we fight the heir at law; but in three or four months we may +have him on our side, and trustees appointed by you. By that time, too, +Sir Charles will have got over that abominable capture, and be better +than he was a week ago, constantly soothed and consoled--as he will +be--by the hope of offspring. When the right time comes, that moment we +strike, and with a sledge-hammer. No letters to the commissioners then, +no petitioning Chancery to send a jury into the asylum, stronghold of +prejudice. I will cut your husband in two. Don't be alarmed. I will +merely give him, with your help, an _alter ego,_ who shall effect his +liberation and ruin Richard Bassett--ruin him in damages and costs, and +drive him out of the country, perhaps. Meantime you are not to be a lay +figure, or a mere negative." + +"Oh, sir, I am so glad of that!" + +"Far from that: you will act defensively. Mr. Bassett has one chance; +you must be the person to extinguish it. Injudicious treatment in the +asylum might retard Sir Charles's cure; their leeches and their +sedatives, administered by sucking apothecaries, who reason it _a +priori,_ instead of watching the effect of these things on the patient, +might seriously injure your husband, for his disorder is connected with +a weak circulation of blood in the vessels of the brain. We must +therefore guard against that at once. To work, then. Who keeps this +famous asylum?" + +"Dr. Suaby." + +"Suaby? I know that name. He has been here, I think. I must look in my +Index rerum et hominum. Suaby? Not down. Try Asyla.--Asyla; 'Suaby: see +letter-book for the year--, p. 368.' An old letter-book. I must go +elsewhere for that." + +He went out, and after some time returned with a folio letter-book. + +"Here are two letters to me from Dr. Suaby, detailing his system and +inviting me to spend a week at his asylum. Come, come; Sir Charles is +with a man who does not fear inspection; for at this date I was bitter +against private asylums--rather indiscriminately so, I fear. Stay! he +visited me; I thought so. Here's a description of him: 'A pale, +thoughtful man, with a remarkably mild eye: is against restraint of +lunatics, and against all punishment of them--Quixotically so. Being +cross-examined, declares that if a patient gave him a black eye he +would not let a keeper handle him roughly, being irresponsible.' No +more would I, if I could give him a good licking myself. Please study +these two letters closely; you may get a clew how to deal with the +amiable writer in person." + +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Rolfe," said Lady Bassett, flushing all over. She +was so transported at having something to do. She quietly devoured the +letters, and after she had read them said a load of fears was now taken +off her mind. + +Mr. Rolfe shook his head. "You must not rely on Dr. Suaby too much. In +a prison or an asylum each functionary is important in exact proportion +to his nominal insignificance; and why? Because the greater his nominal +unimportance the more he comes in actual contact with the patient. The +theoretical scale runs thus: 1st. The presiding physician. 2d. The +medical subordinates. 3d. The keepers and nurses. The practical scale +runs thus: 1st. The keepers and nurses. 2d. The medical attendants. 3d. +The presiding physician." + +"I am glad to hear you say so, sir; for when I went to the asylum, and +the medical attendant, Mr. Salter, would not let me see my husband. I +gave his keeper and the nurse a little money to be kind to him in his +confinement." + +"You did! Yet you come here for advice? This is the way: a man +discourses and argues, and by profound reasoning--that is, by what he +thinks profound, and it isn't--arrives at the right thing; and lo! a +woman, with her understanding heart and her hard, good sense, goes and +does that wise thing humbly, without a word. SURSUM CORDA!--_Cheer up, +loving heart!"_ shouted he, like the roar of a lion in ecstasies; "you +have done a masterstroke--without Oldfield, or Rolfe, or any other +man." + +Lady Bassett clasped her hands with joy, and some electric fire seemed +to run through her veins; for she was all sensibilities, and this +sudden triumphant roaring out of strong words was quite new to her, and +carried her away. + +"Well," said this eccentric personage, cooling quite as suddenly as he +had fired, "the only improvement I can suggest is, be a little more +precise at your next visit. Promise his keepers twenty guineas apiece +the day Sir Charles is _cured;_ and promise them ten guineas apiece not +to administer one drop of medicine for the next two months; and, of +course, no leech nor blister. The cursed sedatives they believe in are +destruction to Sir Charles Bassett. His circulation must not be made +too slow one day, and too fast the next, which is the effect of a +sedative, but made regular by exercise and nourishing food. So, then, +you will square the keepers by their cupidity; the doctor is on the +right side _per se._ Shall we rely on these two, and ignore the medical +attendants? No; why throw a chance away? What is the key to these +medical attendants? Hum! Try flunkyism. I have great faith in British +flunkyism. Pay your next visit with four horses, two outriders, and +blazing liveries. Don't dress in perfect taste like _that;_ go in finer +clothes than you ever wore in the morning, or ought to wear, except at +a wedding; go not as a petitioner, but as a queen; and dazzle snobs; +the which being dazzled, then tickle their vanity: don't speak of Sir +Charles as an injured man, nor as a man unsound in mind, but a +gentleman who is rather ill; 'but _now,_ gentlemen, I feel your +remarkable skill will soon set him right.' Your husband runs that one +risk; make him safe: a few smiles and a little flattery will do it; and +if not, why, fight with all a woman's weapons. Don't be too nice: we +must all hold a candle to the devil once in our lives. A wife's love +sanctifies a woman's arts in fighting with a villain and disarming +donkeys." + +"Oh, I wish I was there now!" + +"You are excited, madam," said he, severely. "That is out of place--in +a deliberative assembly." + +"No, no; only I want to be there, doing all this for my dear husband." + +"You are very excited; and it is my fault. You must be hungry too: you +have come a journey. There will be a reaction, and then you will be +hysterical. Your temperament is of that kind." + +He rang a bell and ordered his maid-servant to bring some beef-wafers +and a pint of dry Champagne. + +Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be quiet; "for," said he, +"I have a smattering of medicine, as well as of law and of human +nature. Sir Charles must correspond with you. Probably he has already +written you six letters complaining of this monstrous act--a sane man +incarcerated. Well, that class of letter goes into a letter-box in the +hall of an asylum, but it never reaches its address. Please take a pen +and write a formula." He dictated as follows: + + + +"MY DEAR LOVE--The trifling illness I had when I came here is beginning +to give way to the skill and attention of the medical gentlemen here. +They are all most kind and attentive: the place, as it is conducted, is +a credit to the country." + + + +Lady Bassett's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not this rather +artful?" + +"And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage the writing of +letters, and then open them, and suppress whatever is disagreeable? May +every man who opens another man's letter find that letter a trap. Here +comes your medicine. You never drink champagne in the middle of the +day, of course?" + +"Oh, no." + +"Then it will be all the better medicine." + +He made both mistress and maid eat the thin slices of beef and drink a +glass of champagne. + +While they were thus fortifying themselves he wrote his address on some +stamped envelopes, and gave them to Lady Bassett, and told her she had +better write to him at once if anything occurred. "You must also write +to me if you really cannot get to see your husband. Then I will come +down myself, with the public press at my back. But I am sure that will +not be necessary in Dr. Suaby's asylum. He is a better Christian than I +am, confound him for it! You went too soon; your husband had been +agitated by the capture; Suaby was away; Salter had probably applied +what he imagined to be soothing remedies, leeches--a blister--morphia. +Result, the patient was so much worse than he was before they touched +him that Salter was ashamed to let you see him. Having really excited +him, instead of soothing him, Sawbones Salter had to pretend that _you_ +would excite him. As if creation contained any mineral, drug simple, +leech, Spanish fly, gadfly, or showerbath, so soothing as a loving wife +is to a man in affliction. New reading of an old song: + +'If the heart of a man is oppressed with cares, It makes him much worse +when a woman appears.' + +"Go to-morrow; you will see him. He will be worse than he was; but not +much. Somebody will have told him that his wife put him in there--" + +"Oh! oh!" + +"And he won't have believed it. His father was a Bassett; his mother a +Le Compton; his great-great-great-grandmother was a Rolfe: there is no +cur's blood in him. After the first shock he will have found the spirit +and dignity of a gentleman to sustain adversity: these men of fashion +are like that; they are better steel than women--and writers." + +When he had said this he indicated by his manner that he thought he had +exhausted the subject, and himself. + +Lady Bassett rose and said, "Then, sir, I will take my leave; and oh! I +am sorry I have not your eloquent pen or your eloquent tongue to thank +you. You have interested yourself in a stranger--you have brought the +power of a great mind to bear on our distress. I came here a widow--now +I feel a wife again. Your good words have warmed my very heart. I can +only pray God to bless you, sir." + +"Pray say no more, madam," said Mr. Rolfe, hastily. "A gentleman cannot +be always writing lies; an hour or two given to truth and justice is a +wholesome diversion. At all events, don't thank me till my advice has +proved worth it." + +He rang the bell; the servant came, and showed the way to the street +door. Mr. Rolfe followed them to the passage only, whence he bowed +ceremoniously once more to Lady Bassett as she went out. + +As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clatter. It was her +counselor tearing back to his interrupted novel like a distracted +bullock. + +"Well, I don't think much of _he,"_ said Mary Wells. + +Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey home very absorbed +and taciturn, impregnated with ideas she could not have invented, but +was more able to execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in +digesting Rolfe's every word, and fixing his map in her mind, and +filling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung her: she gave +her companion very short answers, especially when she disparaged Mr. +Rolfe. + +"You couldn't get in a word edgeways," said Mary Wells. + +"I went to hear wisdom, and not to chatter." + +"He doesn't think small beer of hisself, anyhow." + +"How _can_ he, and see other men?" + +"Well. I don't think much of him, for my part." + +"I dare say the Queen of Sheba's lady's-maid thought Solomon a silly +thing." + +"I don't know; that was afore my time" (rather pertly). + +"Of course it was, or you couldn't imitate her." + +On reaching home she ordered a light dinner upstairs, and sent +directions to the coachman and grooms. + +At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started for +the asylum--coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders. + +Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two fresh +horses having been sent on at night. + +They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was left +ostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many a +pale face peeping from the upper windows. + +The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectful +air. + +"Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?" + +"No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day." + +Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowed +to see Mr. Coyne. + +"Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once," was the reply. + +Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people to +open the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr. +Coyne appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, +vulgar face, liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly at +sight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses. + +"Mr. Coyne, I believe," said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile. + +"At your service, madam." + +"May I have a word in private with you, sir?" + +"Certainly, madam." + +"We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?" + +"I am afraid," said the little man, apologetically, "I must ask you to +send them to the inn. It is close by." + +"By all means." (To one of the outriders:) "You will wait here for +orders." + +Mary Wells had been already instructed to wait in the hall and look out +sharp for Sir Charles's keeper and nurse, and tell them her ladyship +wanted to speak to them privately, and it would be money in their way. + +Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to congratulate +herself. "Mr. Bassett," said she, "is no friend of mine, but he has +done me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, when he might have sent +him to some place where he might have been made worse instead of +better. Here, I conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure his +trifling disorder, will you not?" + +"I have good hopes, your ladyship; he is better to-day." + +"Now I dare say you could tell me to a month when he will be cured." + +"Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much." + +"Three months?" + +"That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship may rely on it we +will do our best." + +"Will you? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, by-the-by, Dr. Willis +wanted me to take a message to you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you by +reputation." + +"Indeed! Really I was not aware that my humble--" + +"Then you are better known than you in your modesty supposed. Let me +see: what was the message? Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles he +wished you to know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and he +wished me to tell you that morphia and other sedatives have some very +bad effects on him. I told Dr. Willis you would probably find that and +every thing else out without a hint from him or any one else." + +"Yes; but I will make a note of it, for all that." + +"That is very kind of you. It will flatter the doctor, the more so as +he has so high an opinion of you. But now, Mr. Coyne, I suppose if I am +very good, and promise to soothe him, and not excite him, I may see my +husband to-day?" + +"Certainly, madam. You have an order from the person who--" + +"I forgot to bring it with me. I relied on your humanity." + +"That is unfortunate. I am afraid I must not--" He hesitated, looked +very uncomfortable, and said he would consult Mr. Appleton; then, +suddenly puckering his face into obsequiousness, "Would your ladyship +like to inspect some of our arrangements for the comfort of our +patients?" + +Lady Bassett would have declined the proposal but for the singular play +of countenance; she was herself all eye and mind, so she said, gravely, +"I shall be very happy, sir." + +Mr. Coyne then led the way, and showed her a large sitting-room, where +some ladies were seated at different occupations and amusements: they +kept more apart from each other than ladies do in general; but this was +the only sign a far more experienced observer than Lady Bassett could +have discovered, the nurses having sprung from authoritative into +unobtrusive positions at the sound of Mr. Coyne's footstep outside. + +"What!" said Lady Bassett; "are all these ladies--" She hesitated. + +"Every one," said Mr. Coyne; "and some incurably." + +"Oh, please let us retire; I have no right to gratify my curiosity. +Poor things! they don't seem unhappy." + +"Unhappy!" said Mr. Coyne. "We don't allow unhappiness here; our doctor +is too fond of them; he is always contriving something to please them." + +At this moment Lady Bassett looked up and saw a woman watching her over +the rail of a corridor on the first floor. She recognized the face +directly. The woman made her a rapid signal, and then disappeared into +one of the rooms. + +"Would there be any objection to our going upstairs, Mr. Coyne?" said +Lady Bassett, with a calm voice and a heart thumping violently. + +"Oh, none whatever. I'll conduct you; but then, I am afraid I must +leave you for a time." + +He showed her upstairs, blew a whistle, handed her over to an +attendant, and bowed and smiled himself away grotesquely. + +Jones was the very keeper she had feed last visit. She flushed with joy +at sight of bull-necked, burly Jones. "Oh, Mr. Jones!" said she, +putting her hands together with a look that might have melted a +hangman. + +Jones winked, and watched Mr. Coyne out of sight. + +"I have seen your ladyship's maid," said Jones, confidentially. "It is +all right. Mr. Coyne have got the blinkers on. Only pass me your word +not to excite him." + +"Oh no, sir, I will soothe him." And she trembled all over. + +"Sally!" cried Jones. + +The nurse came out of a room and held the door ajar; she whispered, "I +have prepared him, madam; he is all right." + +Lady Bassett, by a great effort, kept her feet from rushing, her heart +from crying out with joy, and she entered the room. Sally closed the +door like a shot, with a delicacy one would hardly have given her +credit for, to judge from appearances. + +Sir Charles stood in the middle of the room, beaming to receive her, +but restraining himself. They met: he held her to his heart; she wept +for joy and grief upon his neck. Neither spoke for a long time. + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THEY were seated hand in hand, comparing notes and comforting each +other. Then Lady Bassett met with a great surprise: forgetting, or +rather not realizing, Sir Charles's sex and character, she began with a +heavy heart to play the consoler; but after he had embraced her many +times with tender rapture, and thanked God for the sight of her, lo and +behold, this doughty baronet claimed his rights of manhood, and, in +spite of his capture, his incarceration, and his malady, set to work to +console her, instead of lying down to be consoled. + +"My darling Bella," said he, "don't you make a mountain of a mole-hill. +The moment you told me I should be a father I began to get better, and +to laugh at Richard Bassett's malice. Of course I was terribly knocked +over at first by being captured like a felon and clapped under lock and +key; but I am getting over that. My head gets muddled once a day, that +is all. They gave me some poison the first day that made me drunk +twelve hours after; but they have not repeated it." + +"Oh!" cried Lady Bassett, "then don't let me lose a moment. How could I +forget?" She opened the door, and called in Mr. Jones and the nurse. + +"Mr. Jones," said she, "the first day my husband came here Mr. Salter +gave him a sedative, or something, and it made him much worse." + +"It always do make 'em worse," said Jones, bluntly. + +"Then why did he give it?" + +"Out o' book, ma'am. His sort don't see how the medicines work; but we +do, as are always about the patient." + +"Mr. Jones," said Lady Bassett, "if Mr. Salter, or anybody, prescribes, +it is you who _administer_ the medicine." + +Jones assented with a wink. Winking was his foible, as puckering of the +face was Coyne's. + +"Should you be offended if I were to offer you and the nurse ten +guineas a month to pretend you had given him Mr. Salter's medicines, +and not do it?" + +"Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir Charles," said +Jones. "But I didn't ought to take so much money for that. To be sure, +I suppose, the lady won't miss it." + +"Don't be a donkey, Jones," said Sir Charles, cutting short his +hypocrisy. "Take whatever you can get; only earn it." + +"Oh, what I takes I earns." + +"Of course," said Sir Charles. "So that is settled. You have got to +physic those flower-pots instead of me, that is all." + +This view of things tickled Jones so that he roared with laughter. +However, he recollected himself all of a sudden, and stopped with +ludicrous abruptness. + +He said to Lady Bassett, with homely kindness, "You go home +comfortable, my lady; you have taken the stick by the right end." He +then had the good sense to retire from the room. + +Then Lady Bassett told Sir Charles of her visit to London, and her +calling on Mr. Rolfe. + +He looked blank at his wife calling on a bachelor; but her description +of the man, his age, and his simplicity, reconciled him to that; and +when she told him the plan and order of campaign Mr. Rolfe had given +her he approved it very earnestly. + +He fastened in particular on something that Mr. Rolfe had dwelt lightly +on. "Dear as the sight of you is to me, sweet as the sound of your +loved voice is to my ears and my heart, I would rather not see you +again until our hopes are realized than jeopardize _that."_ + +Lady Bassett sighed, for this seemed rather morbid. Sir Charles went +on: "So think of your own health first, and avoid agitations. I am +tormented with fear lest that monster should take advantage of my +absence to molest you. If he does, leave Huntercombe. Yes, leave it; go +to London; go, even for my sake; my health and happiness depend on you; +they cannot be much affected by anything that happens here. 'Stone +walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.'" + +Lady Bassett promised, but said she could not keep away from him, and +he must often write to her. She gave him Rolfe's formula, and told him +all letters would pass that praised the asylum. + +Sir Charles made a wry face. + +Lady Bassett's wrist went round his neck in a moment. "Oh, Charles, +dear, for my sake--hold a little, little candle to the devil. Mr. Rolfe +says we must. Oblige me in this--I am not so noble as you--and then +I'll be very good and obedient in what your heart is set upon." + +At last Sir Charles consented. + +Then they made haste, and told each other everything that had happened, +and it was late in the afternoon before they parted. + +Lady Bassett controlled her tears at parting as well as she could. + +Mr. Coyne had slyly hid himself, but emerged when she came down to the +carriage, and she shook him warmly by the hand, and he bowed at the +door incessantly, with his face all in a pucker, till the cavalcade +dashed away. + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +LADY BASSETT timed her next visit so that she found Dr. Suaby at home. + +He received her kindly, and showed himself a master; told her Sir +Charles's was a mixed case, in which the fall, the fit, and a morbid +desire for offspring had all played their parts. + +He hoped a speedy cure, but said he counted on her assistance. There +was no doubt what he meant. + +Oh, for one thing, he said to her, rather slyly, "Coyne tells me you +have been good enough to supply us with a hint as to his treatment; +sedatives are opposed to his idiosyncrasy." + +Lady Bassett blushed high, and said something about Dr. Willis. + +"Oh, you are quite right, you and Dr. Willis; only you are not so very +conversant with that idiosyncrasy. Why have you let him smoke twenty +cigars every day of his life? the brain is accessible by other roads +than the stomach. Well, we have got him down to four cigars, and in a +month we will have him down to two. The effect of that, and exercise, +and simple food, and the absence of powerful excitements--you will see. +Do your part," said he, gayly, "we will do ours. He is the most +interesting patient in the house, and born to adorn society, though by +a concurrence of unhappy circumstances he is separated from it for a +while." + +She spent the whole afternoon with Sir Charles, and they dined together +at the doctor's private table, with one or two patients who were +touched, but showed no signs of it on that occasion; for the good +doctor really acted like oil on the troubled waters. + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett corresponded, and so kept their hearts up; +but after Rolfe's hint the correspondence was rather guarded. If these +letters were read in the asylum the curious would learn that Sir +Charles was far more anxious about his wife's condition than his own; +but that these two patient persons were only waiting a certain near +event to attack Richard Bassett with accumulated fury--that smoldering +fire did not smoke by letter, but burned deep in both their sore and +heavy, but enduring, Anglo-Saxon hearts. + +Lady Bassett wrote to Mr. Rolfe, thanking him again for his advice, and +telling him how it worked. + +She had a very short reply from that gentleman. + +But about six weeks after her visit he surprised her a little by +writing of his own accord, and asking her for a formal introduction to +Sir Charles Bassett, and begging her to back a request that Sir Charles +would devote a leisure hour or two to correspondence with him. "Not," +said he, "on his private affairs, but on a matter of general interest. +I want a few of his experiences and observations in that place. I have +the less scruple in asking it, that whatever takes him out of himself +will be salutary." + +Lady Bassett sent him the required introduction in such terms that Sir +Charles at once consented to oblige his wife by obliging Mr. Rolfe. + + + +"My DEAR SIR--In compliance with your wish, and Lady Bassett's, I send +you a few desultory remarks on what I see here. + +"1st. The lines, + +'Great wits to madness nearly are allied, And thin partitions do their +bonds divide,' + +are, in my opinion, exaggerated and untrue. Taking the people here as a +guide, the insane in general appear to be people with very little +brains, and enormous egotism. + +"My next observation is, that the women have far less imagination than +the men; they cannot even realize their own favorite delusions. For +instance, here are two young ladies, the Virgin Mary and the Queen of +England. How do they play their parts? They sit aloof from all the +rest, with their noses in the air. But gauge their imaginations; go +down on one knee, or both, and address them as a saint and a queen; +they cannot say a word in accordance; yet they are cunning enough to +see they cannot reply in character, so they will not utter a syllable +to their adorers. They are like the shop-boys who go to a masquerade as +Burleigh or Walsingham, and when you ask them who is Queen Bess's +favorite just now, blush, and look offended, and pass sulkily on. + +"The same class of male lunatics can speak in character; and this +observation has made me doubt whether philosophers are not mistaken in +saying that women generally have more imagination than men. I suspect +they have infinitely less; and I believe their great love of novels, +which has been set down to imagination, arises mainly from their want +of it. You writers of novels supply that defect for them by a pictorial +style, by an infinity of minute details, and petty aids to realizing, +all which an imaginative reader can do for himself on reading a bare +narrative of sterling facts and incidents. + +"I find a monotony in madness. So many have inspirations, see phantoms, +are the victims of vast conspiracies (principalities and powers +combined against a fly); their food is poisoned, their wine is drugged, +etc., etc. + +"These, I think, are all forms of that morbid egotism which is at the +bottom of insanity. So is their antipathy for each other. They keep +apart, because a madman is all self, and his talk is all self; thus +egotisms, clash, and an antipathy arises; yet it is not, I think, pure +antipathy, though so regarded, but a mere form of their boundless +egotism. + +"If, in visiting an asylum, you see two or three different patients +buttonhole a fourth and pour their grievances into a listening ear, you +may safely suspect No. 4 of--sanity. + +"On the whole, I think the doctor himself, and one of his attendants, +and Jones, a keeper, have more solid eccentricity and variety about +them than most of the patients." + + + +Extract from Letter 2, written about a fortnight later: + + + +"Some insane persons have a way of couching their nonsense in language +that sounds rational, and has a false air of logical connection. Their +periods seem stolen from sensible books, and forcibly fitted to +incongruous bosh. By this means the ear is confused, and a slow hearer +might fancy he was listening to sense. + +"I have secured you one example of this. You must know that, in the +evening, I sometimes collect a few together, and try to get them to +tell their stories. Little comes of it in general but interruptions. +But, one night, a melancholy Bagman responded in good set terms, and +all in a moment; one would have thought I had put a torch to a barrel +of powder, he went off so quickly, in this style: + +"'You ask my story: it is briefly told. Initiated in commerce from my +earliest years, and traveled in the cotton trade. As representative of +a large house in Manchester, I visited the United States. + +"'Unfortunately for me, that country was then the chosen abode of +spirits; the very air was thick and humming with supernaturalia. Ere +long spirit-voices whispered in my ear, and suggested pious aspirations +at first. That was a blind, no doubt; for very soon they went on to +insinuate things profane and indelicate, and urged me to deliver them +in mixed companies; I forbore with difficulty, restrained by the early +lessons of a pious mother, and a disinclination to be kicked +downstairs, or flung out o' window. + +"'I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in its +beautiful Doric, "Old oss, I reckon you'd better change the air." I +grasped his hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for England. + +"'On ocean's peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But under this +deceitful calm fresh dangers brooded. Two doctors had stolen into the +ship, unseen by human eye, and bided their time. Unable to act at sea, +owing to the combined effect of wind and current, they concealed +themselves on deck under a black tarpaulin--that is to say, it had been +black, but wind and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown--and there, +adopting for the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, the +caterpillar, and other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. But the +moment the vessel touched the quay, profiting by the commotion, they +emerged, and signed certificates with chalk on my portmanteau; then +vanished in the crowd. The Custom-house read the certificates, and +seized my luggage as contraband. I was too old a traveler to leave my +luggage; so then they seized me, and sent us both down here. (With +sudden and short-lived fury) that old hell-hound at the Lodge asked +them where I was booked for. "For the whole journey," said a sepulchral +voice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, the silent grave.' + +"Notwithstanding this stern decree, Suaby expects to turn him out cured +in a few months. + +"Miss Wieland, a very pretty girl, put her arm in mine, and drew me +mysteriously apart. 'So you are collecting the villainies,' said she, +sotto voce. 'It will take you all your time. I'll tell you mine. +There's a hideous old man wants me to marry him; and I won't. And he +has put me in here, and keeps me prisoner till I will. They are all on +his side, especially that sanctified old guy, Suaby. They drug my wine, +they stupefy me, they give me things to make me naughty and tipsy; but +it is no use; I never will marry that old goat--that for his money and +him--I'll die first.' + +"Of course my blood boiled; but I asked my nurse, Sally, and she +assured me there was not one atom of truth in any part of the story. +'The young lady was put in here by her mother; none too soon, neither.' +I asked her what she meant. 'Why, she came here with her throat cut, +and strapping on it. She is a suicidal.'" + + + +This correspondence led eventually to some unexpected results; but I am +obliged to interrupt it for a time, while I deal with a distinct series +of events which began about five weeks after Lady Bassett's visit to +Mr. Rolfe, and will carry the reader forward beyond the date we have +now arrived at. + +It was the little dining-room at Highmore; a low room, of modest size, +plainly furnished. An enormous fire-place, paved with plain tiles, on +which were placed iron dogs; only wood and roots were burned in this +room. + +Mrs. Bassett had just been packed off to bed by marital authority; +Bassett and Wheeler sat smoking pipes and sipping whisky-and-water. +Bassett professed to like the smell of peat smoke in whisky; what he +really liked was the price. + +After a few silent whiffs, said Bassett, "I didn't think they would +take it so quietly; did you?" + +"Well, I really did not. But, after all, what can they do? They are +evidently afraid to go to the Court of Chancery, and ask for a jury in +the asylum; and what else can they do?" + +"Humph! They might arrange an escape, and hide him for fourteen days; +then we could not recapture him without fresh certificates; could we?" + +"Certainly not." + +"And the doors would be too well guarded; not a crack for two doctors +to creep in at." + +"You go too fast. _You_ know the law from me, and you are a daring man +that would try this sort of thing; but a timid woman, advised by a +respectable muff like Oldfield! They will never dream of such a thing." + +"Oldfield is not her head-man. She has got another adviser, and he is +the very man to do something plucky." + +"I don't know who you mean." + +"Why, her lover, to be sure." + +"Her lover? Lady Bassett's lover!" + +"Ay, the young parson." + +Wheeler smiled satirically. "You certainly are a good hater. Nothing is +too bad for those you don't like. If that Lady Bassett is not a true +wife, where will you find one?" + +"She is the most deceitful jade in England." + +"Oh! oh!" + +"Ah! you may sneer. So you have forgotten how she outwitted us. Did the +devil himself ever do a cunninger thing than that? tempting a fellow +into a correspondence that seemed a piece of folly on her part, yet it +was a deep diabolical trick to get at my handwriting. Did _you_ see her +game? No more than I did. You chuckled at her writing letters to the +plaintiff _pendente lite._ We were both children, setting our wits +against a woman's. I tell you I dread her, especially when I see her so +unnaturally quiet, after what we have done. When you hook a large +salmon, and he makes a great commotion, but all of a sudden lies like a +stone, be on your guard; he means mischief." + +"Well," said Wheeler, "this is all very true, but you have strayed from +the point. What makes you think she has an improper attachment?" + +"Is it so very unnatural? He is the handsomest fellow about, she is the +loveliest woman; he is dark, she is fair; and they are thrown together +by circumstances. Another thing: I have always understood that women +admire the qualities they don't possess themselves--strength, for +instance. Now this parson is a Hercules. He took Sir Charles up like a +boy and carried him in his arms all the way from where he had the fit. +Lady Bassett walked beside them. Rely on it, a woman does not see one +man carry another so without making a comparison in favor of the +strong, and against the weak. But what am I talking about? They walk +like lovers, those two." + +"What, hand in hand? he! he!" + +"No, side by side; but yet like lovers for all that." + +"You must have a good eye." + +"I have a good opera-glass." + +Mr. Wheeler smoked in silence. + +"Well, but," said he, after a pause, "if this is so, all the better for +you. Don't you see that the lover will never really help her to get the +husband out of confinement? It is not in the nature of things. He may +struggle with his own conscience a bit, being a clergyman, but he won't +go too far; he won't break the law to get Sir Charles home, and so end +these charming duets with his lady-love." + +"By Jove, you are right!" cried Bassett, convinced in his turn. "I say, +old fellow, two heads are better than one. I think we have got the +clew, between us. Yes, by Heaven! it is so; for the carriage used to be +out twice a week, but now she only goes about once in ten days. +By-and-by it will be once a fortnight, then once a month, and the +black-eyed rector will preach patience and resignation. Oh, it was a +master-stroke, clapping him in that asylum! All we have got to do now +is to let well alone. When she is over head and ears in love with +Angelo she will come to easy terms with us, and so I'll move across the +way. I shall never be happy till I live at Huntercombe, and administer +the estate." + +The maid-servant brought him a note, and said it was from her mistress. +Bassett took it rather contemptuously, and said, "The little woman is +always in a fidget now when you come here. She is all for peace." He +read the letter. It ran thus: + + + +"DEAREST RICHARD--I implore you to do nothing more to hurt Sir Charles. +It is wicked, and it is useless. God has had pity on Lady Bassett, and +have you pity on her too. Jane has just heard it from one of the +Huntercombe servants." + + + +"What does she mean with her 'its'? Why, surely--Read it, you." + +They looked at each other in doubt and amazement for some time. Then +Richard Bassett rushed upstairs, and had a few hasty words with his +wife. + +She told him her news in plainer English, and renewed her mild +entreaties. He turned his back on her in the middle. He went out into +the nursery, and looked at his child. The little fellow, a beautiful +boy, slept the placid sleep of infancy. He leaned over him and kissed +him, and went down to the dining-room. + +His feet came tramp, tramp, very slowly, and when he opened the door +Mr. Wheeler was startled at the change in his appearance. He was pale, +and his countenance fallen. + +"Why, what is the matter?" said Wheeler. + +"She has done us. Ah, I was wiser than you; I feared her. It is the +same thing over again; a woman against two children. This shows how +strong she is; you can't realize what she has done--even when you see +it. An heir was wanted to those estates. Love cried out for one. Hate +cried out for one. Nature denied one. She has cut the Gordian knot; cut +it as boldly as the lowest woman in Huntercombe would have cut it under +such a terrible temptation." + +"Oh, for shame!" + +"Think, and use your eyes." + +"My eyes have seen the lady; I think I see her now, kneeling like an +angel over her husband, and pitying him for having knocked me down. I +say her only lover is her husband." + +"Oh, that was a long time ago. Time brings changes. You can't take the +eyes out of my head." + +"Suppose it should be only a false alarm?" + +"Is that likely? However, I will learn. Whether it is or not, that +child shall never rob mine of Bassett and Huntercombe. Anything is fair +against such a woman." + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THAT very night, after Wheeler had gone home, Richard Bassett wrote a +cajoling letter to Mary Wells, asking her to meet him at the old place. + +When the girl got this letter she felt a little faint for a moment; but +she knew the man, his treachery, and his hard egotism and selfishness +so well, that she tossed the letter aside, and resolved to take no +notice. Her trust was all in her mistress, for whom, indeed, she had +more real affection than for any living creature; as for Richard +Bassett she absolutely detested him. + +As the day wore on she took another view of matters: her deceiver was +the enemy of her mistress; she might do her a service by going to this +rendezvous, might learn something from him, and use it against him. + +So she went to the rendezvous with a heart full of bitter hate. + +Bassett, with all his assurance, could not begin his interrogatory all +in a moment. He made a sort of apology, said he felt he had been +unkind, and he had never been happy since he had deserted her. + +She cut that short. "I have found a better than you," said she. "I am +going to London very soon--to be married." + +"I am glad to hear it." + +"No doubt you are." + +"I mean for your sake." + +"For my sake? You think as little of me as I do of you. Come, now, what +do you want of me--without a lie, if you _can?"_ + +"I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and hear your prospects." + +"Well, I have told you." And she pretended to be going. + +"Don't be in such a hurry. Tell us the news. Is it true that Lady +Bassett is expected--" + +"Oh, that is no news." + +"It is to me." + +"'Tain't no news in our house. Why, we have known it for months." + +This took away the man's breath for a minute. + +At last he said, with a great deal of intention: + +"Will it be fair or dark?" + +"As God pleases." + +"I'll bet you five pounds to one that it is dark." + +Mary shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, as if these speculations +were too childish for her. + +"It's my lady you want to talk about, is it? I thought it was to make +me a wedding present." + +He actually put his hand in his pocket and gave her two sovereigns. She +took them with a grim smile. + +He presumed on this to question her minutely. + +She submitted to the interrogatory. + +Only, as the questions were not always delicate, and the answer was +invariably an untruth, it may be as well to pass over the rest of the +dialogue. Suffice it to say that, whenever the girl saw the drift of a +question she lied admirably; and when she did not, still she lied upon +principle: it must be a good thing to deceive the enemy. + + + +Richard Bassett was now perplexed, and saw himself in that very +position which had so galled Lady Bassett six weeks or so before. He +could not make any advantageous move, but was obliged to await events. +All he could do was to spy a little on Lady Bassett, and note how often +she went to the asylum. + +After many days' watching he saw something new. + +Mr. Angelo was speaking to her with a good deal of warmth, when +suddenly she started from him, and then turned round upon him in a very +commanding attitude, and with prodigious fire. Angelo seemed then to +address her very humbly. But she remained rigid. At last Angelo retired +and left her so; but he was no sooner out of sight than she dropped +into a garden seat, and, taking out her handkerchief, cried a long +time. + +"Why doesn't the fool come back?" said Bassett, from his tower of +observation. + +He related this incident to Wheeler, and it impressed that worthy more +than all he had ever said before on the same subject. But in a day or +two Wheeler, who was a great gossip, and picked up every thing, came +and told Bassett that the parson was looking out for a curate, and +going to leave his living for a time, on the ground of health. "That is +rather against your theory, Mr. Bassett," said he. + +"Not a bit," said Bassett. "On the contrary, that is just what these +artful women do who sacrifice virtue but cling all the more to +reputation. I read French novels, my boy." + +"Find 'em instructive?" + +"Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our writers dare. Her +turning away her lover _now_ is just the act of what the French call a +masterly woman--_maitresse femme._ She has got rid of him to close the +mouth of scandal; that is her game." + +"Well," said Wheeler, "you certainly are very ingenious, and so +fortified in your opinions that with you facts are no longer stubborn +things; you can twist them all your way. If he had stayed and buzzed +about her, while her husband was incarcerated, you would have found her +guilty: he goes to Rome and leaves her, and therefore you find her +guilty. You would have made a fine hanging judge in the good old +sanguinary times." + +"I use my eyes, my memory, and my reason. She is a monster of vice and +deceit. Anything is fair against such a woman." + +"I am sorry to hear you say that," said Wheeler, becoming grave rather +suddenly. "A woman is a woman, and I tell you plainly I have gone +pretty well to the end of my tether with you." + +"Abandon me, then," said Bassett, doggedly; "I can go alone." + +Wheeler was touched by this, and said, "No, no; I am not the man to +desert a friend; but pray do nothing rash--do nothing without +consulting me." + +Bassett made no reply. + +About a week after this, as Lady Bassett was walking sadly in her own +garden, a great Newfoundland dog ran up to her without any warning, and +put his paws almost on her shoulder. + +She screamed violently, and more than once. + +One or two windows flew open, and among the women who put their heads +out to see what was the matter, Mary Wells was the first. + +The owner of the dog instantly whistled, and the sportive animal ran to +him; but Lady Bassett was a good deal scared, and went in holding her +hand to her side. Mary Wells hurried to her assistance, and she cried a +little from nervousness when the young woman came earnestly to her. + +"Oh, Mary! he frightened me so. I did not see him coming." + +"Mr. Moss," said Mary Wells, "here's a villain come and frightened my +lady. Go and shoot his dog, you and your son; and get the grooms, and +fling him in the horse-pond directly." + +"No!" said Lady Bassett, firmly. "You will see that he does not enter +the house, that is all. Should he attempt that, then you will use force +for my protection. Mary, come to my room." + +When they were together alone Lady Bassett put both hands on the girl's +shoulders, and made her turn toward her. + +"I think you love me, Mary?" said she, drinking the girl's eyes with +her own. + +"Ah! that I do, my lady." + +"Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and why did you incite +those poor men to--It might have led to bloodshed." + +"It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady!" + +"Oh, Mary!" + +"What, don't you see?" + +"No, no; I don't want to think so. It might have been an accident. The +poor dog meant no harm; it was his way of fawning, that was all." + +"The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is worse than any beast +that ever was born; he is a cruel, cunning, selfish devil; and if I had +been a man he should never have got off alive." + +"But are you sure?" + +"Quite. I was upstairs, and saw it all." + +This was not true; she had seen nothing till her mistress screamed. + +"Then--anything is fair against such a villain." + +"Of course it is." + +"Let me think." + +She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelligent face of hers +quite shone with hard thought. + +At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke. + +"I'll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Richard Bassett," said she, slowly, +and with a strange depth of resolution. + +Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in close discussion; +but now Lady Bassett took the lead, and revealed to her astonished +adviser extraordinary and astounding qualities. + +They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous game to play with +such a woman. + +Mary Wells found herself a child compared with her mistress, now that +that lady was driven to put out all her powers. + +The conversation lasted about two hours: in that time the whole +campaign was settled. + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MARY WELLS by order went down, in a loose morning wrapper her mistress +had given her, and dined in the servants' hall. She was welcomed with a +sort of shout, half ironical; and the chief butler said, + +"Glad to see you come back to us, Miss Wells." + +"The same to you, sir," said Mary, with more pertness than logic; +"which I'm only come to take leave, for to-morrow I go to London, on +business." + +"La! what's the business, I wonder?" inquired a house-maid, +irreverentially. + +"Well, my business is not your business, Jane. However, if you want to +know, I'm going to be married." + +"And none too soon," whispered the kitchen-maid to a footman. + +"Speak up, my dear," said Mary. "There's nothing more vulgarer than +whispering in company." + +"I said, 'What will Bill Drake say to that?'" + +"Bill Drake will say he was a goose not to make up his mind quicker. +This will learn him beauty won't wait for no man. If he cries when I am +gone, you lend him your apron to wipe his eyes, and tell him women +can't abide shilly-shallying men." + +"That's a hexcellent sentiment," said John the footman, "and a solemn +warning it is--" + +"To all such as footmen be," said Mary. + +"We writes it in the fly-leaf of our Bibles accordingly," said John. + +"No, my man, write it somewhere where you'll have a chance to read it." + +This caused a laugh; and when it was over, the butler, who did not feel +strong enough to chaff a lady of this caliber, inquired obsequiously +whether he might venture to ask who was the happy stranger to carry off +such a prize. + +"A civil question deserves a civil answer, Mr. Wright," said Mary. "It +is a sea-faring man, the mate of a ship. He have known me a few years +longer than any man in these parts. Whenever he comes home from a +voyage he tells me what he has made, and asks me to marry him. I have +said 'No' so many times I'm sick and tired; so I have said 'Yes' for +once in a way. Changes are lightsome, you know." + +Thus airily did Mary Wells communicate her prospects, and next morning +early was driven to the station; a cart had gone before with her +luggage, which tormented the female servants terribly; for, instead of +the droll little servant's box, covered with paper, she had a large +lady's box, filled with linen and clothes by the liberality of Lady +Bassett, and a covered basket, and an old carpet-bag, with some minor +packages of an unintelligible character. Nor did she make any secret +that she had money in both pockets; indeed, she flaunted some notes +before the groom, and told him none but her lady knew all she had done +for Sir Charles. "But," said she, "he is grateful, you see, and so is +she." + +She went off in the train, as gay as a lark; but she was no sooner out +of sight than her face changed its whole expression, and she went up to +London very grave and thoughtful. + +The traveling carriage was ordered at ten o'clock next day, and packed +as for a journey. + +Lady Bassett took her housekeeper with her to the asylum. + +She had an interview with Sir Charles, and told him what Mr. Bassett +had done, and the construction Mary Wells had put on it. + +Sir Charles turned pale with rage, and said he could no longer play the +patient game. He must bribe a keeper, make his escape, and kill that +villain. + +Lady Bassett was alarmed, and calmed it down. + +"It was only a servant's construction, and she might be wrong; but it +frightened me terribly; and I fear it is the beginning of a series of +annoyances and encroachments; and I have lost Mr. Angelo; he has gone +to Italy. Even Mary Wells left me this morning to be married. I think I +know a way to turn all this against Mr. Bassett; but I will not say it, +because I want to hear what you advise, dearest." + +Sir Charles did not leave her long in doubt. He said, "There is but one +way; you must leave Huntercombe, and put yourself out of that +miscreant's way until our child is born." + +"That would not grieve me," said Lady Bassett. "The place is odious to +me, now you are not there. But what would censorious people say?" + +"What could they say, except that you obeyed your husband?" + +"Is it a command, then, dearest?" + +"It is a command; and, although you are free, and I am a +prisoner--although you are still an ornament to society, and I pass for +an outcast, still I expect you to obey me when I assume a husband's +authority. I have not taken the command of you quite so much as you +used to say I must; but on this occasion I do. You will leave +Huntercombe, and avoid that caitiff until our child is born." + +"That ends all discussion," said Lady Bassett. "Oh, Charles, my only +regret is that it costs me nothing to obey you. But when did it ever? +My king!" + +He had ordered her to do the very thing she wished to do. + +She now gave her housekeeper minute instructions, settled the board +wages of the whole establishment, and sent her home in the carriage, +retaining her own boxes and packages at the inn. + + + +Richard Bassett soon found out that Lady Bassett had left Huntercombe. +He called on Wheeler and told him. Wheeler suggested she had gone to be +near her husband. + +"No," said Bassett, "she has joined her lover. I wonder at our +simplicity in believing that fellow was gone to Italy." + +"This is rich," said Wheeler. "A week ago she was guilty, and a +Machiavel in petticoats; for why? she had quarreled with her Angelo, +and packed him off to Italy. Now she is guilty; and why? because he is +not gone to Italy--not that you know whether he is or not. You reason +like a mule. As for me, I believe none of this nonsense--till you find +them together." + +"And that is just what I mean to do." + +"We shall see." + +"You will see." + +Very soon after this a country gentleman met Wheeler on market-day, and +drew him aside to ask him a question. "Do you advise Mr. Richard +Bassett still?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you set him to trespass on Lady Bassett's lawn, and frighten her +with a great dog in the present state of her health?" + +"Heaven forbid! This is the first I've heard of such a thing." + +"I am glad to hear you say that, Tom Wheeler. There, read that. Your +client deserves to be flogged out of the county, sir." And he pulled a +printed paper out of his pocket. It was dated from the Royal Hotel, +Bath, and had been printed with blanks, as follows; but a lady's hand +had filled in the dates. + +"On the day ---- of ----, while I was walking alone in my garden, Mr. +Richard Bassett, the person who has bereaved me by violence of my +protector, came, without leave, into my private grounds, and brought a +very large dog; it ran to me, and frightened me so that I nearly +fainted with alarm. Mr. Bassett was aware of my condition. Next day I +consulted my husband, and he ordered me to leave Huntercombe Hall, and +put myself beyond the reach of trespassers and outrage. + +"One motive has governed Mr. Bassett in all his acts, from his +anonymous letter to me before my marriage--which I keep for your +inspection, together with the proofs that he wrote it--to the barbarous +seizure of my husband upon certificates purchased beforehand, and this +last act of violence, which has driven me from the county for a time. + +"Sir Charles and I have often been your hosts and your guests; we now +ask you to watch our property and our legal rights, so long as through +injustice and cruelty my husband is a prisoner, his wife a fugitive." + + + +"There," said the gentleman, "these papers are going all round the +county." + +Wheeler was most indignant, and said he had never been consulted, and +had never advised a trespass. He begged a loan of the paper, and took +it to Bassett's that very same afternoon. + +"So you have been acting without advice," said he, angrily; "and a fine +mess you have made of it." And, though not much given to violent anger, +he dashed the paper down on the table, and hurt his hand a little. +Anger must be paid for, like other luxuries. + +Bassett read it, and was staggered a moment; but he soon recovered +himself, and said, "What is the foolish woman talking about?" + +He then took a sheet of paper, and said he would soon give her a Roland +for an Oliver. + +"Ay," said Wheeler, grimly, "let us see how you will put down _the +foolish woman._ I'll smoke a cigar in the garden, and recover my +temper." + +Richard Bassett's retort ran thus: + + + +"I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and if I put restraint +upon Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. Experienced +physicians represented him homicidal and suicidal; and I protected both +Lady Bassett and himself by the act she has interpreted so harshly. + +"As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle as a +lamb. I did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor that the poor +dog would run and welcome her. She is playing a comedy: the real truth +is, a gentleman had left Huntercombe whose company is necessary to her. +She has gone to join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +When he had written this Bassett ordered his dog-cart. + +Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last suggestion in it +was a libel, and an indictable one into the bargain. + +"What, if it is true--true to the letter?" + +"Even then you would not be safe, unless you could prove it by +disinterested witnesses." + +"Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut this sentence out. Excuse me one +minute, I must put a few things in my carpetbag." + +"What! going away?" + +"Of course I am." + +"Better give me your address, then, in case anything turns up." + +"If you were as sharp as you pass for you would know my address--Royal +Hotel, Bath, to be sure." + +He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes with his +carpet-bag and wraps. + +"Wouldn't to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose chase?" asked +Wheeler. + +"No," said Richard. "I'm not such a fool. Catch me losing twelve hours. +In that twelve hours they would shift their quarters. It is always so +when a fool delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath." + +The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he rattled off to the +railway. + +He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 A.M., took a warm bath +instead of bed, and then ordered breakfast; asked to see the visitors' +book, and wrote a false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, +saw Lady Bassett's name. + +But he could not find Mr. Angelo's name in the book. + +He got hold of Boots, and feed him liberally, then asked him if there +was a handsome young parson there--very dark. + +Boots could not say there was. + +Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at another hotel, or +perhaps in lodgings, out of prudence. + +"Lady Bassett here still?" said he. + +Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. Did inquire, and +brought him word Lady Bassett had left for London yesterday morning. + +Bassett ground his teeth with vexation. + +No train to London for an hour and a half. He took a stroll through the +town to fill up the time. + +How often, when a man abandons or remits his search for a time, Fate +sends in his way the very thing he is after, but has given up hunting +just then! As he walked along the north side of a certain street, what +should he see but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eyebrows +of Mr. Angelo, shining from afar. + +That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps of a small +hotel. + +Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen. Looking round he saw he was +at the door of a respectable house that let apartments. He hurried in, +examined the drawing-room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, +and sent to the Royal for his bag. + +He installed himself near the window, to await one of two things, and +act accordingly. If Angelo left the place he should go by the same +train, and so catch the parties together; if the lady doubled back to +Bath, or had only pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, by +diligent watch and careful following. + +He wrote to Wheeler to announce this first step toward success. + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +SOME days after this Mr. Rolfe received a line from Lady Bassett, to +say she was at the Adelphi Hotel, in John Street. He put some letters +into his pocket and called on her directly. + +She received him warmly, and told him, more fully than she had by +letter, how she had acted on his advice; then she told him of Richard +Bassett's last act, and showed him her retort. + +He knitted his brows at first over it; but said he thought her +proclamation could do no harm. + +"As a rule," said he, "I object to flicking with a lady's whip when I +am going to crush, but--yes--it is able, and gives you a good excuse +for keeping out of the way of annoyances till we strike the blow. And +now I have something to consult you upon. May I read you some extracts +from your husband's letters to me?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Forgive a novelist; but this is a new situation, reading a husband's +letters to his wife. However, I have a motive, and so I had in +soliciting the correspondence with Sir Charles." He then read her the +letters that are already before the reader, and also the following +extracts: + + + +"Mr. Johnson, a broken tradesman, has some imagination, though not of a +poetic kind; he is imbued with trade, and, in the daytime, exercises +several, especially a butcher's. When he sees any of us coming, he +whips before the nearest door or gate, and sells meat. He sells it very +cheap; the reason is, his friends allow him only a shilling or two in +coppers, and as every madman is the center of the universe, he thinks +that the prices of all commodities are regulated by the amount of +specie in his pocket. This is his style, 'Come, buy, buy, choice mutton +three farthings the carcass. Retail shop next door, ma'am. Jack, serve +the lady. Bill, tell him he can send me home those twenty bullocks, at +three half-pence each--' and so on. But at night he subsides into an +auctioneer, and, with knocking down lots while others are conversing, +gets removed occasionally to a padded room. Sometimes we humor him, and +he sells us the furniture after a spirited competition, and debits the +amounts, for cash is not abundant here. The other night, heated with +business, he went on from the articles of furniture to the company, and +put us all up in succession. + +"Having a good many dislikes, he sometimes forgot the auctioneer in the +man, and depreciated some lots so severely that they had to be passed; +but he set Miss Wieland in a chair, and descanted on her beauty, good +temper, and other gifts, in terms florid enough for Robins, or any +other poet. Sold for eighteen pounds, and to a lady. This lady had +formed a violent attachment to Miss W.; so next week they will be at +daggers drawn. My turn came, and the auctioneer did me the honor to +describe me as 'the lot of the evening.' He told the bidders to mind +what they were about, they might never again be able to secure a live +baronet at a moderate price, owing to the tightness of the money +market. Well, sir, I was honored with bids from several ladies; but +they were too timid and too honest to go beyond their means; my less +scrupulous sex soared above these considerations, and I was knocked +down for seventy-nine pounds fifteen shillings, amid loud applause at +the spirited result. My purchaser is a shop-keeper mad after gardening. +Dr. Suaby has given him a plot to cultivate, and he whispered in my +ear, 'The reason I went to a fancy price was, I can kill two birds with +one stone with you. You'll make a very good statee stuck up among my +flowers; and you can hallo, and keep those plaguy sparrows off.'" + + + +"Oh, what creatures for my darling to live among!" cried Lady Bassett +piteously. + +Mr. Rolfe stared, and said, "What, then, you are like all your sex--no +sense of humor?" + +"Humor! when my husband is in misery and degradation!" + +"And don't you see that the brave writer of these letters is steeled +against misery, and above degradation? Such men are not the mere sport +of circumstances. Your husband carries a soul not to be quelled by +three months in a well-ordered mad-house. But I will read no more, +since what gives me satisfaction gives you pain." + +"Oh, yes, yes! Don't let me lose a word my husband has ever uttered." + +"Well, I'll go on; but I'm horribly discouraged." + +"I'm so sorry for that sir. Please forgive me." + +Mr. Rolfe read the letter next in date-- + + + +"We are honored with one relic of antiquity, a Pythagorean. He has +obliged me with his biography. He was, to use his own words, engendered +by the sun shining on a dunghill at his father's door,' and began his +career as a flea; but his identity was, somehow, shifted to a boy of +nine years old. He has had a long spell of humanity, and awaits the +great change--which is to turn him to a bee. It will not find him +unprepared; he has long practiced humming, in anticipation. A faithful +friend, called Caffyn, used to visit him every week. Caffyn died last +year, and the poor Pythagorean was very lonely and sad; but, two months +ago, he detected his friend in the butcher's horse, and is more than +consoled, for he says, Caffyn comes six times a week now, instead of +once.'" + + + +"Poor soul!" said Lady Bassett. "What a strange world for him to be +living in. It seems like a dream." + +"There is something stranger coming in this last letter." + +"I have at last found one madman allied to Genius. It has taken me a +fortnight to master his delusion, and to write down the vocabulary he +has invented to describe the strange monster of his imagination. All +the words I write in italics are his own. + +"Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed for malignant +purposes, which machine is an _air-loom._ It rivals the human machine +in this, that it can operate either on mind or matter. It was invented, +and is worked, by a gang of villains superlatively skillful in +_pneumatic chemistry, physiology, nervous influence, sympathy,_ and the +_higher metaphysic,_ men far beyond the immature science of the present +era, which, indeed, is a favorite subject of their ridicule. + +"The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only seen the four +highest: _Bill, the King,_ a master of the art of _magnetic +impregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster,_ the short-hand writer of the +gang; _Sir Archy,_ Chief Liar to the Association; and the +_glove-woman,_ so called from her always wearing cotton mittens. This +personage has never been known to speak to any one. + +"The materials used in the air-loom by these _pneumatic adepts_ are +infinite; but principally _effluvia of certain metals, poisons, +soporific scents,_ etc. + +"The principal effects are: + +"1st. EVENT-WORKING.--This is done by _magnetic manipulation_ of kings, +emperors, prime ministers, and others; so that, while the world is +fearing and admiring them, they are, in reality, mere puppets played by +the workers of the air-loom. + +"2d. CUTTING SOUL FROM SENSE.--This is done _by diffusing the magnetic +warp from the root of the nose under the base of the skull, till it +forms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can have no +communication with the operations of the intellect._ + +"3d. KITING.--As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air-loom can lift +an idea into the brain, where it floats and undulates for hours +together. The victim cannot get rid of an idea so insinuated. + +"4th. LOBSTER-CRACKING.--An external pressure of the magnetic +atmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams has been so +operated on, and says he felt as if he was grasped by an enormous pair +of nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected to a piercing pressure, which +he still remembers with horror. Death sometimes results from +Lobster-cracking. + +"5th. LENGTHENING THE BRAIN.--_As the cylindrical mirror lengthens the +countenance,_ so these assailants find means to _elon_gate the brain. +This distorts the ideas, and subjects the most serious are made silly +and ridiculous. + +"6th. THOUGHT-MAKING.--While one of these villains sucks at the brain +of the assailed, and extracts his existing sentiments, another will +press into the vacuum ideas very different from his real thoughts. Thus +his mind is physically enslaved." + + + +Then Sir Charles goes on to say: + + + +"Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I thought I would +try and reason him out of his delusion. I asked if he had ever seen +this gang and their machine. + +"He said yes, they operated on him this morning. 'Then show them me,' +said I. 'Young man,' said he, satirically, 'do you think these +assassins, and their diabolical machine, would be allowed to go on, if +they could be laid hands on so easily? The gang are fertile in +disguise; the machine operates at considerable distances.' + +"To drive him into a corner, I said, 'Will you give me a drawing of +it?' He seemed to hesitate, so I said, 'If you can not draw it, you +never saw it, and never will.' He assented to that, and I was vain +enough to think I had staggered him; but yesterday he produced the +inclosed sketch and explanation. After this I sadly fear he is +incurable. + +"There are three sane patients in this asylum, besides myself. I will +tell you their stories when you come here, which I hope will be soon; +for the time agreed on draws near, and my patience and self-control are +sorely tried, as day after day rolls by, and sees me still in a +madhouse." + + + +"There, Lady Bassett," said Mr. Rolfe. "And now for my motive in +reading these letters. Sir Charles may still have a crotchet, an +inordinate desire for an heir; but, even if he has, the writer of these +letters has nothing to fear from any jury; and, therefore, I am now +ready to act. I propose to go down to the asylum to-morrow, and get him +out as quickly as I can." + +Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then she turned suddenly +pale, and her countenance fell. She said nothing. + +Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last meeting, she was +writhing at her inaction. He began to puzzle himself. She watched him +keenly. He thought to himself, "Perhaps she dreads the excitement of +meeting--for herself." + +At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would take to liberate Sir +Charles. + +"Not quite a week, if Richard Bassett is well advised. If he fights +desperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the work +an hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mix +the two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don't +like to say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and write +to Dr. Suaby that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get a +line from you to go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do the +work." + +This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thanked +him. + +"You need not waste words over it," said he. "Write one word, 'ACT!' +That will be the shortest letter you ever wrote." + +The rest of the conversation is not worth recording. + +Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, and +waited. + +But day after day went by, and the order never came to act. + +Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he +could have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But +he rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. +He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both +husband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the +delay. + +Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time. + +At last a letter came from Gloucester Place. + + + +"Will my kind friend now ACT? + +"Gratefully, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for +Bellevue House. + + + +On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea +with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had +left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of +undoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London. + +The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door. + +A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of +title in Gloucester Place, hard by. + +"I will come," said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as +soon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each +other. + +"Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady." + +Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was +opened by the charwoman. + +He asked her with some doubt if that was the house. + +The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was +from the country, and was looking out for some servants. + +This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, over +the balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's saying +it was, begged him to step upstairs at once. + +He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was all +discretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, she +would do anything for her dear mistress. + +Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who could +obey orders, was as good as a number, or better. + +He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at once +that the patient was in labor. + +He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, and +dine with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments. + +The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam--a meek, sorrowful +patient--an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland. + +Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite. + +Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents. + +"So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?" + +"The humors of the place, you mean." + +"Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected me +along with the rest?" + +"No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His pen +failed at you. 'You must come and _see_ the doctor,' he said. So here I +am." + +"Oh," said the doctor, "if your wit and his are both to be leveled at +me, I had better stop your mouths. Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, will +you take Miss Wieland? Sorry we have not another lady to keep you +company, madam." + +"Are you? Then I'm not," said the lady smartly. + +The dinner passed like any other, only Rolfe observed that Dr. Suaby +took every fair opportunity of drawing the pluckless Mr. Hyam into +conversation, and that he coldly ignored the Exquisite. + +"I have seen that young man about town, I think," said Mr. Rolfe. +"Where was it, I wonder?" + +"The Argyll Rooms, or the Casino, probably." + +"Thank you, doctor. Oh, I forgot; you owed me one. He is no favorite of +yours." + +"Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally." + +"Medicinally? That's too deep for a layman." + +"To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good." + +"Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought." + +"No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; but you know very +little, begging your pardon." + +"That is the theory of compensation. When you know very little about a +thing you must talk a great deal about it. Well, I'm here for +instruction; thirsting for it." + +"All the better; we'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart." + +"All right: but not of your favorite Acetate of Morphia; because that +is the draught that takes the reason prisoner." + +"It's no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has taught me that all +sedatives excite; if they soothe at first, they excite next day. My +antidotes to mental excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and, best +of all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows it. To +put it shortly--prolonged bodily excitement antidotes mental +excitement." + +"I'll take a note of that. It is the wisest thing I ever heard from any +learned physician." + +"Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are a little prejudiced +against the faculty." + +"Only in their business. They are delightful out of that. But, come +now, nobody hears us--confess, the system which prescribes drugs, +drugs, drugs at every visit and in every case, and does not give a +severe selection of esculents the first place, but only the second or +third, must be rotten at the core. Don't you despise a layman's eye. +All the professions want it." + +"Well, you are a writer; publish a book, call it Medicina laici, and +send me a copy." + +"To slash in the _Lancet?_ Well, I will: when novels cease to pay and +truth begins to." + +In the course of the evening Mr. Rolfe drew Dr. Suaby apart, and said, +"I must tell you frankly, I mean to relieve you of one of your +inmates." + +"Only one? I was in hopes you would relieve me of all the sane people. +They say you are ingenious at it. All I know is, I can't get rid of an +inmate if the person who signed the order resists. Now, for instance, +here's a Mrs. Hallam came here unsound: religious delusion. Has been +cured two months. I have reported her so to her son-in-law, who signed +the order; but he will not discharge her. He is vicious, she +scriptural; bores him about eternity. Then I wrote to the Commissioners +in Lunacy; but they don't like to strain their powers, so they wrote to +the affectionate son-in-law, and he politely declines to act. Sir +Charles Bassett the same: three weeks ago I reported him cured, and the +detaining relative has not even replied to me." + +"Got a copy of your letter?" + +"Of course. But what if I tell you there is a gentleman here who never +had any business to come, yet he is as much a fixture as the grates. I +took him blindfold along with the house. I signed a deed, and it is so +stringent I can't evade one of my predecessor's engagements. This old +rogue committed himself to my predecessor's care, under medical +certificates; the order he signed himself." + +"Illegal, you know." + +"Of course; but where's the remedy? The person who signed the order +must rescind it. But this sham lunatic won't rescind it. Altogether the +tenacity of an asylum is prodigious. The statutes are written with +bird-lime. Twenty years ago that old Skinflint found the rates and +taxes intolerable; and doesn't everybody find them intolerable? To +avoid these rates and taxes he shut up his house, captured himself, and +took himself here; and here he will end his days, excluding some +genuine patient, unless _you_ sweep him into the street for me." + +"Sindbad, I will try," said Rolfe, solemnly; "but I must begin with Sir +Charles Bassett. By-the-by, about his crotchet?" + +"Oh, he has still an extravagant desire for children. But the cerebral +derangement is cured, and the other, standing by itself, is a foible, +not a mania. It is only a natural desire in excess. If they brought me +Rachel merely because she had said, 'Give me children, or I die,' and I +found her a healthy woman in other respects, I should object to receive +her on that score alone." + +"You are deadly particular--compared with some of them," said Rolfe. + +That evening he made an appointment with Sir Charles, and visited him +in his room at 8 A. M. He told him he had seen Lady Bassett in London, +and, of course, he had to answer many questions. He then told him he +came expressly to effect his liberation. + +"I am grateful to you, sir," said Sir Charles, with a suppressed and +manly emotion. + +"Here are my instructions from Lady Bassett; short, but to the point." + +"May I keep that?" + +"Why, of course." + +Sir Charles kissed his wife's line, and put the note in his breast. + +"The first step," said Rolfe, "is to cut you in two. That is soon done. +You must copy in your own hand, and then sign, this writing." And he +handed him a paper. + + + +"I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct James Sharpe, +of Gray's Inn, my Solicitor, to sue the person who signed the order for +my incarceration--in the Court of Common Pleas; and to take such other +steps for my relief as may be advised by my counsel--Mr. Francis +Rolfe." + + + +"Excuse me," said Sir Charles, "if I make one objection. Mr. Oldfield +has been my solicitor for many years. I fear it will hurt his feelings +if I intrust the matter to a stranger. Would there be any objection to +my inserting Mr. Oldfield's name, sir?" + +"Only this: he would think he knew better than I do; and then I, who +know better than he does, and am very vain and arrogant, should throw +up the case in a passion, and go back to my MS.; and humdrum Oldfield +would go to Equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall on your +estate instead of on your enemy; and you would be here eighteen months +instead of eight or ten days. No, Sir Charles, you can't mix champagne +and ditch-water; you can't make Invention row in a boat with Antique +Twaddle, and you mustn't ask me to fight your battle with a blunt +knife, when I have got a sharp knife that fits my hand." + +Mr. Rolfe said this with more irritation than was justified, and +revealed one of the great defects in his character. + +Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled, and said, "I withdraw a proposal +which I see annoys you." He then signed the paper. + +Mr. Rolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, "Now you are cut in +two. One you is here; but Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you works +out of the asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference. +Compare notes with those who have tried the other way. Yet, simple and +obvious as this is, would you believe it, I alone have discovered this +method; I alone practice it." + +He sent his secretary off to London at once, and returned to Sir +Charles. "The authority will be with Sharpe at 2:30. He will be at +Whitehall 3:15, and examine the order. He will take the writ out at +once, and if Richard Bassett is the man, he will serve it on him +to-morrow in good time, and send one of your grooms over here on +horseback with the news. We serve the writ personally, because we have +shufflers to deal with, and I will not give them a chance. Now I must +go and write a lie or two for the public; and then inspect the asylum +with Suaby. Before post-time I will write to a friend of mine who is a +Commissioner of Lunacy, one of the strong-minded ones. We may as well +have two strings to our bow." + +Sir Charles thanked him gracefully, and said, "It is a rare thing, in +this selfish world, to see one man interest himself in the wrongs of +another, as you are good enough to do in mine." + +"Oh," said Rolfe, "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. My +business is Lying; and I drudge at it. So to escape now and then to the +play-ground of Truth and Justice is a great amusement and recreation to +poor me. Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into Mendacity; +and that's the thing that pays." + +With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled away. + +Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this vein of +incident, I jump to what occurred toward evening. + +Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. Suaby that a man had +walked all the way from Huntercombe to see Sir Charles Bassett. + +"Poor fellow!" said Dr. Suaby; "I should like to see him. Would you +mind receiving him here?" + +"Oh, no." + +"On second thoughts, James, you had better light a candle in the next +room--in case." + +A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of Moses Moss entered +the room. Being bareheaded, he saluted the company by pulling his head, +and it bobbed. He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soon +distinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance beamed with simple +and affectionate satisfaction. + +"How d'ye do, Moss?" said Sir Charles. + +"Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in my mind. There +be a trifle too many rogues afoot to please me. However, I told my +mistress this morning, says I, 'Before I puts up with this here any +longer, I must go over there and see him; for here's so many lies +a-cutting about,' says I, 'I'm fairly mazed.' So, if you please, Sir +Charles, will you be so good as to tell me out of your own mouth, and +then I shall know: be you crazy or hain't you--ay or no?" + +Suaby and Rolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; but Sir Charles +said, gravely, he was not crazy. "Do I look crazy, Moss?" + +"That ye doan't; you look twice the man you did. Why, your cheeks did +use to be so pasty like; now you've got a color--but mayhap" (casting +an eye on the decanters) "ye're flustered a bit wi' drink." + +"No, no," said Rolfe, "we have not commenced our nightly debauch yet; +only just done dinner." + +"Then there goes another. This will be good news to home. Dall'd if I +would not ha' come them there thirty miles on all-fours for't. But, +sir, if so be you are not crazy, please think about coming home, for +things ain't as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away for +her groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard Bassett; and him +and his lawyer they have put it about as you are dead in law; that is +the word: and so the servants they don't know what to think; and the +village folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on 'em in jail: +and Joe and I, we wants to fight un, but my dame she is timorous, and +won't let us, because of the laayer. And th' upshot is, this here +Richard Bassett is master after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, +and brings men with a pole measure, and uses the place as his'n mostly; +but our Joe bides in the Hall with his gun, and swears he'll shoot him +if he sets foot in the house. Joe says he have my lady's leave and +license so to do, but not outside." + +Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with indignation. + +Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, "Control yourself, sir.'" + +"I am not going to control _myself,"_ cried Rolfe, in a rage. "Don't +you take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall not last long." + +"Ah!" + +"Dr. Suaby, can you lend me a gig or a dog-cart, with a good horse?" + +"Yes. I have got a WONDERFUL roadster, half Irish, half Norman." + +"Then, Mr. Moss, to-morrow you and I go to Huntercombe: you shall show +me this Bassett, and we will give him a pill." + +"Meantime," said Dr. Suaby, "I take a leaf out of your Medicina laici, +and prescribe a hearty supper, a quart of ale, and a comfortable bed to +Mr. Moss. James, see him well taken care of. Poor man!" said he, when +Moss had retired. "What simplicity! what good sense! what ignorance of +the world! what feudality, if I may be allowed the expression." + +Sir Charles was manifestly discomposed, and retired to bed early. + +Rolfe drove off with Moss at eight o'clock, and was not seen again all +day. Indeed, Sir Charles was just leaving Dr. Suaby's room when he came +in rather tired, and would not say a word till they gave him a cup of +tea: then he brightened up and told his story. + +"We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff did not come nor send +by the first train. His clerk arrived by the second. We went to +Huntercombe village together, and on the road I gave him some special +instructions. Richard Bassett not at home. We used a little bad +language and threw out a skirmisher--Moss, to wit--to find him. Moss +discovered him on your lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flower +beds, with Wheeler looking over the boundary wall. + +"We went up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. He +took it quite coolly; but when he saw at whose suit it was he turned +pale. He recovered himself directly, though, and burst out laughing. +'Suit of Sir Charles Bassett. Why, he can't sue: he is civiliter +mortuus: mad as a March hare: in confinement.' Clerk told him he was +mistaken; Sir Charles was perfectly sane. 'Good-day, sir.' So then +Bassett asked him to wait a little. He took the writ away, and showed +it Wheeler, no doubt. He came back, and blustered, and said, 'Some +other person has instructed you: you will get yourself into trouble, I +fear.' The little clerk told him not to alarm himself; Mr. Sharpe was +instructed by Sir Charles Bassett, in his own handwriting and +signature, and said, 'It is not my business to argue the case with you. +You had better take the advice of counsel.' 'Thank you,' said Bassett; +'that would be wasting a guinea.' 'A good many thousand guineas have +been lost by that sort of economy,' says the little clerk, solemnly. +Oh, and he told him Mr. Sharpe was instructed to indict him for a +trepass if he ever came there again; and handed him a written paper to +that effect, which we two had drawn up at the station; and so left him +to his reflections. We went into the house, and called the servants +together, and told them to keep the rooms warm and the beds aired, +since you might return any day." + +Upon this news Sir Charles showed no premature or undignified triumph, +but some natural complacency, and a good deal of gratitude. + +The next day was blank of events, but the next after Mr. Rolfe received +a letter containing a note addressed to Sir Charles Bassett. Mr. Rolfe +sent it to him. + + + +SIR--I am desired to inform you that I attended Lady Bassett last +night, when she was safely delivered of a son. Have seen her again this +morning. Mother and child are doing remarkably well. + +"W. BODDINGTON, Surgeon, 17 Upper Gloucester Place." + + + +Sir Charles cried, "Thank God! thank God!" He held out the paper to Mr. +Rolfe, and sat down, overpowered by tender emotions. + +Mr. Rolfe devoured the surgeon's letter at one glance, shook the +baronet's hand eloquently, and went away softly, leaving him with his +happiness. + +Sir Charles, however, began now to pine for liberty; he longed so to +join his wife and see his child, and Rolfe, observing this, chafed with +impatience. He had calculated on Bassett, advised by Wheeler, taking +the wisest course, and discharging him on the spot. He had also hoped +to hear from the Commissioner of Lunacy. But neither event took place. + +They could have cut the Gordian knot by organizing an escape: Giles and +others were to be bought to that: but Dr. Suaby's whole conduct had +been so kind, generous, and confiding, that this was out of the +question. Indeed, Sir Charles had for the last month been there upon +parole. + +Yet the thing had been wisely planned, as will appear when I come to +notice the advice counsel had given to Bassett in this emergency. But +Bassett would not take advice: he went by his own head, and prepared a +new and terrible blow, which Mr. Rolfe did not foresee. + +But meantime an unlooked-for and accidental assistant came into the +asylum, without the least idea Sir Charles was there. + +Mrs. Marsh, early in her married life, converted her husband to +religion, and took him about the county preaching. She was in earnest, +and had a vein of natural eloquence that really went straight to +people's bosoms. She was certainly a Christian, though an eccentric +one. Temper being the last thing to yield to Gospel light, she still +got into rages; but now she was very humble and penitent after them. + +Well, then, after going about doing good, she decided to settle down +and do good. As for Marsh, he had only to obey. Judge for yourself: the +mild, gray-haired vicar of Calverly, who now leaned on la Marsh as on a +staff, thought it right at the beginning to ascertain that she was not +opposing her husband's views. He put a query of this kind as delicately +as possible. + +"My husband!" cried she. "If he refused to go to heaven with me, I'd +take him there by the ear." And her eye flashed with the threat. + +Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Vandeleur was ruined, and in Dr. +Suaby's asylum, not ten miles from her country-seat. This intelligence +touched her. She contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly and +spiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and she felt bound +to see if nothing could be done for the poor wretch. A timid Christian +would have sent some man to do the good work; but this was a lion-like +one. So she mounted her horse, and taking only her groom with her, was +at Bellevue in no time. + +She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, sent in her card, +and was received at once. + +"You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur?" + +The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. + +"I wish to see him." + +"Certainly, madam.--James, take Mrs. Marsh into a sitting-room, and +send Mr. Vandeleur to her." + +"He is not violent, is he?" said Mrs. Marsh, beginning to hesitate when +she saw there was no opposition. + +"Not at all, madam--the Pink of Politeness. If you have any money about +you, it might be as well to confide it to me." + +"What, will he rob me?" + +"Oh, no: much too well conducted: but he will most likely wheedle you +out of it." + +"No fear of that, sir." And she followed James. + +He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She looked out of the +window, and saw several ladies and gentlemen walking at their ease, +reading or working in the sun. + +"Poor things!" she thought; "they are not so very miserable: perhaps +God comforts them by ways unknown to us. I wonder whether preaching +would do them any good? I should like to try. But they would not let +me; they lean on the arm of flesh." + +Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door opening gently, and +in came Vandeleur, with his graceful panther-like step, and a winning +smile he had put on for conquest. + +He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and astounded. + +At last he burst out, "Somer--Was it me you wished to see?" + +"Yes," said she, very kindly. "I came to see you for old acquaintance. +You must call me Mrs. Marsh now; I am married." + +By this time he had quite recovered himself, and offered her a chair +with ingratiating zeal. + +"Sit down by me," said she, as if she was petting a child. "Are you +sure you remember me?" + +Says the Courtier, "Who could forget you that had ever had the honor--" + +Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. "I did not come here for +folly," said she. Then, rather naively, "I begin to doubt your being so +very mad." + +"Mad? No, of course I am not." + +"Then what brings you here?" + +"Stumped." + +"What, have I mistaken the house? Is it a jail?" + +"Oh, no! I'll tell you. You see I was dipped pretty deep, and duns +after me, and the Derby my only chance; so I put the pot on. But a dark +horse won: the Jews knew I was done: so now it was a race which should +take me. Sloman had seven writs out: I was in a corner. I got a friend +that knows every move to sign me into this asylum. They thought it was +all up then, and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound." + +Before he could complete this autobiographical sketch Mrs. Marsh +started up in a fury, and brought her whip down on the table with a +smartish cut. + +"You little heartless villain!" she screamed. "Is this, the way you +play upon people: bringing me from my home to console a maniac, and, +instead of that, you are only what you always were, a spendthrift and a +scamp? Finely they will laugh at me." + +She clutched the whip in her white but powerful hand till it quivered +in the air, impatient for a victim. + +"Oh!" she cried, panting, and struggling with her passion, "if I wasn't +a child of God, I'd--" + +"You'd give me a devilish good hiding," said Vandeleur, demurely. + +"That I _would,"_ said she, very earnestly. + +"You forget that I never told you I was mad. How could I imagine you +would hear it? How could I dream you would come, even if you did?" + +"I should be no Christian if I didn't come." + +"But I mean we parted bad friends, you know." + +"Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse you sent me a new +sidesaddle. A woman does not forget those little things. You were a +gentleman, though a child of Belial." + +Vandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to say, "In both those +matters you are the highest authority earth contains." + +"So come," said she, "here is plenty of writing-paper. Now tell me all +your debts, and I will put them down." + +"What is the use? At a shilling in the pound, six hundred will pay them +all." + +"Are you sure?" + +"As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the money." + +"Oh, I only mean to lend it you." + +"That alters the case." + +"Prodigiously." And she smiled satirically. "Now your friend's address, +that is treating with your creditors." + +"Must I?" + +"Unless you want to put me in a great passion." + +"Anything sooner than that." Then he wrote it for her. + +"And now," said she, "grant me a little favor for old acquaintance. +Just kneel you down there, and let me wrestle with Heaven for you, that +you may be a brand plucked from the fire, even as I am." + +The Pink of Politeness submitted, with a sigh of resignation. + +Then she prayed for him so hard, so beseechingly, so eloquently, he was +amazed and touched. + +She rose from her knees, and laid her head on her hand, exhausted a +little by her own earnestness. + +He stood by her, and hung his head. + +"You are very good," he said. "It is a shame to let you waste it on me. +Look here--I want to do a little bit of good to another man, after you +praying so beautifully." + +"Ah! I am so glad. Tell me." + +"Well, then, you mustn't waste a thought on me, Rhoda. I'm a gambler +and a fool: let me go to the dogs at once; it is only a question of +time: but there's a fellow here that is in trouble, and doesn't deserve +it, and he was a faithful friend to you, I believe. I never was. And he +has got a wife: and by what I hear, you could get him out, I think, and +I am sure you would be angry with me afterward if I didn't tell you; +you have such a good heart. It is Sir Charles Bassett." + +"Sir Charles Bassett here! Oh, his poor wife! What drove him mad? Poor, +poor Sir Charles!" + +"Oh, he is all right. They have cured him entirely; but there is no +getting him out, and he is beginning to lose heart, they say. There's a +literary swell here can tell you all about it; he has come down +expressly: but they are in a fix, and I think you could help them out. +I wish you would let me introduce you to him." + +"To whom?" + +"To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels." + +"I adore him. Introduce me at once. But Sir Charles must not see me, +nor know I am here. Say Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett's, begs to +be introduced." + +Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe; but whispered out of his own +head, "A character for your next novel--a saint with the devil's own +temper." + +This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her directly. + +As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, these two knew +each other intimately in about twelve minutes; and Rolfe told her all +the facts I have related, and Marsh went into several passions, and +corrected herself, and said she had been a great sinner, but was +plucked from the burning, and therefore thankful to anybody who would +give her a little bit of good to do. + +Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged her to see the +Commissioners in Lunacy, and use all her eloquence to get one of them +down. "They don't act upon my letters," said he; "but it will be +another thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts it to them in person, +with all that power of face and voice I see in you. You are all fire; +and you can talk Saxon." + +"Oh, I'll talk to them," said Mrs. Marsh, "and God will give me words; +He always does when I am on His side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heart +bleeds for her. I will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night, if you +like. To-night? I'll go this instant!" + +"What!" said Rolfe: "is there a lady in the world who will go a journey +without packing seven trunks--and merely to do a good action?" + +"You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost time." + +"At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose none. So I'll arm +you at once with certain documents, and you must not leave the +commissioners till they promise to send one of their number down +without delay to examine him, and discharge him if he is as we +represent." + +Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe to Dr. Suaby's study. + +They armed her with letters and written facts, and she rode off at a +fiery pace; but not before she and Rolfe had sworn eternal friendship. + +The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She was chilled, but not +daunted. She produced Suaby's letter and Rolfe's, and when they were +read she played the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, she +convinced, she persuaded, she thundered. Fire seemed to come out of the +woman. + +Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, caught fire, and +declared he would go down next day and look into the matter on the +spot; and he kept his word. He came down; he saw Sir Charles and Suaby, +and penetrated the case. + +Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good heart, but rather +an arrogant manner. He was also slightly affected with official +pomposity and reticence; so, unfortunately, he went away without +declaring his good intentions, and discouraged them all with the fear +of innumerable delays in the matter. + +Now if Justice is slow, Injustice is swift. The very next day a +thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles and his friends. + +Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers from an asylum +kept by Burdoch, a layman, the very opposite of the benevolent Suaby. +His was a place where the old system of restraint prevailed, secretly +but largely: strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleas +and bugs destroyed the patients' rest; and to counteract the insects +morphia was administered freely. Given to the bugs and fleas, it would +have been an effectual antidote; but they gave it to the patients, and +so the insects won. + +These three keepers came with an order correctly drawn, and signed by +Richard Bassett, to deliver Sir Charles to the agents showing the +order. + +Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at the sight of the +order, and took it to Rolfe. + +"Resist!" said that worthy. + +"I have no right." + +"On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while I--Has Bassett +paid you for Sir Charles's board?" + +"No." + +"Decline to give him up till that is done, and be some time making out +the bill. Come what may, pray keep Sir Charles here till I send you a +note that I am ready." + +He then hastened to Sir Charles and unfolded his plans, to him. + +Sir Charles assented eagerly. He was quite willing to run risks with +the hope of immediate liberation, which Rolfe held out. His own part +was to delay and put off till he got a line from Rolfe. + +Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole and the doctor's dog-cart, and +dashed into the town, distant two miles. + +First he went to the little theater, and found them just concluding a +rehearsal. Being a playwright, he was known to nearly all the people, +more or less, and got five supers and one carpenter to join him--for a +consideration. + +He then made other arrangements in the town, the nature of which will +appear in due course. + +Meantime Suaby had presented his bill. One of the keepers got into the +fly and took it back to the town. There, as Rolfe had anticipated, +lurked Richard Bassett. He cursed the delay, gave the man the money, +and urged expedition. The money was brought and paid, and Suaby +informed Sir Charles. + +But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry. He took a long time to pack; +and he was not ready till Vandeleur brought a note to him from Rolfe. + +Then Sir Charles came down. + +Suaby made Burdoch's keeper sign a paper to the effect that he had the +baronet in charge, and relieved Suaby of all further responsibility. + +Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. Suaby, and made him +promise to visit him at Huntercombe Hall. + +Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, and the fly +drove off. + +Sir Charles at that moment needed all his fortitude. The least mistake +or miscalculation on the part of his friends, and what might not be the +result to him? + +As the fly went slowly through the gate he saw on his right hand a +light carriage and pair moving up; but was it coming after him, or only +bringing visitors to the asylum? + +The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. It rolled and +rolled. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. He tried to look out of +the window to see if the carriage was following. + +One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. "Come, none of that, sir?" + +"You insolent scoundrel!" said Sir Charles. + +"Ay, ay," said the man; "we'll see about that when we get you home." + +Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive blackguard. + +He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over him. + +Just then they passed a little clump of fir-trees. + +In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number of men in crape +masks, stopped the horses, surrounded the carriage, and opened it with +brandishing of bludgeons and life-preservers, and pointing of guns. + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A BIG man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of ferocious oaths at +the keepers, and threatened to send them to hell that moment if they +did not instantly deliver up that gentleman. + +The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for mercy. + +"Hand him out here, you scoundrels!" + +"Yes! yes! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is the use?" + +"Hand down his luggage." + +It was done all in a flutter. + +"Now get in again; turn your horses' heads the other way, and don't +come back for an hour. You with your guns take stations in those trees, +and shoot them dead if they are back before their time." + +These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, and Burdoch's party +were glad to get off, and they drove away quickly in the direction +indicated. + +However, as soon as they got over their first surprise they began to +smell a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it was scarcely twenty minutes +when they came back. + +But meantime the supers were paid liberally among the fir-trees by +Vandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung their dummy guns into a +cornfield, dispersed in different directions, and left no trace. + +But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment he was recaptured +he and his luggage were whisked off in the other carriage, and, with +Rolfe and his secretary, dashed round the town, avoiding the main +street, to a railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit. +Not that they dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and a firm +determination to fight if necessary, and also three tongues to tell the +truth, instead of one. + +At one in the morning they were in London. They slept at Mr. Rolfe's +house; and before breakfast Mr. Rolfe's secretary was sent to secure a +couple of prize-fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till further +notice. They were furnished with a written paper explaining the case +briefly, and were instructed to hit first and talk afterward should a +recapture be attempted. Should a crowd collect, they were to produce +the letter. These measures were to provide against his recapture under +the statute, which allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken upon the old +certificates for fourteen days after his escape from confinement, but +for no longer. + +Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these. + +Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his wife and +child. The faithful pugilists followed at his heels in another cab. + +Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Rolfe knew Lady Bassett's address: it was +the medical man who had written: but that did not much matter; Sir +Charles was sure to learn his wife's address from Mr. Boddington. He +called on that gentleman at 17 Upper Gloucester Place. Mr. Boddington +had just taken his wife down to Margate for her health; had only been +gone half an hour. + +This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently Sir Charles must +wait that gentleman's return. He wrote a line, begging Mr. Boddington +to send him Lady Bassett's address in a cab immediately on his return. + +He told Mr. Rolfe this; and then for the first time let out that his +wife's not writing to him at the asylum had surprised and alarmed him; +he was on thorns. + +Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, and at breakfast +time Sir Charles had a note to say Lady Bassett was at 119 Gloucester +Place, Portman Square. + +Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and then dashed off +in a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place. + +There was a bill in the window, "To be let, furnished. Apply to Parker +& Ellis." + +He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked again. A lugubrious female +opened the door. + +"Lady Bassett?" + +"Don't live here, sir. House to be let." + +Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told him. + +Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mistaken; but he would +look at his address-book. He did, and said it was certainly 119 +Gloucester Place; "Perhaps she has left," said he. "She was very +healthy--an excellent patient. But I should not have advised her to +move for a day or two more." + +Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the agents, Parker & +Ellis. + +They said, Yes; the house was Lady Bassett's for a few months. They +were instructed to let it. + +"When did she leave? I am her husband, and we have missed each other +somehow." + +The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had brought the keys in her +carriage yesterday. + +Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance. + +"Did she give you no address?" + +"Yes, sir. Huntercombe Hall." + +"I mean no address in London?" + +"No, sir; none." + +Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, and all manner of +strange ideas came into his head. He did not know what to do, but he +could not bear to do nothing, so he drove to the _Times_ office and +advertised, requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to Mr. +Rolfe. + +At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe. + +That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by the +last post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett to +her husband. + + + +"119 Gloucester Place. + +"DARLING--The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for the +noise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy carriage. +Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journey +will be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you and +I were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soon +be again, I hope. + +"Your devoted wife. + +"BELLA BASSETT. + +"My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing." + + + +Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfe +persuaded him not. "And mind," said he, "the faithful pugilists must go +with you." + +The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letter +from Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positively +discharged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett. + +Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosom +friend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife. + +She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, and +when he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a +window opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and saw +his wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him. He +rushed upstairs, into the right room by some mighty instinct, and held +her, panting and crying for joy, in his arms. + +That moment almost compensated what each had suffered. + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +So full was the joy of this loving pair that, for a long time, they sat +rocking in each other's arms, and thought of nothing but their sorrows +past, and the sea of bliss they were floating on. + +But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. Swift to +interpret his every look, Lady Bassett rose, took two steps, came back +and printed a kiss on his forehead, and then went to a door and opened +it. + +"Mrs. Millar!" said she, with one of those tones by which these ladies +impregnate with meaning a word that has none at all; and then she came +back to her husband. + +Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a biggish bank of linen +and lace, with a little face in the middle. The good woman held it up +to Sir Charles, and he felt something novel stir inside him. He looked +at the little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, and a +good deal of curiosity; and then turned smiling to his wife. She had +watched him furtively but keenly, and her eyes were brimming over. He +kissed the little thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife's +hands, and kissed her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at baby +with him, hand in hand. It was a pretty picture. + +The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple women do when they +exhibit a treasure of this sort; she lifted the little mite slowly up +and down, and said, "Oh, you Beauty!" and then went off into various +inarticulate sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of the +new philosophers: they cannot have been invented after speech; that +would be retrogression; they must be the vocal remains of that hairy, +sharp-eared quadruped, our Progenitor, who by accident discovered +language, and so turned Biped, and went ahead of all the other hairy +quadrupeds, whose ears were too long or not sharp enough to stumble +upon language. + +Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett drew her husband a +little apart, and looking in his face with piteous wistfulness, said, +"You won't mind Richard Bassett and his baby now?" + +"Not I." + +"You will never have another fit while you live?" + +"I promise." + +"You will always be happy?" + +"I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear." + +"Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel!" And she pounced +on the mite, and kissed it far harder than Sir Charles had. Heaven +knows what these gentle creatures are so rough with their mouths to +children, but so it is. + +And now how can a mere male relate all the pretty childish things that +were done and said to baby, and of baby, before the inevitable +squalling began, and baby was taken away to be consoled by another of +his subjects. + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other, +to murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other. + +But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassett +plucked up courage and said, "Charles, I am not quite happy. There is +one thing wanting." And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed. +"I cannot nurse him." + +"Never mind," said Sir Charles kindly. + +"You forgive me?" + +"Forgive you, my poor girl! Why, is that a crime?" + +"It leads to so many things. You don't know what a plague a nurse is, +and makes one jealous." + +"Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is a little +peevish. Don't let us be ungrateful to Heaven. As for me, while you and +our child live, I am proof against much greater misfortunes than that." + +Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped. + +But it was renewed next morning in a more definite form. + +Sir Charles rose early; and in the pride and joy of his heart, and not +quite without an eye to triumphing over his mortal enemy and his cold +friends, sent a mounted messenger with orders to his servants to +prepare for his immediate reception, and to send out his landau and +four horses to the "Rose," at Staveleigh, half-way between Huntercombe +and the place where he now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself able +for the journey. + +After breakfast he asked her rather suddenly whether Mrs. Millar was +not rather an elderly woman to select for a nurse. "I thought people +got a young woman for that office." + +"Oh," said Lady Bassett, "why, Mrs. Millar is not _the_ nurse. Of +course nurse is young and healthy, and from the country, and the best I +could have in every way for baby. But yet--oh, Charles, I hope you will +not be angry--who do you think nurse is? It is Mary Gosport--Mary Wells +that was." + +Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and that together, and +said, "Why, she must have been playing the fool, then?" + +"Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman now, and her husband +gone to sea, and her child dead. Most wet-nurses have a child of their +own; and don't you think they must hate the stranger's child that parts +them from their own? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And the wet-nurse +is always a tyrant; and I thought, as this one has got into a habit of +obeying me, she might be more manageable; and then as to her having +been imprudent, I know many ladies who have been obliged to shut their +eyes a little. Why, consider, Charles, would good wives and good +mothers leave their own children to nurse a stranger's? Would their +husbands let them? And I thought," said she, piteously, "we were so +fortunate to get a young, healthy girl, imprudent but not vicious, +whose fault had been covered by marriage, and then so attached to us +both as she is, poor thing!" + +Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of mole-hills. "Why, my +dear Bella," said he, "after all, this is your department, not mine." + +"Yes, but unless I please you in every department there is no happiness +for me." + +"But you know you please me in everything; and the more I look into +anything, the wiser I always think you. You have chosen the best +wet-nurse possible. Send her to me." + +Lady Bassett hesitated. "You will be kind to her. You know the +consequence if anything happens to make her fret. Baby will suffer for +it." + +"Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she potentate till he is weaned. +Dress for the journey, my dear, and send nurse to me." + +Lady Bassett went into the next room, and after a long time Mary came +to Sir Charles with baby in her arms. + +Mary had lost for a time some of her ruddy color, but her skin was +clearer, and somehow her face was softened. She looked really a +beautiful and attractive young woman. + +She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good look at him. + +"Well, nurse," said he, cheerfully, "here we are back again, both of +us." + +"That we be, sir." And she showed her white teeth in a broad smile. +"La, sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. How well you do look, to be +sure!" + +"Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. You look pretty well +too; only a little pale; paler than Lady Bassett does." + +"I give my color to the child," said Mary, simply. + +She did not know she had said anything poetic; but Sir Charles was so +touched and pleased with her answer that he gave her a five-pound note +on the spot; and he said, "We'll bring your color back if beef and beer +and kindness can do it." + +"I ain't afeard o' that, sir; and I'll arn it. 'Tis a lovely boy, sir, +and your very image." + +Inspection followed; and something or other offended young master; he +began to cackle. But this nurse did not take him away, as Mrs. Millar +had. She just sat down with him and nursed him openly, with rustic +composure and simplicity. + +Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, and eyed the pair; for +all this was a new world of feeling to him. His paid servant seemed to +him to be playing the mother to his child. Somehow it gave him a +strange twinge, a sort of vicarious jealousy: he felt for his Bella. +But I think his own paternal pride, in all its freshness, was hurt a +little too. + +At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out of the room, with +a hint to Mary that she must wrap herself up, for it would be an open +carriage-- + +"Your own carriage, sir, and horses?" + +"Certainly." + +"And do all the folk know as we are coming?" + +Sir Charles laughed. "Most likely. Gossip is not dead at Huntercombe, I +dare say." + +Nurse's black eyes flashed. "All the village will be out. I hope _he_ +will see us ride in, the black-hearted villain!" + +Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into that topic; he went +about his business. + + + +Lady Bassett's carriage, duly packed, came round, and Lady Bassett was +ready soon afterward; so was Mrs. Millar; so was baby, imbedded now in +a nest of lawn and lace and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. Lady +Bassett explained _sotto voce_ to her husband, "Just at the last moment +she was seized with a desire to wear a silk gown I gave her. I argued +with her, but she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very hard +upon _you,_ dear." + +Her face and voice were so piteous that Sir Charles burst out laughing. + +"We must take the bitter along with the sweet. Don't you think the +sweet rather predominates at present?" + +Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. "My darling is happy +now; trifles cannot put him out." + +"I doubt if anything could shake me while I have you and our child. As +for that jade keeping us all waiting while she dons silk attire, it is +simply delicious. I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!" + +Mrs. Gosport appeared at last in a purple silk gown, and marched to the +carriage without the slightest sign of the discomfort she really felt; +but that was no wonder, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walk +not only smiling but jauntily, though dead lame on stilts, as you may +see any day in Regent Street. + +Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby and his attendants in +first, then Lady Bassett, and got in last himself. + +Before they had gone a mile Nurse No. 1 handed the child over to Nurse +No. 2 with a lofty condescension, as who should say, "You suffice for +porterage; I, the superior artist, reserve myself for emergencies." No. +2 received the invaluable bundle with meek complacency. + +By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her position. + +"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett, kindly. "Is the dress +too tight?" + +"No, no, my lady," said Mary, sharply; "the gownd's all right." And +then she was quiet a little. + +But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whispered Sir Charles, "I +think she wants to sit forward: _may_ I?" + +"Certainly not. I'll change with her. Here, Mary, try this side. We +shall have more room in the landau; it is double, with wide seats." + +Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of the window. +Indeed, she was quiet for nearly half an hour. At the expiration of +that period the fit took her again. She beckoned haughtily for baby, +"which did come at her command," as the song says. She got tired of +baby, or something, and handed him back again. + +Presently she was discovered to be crying. + +General consternation! Universal but vague consolation! + +Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. Millar looked back +assent. Lady Bassett assumed the command, and took off Mary's shawl. + +_"Yes,"_ said she to Mrs. Millar. "Now, Mary, be good; it _is_ too +tight." + +Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty effort, while Lady +Bassett attacked the fastenings, and, with infinite difficulty, they +unhooked three bottom hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, and +the awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can command, and +how savagely abuse it to maltreat nature. + +Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh of relief told the +truth, which the lying tongue had denied, as it always does whenever +the same question is put. + +The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they entered the town +of Staveleigh. + +Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, and took the child +again. He was her banner in all public places. + +When they came up to the inn they were greeted with loud hurrahs. It +was market-day. The town was full of Sir Charles's tenants and other +farmers. His return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty had +resolved to ride with him into Huntercombe. + +When five or six, all shouting together, intimated this to Sir Charles, +he sent one of his people to order the butchers out to Huntercombe with +joints a score, and then to gallop on with a note to his housekeeper +and butler. "For those that ride so far with me must sup with me," said +he; a sentiment that was much approved. + +He took Lady Bassett and the women upstairs and rested them about an +hour; and then they started for Huntercombe, followed by some thirty +farmers and a dozen towns-people, who had a mind for a lark and to sup +at Huntercombe Hall for once. + +The ride was delightful; the carriage bowled swiftly along over a +smooth road, with often turf at the side; and that enabled the young +farmers to canter alongside without dusting the carriage party. Every +man on horseback they overtook joined them; some they met turned back +with them, and these were rewarded with loud cheers. Every eye in the +carriage glittered, and every cheek was more or less flushed by this +uproarious sympathy so gallantly shown, and the very thunder of so many +horses' feet, each carrying a friend, was very exciting and glorious. +Why, before they got to the village they had fourscore horsemen at +their backs. + +As they got close to the village Mary Gosport held out her arms for +young master: this was not the time to forego her importance. + +The church-bells rang out a clashing peal, the cavalcade clattered into +the village. Everybody was out to cheer, and at sight of baby the +women's voices were as loud as the men's. Old pensioners of the house +were out bareheaded; one, with hair white as snow, was down on his +knees praying a blessing on them. + +Lady Bassett began to cry softly; Sir Charles, a little pale, but firm +as a rock; both bowing right and left, like royal personages; and well +they might; every house in the village belonged to them but one. + +On approaching that one Mary Gosport turned her head round, and shot a. +glance round out of the tail of her eye. Ay, there was Richard Bassett, +pale and gloomy, half-hid behind a tree at his gate: but Hate's quick +eye discerned him: at the moment of passing she suddenly lifted the +child high, and showed it him, pretending to show it to the crowd: but +her eye told the tale; for, with that act of fierce hatred and cunning +triumph, those black orbs shot a colored gleam like a furious +leopardess's. + +A roar of cheers burst from the crowd at that inspired gesture of a +woman, whose face and eyes seemed on fire: Lady Bassett turned pale. + +The next moment they passed their own gate, and dashed up to the hall +steps of Huntercombe. + +Sir Charles sent Lady Bassett to her room for the night. She walked +through a row of ducking servants, bowing and smiling like a gentle +goddess. + +Mary Gosport, afraid to march in a long dress with the child, for fear +of accidents, handed him superbly to Millar and strutted haughtily +after her mistress, nodding patronage. Her follower, the meek Millar, +stopped often to show the heir right and left, with simple geniality +and kindness. + +Sir Charles stood on the hall steps, and invited all to come in and +take pot-luck. + +Already spits were turning before great fires; a rump of beef, legs of +pork, and pease-puddings boiling in one copper; turkeys and fowls in +another; joints and pies baking in the great brick ovens; barrels of +beer on tap, and magnums of champagne and port marching steadily up +from the cellars, and forming in line and square upon sideboards and +tables. + +Supper was laid in the hall, the dining-room, the drawing-room, and the +great kitchen. + +Poor villagers trickled in: no man or woman was denied; it was open +house that night, as it had been four hundred years ago. + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +WHEN Sharpe's clerk retired, after serving that writ on Bassett, +Bassett went to Wheeler and treated it as a jest. But Wheeler looked +puzzled, and Bassett himself, on second thoughts, said he should like +advice of counsel. Accordingly they both went up to London to a +solicitor, and obtained an interview with a counsel learned in the law. +He heard their story, and said, "The question is, can you convince a +jury he was insane at the time?" + +"But he can't get into court," said Bassett. "I won't let him." + +"Oh, the court will make you produce him." + +"But I thought an insane person was civiliter mortuus, and couldn't +sue." + +"So he is; but this man is not insane in law. Shutting up a man on +certificates is merely a preliminary step to a fair trial by his peers +whether he is insane or not. Take the parallel case of a felon. A +magistrate commits him for trial, and generally on better evidence than +medical certificates; but that does not make the man a felon, or +disentitle him to a trial by his peers; on the contrary, it entitles +him to a trial, and he could get Parliament to interfere if he was not +brought to trial. This plaintiff simply does what, he will say, you +ought to have done; he tries himself; if he tries you at the same time, +that is your fault. If he is insane now, fight. If he is not, I advise +you to discharge him on the instant, and then compound." + +Wheeler said he was afraid the plaintiff was too vindictive to come to +terms. + +"Well, then, you can show you discharged him the moment you had reason +to think he was cured, and you must prove he was insane when you +incarcerated him; but I warn you it will be uphill work if he is sane +now; the jury will be apt to go by what they see." + +Bassett and Wheeler retired; the latter did not presume to differ; but +Bassett was dissatisfied and irritated. + +"That fellow would only see the plaintiff's side," said he. "The fool +forgets there is an Act of Parliament, and that we have complied with +its provisions to a T." + +"Then why did you not ask his construction of the Act?" suggested +Wheeler. + +"Because I don't want his construction. I've read it, and it is plain +enough to anybody but a fool. Well, I have consulted counsel, to please +you; and now I'll go my own way, to please myself." + +He went to Burdoch, and struck a bargain, and Sir Charles was to be +shifted to Burdoch's asylum, and nobody allowed to see him there, etc., +etc.; the old system, in short, than which no better has as yet been +devised for perpetuating, or even causing, mental aberration. + +Rolfe baffled this, as described, and Bassett was literally stunned. He +now saw that Sir Charles had an ally full of resources and resolution. +Who could it be? He began to tremble. He complained to the police, and +set them to discover who had thus openly and audaciously violated the +Act of Parliament, and then he went and threatened Dr. Suaby. + +But Rolfe and Sir Charles, who loved Suaby as he deserved, had provided +against that; they had not let the doctor into their secret. He +therefore said, with perfect truth, that he had no hand in the matter, +and that Sir Charles, being bound upon his honor not to escape from +Bellevue, would be in the asylum still if Mr. Bassett had not taken him +out, and invoked brute force, in the shape of Burdoch. "Well, sir," +said he, "it seems they have shown you two can play at that game." And +so bade him good afternoon very civilly. + +Bassett went home sickened. He remained sullen and torpid for a day or +two; then he wrote to Burdoch to send to London and try and recapture +Sir Charles. + +But next day he revoked his instructions, for be got a letter from the +Commissioners of Lunacy, announcing the authoritative discharge of Sir +Charles, on the strong representation of Dr. Suaby and other competent +persons. + +That settled the matter, and the poor cousin had kept the rich cousin +three months at his own expense, with no solid advantage, but the +prospect of a lawsuit. + +Sharpe, spurred by Rolfe, gave him no breathing time. With the utmost +expedition the Declaration in Bassett _v._ Bassett followed the writ. + +It was short, simple, and in three counts. + +"For violently seizing and confining the plaintiff in a certain place, +on a false pretense that he was insane. + +"For detaining him in spite of evidence that he was not insane. + +"For endeavoring to remove him to another place, with a certain +sinister motive there specified. + +"By which several acts the plaintiff had suffered in his health and his +worldly affairs, and had endured great agony of mind." + +And the plaintiff claimed damages, ten thousand pounds. + +Bassett sent over for his friend Wheeler, and showed him the new +document with no little consternation. + +But their discussion of it was speedily interrupted by the clashing of +triumphant bells and distant shouting. + +They ran out to see what it was. Bassett, half suspecting, hung back; +but Mary Gosport's keen eye detected him, and she held up the heir to +him, with hate and triumph blazing in her face. + +He crept into his own house and sank into a chair foudroye. + +Wheeler, however, roused him to a necessary effort, and next day they +took the Declaration to counsel, to settle their defense in due form. + +"What is this?" said the learned gentleman. "Three counts! Why, I +advised you to discharge him at once." + +"Yes," said Wheeler, "and excellent advice it was. But my client--" + +"Preferred to go his own road. And now I am to cure the error I did +what I could to prevent." + +"I dare say, sir, it is not the first time in your experience." + +"Not by a great many. Clients, in general, have a great contempt for +the notion that prevention is better than cure." + +"He can't hurt me," said Bassett, impatiently. "He was separately +examined by two doctors, and all the provisions of the statute exactly +complied with." + +"But that is no defense to this plaint. The statute forbids you to +imprison an insane person without certain precautions; but it does not +give you a right, under any circumstances, to imprison a sane man. That +was decided in Butcher _v. _Butcher. The defense you rely on was +pleaded as a second plea, and the plaintiff demurred to it directly. +The question was argued before the full court, and the judges, led by +the first lawyer of the age, decided unanimously that the provisions of +the statute did not affect sane Englishmen and their rights under the +common law. They ordered the plea to be struck off the record, and the +case was reduced to a simple issue of sane or insane. Butcher _v._ +Butcher governs all these cases. Can you prove him insane? If not, you +had better compound on any terms. In Butcher's case the jury gave 3,000 +pounds, and the plaintiff was a man of very inferior position to Sir +Charles Bassett. Besides, the defendant, Butcher, had not persisted +against evidence, as you have. They will award 5,000 pounds at least in +this case." + +He took down a volume of reports, and showed them the case he had +cited; and, on reading the unanimous decision of the judges, and the +learning by which they were supported, Wheeler said at once: "Mr. +Bassett, we might as well try to knock down St. Paul's with our heads +as to go against this decision." + +They then settled to put in a single plea, that Sir Charles was insane +at the time of his capture. + +This done, to gain time, Wheeler called on Sharpe, and, after several +conferences, got the case compounded by an apology, a solemn +retractation in writing, and the payment of four thousand pounds; his +counsel assured him his client was very lucky to get off so cheap. + +Bassett paid the money, with the assistance of his wife's father: but +it was a sickener; it broke his spirit, and even injured his health for +some time. + +Sir Charles improved the village with the money, and gave a copy-hold +tenement to each of the men Bassett had got imprisoned. So they and +their sons and their grandsons lived rent free--no, now I think of it, +they had to pay four pence a year to the Lord of the Manor. + + + +Defeated at every point, and at last punished severely, Richard Bassett +fell into a deep dejection and solitary brooding of a sort very +dangerous to the reason. He would not go out-of-doors to give his +enemies a triumph. He used to sit by the fire and mutter, "Blow upon +blow, blow upon blow. My poor boy will never be lord of Huntercombe +now!" and so on. + +Wheeler pitied him, but could not rouse him. At last a person for whose +narrow attainments and simplicity he had a profound, though, to do him +justice, a civil contempt, ventured to his rescue. Mrs. Bassett went +crying to her father, and told him she feared the worst if Richard's +mind could not be diverted from the Huntercombe estate and his hatred +of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, which had been the great misfortune of +her life and of his own, but nothing would ever eradicate it. Richard +had great abilities; was a linguist, a wonderful accountant; could her +dear father find him some profitable employment to divert his thoughts? + +"What! all in a moment?" said the old man. "Then I shall have to _buy_ +it; and if I go on like this I shall not have much to leave you." + +Having delivered this objection, he went up to London, and, having many +friends in the City, and laying himself open to proposals, he got scent +at last of a new insurance company that proposed also to deal in +reversions, especially to entailed estates. By prompt purchase of +shares in Bassett's name, and introducing Bassett himself, who, by +special study, had a vast acquaintance with entailed estates, and a +genius for arithmetical calculation, he managed somehow to get him into +the direction, with a stipend, and a commission on all business he +might introduce to the office. + +Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time between London and +the country. + +Wheeler worked with him on a share of commission, and they made some +money between them. + +After the bitter lesson he had received Bassett vowed to himself he +never would attack Sir Charles again unless he was sure of victory. For +all this he hated him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them to +the death. + +He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor said a word; but in +London he employed a private inquirer to find out where Lady Bassett +had lived at the time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman had +visited her. + +The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, comparing his +advertisements with his performance, dismissed him for a humbug. + +But the office brought him into contact with a great many medical men, +one after another. He used to say to each stranger, with an insidious +smile, "I think you once attended my cousin--Lady Bassett." + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +SIR CHARLES and Lady Bassett, relieved of their cousin's active enmity, +led a quiet life, and one that no longer furnished striking incidents. + +But dramatic incident is not everything: character and feeling show +themselves in things that will not make pictures. Now it was precisely +during this reposeful period that three personages of this story +exhibited fresh traits of feeling, and also of character. + +To begin with Sir Charles Bassett. He came back from the asylum much +altered in body and mind. Stopping his cigars had improved his stomach; +working in the garden had increased his muscular power, and his cheeks +were healthy, and a little sunburned, instead of sallow. His mind was +also improved: contemplation of insane persons had set him by a natural +recoil to study self-control. He had returned a philosopher. No small +thing could irritate him now. So far his character was elevated. + +Lady Bassett was much the same as before, except a certain +restlessness. She wanted to be told every day, or twice a day, that her +husband was happy; and, although he was visibly so, yet, as he was +quiet over it, she used to be always asking him if he was happy. This +the reader must interpret as he pleases. + +Mary Gosport gave herself airs. Respectful to her master and mistress, +but not so tolerant of chaff in the kitchen as she used to be. Made an +example of one girl, who threw a doubt on her marriage. Complained to +Lady Bassett, affected to fret, and the girl was dismissed. + +She turned singer. She had always sung psalms in church, but never a +profane note in the house. Now she took to singing over her nursling; +she had a voice of prodigious power and mellowness, and, provided she +was not asked, would sing lullabies and nursery rhymes from another +county that ravished the hearer. Horsemen have been known to stop in +the road to hear her sing through an open window of Huntercombe, two +hundred yards off. + +Old Mr. Meyrick, a farmer well-to-do, fascinated by Mary Gosport's +singing, asked her to be his housekeeper when she should have done +nursing her charge. + +She laughed in his face. + +A fanatic who was staying with Sir Charles Bassett offered her three +years' education in Do, Ra, Mi, Fa, preparatory to singing at the +opera. + +Declined without thanks. + +Mr. Drake, after hovering shyly, at last found courage to reproach her +for deserting him and marrying a sailor. + +"Teach you not to shilly-shally," said she. "Beauty won't go a-begging. +Mind you look sharper next time." + +This dialogue, being held in the kitchen, gave the women some amusement +at the young farmer's expense. + +One day Mr. Richard Bassett, from motives of pure affection no doubt, +not curiosity, desired mightily to inspect Mr. Bassett, aged eight +months and two days. + +So, in his usual wily way, he wrote to Mrs. Gosport, asking her, for +old acquaintance' sake, to meet him in the meadow at the end of the +lawn. This meadow belonged to Sir Charles, but Richard Bassett had a +right of way through it, and could step into it by a postern, as Mary +could by an iron gate. + +He asked her to come at eleven o'clock, because at that hour he +observed she walked on the lawn with her charge. + +Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. Bassett. + +Richard was very polite; she cold, taciturn, observant. + +At last he said, "But where's the little heir?" + +She flew at him directly. "It is him you wanted, not me. Did you think +I'd bring him here--for you to kill him?" + +"Come, I say." + +"Ay, you'd kill him if you had a chance. But you never shall. Or if you +didn't kill him, you'd cast the evil-eye on him, for you are well known +to have the evil-eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lord +of these here manors when thou is gone to hell, thou villain." + +Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest thing he could--put +his hands in his pockets, and walked into his own premises, followed, +however, by Mary Gosport, who stormed at him till he shut his postern +in her face. + +She stood there trembling for a little while, then walked away, crying. + +But having a mind like running water, she was soon seated on a garden +chair, singing over her nursling like a mavis: she had delivered him to +Millar while she went to speak her mind to her old lover. + +As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so turned every thing +one way. To be sure, as long as the woman's glaring eyes and face +distorted by passion were before him, he interpreted her words simply; +but when he thought the matter over he said to himself, "The evil-eye! +That is all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett's secrets; and I am not +to see young master: some day I shall know the reason why." + + + +Sir Charles Bassett now belonged to the tribe of clucking cocks quite +as much as his cousin had ever done; only Sir Charles had the good +taste to confine his clucks to his own first-floor. Here, to be sure, +he richly indemnified himself for his self-denial abroad. He sat for +hours at a time watching the boy on the ground at his knee, or in his +nurse's arms. + +And while he watched the infant with undisguised delight, Lady Bassett +would watch _him_ with a sort of furtive and timid complacency. + +Yet at times she suffered from twinges of jealousy--a new complaint +with her. + +I think I have mentioned that Sir Charles, at first, was annoyed at +seeing his son and heir nursed by a woman of low condition. Well, he +got over that feeling by degrees, and, as soon as he did get over it, +his sentiments took quite an opposite turn. A woman for whom he did +very little, in his opinion--since what, in Heaven's name, were a +servant's wages?--he saw that woman do something great for him; saw her +nourish his son and heir from her own veins; the child had no other +nurture; yet the father saw him bloom and thrive, and grow +surprisingly. + +A weak observer, or a less enthusiastic parent, might have overlooked +all this; but Sir Charles had naturally an observant eye and an +analytical mind, and this had been suddenly but effectually developed +by the asylum and his correspondence with Rolfe. + +He watched the nurse, then, and her maternal acts with a curious and +grateful eye, and a certain reverence for her power. + +He observed, too, that his child reacted on the woman: she had never +sung in the house before; now she sang ravishingly--sang, in low, +mellow, yet sonorous notes, some ditties that had lulled mediaeval +barons in their cradles. + +And what had made her vocal made her beautiful at times. + +Before, she had appeared to him a handsome girl, with the hardish look +of the lower classes; but now, when she sat in a sunny window, and +lowered her black lashes on her nursling, with the mixed and delicious +smile of an exuberant nurse relieving and relieved, she was soft, +poetical, sculptorial, maternal, womanly. + +This species of contemplation, though half philosophical, half +paternal, and quite innocent, gave Lady Bassett some severe pangs. + +She hid them, however; only she bided her time, and then suggested the +propriety of weaning baby. + +But Mrs. Gosport got Sir Charles's ear, and told him what magnificent +children they reared in her village by not weaning infants till they +were eighteen months old or so. + +By this means, and by crying to Lady Bassett, and representing her +desolate condition with a husband at sea, she obtained a reprieve, +coupled, however, with a good-humored assurance from Sir Charles that +she was the greatest baby of the two. + +When the inevitable hour approached that was to dethrone her she took +to reading the papers, and one day she read of a disastrous wreck, the +_Carbrea Castle_--only seven saved out of a crew of twenty-three. She +read the details carefully, and two days afterward she received a +letter written by a shipmate of Mr. Gosport's, in a handwriting not +very unlike her own, relating the sad wreck of the _Carbrea Castle,_ +and the loss of several good sailors, James Gosport for one. + +Then the house was filled with the wailing and weeping of the bereaved +widow; and at last came consolers and raised doubts; but then somebody +remembered to have seen the loss of that very ship in the paper. The +paper was found, and the fatal truth was at once established. + +Upon this Mr. Bassett was weaned as quickly as possible, and the widow +clothed in black at Lady Bassett's expense, and everything in reason +done to pet her and console her. + +But she cried bitterly, and said she would throw herself into the sea +and follow her husband. + +Huntercombe was nowhere near the coast. + +At last, however, she relented, and concluded to remain on earth as +dry-nurse to Mr. Bassett. + +Sir Charles did not approve this: it seemed unreasonable to turn a +wet-nurse into a dry-nurse when that office was already occupied by a +person her senior and more experienced. + +Lady Bassett agreed with him, but shrugged her shoulders and said, "Two +nurses will not hurt, and I suspect it will not be for long. Mary does +not feel her husband's loss one bit." + +"Surely you are mistaken. She howls loud enough." + +"Too loud--much," said Lady Bassett, dryly. + +Her perspicuity was not deceived. In a very short time Mr. Meyrick, +unable to get her for his housekeeper, offered her marriage. + +"What!" said she, "and James Gosport not dead a month?" + +"Say the word now, and take your own time," said he. + +"Well, I might do worse," said she. + +About six weeks after this Drake came about her, and in tender tones of +consolation suggested that it is much better for a pretty girl to marry +one who plows the land than one who plows the sea. + +"That is true," said Mary, with a sigh; "I have found it to my sorrow." + +After this Drake played a bit with her, and then relented, and one +evening offered her marriage, expecting her to jump eagerly at his +offer. + +"You be too late, young man," said she, coolly; "I'm bespoke." + +"Doan't ye say that! How can ye be bespoke? Why, t'other hain't been +dead four months yet." + +"What o' that? This one spoke for me within a week. Why, our banns are +to be cried to-morrow; come to church and hear 'em; that will learn ye +not to shilly-shally so next time." + +"Next time!" cried Drake, half blubbering; then, with a sudden roar, +"what, be you coming to market again, arter this?" + +"Like enough: he is a deal older than I be. 'Tis Mr. Meyrick, if ye +must know." + +Now Mr. Meyrick was well-to-do, and so Drake was taken aback. + +"Mr. Meyrick!" said he, and turned suddenly respectful. + +But presently a view of a rich widow flitted before his eye. + +"Well," said he, "you shan't throw it in my teeth again as I speak too +late. I ask you now, and no time lost." + +"What! am I to stop my banns, and jilt Farmer Meyrick for _thee?"_ + +"Nay, nay. But I mean I'll marry you, if you'll marry me, as soon as +ever the breath is out of that dall'd old hunks's body." + +"Well, well, Will Drake," said Mary, gravely, "if I do outlive this +one--and you bain't married long afore--and if you keeps in the same +mind as you be now--and lets me know it in good time--I'll see about +it." + +She gave a flounce that made her petticoats whisk like a mare's tail, +and off to the kitchen, where she related the dialogue with an +appropriate reflection, the company containing several of either sex. +"Dilly-Dally and Shilly-Shally, they belongs to us as women be. I hate +and despise a man as can't make up his mind in half a minnut." + +So the widow Gosport became Mrs. Meyrick, and lived in a farmhouse not +quite a mile from the Hall. + +She used often to come to the Hall, and take a peep at her lamb: this +was the name she gave Mr. Bassett long after he had ceased to be a +child. + + + +About four years after the triumphant return to Huntercombe, Lady +Bassett conceived a sudden coldness toward the little boy, though he +was universally admired. + +She concealed this sentiment from Sir Charles, but not from the female +servants: and, from one to another, at last it came round to Sir +Charles. He disbelieved it utterly at first; but, the hint having been +given him, he paid attention, and discovered there was, at all events, +some truth in it. + +He awaited his opportunity and remonstrated: "My dear Bella, am I +mistaken, or do I really observe a falling off in your tenderness for +your child?" + +Lady Bassett looked this way and that, as if she meditated flight, but +at last she resigned herself, and said, "Yes, dear Charles; my heart is +quite cold to him." + +"Good Heavens, Bella! But why? Is not this the same little angel that +came to our help in trouble, that comforted me even before his birth, +when my mind was morbid, to say the least?" + +"I suppose he is the same," said she, in a tone impossible to convey by +description of mine. + +"That is a strange answer." + +"If he is, _I_ am changed." And this she said doggedly and unlike +herself. + +"What!" said Sir Charles, very gravely, and with a sort of awe: "can a +woman withdraw her affection from her child, her innocent child? If so, +my turn may come next." + +"Oh, Charles! Charles!" and the tears began to well. + +"Why, who can be secure after this? What is so stable as a mother's +love? If that is not rooted too deep for gusts of caprice to blow it +away, in Heaven's name, what is?" + +No answer to that but tears. + +Sir Charles looked at her very long, attentively, and seriously, and +said not another syllable. + +But his dropping so suddenly a subject of this importance was rather +suspicious, and Lady Bassett was too shrewd not to see that. + +They watched each other. + +But with this difference: Sir Charles could not conceal his anxiety, +whereas the lady appeared quite tranquil. + +One day Sir Charles said, cheerfully, "Who do you think dines here +to-morrow, and stays all night? Dr. Suaby." + +"By invitation, dear?" asked Lady Bassett, quietly. + +Sir Charles colored a little, and said, quietly, "Yes." + +Lady Bassett made no remark, and it was impossible to tell by her face +whether the visit was agreeable or not. + +Some time afterward, however, she said, "Whom shall I ask to meet Dr. +Suaby?" + +"Nobody, for Heaven's sake!" + +"Will not that be dull for him?" + +"I hope not." + +"You will have plenty to say to him, eh, darling?" + +"We never yet lacked topics. Whether or no, his is a mind I choose to +drink neat." + +"Drink him neat?" + +"Undiluted with rural minds." + +"Oh!" + +She uttered that monosyllable very dryly, and said no more. + +Dr. Suaby came next day, and dined with them, and Lady Bassett was +charming; but rather earlier than usual she said, "Now I am sure you +and Dr. Suaby must have many things to talk about," and retired, +casting back an arch, and almost a cunning smile. + +The door closed on her, the smile fled, and a somber look of care and +suffering took its place. + +Sir Charles entered at once on what was next his heart, told Dr. Suaby +he was in some anxiety, and asked him if he had observed anything in +Lady Bassett. + +"Nothing new," said Dr. Suaby; "charming as ever." + +Then Sir Charles confided to Dr. Suaby, in terms of deep feeling and +anxiety, what I have coldly told the reader. + +Dr. Suaby looked a little grave, and took time to think before he +spoke. + +At last he delivered an opinion, of which this is the substance, though +not the exact words. + +"It is sudden and unnatural, and I cannot say it does not partake of +mental aberration. If the patient was a man I should fear the most +serious results; but here we have to take into account the patient's +sex, her nature, and her present condition. Lady Bassett has always +appeared to me a very remarkable woman. She has no mediocrity in +anything; understanding keen, perception wonderfully swift, heart large +and sensitive, nerves high strung, sensibilities acute. A person of her +sex, tuned so high as this, is always subject, more or less, to +hysteria. It is controlled by her intelligence and spirit; but she is +now, for the time being, in a physical condition that has often +deranged less sensitive women than she is. I believe this about the boy +to be a hysterical delusion, which will pass away when her next child +is born. That is to say, she will probably ignore her first-born, and +everything else, for a time; but these caprices, springing in reality +from the body rather than the mind, cannot endure forever. When she has +several grown-up children the first-born will be the favorite. It comes +to that at last, my good friend." + +"These are the words of wisdom," said Sir Charles; "God bless you for +them!" + +After a while he said, "Then what you advise is simply--patience?" + +"No, I don't say that. With such a large house as this, and your +resources, you might easily separate them before the delusion grows any +farther. Why risk a calamity?" + +"A calamity?" and Sir Charles began to tremble. + +"She is only cold to the child as yet. She might go farther, and fancy +she hated it. _Obsta principiis:_ that is my motto. Not that I really +think, for a moment, the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind to +control her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a chance?" + +"I will not run the shadow of a chance," said Sir Charles, resolutely; +"let us come upstairs: my decision is taken." + +The very next day Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, and asked if he +could come to any arrangement with her to lodge Mr. Bassett and his +nurse under her roof. "The boy wants change of air," said he. + +Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all terms. "No," said +she, "the child I have suckled shall never pay me for his lodging. Why +should he, sir, when I'd pay _you_ to let him come, if I wasn't afeard +of offending you?" + +Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentleman of tact, said, +"You are very good: well, then, I must remain your debtor for the +present." + +He then took his leave, but she walked with him a few yards, just as +far as the wicket, gate that separated her little front garden from the +high-road. + +"I hope," said she, "my lady will come and see me when my lamb is with +me; a sight of her would be good for sore eyes. She have never been +here but once, and then she did not get out of her carriage." + +"Humph!" said Sir Charles, apologetically; "she seldom goes out now; +you understand." + +"Oh, I've heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for her; for my lady +has been a good friend to me, sir, and if you will believe me, I often +sets here and longs for a sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and her +hair like sunshine, that I've had in my hand so often. Well, sir, I +hope it will be a girl this time, a little girl with golden hair; +that's what I wants this time. They'll be the prettiest pair in +England." + +"With all my heart," said Sir Charles; "girl or boy, I don't care +which; but I'd give a few thousands if it was here, and the mother +safe." + +He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feelings of his heart to +a farmer's wife. To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boy +off all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he had done. + +She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what she had done. + +He soothed her, and said she was not to blarne at all; and she must not +blame him either. He had done it for the best. + +"After all, you are the master," said she, submissively. + +"I am," said he, "and men will be tyrants, you know." + +Then she flung her arm round her tyrant's neck, and there was an end of +the discussion. + +One day he inquired for her, and heard, to his no small satisfaction, +she had driven to Mrs. Meyrick's, with a box of things for Mr. Bassett. +She stayed at the farmhouse all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he had +done the right thing. + +Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference between a nursling +and a rampageous little boy. + +Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, vigorous, active, +restless, and, unfortunately, as strong on his pins as most boys of +six. It took two women to look after him, and smart ones too, so +swiftly did he dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. +Meyrick simplified matters in some degree by locking the large gate, +and even the small wicket, and ordering all the farm people and +milkmaids to keep an eye on him, and bring him straight to her if he +should stray, for he seemed to hate in-doors. Never was such a boy. + +Nevertheless, such as had not the care of him admired the child for his +beauty and his assurance. He seemed to regard the whole human race as +one family, of which he was the rising head. The moment he caught sight +of a human being he dashed at it and into conversation by one unbroken +movement. + +Now children in general are too apt to hide their intellectual +treasures from strangers by shyness. + +One day this ready converser was standing on the steps of the house, +when a gentleman came to the wicket gate, and looked over into the +garden. + +Young master darted to the gate directly, and getting his foot on the +lowest bar and his hands on the spikes, gave tongue. + +"Who are you? _I'm_ Mr. Bassett. I don't live here; I'm only staying. +My home is Huncom Hall. I'm to have it for myself when papa dies. I +didn't know dat till I come here. How old are you? I'm half past +four--" + +A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was clutched up by Mrs. +Meyrick, who snatched him away with a wild glance of terror and +defiance, and bore him swiftly into the house, with words ringing in +her ears that cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she could +punish. She sat down on a bench, flung young master across her knee in +a minute, and bestowed such a smacking on him as far transcended his +wildest dreams of the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm. + +The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with were these: + +"Too late! I've SEEN THE PARSON'S BRAT." + + + +Richard Bassett mounted his horse and rode over to Wheeler, for he +could no longer wheedle the man of law over to Highmore, and I will +very briefly state why. + +1st. About three years ago an old lady, one of his few clients, left +him three thousand pounds, just reward of a very little law and a vast +deal of gossip. + +2d. The head solicitor of the place got old and wanted a partner. +Wheeler bought himself in, and thenceforth took his share of a good +business, and by his energy enlarged it, though he never could found +one for himself. + +3d. He married a wife. + +4th. She was a pretty woman, and blessed with jealousy of a just and +impartial nature: she was equally jealous of women, men, books, +business--anything that took her husband from her. + +No more sleeping out at Highmore; no more protracted potations; no more +bachelor tricks for Wheeler. He still valued his old client and +welcomed him; but the venue was changed, so to speak. + +Richard Bassett was kept waiting in the outer office; but when he did +get in he easily prevailed on Wheeler to send the next client or two to +his partner, and give him a full hearing. + +Then he opened his business. "Well," said he, "I've seen him at last!" + +"Seen him? seen whom?" + +"The boy they have set up to rob my boy of the estate. I've seen him, +Wheeler, seen him close; and HE'S AS BLACK AS MY HAT." + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +WHEELER, instead of being thunder-stricken, said quietly, "Oh, is he? +Well?" + +"Sir Charles is lighter than I am: Lady Bassett has a skin like satin, +and red hair." + +"Red! say auburn gilt. I never saw such lovely hair." + +"Well," said Richard, impatiently, "then the boy has eyes like sloes, +and a brown skin, like an Italian, and black hair almost; it will be +quite." + +"Well," said Wheeler, "it is not so very uncommon for a dark child to +be born of fair parents, or _vice versa._ I once saw an urchin that was +like neither father nor mother, but the image of his father's +grandfather, that died eighty years before he was born. They used to +hold him up to the portrait." + +Said Bassett, "Will you admit that it is uncommon?" + +"Not so uncommon as for a high-bred lady, living in the country, and +adored by her husband, to trifle with her marriage vow, for that is +what you are driving at." + +"Then we have to decide between two improbabilities: will you grant me +that, Mr. Wheeler?" + +"Yes." + +"Then suppose I can prove fact upon fact, and coincidence upon +coincidence, all tending one way! Are you so prejudiced that nothing +will convince you?" + +"No. But it will take a great deal: that lady's face is full of purity, +and she fought us like one who loved her husband." + +_"Fronti nulla fides:_ and as for her fighting, her infidelity was the +weapon she defeated us with. Will you hear me?" + +"Yes, yes; but pray stick to facts, and not conjectures." + +"Then don't interrupt me with childish arguments: + +_"Fact 1._--Both reputed parents fair; the boy as black as the ace of +spades. + +_"Fact 2._--A handsome young fellow was always buzzing about her +ladyship, and he was a parson, and ladies are remarkably fond of +parsons. + +_"Fact 3._--This parson was of Italian breed, dark, like the boy. + +_"Fact 4._--This dark young man left Huntercombe one week, and my lady +left it the next, and they were both in the city of Bath at one time. + +_"Fact 5._--The lady went from Bath to London. The dark young man went +from Bath to London." + +"None of this is new to me," said Wheeler, quietly. + +"No; but it is the rule, in estimating coincidences, that each fresh +one multiplies the value of the others. Now the boy looking so Italian +is a new coincidence, and so is what I am going to tell you--at last I +have found the medical man who attended Lady Bassett in London." + +"Ah!" + +"Yes, sir; and I have learned _Fact 6._--Her ladyship rented a house, +but hired no servants, and engaged no nurse. She had no attendant but a +lady's maid, no servant but a sort of charwoman. + +_"Fact 7._--She dismissed this doctor unusually soon, and gave him a +very large fee. + +_"Fact 8._--She concealed her address from her husband." + +"Oh! can you prove that?" + +"Certainly. Sir Charles came up to town, and had to hunt for her, came +to this very medical man, and asked for the address his wife had not +given him; but lo! when he got there the bird was flown. + +_"Fact 9._--Following the same system of concealment, my lady levanted +from London within ten days of her confinement. + +"Now put all these coincidences together. Don't you see that she had a +lover, and that he was about her in London and other places? Stop! +_Fact 10._--Those two were married for years, and had no child but this +equivocal one; and now four years and a half have passed, during all +which time they have had none, and the young parson has been abroad +during that period." + +Wheeler was staggered and perplexed by this artful array of +coincidences. + +"Now advise me," said Bassett. + +"It is not so easy. Of course if Sir Charles was to die, you could +claim the estate, and give them a great deal of pain and annoyance; but +the burden of proof would always rest on you. My advice is not to +breathe a syllable of this; but get a good detective, and push your +inquiries a little further among house agents, and the women they put +into houses; find that charwoman, and see if you can pick up anything +more." + +"Do you know such a thing as an able detective?" + +"I know one that will work if I instruct him." + +"Instruct him, then." + +"I will." + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +LADY BASSETT, as her time of trial drew near, became despondent. + +She spoke of the future, and tried to pierce it; and in all these +little loving speculations and anxieties there was no longer any +mention of herself. + +This meant that she feared her husband was about to lose her. I put the +fear in the very form it took in that gentle breast. + +Possessed with this dread, so natural to her situation, she set her +house in order, and left her little legacies of clothes and jewels, +without the help of a lawyer; for Sir Charles, she knew, would respect +her lightest wish. + +To him she left her all, except these trifles, and, above all--a +manuscript book. It was the history of her wedded life. Not the bare +outward history; but such a record of a sensitive woman's heart as no +male writer's pen can approach. + +It was the nature of her face and her tongue to conceal; but here, on +this paper, she laid bare her heart; here her very subtlety operated, +not to hide, but to dissect herself and her motives. + +But oh, what it cost her to pen this faithful record of her love, her +trials, her doubts, her perplexities, her agonies, her temptations, and +her crime! Often she laid down the pen, and hid her face in her hands. +Often the scalding tears ran down that scarlet face. Often she writhed +at her desk, and wrote on, sighing and moaning. Yet she persevered to +the end. It was the grave that gave her the power. "When he reads +this," she said, "I shall be in my tomb. Men make excuses for the dead. +My Charles will forgive me when I am gone. He will know I loved him to +desperation." + +It took her many days to write; it was quite a thick quarto; so much +may a woman feel in a year or two; and, need I say that, to the reader +of that volume, the mystery of her conduct was all made clear as +daylight; clearer far, as regards the revelation of mind and feeling, +than I, dealer in broad facts, shall ever make it, for want of a +woman's mental microscope and delicate brush. + +And when this record was finished, she wrapped it in paper, and sealed +it with many seals, and wrote on it, + +"Only for my husband's eye. From her who loved him not wisely, But too +well." + +And she took other means that even the superscription should never be +seen of any other eye but his. It was some little comfort to her, when +the book was written. + +She never prayed to live. But she used to pray, fervently, piteously, +that her child might live, and be a comfort and joy to his father. + + + +The person employed by Wheeler discovered the house agent, and the +woman he had employed. + +But these added nothing to the evidence Bassett had collected. + +At last, however, this woman, under the influence of a promised reward, +discovered a person who was likely to know more about the matter--viz., +the woman who was in the house with Lady Bassett at the very time. + +But this woman scented gold directly: so she held mysterious language; +declined to say a word to the officer; but intimated that she knew a +great deal, and that the matter was, in truth, well worth looking into, +and she could tell some strange tales, if it was worth her while. + +This information was sent to Bassett; he replied that the woman only +wanted money for her intelligence, and he did not blame her; he would +see her next time he went to town, and felt sure she would complete his +chain of evidence. This put Richard Bassett into extravagant spirits. +He danced his little boy on his knee, and said, "I'll run this little +horse against the parson's brat; five to one, and no takers." + +Indeed, his exultation was so loud and extravagant that it jarred on +gentle Mrs. Bassett. As for Jessie, the Scotch servant, she shook her +head, and said the master was fey. + +In the morning he started for London, still so exuberant and excited +that the Scotch woman implored her mistress not to let him go; there +would be an accident on the railway, or something. But Mrs. Bassett +knew her husband too well to interfere with his journeys. + +Before he drove off he demanded his little boy. + +"He must kiss me," said he, "for I'm going to work for him. D'ye hear +that, Jane? This day makes him heir of Huntercombe and Bassett." + +The nurse brought word that Master Bassett was not very well this +morning. + +"Let us look at him," said Bassett. + +He got out of his gig, and went to the nursery. He found his little boy +had a dry cough, with a little flushing. + +"It is not much," said he; "but I'll send the doctor over from the +town." + +He did so, and himself proceeded up to London. + +The doctor came, and finding the boy labored in breathing, administered +a full dose of ipecacuanha. This relieved the child for the time; but +about four in the afternoon he was distressed again, and began to cough +with a peculiar grating sound. + +Then there was a cry of dismay--"The croup!" The doctor was gone for, +and a letter posted to Richard Bassett, urging him to come back +directly. + +The doctor tried everything, even mercury, but could not check the +fatal discharge; it stiffened into a still more fatal membrane. + +When Bassett returned next afternoon, in great alarm, he found the poor +child thrusting its fingers into its mouth, in a vain attempt to free +the deadly obstruction. + +A warm bath and strong emetics were now administered, and great relief +obtained. The patient even ate and drank, and asked leave to get up and +play with a new toy he had. But, as often happens in this disorder, a +severe relapse soon came, with a spasm of the glottis so violent and +prolonged that the patient at last resigned the struggle. Then pain +ceased forever; the heavenly smile came; the breath went; and nothing +was left in the little white bed but a fair piece of tinted clay, that +must return to the dust, and carry thither all the pride, the hopes, +the boasts of the stricken father, who had schemed, and planned, and +counted without Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death. + +As for the child himself, his lot was a happy one, if we could but see +what the world is really worth. He was always a bright child, that +never cried, nor complained: his first trouble was his last; one day's +pain, then bliss eternal: he never got poisoned by his father's spirit +of hate, but loved and was beloved during his little lifetime; and, +dying, he passed from his Noah's ark to an inheritance a thousand times +richer than Huntercombe, Bassett, and all his cousin's lands. + + + +The little grave was dug, the bell tolled, and a man bowed double with +grief saw his child and his ambition laid in the dust. + +Lady Bassett heard the bell tolled, and spoke but two words: "Poor +woman!" + +She might well say so. Mrs. Bassett was in the same condition as +herself, yet this heavy blow must fall on her. + +As for Richard Bassett, he sat at home, bowed down and stupid with +grief. + +Wheeler came one day to console him; but, at the sight of him, +refrained from idle words. He sat down by him for an hour in silence. +Then he got up and said, "Good-by." + +"Thank you, old friend, for not insulting me," said Bassett, in a +broken voice. + +Wheeler took his hand, and turned away his head, and so went away, with +a tear in his eye. + +A fortnight after this he came again, and found Bassett in the same +attitude, but not in the same leaden stupor. On the contrary, he was in +a state of tremor; he had lost, under the late blow, the sanguine mind +that used to carry him through everything. + +The doctor was upstairs, and his wife's fate trembled in the balance. + +"Stay by me," said he, "for all my nerve is gone. I'm afraid I shall +lose her; for I have just begun to value her; and that is how God deals +with his creatures--the merciful God, as they call him." + +Wheeler thought it rather hard God Almighty should be blamed because +Dick Bassett had taken eight years to find out his wife's merit; but he +forbore to say so. He said kindly that he would stay. + +Now while they sat in trying suspense the church-bells struck up a +merry peal. + +Bassett started violently and his eyes gave a strange glare. "That's +the other!" said he; for he had heard about Lady Bassett by this time. + +Then he turned pale. "They ring for him: then they are sure to toll for +me." + +This foreboding was natural enough in a man so blinded by egotism as to +fancy that all creation, and the Creator himself, must take a side in +Bassett _v._ Bassett. + +Nevertheless, events did not justify that foreboding. The bells had +scarcely done ringing for the happy event at Huntercombe, when joyful +feet were heard running on the stairs; joyful voices clashed together +in the passage, and in came a female servant with joyful tidings. Mrs. +Bassett was safe, and the child in the world. "The loveliest little +girl you ever saw!" + +"A girl!" cried Richard Bassett with contemptuous amazement. Even his +melancholy forebodings had not gone that length. "And what have they +got at Huntercombe?" + +"Oh, it is a boy, sir, there." + +"Of course." + +The ringers heard, and sent one of their number to ask him if they +should ring. + +"What for?" asked Bassett with a nasty glittering eye; and then with +sudden fury he seized a large piece of wood from the basket to fling at +his insulter. "I'll teach you to come and mock me." + +The ringer vanished, ducking. + +"Gently," said Wheeler, "gently." + +Bassett chucked the wood back into the basket, and sat down gloomily, +saying, "Then how dare he come and talk about ringing bells for a girl? +To think that I should have all this fright, and my wife all this +trouble--for a girl!" + + + +It was no time to talk of business then; but about a fortnight +afterward Wheeler said, "I took the detective off, to save you +expense." + +"Quite right," said Bassett, wearily. + +"I gave you the woman's address; so the matter is in your hands now, I +consider." + +"Yes," said Bassett, wearily; "Move no further in it." + +"Certainly not; and, frankly, I should be glad to see you abandon it." + +"I _have_ abandoned it. Why should I stir the mud now? I and mine are +thrown out forever; the only question is, shall a son of Sir Charles or +the parson's son inherit? I'm for the wrongful heir. Ay," he cried, +starting up, and beating the air with his fists in sudden fury, "since +the right Bassetts are never to have it, let the wrong Bassetts be +thrown out, at all events; I'm on my back, but Sir Charles is no better +off; a bastard will succeed him, thanks to that cursed woman who +defeated _me."_ + +This turn took Wheeler by surprise. It also gave him real pain. +"Bassett," said he, "I pity you. What sort of a life has yours been for +the last eight years? Yet, when there's no fuel left for war and +hatred, you blow the embers. You are incurable." + +"I am," said Richard. "I'll hate those two with my last breath and +curse them in my last prayer." + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +LADY BASSETT'S forebodings, like most of our insights into the future, +were confuted by the event. + +She became the happy mother of a flaxen-haired boy. She insisted on +nursing him herself; and the experienced persons who attended her +raised no objection. + +In connection with this she gave Sir Charles a peck, not very severe, +but sudden, and remarkable as the only one on record. + +He was contemplating her and her nursling with the deepest affection, +and happened to say, "My own Bella, what delight it gives me to see +you!" + +"Yes," said she, "we will have only one mother this time, will we, my +darling? and it shall be Me." Then suddenly, turning her head like a +snake, "Oh, I saw the looks you gave that woman!" + +This was the famous peck; administered in return for a look that he had +bestowed on Mary Gosport not more than five years ago. + +Sir Charles would, doubtless, have bled to death on the spot, but +either he had never been aware how he looked, or time and business had +obliterated the impression, for he was unaffectedly puzzled, and said, +"What woman do you mean, dear?" + +"No matter, darling," said Lady Bassett, who had already repented her +dire severity: "all I say is that a nurse is a rival I could not endure +now; and another thing, I do believe those wet-nurses give their +disposition to the child: it is dreadful to think of." + +"Well, if so, baby is safe. He will be the most amiable boy in +England." + +"He shall be more amiable than I am--scolding my husband of husbands;" +and she leaned toward him, baby and all, for a kiss from his lips. + +We say at school "Seniores priores"--let favor go by seniority; but +where babies adorn the scene, it is "juniores priores" with that sex to +which the very young are confided. + +To this rule, as might be expected, Lady Bassett furnished no +exception; she was absorbed in baby, and trusted Mr. Bassett a good +deal to his attendant, who bore an excellent character for care and +attention. + +Now Mr. Bassett was strong on his pins and in his will, and his +nurse-maid, after all, was young; so he used to take his walks nearly +every day to Mrs. Meyrick's: she petted him enough, and spoiled him in +every way, while the nurse-maid was flirting with the farm-servants out +of sight. + +Sir Charles Bassett was devoted to the boy, and used always to have him +to his study in the morning, and to the drawing-room after dinner, when +the party was small, and that happened much oftener now than +heretofore; but at other hours he did not look after him, being a +business man, and considering him at that age to be under his mother's +care. + +One day the only guest was Mr. Rolfe; he was staying in the house for +three days, upon a condition suggested by himself--viz., that he might +enjoy his friends' society in peace and comfort, and not be set to roll +the stone of conversation up some young lady's back, and obtain +monosyllables in reply, faintly lisped amid a clatter of fourteen +knives and forks. As he would not leave his writing-table on any milder +terms, they took him on these. + +After dinner in came Mr. Bassett, erect, and a proud nurse with little +Compton, just able to hold his nurse's gown and toddle. + +Rolfe did not care for small children; he just glanced at the angelic, +fair-haired infant, but his admiring gaze rested on the elder boy. + +"Why, what is here--an Oriental prince?" + +The boy ran to him directly. "Who are you?" + +"Rolfe the writer. Who are you--the Gipsy King?" + +"No; but I am very fond of gypsies. I'm _Mister_ Bassett; and when papa +dies I shall be Sir Charles Bassett." + +Sir Charles laughed at this with paternal fatuity, especially as the +boy's name happened to be Reginald Francis, after his grandfather. + +Rolfe smiled satirically, for these little speeches from children did +much to reconcile him to his lot. + +"Meantime," said he, "let us feed off him; for it may be forty years +before we can dance over his grave. First let us see what is the +unwholesomest thing on the table." + +He rose, and to the infinite delight of Mr. Bassett, and even of Master +Compton, who pointed and crowed from his mother's lap, he got up on his +chair, and put on a pair of spectacles to look. + +"Eureka!" said he; "behold that dish by Lady Bassett; those are +_marrons glaces;_ fetch them here, and let us go in for a fit of the +gout at once." + +"Gout! what's that?" inquired Mr. Bassett. + +"Don't ask me." + +"You don't know. + +"Not know! What, didn't I tell you I was Rolfe the writer? Writers know +everything. That is what makes them so modest." + +Mr. Bassett was now unnaturally silent for five minutes, munching +chestnuts; this enabled his guests to converse; but as soon as he had +cleared his plate, he cut right across the conversation, with that +savage contempt for all topics but his own which characterizes +gentlemen of his age, and says he to Rolfe, "You know everything? Then +what's a parson's brat?" + +"Well, that's the one thing I don't know," said Rolfe; "but a brat I +take to be a boy who interrupts ladies and gentlemen with nonsense when +they are talking sense." + +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Rolfe," said Lady Bassett. "That +remark was very much needed." + +Then she called Reginald to her, and lectured him, _sotto voce,_ to the +same tune. + +"You old bachelors are rather hard," said Sir Charles, not very well +pleased. + +"We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. After all, it is no +wonder. What a superb boy it is!--Here is nurse. I'm so sorry. Now we +shall be cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and I +shall not be expected to--(good-night, little flaxen angel; good-by, +handsome and loquacious demon; kiss and be friends)--expected to know, +all in a minute, what is a parson's brat. By-the-by, talking of +parsons, what has become of Angelo?" + +"He has been away a good many years. Consumption, I hear." + +"He was a fine-built fellow too; was he not, Lady Bassett?" + +"I don't know; but he was beautifully strong. I think I see him now +carrying dear Charles in his arms all down the garden." + +"Ah, you see he was raised in a university that does not do things by +halves, but trains both body and mind, as they did at Athens; for the +union of study and athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it is +only a return to antiquity." + +Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir Charles glanced at +his, and sent them to his study. Lady Bassett had but one. She said, +_"May_ I?" to both gentlemen, and then opened it. + +"How strange!" said she. "It is from Mr. Angelo: just a line to say he +is coming home quite cured." + +She began this composedly, but blushed afterward--blushed quite red. + +_"May_ I?" said she, and tossed it delicately half-way to Rolfe. He +handed it to Sir Charles. + +Some remarks were then made about the coincidence, and nothing further +passed worth recording at that time. + +Next day Lady Bassett, with instinctive curiosity, asked Master +Reginald how he came to put such a question as that to Mr. Rolfe. + +"Because I wanted to know." + +"But what put such words into your head? I never heard a gentleman say +such words; and you must never say them again, Reginald." + +"Tell me what it means, and I won't," said he. + +"Oh," said Lady Bassett, "since you bargain with me, sir, I must +bargain with you. Tell me first where you ever heard such words." + +"When I was staying at nurse's. Ah, that was jolly." + +"You like that better than being here?" + +"Yes." + +"I am sorry for that. Well, dear, did nurse say that? Surely not?" + +"Oh, no; it was the man." + +"What man?" + +"Why, the man that came to the gate one morning, and talked to me, and +I talked to him, and that nasty nurse ran out and caught us, and +carried me in, and gave me such a hiding, and all for nothing." + +"A hiding! What words the poor child picks up! But I don't understand +why nurse should beat _you."_ + +"For speaking to the man. She said he was a bad man, and she would kill +me if ever I spoke to him again." + +"Oh, it was a bad man, and said bad words--to somebody he was +quarreling with?" + +"No, he said them to nurse because she took me away." + +"What _did_ he say, Reginald?" asked Lady Bassett, becoming very grave +and thoughtful all at once. + +"He said, 'That's too late; I've seen the parson's brat.'" + +"Oh!" + +"And I've asked nurse again and again what it meant, but she won't tell +me. She only says the man is a liar, and I am not to say it again; and +so I never did say it again--for a long time; but last night, when +Rolfe the writer said he knew everything, it struck my head--what is +the matter, mamma?" + +"Nothing; nothing." + +"You look so white. Are you ill, mamma?" and he went to put his arms +round her, which was a mighty rare thing with him. + +She trembled a good deal, and did not either embrace him or repel him. +She only trembled. + +After some time she recovered herself enough to say, in a voice and +with a manner that impressed itself at once on this sharp boy: +"Reginald, your nurse was quite right. Understand this: the man was +your enemy--and mine; the words he said you must not say again. It +would be like taking up dirt and flinging some on your own face and +some on mine." + +"I won't do that," said the boy, firmly. "Are you afraid of the man +that you look so white?" + +"A man with a woman's tongue--who can help fearing?" + +"Don't you be afraid; as soon as I'm big enough, I'll kill him." + +Lady Bassett looked with surprise at the child, he uttered this resolve +with such a steady resolution. + +She drew him to her, and kissed him on the forehead. + +"No, Reginald," said she; "we must not shed blood; it is as wicked to +kill our enemies as to kill any one else. But never speak to him, never +even listen to him; if he tries to speak to you, run away from him, and +don't let him--he is our enemy." + +That same day she went to Mrs. Meyrick, to examine her. But she found +the boy had told her all there was to tell. + +Mrs. Meyrick, whose affection for her was not diminished, was downright +vexed. "Dear me!" said she; "I did think I had kept that from vexing of +you. To think of the dear child hiding it for nigh two years, and then +to blurt it out like that! Nobody heard him I hope?" + +"Others heard; but--" + +"Didn't heed; the Lord be praised for that." + +"Mary," said Lady Bassett, solemnly, "I am not equal to another battle +with Mr. Richard Bassett; and such a battle! Better tell all, and die." + +"Don't think of it," said Mary. "You're safe from Richard Bassett now. +Times are changed since he came spying to my gate. His own boy is gone. +You have got two. He'll lie still if you do. But if you tell your tale, +he must hear on't, and he'll tell his. For God's sake, my lady, keep +close. It is the curse of women that they can't just hold their +tongues, and see how things turn. And is this a time to spill good +liquor? Look at Sir Charles! why, he is another man; he have got flesh +on his bones now, and color into his cheeks, and 'twas you and I made a +man of him. It is my belief you'd never have had this other little +angel but for us having sense and courage to see what _must_ be done. +Knock down our own work, and send him wild again, and give that Richard +Bassett a handle? You'll never be so mad." + +Lady Bassett replied. The other answered; and so powerfully that Lady +Bassett yielded, and went home sick at heart, but helpless, and in a +sea of doubt. + +Mr. Angelo did not call. Sir Charles asked Lady Bassett if he had +called on her. + +She said "No." + +"That is odd," said Sir Charles. "Perhaps he thinks we ought to welcome +him home. Write and ask him to dinner." + +"Yes, dear. Or you can write." + +"Very well, I will. No, I will call." + +Sir Charles called, and welcomed him home, and asked him to dinner. +Angelo received him rather stiffly at first, but accepted his +invitation. + +He came, looking a good deal older and graver, but almost as handsome +as ever; only somewhat changed in mind. He had become a zealous +clergyman, and his soul appeared to be in his work. He was distant and +very respectful to Lady Bassett; I might say obsequious. Seemed almost +afraid of her at first. + +That wore off in a few months; but he was never quite so much at his +ease with her as he had been before he left some years ago. + + + +And so did time roll on. + +Every morning and every night Lady Bassett used to look wistfully at +Sir Charles, and say-- + +"Are you happy, dear? Are you sure you are happy?" + +And he used always to say, and with truth, that he was the happiest man +in England, thanks to her. + +Then she used to relax the wild and wistful look with which she asked +the question, and give a sort of sigh, half content, half resignation. + +In due course another fine boy came, and filled the royal office of +baby in his turn. + +But my story does not follow him. + + + +Reginald was over ten years old, and Compton nearly six. They were as +different in character as complexion--both remarkable boys. + +Reginald, Sir Charles's favorite, was a wonderful boy for riding, +running, talking; and had a downright genius for melody; he whistled to +the admiration of the village, and latterly he practiced the fiddle in +woods and under hedges, being aided and abetted therein by a gypsy boy +whom he loved, and who, indeed, provided the instrument. + +He rode with Sir Charles, and rather liked him; his brother he never +noticed, except to tease him. Lady Bassett he admired, and almost loved +her while she was in the act of playing him undeniable melodies. But he +liked his nurse Meyrick better, on the whole; she flattered him more, +and was more uniformly subservient. + +With these two exceptions he despised the whole race of women, and +affected male society only, especially of grooms, stable-boys, and +gypsies; these last welcomed him to their tents, and almost prostrated +themselves before him, so dazzled were they by his beauty and his +color. It is believed they suspected him of having gypsy blood in his +veins. They let him into their tents, and even into some of their +secrets, and he promised them they should have it all their own way as +soon as he was Sir Reginald; he had outgrown his original theory that +he was to be Sir Charles on his father's death. + +He hated in-doors; when fixed by command to a book, would beg hard to +be allowed to take it into the sun; and at night would open his window +and poke his black head out to wash in the moonshine, as he said. + +He despised ladies and gentlemen, said they were all affected fools, +and gave imitations of all his father's guests to prove it; and so keen +was this child of nature's eye for affectation that very often his +disapproving parents were obliged to confess the imp had seen with his +fresh eye defects custom had made them overlook, or the solid good +qualities that lay beneath had overbalanced. + +Now all this may appear amusing and eccentric, and so on, to strangers; +but after the first hundred laughs or so with which paternal indulgence +dismisses the faults of childhood, Sir Charles became very grave. + +The boy was his darling and his pride. He was ambitious for him. He +earnestly desired to solve for him a problem which is as impossible as +squaring the circle, viz., how to transmit our experience to our +children. The years and the health he had wasted before he knew Bella +Bruce, these he resolved his successor should not waste. He looked +higher for this beautiful boy than for himself. He had fully resolved +to be member for the county one day; but he did not care about it for +himself; it was only to pave the way for his successor; that Sir +Reginald, after a long career in the Commons, might find his way into +the House of Peers, and so obtain dignity in exchange for antiquity; +for, to tell the truth, the ancestors of four-fifths of the British +House of Peers had been hewers of wood and drawers of water at a time +when these Bassetts had already been gentlemen of distinction for +centuries. + +All this love and this vicarious ambition were now mortified daily. +Some fathers could do wonders for a brilliant boy, and with him; they +expect him, and a dull boy appears; that is a bitter pill; but this was +worse. Reginald was a sharp boy; he could do anything; fasten him to a +book for twenty minutes, he would learn as much as most boys in an +hour; but there was no keeping him to it, unless you strapped him or +nailed him, for he had the will of a mule, and the suppleness of an eel +to carry out his will. And then his tastes--low as his features were +refined; he was a sort of moral dung-fork; picked up all the slang of +the stable and scattered it in the dining-room and drawing-room; and +once or twice he stole out of his comfortable room at night, and slept +in a gypsy's tent with his arm round a gypsy boy, unsullied from his +cradle by soap. + +At last Sir Charles could no longer reply to his wife at night as he +had done for this ten years past. He was obliged to confess that there +was one cloud upon his happiness. "Dear Reginald grieves me, and makes +me dread the future; for if the child is father to the man, there is a +bitter disappointment in store for us. He is like no other boy; he is +like no human creature I ever saw. At his age, and long after, I was a +fool; I was a fool till I knew you; but surely I was a gentleman. I +cannot see myself again--in my first-born." + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +LADY BASSETT was paralyzed for a minute or two by this speech. At last +she replied by asking a question--rather a curious one. "Who nursed +you, Charles?" + +"What, when I was a baby? How can I tell? Yes, by-the-by, it was my +mother nursed me--so I was told." + +"And your mother was a Le Compton. This poor boy was nursed by a +servant. Oh, she has some good qualities, and is certainly devoted to +us--to this day her face brightens at sight of me--but she is +essentially vulgar; and do you remember, Charles, I wished to wean him +early; but I was overruled, and the poor child drew his nature from +that woman for nearly eighteen months; it is a thing unheard of +nowadays." + +"Well, but surely it is from our parents we draw our nature." + +"No; I think it is from our nurses. If Compton or Alec ever turn out +like Reginald, blame nobody but their nurse, and that is Me." + +Sir Charles smiled faintly at this piece of feminine logic, and asked +her what he should do. + +She said she was quite unable to advise. Mr. Rolfe was coming to see +them soon; perhaps he might be able to suggest something. + +Sir Charles said he would consult him; but he was clear on one +thing--the boy must be sent from Huntercombe, and so separated from all +his present acquaintances. + +Mr. Rolfe came, and the distressed father opened his heart to him in +strict confidence respecting Reginald. + +Rolfe listened and sympathized, and knit his brow, and asked time to +consider what he had heard, and also to study the boy for himself. + +He angled for him next day accordingly. A little table was taken out on +the lawn, and presently Mr. Rolfe issued forth in a uniform suit of +dark blue flannel and a sombrero hat, and set to work writing a novel +in the sun. + +Reginald in due course descried this figure, and it smacked so of that +Bohemia to which his own soul belonged that he was attracted thereby, +but made his approaches stealthily, like a little cat. + +Presently a fiddle went off behind a tree, so close that the novelist +leaped out of his seat with an eldrich screech; for he had long ago +forgotten all about Mr. Reginald, and, when he got heated in this kind +of composition, any sudden sound seemed to his tense nerves and boiling +brain about ten times as loud as it really was. + +Having relieved himself with a yell, he sat down with the mien of a +martyr expecting tortures; but he was most agreeably disappointed; the +little monster played an English melody, and played it in tune. This +done, he whistled a quick tune, and played a slow second to it in +perfect harmony; this done, he whistled the second part and played the +quick treble--a very simple feat, but still ingenious for a boy, and +new to his hearer. + +"Bravo! bravo!" cried Rolfe, with all his heart, + +Mr. Reginald emerged, radiant with vanity. "You are like me, Mr. +Writer," said he; "you don't like to be cooped up in-doors." + +"I wish I could play the fiddle like you, my fine fellow." + +"Ah, you can't do that all in a minute; see the time I have been at +it." + +"Ah, to be sure, I forgot your antiquity." + +"And it isn't the time only; it's giving your mind to it, old chap." + +"What, you don't give your mind to your books, then, as you do to your +fiddle, _young gentleman?"_ + +"Not such a flat. Why, lookee here, governor, if you go and give your +mind to a thing you don't like, it's always time wasted, because some +other chap, that does like it, will beat you, and what's the use +working for to be beat?" + +"'For' is redundant," objected Rolfe. + +"But if you stick hard to the things you like, you do 'em downright +well. But old people are such fools, they always drive you the wrong +way. They make the gals play music six hours a day, and you might as +well set the hen bullfinches to pipe. Look at the gals as come here, +how they rattle up and down the piano, and can't make it sing a morsel. +Why, they _couldn't_ rattle like that, if they'd music in their skins, +d--n 'em; and they drive me to those stupid books, because I'm all for +music and moonshine. Can you keep a secret?" + +"As the tomb." + +"Well, then, I can do plenty of things well, besides fiddling; I can +set a wire with any poacher in the parish. I have caught plenty of our +old man's hares in my time; and it takes a workman to set a wire as it +should be. Show me a wire, and I'll tell you whether it was Hudson, or +Whitbeck, or Squinting Jack, or who it was that set it. I know all +their work that walks by moonlight hereabouts." + +"This is criticism; a science; I prefer art; play me another tune, my +bold Bohemian." + +"Ah, I thought I should catch ye with my fiddle. You're not such a muff +as the others, old 'un, not by a long chalk. Hang me if I won't give ye +'Ireland's music,' and I've sworn never to waste that on a fool." + +He played the old Irish air so simply and tunably that Rolfe leaned +back in his chair, with half closed eyes, in soft voluptuous ecstasy. + +The youngster watched him with his coal-black eye. + +"I like you," said he, "better than I thought I should, a precious +sight." + +"Highly flattered." + +"Come with me, and hear my nurse sing it." + +"What, and leave my novel?" + +"Oh, bother your novel." + +"And so I will. That will be tit for tat; it has bothered me. Lead on, +Bohemian bold." + +The boy took him, over hedge and ditch, the short-cut to Meyrick's +farm; and caught Mrs. Meyrick, and said she must sing "Ireland's music" +to Rolfe the writer. + +Mrs. Meyrick apologized for her dress, and affected shyness about +singing: Mr. Reginald stared at first, then let her know that, if she +was going to be affected like the girls that came to the Hall, he +should hate her, as he did them, and this he confirmed with a naughty +word. + +Thus threatened, she came to book, and sang Ireland's melody in a low, +rich, sonorous voice; Reginald played a second; the harmony was so +perfect and strong that certain glass candelabra on the mantel-piece +rang loudly, and the drops vibrated. Then he made her sing the second, +and he took the treble with his violin; and he wound up by throwing in +a third part himself, a sort of countertenor, his own voice being much +higher than the woman's. + +The tears stood in Rolfe's eyes. "Well," said he, "you have got the +soul of music, you two. I could listen to you 'From morn till noon, +from noon till dewy eve.'" + +As they returned to Huntercombe, this mercurial youth went off at a +tangent, and Rolfe saw him no more. + +He wrote in peace, and walked about between the heats. + +Just before dinner-time the screams of women were heard hard by, and +the writer hurried to the place in time to see Mr. Basset hanging by +the shoulder from the branch of a tree, about twenty feet from the +ground. + +Rolfe hallooed, as he ran, to the women, to fetch blankets to catch +him, and got under the tree, determined to try and catch him in his +arms, if necessary; but he encouraged the boy to hold on. + +"All right, governor," said the boy, in a quavering voice. + +It was very near the kitchen; maids and men poured out with blankets; +eight people held one, under Rolfe's direction, and down came Mr. +Bassett in a semicircle, and bounded up again off the blanket, like an +India-rubber ball. + +His quick mind recovered courage the moment he touched wool. + +"Crikey! that's jolly," said he; "give me another toss or two." + +"Oh no! no!" said a good-natured maid. "Take an' put him to bed right +off, poor dear." + +"Hold your tongue, ye bitch," said young hopeful; "if ye don't toss me, +I'll turn ye all off, as soon as ever the old un kicks the bucket." + +Thus menaced, they thought it prudent to toss him; but, at the third +toss, he yelled out, "Oh! oh! oh! I'm all wet; it's blood! I'm dead!" + +Then they examined, and found his arm was severely lacerated by an old +nail that had been driven into the tree, and it had torn the flesh in +his fall: he was covered with blood, the sight of which quenched his +manly spirit, and he began to howl. + +"Old linen rag, warm water, and a bottle of champagne," shouted Rolfe: +the servants flew. + +Rolfe dressed and bandaged the wound for him, and then he felt faint: +the champagne soon set that right; and then he wanted to get drunk, +alleging, as a reason, that he had not been drunk for this two months. + +Sir Charles was told of the accident, and was distressed by it, and +also by the cause. + +"Rolfe," said he, sorrowfully, "there is a ring-dove's nest on that +tree: she and hers have built there in peace and safety for a hundred +years, and cooed about the place. My unhappy boy was climbing the tree +to take the young, after solemnly promising me he never would: that is +the bitter truth. What shall I do with the young barbarian?" + +He sighed, and Lady Bassett echoed the sigh. + +Said Rolfe, "The young barbarian, as you call him, has disarmed me: he +plays the fiddle like a civilized angel." + +"Oh, Mr. Rolfe!" + +"What, you his mother, and not found that out yet? Oh yes, he has a +heaven-born genius for music." + +Rolfe then related the musical feats of the urchin. + +Sir Charles begged to observe that this talent would go a very little +way toward fitting him to succeed his father and keep up the credit of +an ancient family. + +"Dear Charles, Mr. Rolfe knows that; but it is like him to make the +best of things, to encourage us. But what do you think of him, on the +whole, Mr. Rolfe? has Sir Charles more to hope or to fear?" + +"Give me another day or two to study him," said Rolfe. + +That night there was a loud alarm. Mr. Bassett was running about the +veranda in his night-dress. + +They caught him and got him to bed, and Rolfe said it was fever; and, +with the assistance of Sir Charles and a footman, laid him between two +towels steeped in tepid water, then drew blankets tight over him, and, +in short, packed him. + +"Ah!" said he, complacently; "I say, give me a drink of moonshine, old +chap." + +"I'll give you a bucketful," said Rolfe; then, with the servant's help, +took his little bed and put it close to the window; the moonlight +streamed in on the boy's face, his great black eyes glittered in it. He +was diabolically beautiful. "Kiss me, moonshine," said he; "I like to +wash in you." + +Next day he was, apparently, quite well, and certainly ripe for fresh +mischief. Rolfe studied him, and, the evening before he went, gave Sir +Charles and Lady Bassett his opinion, but not with his usual alacrity; +a weight seemed to hang on him, and, more than once, his voice +trembled. + +"I shall tell you," said he, "what I see--what I foresee--and then, +with great diffidence, what I advise. + +"I see--what naturalists call a reversion in race, a boy who resembles +in color and features neither of his parents, and, indeed, bears little +resemblance to any of the races that have inhabited England since +history was written. He suggests rather some Oriental type." + +Sir Charles turned round in his chair, with a sigh, and said, "We are +to have a romance, it seems." + +Lady Bassett stared with all her eyes, and began to change color. + +The theorist continued, with perfect composure, "I don't undertake to +account for it with any precision. How can I? Perhaps there is Moorish +blood in your family, and here it has revived; you look incredulous, +but there are plenty of examples, ay, and stronger than this: every +child that is born resembles some progenitor; how then do you account +for Julia Pastrana, a young lady who dined with me last week, and sang +me 'Ah perdona,' rather feebly, in the evening? Bust and figure like +any other lady, hand exquisite, arms neatly turned, but with long, +silky hair from the elbow to the wrist. Face, ugh! forehead made of +black leather, eyes all pupil, nose an excrescence, chin pure monkey, +face all covered with hair; briefly, a type extinct ten thousand years +before Adam, yet it could revive at this time of day. Compared with La +Pastrana, and many much weaker examples of antiquity revived, that I +have seen, your Mauritanian son is no great marvel, after all." + +"This is a _little_ too far-fetched," said Sir Charles, satirically; +"Bella's father was a very dark man, and it is a tradition in our +family that all the Bassetts were as black as ink till they married +with you Rolfes, in the year 1684." + +"Oho!" said Rolfe, "is it so? See how discussion brings out things." + +"And then," said Lady Bassett, "Charles dear, tell Mr. Rolfe what I +think." + +"Ay, do," said Rolfe; "that will be a new form of circumlocution." + +Sir Charles complied, with a smile. "Lady Bassett's theory is, that +children derive their nature quite as much from their wet-nurses as +from their parents, and she thinks the faults we deplore in Reginald +are to be traced to his nurse; by-the-by, she is a dark woman too." + +"Well," said Rolfe, "there's a good deal of truth in that, as far as +regards the disposition. But I never heard color so accounted for; yet +why not? It has been proved that the very bones of young animals can be +colored pink, by feeding them on milk so colored." + +"There!" said Lady Bassett. + +"But no nurse could give your son a color which is not her own. I have +seen the woman; she is only a dark Englishwoman. Her arms were +embrowned by exposure, but her forehead was not brown. Mr. Reginald is +quite another thing. The skin of his body, the white of his eye, the +pupil, all look like a reversion to some Oriental type; and, mark the +coincidence, he has mental peculiarities that point toward the East." + +Sir Charles lost patience. "On the contrary," said he, "he talks and +feels just like an English snob, and makes me miserable." + +"Oh, as to that, he has picked up vulgar phrases at that farm, and in +your stables; but he never picked up his musical genius in stables and +farms, far less his poetry." + +"What poetry?" + +"What poetry? Why, did not you hear him? Was it not poetical of a +wounded, fevered boy to beg to be laid by the window, and to say 'Let +me drink the moonshine?' Take down your Homer, and read a thousand +lines haphazard, and see whether you stumble over a thought more +poetical than that. But criticism does not exist: whatever the dead +said was good; whatever the living say is little; as if the dead were a +race apart, and had never been the living, and the living would never +be the dead." + +Heaven knows where he was running to now, but Sir Charles stopped him +by conceding that point. "Well you are right: poor child, it was +poetical," and the father's pride predominated, for a moment, over +every other sentiment. + +"Yes; but where did it come from? That looks to me a typical idea; I +mean an idea derived, not from his luxurious parents, dwellers in +curtained mansions, but from some out-door and remote ancestor; perhaps +from the Oriental tribe that first colonized Britain; they worshiped +the sun and the moon, no doubt; or perhaps, after all, it only came +from some wandering tribe that passed their lives between the two +lights of heaven, and never set foot in a human dwelling." + +"This," said Sir Charles, "is a flattering speculation, but so wild and +romantic that I fear it will lead us to no practical result. I thought +you undertook to advise me. What advice can you build on these cobwebs +of your busy brain?" + +"Excuse me, my practical friend," said Rolfe. "I opened my discourse in +three heads. What I see--what I foresee--and what, with diffidence, I +advise. Pray don't disturb my methods, or I am done for; never disturb +an artist's form. I have told you what I see. What I foresee is this: +you will have to cut off the entail with Reginald's consent, when he is +of age, and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cutting off +entails runs in families, like everything else; your grandfather did +it, and so will you. You should put by a few thousands every year, that +you may be able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental or +your Saxon son." + +"Never!" shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken voice, "He is my +first-born, and my idol; his coming into the world rescued me out of a +morbid condition: he healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and put +his younger brother in his place--never!" + +Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the subject, which, indeed, +could be carried no farther without serious offense. + +"And now for my advice. The question is, how to educate this strange +boy. One thing is clear; it is no use trying the humdrum plan any +longer; it has been tried, and failed. I should adapt his education to +his nature. Education is made as stiff and unyielding as a board; but +it need not be. I should abolish that spectacled tutor of yours at +once, and get a tutor, young, enterprising, manly, and supple, who +would obey orders; and the order should be to observe the boy's nature, +and teach accordingly. Why need men teach in a chair, and boys learn in +a chair? The Athenians studied not in chairs. The Peripatetics, as +their name imports, hunted knowledge afoot; those who sought truth in +the groves of Academus were not seated at that work. Then let the tutor +walk with him, and talk with him by sunlight and moonlight, relating +old history, and commenting on each new thing that is done, or word +spoken, and improve every occasion. Why, I myself would give a guinea a +day to walk with William White about the kindly aspects and wooded +slopes of Selborne, or with Karr about his garden. Cut Latin and Greek +clean out of the scheme. They are mere cancers to those who can never +excel in them. Teach him not dead languages, but living facts. Have him +in your justice-room for half an hour a day, and give him your own +comments on what he has heard there. Let his tutor take him to all +Quarter Sessions and Assizes, and stick to him like diaculum, +especially out-of-doors; order him never to be admitted to the +stable-yard; dismiss every biped there that lets him come. Don't let +him visit his nurse so often, and never without his tutor; it was she +who taught him to look forward to your decease; that is just like these +common women. Such a tutor as I have described will deserve 500 pounds +a year. Give it him; and dismiss him if he plays humdrum and doesn't +earn it. Dismiss half a dozen, if necessary, till you get a fellow with +a grain or two of genius for tuition. When the boy is seventeen, what +with his Oriental precocity, and this system of education, he will know +the world as well as a Saxon boy of twenty-one, and that is not saying +much. Then, if his nature is still as wild, get him a large tract in +Australia; cattle to breed, kangaroos to shoot, swift horses to thread +the bush and gallop mighty tracts; he will not shirk business, if it +avoids the repulsive form of sitting down in-doors, and offers itself +in combination with riding, hunting, galloping, cracking of rifles, and +of colonial whips as loud as rifles, and drinking sunshine and +moonshine in that mellow clime, beneath the Southern Cross and the +spangled firmament of stars unknown to us." + +His own eyes sparkled like hot coals at this Bohemian picture. + +Then he sighed and returned to civilization. "But," said he, "be ready +with eighty thousand pounds for him, that he may enjoy his own way and +join you in barring the entail. I forgot, I must say no more on that +subject; I see it is as offensive--as it is inevitable. Cassandra has +spoken wisely, and, I see, in vain. God bless you both--good-night." + +And he rolled out of the room with a certain clumsy importance. + +Sir Charles treated all this advice with a polite forbearance while he +was in the room, but on his departure delivered a sage reflection. + +"Strange," said he, "that a man so valuable in any great emergency +should be so extravagant and eccentric in the ordinary affairs of life. +I might as well drive to Bellevue House and consult the first gentleman +I met there." + +Lady Bassett did not reply immediately, and Sir Charles observed that +her face was very red and her hands trembled. + +"Why, Bella," said he, "has all that rhodomontade upset you?" + +Lady Bassett looked frightened at his noticing her agitation, and said +that Mr. Rolfe always overpowered her. "He is so large, and so +confident, and throws such new light on things." + +"New light! Wild eccentricity always does that; but it is the light of +Jack-o'-lantern. On a great question, so near my heart as this, give me +the steady light of common sense, not the wayward coruscations of a +fiery imagination. Bella dear, I shall send the boy to a good school, +and so cut off at one blow all the low associations that have caused +the mischief." + +"You know what is best, dear," said Lady Bassett; "you are wiser than +any of us." + +In the morning she got hold of Mr. Rolfe, and asked him if he could put +her in the way of getting more than three per cent for her money +_without risk._ + +"Only one," said .Rolfe. "London freeholds in rising situations let to +substantial tenants. I can get you five per cent that way, if you are +always ready to buy. The thing does not offer every day." + +"I have twenty thousand pounds to dispose of so," said Lady Bassett. + +"Very well," said Rolfe. "I'll look out for you, but Oldfield must +examine titles and do the actual business. The best of that investment +is, it is always improving; no ups and downs. Come," thought he, +"Cassandra has not spoken quite in vain." + +Sir Charles acted on his judgment, and in due course sent Mr. Bassett +to a school at some distance, kept by a clergyman, who had the credit +in that county of exercising sharp supervision and strict discipline. + +Sir Charles made no secret of the boy's eccentricities. Mr. Beecher +said he had one or two steady boys who assisted him in such cases. + +Sir Charles thought that a very good idea; it was like putting a wild +colt into the break with a steady horse. + +He missed the boy sadly at first, but comforted himself with the +conviction that he had parted with him for his good: that consoled him +somewhat. + + + +The younger children of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were educated +entirely by their mother, and taught as none but a loving lady can +teach. + +Compton, with whom we have to do, never knew the thorns with which the +path of letters is apt to be strewn. A mistress of the great art of +pleasing made knowledge from the first a primrose path to him. +Sparkling all over with intelligence, she impregnated her boy with it. +She made herself his favorite companion; she would not keep her +distance. She stole and coaxed knowledge and goodness into his heart +and mind with rare and loving cunning. + +She taught him English and French and Latin on the Hamiltonian plan, +and stored his young mind with history and biography, and read to him, +and conversed with him on everything as they read it. + +She taught him to speak the truth, and to be honorable and just. + +She taught him to be polite, and even formal, rather than free-and-easy +and rude. She taught him to be a man. He must not be what brave boys +called a molly-coddle: like most womanly women, she had a veneration +for man, and she gave him her own high idea of the manly character. + +Natural ability, and habitual contact with a mind so attractive and so +rich, gave this intelligent boy many good ideas beyond his age. + +When he was six years old, Lady Bassett made him pass his word of honor +that he would never go into the stable-yard; and even then he was far +enough advanced to keep his word religiously. + +In return for this she let him taste some sweets of liberty, and was +not always after him. She was profound enough to see that without +liberty a noble character cannot be formed; and she husbanded the curb. + + + +One day he represented to her that, in the meadow next their lawn, were +great stripes of yellow, which were possibly cowslips; of course they +might be only buttercups, but he hoped better things of them; he +further reported that there was an iron gate between him and this +paradise: he could get over it if not objectionable; but he thought it +safest to ask her what she thought of the matter; was that iron gate +intended to keep little boys from the cowslips, because, if so, it was +a misfortune to which he must resign himself. Still, it _was_ a +misfortune. All this, of course, in the simple language of boyhood. + +Then Lady Bassett smiled, and said, "Suppose I were to lend you a key +of that iron gate?" + +"Oh, mamma!" + +"I have a great mind to." + +"Then you will, you will." + +"Does that follow?" + +"Yes: whenever you say you think you'll do something kind, or you have +a great mind to do it, you know you always do it; and that is one thing +I do like you for, mamma--you are better than your word." + +"Better than my word? Where does the child learn these things?" + +"La, mamma, papa says that often." + +"Oh, that accounts for it. I like the phrase very much. I wish I could +think I deserved it. At any rate, I will be as good as my word for +once; you shall have a key of the gate." + +The boy clapped his hands with delight. The key was sent for, and, +meantime, she told him one reason why she had trusted him with it was +because he had been as good as his word about the stable. + +The key was brought, and she held it up half playfully, and said, +"There, sir, I deliver you this upon conditions: you must only use it +when the weather is quite dry, because the grass in the meadow is +longer, and will be wet. Do you promise?" + +"Yes, mamma." + +"And you must always lock the gate when you come back, and bring the +key to one place--let me see--the drawer in the hall table, the one +with marble on it; for you know a place for every thing is our rule. On +these conditions, I hereby deliver you this magic key, with the right +of egress and ingress." + +"Egress and ingress?" + +"Egress and ingress." + +"Is that foreign for cowslips, mamma--and oxlips?" + +"Ha! ha! the child's head is full of cowslips. There is the dictionary; +look out Egress, and afterward look out Ingress." + +When he had added these two words to his little vocabulary, his mother +asked him if he would be good enough to tell her why he did not care +much about all the beautiful flowers in the garden, and was so excited +about cowslips, which appeared to her a flower of no great beauty, and +the smell rather sickly, begging his pardon. + +This question posed him dreadfully: he looked at her in a sort of comic +distress, and then sat gravely down all in a heap, about a yard off, to +think. + +Finally he turned to her with a wry face, and said, "Why _do_ I, +mamma?" + +She smiled deliciously. "No, no, sir," said she. "How can I get inside +your little head and tell what is there? There must be a reason, I +suppose; and you know you and I are never satisfied till we get at the +reason of a thing. But there is no hurry, dear. I give you a week to +find it out. Now, run and open the gate--stay, are there any cows in +that field?" + +"Sometimes, mamma; but they have no horns, you know." + +"Upon your word?" + +"Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, myself." + +"Then run away, darling. But you must come and hunt me up, and tell me +how you enjoyed yourself, because that makes me happy, you know." + +This is mawkish; but it will serve to show on what terms the woman and +boy were. + +On second thoughts, I recall that apology, and defy creation. "THE +MAWKISH" is a branch of literature, a great and popular one, and I have +neglected it savagely. + +Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world was all before him +where to choose. + +He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so attracted him. Horror! +it was all buttercups and deil a cowslip. + +Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty of that +delightful flower scattered about the meadow in thinner patches; and he +gathered a double handful and dirtied his knees. + +Returning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was accosted by a +fluty voice. + +"Little boy!" + +He looked up, and saw a girl standing on the lower bar of a little +wooden gate painted white, looking over. + +_"Please_ bring me my ball," said she, pathetically. + +Compton looked about; and saw a soft ball of many colors lying near. + +He put down his cowslips gravely, and, brought her the ball. He gave it +her with a blush, because she was a strange girl; and she blushed a +little, because he did. + +He returned to his cowslips. + +"Little boy!" said the voice, "please bring me my ball again." + +He brought it her, with undisturbed politeness. She was giggling; he +laughed too, at that. + +"You did it on purpose that time," said he, solemnly. + +"La! you don't think I'd be so wicked," said she. + +Compton shook his head doubtfully, and, considering the interview at an +end turned to go, when instantly the ball knocked his hat off, and +nothing of the malefactress was visible but a black eye sparkling with +fun and mischief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of the +wall. + +This being a challenge, Compton said, "Now you come out after that, and +stand a shot, like a man." + +The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit; the only thing +she put out was her hand, and that she drew in, with a laugh, the +moment he threw at it. + +At this juncture a voice cried, "Ruperta! what are you doing there?" + +Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, implying that he +was to run away; and she herself walked demurely toward the person who +had called her. + +It was three days before Compton saw her again, and then she beckoned +him royally to her. + +"Little boy," said she, "talk to me." + +Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not reply. + +"Stand on this gate, like me, and talk," said she. + +He obeyed the first part of this mandate, and stood on the lower bar of +the little gate; so their two figures made a V, when they hung back, +and a tenpenny nail when they came forward and met, and this motion +they continued through the dialogue; and it was a pity the little +wretches could not keep still, and send for my friend the English +Titian: for, when their heads were in position, it was indeed a pretty +picture of childish and flower-like beauty and contrast; the boy fair, +blue-eyed, and with exquisite golden hair; the girl black-eyed, +black-browed, and with eyelashes of incredible length and beauty, and a +cheek brownish, but tinted, and so glowing with health and vigor that, +pricked with a needle, it seemed ready to squirt carnation right into +your eye. + +She dazzled Master Compton so that he could do nothing but look at her. + +"Well?" said she, smiling. + +"Well," replied he, pretending her "well" was not an interrogatory, but +a concise statement, and that he had discharged the whole duty of man +by according a prompt and cheerful consent. + +"You begin," said the lady. + +"No, you." + +"What for?" + +"Because--I think--you are the cleverest." + +"Good little boy! Well, then, I will. Who are you?" + +"I am Compton. Who are you, please?" + +"I am Ruperta." + +"I never heard that name before." + +"No more did I. I think they measured me for it: you live in the great +house there, don't you?" + +"Yes, Ruperta." + +"Well, then, I live in the little house. It is not very little either. +It's Highmore. I saw you in church one day; is that lady with the hair +your mamma?" + +"Yes, Ruperta." + +"She is beautiful." + +"Isn't she?" + +"But mine is so good." + +"Mine is very good, too, Ruperta. Wonderfully good." + +"I like you, Compton--a little." + +"I like you a good deal, Ruperta." + +"La, do you? I wonder at that: you are like a cherub, and I am such a +black thing." + +"But that is why I like you. Reginald is darker than you, and oh, so +beautiful!" + +"Hum!--he is a very bad boy." + +"No, he is not." + +"Don't tell stories, child; he is. I know all about him. A wicked, +vulgar, bad boy." + +"He is not," cried Compton, almost sniveling; but he altered his mind, +and fired up. "You are a naughty, story-telling girl, to say that." + +"Bless _me!"_ said Ruperta, coloring high, and tossing her head +haughtily. + +"I don't like you _now,_ Ruperta," said Compton, with all the decent +calmness of a settled conviction. + +"You don't!" screamed Ruperta. "Then go about your business directly, +and don't never come here again! Scolding _me!_ How dare you?--oh! oh! +oh!" and the little lady went off slowly, with her finger in her eye; +and Master Compton looked rather rueful, as we all do when this +charming sex has recourse to what may be called "liquid reasoning." I +have known the most solid reasons unable to resist it. + +However, "mens conscia recti," and, above all, the cowslips, enabled +Compton to resist, and he troubled his head no more about her that day. + +But he looked out for her the next day, and she did not come; and that +rather disappointed him. + +The next day was wet, and he did not go into the meadow, being on honor +not to do so. + +The fourth day was lovely, and he spent a long time in the meadow, in +hopes: he saw her for a moment at the gate; but she speedily retired. + +He was disappointed. + +However, he collected a good store of cowslips, and then came home. + +As he passed the door out popped Ruperta from some secret ambush, and +said, "Well?" + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +"WELL," replied Compton. + +"Are you better, dear?" + +"I'm very well, thank you," said the boy. + +"In your mind, I mean. You were cross last time, you know." + +Compton remembered his mother's lessons about manly behavior, and said, +in a jaunty way, "Well, I s'pose I was a little cross." + +Now the other cunning little thing had come to apologize, if there was +no other way to recover her admirer. But, on this confession, she said, +"Oh, if you are sorry for it, I forgive you. You may come and talk." + +Then Compton came and stood on the gate, and they held a long +conversation; and, having quarreled last time, parted now with rather +violent expressions of attachment. + +After that they made friends and laid their little hearts bare to each +other; and it soon appeared that Compton had learned more, but Ruperta +had thought more for herself, and was sorely puzzled about many things, +and of a vastly inquisitive mind. "Why," said she, "is good thing's so +hard, and had things so nice and easy? It would be much better if good +things were nice and bad ones nasty. That is the way I'd have it, if I +could make things." + +Mr. Compton shook his head and said many things were very hard to +understand, and even his mamma sometimes could not make out all the +things. + +"Nor mine neither; I puzzle her dreadful. I can't help that; things +shouldn't come and puzzle me, and then I shouldn't puzzle her. Shall I +tell you my puzzles? and perhaps you can answer them because you are a +boy. I can't think why it is wicked for me to dig in my little garden +on a Sunday, and it isn't wicked for Jessie to cook and Sarah to make +the beds. Can't think why mamma told papa not to be cross, and, when I +told her not to be cross, she put me in a dark cupboard all among the +dreadful mice, till I screamed so she took me out and kissed me and +gave me pie. Can't think why papa called Sally 'Something' for spilling +the ink over his papers, and when I called the gardener the very same +for robbing my flowers, all their hands and eyes went up, and they said +I was a shocking girl. Can't think why papa giggled the next moment, if +I was a shocking girl: it is all puzzle--puzzle--puzzle." + + + +One day she said, "Can you tell me where all the bad people are buried? +for that puzzles me dreadful." + +Compton was posed at first, but said at last he thought they were +buried in the churchyard, along with the good ones. + +"Oh, indeed!" said she, with an air of pity. "Pray, have you ever been +in the churchyard, and read the writings on the stones?" + +"No." + +"Then I have. I have read every single word; and there are none but +good people buried _there,_ not one." She added, rather pathetically, +"You should not answer me without thinking, as if things were easy, +instead of so hard. Well, one comfort, there are not many wicked people +hereabouts; they live in towns; so I suppose they are buried in the +garden, poor things, or put in the water with a stone." + +Compton had no more plausible theory ready, and declined to commit +himself to Ruperta's; so that topic fell to the ground. + +One day he found her perched as usual, but with her bright little face +overclouded. + +By this time the intelligent boy was fond enough of her to notice her +face. "What's the matter, Perta?" + +"Ruperta. The matter? Puzzled again! It is very serious this time." + +"Tell me, Ruperta." + +"No, dear." + +"Please." + +The young lady fixed her eyes on him, and said, with a pretty +solemnity, "Let us play at catechism." + +"I don't know that game." + +"The governess asks questions, and the good little boy answers. That's +catechism. I'm the governess." + +"Then I'm the good little boy." + +"Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face." + +"There--you're very pretty, Ruperta." + +"Don't be giddy; I'm hideous; so behave, and answer all my questions. +Oh, I'm so unhappy. Answer me, is young people, or old people, +goodest?" + +"You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. Why, old people, to be +sure--much." + +"So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. Then your papa and mine +are much betterer--will that do?--than we are?" + +"Of course they are." + +"There he goes! Such a child for answering slap bang I never." + +"I'm not a child. I'm older than you are, Ruperta." + +"That's a story." + +"Well, then, I'm as old; for Mary says we were born the same day--the +same hour--the same minute." + +"La! we are twins." + +She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found reason to doubt +her hasty conclusion. "No such thing," said she: "they tell me the +bells were ringing for you being found, and then I was found--to +catechism you." + +"There! then you see I _am_ older than you, Ruperta." + +"Yes, dear," said Ruperta, very gravely; "I'm younger in my body, but +older in my head." + +This matter being settled so that neither party could complain, since +antiquity was evenly distributed, the catechizing recommenced. + +"Do you believe in 'Let dogs delight?'" + +"I don't know." + +"What!" screamed Ruperta. "Oh, you wicked boy! Why, it comes next after +the Bible." + +"Then I do believe it," said Compton, who, to tell the truth, had been +merely puzzled by the verb, and was not afflicted with any doubt that +the composition referred to was a divine oracle. + +"Good boy!" said Ruperta, patronizingly. "Well, then, this is what +puzzles me; your papa and mine don't believe in 'Dogs delight.' They +have been quarreling this twelve years and more, and mean to go on, in +spite of mamma. She _is_ good. Didn't you know that your papa and mine +are great enemies?" + +"No, Ruperta. Oh, what a pity!" + +"Don't, Compton, don't: there, you have made me cry." + +He set himself to console her. + +She consented to be consoled. + +But she said, with a sigh, "What becomes of old people being better +than young ones, now? Are you and I bears and lions? Do we scratch out +each other's eyes? It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead! +Nurse says, when I'm dead I shall understand it all. But I don't know; +I saw a dead cat once, and she didn't seem to know as much as before; +puzzle, puzzle. Compton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven?" + +"No." + +"Then the sooner we both go there, the better." + +"Yes, but not just now." + +"Why not?" + +"Because of the cowslips." + +"Here's a boy! What, would you rather be among the cowslips than the +angels? and think of the diamonds and pearls that heaven is paved +with." + +"But _you_ mightn't be there." + +"What! Am I a wicked girl, then--wickeder than you, that is a boy?" + +"Oh no, no, no; but see how big it is up there;" they cast their eyes +up, and, taking the blue vault for creation, were impressed with its +immensity. "I know where to find you here, but up there you might be +ever so far off me." + +"La! so I might. Well, then, we had better keep quiet. I suppose we +shall get wiser as we get older. But Compton, I'm so sorry your papa +and mine are bears and lions. Why doesn't the clergyman scold them?" + +"Nobody dare scold my papa," said Compton, proudly. Then, after +reflection, "Perhaps, when we are older, we may persuade them to make +friends. I think it is very stupid to quarrel; don't you?" + +"As stupid as an owl." + +"You and I had a quarrel once, Ruperta." + +"Yes, you misbehaved." + +"No, no; you were cross." + +"Story! Well, never mind: we _did_ quarrel. And you were miserable +directly." + +"Not so very," said Compton, tossing his head. + +"I _was,_ then," said Ruperta, with unguarded candor. + +"So was I." + +"Good boy! Kiss me, dear." + +"There--and there--and there--and--" + +"That will do. I want to talk, Compton." + +"Yes, dear." + +"I'm not very sure, but I rather think I'm in love with you--a little, +little bit, you know." + +"And I'm sure I'm in love with you, Ruperta." + +"Over head an' ears?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate! If it wasn't for +that, I could run in the meadow with you; and marry you perhaps, and so +gather cowslips together for ever and ever." + +"Let us open it." + +"You can't." + +"Let us try." + +"I have. It won't be opened." + +"Let _me_ try. Some gates want to be lifted up a little, and then they +will open. There, I told you so." + +The gate came open. + +Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then drew back. + +"I'm afraid, Compton," said she, "papa would be angry," + +She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young gentleman, having a +strong sense of filial duty, omitted so to do. + +When she saw he would not persuade her, she dispensed. "Come along," +said she, "if it is only for five minutes." + +She took his hand, and away they scampered. He showed her the cowslips, +the violets, and all the treasures of the meadow; but it was all hurry, +and skurry, and excitement; no time to look at anything above half a +minute, for fear of being found out: and so, at last, back to the gate, +beaming with stolen pleasure, glowing and sparkling with heat and +excitement. + +The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and then, after saying she +must go for about an hour, marched demurely back to the house. + +After one or two of these hasty trips, impunity gave her a sense of +security, and, the weather getting warm, she used to sit in the meadow +with her beau and weave wreaths of cowslips, and place them in her +black hair, and for Comp-ton she made coronets of bluebells, and +adorned his golden head. + +And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle to him, and lean +her head, with all the feminine grace of a mature woman, on his +shoulder. + +Said she, "A boy's shoulder does very nice for a girl to put her nose +on." + +One day the aspiring girl asked him what was that forest. + +"That is Bassett's wood." + +"I will go there with you some day, when papa is out." + +"I'm afraid that is too far for you," said Compton. + +"Nothing is too far for me," replied the ardent girl. "Why, how far is +it?" + +"More than half a mile." + +"Is it very big?" + +"Immense." + +"Belong to the queen?" + +"No, to papa." + +"Oh!" + +And here my reader may well ask what was Lady Bassett about, or did +Compton, with all his excellent teaching, conceal all this from his +mother and his friend. + +On the contrary, he went open-mouthed to her and told her he had seen +such a pretty little girl, and gave her a brief account of their +conversation. + +Lady Bassett was startled at first, and greatly perplexed. She told him +he must on no account go to her; if he spoke to her, it must be on +papa's ground. She even made him pledge his honor to that. + +More than that she did not like to say. She thought it unnecessary and +undesirable to transmit to another generation the unhappy feud by which +she had suffered so much, and was even then suffering. Moreover, she +was as much afraid of Richard Bassett as ever. If he chose to tell his +girl not to speak to Compton, he might. She was resolved not to go out +of her way to affront him, through his daughter. Besides, that might +wound Mrs. Bassett, if it got round to her ears; and, although she had +never spoken to Mrs. Bassett, yet their eyes had met in church, and +always with a pacific expression. Indeed, Lady Bassett felt sure she +had read in that meek woman's face a regret that they were not friends, +and could not be friends, because of their husbands. Lady Bassett, +then, for these reasons, would not forbid Compton to be kind to Ruperta +in moderation. + +Whether she would have remained as neutral had she known how far these +young things were going, is quite another matter; but Compton's +narratives to her were, naturally enough, very tame compared with the +reality, and she never dreamed that two seven-year-olds could form an +attachment so warm, as these little plagues were doing. + +And, to conclude, about the time when Mr. Compton first opened the gate +for his inamorata, Lady Bassett's mind was diverted, in some degree, +even from her beloved boy Compton, by a new trouble, and a host of +passions it excited in her own heart. + +A thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles Bassett, in the form of a letter +from Reginald's tutor, informing him that Reginald and another lad had +been caught wiring hares in a wood at some distance and were now in +custody. + +Sir Charles mounted his horse and rode to the place, leaving Lady +Bassett a prey to great anxiety and bitter remorse. + +Sir Charles came back in two days, with the galling news that his son +and heir was in prison for a month, all his exertions having only +prevailed to get the case summarily dealt with. + +Reginald's companion, a young gypsy, aged seventeen, had got three +months, it being assumed that he was the tempter: the reverse was the +case, though. + +When Sir Charles told Lady Bassett all this, with a face of agony, and +a broken voice, her heart almost burst: she threw every other +consideration to the winds. + +"Charles," she cried, "I can't bear it: I can't see your heart wrung +any more, and your affections blighted. Tear that young viper out of +your breast: don't go on wasting your heart's blood on a stranger; HE +IS NOT YOUR SON." + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +AT this monstrous declaration, from the very lips of the man's wife, +there was a dead silence, Sir Charles being struck dumb, and Lady +Bassett herself terrified at the sound of the words she had uttered. + +After a terrible pause, Sir Charles fixed his eyes on her, with an +awful look, and said, very slowly, "Will--you--have--the--goodness-- +to--say that again? but first think what you are saying." + +This made Lady Bassett shake in every limb; indeed the very flesh of +her body quivered. Yet she persisted, but in a tone that of itself +showed how fast her courage was oozing. She faltered out, almost +inaudibly, "I say you must waste no more love on him--he is not your +son." + +Sir Charles looked at her to see if she was in her senses: it was not +the first time he had suspected her of being deranged on this one +subject. But no: she was pale as death, she was cringing, wincing, +quivering, and her eyes roving to and fro; a picture not of frenzy, but +of guilt unhardened. + +He began to tremble in his turn, and was so horror-stricken and +agitated that he could hardly speak. "Am I dreaming?" he gasped. + +Lady Bassett saw the storm she had raised, and would have given the +world to recall her words. + +"Whose is he, then?" asked Sir Charles, in a voice scarcely human. + +"I don't know," said Lady Bassett doggedly. + +"Then how dare you say that he isn't mine?" + +"Kill me, Charles," cried she, passionately; "but don't look at me so +and speak to me so. Why I say he is not yours, is he like you either in +face or mind?" + +"And he is like--whom?" + +Lady Bassett had lost all her courage by this time: she whimpered out, +"Like nobody except the gypsies." + +"Bella, this is a subject which will part you and me for life unless we +can agree upon it--" + +No reply, in words, from Lady Bassett. + +"So please let us understand each other. Your son is not my son. Is +that what you look me in the face and tell me?" + +"Charles, I never said _that._ How could he be my son, and not be +yours?" + +And she raised her eyes, and looked him full in the face: nor fear nor +cringing now: the woman was majestic. + +Sir Charles was a little alarmed in his turn; for his wife's soft eyes +flamed battle for the first time in her life. + +"Now you talk sense," said he; "if he is yours, he is mine; and, as he +is certainly yours, this is a very foolish conversation, which must not +be renewed, otherwise--" + +"I shall be insulted by my own husband?" + +"I think it very probable. And, as I do not choose you to be insulted, +nor to think yourself insulted, I forbid you ever to recur to this +subject." + +"I will obey, Charles; but let me say one word first. When I was alone +in London, and hardly sensible, might not this child have been imposed +upon me and you? I'm sure he was." + +"By whom?" + +"How can I tell? I was alone--that woman in the house had a bad +face--the gypsies do these things, I've heard." + +"The gypsies! And why not the fairies?" said Sir Charles, +contemptuously. "Is that all you have to suggest--before we close the +subject forever?" + +"Yes," said Lady Bassett sorrowfully. "I see you take me for a +mad-woman; but time will show. Oh that I could persuade you to detach +your affections from that boy--he will break your heart else--and rest +them on the children that resemble us in mind and features." + +"These partialities are allowed to mothers; but a father must be just. +Reginald is my first-born; he came to me from Heaven at a time when I +was under a bitter trial, and from the day he was born till this day I +have been a happy man. It is not often a father owes so much to a son +as I do to my darling boy. He is dear to my heart in spite of his +faults; and now I pity him, as well as love him, since it seems he has +only one parent, poor little fellow!" + +Lady Bassett opened her mouth to reply, but could not. She raised her +hands in mute despair, then quietly covered her face with them, and +soon the tears trickled through her white fingers. + +Sir Charles looked at her, and was touched at her silent grief. + +"My darling wife," said he, "I think this is the only thing you and I +cannot agree upon. Why not be wise as well as loving, and avoid it." + +"I will never seek it again," sobbed Lady Bassett. "But oh," she cried, +with sudden wildness, "something tells me it will meet me, and follow +me, and rob me of my husband. Well, when that day comes, I shall know +how to die." + +And with this she burst away from him, like some creature who has been +stung past endurance. + +Sir Charles often meditated on this strange scene: turn it how he could +he came back to the same conclusion, that she must have an +hallucination on this subject. He said to himself, "If Bella really +believed the boy was a changeling, she would act upon her conviction, +she would urge me to take some steps to recover our true child, whom +the gypsies or the fairies have taken, and given us poor dear Reginald +instead." + +But still the conversation, and her strange looks of terror, lay +dormant in his mind: both were too remarkable to be ever forgotten. +Such things lie like certain seeds, awaiting only fresh accidents to +spring into life. + +The month rolled away, and the day came for Reginald's liberation. A +dogcart was sent for him, and the heir of the Bassetts emerged from a +county jail, and uttered a whoop of delight; he insisted on driving, +and went home at a rattling pace. + +He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Huntercombe Hall; and +then it suddenly occurred to his mercurial mind that he should probably +not be received with an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in that +ancient house whose representative he was. + +When he did get there he found the whole family in such a state of +commotion that his return was hardly noticed at all. + + + +Master Compton's dinner hour was two P.M., and yet, at three o'clock of +this day, he did not come in. + +This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her some little anxiety; +for she suspected he might possibly be in the company of Ruperta +Bassett; and, although she did not herself much object to that, she +objected very much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So she went +herself to the end of the lawn, and out into the meadow, that a servant +might not find the young people together, if her suspicion was correct. + +She went into the meadow and called "Compton! Compton!" as loud as she +could, but there was no reply. + +Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent servants about in +all directions. + +But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The thing looked +serious. + +She sent out grooms well mounted to scour the country. One of these +fell in with Sir Charles, who thereupon came home and found his wife in +a pitiable state. She was sitting in an armchair, trembling and crying +hysterically. + +She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a vise. + +"It is Richard Bassett!" she cried. "He knows how to wound and kill me. +He has stolen our child." + +Sir Charles hurried out, and, soon after that, Reginald arrived, and +stood awe-struck at her deplorable condition. + +Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed Reginald, told him in +three words his brother was missing, and then informed Lady Bassett +that he had learned something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett's +little girl had also disappeared, and his people were out looking after +her. + +"Ah, they are together," cried Lady Bassett. + +"Together? a son of mine consorting with that viper's brood!" + +"What does that poor child know? Oh, find him for me, if you love that +dear child's mother!'" + +Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the door by a servant, +who blurted out, "The men have dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, and +they want to know if they shall drag the brook." + +"Hold your tongue, idiot!" cried Sir Charles, and thrust him out; but +the wiseacre had not spoken in vain. Lady Bassett moaned, and went into +worse hysterics, with nobody near her but Reginald. + +That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, and not being +hardened at all points, uttered a sympathetic howl, and flung his arms +round her neck. "Oh! oh! oh! Don't cry, mamma." + +Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel him. + +"I'll find him for you," said the boy, "if you will leave off crying." + +She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as before. + +"Mamma," said he, getting impatient, "do listen to me. I'll find him +easy enough, if you will only listen." + +"You! you!" and she stared wildly at him. + +"Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. I'm a poacher. Just +you put me on to his track. I'll soon run into him, if he is above +ground." + +"A child like you!" cried Lady Bassett; "how can you do that?" and she +began to wring her hands again. + +"I'll show you," said the boy, getting very impatient, "if you will +just leave off crying like a great baby, and come to any place you like +where he has been to-day and left a mark--" + +"Ah!" cried Lady Bassett. + +"I'm a poacher," repeated Reginald, quite proudly; "you forget that." + +"Come with me," cried Lady Bassett, starting up. She whipped on her +bonnet, and ran with him down the lawn. + +"There, Reginald," said she, panting, "I think my darling was here this +afternoon; yes, yes, he must; for he had a key of the door, and it is +open." + +"All right," said Reginald; "come into the field." + +He ran about like a dog hunting, and soon found marks among the +cowslips. + +"Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day," said he; "now, +mamma, there's only two ways put of this field--let us go straight to +that gate; that is the likeliest." + +Near the gate was some clay, and Reginald showed her several prints of +small feet. + +"Look," said he, "here's the track of two--one's a gal; how I know, +here's a sole to this shoe no wider nor a knife. Come on." + +In the next field he was baffled for a long time; but at last he found +a place in a dead hedge where they had gone through. + +"See," said he, "these twigs are fresh broken, and here's a bit of the +gal's frock. Oh! won't she catch it?": + +"Oh, you brave, clever boy!" cried Lady Bassett. + +"Come on!" shouted the urchin. + +He hunted like a beagle, and saw like a bird, with his savage, +glittering eye. He was on fire with the ardor of the chase; and, not to +dwell too long on what has been so often and so well written by others, +in about an hour and a half he brought the anxious, palpitating, but +now hopeful mother, to the neighborhood of Bassett's wood. Here he +trusted to his own instinct. "They have gone into the wood," said he, +"and I don't blame 'em. I found my way here long before his age. I say, +don't you tell; I've snared plenty of the governor's hares in that +wood." + +He got to the edge of the wood and ran down the side. At last he found +the marks of small feet on a low bank, and, darting over it, discovered +the fainter traces on some decaying leaves inside the wood. + +"There," said he; "now it is just as if you had got them in your +pocket, for they'll never find their way out of this wood. Bless your +heart, why _I_ used to get lost in it at first." + +"Lost in the wood!" cried Lady Bassett; "but he will die of fear, or be +eaten by wild beasts; and it is getting so dark." + +"What about that? Night or day is all one to me. What will you give me +if I find him before midnight?" + +"Anything I've got in the world." + +"Give me a sovereign?" + +"A thousand!" + +"Give me a kiss?" + +"A hundred!" + +"Then I'll tell you what I'll do--I don't mind a little trouble, to +stop your crying, mamma, because you are the right sort. I'll get the +village out, and we will tread the wood with torches, an' all for them +as can't see by night; I can see all one; and you shall have your kid +home to supper. You see, there's a heavy dew, and he is not like me, +that would rather sleep in this wood than the best bed in London city; +a night in a wood would about settle his hash. So here goes. I can run +a mile in six minutes and a half." + +With these words, the strange boy was off like an arrow from a bow. + +Lady Bassett, exhausted by anxiety and excitement, was glad to sit +down; her trembling heart would not let her leave the place that she +now began to hope contained her child. She sat down and waited +patiently. + +The sun set, the moon rose, the stars glittered; the infinite leaves +stood out dark and solid, as if cut out of black marble; all was dismal +silence and dread suspense to the solitary watcher. + +Yet the lady of Huntercombe Hall sat on, sick at heart, but patient, +beneath that solemn sky. + +She shuddered a little as the cold dews gathered on her, for she was a +woman nursed in luxury's lap; but she never moved. + +The silence was dismal. Had that wild boy forgotten his promise, or +were there no parents in the village, that their feet lagged so? + +It was nearly ten o'clock, when her keen ears, strained to the utmost, +discovered a faint buzzing of voices; but where she could not tell. + +The sounds increased and increased, and then there was a temporary +silence; and after that a faint hallooing in the wood to her right. The +wood was five hundred acres, and the bulk of it lay in front and to her +left. + +The hallooing got louder and louder; the whole wood seemed to echo; her +heart beat high; lights glimmered nearer and nearer, hares and rabbits +pattered by and startled her, and pheasants thundered off their roosts +with an incredible noise, owls flitted, and bats innumerable, disturbed +and terrified by the glaring lights and loud resounding halloos. + +Nearer, nearer came the sounds, till at last a line of men and boys, +full fifty carrying torches and lanterns, came up, and lighted up the +dew-spangled leaves, and made the mother's heart leap with joyful hope +at succor so powerful. + +Oh, she could have kissed the stout village blacksmith, whose deep +sonorous lungs rang close to her. Never had any man's voice sounded to +her so like a god's as this stout blacksmith's "hilloop! hilloop!" +close and loud in her ear, and those at the end of the line hallooed +"hillo-op; hillo-op!" like an echo; and so they passed on, through bush +and brier, till their voices died away in the distance. + +A boy detached himself from the line, and ran to Lady Bassett with a +traveling rug. It was Reginald. + +"You put on this," said he. He shook it, and, standing on tiptoe, put +it over her shoulders. + +"Thank you, dear," said she. "Where is papa?" + +"Oh, he is in the line, and the Highmore swell and all." + +"Mr. Richard Bassett?" + +"Air, his kid is out on the loose, as well as ours." + +"Oh, Reginald, if they should quarrel!" + +"Why, our governor can lick him, can't he?" + + +CHAPTER XL. + +"OH, don't talk so. I wouldn't for all the world they should quarrel." + +"Well, we have got enough fellows to part them if they do." + +"Dear Reginald, you have been so good to me, and you are so clever; +speak to some of the men, and let there be no more quarreling between +papa and that man." + +"All right," said the boy. + +"On second thoughts take me to papa; I'll be by his side, and then they +cannot." + +"You want to walk through the wood? that is a good joke. Why, it is +like walking through a river, and the young wood slapping your eyes, +for you can't see every twig by this light, and the leaves sponging +your face and shoulders: and the briers would soon strip your gown into +ribbons, and make your little ankles bleed. No, you are a lady; you +stay where you are, and let us men work it. We shan't find him yet +awhile. I must get near the governor. When we find my lord, I'll give a +whistle you could hear a mile off." + +"Oh, Reginald, are you sure he is in the wood?" + +"I'd bet my head to a chany orange. You might as well ask me, when I +track a badger to his hole, and no signs of his going out again, +whether old long-claws is there. I wish I was as sure of never going +back to school as I am of finding that little lot. The only thing I +don't like is, the young muff's not giving us a halloo back. But, any +way, I'll find 'em, _alive or dead."_ + +And, with this pleasing assurance, the little imp scudded off, leaving +the mother glued to the spot with terror. + +For full an hour more the torches gleamed, though fainter and fainter; +and so full was the wood of echoes, that the voices, though distant, +seemed to halloo all round the agonized mother. + +But presently there was a continuous yell, quite different from the +isolated shouts, a distant but unmistakable howl of victory that made a +bolt of ice shoot down her back, and then her heart to glow like fire. + +It was followed by a keen whistle. + +She fell on her knees and thanked God for her boy. + + + +In the middle of this wood was a shallow excavation, an old chalk-pit, +unused for many years. It was never deep, and had been half filled up +with dead leaves; these, once blown into the hollow, or dropped from +the trees, had accumulated. + +The very middle of the line struck on this place, and Moss, the old +keeper, who was near the center, had no sooner cast his eyes into it +than he halted, and uttered a stentorian halloo well known to +sportsmen--"SEE HO!" + + + +A dead halt, a low murmur, and in a very few seconds the line was a +circle, and all the torches that had not expired held high in a flaming +ring over the prettiest little sight that wood had ever presented. + +The old keeper had not given tongue on conjecture, like some youthful +hound. In a little hollow of leaves, which the boy had scraped out, lay +Master Compton and Miss Ruperta, on their little backs, each with an +arm round the other's neck, enjoying the sweet sound sleep of infancy, +which neither the horror of their situation--babes in the wood--nor the +shouts of fifty people had in the smallest degree disturbed; to be +sure, they had undergone great fatigue. + +Young master wore a coronet of bluebells on his golden bead, young miss +a wreath of cowslips on her ebon locks. The pair were flowers, cherubs, +children--everything that stands for young, tender, and lovely. + +The honest villagers gaped, and roared in chorus, and held high their +torches, and gazed with reverential delight. Not for them was it to +finger the little gentlefolks, but only to devour them with admiring +eyes. + +Indeed, the picture was carried home to many a humble hearth, and is +spoken of to this day in Huntercombe village. + +But the pale and anxious fathers were in no state to see pictures--they +only saw their children Sir Charles and Richard Bassett came round with +the general rush, saw, and dashed into the pit. + +Strange to say, neither knew the other was there. Each seized his +child, and tore it away from the contact of the other child, as if from +a viper; in which natural but harsh act they saw each other for the +first time, and their eyes gleamed in a moment with hate and defiance +over their loving children. + +Here was a picture of a different kind, and if the melancholy Jaques, +or any other gentleman with a foible for thinking in a wood; had been +there, methinks he had moralized very prettily on the hideousness of +hate and the beauty of the sentiment it had interrupted so fiercely. +But it escaped this sort of comment for about eight years. Well, all +this woke the bairns; the lights dazzled them, the people scared them. +Each hid a little face on the paternal shoulder. + +The fathers, like wild beasts, each carrying off a lamb, withdrew, +glaring at each other; but the very next moment the stronger and better +sentiment prevailed, and they kissed and blessed their restored +treasures, and forgot their enemies for a time. + +Sir Charles's party followed him, and supped at Huntercombe, every man +Jack of them. + +Reginald, who had delivered a terrific cat-call, now ran off to Lady +Bassett. There she was, still on her knees. + +"Found! found!" he shouted. + +She clasped him in her arms and wept for joy. + +"My eyes!" said he, "what a one you are to cry! You come home; you'll +catch your death o' cold." + +"No, no; take me to my child at once." + +"Can't be done; the governor has carried him off through the wood; and +I ain't a going to let you travel the wood. You come with me; we'll go +the short cut, and be home as soon as them." + +She complied, though trembling all over. + +On the way he told her where the children had been discovered, and in +what attitude. + +"Little darlings!" said she. "But he has frightened his poor mother, +and nearly broken her heart. Oh!" + +"If you cry any more, mamma--Shut up, I tell you!" + +_"Must_ I? Oh!" + +"Yes, or you'll catch pepper." + +Then he pulled her along, gabbling all the time. "Those two swells +didn't quarrel after all, you see." + +"Thank Heaven!" + +"But they looked at each other like hobelixes, and pulled the kids away +like pison. Ha! ha! I say, the young 'uns ain't of the same mind as the +old 'uns. I say, though, our Compton is not a bad sort; I'm blowed if +he hadn't taken off his tippet to put round his gal. I say, don't you +think that little chap has begun rather early? Why, _I_ didn't trouble +my head about the gals till I was eleven years old." + +Lady Bassett was too much agitated to discuss these delicate little +questions just then. + +She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. "Oh, you good, brave, +clever boy!" said she. + +Then she stopped a moment to kiss him heartily. "I shall never forget +this night, dear. I shall always make excuses for you. Oh, shall we +never get home?" + +"We shall be home as soon as they will," said Reginald. "Come on." + +He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has probably had enough +of his millclack. + +Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a large fire in +Compton's bedroom, when Sir Charles came in, bringing the boy. + +The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her knees, with her arms +out, as only a mother can stretch them to her child. + +There was not a word of scolding that night. He had made her suffer; +but what of that? She had no egotism; she was a true mother. Her boy +had been lost, and was found; and she was the happiest soul in +creation. + +But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both intensely +mortified, and took measures to keep those little lovers apart in +future. Richard Bassett locked up his gate: Sir Charles padlocked his; +and they both told their wives they really must be more vigilant. The +poor children, being in disgrace, did not venture to remonstrate! But +they used often to think of each other, and took a liking to the +British Sunday; for then they saw each other in church. + +By-and-by even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was sent to school, and +passed her holidays at the sea-side. + + + +To return to Reginald, he was compelled to change his clothes that +evening, but was allowed to sit up, and, when the heads of the house +were a little calmer, became the hero of the night. + +Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, "Reginald, you +have begun a new life to-day, and begun it well. Let us forget the +past, and start fresh to-day, with the love and gratitude of both your +parents." + +The boy hung his head and said nothing in reply. + +Lady Bassett came to his assistance. "He will; he will. Don't say a +word about the past. He is a good, brave, beautiful boy, and I adore +him." + +"And I like you, mamma," said Reginald graciously. + +From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bassett; and Heaven knows, +she had no sinecure; poor Reginald's virtues were too eccentric to +balance his faults for long together. His parents could not have a +child lost in a wood every day; but good taste and propriety can be +offended every hour when one is so young, active, and savage as Master +Reginald. + +He was up at five, and doing wrong all day. + +Hours in the stables, learning to talk horsey, and smell dunghilly. + +Hours in the village, gossiping and romping. + +In good company, an owl. + +In bad, or low company, a cricket, a nightingale, a magpie. + +He was seen at a neighboring fair, playing the fiddle in a booth to +dancing yokels, and receiving their pence. + +He was caught by Moss wiring hairs in Bassett's wood, within twenty +yards of the place where he had found the babes in the wood so nobly. + +Remonstrated with tenderly and solemnly, he informed Sir Charles that +poaching was a thing he could not live without, and he modestly asked +to have Bassett's wood given him to poach in, offering, as a +consideration, to keep all other poachers out: as a greater inducement, +he represented that he should not require a house, but only a coarse +sheet to stretch across an old saw-pit, and a pair of blankets for +winter use--one under, one over. + +Sir Charles was often sad, sometimes indignant. + +Lady Bassett excused each enormity with pathetic ingenuity; excused, +but suffered, and indeed pined visibly, for all this time he was +tormenting her as few women in her position have been tormented. Her +life was a struggle of contesting emotions; she was wounded, harassed, +perplexed, and so miserable, she would have welcomed death, that her +husband might read that Manuscript and cease to suffer, and she escape +the shame of confessing, and of living after it. + +In one word, she was expiating. + +Neither the excuses she made nor the misery she suffered escaped Sir +Charles. + +He said to her at last, "My own Bella, this unhappy boy is killing you. +Dear as he is to me, you are dearer. I must send him away again." + +"He saved our darling," said she, faintly, but she could say no more. +He had exhausted excuse. + +Sir Charles made inquiries everywhere, and at last his attention was +drawn to the following advertisement in the _Times:_ + + + +UNMANAGEABLE, Backward, or other BOYS, carefully TRAINED, and EDUCATED, +by a married rector. Home comforts. Moderate terms. Address Dr. +Beecher, Fennymore, Cambridgeshire. + + + +He wrote to this gentleman, and the correspondence was encouraging. +"These scapegraces," said the artist in tuition, "are like crab-trees; +abominable till you graft them, and then they bear the best fruit." + +While the letters were passing, came a climax. Reckless Reginald could +keep no bounds intact: his inward definition of a boundary was "a thing +you should go a good way out of your way rather than not overleap." + +Accordingly, he was often on Highmore farm at night, and even in +Highmore garden; the boundary wall tempted him so. + +One light but windy night, when everybody that could put his head under +cover, and keep it there, did, reckless Reginald was out enjoying the +fresh breezes; he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, to +see what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he speedily discovered a +bright light in Highmore dining-room. + +He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly over the grass and +peered in at the window. + +He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it; on that table, and gleaming +in that light, were several silver vessels of rare size and +workmanship, and Mr. Bassett, with his coat off, and a green baize +apron on, was cleaning one of these with brush and leather. He had +already cleaned the others, for they glittered prodigiously. + +Reginald's black eye gloated and glittered at this unexpected display +of wealth in so dazzling a form. + +But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When Mr. Bassett had +done with that piece of plate he went to the paneled wall, and opened a +door so nicely adapted to the panels, that a stranger would hardly have +discovered it. Yet it was an enormous door, and, being opened, revealed +a still larger closet, lined with green velvet and fitted with shelves +from floor to ceiling. + +Here shone, in all their glory, the old plate of two good families: +that is to say, half the old plate of the Bassetts, and all the old +plate of the Goodwyns, from whom came Highmore to Richard Bassett +through his mother Ruperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; so +named after her aunt; so named after her godmother; so named after her +father, Prince Rupert, cavalier, chemist, glass-blower, etc., etc. + +The wall seemed ablaze with suns and moons, for many of the chased +goblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt: none of your filmy +electro-plate, but gold laid on thick, by the old mercurial process, in +days when they that wrought in precious metals were honest--for want of +knowing how to cheat. + +Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of gold suns and +silver moons, and trembling with Bohemian excitement, reckless Reginald +heard not a stealthy step upon the grass behind him. + +He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doctrine of shadows. + +The Scotch servant saw from a pantry window the shadow of a cap +projected on the grass, with a face, and part of a body. She stepped +out, and got upon the grass. + +Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as cunning; and, owing +to the wind and his absorption, stole on him unheard, and pinned him +with her strong hands by both his shoulders. + +Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and administered a back kick +that made Jessie limp for two days, and scream very lustily for the +present. + +Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee-pot with a +crash and a tinkle, and ran out directly, and secured young Hopeful, +who thereupon began to quake and remonstrate. + +"I was only taking a look," said he. "Where's the harm of that?" + +"You were trespassing, sir," said Richard Bassett. + +"What is the harm of that, governor? You can come over all our place, +for what I care." + +"Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place." + +"Well, I don't. I say, old chap, don't hit me. 'Twas I put 'em all on +the scent of your kid, you know." + +"So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits." + +"Don't it? You ain't such a bad sort, after all." + +"Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here again, that will be +a fresh account, and I shall open it with a horsewhip." + +He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like the wind. When he +was gone, Richard Bassett became rather uneasy. He had hitherto +concealed, even from his own family, the great wealth his humble home +contained. His secret was now public. Reginald had no end of low +companions. If burglars got scent of this, it might be very awkward. At +last he hit upon a defense. He got one of those hooks ending in a screw +which are used for pictures, and screwed it into the inside of the +cupboard door near the top. To this he fastened a long piece of catgut, +and carried it through the floor. His bed was just above the cupboard +door, and he attached the gut to a bell by his bedside. By this means +nobody could open that cupboard without ringing in his ears. + +Jessie told Tom, Tom told Maria and Harriet; Harriet and Maria told +everybody; somebody told Sir Charles. He was deeply mortified. + +"You young idiot!" said he, "would nothing less than this serve your +turn? must you go and lower me and yourself by giving just offense to +my one enemy?--the man I hate and despise, and who is always on the +watch to injure or affront me. Oh, who would be a father! There, pack +up your things; you will go to school next morning at eight o'clock." + +Mr. Reginald packed accordingly, but that did not occupy long; so he +sallied forth, and, taking for granted that it was Richard Bassett who +had been so mean as to tell, he purchased some paint and brushes and a +rope, and languished until midnight. + +But when that magic hour came he was brisk as a bee, let himself down +from his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett's front door, and +inscribed thereon, in large and glaring letters, + +"JERRY SNEAK, ESQ., Tell-Tale Tit." + +He then returned home much calmed and comforted, climbed up his rope +and into his room, and there slept sweetly, as one who had discharged +his duty to his neighbor and society in general. + +In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried the grooms, and +was off before the appointed time. + +Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young Hopeful gone, without +the awkward ceremony of leave-taking. + +Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his table, and among +them one rarer to him than ortolan, pin-tail, or wild turkey (in which +last my soul delights); for he found a letter from Richard Bassett, +Esq. + + + +"SIR--Some nights since we caught your successor that is to be, at my +dining-room window, prying into my private affairs. Having the honor of +our family at heart, I was about to administer a little wholesome +correction, when he reminded me he had been instrumental in tracking +Miss Bassett, and thereby rescuing her: upon this I was, naturally, +mollified, and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen the +last of him at Highmore. + +"This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, and as Mr. +Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yesterday afternoon, it is +doubtless to him I am indebted for them. + +"I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put them down to +your credit, and your son's. + +"Your obedient servant, + +"RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that morning; so Sir +Charles digested this dish in solitude. + +He was furious with Reginald; but as Richard Bassett's remonstrance was +intended to insult him, he wrote back as follows: + + + +"SIR--I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should descend to look in +at your windows, or to write anything whatever upon your door; and I +will take care it shall never recur. + +"Yours obediently, + +"CHARLES DYKE BASSETT." + + + +This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the coals of hatred +between the cousins. + + + +Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar in his new master. + +That gentleman punished him severely for every breach of discipline. +The study was a cool dark room, with one window looking north, and that +window barred. Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time, +upon the slightest escapade. + +Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewailing his lot, and +praying to be removed. + +Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of Mr. Richard +Bassett's letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher at the same time, expressing +his full approval. + +Thus disciplined, the boy began to change; he became moody, sullen, +silent, and even sleepy. This was the less wonderful, that he generally +escaped at night to a gypsy camp, and courted a gypsy girl, who was +nearly as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far more +knowing. + +His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon knew all about +him and his parents. + +One morning the servants got up supernaturally early, to wash. Mr. +Reginald was detected stealing back to his roost, and reported to the +master. + +Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the study alone, put +the other students into the drawing-room, and erected bars to his +bedroom window. + +A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a cage. + +A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to the servants, +and wormed out the truth. + +Then she came at night under his window, and made him a signal. He told +her his hard case, and told her also a resolution he had come to. She +informed the tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up to +him; in two nights he was through the bars; the third he was free, and +joined his sable friends. + +They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, asses, tents, and +baggage, and were many miles away by daybreak, without troubling +turnpikes. + +The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher half hoped he might +come back; still he sent to the nearest station, and telegraphed to +Huntercombe. + +Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once into +Cambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and learned that the boy had +been seen consorting with a tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, that +these were rather high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that they +dealt in horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two of the girls +were handsome, and also singers. + +Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; wrote to the mayors +of towns; advertised, with full description and large reward, and +brought such pressure to bear upon the Egyptians, that the band begin +to fear: they consulted, and took measures for their own security; none +too soon, for, they being encamped on Grey's Common in Oxfordshire, Sir +Charles and the rural police rode into the camp and demanded young +Hopeful. + +They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew nothing of the +matter, and, with injured innocence, invited a full inspection. + +The invitation was accepted. + +Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be struck with an +idea. "It is the young gentleman who wanted to join us in +Cambridgeshire." + +Then all their throats opened at once. "Yes, gentleman, there was a +lovely young gentleman wanted to come with us; but we wouldn't have +him. What could we do with him?" + +Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and continued his researches, +telegraphing Lady Bassett twice every day. + +A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no longer young, but +still a striking figure: had once, no doubt, been superlatively +handsome. Even now, his long hair was black and his eye could glitter: +but his life had impregnated his noble features with hardness and +meanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, and servile: an +excellent figure for a painter, though; born in Spain, he was not +afraid of color, had a red cap on his snaky black hair, and a striped +waistcoat. + +He inquired for Mr. Meyrick's farm. + +He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. Meyrick. + +The female servant who opened the door ran her eye up and down him, and +said, bruskly, "What do you want with her, my man? because she is +busy." + +"Oh, she will see me, miss." + +Softened by the "miss," the girl laughed, and said, "What makes you +think that, my man?" + +"Give her this, miss," said the gypsy, "and she will come to me." + +He held her out a dirty crumpled piece of paper. + +Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped her hand under the +corner of her checkered apron, and so took the note with a finger and +thumb operating through the linen. By this means she avoided two +evils--her fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not dirty +her fingers. + +She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose arms were deep in a +wash-tub. + +Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, and for six +months would not put her hand to anything. But those twin cajolers of +the female heart, Dignity and Laziness, made her so utterly wretched, +that she returned to her old habits of work, only she combined with it +the sweets of domination. + +Sally came in and said, "It's an old gypsy, which he have brought you +this." + +Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her brown but shapely +arms, and, whipping a wet hand under her apron, took the note just as +Sally had. It contained these words only: + + + +"NURSE--The old Romance will tell you all about me. + +"REGINALD." + + + +She had no sooner read it than she took her sleeves down, and whipped +her shawl off a peg and put it on, and took off her apron--and all for +an old gypsy. No stranger must take her for anything but a lady. + +Thus embellished in a turn of the hand, she went hastily to the door. + +She and the gypsy both started at sight of each other, and Mrs. Meyrick +screamed. + + + +"Why, what brings you here, old man?" said she, panting. The gypsy +answered with oily sweetness, "The little gentleman sent me, my dear. +Why, you look like a queen." + +"Hush!" said Mrs. Meyrick.--"Come in here." + +She made the old gypsy sit down, and she sat close to him. + +"Speak low, daddy," said she, "and tell me all about my boy, my +beautiful boy." + +The old gypsy told Mrs. Meyrick the wrongs of Reginald that had driven +him to this; and she fell to crying and lamenting, and inveighing +against all concerned--schoolmaster, Sir Charles, Lady Bassett, and the +gypsies. Them the old man defended, and assured her the young gentleman +was in good hands, and would be made a little king of, all the more +that Keturah had told them there was gypsy blood in him. + +Mrs. Meyrick resented this loudly, and then returned to her grief. + +When she had indulged that grief for a long time, she felt a natural +desire to quarrel with somebody, and she actually put on her bonnet, +and was going to the Hall to give Lady Bassett a bit of her mind, for +she said that lady had never shown the feelings of a woman for the +lamb. + +But she thought better of it, and postponed the visit. "I shall be sure +to say something I shall be sorry for after," said she; so she sat down +again, and returned to her grief. + +Nor could she ever shake it off as thoroughly as she had done any other +trouble in her life. + +Months after this, she said to Sally, with a burst of tears, "I never +nursed but one, and I shall never nurse another; and now he is across +the seas." + +She kept the old gypsy at the farm; or, to speak more correctly, she +made the farm his headquarters. She assigned him the only bedroom he +would accept, viz., a cattle-shed, open on one side. She used often to +have him into her room when she was alone; she gave him some of her +husband's clothes, and made him wear a decent hat; by these means she +effaced, in some degree, his nationality, and then she compelled her +servants to call him "the foreign gent." + +The foreign gent was very apt to disappear in fine weather, but rain +soon drove him back to her fireside, and hunger to her flesh-pots. + +On the very day the foreign gent came to Meyrick's farm Lady Bassett +had a letter by post from Reginald. + + + +"DEAR MAMMA--I am gone with the gypsies across the water. I am sorry to +leave you. You are the right sort: but they tormented me so with their +books and their dark rooms. It is very unfortunate to be a boy. When I +am a man, I shall be too old to be tormented, and then I will come +back. + +"Your dutiful son, + +"REGINALD." + + + +Lady Bassett telegraphed Sir Charles, and he returned to Huntercombe, +looking old, sad, and worn. + +Lady Bassett set herself to comfort and cheer him, and this was her +gentle office for many a long month. + +She was the more fit for it, that her own health and spirits revived +the moment Reginald left the country with his friends the gypsies; the +color crept back to her cheek, her spirits revived, and she looked as +handsome, and almost as young, as when she married. She tasted +tranquillity. Year after year went by without any news of Reginald, and +the hope grew that he would never cross her threshold again, and +Compton be Sir Charles's heir without any more trouble. + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +OUR story now makes a bold skip. Compton Bassett was fourteen years +old, a youth highly cultivated in mind and trained in body, but not +very tall, and rather effeminate looking, because he was so fair and +his skin so white. + +For all that, he was one of the bowlers in the Wolcombe Eleven, whose +cricket-ground was the very meadow in which he had erst gathered +cowslips with Ruperta Bassett; and he had a canoe, which he carried to +adjacent streams, however narrow, and paddled it with singular skill +and vigor. A neighboring miller, suffering under drought, was heard to +say, "There ain't water enough to float a duck; nought can swim but the +dab-chicks and Muster Bassett." + +He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take long walks with +him, and leave the horses to eat their oats in peace. + +In these walks young master botanized and geologized his own father, +and Sir Charles gave him a little politics, history, and English +poetry, in return. He had a tutor fresh from Oxford for the classics. + +One day, returning with his father from a walk, they met a young lady +walking toward them from the village; she was tall, and a superb +brunette. + +Now it was rather a rare thing to see a lady walking through that +village, so both Sir Charles and his son looked keenly at her as she +came toward them. + +Compton turned crimson, and raised his hat to her rather awkwardly. + +Sir Charles, who did not know the lady from Eve, saluted her, +nevertheless, and with infinite grace; for Sir Charles, in his youth, +had lived with some of the elite of French society, and those gentlemen +bow to the person whom their companion bows to. Sir Charles had +imported this excellent trait of politeness, and always practiced it, +though not the custom in England, the more the pity. + +As soon as the young lady had passed and was out of hearing, Sir +Charles said to Compton, "Who is that lovely girl? Why, how the boy is +blushing!" + +"Oh, papa!" + +"Well, what is the matter?" + +"Don't you see? It is herself come back from school." + +"I have no doubt it is herself, and not her sister, but who is +herself?" + +"Ruperta Bassett." + +"Richard Bassett's daughter! impossible. That young lady looks +seventeen or eighteen years of age." + +"Yes, but it is Ruperta. There's nobody like her. Papa!" + +"Well?" + +"I suppose I may speak to her now." + +"What for?" + +"She is so beautiful." + +"That she really is. And therefore I advise you to have nothing to say +to her. You are not children now, you know. Were you to renew that +intimacy, you might be tempted to fall in love with her. I don't say +you would be so mad, for you are a sensible boy; but still, after that +little business in the wood--" + +"But suppose I did fall in love with her?" + +"Then that would be a great misfortune. Don't you know that her father +is my enemy? If you were to make any advances to that young lady, he +would seize the opportunity to affront you, and me through you." + +This silenced Compton, for he was an obedient youth. + +But in the evening he got to his mother and coaxed her to take his +part. + +Now Lady Bassett felt the truth of all her husband had said; but she +had a positive wish the young people should be on friendly terms, at +all events; she wanted the family feud to die with the generation it +had afflicted. She promised, therefore, to speak to Sir Charles; and so +great was her influence that she actually obtained terms for Compton: +he might speak to Miss Bassett, if he would realize the whole +situation, and be very discreet, and not revive that absurd familiarity +into which, their childhood had been betrayed. + +She communicated this to him, and warned him at the same time that even +this concession had been granted somewhat reluctantly, and in +consideration of his invariable good conduct; it would be immediately +withdrawn upon the slightest indiscretion. + +"Oh, I will be discretion itself," said Compton; but the warmth with +which he kissed his mother gave her some doubts. However, she was +prepared to risk something. She had her own views in this matter. + +When he had got this limited permission, Master Compton was not much +nearer the mark; for he was not to call on the young lady, and she did +not often walk in the village. + +But he often thought of her, her loving, sprightly ways seven years +ago, and the blaze of beauty with which she had returned. + +At last, one Sunday afternoon, she came to church alone. When the +congregation dispersed, he followed her, and came up with her, but his +heart beat violently. + +"Miss Bassett!" said he, timidly. + +She stopped, and turned her eyes on him; he blushed up to the temples. +She blushed too, but not quite so much. + +"I am afraid you don't remember me," said the boy, sadly. + +"Yes, I do, sir," said Ruperta, shyly. + +"How you are grown!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You are taller than I am, and more beautiful than ever." + +No answer, but a blush. + +"You are not angry with me for speaking to you?" + +"No, sir." + +"I wouldn't offend you." + +"I am not offended. Only--" + +"Oh, Miss Bassett, of course I know you will never be--we shall never +be--like we used." + +A very deep blush, and dead silence. + +"You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy still, somehow. But +it _would_ have been hard if I might not even speak to you. Would it +not?" + +"Yes," said the young lady, but after some hesitation, and only in a +whisper. + +"I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you out but once." + +No reply to this little feeler. + +Then, at last, Compton was discouraged, partly by her beauty and size, +partly by her taciturnity. + +He was silent in return, and so, in a state of mutual constraint, they +reached the gate of Highmore. + +"Good-by," said Compton reluctantly. + +"Good-by," + +"Won't you shake hands?" + +She blushed, and put out her hand halfway. He took it and shook it, and +so they parted. + +Compton said to his mother disconsolately, "Mamma, it is all over. I +have seen her, and spoken to her; but she has gone off dreadfully." + +"Why, what is the matter?" + +"She is all changed. She is so stupid and dignified got to be. She has +not a word to say to a fellow." + +"Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She is a young lady +now." + +"Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. Oh, the bright +little darling! Who'd think she could ever turn into a great, stupid, +dignified thing? She is as tall as you, mamma." + +"Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, don't take _too +much_ notice of her, and then you will find she will not be nearly so +shy." + +"Too much notice! I shall never speak to her again--perhaps." + +"I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why not treat her like +any other acquaintance?" + +Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone. + +In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a second time. +Horror! she was all monosyllables and blushes again. + +Compton began to find it too up-hill. At last, when they reached +Highmore gate, he lost his patience, and said, "I see how it is. I have +lost my sweet playmate forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won't trouble you +any more." And he held out his hand to the young lady for a final +farewell. + +Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like a school-girl, and +then, recovering her dignity, cast one swift glance of gentle reproach, +then suddenly assuming vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the +mother of a family. These three changes of manner she effected all in +less than two seconds. + +Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female kaleidoscope, but +not a little alarmed and concerned at having mortally offended so much +feminine dignity. + +After that he did not venture to accost her for some time, but he cast +a few sheep's-eyes at her in church. + +Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mother had not forbidden +her to speak to Compton, but had insisted on reserve and discretion. + +She now told her mother she thought he would not speak to her any more, +she had snubbed him so. + +"Dear me!" said Mrs. Bassett, "why did you do that? Can you not be +polite and nothing more?" + +"No, mamma." + +"Why not? He is very amiable. Everybody says so." + +"He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl I was, and I am +afraid he has not forgotten it either, and that makes me hate the poor +little fellow; no, not hate him; but keep him off. I dare say he thinks +me a cross, ill-tempered thing; and I _am_ very unkind to him, but I +can't help it." + +"Never mind," said Mrs. Bassett; "that is much better than to be too +forward. Papa would never forgive that." + +By-and-by there was a cricket-match in the farmer's meadow, Highcombe +and Huntercombe eleven against the town of Staveleigh. All clubs liked +to play at Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and the +dinner, and the young farmers drank his champagne to their hearts' +content. + +Ruperta took her maid and went to see the match. They found it going +against Huntercombe. The score as follows-- + +Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight runs. + +Huntercombe eighty-eight. + +Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one wicket down; and +Johnson and Wright, two of their best men, well in, and masters of the +bowling. + +This being communicated to Ruperta, she became excited, and her soul in +the game. + +The batters went on knocking the balls about, and scored thirteen more +before the young lady's eyes. + +"Oh, dear!" said she, "what is that boy about? Why doesn't he bowl? +They pretend he is a capital bowler." + +At this time Compton was standing long-field on, only farther from the +wicket than usual. + +Johnson, at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not very scientific +hitter, lifted a half volley ball right over the bowler's head, a hit +for four, but a skyscraper. Compton started the moment he hit, and, +running with prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a +few yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged to throw +himself forward into the air; he rolled upon the grass, but held the +ball in sight all the while. + +Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky. + +Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by. + +She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and +touched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did +not speak to her. + +This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to be +delivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg. + +The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like most +country players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ball +exactly right, and sent it whizzing for five. + +But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went at +first bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, +like a catapult, at Wright's wicket. + +Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become of +the ball, started to run, as a matter of course. + +But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's hands +like a bullet, cried, "Back!" + +Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball had +required handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill with +luck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very +judiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a +second before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. + +"How's that, umpire?" cried the wicket-keeper. + +"Out!" said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at that end. + +Up went the ball into the air, amid great excitement of the natives. + +Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, nodded all sparkling +to Compton, and that made his heart beat and his soul aspire. So next +over he claimed his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriended +him: he bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket-keeper stumped +a fifth: the rest were "the tail," and disposed of for a few runs, and +the total was no more than Huntercombe's first innings. + +Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs before he was +disposed of, five wickets down for a hundred and ten runs. The match +was not won yet, nor sure to be; but the situation was reversed. + +On going out, he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta naturally felt proud +of her admirer. + +Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some iced champagne. + +Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so imploringly that she +sipped a little, and said, warmly, "I hope we shall win: and, if we do, +I know whom we shall have to thank." + +"And so do I: you, Miss Bassett." + +"Me? Why, what have _I_ done in the matter?" + +"You brought us luck, for one thing. You put us on our mettle. +Staveleigh shall never beat _me,_ with you looking on." + +Ruperta blushed a little, for the boy's eyes beamed with fire. + +"If I believed that," said she, "I should hire myself out at the next +match, and charge twelve pairs of gloves." + +"You may believe it, then; ask anybody whether our luck did not change +the moment you came." + +"Then I am afraid it will go now, for I am going." + +"You will lose us the match if you do," said Compton. + +"I can't help it: now you are out, it is rather insipid. There, you see +I can pay compliments as well as you." + +Then she made a graceful inclination and moved away. + +Compton felt his heart ache at parting. He took a thought and ran +quickly to a certain part of the field. + +Ruperta and her attendant walked very slowly homeward. + +Compton caught them just at their own gate. "Cousin!" said he, +imploringly, and held her out a nosegay of cowslips only. + +At that the memories rushed back on her, and the girl seemed literally +to melt. She gave him one look full of womanly sensibility and winning +tenderness, and said, softly, "Thank you, cousin." + +Compton went away on wings: the ice was broken. + +But the next time he met her it had frozen again apparently: to be sure +she was alone; and young ladies will be bolder when they have another +person of their own sex with them. + + + +Mr. Angelo called on Sir Charles Bassett to complain of a serious +grievance. + +Mr. Angelo had become zealous and eloquent, but what are eloquence and +zeal against sex? A handsome woman had preached for ten minutes upon a +little mound outside the village, and had announced she should say a +few parting words next Sunday evening at six o'clock. + +Mr. Angelo complained of this to Lady Bassett. + +Lady Bassett referred him to Sir Charles. + +Mr. Angelo asked that magistrate to enforce the law against +conventicles. + +Sir Charles said he thought the Act did not apply. + +"Well, but," said Angelo, "it is on your ground she is going to +preach." + +"I am the proprietor, but the tenant is the owner in law. He could warn +_me_ off his ground. I have no power." + +"I fear you have no inclination," said Angelo, nettled. + +"Not much, to tell the truth," replied Sir Charles coolly. "Does it +matter so very much _who_ sows the good seed, or whether it is flung +abroad from a pulpit or a grassy knoll?" + +"That is begging the question, Sir Charles. Why assume that it is good +seed? it is more likely to be tares than wheat in this case." + +"And is not that begging the question? Well, I will make it my business +to know: and if she preaches sedition, or heresy, or bad morals, I will +strain my power a little to silence her. More than that I really cannot +promise you. The day is gone by for intolerance." + +"Intolerance is a bad thing; but the absence of all conviction is +worse, and that is what we are coming to." + +"Not quite that: but the nation has tasted liberty; and now every man +assumes to do what is right in his own eyes." + +"That mean's what is wrong in his neighbor's." + +Sir Charles thought this neat, and laughed good-humoredly: he asked the +rector to dine on Sunday at half-past seven. "I shall know more about +it by that time," said he. + +They dined early on Sunday, at Highmore, and Ruperta took her maid for +a walk in the afternoon, and came back in time to hear the female +preacher. + +Half the village was there already, and presently the preacher walked +to her station. + +To Ruperta's surprise, she was a lady, richly dressed, tall and +handsome, but with features rather too commanding. She had a glove on +her left hand, and a little Bible in her right hand, which was large, +but white, and finely formed. + +She delivered a short prayer, and opened her text: + +"Walk honestly; not in strife and envying." + +Just as the text was given out, Ruperta's maid pinched her, and the +young lady, looking up, saw her father coming to see what was the +matter. Maid was for hiding, but Ruperta made a wry face, blushed, and +stood her ground. "How can he scold me, when he comes himself?" she +whispered. + +During the sermon, of which, short as it was, I can only afford to give +the outline, in crept Compton Bassett, and got within three or four of +Ruperta. + +Finally Sir Charles Bassett came up, in accordance with his promise to +Angelo. + +The perfect preacher deals in generalities, but strikes them home with +a few personalities. + +Most clerical preachers deal only in generalities, and that is +ineffective, especially to uncultivated minds. + +Mrs. Marsh, as might be expected from her sex, went a little too much +the other way. + +After a few sensible words, pointing out the misery in houses, and the +harm done to the soul, by a quarrelsome spirit, she lamented there was +too much of it in Huntercombe: with this opening she went into +personalities: reminded them of the fight between two farm servants +last week, one of whom was laid up at that moment in consequence. +"And," said she, "even when it does not come to fighting, it poisons +your lives and offends your Redeemer." + +Then she went into the causes, and she said Drunkenness and Detraction +were the chief causes of strife and contention. + +She dealt briefly but dramatically with Drunkenness, and then lashed +Detraction, as follows: + +"Every class has its vices, and Detraction is the vice of the poor. You +are ever so much vainer than your betters: you are eaten up with +vanity, and never give your neighbor a good word. I have been in thirty +houses, and in not one of those houses has any poor man or poor woman +spoken one honest word in praise of a neighbor. So do not flatter +yourselves this is a Christian village, for it is not. The only excuse +to be made for you, and I fear it is not one that God will accept on +His judgment-day, is that your betters set you a bad example instead of +a good one. The two principal people in this village are kinsfolk, yet +enemies, and have been enemies for twenty years. That's a nice example +for two Christian gentlemen to set to poor people, who, they may be +sure, will copy their sins, if they copy nothing else. + +"They go to church regularly, and believe in the Bible, and yet they +defy both Church and Bible. + +"Now I should like to ask those gentlemen a question. How do they mean +to manage in Heaven? When the baronet comes to that happy place, where +all is love, will the squire walk out? Or do they think to quarrel +there, and so get turned out, both of them? I don't wonder at your +smiling; but it is a serious consideration, for all that. The soul of +man is immortal: and what is the soul? it is not a substantial thing, +like the body; it is a bundle of thoughts and feelings: the thoughts we +die with in this world, we shall wake up with them in the next. Yet +here are two Christians loading their immortal souls with immortal +hate. What a waste of feeling, if it must all be flung off together +with the body, lest it drag the souls of both down to bottomless +perdition. + +"And what do they gain in this world?--irritation, ill-health, and +misery. It is a fact that no man ever reached a great old age who hated +his neighbor; still less a _good_ old age; for, if men would look +honestly into their own hearts, they would own that to hate is to be +miserable. + +"I believe no men commit a sin for many years without some special +warnings; and to neglect these, is one sin more added to their account. +Such a warning, or rather, I should say, such a pleading of Divine +love, those two gentlemen have had. Do you remember, about eight years +ago, two children were lost on one day, out of different houses in this +village?" (A murmur from the crowd.) + +"Perhaps some of you here present were instrumental, under God, in +finding that pretty pair." (A louder murmur.) + +"Oh, don't be afraid to answer me. Preaching is only a way of speaking; +and I'm only a woman that is speaking to you for your good. Tell me--we +are not in church, tied up by stait-laced rules to keep men and women +from getting within arm's-length of one another's souls--tell me, who +saw those two lost children?" + +"I, I, I, I, I," roared several voices in reply. + +"Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent darlings had +each an arm round the other's neck?" + +"Ay." + +"And little coronets of flowers, to match their hair?" (That was the +girl's doing.) + +"Ay." + +"And the little boy had played the man, and taken off his tippet to put +round the little lady?" + +"Ay!" with a burst of enthusiasm from the assembled rustics. + +"I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting up the dewy leaves +overhead, and that Divine picture of innocent love. Well, which was the +prettiest sight, and the fittest for heaven--the hatred of the parents, +or the affection of the children? + +"And now mark what a weapon hatred is, in the Devil's hands. There are +only two people in this parish on whom that sight was wasted; and those +two being gentlemen, and men of education, would have been more +affected by it than humble folk, if Hell had not been in their hearts, +for Hate comes from Hell, and takes men down to the place it comes +from. + +"Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of your betters: +and I hope those children will shun it too. A father is to be treated +with great veneration, but above all is our Heavenly Father and His +law; and that law, what is it?--what has it been this eighteen hundred +years and more? Why, Love. + +"Would you be happy in this world, and fit your souls to dwell +hereafter even in the meanest of the many mansions prepared above, you +_must,_ above all things, be charitable. You must not run your neighbor +down behind his back, or God will hate you: you must not wound him to +his face, or God will hate you. You must overlook a fault or two, and +see a man's bright side, and then God will love you. If you won't do +that much for your neighbor, why, in Heaven's name, should God overlook +a multitude of sins in you? + +"Nothing goes to heaven surer than Charity, and nothing is so fit to +sit in heaven. St. Paul had many things to be proud of and to praise in +himself--things that the world is more apt to admire than Christian +charity, the sweetest, but humblest of all the Christian graces: St. +Paul, I say, was a bulwark of learning, an anchor of faith, a rock of +constancy, a thunder-bolt of zeal: yet see how he bestows the palm. + +"'Knowledge puffeth up: but charity edifieth. Though I speak with the +tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as +sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of +prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I +have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, +I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and +though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth +me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; +charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself +unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no +evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth +all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all +things. Charity never faileth; but prophecies--they shall fail; +tongues--they shall cease; knowledge--it shall vanish away. And now +abideth Faith, Hope, Charity, these three; but the greatest of these is +charity.'" + +The fair orator delivered these words with such fire, such feeling, +such trumpet tones and heartfelt eloquence, that for the first time +those immortal words sounded in these village ears true oracles of God. + +Then, without pause, she went on. "So let us lift our hearts in earnest +prayer to God that, in this world of thorns, and tempers, and trials, +and troubles, and cares, He will give us the best cure for all--the +great sweetener of this mortal life--the sure forerunner of Heaven--His +most excellent gift of charity." Then, in one generous burst, she +prayed for love divine, and there was many a sigh and many a tear, and +at the close an "Amen!" such as, alas! we shall never, I fear, hear +burst from a hundred bosoms where men repeat beautiful but stale words +and call it prayer. + +The preacher retired, but the people still lingered spell-bound, and +then arose that buzz which shows that the words have gone home. + +As for Richard Bassett, he had turned on his heel, indignant, as soon +as the preacher's admonitions came his way. + +Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, being steeled by +the conviction that the quarrel was none of his seeking. Moreover, he +was not aware what a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what a +good wife she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. His mind, +therefore, made a clear leap from Rhoda Somerset, the vixen of Hyde +Park and Mayfair, to this preacher, and he could not help smiling; than +which a worse frame for receiving unpalatable truths can hardly be +conceived. And so the elders were obdurate. But Compton and Ruperta had +no armor of old age, egotism, or prejudice to turn the darts of honest +eloquence. They listened, as to the voice of an angel; they gazed, as +on the face of an angel; and when those silvery accents ceased, they +turned toward each other and came toward each other, with the sweet +enthusiasm that became their years. "Oh, Cousin Ruperta!" quavered +Compton. '"Oh, Cousin Compton!" cried Ruperta, the tears trickling down +her lovely cheeks. + +They could not say any more for ever so long. + +Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, "I will go and +speak to her, and thank her." + +"Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea," suggested the maid. + +"Tea!" said Ruperta. "Our souls are before our tea! I must speak to +her, or else my heart will choke me and kill me. I will go--and so will +Compton." + +"Oh, yes!" said Compton. + +And they hurried after the preacher. + +They came up with her flushed and panting; and now it was Compton's +turn to be shy--the lady was so tall and stately too. + +But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in petticoats. "Oh, madam," +said she, "if you please, may we speak to you?" + +Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline features softened +instantly at the two specimens of beauty and innocence that had run +after her. + +"Certainly, my young friends;" and she smiled maternally on them. She +had children of her own. + +"Who do you think we are? We are the two naughty children you preached +about so beautifully." + +"What! _you_ the babes in the wood?" + +"Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we are fifteen now--are +we not, Cousin Compton?" + +"Yes, madam." + +"And we are both so unhappy at our parents' quarreling. At least I am." + +"And so am I." + +"And we came to thank you. Didn't we, Compton?" + +"Yes, Ruperta." + +"And to ask your advice. How are we to make our parents be friends? Old +people will not be advised by young ones. They look down on us so; it +is dreadful." + +"My dear young lady," said Mrs. Marsh, "I will try and answer you: but +let me sit down a minute; for, after preaching, I am apt to feel a +little exhausted. Now, sit beside me, and give me each a hand, if you +please. + +"Well, my dears, I have been teaching you a lesson; and now you teach +me one, and that is, how much easier it is to preach reconciliation and +charity than it is to practice it under certain circumstances. However, +my advice to you is first to pray to God for wisdom in this thing, and +then to watch every opportunity. Dissuade your parents from every +unkind act: don't be afraid to speak--with the word of God at your +back. I know that you have no easy task before you. Sir Charles Bassett +and Mr. Bassett were both among my hearers, and both turned their backs +on me, and went away unsoftened; they would not give me a chance; would +not hear me to an end, and I am not a wordy preacher neither." + +Here an interruption occurred. Ruperta, so shy and cold with Compton, +flung her arms round Mrs. Marsh's neck, with the tears in her eyes, and +kissed her eagerly. + +"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in turn, "I _was_ a +little mortified. But that was very weak and foolish. I am sorry, for +their own sakes, they would not stay; it was the word of God: but they +saw only the unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you _have_ a +hard task; but you must work upon your mothers, and win them to +charity." + +"Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never approved this +unhappy quarrel." + +"No more has mine." + +"Is it so? Then you must try and get the two ladies to speak to each +other. But something tells me that a way will be opened. Have patience; +have faith; and do not mind a check or two; but persevere, remembering +that 'blessed are the peace-makers.'" + +She then rose, and they took leave of her. + +"Give me a kiss, children," said she. "You have done me a world of +good. My own heart often flags on the road, and you have warmed and +comforted it. God bless you!" + +And so they parted. + +Compton and Ruperta walked homeward. Ruperta was very thoughtful, and +Compton could only get monosyllables out of her. This discouraged, and +at last vexed him. + +"What have I done," said he, "that you will speak to anybody but me?" + +"Don't be cross, child," said she; "but answer me a question. Did you +put your tippet round me in that wood?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Oh, then you don't remember doing it, eh?" + +"No; that I don't." + +"Then what makes you think you did?" + +"Because they say so. Because I must have been such an awful cad if I +didn't. And I was always much fonder of you than you were of me. My +tippet! I'd give my head sooner than any harm should come to you, +Ruperta!" + +Ruperta made no reply, but, being now at Highmore, she put out her hand +to him, and turned her head away. He kissed her hand devotedly, and so +they parted. + +Compton told Lady Bassett all that happened, and Ruperta told Mrs. +Bassett. + +Those ladies readily promised to be on the side of peace, but they +feared it could only be the work of time, and said so. + +By-and-by Compton got impatient, and told Ruperta he had thought of a +way to compel their fathers to be friends. "I am afraid you won't like +the idea at _first,"_ said he; "but the more you think of it, the more +you will see it is the surest way of all." + +"Well, but what is it?" + +"You must let me marry you." + +Ruperta stared, and began to blush crimson. + +"Will you, cousin?" + +"Of course not, child. The idea!" + +"Oh, Ruperta," cried the boy in dismay, "surely you don't mean to marry +anybody else but me!" + +"Would that make you very unhappy, then?" + +"You know it would, wretched for my life." + +"I should not like to do that. But I disapprove of early marriages. I +mean to wait till I'm nineteen; and that is three years nearly." + +"It is a fearful time; but if you will promise not to marry anybody +else, I suppose I shall live through it." + +Ruperta, though she made light of Compton's offer, was very proud of it +(it was her first). She told her mother directly. + +Mrs. Bassett sighed, and said that was too blessed a thing ever to +happen. + +"Why not?" said Ruperta. + +"How could it," said Mrs. Bassett, "with everybody against it but poor +little me!" + +"Compton assures me that Lady Bassett wishes it." + +"Indeed! But Sir Charles and papa, Ruperta?" + +"Oh, Compton must talk Sir Charles over, and I will persuade papa. I'll +begin this evening, when he comes home from London." + +Accordingly, as he was sitting alone in the dining-room sipping his +glass of port, Ruperta slipped away from her mother's side and found +him. + +His face brightened at the sight of her; for he was extremely fond and +proud of this girl, for whom he would not have the bells rung when she +was born. + +She came and hung round his neck a little, and kissed him, and said +softly, "Dear papa, I have something to tell you. I have had a +proposal." + +Richard Bassett stared. + +"What, of marriage?" + +Ruperta nodded archly. + +"To a child like you? Scandalous! No, for, after all, you look nineteen +or twenty. And who is the highwayman that thinks to rob me of my +precious girl?" + +"Well, papa, whoever he is, he will have to wait three years, and so I +told him. It is my cousin Compton." + +"What!" cried Richard Bassett, so loudly that the girl started back +dismayed. "That little monkey have the impudence to offer marriage to +my daughter? Surely, Ruperta, you have offered him no encouragement?" + +"N--no." + +"Your mother promised me nothing but common civility should pass +between you and that young gentleman." + +"She promised for me, but she could not promise for him--poor little +fellow!" + +"Marry a son of the man who has robbed and insulted your father!" + +"Oh, papa! is it so? Are you sure you did not begin?" + +"If you can think that, it is useless to say more. I thought +ill-fortune had done its worst; but no; blow upon blow, and wound upon +wound. Don't spare me, child. Nobody else has, and why should you? +Marry my enemy's son, his younger son, and break your father's heart." + +At this, what could a sensitive girl of sixteen do but burst out +crying, and promise, round her father's neck, never to marry any one +whom he disliked. + +When she had made this promise, her father fondled and petted her, and +his tenderness consoled her, for she was not passionately in love with +her cousin. + +Yet she cried a good deal over the letter in which she communicated +this to Compton. + +He lay in wait for her; but she baffled him for three weeks. + +After that she relaxed her vigilance, for she had no real wish to avoid +him, and was curious to see whether she had cured him. + +He met her; and his conduct took her by surprise. He was pale, and +looked very wretched. + +He said solemnly, "Were you jesting with me when you promised to marry +no one but me?" + +"No, Compton. But you know I could never marry you without papa's +consent." + +"Of course not; but, what I fear, he might wish you to marry somebody +else." + +"Then I should refuse. I will never break my word to you, cousin. I am +not in love with you, you are too young for that--but somehow I feel I +could not make you unhappy. Can't you trust my word? You might. I come +of the same people as you. Why do you look so pale?--we are very +unhappy." + +Then the tears began to steal down her cheeks; and Compton's soon +followed. + +Compton consulted his mother. She told him, with a sigh, she was +powerless. Sir Charles might yield to her, but she had no power to +influence Mr. Bassett at present. "The time may come," said she. She +could not take a very serious view of this amour, except with regard to +its pacific results. So Mr. Bassett's opposition chilled her in the +matter. + +While things were so, something occurred that drove all these minor +things out of her distracted heart. + +One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and Compton sat at dinner, a +servant came in to say there was a stranger at the door, and he called +himself Bassett. + +"What is he like?" said Lady Bassett, turning pale. + +"He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is Mr. Bassett," +repeated the man, with a scandalized air. + +Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall door. Compton +followed to the door only and looked. + +Sure enough it was Reginald, full-grown, and bold, as handsome as ever, +and darker than ever. + +In that moment his misconduct in running away never occurred either to +Sir Charles or Compton; all was eager and tremulous welcome. The hall +rang with joy. They almost carried him into the dining-room. + +The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored velvet, half +hidden by the table. + +Compton ran forward with a cry of dismay. + +It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as white as her neck and +arms, and these as white and smooth as satin. + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +LADY BASSETT was carried to her room, and did not reappear. She kept +her own apartments, and her health declined so rapidly that Sir Charles +sent for Dr. Willis. He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay in +the mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, and her +beautiful eyes began to shine like stars, preternaturally large. She +was in a frightful condition: she longed to tell the truth and end it +all; but then she must lose her adored husband's respect, and perhaps +his love; and she had not the courage. She saw no way out of it but to +die and leave her confession; and, as she felt that the agony of her +soul was killing her by degrees, she drew a somber resignation from +that. + +She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the sight of him. + +Compton came to her many times a day, with a face full of concern, and +even terror. But she would not talk to him of herself. + +He brought her all the news he heard, having no other way to cheer her. + +One day he told her there were robbers about. Two farmhouses had been +robbed, a thing not known in these parts for many years. + +Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing. + +But by-and-by her beloved son came to her in distress with a grief of +his own. + +Ruperta Bassett was now the beauty of the county, and it seems Mr. +Rutland had danced with her at her first ball, and been violently +smitten with her; he had called more than once at Highmore, and his +attentions were directly encouraged by Mr. Bassett. Now Mr. Rutland was +heir to a peerage, and also to considerable estates in the county. + +Compton was sick at heart, and, being young, saw his life about to be +blighted; so now he was pale and woe-begone, and told her the sad news +with such deep sighs, and imploring, tearful eyes, that all the mother +rose in arms. "Ah!" said she, "they say to themselves that I am down, +and cannot fight for my child; but I would fight for him on the edge of +the grave. Let me think all by myself, dear. Come back to me in an +hour. I shall do something. Your mother is a very cunning woman--for +those she loves." + +Compton kissed her gown--a favorite action of his, for he worshiped +her--and went away. + +The invalid laid her hollow cheek upon her wasted hand, and thought +with all her might. By degrees her extraordinary brain developed a +twofold plan of action; and she proceeded to execute the first part, +being the least difficult, though even that was not easy, and brought a +vivid blush to her wasted cheek. + +She wrote to Mrs. Bassett. + + + +"MADAM--I am very ill, and life is uncertain. Something tells me you, +like me, regret the unhappy feud between our houses. If this is so, it +would be a consolation to me to take you by the hand and exchange a few +words, as we already have a few kind looks. + +"Yours respectfully, + +"BELLA BASSETT." + + + +She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he might send a servant +with it to Highmore at once. + +"Oh, mamma!" said he, "I never thought you would do that: how good you +are! You couldn't ask Ruperta, could you? Just in a little postscript, +you know." + +Lady Bassett shook her head. + +"That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook that fish for you, not +frighten her away." + +Great was the astonishment at Highmore when a blazing footman knocked +at the door and handed Jessie the letter with assumed nonchalance, then +stalked away, concealing with professional art his own astonishment at +what he had done. + +It was no business of Jessie's to take letters into the drawing-room; +she would have deposited any other letter on the hall table; but she +brought this one in, and, standing at the door, exclaimed, "Here a +letter fr' Huntercombe!" + +Richard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Ruperta, all turned upon her with +one accord. + +"From where?" + +"Fr' Huntercombe itsel'. Et isna for you, nor for you, missy. Et's for +the mesterress." + +She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett and laid the letter down on the +table; then drew back a step or two, and, being Scotch, coolly waited +to hear the contents. Richard Basset, being English, told her she need +not stay. + +Mrs. Bassett cast a bewildered look at her husband and daughter, then +opened the letter quietly; read it quietly; and, having read it, took +out her handkerchief and began to cry quietly. + +Ruperta cried, "Oh, mamma!" and in a moment had one long arm round her +mother's neck, while the other hand seized the letter, and she read it +aloud, cheek to cheek; but, before she got to an end, her mother's +tears infected her, and she must whimper too. + +"Here are a couple of geese," said Richard Bassett. "Can't you write a +civil reply to a civil letter without sniveling? I'll answer the letter +for you." + +"No!" said Mrs. Bassett. + +Richard was amazed: Ruperta ditto. + +The little woman had never dealt in "Noes," least of all to her +husband; and besides this was such a plump "No." It came out of her +mouth like a marble. + +I think the sound surprised even herself a little, for she proceeded to +justify it at once. "I have been a better wife than a Christian this +many years. But there's a limit. And, Richard, I should never have +married you if you had told me we were to be at war all our lives with +our next neighbor, that everybody respects. To live in the country, and +not speak to our only neighbor, that is a life I never would have left +my father's house for. Not that I complain: if you have been bitter to +them, you have always been good and kind to me; and I hope I have done +my best to deserve it; but when a sick lady, and perhaps dying, holds +out her hand to me---write her one of your cold-blooded letters! That I +WON'T. Reply? my reply will be just putting on my bonnet and going to +her this afternoon. It is Passion-week, too; and that's not a week to +play the heathen. Poor lady! I've seen in her sweet eyes this many +years that she would gladly be friends with me; and she never passed me +close but she bowed to me, in church or out, even when we were at +daggers drawn. She is a lady, a real lady, every inch. But it is not +that altogether. No, if a sick woman called me to her bedside this +week, I'd go, whether she wrote from Huntercombe Hall or the poorest +house in the place; else how could I hope my Saviour would come to _my_ +bedside at my last hour?" + +This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to be +sure, but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Bassett, and +enraptured Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother's +neck, and cried, "Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best woman +in England, and now I know it." + +"Well, well, well," said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, "Did +I ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not set +up your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox. +Unfortunately, she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the +best, and she is going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Bassett will +turn our mother inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her; +you are a shrewd girl." + +"My daughter will not go till she is asked," said Mrs. Bassett, firmly. + +"In that case," said Richard, dryly, "let us hope the Lord will protect +you, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den." + +No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the words +of faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism. + +Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall. + +After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room where +Lady Bassett was lying on a sofa. + +Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her. + +She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that it +rather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Bassett changed +her style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, +and gentle amity, not overdone. + +Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other in +silence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill. + +"You would have come--like this--years ago--at a word?" faltered Lady +Bassett. + +"Yes," gulped Mrs. Bassett. + +Then there was another long pause. + +"Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us +both." + +"It will kill one of us." + +"Not if I can help it." + +"God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold +the hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage." + +"Why should you take the blame?" said Mrs. Bassett. "We have both been +good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a +husband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor +woman." + +"It is, indeed." + +Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassett +broke it, with some hesitation. "I hope, Lady Bassett, your present +illness is not in any way--I hope you do not fear anything more from my +husband?" + +"Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it--especially if we provoke +him? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave your +husband cause for just resentment." + +"Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should, +Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace." + +"Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to +ask too much at once." + +"I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett." + +"No, bring her." + +"Then tell me your hour." + +"Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both to +myself." + + + +While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Bassett, +being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usual +skill upon her young mind. + +He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to see +her a countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage. + +He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week, +and requested her to receive him graciously. + +She promised that at once. + +"That," said he, "will be a much better match for you than the younger +son of Sir Charles Bassett. However, my girl is too proud to go into a +family where she is not welcome." + +"Much too proud for that," said Ruperta. + +He left her smarting under that suggestion. + +While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Bassett came home. +She was in raptures with Lady Bassett, and told her daughter all that +had passed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett to +take her to Huntercombe to-morrow. + +"Me, dear!" cried Ruperta; "why, what can she want of me?" + +"All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In my +opinion, you will be _very_ welcome to poor Lady Bassett." + +"Is she very ill?" + +Mrs. Bassett shook her head. "She is much changed. She says she should +be better if we were all at peace; but I don't know." + +"Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow." + +They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Bassett +received them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty and +womanly appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in a +moment. She spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion to +turn to the daughter, and to say, "May I hope, Miss Bassett, that you +are on the side of peace, like your dear mother and myself?" + +"I am," said Ruperta, firmly; "I always was--especially after that +beautiful sermon, you know, mamma." + +Says the proud mother, "You might tell Lady Bassett you think it is +your mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles." + +"Mamma!" said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. "If +you tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me +very presumptuous." + +"No, no," said Lady Bassett, "enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm +is beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth." + +"I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have no +enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me." + +"And so they are," said Lady Bassett warmly. + +But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I +can only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta a +beautiful and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and +Ruperta was charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touched +and interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made +friends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things had +passed between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she had +at heart. "My dear," said she to Ruperta, "when I first saw you, I +wondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so much +more advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I think +the poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all my +sympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just put +in my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bear +for my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear." + +"Thank you, Lady Bassett," said Mrs. Bassett; "and, since you have said +so much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to my +daughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THE +TIPPET." + +Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta only +blushed, and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the feats +of her childhood. + +Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly, +"You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for a +peacemaker partly." + +"My dear friend," said Lady Bassett, "you are speaking riddles to me; +what tippet?" + +"The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my +girl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me +keeping it, Lady Bassett--I know I was little better than a thief; but +it was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady +Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder, +you are a mother;" and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, "why do you keep +saying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years +of age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of +any other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand many +things, and, for one, you'll--under--stand--why I'm so--fool--ish; +seeing the sweet boy's mother ready--to cry--too--oh! oh! oh!" + +Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet cry +together in each other's arms. + +Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought not +to agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill. + +"And that is true, my good, sensible girl," said Mrs. Bassett; "but it +has lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it to +myself any longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so I +suppose you think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you +warm." + +"Don't say that, mamma," said Ruperta, reproachfully. "I spoke to dear +Compton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even." + +"All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my own +girl." + +"I never will, mamma." + +By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urged +to declare her real sentiments. + +By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest she +should be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle in +her own mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal tried +her hard. + +She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, pretty +firmly and very slowly, "I had always a great affection for my cousin +Compton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but a +boy; now I--" + +A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty and +conscious womanhood, completed the sentence. + +"He will get older every day," said Mrs. Bassett. + +"And so shall I." + +"But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your full +growth. He hasn't." + +"I agree with the dear girl," said Lady Bassett, adroitly. "Compton, +with his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present. +But it is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage; +what I fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. To +speak plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, and +visits at Highmore." + +"Yes, he has been there twice." + +"He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and he +is not a boy, for he has long mustaches." + +"I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects," +said the fair young beauty. + +"You are an extraordinary girl." + +"That she is," said Mrs. Bassett. "Her father has no more power over +her than I have." + +"Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?" + +"No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way." + +Lady Bassett put in her word. "Well, but this one thing is the +happiness or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for looking +well before she leaps." + +A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker. + +"But," said Lady Bassett, tenderly, "it is something to have two +mothers when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, my +love; I would try and live for you." + +This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett's +neck, and they kissed each other like mother and daughter. + +"This is too great a temptation," said Ruperta. "Yes; I _will_ engage +myself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Without +his consent I could not marry any one." + +"Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot," said Mrs. Bassett. + +Ruperta shook her head. "Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years to +gain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate +as fifty." + +"It shall not take years, nor yet months," said Lady Bassett. "I know +_Mr. Bassett's_ objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may." + +This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply. + +Said Lady Bassett firmly, "Do you pledge yourself to me, if I can +obtain Mr. Bassett's consent?" + +"I do," said Ruperta. "But--" + +"You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hope +to show you you are mistaken." + +The ladies rose to go: Lady Bassett took leave of them thus: "Good-by, +my most valued friend, and sister in sorrow; good-by, my dear +daughter." + + + +At the gate of Huntercombe, whom should they meet but Compton Bassett, +looking very pale and unhappy. + +He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta; but he gazed on her with a +wistful and terrified look that was very touching. She gave him a soft +pitying smile in return, that drove him almost wild with hope. + +That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. + +When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their soft accents, he +returned short, surly answers. Evidently a storm was brewing. + +At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta's repeated visits to +Huntercombe Hall. "You are not dealing fairly with me, you two," said +he. "I allowed you to go once to see a woman that says she is very ill; +but I warned you she was the cunningest woman in creation, and would +make a fool of you both; and now I find you are always going. This will +not do. She is netting two simple birds that I have the care of. Now, +listen to me; I forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. Do +you hear me?" + +"We hear you, papa," said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; "we must be deaf, if +we did not." + +Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. + +"It is not a request, it is a command." + +Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. "And a most tyrannical +one," said she. + +Ruperta put her hand before her mother's mouth, then turned to her +father. + +"There was no need to express your wish so harshly, papa. We shall +obey." + +Then she whispered her mother, "And Mr. Rutland shall pay for it." + +Mrs. Bassett communicated this behest to Lady Bassett in a letter. + +Then Lady Bassett summoned all her courage, and sent for her son +Compton. "Compton," said she, "I must speak to Reginald. Can you find +him?" + +"Oh yes, I can find him. I am sorry to say anybody can find him at this +time of day." + +"Why, where is he?" + +"I hardly like to tell you." + +"Do you think his peculiarities have escaped me?" + +"At the public-house." + +"Ask him to come to me." + + + +Compton went to the public-house, and there, to his no small disgust, +found Mr. Reginald Bassett playing the fiddle, and four people, men and +women, dancing to the sound, while one or two more smoked and looked +on. + +Compton restrained himself till the end of that dance, and then stepped +up to Reginald and whispered him, "Mamma wants to see you directly." + +"Tell her I'm busy." + +"I shall tell her nothing of the kind. You know she is very ill, and +has not seen you yet; and now she wants to. So come along at once, like +a good fellow." + +"Youngster," said Reginald, "it is a rule with me never to leave a +young woman for an old one." + +"Not for your mother?" + +"No, nor my grandmother either." + +"Then you were born without a heart. But you shall come, whether you +like it or not--though I have to drag you there by the throat." + +"Learn to spell 'able' first." + +"I'll spell it on your head, if you don't come." + +"Oh, that is the game, young un, is it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, don't let us have a shindy on the bricks; there is a nice little +paddock outside. Come out there and I'll give you a lesson." + +"Thank you; I don't feel inclined to assist you in degrading our +family." + +"Chaps that are afraid to fight shouldn't threaten. Come now, the first +knock-down blow shall settle it. If I win, you stay here and dance with +us. If you win, I go to the old woman." + +Compton consented, somewhat reluctantly; but to do him justice, his +reluctance arose entirely from his sense of relationship, and not from +any fear of his senior. + +The young gentlemen took off their coats, and proceeded to spar without +any further ceremony. + +Reginald, whose agility was greater than his courage, danced about on +the tips of his toes, and succeeded in planting a tap or two on +Compton's cheek. + +Compton smarted under these, and presently, in following his +antagonist, who fought like a shadow, he saw Ruperta and her mother +looking horror-stricken over the palings. + +Infuriated with Reginald for this exposure, he rushed in at him, +received a severe cut over the eye, but dealt him with his mighty +Anglo-Saxon arm a full straightforward smasher on the forehead, which +knocked him head over heels like a nine-pin. + +That active young man picked himself up wondrous slowly; rheumatism +seemed to have suddenly seized his well-oiled joints; he then addressed +his antagonist, in his most ingratiating tones--"All right, sir," said +he. "You are the best man. I'll go to the old lady this minute." + +"I'll see you go," said Compton, sternly; "and mind I can run as well +as hit: so none of your gypsy tricks with me." + +Then he came sheepishly to the palings and said, "It is not my fault, +Miss Bassett; he would not come to mamma without, and she wants to +speak to him." + +"Oh! he is hurt! he is wounded!" cried Ruperta. "Come here to me." + +He came to her, and she pressed her white handkerchief tenderly on his +eyebrow; it was bleeding a little. + +"Well, are you coming?" said Reginald, ironically, "or do _you_ like +young women better than old ones?" + +Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, laid his hand on +the palings, vaulted over, and followed Reginald. + +"That's your _boy,"_ said Mrs. Bassett. + +Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp. + +"What is the matter, darling?" + +"The fighting--the blood"--said Ruperta, sobbing. + +Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed her. + +When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, they rather enjoyed +the thing, especially Ruperta: she detested Reginald for his character, +and for having insulted her father. + +All of a sudden, she cried out, "He has taken my handkerchief. How dare +he?" And she affected anger. + +"Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, "we have got his +tippet." + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +COULD any one have looked through the keyhole at Lady Bassett waiting +for Reginald, he would have seen, by the very movements of her body, +the terrible agitation of the mind. She rose--she sat down--she walked +about with wild energy--she dropped on the sofa, and appeared to give +it up as impossible; but ere long that deadly languor gave way to +impatient restlessness again. + +At last her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, accompanied by +no rustle of petticoats, and yet the footstep was not Compton's. + +Instantly she glanced with momentary terror toward the door. + +There was a tap. + +She sat down, and said, with a tone from which all agitation was +instantly banished, "Come in." + +The door opened, and the swarthy Reginald, diabolically handsome, with +his black snaky curls, entered the room. + +She rose from her chair, and fixed her great eyes on him, as if she +would read him soul and body before she ventured to speak. + +"Here I am, mamma: sorry to see you look so ill." + +"Thank you, my dear," said Lady Bassett, without relaxing for a moment +that searching gaze. + +She said, still covering him with her eye, "Would you cure me if you +could?" + +To appreciate this opening, and Lady Bassett's sweet engaging manner, +you must understand that this young man was, in her eyes, a sort of +black snake. Her flesh crept, with fear and repugnance, at the sight of +him. Yet that is how she received him, being a mother defending her +favorite son. + +"Of course I would," said Reginald. "Just you tell me how." + +Excellent words. But the lady's calm infallible eye saw a cunning +twinkle in those black twinkling orbs. Young as he was, he was on his +guard, and waiting for her. Nor was this surprising: Reginald, +naturally intelligent, had accumulated a large stock of low cunning in +his travels and adventures with the gypsies, a smooth and cunning +people. Lady Bassett's fainting upon his return, his exclusion from her +room, and one or two minor circumstances, had set him thinking. + +The moment she saw that look, Lady Bassett, with swift tact, glided +away from the line she had intended to open, and, after merely thanking +him, and saying, "I believe you, dear," though she did not believe him, +she resumed, in a very impressive tone, "You see me worse than ever +to-day, because my mind is in great trouble. The time is come when I +must tell you a secret, which will cause you a bitter disappointment. +Why I send for you is, to see whether I cannot do something for you to +make you happy, in spite of that cruel disappointment." + +Not a word from Reginald. + +"Mr. Bassett--forgive me, if you can--for I am the most miserable woman +in England--you are not the heir to this place; you are not Sir Charles +Bassett's son." + +"What!" shouted the young man. + +Her fortitude gave way for a moment. She shook her head, in +confirmation of what she had said, and hid her burning face and +scalding tears in her white and wasted hands. + +There was a long silence. + +Reginald was asking himself if this could be true, or was it a maneuver +to put her favorite Compton over his head. + +Lady Bassett looked up, and saw this paltry suspicion in his face. She +dried her tears directly, and went to a bureau, unlocked it, and +produced the manuscript confession she had prepared for her husband. + +She bade Reginald observe the superscription and the date. + +When he had done so, she took her scissors and opened it for him. + +"Read what I wrote to my beloved husband at a time when I expected soon +to appear before my Judge." + +She then sank upon the sofa, and lay there like a log; only, from time +to time, during the long reading, tears trickled from her eyes. + +Reginald read the whole story, and saw the facts must be true: more +than that, being young, and a man, he could not entirely resist the +charm of a narrative in which a lady told at full the love, the grief, +the terror, the sufferings, of her heart, and the terrible temptation +under which she had gone astray. + +He laid it down at last, and drew a long breath. + +"It's a devil of a job for _me,"_ said he; "but I can't blame you. You +sold that Dick Bassett, and I hate him. But what is to become of _me?"_ + +"What I offer you is a life in which you will be happier than you ever +could be at Huntercombe. I mean to buy you vast pasture-fields in +Australia, and cattle to feed. Those noble pastures will be bounded +only by wild forests and hills. You will have swift horses to ride over +your own domain, or to gallop hundreds of miles at a stretch, if you +like. No confinement there; no fences and boundaries; all as free as +air. No monotony: one week you can dig for gold, another you can ride +among your flocks, another you can hunt. All this in a climate so +delightful that you can lie all night in the open air, without a +blanket, under a new firmament of stars, not one of which illumines the +dull nights of Europe." + +The bait was too tempting. "Well, you _are_ the right sort," cried +Reginald. + +But presently he began to doubt. "But all that will cost a lot of +money." + +"It will, but I have a great deal of money." + +Reginald thought, and said, suspiciously, "I don't know why you should +do all this for me." + +"Do you not? What! when I have brought you into this family, and +encouraged you in such vast expectations, could I, in honor and common +humanity, let you fall into poverty and neglect? No. I have many +thousand pounds, all my own, and you will have them all, and perhaps +waste them all; but it will take you some time, because, while you are +wasting, I shall be saving more for you." + +Then there was a pause, each waiting for the other. + +Then Lady Bassett said, quietly, and with great apparent composure, "Of +course there is a condition attached to all this." + +"What is that?" + +"I must receive from you a written paper, signed by yourself and by +Mrs. Meyrick, acknowledging that you are not Sir Charles's son, but +distinctly pledging yourself to keep the secret so long as I continue +to furnish you with the means of living. You hesitate. Is it not fair?" + +"Well, it looks fair; but it is an awkward thing, signing a paper of +that sort." + +"You doubt me, sir; you think that, because I have told one great +falsehood, from good but erring motives, I may break faith with you. Do +not insult me with these doubts, sir. Try and understand that there are +ladies and gentlemen in the world, though you prefer gypsies. Have you +forgotten that night when you laid me under so deep a debt, and I told +you I never would forget it? From that day was I not always your +friend? was I not always the one to make excuses for you?" + +Reginald assented to that. + +"Then trust me. I pledge you my honor that I am this day the best +friend you ever had, or ever can have. Refuse to sign that paper, and I +shall soon be in my grave, leaving behind me my confession, and other +evidence, on which you will be dismissed from this house with ignominy, +and without a farthing; for your best friend will be dead, and you will +have killed her." + +He looked at her full: he said, with a shade of compunction, "I am not +a gentleman, but you are a lady. I'll trust you. I'll sign anything you +like." + +"That confidence becomes you," said Lady Bassett; "and now I have no +objection to show you I deserve it. Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, by +which you may learn I have already placed three thousand pounds to his +account, to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where he +has many confidential friends; and this is a check for five hundred +pounds I drew in your favor yesterday. Do me the favor to take it." + +He did her that favor with sparkling eyes. + +"Now here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your signature will be +of little value to me without Mary Meyrick's." + +"Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her." + +"Are you sure? Men can be brought to take a dispassionate view of their +own interest, but women are not so wise. Take it, and try her. If she +refuses, bring her to me _directly._ Do you understand? Otherwise, in +one fatal hour, her tongue will ruin _you,_ and destroy me." + +Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. Meyrick, and told +her, in an off-hand way, she must sign that paper directly. + +She looked at it and turned very white, but went on her guard directly. + +"Sign such a wicked lie as that!" said she. "That I never will. You +_are_ his son, and Huntercombe shall be yours. She is an unnatural +mother." + +"Gammon!" said Reginald. "You might as well say a fox is the son of a +gander. Come now; I am not going to let you cut my throat with your +tongue. Sign at once, or else come to her this moment and tell her so." + +"That I will," said Mary Meyrick, "and give her my mind." + + + +This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she cast eyes upon +Lady Bassett, and saw how wan and worn she looked. + +She moderated her violence, and said, sullenly, "Sorry to gainsay +_you,_ my lady, and you so ill, but this is a paper I never can sign. +It would rob him of Huntercombe. I'd sooner cut my hand off at the +wrist." + +"Nonsense, Mary!" said Lady Bassett, contemptuously. + +She then proceeded to reason with her, but it was no use. Mary would +not listen to reason, and defied her at last in a loud voice. + +"Very well," said Lady Bassett. "Then since you will not do it my way, +it shall be done another way. I shall put my confession in Sir +Charles's hands, and insist on his dismissing him from the house, and +you from your farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended for +Reginald I shall leave to Compton." + +"These are idle words, my lady. You daren't." + +"I dare anything when once I make up my mind to die." + +She rang the bell. + +Mary Meyrick affected contempt. + +A servant came to the door. + +"Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately." + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +"DON'T you be a fool," said Reginald to his nurse. + +"Sir Charles will send you to prison for it," said Lady Bassett. + +"For what I done along with you?" + +"Oh, he will not punish his wife; he will look out for some other +victim." + +"Sign, you d--d old fool!" cried Reginald, seizing Mary Meyrick roughly +by the arm. + +Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of majestic +horror. She held up her hand, and said, "Do not dare to lay a finger on +her!" + +Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign the paper. + +While she was signing it, Sir Charles's step was heard in the corridor. + +He knocked at the door just as she signed. Reginald had signed already. + +Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, and the book into +the bureau, and said "Come in," with an appearance of composure belied +by her beating heart. + +"Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear." + +In those few seconds so perfect a liar as Mary Meyrick had quite +recovered herself. + +"If you please, sir," said she, "I be come to ast if you will give us a +new lease, for ourn it is run out." + +"You had better talk to the steward about that." + +"Very well, sir," and she made her courtesy. + +Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do. + +"My dear," said Lady Bassett, "Reginald has come to bid us good-by. He +is going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and take his advice, if you have no +objection." + +"None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with more respect than he +does mine." + +Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, when Lady Bassett +said, "Won't you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away?" + +He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his ear, "Be true to +me, as I will be to you." + +Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with exhaustion. She +lay on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat beside her, and made her drink a +glass of wine. + +She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she slept: a load was +off her mind for the present. + +Next day she was so much better she came down to dinner. + +What she now hoped was, that entire separation, coupled with the memory +of the boy's misdeeds, would cure Sir Charles entirely of his affection +for Reginald; and so that, after about twenty years more of conjugal +fidelity, she might find courage to reveal to her husband the fault of +her youth at a time when all its good results remained to help excuse +it, and all its bad results had vanished. + +Such was the plan this extraordinary woman conceived, and its success +so far had a wonderful effect on her health. + +But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear either from Reginald +or Mr. Rolfe. That made her a little anxious. + +On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry flush on his brow, +whether she had not sent Reginald up to London. + +"Yes, dear," said Lady Bassett. + +"Well, he is not gone, then." + +"Oh!" + +"He is living at his nurse's. I saw him talking to an old gypsy that +lives on the farm." + +Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing. + +"Never mind, mamma," said Compton. "Your other children must love you +all the more." + +This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. She divined bad +faith and all manner of treachery, none the less terrible for being +vague. + +Down went her health again and her short-lived repose. + +Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm on a little +business of his own. + +He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, and was waiting +for a dark and gusty night. + +He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, spite and greed, +especially the latter. He would never have undertaken it with a 500 +pound check in his pocket; but some minds are so constituted they +cannot forego a bad design once formed: so Mr. Reginald persisted, +though one great motive existed no longer. + +On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him. + +The night was favorable, and at about two o'clock Reginald and the +foreign gent stood under Richard Bassett's dining-room window, with +crape over their eyes, noses and mouths, and all manner of unlawful +implements in their pockets. + +The foreign gent prized the shutters open with a little crowbar; he +then, with a glazier's diamond, soon cut out a small pane, inserted a +cunning hand and opened the window. + +Then Reginald gave him a leg, and he got into the room. + +The agile youth followed him without assistance. + +They lighted a sort of bull's-eye, and poured the concentrated light on +the cupboard door, behind which lay the treasure of glorious old plate. + +Then the foreign gent produced his skeleton keys, and after several +ineffective trials, opened the door softly and revealed the glittering +booty. + +At sight of it the foreign gent could not suppress an ejaculation, but +the younger one clapped his hand before his mouth hurriedly. + +The foreign gent unrolled a sort of green baize apron he had round him; +it was, in reality, a bag. + +Into this receptacle the pair conveyed one piece of plate after another +with surprising dexterity, rapidity, and noiseless-ness. When it was +full, they began to fill the deep pockets of their shooting-jackets. + +While thus employed, they heard a rapid footstep, and Richard Bassett +opened the door. He was in his trousers and shirt, and had a pistol in +his hand. + +At sight of him Reginald uttered a cry of dismay; the foreign gent blew +out the light. + +Richard Bassett, among whose faults want of personal courage was not +one, rushed forward and collared Reginald. + +But the foreign gent had raised the crowbar to defend himself, and +struck him a blow on the head that made him stagger back. + +The foreign gent seized this opportunity, and ran at once at the window +and jumped at it. + +If Reginald had been first, he would have gone through like a cat, but +the foreign gent, older, and obstructed by the contents of his pocket, +higgled and stuck a few seconds in the window. + +That brief delay was fatal; Richard Bassett leveled his pistol +deliberately at him, fired, and sent a ball through his shoulder; he +fell like a log upon the ground outside. + +Richard then leveled another barrel at Reginald, but he howled out for +quarter, and was immediately captured, and with the assistance of the +brave Jessie, who now came boldly to her master's aid, his hands were +tied behind him and he was made prisoner, with the stolen articles in +his pocket. + +When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said it was only a lark; he +never meant to keep anything. He offered a hundred pounds down if they +would let him off. + +But there was no mercy for him. + +Richard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected the prisoner. He +lifted his crape veil, and said "Oho!" + +"You see it was only a lark," said Reginald, and shook in every limb. + +Richard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He gave Jessie strict +orders to hold her tongue, and she and he between them took Reginald +and locked him up in a small room adjoining the kitchen. + +They then went to look for the other burglar. + +He had emptied his pockets of all the plate, and crawled away. It is +supposed he threw away the plate, either to soften Reginald's offense, +or in the belief that he had received his death wound, and should not +require silver vessels where he was going. + +Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, and told Jessie to +light the fire and make him a cup of coffee. + +He replaced all the plate, except the articles left in Reginald's +pocket. + +Then he went upstairs, and told his wife that burglars had broken into +the house, but had taken nothing; she was to give herself no anxiety. +He told her no more than this, for his dark and cruel nature had +already conceived an idea he did not care to communicate to her, on +account of the strong opposition he foresaw from so good a Christian: +besides, of late, since her daughter came home to back her, she had +spoken her mind more than once. + +He kept them then in the dark, and went downstairs again to his coffee. + +He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. + +All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from Huntercombe +returned to his mind; and now, with one masterstroke he would balance +them all. + +Yet he felt a little compunction. + +Active hostilities had ceased for many years. + +Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to his wife. The +blow he meditated was very cruel: would not his wife and daughter say +it was barbarous? Would not his own heart, the heart of a father, +reproach him afterward? + +These misgivings, that would have restrained a less obstinate man, +irritated Richard Bassett: he went into a rage, and said aloud, "I must +do it: I will do it, come what may." + +He told Jessie he valued her much: she should have a black silk gown +for her courage and fidelity; but she must not be faithful by halves. +She must not breathe one word to any soul in the house that the burglar +was there under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her out of the +house that moment. + +"Hets!" said the woman, "der ye think I canna haud my whist, when the +maister bids me? I'm nae great clasher at ony time, for my pairt." + +At seven o'clock in the morning he sent a note to Sir Charles Bassett, +to say that his house had been attacked last night by two armed +burglars; he and his people had captured one, and wished to take him +before a magistrate at once, since his house was not a fit place to +hold him secure. He concluded Sir Charles would not refuse him the +benefit of the law, however obnoxious he might be. + +Sir Charles's lips curled with contempt at the man who was not ashamed +to put such a doubt on paper. + +However, he wrote back a civil line, to say that of course he was at +Mr. Bassett's service, and would be in his justice-room at nine +o'clock. + +Meantime, Mr. Richard Bassett went for the constable and an assistant; +but, even to them, he would not say precisely what he wanted them for. + +His plan was to march an unknown burglar, with his crape on his face, +into Sir Charles's study, give his evidence, and then reveal the son to +the father. + +Jessie managed to hold her tongue for an hour or two, and nothing +occurred at Highmore or in Huntercombe to interfere with Richard +Bassett's barbarous revenge. + +Meantime, however, something remarkable had occurred at the distance of +a mile and a quarter. + +Mrs. Meyrick breakfasted habitually at eight o'clock. + +Reginald did not appear. + +Mrs. Meyrick went to his room, and satisfied herself he had not passed +the night there. + +Then she went to the foreign gent's shed. + +He was not there. + +Then she went out, and called loudly to them both. + +No answer. + +Then she went into the nearest meadow, to see if they were in sight. + +The first thing she saw was the foreign gent staggering toward her. + +"Drunk!" said she, and went to scold him; but, when she got nearer, she +saw at once that something very serious had happened. His dark face was +bloodless and awful, and he could hardly drag his limbs along; indeed +they had failed him a score of times between Highmore and that place. + +Just as she came up with him he sank once more to the ground, and +turned up two despairing eyes toward her. + +"Oh, daddy! what is it? Where's Reginald? Whatever have they done to +you?" + +"Brandy!" groaned the wounded man. + +She flew into the house, and returned in a moment with a bottle. She +put it to his lips. + +He revived and told her all, in a few words. + +"The young bloke and I went to crack a crib. I'm shot with a bullet. +Hide me in that loose hay there; leave me the bottle, and let nobody +come nigh me. The beak will be after me very soon." + +Then Mrs. Meyrick, being a very strong woman, dragged him to the +haystack, and covered him with loose hay. + +"Now," said she, trembling, "where's my boy?" + +"He's nabbed." + +"Oh!" + +"And he'll be lagged, unless you can beg him off." + +Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream. + +"You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him with five hundred pounds +in his pocket, and my lady's favor. Oh, why did we not keep our word +with her? She was the wisest, and our best friend. But it is all your +doing; you are the devil that tempted him, you old villain!" + +"Don't miscall me," said the gypsy. + +"Not miscall you, when you have run away, and left them to take my boy +to jail! No word is bad enough for you, you villain!" + +_"I'm your father--and a dying man,"_ said the old gypsy, calmly, and +folded his hands upon his breast with Oriental composure and decency. + +The woman threw herself on her knees. + +Forgive me, father--tell me, where is he?" + +"Highmore House." + +At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild horror, she uttered a +loud scream, and flew into the house. + +In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore. + +She reached that house, knocked hastily at the door, and said she must +see Mr. Richard Bassett that moment. + +"He is just gone out," said the maid. + +"Where to?" + +The girl knew her, and began to gossip. "Why, to Huntercombe Hall. +What! haven't you heard, Mrs. Meyrick? Master caught a robber last +night. Laws! you should have seen him: he have got crape all over his +face; and master, and the constable, and Mr. Musters, they be all gone +with him to Sir Charles, for to have him committed--the villain! Why, +what ails the woman?" + +For Mary Meyrick turned her back on the speaker, and rushed away in a +moment. + +She went through the kitchen at Huntercombe: she was so well known +there, nobody objected: she flew up the stairs, and into Lady Bassett's +bedroom. "Oh, my lady! my lady!" + +Lady Bassett screamed, at her sudden entrance and wild appearance. + +Mary Meyrick told her all in a few wild words. She wrung her hands with +a great fear. + +"It's no time for that," cried Mary, fiercely. "Come down this moment, +and save him." + +"How can I?" + +"You must! You shall!" cried the other. "Don't ask me how. Don't sit +wringing your hands, woman. If you are not there in five minutes to +save him, I'll tell all." + +"Have mercy on me!" cried Lady Bassett. "I gave him money, I sent him +away. It's not my fault." + +"No matter; he must be saved, or I'll ruin you. I can't stay here: I +must be there, and so must you." + +She rushed down the stairs, and tried to get into the justice-room, but +admission was refused her. + +Then she gave a sort of wild snarl, and ran round to the small room +adjoining the justice-room. Through this she penetrated, and entered +the justice-room, but not in time to prevent the evidence from being +laid before Sir Charles. + +What took place in the meantime was briefly this: The prisoner, +handcuffed now instead of tied, was introduced between the constable +and his assistant; the door was locked, and Sir Charles received Mr. +Bassett with a ceremonious bow, seated himself, and begged Mr. Bassett +to be seated. + +"Thank you," said Mr. Bassett, but did not seat himself. He stood +before the prisoner and gave his evidence; during which the prisoner's +knees were seen to knock together with terror: he was a young man fit +for folly, but not for felony. + +Said Richard Bassett, "I have a cupboard containing family plate. It is +valuable, and some years ago I passed a piece of catgut from the door +through the ceiling to a bell at my bedside. + +"Very late last night the bell sounded. I flung on my trousers, and +went down with a pistol. I caught two burglars in the act of rifling +the cupboard. I went to collar one; he struck me on the head with a +crowbar--constable, show the crowbar--I staggered, but recovered +myself, and fired at one of the burglars: he was just struggling +through the window. He fell, and I thought he was dead, but he got +away. I secured the other, and here he is--just as he was when I took +him. Constable, search his pockets." + +The constable did so, and produced therefrom several pieces of silver +plate stamped with the Bassett arms. + +"My servant here can confirm this," added Mr. Bassett. + +"It is not necessary here," said Sir Charles. Then to the criminal, +"Have you anything to say?" + +"It was only a lark," quavered the poor wretch. + +"I would not advise you to say that where you are going." + +He then, while writing out the warrant, said, as a matter of course, +"Remove his mask." + +The constable lifted it, and started back with a shout of dismay and +surprise: Jessie screamed. + +Sir Charles looked up, and saw in the burglar he was committing for +trial his first-born, the heir to his house and his lands. + +The pen fell from Sir Charles's fingers, and he stared at the wan face, +and wild, imploring eyes that stared at him. + +He stared at the lad, and then put his hand to his heart, and that +heart seemed to die within him. + +There was a silence, and a horror fell on all. Even Richard Bassett +quailed at what he had done. + +"Ah! cruel man! cruel man!" moaned the broken father. "God judge you +for this--as now I must judge my unhappy son. Mr. Bassett, it matters +little to you what magistrate commits you, and I must keep my oath. I +am--going--to set you an--example, by signing a warrant--" + +"No, no, no!" cried a woman's voice, and Mary Meyrick rushed into the +room. + +Every person there thought he knew Mary Meyrick; yet she was like a +stranger to them now. There was that in her heart at that awful moment +which transfigured a handsome but vulgar woman into a superior being. +Her cheek was pale, her black eyes large, and her mellow voice had a +magic power. "You don't know what you are doing!" she cried. "Go no +farther, or you will all curse the hand that harmed a hair of his head; +you, most of all, Richard Bassett." + +Sir Charles, in any other case, would have sent her out of the room; +but, in his misery, he caught at the straw. + +"Speak out, woman," he said, "and save the wretched boy, if you can. I +see no way." + +"There are things it is not fit to speak before all the world. Bid +those men go, and I'll open your eyes that stay." + +Then Richard Bassett foresaw another triumph, so he told the constable +and his man they had better retire for a few minutes, "while," said he, +with a sneer, "these wonderful revelations are being made." + +When they were gone, Mary turned to Richard Bassett, and said "Why do +you want him sent to prison?--to spite Sir Charles here, to stab his +heart through his son." + +Sir Charles groaned aloud. + +The woman heard, and thought of many things. She flung herself on her +knees, and seized his hand. "Don't you cry, my dear old master; mine is +the only heart shall bleed. HE IS NOT YOUR SON." + +"What!" cried Sir Charles, in a terrible voice. + +"That is no news to me," said Richard. "He is more like the parson than +Sir Charles Bassett." + +"For shame! for shame!" cried Mary Meyrick. "Oh, it becomes you to give +fathers to children when you don't know your own flesh and blood! He is +YOUR SON, RICHARD BASSETT." + + + +_"My_ son!" roared Bassett, in utter amazement. + +"Ay. I should know; FOR I AM HIS MOTHER." + +This astounding statement was uttered with all the majesty of truth, +and when she said "I am his mother," the voice turned tender all in a +moment. + +They were all paralyzed; and, absorbed in this strange revelation, did +not hear a tottering footstep: a woman, pale as a corpse, and with eyes +glaring large, stood among them, all in a moment, as if a ghost had +risen from the earth. + +It was Lady Bassett. + +At sight of her, Sir Charles awoke from the confusion and amazement +into which Mary had thrown him, and said, "Ah--! Bella, do you hear +what she says, that he is not our son? What, then, have you agreed with +your servant to deceive your husband?" + +Lady Bassett gasped, and tried to speak; but before the words would +come, the sight of her corpse-like face and miserable agony moved Mary +Wells, and she snatched the words out of her mouth. + +"What is the use of questioning _her?_ She knows no more than you do. I +done it all; and done it for the best. My lady's child died; I hid that +from her; for I knew it would kill her, and keep you in a mad-house. I +done for the best: I put my live child by her side, and she knew no +better. As time went on, and the boy so dark, she suspected; but know +it she couldn't till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there stands +his cruel father; cruel to me, and cruel to him. But don't you dare to +harm him; I've got all your letters, promising me marriage; I'll take +them to your wife and daughter, and they shall know it is your own +flesh and blood you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to threaten +him! my darling, speak him fair; he is your father; he may have a bit +of nature in his heart somewhere, though I could never find it." + +The young man put his hands together, like an Oriental, and said, +"Forgive me," then sank at Richard Bassett's knees. + +Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife's arm and led her, +trembling like an aspen leaf, from the room. + +Perhaps the prayers of Reginald and the tears of his mother would alone +have sufficed to soften Richard Bassett, but the threat of exposure to +his wife and daughter did no harm. The three soon came to terms. + +Reginald to be liberated on condition of going to London by the next +train, and never setting his foot in that parish again. His mother to +go with him, and see him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herself +not to reveal the boy's real parentage to any other soul in the world. + +This being settled, Richard Bassett called the constable in, and said +the young gentleman had satisfied him that it was a practical joke, +though a very dangerous one, and he withdrew the charge of felony. + +The constable said he must have Sir Charles's authority for that. + +A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The prisoner was released, +and Mary Meyrick took his arm sharply, as much as to say, "Out of my +hands you go no more." + +Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now master of himself, +said, with deep feeling, "My poor boy, you can never be a stranger to +me. The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment. You see now +how folly glides into crime, and crime into punishment. Take this to +heart, and never again stray from the paths of honor. Lead an honorable +life; and, if you do, write to me as if I was still your father." + +They retired, but Richard Bassett lingered, and hung his head. + +Sir Charles wondered what this inveterate foe could have to say now. + +At last Richard said, half sullenly, yet with a touch of compunction, +"Sir Charles, you have been more generous than I was. You have laid me +under an obligation." + +Sir Charles bowed loftily. + +"You would double that obligation if you would prevail on Lady Bassett +to keep that old folly of mine secret from my wife and daughter. I am +truly ashamed of it; and, whatever my faults may have been, they love +and respect me." + +"Mr. Bassett," said Sir Charles, "my son Compton must be told that he +is my heir; but no details injurious to you shall transpire: you may +count on absolute secrecy from Lady Bassett and myself." + +"Sir Charles," said Richard Bassett, faltering for a moment, "I am very +much obliged to you, and I begin to be sorry we are enemies. +Good-morning." + +The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed Lady Bassett on +the spot. She lay all that day in a state of utter prostration. + +Meantime Sir Charles put this and that together, but said nothing. He +spoke cheerfully and philosophically to his wife--said it had been a +fearful blow, terrible wrench: but it was all for the best; such a son +as that would have broken his heart before long. + +"Ah, but your wasted affections!" groaned Lady Bassett; and her tears +streamed at the thought. + +Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while, "Is affection ever +entirely wasted? My love for that young fool enlarged my heart. There +was a time he did me a deal of good." + +But next day, having only herself to think of now, Lady Bassett could +live no longer under the load of deceit. She told Sir Charles Mary +Meyrick had deceived him. "Read this," she said, "and see what your +miserable wife has done, who loved you to madness and crime." + +Sir Charles looked at her, and saw in her wasted form and her face +that, if he did read it, he should kill her; so he played the man: he +restrained himself by a mighty effort, and said, "My dear, excuse me; +but on this matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick's exactness than +in yours. Besides, I know your heart, and don't care to be told of your +errors in judgment, no, not even by yourself. Sorry to offend an +authoress; but I decline to read your book, and, more than that, I +forbid you the subject entirely for the next thirty years, at least. +Let by-gones be by-gones." + + + +That eventful morning Mr. Rutland called and proposed to Ruperta. She +declined politely, but firmly. + +She told Mrs. Bassett, and Mrs. Bassett told Richard in a nervous way, +but his answer surprised her. He said he was very glad of it; Ruperta +could do better. + +Mrs. Bassett could not resist the pleasure of telling Lady Bassett. She +went over on purpose, with her husband's consent. + +Lady Bassett asked to see Ruperta. "By all means," said Richard +Bassett, graciously. + +On her return to Highmore, Ruperta asked leave to go to the Hall every +day and nurse Lady Bassett. "They will let her die else," said she. +Richard Bassett assented to that, too. Ruperta, for some weeks, almost +lived at the Hall, and in this emergency revealed great qualities. As +the malevolent small-pox, passing through the gentle cow, comes out the +sovereign cow-pox, so, in this gracious nature, her father's vices +turned to their kindred virtues; his obstinacy of purpose shone here a +noble constancy; his audacity became candor, and his cunning wisdom. +Her intelligence saw at once that Lady Bassett was pining to death, and +a weak-minded nurse would be fatal: she was all smiles and brightness, +and neglected no means to encourage the patient. + +With this view, she promised to plight her faith to Compton the moment +Lady Bassett should be restored to health; and so, with hopes and +smiles, and the novelty of a daughter's love, she fought with death for +Lady Bassett, and at last she won the desperate battle. + +This did Richard Bassett's daughter for her father's late enemy. + +The grateful husband wrote to Bassett, and now acknowledged _his_ +obligation. + +A civil, mock-modest reply from Richard Bassett. + +From this things went on step by step, till at last Compton and +Ruperta, at eighteen years of age, were formally betrothed. + +Thus the children's love wore out the father's hate. + +That love, so troubled at the outset, left, by degrees, the region of +romance, and rippled smoothly through green, flowery meadows. + +Ruperta showed her lover one more phase of girlhood; she, who had been +a precocious and forward child, and then a shy and silent girl, came +out now a bright and witty young woman, full of vivacity, modesty, and +sensibility. Time cured Compton of his one defect. Ruperta stopped +growing at fifteen, but Compton went slowly on; caught her at +seventeen, and at nineteen had passed her by a head. He won a +scholarship at Oxford, he rowed in college races, and at last in the +University race on the Thames. + +Ruperta stood, in peerless beauty, dark blue from throat to feet, and +saw his boat astern of his rival, saw it come up with, and creep ahead, +amid the roars of the multitude. When she saw her lover, with bare +corded arms, as brown as a berry, and set teeth, filling his glorious +part in that manly struggle within eight yards of her, she confessed he +was not a boy now. + +But Lady Bassett accepted no such evidence: being pestered to let them +marry at twenty years of age, she clogged her consent with one +condition--they must live three years at Huntercombe as man and wife. + +"No boy of twenty," said she, "can understand a young woman of that +age. I must be in the house to prevent a single misunderstanding +between my beloved children." + +The young people, who both adored her, voted the condition reasonable. +They were married, and a wing of the spacious building allotted to +them. + +For their sakes let us hope that their wedded life, now happily +commenced, will furnish me no materials for another tale: the happiest +lives are uneventful. + +The foreign gent recovered his wound, but acquired rheumatism and a +dislike for midnight expeditions. + +Reginald galloped a year or two over seven hundred miles of colony, +sowing his wild oats as he flew, but is now a prosperous squatter, very +fond of sleeping in the open air. England was not big enough for the +bold Bohemian. He does very well where he is. + +Old Meyrick died, and left his wife a little estate in the next county. +Drake asked her hand at the funeral. She married him in six months, and +migrated to the estate in question; for Sir Charles refused her a lease +of his farm, not choosing to have her near him. + +Her new abode was in the next parish to her sister's. + +La Marsh set herself to convert Mary, and often exhorted her to +penitence; she bore this pretty well for some time, being overawed by +old reminiscences of sisterly superiority: but at last her vanity +rebelled. "Repent! and Repent!" cried she. "Why you be like a cuckoo, +all in one song. One would think I had been and robbed a church. 'Tis +all very well for you to repent, as led a fastish life at starting: +_but I never done nothing as I'm ashamed on."_ + + + +Richard Bassett said one day to Wheeler, "Old fellow, there is not a +worse poison than Hate. It has made me old before my time. And what +does it all come to? We might just as well have kept quiet; for my +grandson will inherit Huntercombe and Bassett, after all--" + +"Thanks to the girl you would not ring the bells for." + + + +Sir Charles and Lady Bassett lead a peaceful life after all their +troubles, and renew their youth in their children, of whom Ruperta is +one, and as dear as any. + +Yet there is a pensive and humble air about Lady Bassett, which shows +she still expiates her fault, though she knows it will always be +ignored by him for whose sake she sinned. + +In summing her up, it may be as well to compare this with the unmixed +self-complacency of Mrs. Drake. + +You men and women, who judge this Bella Bassett, be firm, and do not +let her amiable qualities or her good intentions blind you in a plain +matter of right and wrong: be charitable, and ask yourselves how often +in your lives you have seen yourselves, or any other human being, +resist a terrible temptation. + +My experience is, that we resist other people's temptations nobly, and +succumb to our own. + +So let me end with a line of England's gentlest satirist-- + +"Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be." + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Terrible Temptation, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION *** + +This file should be named terrb10.txt or terrb10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, terrb11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, terrb10a.txt + +Produced by James Rusk + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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