Vellenaux A Novel by Edmund William Forrest (booksvooks txt) 📕

Supposing It To Contain Cosmetics,  Or What Was More Probable,  Chinaum

And Beetle Nut,  Hurriedly Slipped It Into His Sabretache; But Not

Succeeding In Finding The Begum,  Who Had Evaded The Pursuit,  Arthur,

With His Dragoons,  Returned To Camp. The Same Evening The Three Villains

Already Condemned Were Executed.

But The Youth Who Had Acted As Guide Was Permitted To Escape,  Which He

Lost No Time In doing. The Little Force Was Then Broken Up,  And The

Troop Composing It Sent Back To Their Respective Corps,  While Our Hero

And His Dragoons Joined Their Regiment,  And With It Saw A Great Deal Of

Hard Fighting And Rough Service,  And On More Than One Occasion His

Dashing Conduct Had Been Brought To The Notice Of The Indian Government.

The Return Of The Troop From Persia,  And The Efficient Manner In Which

The Brigades Under Sir Hugh Rose,  Havelock,  Mitchell,  Whitlock And

Others Were Handled,  Proved Too Much For The Mutineers,  And After An

Obstinate Contest Which Lasted Over Two Years,  During Which Time A Heavy

Loss Of Life Had Been Sustained On Both Sides,  The Rebellious Native

Troops Were Beaten At All Points,  And Law And Order Once More Restored

Throughout The Country.

Trying.

It Was Summer,  Bright,  Glorious,  Balmy Summer. The Birds Sang And

Chirped Among The Green Leaves,  And Wood Pigeons Cooed In The Hollow

Trunks Of The Trees,  Beneath Whose Outspreading Branches,  Little

Four-Footed Creatures Gamboled And Made Merry Among The Soft Feathery

Grasses That Grew In The Fine Old Beech Woods Of Devon. It Was Pleasant

To Listen To The Cool,  Gurgling Sound Of The Brawling Brook,  Whose

Bright Waters Skipped,  Danced And Glittered,  As They Forced Their Way

Over The Pebbles And Other Impediments In Their Serpentine Course Along

The Shady Dell That Skirted The Home Park,  Wherein,  Under The Venerable

Oaks,  The Red And Fallow Deer Rested,  Dreamily Sniffing The Delicious

Fragrance That Pervaded The Air,  Borne Upon The Light Summer Wind From

The Rich Parterre Which Stretched The Entire Length Of The South Wing At

Vellenaux.

In A Large Octagon-Shaped Apartment That Had Been Fitted Up As A

Library,  The Most Pleasing Feature Of Which Was Its Southern Aspect,

Were Seated _Tete A Tete_ Two Personages,  Who Figured Somewhat

Conspicuously In The Early Part Of Our Story,  These Were Mrs. Fraudhurst

And Sir Ralph Coleman. They Had Met Here At The Request Of The Baronet,

For Sir Ralph And The Widow Rarely Met Except By Appointment Or At The

Dinner Table.

Time Had Dealt Kindly With The Lady,  And What Was Deficient By Nature

Was Supplied By Art,  For She Was One Of Those Who Always Paid The Most

Scrupulous Attention To Their Toilette. If We Were To Describe Her As

Fat,  Fair,  And Forty,  We Should Certainly Wrong Her. Fair And Forty She

Undoubtedly Was,  But Fat She Certainly Was Not. There Was A Slight

Tendency To Embonpoint,  But This Was Relieved By Her Tall And Not

Ungraceful Figure. She Was What Might Be Termed A Decidedly Handsome

Woman. The Corpulent Lawyer Had Subsided Into The Sleek,

Well-Conditioned Country Gentleman. But There Was At Times A Certain

Restlessness Of The Eye,  And A Nervous Twitching At The Corners Of The

Mouth,  Which,  To A Keen Observer,  Would Indicate That He Was Not Always

The Quiet,  Self-Possessed Person That He Would Have His Neighbors To

Believe. The Business On Which They Had Met Had Been Interrupted By The

Entrance Of A Servant With A Note To Sir Ralph,  But,  On His Leaving The

Room,  The Conversation Was Resumed By Mrs. Fraudhurst Saying:

"I Would Much Rather,  Sir Ralph,  That This Subject Be Now Discontinued,

And Never Again Reverted To. The Papers To Which You Allude Are

Perfectly Safe In My Hands,  And I Do Not See That Any Good Could Accrue

By My Transferring Them To You,  Certainly None To Myself,  And It Might

Militate Against Me; For The Great Anxiety You Evince To Get Possession

Of The Documents Leads Me To Believe That You Have Some Particular

Object In View,  Something Which Does Not Appear Or,  The Surface,  And

Which You Desire Should Not Come To My Knowledge."

"But,  My Dear Madam,  You Surely Do Not Imagine That I Have Any Other

Motive In Requesting You To Hand Over To My Safe Keeping The Deed In

Question Than A Natural Desire To Be Quite Certain That Our Mutual

Interests Should Not Be Imperilled By Any Accidental Circumstance That

Might Disclose The Existence Of Any Such Document."

The Lady Looked Steadily At Him For A Few Seconds,  Then In a Clear

Distinct,  And Deliberate Tone,  Said,  "For The Last Seven Years The Will

Of The Late Baronet Has Been In My Possession,  During Which,  Time You,

Sir Ralph,  Have Made Frequent Attempts To Obtain It From Me,  Sometimes

On One Pretence,  Then On Another. Were I To Agree To Your Request,  What

Security Have I That You,  Who Have Acted So Vile A Part Against Miss

Effingham,  Would Not Act As Treacherously Towards Me,  Were I Once In

Your Power? While I Possess That Document,  I Hold My Position Here,  And

Can Thus Keep You At Bay. And Think You That I Will Thus Surrender My

Advantage To Please The Idle Fancy Of A Man Who Would Not Hesitate To

Stoop To Perform Any Act However Dastardly,  So That He Could Effectually

Escape The Penalty Of A Crime He Was Ready To Profit By,  But Cowardly

Enough To Shrink From The Consequences It Entailed? You Say That Our

Interest In This Affair Is Mutual,--It Is Not So,  And You Know It. You

Gain Nineteen Thousand A Year,  I Only One. Again,  Should The Will By Any

Mischance Be Found In My Possession,  Who Would Believe My Statement

That You Were A Party Concerned In The Abstraction Of The Said Deed,  You

Would Deny All Knowledge Of The Transaction And My Unsupported Evidence

Could Not Commit You. Of Course You Would Lose The Estate; But What

Would My Condition Be Then. No! I Have Everything At Stake--You,

Comparatively Nothing. I Will Not Accede To So Absurd A Proposition."

There Was A Short Pause,  The Widow Resumed Her Embroidery With An Air Of

Apparent Indifference. The Baronet Sat Abstractedly Gazing Out Of The

Window,  Evidently Turning Over Something In His Mind. As She Had Stated

He Had Tried To Wheedle Her Out Of The Papers,  But She Had Hitherto,  By

Great Tact,  Adroitly Managed To Shift The Conversation To Some Other

Subject,  In a Quiet And Playful Manner. He Was Therefore Not Prepared

For This Vehement Outburst; She Had Not Only Refused To Comply With His

Demand,  But Taunted Him With Stinging Words For His Pusillanimous

Conduct. He Knew Her Great Ambition,  And That The Sole Object Of Her

Life Was To Become Mistress Of Vellenaux,  And To Gain This She Would

Risk Everything. It Was Her Weak Point,  The Only Vulnerable Part He

Could Attack With Any Hope Of Success. He Had For Months Pondered Over

This; It Had This Advantage,  It Is True,  He Thought A Marriage Would

Secure Him In The Possession Of Both The Will And Her Silence; But Then

He Hated Her With A Cordial Hate. He Had Been For Years In Her Power.

During Her Residence At Vellenaux She Had Every Want Supplied,  And Was

Safe In Her Position. With The Only Evidence Of The Fraud That Had Been

Practiced In Her Own Keeping; She Had Outwitted Him And Had In Reality

Obtained The Best Of The Bargain. The Knowledge Of This Cut Him To The

Quick And He Detested Her In consequence.

Yet His Only Chance Of Obtaining That Which He So Coveted Was By An

Offer Of Marriage,  Not That He Intended To Fulfil Any Such Promise,

Quite The Reverse,  It Would Be A Lie,  A Villainous Deception,  But Had He

Not Willingly Defrauded Miss Effingham Out Of Her Property? And What Was

One Lie,  More Or Less,  It Would Be But Diamond Cut Diamond,  And Turning

The Tables On Mrs. Fraudhurst. All These Thoughts Flashed Through His

Mind As He Sat Gazing Out Upon The Sunny Landscape Below Him,  If It Must

Be Done,  As Well Now As At Any Other Time,  Perhaps Better. He At Length

Arose,  And After Taking Two Or Three Turns Up And Down The Apartment In

Order To Nerve Himself For Action,  Stopped Beside The Chair Of The Fair

Widow.

"Eleanor," Said He,  Laying His Hand On Her Arm. She Looked Up Quickly,

For He Had Never Before So Addressed Her. "Eleanor,  You Are Unjust To Me

And To Yourself,  Ask Yourself Have I Ever Deceived Or Broken Faith With

You Since Our Compact After Sir Jasper'S Death,  And The Answer Must Be

In My Favor. You May Say That I Have Acted Coldly And Kept Aloof From

You: This I Grant Is True,  But It Has Been Forced Upon Me; I Felt That

The Eyes Of The World Were Upon Us,  Watching Our Actions. Your Constant

Residence Here Has Been Talked Of And Cavelled At By Some Of The

Neighboring Families,  Who Have Not Recovered From The Surprise They Felt

On Hearing That Sir Jasper Had Died Intestate And Left His Orphan Niece

Unprovided For. It Was To Prevent Exposure That I Have Thus Acted

Towards You,  And I Believe That I Have Effectually Succeeded,  And Now I

Acknowledge That The Charm Of Your Society Has Become Almost

Indispensable To Me,  And I Will No Longer Be Held Back By The World'S

Opinion. Listen To My Proposal,  Accept It Or Reject It As You Will,  I

Make It With All Sincerity. Place The Will Of The Late