Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (buy e reader .TXT) 📕

Her To See The Signs Of Emotion. And This Brings Us To Where We Were.

Lord Hartledon Went On With His Toilette,  And Presently Someone Knocked

At The Door.

Two Letters: They Had Come By The Afternoon Post,  Very Much Delayed On

Account Of The Snow. He Came Back To The Gaslight,  Opening One. A Full

Letter,  Written Closely; But He Had Barely Glanced At It When He Hastily

Folded It Again,  And Crammed It Into His Pocket. If Ever A Movement

Expressed Something To Be Concealed,  That Did. And Lady Hartledon Was

Gazing At Him With Her Questioning Eyes.

"Wasn't That Letter From Thomas Carr?"

"Yes."

"Is He Coming Up? Or Is Kirton To Be Proxy?"

"He Is--Coming,  I Think," Said Val,  Evidently Knowing Nothing One Way Or

The Other. "He'll Be Here,  I Daresay,  To-Morrow Morning."

Opening The Other Letter As He Spoke--A Foreign-Looking Letter This

One--He Put It Up In The Same Hasty Manner,  With Barely A Glance; And

Then Went On Slowly With His Dressing.

"Why Don't You Read Your Letters,  Percival?"

"I Haven't Time. Dinner Will Be Waiting."

She Knew That He Had Plenty Of Time,  And That Dinner Would Not Be

Waiting; She Knew Quite Certainly That There Was Something In Both

Letters She Must Not See. Rising From Her Seat In Silence,  She Went Out

Of The Room With Her Baby; Resentment And An Unhealthy Curiosity Doing

Battle In Her Heart.

Lord Hartledon Slipped The Bolt Of The Door And Read The Letters At Once;

The Foreign One First,  Over Which He Seemed To Take An Instant's Counsel

With Himself. Before Going Down He Locked Them Up In A Small Ebony

Cabinet Which Stood Against The Wall. The Room Was His Own Exclusively;

His Wife Had Nothing To Do With It.

Had They Been Alone He Might Have Observed Her Coolness To Him; But,  With

Guests To Entertain,  He Neither Saw Nor Suspected It. She Sat Opposite

Him At Dinner Richly Dressed,  Her Jewels And Smiles Alike Dazzling: But

The Smiles Were Not Turned On Him.

"Is That Chosen Sponsor Of Yours Coming Up For The Christening; Lawyer

Carr?" Tartly Inquired The Dowager From Her Seat,  Bringing Her Face And

Her Turban,  All Scarlet Together,  To Bear On Hartledon.

"He Comes Up By This Evening's Train; Will Be In London Late To-Night,  If

The Snow Allows Him,  And Stay With Us Until Sunday Night," Replied Val.

"Oh! _That's_ No Doubt The Reason Why You Settled The Christening For

Saturday: That Your Friend Might Have The Benefit Of Sunday?"

"Just So,  Madam."

And Lady Hartledon Knew,  By This,  That Her Husband Must Have Read The

Letters. "I Wonder What He Has Done With Them?" Came The Mental Thought,

Shadowing Forth A Dim Wish That She Could Read Them Too.

In The Drawing-Room,  After Dinner,  Someone Proposed A Carpet Quadrille,

But Lord Hartledon Seemed Averse To It. In His Wife's Present Mood,  His

Opposition Was,  Of Course,  The Signal For Her Approval,  And She Began

Pushing The Chairs Aside With Her Own Hands. He Approached Her Quietly.

"Maude,  Do Not Let Them Dance To-Night."

"Why Not?"

"I Have A Reason. My Dear,  Won't You Oblige Me In This?"

"Tell Me The Reason,  And Perhaps I Will; Not Otherwise."

"I Will Tell It You Another Time. Trust Me,  I Have A Good One. What Is

It,  Hedges?"

The Butler Had Come Up To His Master In The Unobtrusive Manner Of A

Well-Trained Servant,  And Was Waiting An Opportunity To Speak. He Said A

Word In Lord Hartledon's Ear,  And Lady Hartledon Saw A Shiver Of Surprise

Run Through Her Husband. He Looked Here,  Looked There,  As One Perplexed

With Fear,  And Finally Went Out Of The Room With A Calm Face,  But One

That Was Turning Livid.

Lady Hartledon Followed In An Impulse Of Curiosity. She Looked After Him

Over The Balustrades,  And Saw Him Turn Into The Library Below. Hedges Was

Standing Near The Drawing-Room Door.

"Does Any One Want Lord Hartledon?"

"Yes,  My Lady."

"Who Is It?"

"I Don't Know,  My Lady. Some Gentleman."

She Ran Lightly Down The Stairs,  Pausing At The Foot,  As If Ashamed Of

Her Persistent Curiosity. The Well-Lighted Hall Was Before Her; The

Dining-Room On One Side; The Library And A Small Room Communicating On

The Other. Throwing Back Her Head,  As In Defiance,  She Boldly Crossed The

Hall And Opened The Library Door.

Now What Lady Hartledon Had Really Thought Was That The Visitor Was Mr.

Carr; Her Husband Was Going To Steal A Quiet Half-Hour With Him; And

Hedges Was In The Plot. She Had Not Lived With Hartledon The Best Part

Of A Year Without Learning That Hedges Was Devoted Heart And Soul To His

Master.

She Opened The Library-Door. Her Husband's Back Was Towards Her; And

Facing Him,  His Arms Raised As If In Anger Or Remonstrance,  Was The Same

Stranger Who Had Caused Some Commotion In The Other House. She Knew Him

In A Moment: There He Was,  With His Staid Face,  His Black Clothes,  And

His White Neckcloth,  Looking So Like A Clergyman. Lord Hartledon Turned

His Head.

"I Am Engaged,  Maude; You Can't Come In," He Peremptorily Said; And

Closed The Door Upon Her.

She Went Slowly Up The Stairs Again,  Not Choosing To Meet The Butler's

Eyes,  Past The Drawing-Rooms,  And Up To Her Own. The Sight Of The

Stranger,  Coupled With Her Husband's Signs Of Emotion,  Had Renewed All

Her Old Suspicions,  She Knew Not,  She Never Had Known,  Of What. Jumping

To The Conclusion That Those Letters Must Be In Some Way Connected With

The Mystery,  Perhaps An Advent Of The Visit,  It Set Her Thinking,  And

Rebellion Arose In Her Heart.

"I Wonder If He Put Them In The Ebony Cabinet?" She Exclaimed. "I Have A

Key That Will Fit That."

Yes,  She Had A Key To Fit It. A Few Weeks Before,  Lord Hartledon Mislaid

His Keys; He Wanted Something Out Of This Cabinet,  In Which He Did Not,

As A Rule,  Keep Anything Of Consequence,  And Tried Hers. One Was Found To

Unlock It,  And He Jokingly Told Her She Had A Key To His Treasures. But

Himself Strictly Honourable,  He Could Not Suspect Dishonour In Another;

And Lord Hartledon Supposed It Simply Impossible That She Should Attempt

To Open It Of Her Own Accord.

They Were Of Different Natures; And They Had Been Reared In Different

Schools. Poor Maude Kirton Had Learnt To Be Anything But Scrupulous,

And Really Thought It A Very Slight Thing She Was About To Do,  Almost

Justifiable Under The Circumstances. Almost,  If Not Quite. Nevertheless

She Would Not Have Liked To Be Caught At It.

She Took Her Bunch Of Keys And Went Into Her Husband's Dressing-Room,

Which Opened From Their Bedroom: But She Went On Tip-Toe,  As One Who

Knows She Is Doing Wrong. It Took Some Little Time To Try The Keys,  For

There Were Several On The Ring,  And She Did Not Know The Right One: But

The Lid Flew Open At Last,  And Disclosed The Two Letters Lying There.

She Snatched At One,  Either That Came First,  And Opened It. It Happened

To Be The One From Mr. Carr,  And She Began To Read It,  Her Heart Beating.

  "Dear Hartledon,

  "I Think I Have At Last Found Some Trace Of Gorton. There's A Man Of

  That Name In The Criminal Calendar Here,  Down For Trial To-Morrow; I

  Shall See Then Whether It Is The Same,  But The Description Tallies.

  Should It Be Our Gorton,  I Think The Better Plan Will Be To Leave Him

  Entirely Alone: A Man Undergoing A Criminal Sentence--And This Man Is

  Sure Of A Long Period Of It--Has Neither The Means Nor The Motive To Be

  Dangerous. He Cannot Molest You Whilst He Is Working On Portland

  Island; And,  So Far,  You May Live A Little Eased From Fear. I Wish--"

Mr. Carr's Was A Close Handwriting,  And This Concluded The First Page.

She Was Turning It Over,  When Lord Hartledon's Voice On The Stairs Caught

Her Ear. He Seemed To Be Coming Up.

Ay,  And He Would Have Caught Her At Her Work But For The Accidental

Circumstance Of The Old Dowager's Happening To Look Out Of The

Drawing-Room And Detaining Him,  As He Was Hastening Onwards Up The

Stairs. She Did Her Daughter Good Service That Moment,  If She Had Never

Done It Before. Maude Had Time To Fold The Letter,  Put It Back,  Lock The

Cabinet,  And Escape. Had She Been A Nervous Woman,  Given To Being

Flurried And To Losing Her Presence Of Mind,  She Might Not Have

Succeeded; But She Was Cool And Quick In Emergency,  Her Brain And Fingers

Steady.

Nevertheless Her Heart Beat A Little As She Stood Within The Other Room,

The Door Not Latched Behind Her. She Did Not Stir,  Lest He Should Hear

Her; And She Hoped To Remain Unseen Until He Went Down Again. A Ready

Excuse Was On Her Lips,  If He Happened To Look In,  Which Was Not

Probable: That She Fancied She Heard Baby Cry,  And Was Listening.

Lord Hartledon Was Walking About His Dressing-Room,  Pacing It Restlessly,

And She Very Distinctly Heard Suppressed Groans Of Mortal Anguish

Breaking From His Lips. How He Had Got Rid Of His Visitor,  And What

The Visitor Came For,  She Knew Not. He Seemed To Halt Before The

Washhand-Stand,  Pour Out Some Water,  And Dash His Face Into It.

"God Help Me! God Help Maude!" He Ejaculated,  As He Went Down Again To

The Drawing-Room.

And Lady Hartledon Went Down Also,  For The Interruption Had Frightened

Her,  And She Did Not Attempt To Open The Cabinet Again. She Never Knew

More Of The Contents Of Mr. Carr's Letter; And Only The Substance Of The

Other,  As Communicated To Her By Her Husband.

Not Until The Sunday Morning Did Lady Hartledon Speak To Her Husband Of

The Stranger's Visit. There Seemed To Have Been No Previous Opportunity.

Mr. Carr Had Arrived Late On The Friday Night; Indeed It Was Saturday

Morning,  For The Trains Were All Detained; And He And Hartledon Sat Up

Together To An Unconscionable Hour. For This Short Visit He Was Lord

Hartledon's Guest. Saturday Seemed To Have Been Given To Preparation,

To Gaiety,  And To Nothing Else. Perhaps Also Lady Hartledon Did Not Wish

To Mar That Day By An Unpleasant Word. The Little Child Was Christened;

The Names Given Him Being Edward Kirton: The Countess-Dowager,  Who Was In

A Chronic State Of Dissatisfaction With Everything And Every One,  Angrily

Exclaimed At The Last Moment,  That She Thought At Least Her Family Name

Might Have Been Given To The Child; And Lord Hartledon Interposed,  And

Said,  Give It. Lord And Lady Hartledon,  And Mr. Carr,  Were The Sponsors:

And It Would Afford Food For Weeks Of Grumbling To The Old Dowager.

Hilarity Reigned,  And Toasts Were Given To The New Heir Of Hartledon;

And The Only One Who Seemed Not To Enter Into The Spirit Of The Thing,

But On The Contrary To Be Subdued,  Absent,  Nervous,  Was The Heir's

Father.

And So It Went On To The Sunday Morning. A Cold,  Bleak,  Bitter Morning,

The Wind Howling,  The Snow Flying In Drifts. Mr. Carr Went To Church,

And He Was The Only One Of The Party In The House Who Did Go. The

Countess-Dowager The Previous Night Had Proclaimed The Fact That _She_

Meant To Go--As A Sort Of Reproach To Any Who Meant To Keep Away.

However,  When The Church-Bells Began,  She Was Turning Round In Her

Warm Bed For Another Nap.

Maude Did Not Go Down Early; Had Not Yet Taken To Doing So. She

Breakfasted In Her Room,  Remained Toying With Her Baby For Some Time,

And Then Went Into Her Own Sitting-Room; A Small Cosy Apartment On The

Drawing-Room Floor,  Into Which Visitors Did Not Intrude. It Looked On To

Hyde Park,  And A Very White And Dreary Park It Was On That Particular

Day.

Drawing A Chair To The Window,  She Sat Looking Out. That Is,  Her Eyes

Were Given To The Outer World,  But She Was So Deep In Thought As To See

Nothing Of It. For Two Nights And A Day,  Burning With