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

Was So Desirable A Refuge. As A Preliminary Step Against This,  She Began

To Endeavour To Make It More Firm And Secure. Altogether She Was

Rendering Hartledon Unbearable; And Val Would Often Escape From It,

His Boy In His Hand,  And Take Refuge With Mrs. Ashton.

That Lord Hartledon's Love For His Children Was Intense There Could Be No

Question About; But It Was Nevertheless Of A Peculiarly Reticent Nature.

He Had Rarely,  If Ever,  Been Seen To Caress Them. The Boy Told Tales Of

How Papa Would Kiss Him,  Even Weep Over Him,  In Solitude; But He Would

Not Give Him So Much As An Endearing Name In The Presence Of Others. Poor

Maude Had Called Him All The Pet Names In A Fond Mother's Vocabulary;

Lord Hartledon Always Called Him Edward,  And Nothing More.

A Few Evenings After The Funeral Had Taken Place,  Mirrable,  Who Had Been

Into Calne,  Was Hurrying Back In The Twilight. As She Passed Jabez Gum's

Gate,  The Clerk's Wife Was Standing At It,  Talking To Mrs. Jones. The Two

Were Laughing: Mrs. Gum Seemed In A Less Depressed State Than Usual,  And

The Other Less Snappish.

"Is It You!" Exclaimed Mrs. Jones,  As Mirrable Stopped. "I Was Just

Saying I'd Not Set Eyes On You In Your New Mourning."

"And Laughing Over It," Returned Mirrable.

"No!" Was Mrs. Jones's Retort. "I'd Been Telling Of A Trick I Served

Jones,  And Nance Was Laughing At That. Silk And Crepe! It's Fine To Be

You,  Mrs. Mirrable!"

"How's Jabez,  Nancy?" Asked Mirrable,  Passing Over Mrs. Jones's

Criticism.

"He's Gone To Garchester," Replied Mrs. Gum,  Who Was Given To Indirect

Answers. "I Thought I Was Never Going To See You Again,  Mary."

"You Could Not Expect To See Me Whilst The House Was In Its Recent

State," Answered Mirrable. "We Have Been In A Bustle,  As You May

Suppose."

"You've Not Had Many Staying There."

"Only Mr. Carr; And He Left To-Day. We've Got The Old Countess-Dowager

Still."

"And Likely To Have Her,  If All's True That's Said," Put In Mrs. Jones.

Mirrable Tacitly Admitted The Probability. Her Private Opinion Was That

Nothing Short Of A Miracle Could Ever Remove The Dowager Kirton From The

House Again. Had Any One Told Mirrable,  As She Stood There,  That Her

Ladyship Would Be Leaving Of Her Own Accord That Night,  She Had Simply

Said It Was Impossible.

"Mary," Cried The Weak Voice Of Poor Timid Mrs. Gum,  "How Was It None Of

The Brothers Came To The Funeral? Jabez Was Wondering. She Had A Lot,

I've Heard."

"It Was Not Convenient To Them,  I Suppose," Replied Mirrable. "The One

In The Isle Of Wight Had Gone Cruising In Somebody's Yacht,  Or He'd Have

Come With The Dowager; And Lord Kirton Telegraphed From Ireland That He

Was Prevented Coming. I Know Nothing About The Rest."

"It Was An Awful Death!" Shivered Mrs. Gum. "And Without Cause Too; For

The Child Was Not Hurt After All. Isn't My Lord Dreadfully Cut Up,  Mary?"

"I Think So; He's Very Quiet And Subdued. But He Has Seemed Full Of

Sorrow For A Long While,  As If He Had Some Dreadful Care Upon Him. I

Don't Think He And His Wife Were Very Happy Together," Added Mirrable.

"My Lord's Likely To Make Hartledon His Chief Residence Now,  I Fancy,

For--My Gracious! What's That?"

A Crash As If A Whole Battery Of Crockery Had Come Down Inside The

House. A Moment Of Staring Consternation Ensued,  And Nervous Mrs. Gum

Looked Ready To Faint. The Two Women Disappeared Indoors,  And Mirrable

Turned Homewards At A Brisk Pace. But She Was Not To Go On Without An

Interruption. Pike's Head Suddenly Appeared Above The Hurdles,  And He

Began Inquiring After Her Health. "Toothache Gone?" Asked He.

"Yes," She Said,  Answering Straightforwardly In Her Surprise. "How Did

You Know I Had Toothache?" It Was Not The First Time By Several He Had

Thus Accosted Her; And To Give Her Her Due,  She Was Always Civil To Him.

Perhaps She Feared To Be Otherwise.

"I Heard Of It. And So My Lord Hartledon's Like A Man With Some Dreadful

Care Upon Him!" He Went On. "What Is The Care?"

"You Have Been Eavesdropping!" She Angrily Exclaimed.

"Not A Bit Of It. I Was Seated Under The Hedge With My Pipe,  And You

Three Women Began Talking. I Didn't Tell You To. Well,  What's His

Lordship's Care?"

"Just Mind Your Own Business,  And His Lordship Will Mind His," She

Retorted. "You'll Get Interfered With In A Way You Won't Like,  Pike,  One

Of These Days,  Unless You Mend Your Manners."

"A Great Care On Him," Nodded Pike To Himself,  Looking After Her,  As She

Walked Off In Her Anger. "A Great Care! _I_ Know. One Of These Fine Days,

My Lord,  I May Be Asking You Questions About It On My Own Score. I Might

Long Before This,  But For--"

The Sentence Broke Off Abruptly,  And Ended With A Growl At Things In

General. Mr. Pike Was Evidently Not In A Genial Mood.

Mirrable Reached Home To Find The Countess-Dowager In A State More Easily

Imagined Than Described. Some Sprite,  Favourable To The Peace Of

Hartledon,  Had Been Writing Confidentially From Ireland Regarding Kirton

And His Doings. That Her Eldest Son Was About To Steal A March On Her And

Marry Again Seemed Almost Indisputably Clear; And The Miserable Dowager,

Dancing Her War-Dance And Uttering Reproaches,  Was Repacking Her Boxes In

Haste. Those Boxes,  Which She Had Fondly Hoped Would Never Again Leave

Hartledon,  Unless It Might Be For Sojourns In Park Lane! She Was Going

Back To Ireland To Mount Guard,  And Prevent Any Such Escapade. Only In

September Had She Quitted Him--And Then Had Been As Nearly Ejected As A

Son Could Eject His Mother With Any Decency--And Had Taken The Isle Of

Wight On Her Way To Hartledon. The Son Who Lived In The Isle Of Wight

Had Espoused A Widow Twice His Own Age,  With Eleven Hundred A Year,  And A

House And Carriage; So That He Had A Home: Which The Countess-Dowager

Sometimes Remembered.

Lord Hartledon Was Liberal. He Gave Her A Handsome Sum For Her Journey,

And A Cheque Besides; Most Devoutly Praying That She Might Keep Guard

Over Kirton For Ever. He Escorted Her To The Station Himself In A Closed

Carriage,  An Omnibus Having Gone Before Them With A Mountain Of Boxes,

At Which All Calne Came Out To Stare.

And The Same Week,  Confiding His Children To The Joint Care Of Mirrable

And Their Nurse--An Efficient,  Kind,  And Judicious Woman--Lord Hartledon

Departed From Home And England For A Sojourn On The Continent,  Long Or

Short,  As Inclination Might Lead Him,  Feeling As A Bird Released From

Its Cage.

Some Eighteen Months After The Event Recorded In The Last Chapter,  A

Travelling Carriage Dashed Up To A House In Park Lane One Wet Evening

In Spring. It Contained Lord Hartledon And His Second Wife. They Were

Expected,  And The Servants Were Assembled In The Hall.

Lord Hartledon Led Her Into Their Midst,  Proudly,  Affectionately; As He

Had Never In His Life Led Any Other. Ah,  You Need Not Ask Who She Was; He

Had Contrived To Win Her,  To Win Over Dr. Ashton; And His Heart Had At

Length Found Rest. Her Fair Countenance,  Her Thoughtful Eyes And Sweet

Smile Were Turned On The Servants,  Thanking Them For Their Greeting.

"All Well,  Hedges?" Asked Lord Hartledon.

"Quite Well,  My Lord. But We Are Not Alone."

"No!" Said Val,  Stopping In His Progress. "Who's Here?"

"The Countess-Dowager Of Kirton,  My Lord," Replied Hedges,  Glancing At

Lady Hartledon In Momentary Hesitation.

"Oh,  Indeed!" Said Val,  As If Not Enjoying The Information. "Just See,

Hedges,  That The Things Inside The Carriage Are All Taken Out. Don't Come

Up,  Mrs. Ball; I Will Take Lady Hartledon To Her Rooms."

It Was The Light-Hearted Val Of The Old,  Old Days; His Face Free From

Care,  His Voice Gay. He Did Not Turn Into Any Of The Reception-Rooms,  But

Led His Wife At Once To Her Chamber. It Was Nearly Dinner-Time,  And He

Knew She Was Tired.

"Welcome Home,  My Darling!" He Whispered Tenderly Ere Releasing Her. "A

Thousand Welcomes To You,  My Dear,  Dear Wife!"

Tears Rose To His Eyes With The Fervour Of The Wish. Heaven Alone Knew

What The Past Had Been; The Contrast Between That Time And This.

"I Will Dress At Once,  Percival," She Said,  After A Few Moments' Pause.

"I Must See Your Children Before Dinner. Heaven Helping Me,  I Shall Love

Them And Always Act By Them As If They Were My Own."

"I Am So Sorry She Is Here,  Anne--That Terrible Old Woman. You Heard

Hedges Say Lady Kirton Had Arrived. Her Visit Is Ill-Timed."

"I Shall Be Glad To Welcome Her,  Val."

"It Is More Than I Shall Be," Replied Val,  As His Wife's Maid Came Into

The Room,  And He Quitted It. "I'll Bring The Children To You,  Anne."

They Had Been Married Nearly Five Weeks. Anne Had Not Seen The Children

For Several Months. The Little Child,  Edward,  Had Shown Symptoms Of

Delicacy,  And For Nearly A Year The Children Had Sojourned At The

Seaside,  Having Been Brought To The Town-House Just Before Their Father's

Marriage.

The Nursery Was Empty,  And Lord Hartledon Went Down. In The Passage

Outside The Drawing-Room Was Hedges,  Evidently Waiting For His Master,

And With A Budget To Unfold.

"When Did She Come,  Hedges?"

"My Lord,  It Was Only A Few Days After Your Marriage," Replied Hedges.

"She Arrived In The Most Outrageous Tantrum--If I Shall Not Offend Your

Lordship By Saying So--And Has Been Here Ever Since,  Completely Upsetting

Everything."

"What Was Her Tantrum About?"

"On Account Of Your Having Married Again,  My Lord. She Stood In The Hall

For Five Minutes When She Got Here,  Saying The Most Audacious Things

Against Your Lordship And Miss Ashton--I Mean My Lady," Corrected Hedges.

"The Old Hag!" Muttered Lord Hartledon.

"I Think She's Insane At Times,  My Lord; I Really Do. The Fits Of Passion

She Flies Into Are Quite Bad Enough For Insanity. The Housekeeper Told Me

This Morning She Feared She Would Be Capable Of Striking My Lady,  When

She First Saw Her. I'm Afraid,  Too,  She Has Been Schooling The Children."

Lord Hartledon Strode Into The Drawing-Room. There,  As Large As

Life--And A Great Deal Larger Than Most Lives--Was The Dowager-Countess.

Fortunately She Had Not Heard The Arrival: In Fact,  She Had Dropped Into

A Doze Whilst Waiting For It; And She Started Up When Val Entered.

"How Are You,  Ma'am?" Asked He. "You Have Taken Me By Surprise."

"Not Half As Much As Your Wicked Letter Took Me," Screamed The Old

Dowager. "Oh,  You Vile Man! To Marry Again In This Haste! You--You--I

Can't Find Words That I Should Not Be Ashamed Of; But Hamlet's Mother,  In

The Play,  Was Nothing To It."

"It Is Some Time Since I Read The Play," Returned Hartledon,  Controlling

His Temper Under An Assumption Of Indifference. "If My Memory Serves Me,

The 'Funeral Baked Meats Did Coldly Furnish Forth The Marriage Table.'

_My_ Late Wife Has Been Dead Eighteen Months,  Lady Kirton."

"Eighteen Months! For Such A Wife As Maude Was To You!" Raved The

Dowager. "You Ought To Have Mourned Her Eighteen Years. Anybody Else

Would. I Wish I Had Never Let You Have Her."

Lord Hartledon Wished It Likewise,  With All His Heart And Soul; Had

Wished It In His Wife's Lifetime.

"Lady Kirton,  Listen To Me! Let Us Understand Each Other. Your Visit Here

Is Ill-Timed; You Ought To Feel It So; Nevertheless,  If You Stay It Out,

You Must Observe Good Manners. I Shall Be Compelled To Request You To

Terminate It If You Fail One Iota In The Respect Due To This House's

Mistress,  My Beloved And Honoured Wife."

"Your _Beloved_ Wife! Do You Dare To Say It To Me?"

"Ay; Beloved,  Honoured And Respected As No Woman Has Ever Been By Me Yet,

Or Ever Will Be Again," He Replied,  Speaking Too Plainly In His Warmth.

"What A False-Hearted Monster!" Cried The Dowager,  Shrilly,

Apostrophizing The Walls And The Mirrors. "What Then Was Maude?"

"Maude Is Gone,  And I Counsel You