text: Charles  Reade A Terrible Temptation (Fiscle Part 3) 
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 1 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 2 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 3 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 4 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 5 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 1 Pg 6 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 7 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 8 
   "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?" 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 9 
     
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 10 
   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: 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 11 
     
   "'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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 12 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 13 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 2 Pg 14 
     
   "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!" 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 15 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 16 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 17 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 18 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 19 
   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?" 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 20 
   "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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 21 
   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?" 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 22 
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 23 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 4 Pg 24 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 4 Pg 25 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 4 Pg 26 
   "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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 4 Pg 27 
     
   "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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 28 
   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!" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 29 
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 30 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 31 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 32 
   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." 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 33 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 34 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 35 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 36 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 5 Pg 37 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 6 Pg 38 
     
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 6 Pg 39 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 6 Pg 40 
   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." 
     
     
     
     
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 41 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 42 
   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, 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 43 
   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." 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 44 
   "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, 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 45 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 46 
   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?" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 47 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 48 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 49 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 50 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 51 
   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!" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 52 
   "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!" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 53 
   "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!" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 54 
   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. 
     
     
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 55 
     
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 56 
     
   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?" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 57 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 58 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 59 
   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." 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 60 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 61 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 62 
   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. 
     
     
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 63 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 64 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 65 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 66 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 67 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 68 
   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, 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 69 
   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?" 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 70 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 71 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 72 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 73 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 74 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 75 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 76 
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 77 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 78 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 79 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 80 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 81 
   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, 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 82 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 83 
   "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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 84 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 85 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 10 Pg 86 
    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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 11 Pg 87 
     
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 11 Pg 88 
   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: 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 11 Pg 89 
   "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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 11 Pg 90 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 91 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 92 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 93 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 94 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 95 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 96 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 97 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 98 
   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." 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 99 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 100 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 101 
     
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 102 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 103 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 104 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 105 
     
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 106 
   "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, 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 12 Pg 107 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 13 Pg 108 
     
   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: 
     
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 13 Pg 109 
     
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 13 Pg 110 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 13 Pg 111 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 13 Pg 112 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 13 Pg 113 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 114 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 115 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 116 
   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. 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 117 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 118 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 119 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 14 Pg 120 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 121 
   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."_ 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 122 
   "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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 123 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 124 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 125 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 126 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 127 
   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?" 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 128 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 129 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 15 Pg 130 
     
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 131 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 132 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 133 
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 134 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 135 
     
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 136 
   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. 
     
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 137 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 138 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 137 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 138 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 16 Pg 139 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 17 Pg 140 
     
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 17 Pg 141 
   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." 
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 17 Pg 142 
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 17 Pg 143 
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 17 Pg 144 
   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." 
     
     
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 18 Pg 145 
     
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 18 Pg 146 
   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." 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 18 Pg 147 
     
   "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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 19 Pg 148 
   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 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 19 Pg 149 
   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. 
   
   
   
   Part 3 Chapter 19 Pg 150 
   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!" 
   
   
   Publication Date: June 17th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-azbdcf75988b535