Stories with a Vengeance — page 108: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

104 ceeded in the same fashion at some dis- tance, the inequalities of the road being such, in fact, that one couple of pedestrians sometimes never set eyes on the other till near their journey’s end. Lord Marston had resided so much abroad that Lucy really enjoyed his com- pany, for he spoke her native language remarkably well, and was a first-rate story- _ teller. The other pair were often less happily engaged during their walks. is cunning companion even wormed from Sir Clyffe the details of the secret distress which was preying on his mind, and of course she already knew most of the facts of Gertrude’s sad story. Having once aired his trouble, it became an unspeakable relief to talk it over, so he began to seek the widow for that purpose, walking ahead with her or lingering behind more frequently than his wife thought ne- cessary. Even Lord Marston observed it, and although gratified by pretty, innocent Lady Dashwood’s evident enjoyment of his own racy conversation, felt disgusted with Sir Clyffe and Lady Clare, the latter of whom he considered, to quote his mental comment, “as clever and unscrupulous as the very devil himself.” ‘“‘ Dashwood is a greater ass than I took him for,” he soliliquized, “to tire already of such an angel as his wife, and go flirting with an old woman of forty, whom he might have had for the askipg, and who isn’t much guod, my sister though she be. Dear me! who would have predicted such a sad fate for this little darling? I wish I could help her in any way, poor child! If it would be of the slightest use, I’d even make a martyr of myself by taking Clare away for a few weeks. ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ But, good gracious! what does he see in her at this time of day, when for the last two years she has been moving heaven and earth to “ hook” him, too ?” * * * * * “ Certainly not,” said Lady Clare, as she and Sir Clyife rested a few minutes at the most elevated spot of the rock-path, with the crimson glow of the early winter sun- set falling over them, and forming a glit- tering bridge across the calm sea at their feet—‘ certainly not, if you ask my advice. She is a mere child, and might take all sorts of unreasonable notions into her head if you told her poor mad Gertrude is living under the same roof—especially as, from what you say, she has a nervous terror of insanity. I should let things be as they are, were I you.” Google OB RUNS YOUR MIND ON ANOTHER LOVE? “ But it looks so horribly deceitiul; it makes me absolutely hate myself—and she is so true and single-hearted.” ‘Qh, that’s of course; but are you sure that at her age she can have the solid affection for a man of thirty-nine which would make her cleave to him if informed there was a possibility of his becoming mad some time or other? Remember, I do not take this view of the case; but itis what you would have to tell Lady Dash- wood if you mentioned Gertrude at all. As she has such a childish dread of lunatics, don’t you think, for her sake, as well as your own, it would be wiser to say nothing P” _ “But couldn’t you give her some sort of a slight hint about Gertrude which might pave the way for a full disclosure ?” “Well, I don’t know. If I can, I shall.” “Thanks, dear old friend; you will make me your debtor for life.” CHAPTER VIII. ‘‘Bur you don’t mean to say you are 80 simple as to imagine your husband has told you ail the outs and ins of his life? Bless you, child, Englishmen don’t carry their hearts on their sleeves like your countrymen. They are naturally reticent, and—and—why, the spiciest of Sir Cliffe’s experiences were over before you were born. Ah! those old days—the dear old days, when the heart was at its best, and lfe ecstatic, as it never is after five-and-twenty. Heigho! I’m sure it would be a blessing if one could forget sometimes.” It was Lady Clare who spoke. She was taking afternoon-tea with Lucy, and the conversation, starting with certain current reports about a neighbouring squire, had drifted to the discussion of husbands in general and Sir Clyffe in par- ticular. | “IT am quite certain,” rephed Lady Dash- wood, “that Clyffe never in all his life did anything to he ashamed of, and equally sure he never would keep a secret from “Oh, I don’t mean to infer he is worse than many others—my own brother, for instance; but, then, he never means to marry. Sir Clyffe, however, was so sud- denly smitten with your pretty little face that—well, well, all 1 can say is that I have always stood up for him through thick and thin; and, by the bye, since we are on the topic, let me assure you, dear, that what- ever people choose to report, it is not true that T refused your husband twice. Now, like a good little gizl, just take my advice, > a JOO S CO)