George Berkeley - "Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous,"

Ralph Victor - "The Boy Scouts Patrol"

Rafael Sabatini - "The Trampling of the Lilies"

Leo Tolstoy/Lyof N. Tolstoi - "On the Significance of Science and Art"

A Terrible Temptation

C >> Charles Reade >> A Terrible Temptation




"To whom?"

"To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels."

"I adore him. Introduce me at once. But Sir Charles must not see me,
nor know I am here. Say Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett's, begs to
be introduced."

Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe; but whispered out of his own
head, "A character for your next novel--a saint with the devil's own
temper."

This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her directly.

As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, these two knew
each other intimately in about twelve minutes; and Rolfe told her all
the facts I have related, and Marsh went into several passions, and
corrected herself, and said she had been a great sinner, but was
plucked from the burning, and therefore thankful to anybody who would
give her a little bit of good to do.

Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged her to see the
Commissioners in Lunacy, and use all her eloquence to get one of them
down. "They don't act upon my letters," said he; "but it will be
another thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts it to them in person,
with all that power of face and voice I see in you. You are all fire;
and you can talk Saxon."

"Oh, I'll talk to them," said Mrs. Marsh, "and God will give me words;
He always does when I am on His side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heart
bleeds for her. I will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night, if you
like. To-night? I'll go this instant!"

"What!" said Rolfe: "is there a lady in the world who will go a journey
without packing seven trunks--and merely to do a good action?"

"You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost time."

"At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose none. So I'll arm
you at once with certain documents, and you must not leave the
commissioners till they promise to send one of their number down
without delay to examine him, and discharge him if he is as we
represent."

Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe to Dr. Suaby's study.

They armed her with letters and written facts, and she rode off at a
fiery pace; but not before she and Rolfe had sworn eternal friendship.

The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She was chilled, but not
daunted. She produced Suaby's letter and Rolfe's, and when they were
read she played the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, she
convinced, she persuaded, she thundered. Fire seemed to come out of the
woman.

Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, caught fire, and
declared he would go down next day and look into the matter on the
spot; and he kept his word. He came down; he saw Sir Charles and Suaby,
and penetrated the case.

Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good heart, but rather
an arrogant manner. He was also slightly affected with official
pomposity and reticence; so, unfortunately, he went away without
declaring his good intentions, and discouraged them all with the fear
of innumerable delays in the matter.

Now if Justice is slow, Injustice is swift. The very next day a
thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles and his friends.

Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers from an asylum
kept by Burdoch, a layman, the very opposite of the benevolent Suaby.
His was a place where the old system of restraint prevailed, secretly
but largely: strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleas
and bugs destroyed the patients' rest; and to counteract the insects
morphia was administered freely. Given to the bugs and fleas, it would
have been an effectual antidote; but they gave it to the patients, and
so the insects won.

These three keepers came with an order correctly drawn, and signed by
Richard Bassett, to deliver Sir Charles to the agents showing the
order.

Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at the sight of the
order, and took it to Rolfe.

"Resist!" said that worthy.

"I have no right."

"On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while I--Has Bassett
paid you for Sir Charles's board?"

"No."

"Decline to give him up till that is done, and be some time making out
the bill. Come what may, pray keep Sir Charles here till I send you a
note that I am ready."

He then hastened to Sir Charles and unfolded his plans, to him.

Sir Charles assented eagerly. He was quite willing to run risks with
the hope of immediate liberation, which Rolfe held out. His own part
was to delay and put off till he got a line from Rolfe.

Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole and the doctor's dog-cart, and
dashed into the town, distant two miles.

First he went to the little theater, and found them just concluding a
rehearsal. Being a playwright, he was known to nearly all the people,
more or less, and got five supers and one carpenter to join him--for a
consideration.

He then made other arrangements in the town, the nature of which will
appear in due course.

Meantime Suaby had presented his bill. One of the keepers got into the
fly and took it back to the town. There, as Rolfe had anticipated,
lurked Richard Bassett. He cursed the delay, gave the man the money,
and urged expedition. The money was brought and paid, and Suaby
informed Sir Charles.

But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry. He took a long time to pack;
and he was not ready till Vandeleur brought a note to him from Rolfe.

Then Sir Charles came down.

Suaby made Burdoch's keeper sign a paper to the effect that he had the
baronet in charge, and relieved Suaby of all further responsibility.

Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. Suaby, and made him
promise to visit him at Huntercombe Hall.

Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, and the fly
drove off.

Sir Charles at that moment needed all his fortitude. The least mistake
or miscalculation on the part of his friends, and what might not be the
result to him?

As the fly went slowly through the gate he saw on his right hand a
light carriage and pair moving up; but was it coming after him, or only
bringing visitors to the asylum?

The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. It rolled and
rolled. Sir Charles could stand it no longer. He tried to look out of
the window to see if the carriage was following.

One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. "Come, none of that, sir?"

"You insolent scoundrel!" said Sir Charles.

"Ay, ay," said the man; "we'll see about that when we get you home."

Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive blackguard.

He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over him.

Just then they passed a little clump of fir-trees.

In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number of men in crape
masks, stopped the horses, surrounded the carriage, and opened it with
brandishing of bludgeons and life-preservers, and pointing of guns.


CHAPTER XXX.

A BIG man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of ferocious oaths at
the keepers, and threatened to send them to hell that moment if they
did not instantly deliver up that gentleman.

The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for mercy.

"Hand him out here, you scoundrels!"

"Yes! yes! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is the use?"

"Hand down his luggage."

It was done all in a flutter.

"Now get in again; turn your horses' heads the other way, and don't
come back for an hour. You with your guns take stations in those trees,
and shoot them dead if they are back before their time."

These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, and Burdoch's party
were glad to get off, and they drove away quickly in the direction
indicated.

However, as soon as they got over their first surprise they began to
smell a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it was scarcely twenty minutes
when they came back.

But meantime the supers were paid liberally among the fir-trees by
Vandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung their dummy guns into a
cornfield, dispersed in different directions, and left no trace.

But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment he was recaptured
he and his luggage were whisked off in the other carriage, and, with
Rolfe and his secretary, dashed round the town, avoiding the main
street, to a railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit.
Not that they dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and a firm
determination to fight if necessary, and also three tongues to tell the
truth, instead of one.

At one in the morning they were in London. They slept at Mr. Rolfe's
house; and before breakfast Mr. Rolfe's secretary was sent to secure a
couple of prize-fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till further
notice. They were furnished with a written paper explaining the case
briefly, and were instructed to hit first and talk afterward should a
recapture be attempted. Should a crowd collect, they were to produce
the letter. These measures were to provide against his recapture under
the statute, which allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken upon the old
certificates for fourteen days after his escape from confinement, but
for no longer.

Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these.

Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his wife and
child. The faithful pugilists followed at his heels in another cab.

Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Rolfe knew Lady Bassett's address: it was
the medical man who had written: but that did not much matter; Sir
Charles was sure to learn his wife's address from Mr. Boddington. He
called on that gentleman at 17 Upper Gloucester Place. Mr. Boddington
had just taken his wife down to Margate for her health; had only been
gone half an hour.

This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently Sir Charles must
wait that gentleman's return. He wrote a line, begging Mr. Boddington
to send him Lady Bassett's address in a cab immediately on his return.

He told Mr. Rolfe this; and then for the first time let out that his
wife's not writing to him at the asylum had surprised and alarmed him;
he was on thorns.

Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, and at breakfast
time Sir Charles had a note to say Lady Bassett was at 119 Gloucester
Place, Portman Square.

Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and then dashed off
in a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place.

There was a bill in the window, "To be let, furnished. Apply to Parker
& Ellis."

He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked again. A lugubrious female
opened the door.

"Lady Bassett?"

"Don't live here, sir. House to be let."

Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told him.

Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mistaken; but he would
look at his address-book. He did, and said it was certainly 119
Gloucester Place; "Perhaps she has left," said he. "She was very
healthy--an excellent patient. But I should not have advised her to
move for a day or two more."

Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the agents, Parker &
Ellis.

They said, Yes; the house was Lady Bassett's for a few months. They
were instructed to let it.

"When did she leave? I am her husband, and we have missed each other
somehow."

The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had brought the keys in her
carriage yesterday.

Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance.

"Did she give you no address?"

"Yes, sir. Huntercombe Hall."

"I mean no address in London?"

"No, sir; none."

Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, and all manner of
strange ideas came into his head. He did not know what to do, but he
could not bear to do nothing, so he drove to the _Times_ office and
advertised, requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to Mr.
Rolfe.

At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe.

That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by the
last post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett to
her husband.



"119 Gloucester Place.

"DARLING--The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for the
noise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy carriage.
Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journey
will be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you and
I were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soon
be again, I hope.

"Your devoted wife.

"BELLA BASSETT.

"My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing."



Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfe
persuaded him not. "And mind," said he, "the faithful pugilists must go
with you."

The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letter
from Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positively
discharged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett.

Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosom
friend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife.

She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, and
when he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a
window opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and saw
his wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him. He
rushed upstairs, into the right room by some mighty instinct, and held
her, panting and crying for joy, in his arms.

That moment almost compensated what each had suffered.


CHAPTER XXXI.

So full was the joy of this loving pair that, for a long time, they sat
rocking in each other's arms, and thought of nothing but their sorrows
past, and the sea of bliss they were floating on.

But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. Swift to
interpret his every look, Lady Bassett rose, took two steps, came back
and printed a kiss on his forehead, and then went to a door and opened
it.

"Mrs. Millar!" said she, with one of those tones by which these ladies
impregnate with meaning a word that has none at all; and then she came
back to her husband.

Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a biggish bank of linen
and lace, with a little face in the middle. The good woman held it up
to Sir Charles, and he felt something novel stir inside him. He looked
at the little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, and a
good deal of curiosity; and then turned smiling to his wife. She had
watched him furtively but keenly, and her eyes were brimming over. He
kissed the little thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife's
hands, and kissed her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at baby
with him, hand in hand. It was a pretty picture.

The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple women do when they
exhibit a treasure of this sort; she lifted the little mite slowly up
and down, and said, "Oh, you Beauty!" and then went off into various
inarticulate sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of the
new philosophers: they cannot have been invented after speech; that
would be retrogression; they must be the vocal remains of that hairy,
sharp-eared quadruped, our Progenitor, who by accident discovered
language, and so turned Biped, and went ahead of all the other hairy
quadrupeds, whose ears were too long or not sharp enough to stumble
upon language.

Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett drew her husband a
little apart, and looking in his face with piteous wistfulness, said,
"You won't mind Richard Bassett and his baby now?"

"Not I."

"You will never have another fit while you live?"

"I promise."

"You will always be happy?"

"I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear."

"Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel!" And she pounced
on the mite, and kissed it far harder than Sir Charles had. Heaven
knows what these gentle creatures are so rough with their mouths to
children, but so it is.

And now how can a mere male relate all the pretty childish things that
were done and said to baby, and of baby, before the inevitable
squalling began, and baby was taken away to be consoled by another of
his subjects.

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things to tell each other,
to murmur in each other's ears, sitting lovingly close to each other.

But when all was quiet, and everybody else was in bed, Lady Bassett
plucked up courage and said, "Charles, I am not quite happy. There is
one thing wanting." And then she hid her face in her hands and blushed.
"I cannot nurse him."

"Never mind," said Sir Charles kindly.

"You forgive me?"

"Forgive you, my poor girl! Why, is that a crime?"

"It leads to so many things. You don't know what a plague a nurse is,
and makes one jealous."

"Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is a little
peevish. Don't let us be ungrateful to Heaven. As for me, while you and
our child live, I am proof against much greater misfortunes than that."

Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped.

But it was renewed next morning in a more definite form.

Sir Charles rose early; and in the pride and joy of his heart, and not
quite without an eye to triumphing over his mortal enemy and his cold
friends, sent a mounted messenger with orders to his servants to
prepare for his immediate reception, and to send out his landau and
four horses to the "Rose," at Staveleigh, half-way between Huntercombe
and the place where he now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself able
for the journey.

After breakfast he asked her rather suddenly whether Mrs. Millar was
not rather an elderly woman to select for a nurse. "I thought people
got a young woman for that office."

"Oh," said Lady Bassett, "why, Mrs. Millar is not _the_ nurse. Of
course nurse is young and healthy, and from the country, and the best I
could have in every way for baby. But yet--oh, Charles, I hope you will
not be angry--who do you think nurse is? It is Mary Gosport--Mary Wells
that was."

Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and that together, and
said, "Why, she must have been playing the fool, then?"

"Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman now, and her husband
gone to sea, and her child dead. Most wet-nurses have a child of their
own; and don't you think they must hate the stranger's child that parts
them from their own? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And the wet-nurse
is always a tyrant; and I thought, as this one has got into a habit of
obeying me, she might be more manageable; and then as to her having
been imprudent, I know many ladies who have been obliged to shut their
eyes a little. Why, consider, Charles, would good wives and good
mothers leave their own children to nurse a stranger's? Would their
husbands let them? And I thought," said she, piteously, "we were so
fortunate to get a young, healthy girl, imprudent but not vicious,
whose fault had been covered by marriage, and then so attached to us
both as she is, poor thing!"

Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of mole-hills. "Why, my
dear Bella," said he, "after all, this is your department, not mine."

"Yes, but unless I please you in every department there is no happiness
for me."

"But you know you please me in everything; and the more I look into
anything, the wiser I always think you. You have chosen the best
wet-nurse possible. Send her to me."

Lady Bassett hesitated. "You will be kind to her. You know the
consequence if anything happens to make her fret. Baby will suffer for
it."

"Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she potentate till he is weaned.
Dress for the journey, my dear, and send nurse to me."

Lady Bassett went into the next room, and after a long time Mary came
to Sir Charles with baby in her arms.

Mary had lost for a time some of her ruddy color, but her skin was
clearer, and somehow her face was softened. She looked really a
beautiful and attractive young woman.

She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good look at him.

"Well, nurse," said he, cheerfully, "here we are back again, both of
us."

"That we be, sir." And she showed her white teeth in a broad smile.
"La, sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. How well you do look, to be
sure!"

"Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. You look pretty well
too; only a little pale; paler than Lady Bassett does."

"I give my color to the child," said Mary, simply.

She did not know she had said anything poetic; but Sir Charles was so
touched and pleased with her answer that he gave her a five-pound note
on the spot; and he said, "We'll bring your color back if beef and beer
and kindness can do it."

"I ain't afeard o' that, sir; and I'll arn it. 'Tis a lovely boy, sir,
and your very image."

Inspection followed; and something or other offended young master; he
began to cackle. But this nurse did not take him away, as Mrs. Millar
had. She just sat down with him and nursed him openly, with rustic
composure and simplicity.

Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, and eyed the pair; for
all this was a new world of feeling to him. His paid servant seemed to
him to be playing the mother to his child. Somehow it gave him a
strange twinge, a sort of vicarious jealousy: he felt for his Bella.
But I think his own paternal pride, in all its freshness, was hurt a
little too.

At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out of the room, with
a hint to Mary that she must wrap herself up, for it would be an open
carriage--

"Your own carriage, sir, and horses?"

"Certainly."

"And do all the folk know as we are coming?"

Sir Charles laughed. "Most likely. Gossip is not dead at Huntercombe, I
dare say."

Nurse's black eyes flashed. "All the village will be out. I hope _he_
will see us ride in, the black-hearted villain!"

Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into that topic; he went
about his business.



Lady Bassett's carriage, duly packed, came round, and Lady Bassett was
ready soon afterward; so was Mrs. Millar; so was baby, imbedded now in
a nest of lawn and lace and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. Lady
Bassett explained _sotto voce_ to her husband, "Just at the last moment
she was seized with a desire to wear a silk gown I gave her. I argued
with her, but she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very hard
upon _you,_ dear."

Her face and voice were so piteous that Sir Charles burst out laughing.

"We must take the bitter along with the sweet. Don't you think the
sweet rather predominates at present?"

Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. "My darling is happy
now; trifles cannot put him out."

"I doubt if anything could shake me while I have you and our child. As
for that jade keeping us all waiting while she dons silk attire, it is
simply delicious. I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha! ha! ha!"

Mrs. Gosport appeared at last in a purple silk gown, and marched to the
carriage without the slightest sign of the discomfort she really felt;
but that was no wonder, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walk
not only smiling but jauntily, though dead lame on stilts, as you may
see any day in Regent Street.

Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby and his attendants in
first, then Lady Bassett, and got in last himself.

Before they had gone a mile Nurse No. 1 handed the child over to Nurse
No. 2 with a lofty condescension, as who should say, "You suffice for
porterage; I, the superior artist, reserve myself for emergencies." No.
2 received the invaluable bundle with meek complacency.

By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her position.

"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett, kindly. "Is the dress
too tight?"

"No, no, my lady," said Mary, sharply; "the gownd's all right." And
then she was quiet a little.

But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whispered Sir Charles, "I
think she wants to sit forward: _may_ I?"

"Certainly not. I'll change with her. Here, Mary, try this side. We
shall have more room in the landau; it is double, with wide seats."

Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of the window.
Indeed, she was quiet for nearly half an hour. At the expiration of
that period the fit took her again. She beckoned haughtily for baby,
"which did come at her command," as the song says. She got tired of
baby, or something, and handed him back again.

Presently she was discovered to be crying.

General consternation! Universal but vague consolation!

Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. Millar looked back
assent. Lady Bassett assumed the command, and took off Mary's shawl.

_"Yes,"_ said she to Mrs. Millar. "Now, Mary, be good; it _is_ too
tight."

Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty effort, while Lady
Bassett attacked the fastenings, and, with infinite difficulty, they
unhooked three bottom hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, and
the awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can command, and
how savagely abuse it to maltreat nature.

Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh of relief told the
truth, which the lying tongue had denied, as it always does whenever
the same question is put.

The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they entered the town
of Staveleigh.

Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, and took the child
again. He was her banner in all public places.

When they came up to the inn they were greeted with loud hurrahs. It
was market-day. The town was full of Sir Charles's tenants and other
farmers. His return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty had
resolved to ride with him into Huntercombe.

Copyright (c) 2007. topbookz.net. All rights reserved.