A Terrible Temptation: A Story of To-Day
house in the place; else how could I hope my Saviour would come to _my_
bedside at my last hour?”
This honest burst, from a meek lady who never talked nonsense, to be
sure, but seldom went into eloquence, staggered Richard Bassett, and
enraptured Ruperta so, that she flung both arms round her mother's
neck, and cried, “Oh, mamma! I always thought you were the best woman
in England, and now I know it.”
“Well, well, well,” said Richard, kindly enough; then to Ruperta, “Did
I ever say she was not the best woman in England? So you need not set
up your throats neck and neck at me, like two geese at a fox.
Unfortunately, she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the
best, and she is going to visit the cunningest. That Lady Bassett will
turn our mother inside out in no time. I wish you would go with her;
you are a shrewd girl.”
“My daughter will not go till she is asked,” said Mrs. Bassett, firmly.
“In that case,” said Richard, dryly, “let us hope the Lord will protect
you, since it is for love of Him you go into a she-fox's den.”
No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words being the words
of faith, but the voice the voice of skepticism.
Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet, and went to Huntercombe Hall.
After a very short delay she was ushered upstairs, to the room where
Lady Bassett was lying on a sofa.
Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her.
She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful and profound that it
rather frightened the little woman. Seeing which, Lady Bassett changed
her style, and came forward, extending both hands with admirable grace,
and gentle amity, not overdone.
Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full at each other in
silence, till the eyes of both ladies began to fill.
“You would have come--like this--years ago--at a word?” faltered Lady
Bassett.
“Yes,” gulped Mrs. Bassett.
Then there was another long pause.
“Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it has not killed us
both.”
“It will kill one of us.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by me, and let me hold
the hand I might have had years ago, if I had had the courage.”
“Why should you take the blame?” said Mrs. Bassett. “We have both been
good wives: too obedient, perhaps. But to have to choose between a
husband's commands and God's law, that is a terrible thing for any poor
woman.”
“It is, indeed.”
Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. Mrs. Bassett
broke it, with some hesitation. “I hope, Lady Bassett, your present
illness is not in any way--I hope you do not fear anything more from my
husband?”
“Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it--especially if we provoke
him? Mr. Reginald Bassett has returned, and you know he once gave your
husband cause for just resentment.”
“Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even if he should,
Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace.”
“Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with you. But I feared to
ask too much at once.”
“I'll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett.”
“No, bring her.”
“Then tell me your hour.”
“Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I want you both to
myself.”
While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, Richard Bassett,
being left alone with his daughter, proceeded to work with his usual
skill upon her young mind.
He reminded her of Mr. Rutland's prospects, and said he hoped to see
her a countess, and the loveliest jewel of the Peerage.
He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a day or two next week,
and requested her to receive him graciously.
She promised that at once.
“That,” said he, “will be a much better match for you than the younger
son of Sir Charles Bassett. However, my girl is too proud to go into a
family where she is not welcome.”
“Much too proud for that,” said Ruperta.
He left her smarting under that suggestion.
While he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. Bassett came home.
She was in raptures with Lady Bassett, and told her daughter all that
had passed; and, in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett to
take her to Huntercombe to-morrow.
“Me, dear!” cried Ruperta; “why, what can she want of me?”
“All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see you. In my
opinion, you will be _very_ welcome to poor Lady Bassett.”
“Is she very ill?”
Mrs. Bassett shook her head. “She is much changed. She says she should
be better if we were all at peace; but I don't know.”
“Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow.”
They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she was, Lady Bassett
received them charmingly. She was startled by Ruperta's beauty and
womanly appearance, but too well bred to show it, or say it all in a
moment. She spoke to the mother first; but presently took occasion to
turn to the daughter, and to say, “May I hope, Miss Bassett, that you
are on the side of peace, like your dear mother and myself?”
“I am,” said Ruperta, firmly; “I always was--especially after that
beautiful sermon, you know, mamma.”
Says the proud mother, “You might tell Lady Bassett you think it is
your mission to reunite your father and Sir Charles.”
“Mamma!” said Ruperta, reproachfully. That was to stop her mouth. “If
you tell all the wild things I say to you, her ladyship will think me
very presumptuous.”
“No, no,” said Lady Bassett, “enthusiasm is not presumption. Enthusiasm
is beautiful, and the brightest flower of youth.”
“I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people who have no
enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to me.”
“And so they are,” said Lady Bassett warmly.
But I have no time to record the full details of the conversation. I
can only present the general result. Lady Bassett thought Ruperta a
beautiful and noble girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and
Ruperta was charmed by Lady Bassett's exquisite manners, and touched
and interested by her pale yet still beautiful face and eyes. They made
friends; but it was not till the third visit, when many kind things had
passed between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject she had
at heart. “My dear,” said she to Ruperta, “when I first saw you, I
wondered at my son Compton's audacity in loving a young lady so much
more advanced than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I think
the poor boy's audacity was only a proper courage. He has all my
sympathy, and, if he is not quite indifferent to you, let me just put
in my word, and say there is not a young lady in the world I could bear
for my daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, my dear.”
“Thank you, Lady Bassett,” said Mrs. Bassett; “and, since you have said
so much, let me speak my mind. So long as your son is attached to my
daughter, I could never welcome any other son-in-law. I HAVE GOT THE
TIPPET.”
Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta, for an explanation. Ruperta only
blushed, and looked uncomfortable. She hated all allusion to the feats
of her childhood.
Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett's look of perplexity, and said, eagerly,
“You never missed it? All the better. I thought I would keep it, for a
peacemaker partly.”
“My dear friend,” said Lady Bassett, “you are speaking riddles to me;
what tippet?”
“The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and put it round my
girl, that terrible night they were lost in the wood. Forgive me
keeping it, Lady Bassett--I know I was little better than a thief; but
it was only a tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady
Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since; you can't wonder,
you are a mother;” and, turning suddenly on Ruperta, “why do you keep
saying he is only a boy? If he was man enough to do that at seven years
of age, he must have a manly heart. No; I couldn't bear the sight of
any other son-in-law; and when you are a mother you'll understand many
things, and, for one, you'll--under--stand--why I'm so--fool--ish;
seeing the sweet boy's mother ready--to cry--too--oh! oh! oh!”
Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers had a sweet cry
together in each other's arms.
Ruperta's eyes were wet at this; but she told her mother she ought not
to agitate Lady Bassett, and she so ill.
“And that is true, my good, sensible girl,” said Mrs. Bassett; “but it
has lain in my heart these nine years, and I could not keep it to
myself any longer. But you are a beauty and a spoiled child, and so I
suppose you think nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you
warm.”
“Don't say that, mamma,” said Ruperta, reproachfully. “I spoke to dear
Compton about it not long ago. He had forgotten all about it, even.”
“All the more to his credit; but don't you ever forget it, my own
girl.”
“I never will, mamma.”
By degrees the three became so unreserved that Ruperta was gently urged
to declare her real sentiments.
By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her fear lest she
should be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; but there was an obstacle in
her own mind. She was a frank, courageous girl; but this appeal tried
her hard.
She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, and said, pretty
firmly and very slowly, “I had always a great affection for my cousin
Compton; and so I have now. But I am not in love with him. He is but a
boy; now I--”
A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of beauty and
conscious womanhood, completed the sentence.
“He will get older every day,” said Mrs. Bassett.
“And so shall I.”
“But you will not look older, and he will. You have come to your full
growth. He hasn't.”
“I agree with the dear girl,” said Lady Bassett, adroitly. “Compton,
with his fair hair, looks so young, it would be ridiculous at present.
But it is possible to be engaged, and wait a proper time for marriage;
what I fear is, lest you should be tempted by some other offer. To
speak plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to you, and
visits at Highmore.”
“Yes, he has been there twice.”
“He is welcome to your father; and his prospects are dazzling; and he
is not a boy, for he has long mustaches.”
“I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by his prospects,”
said the fair young beauty.
“You are an extraordinary girl.”
“That she is,” said Mrs. Bassett. “Her father has no more power over
her than I have.”
“Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?”
“No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way.”
Lady Bassett put in her word. “Well, but this one thing is the
happiness or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for looking
well before she leaps.”
A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker.
“But,” said Lady Bassett, tenderly, “it is something to have two
mothers when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, my
love; I would try and live for you.”
This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett's
neck, and they kissed each other like mother and daughter.
“This is too great a temptation,” said Ruperta. “Yes; I _will_ engage
myself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Without
his consent I could not marry any one.”
“Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot,” said Mrs. Bassett.
Ruperta shook her head. “Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years to
gain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate
as fifty.”
“It shall not take years, nor yet months,” said Lady Bassett. “I know
_Mr. Bassett's_ objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may.”
This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply.
Said Lady Bassett firmly, “Do you pledge yourself to me, if I can
obtain Mr. Bassett's consent?”
“I do,” said Ruperta. “But--”
“You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hope
to show you you are mistaken.”