A Terrible Temptation: A Story of To-Day
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.
CHAPTER VIII.
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
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
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!”
“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!”
“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!