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NOTE:
NOTE:
ADDRESSED TO THE READER. IN offering this book to you, I have no Preface to write. I have only to request that you will bear in mind certain established truths, which occasionally escape your memory when you are reading a work of fiction. Be pleased, then, to remember (First): That the actions of human beings are not invariably governed by the laws of pure reason. (Secondly): That we are by no means always in the habit of bestowing our love on the objects which are the most deserving of it, in t
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CHAPTER I. THE BRIDE’S MISTAKE.
CHAPTER I. THE BRIDE’S MISTAKE.
“FOR after this manner in the old time the holy women also who trusted in God adorned themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands; even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord; whose daughters ye are as long as ye do well, and are not afraid with any amazement.” Concluding the Marriage Service of the Church of England in those well-known words, my uncle Starkweather shut up his book, and looked at me across the altar rails with a hearty expression of interest on his broad, red face
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CHAPTER II. THE BRIDE’S THOUGHTS.
CHAPTER II. THE BRIDE’S THOUGHTS.
WE had been traveling for a little more than an hour when a change passed insensibly over us both. Still sitting close together, with my hand in his, with my head on his shoulder, little by little we fell insensibly into silence. Had we already exhausted the narrow yet eloquent vocabulary of love? Or had we determined by unexpressed consent, after enjoying the luxury of passion that speaks, to try the deeper and finer rapture of passion that thinks? I can hardly determine; I only know that a tim
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CHAPTER III. RAMSGATE SANDS.
CHAPTER III. RAMSGATE SANDS.
EUSTACE succeeded in quieting my alarm. But I can hardly say that he succeeded in satisfying my mind as well. He had been thinking, he told me, of the contrast between his past and his present life. Bitter remembrance of the years that had gone had risen in his memory, and had filled him with melancholy misgivings of his capacity to make my life with him a happy one. He had asked himself if he had not met me too late—if he were not already a man soured and broken by the disappointments and disen
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CHAPTER IV. ON THE WAY HOME.
CHAPTER IV. ON THE WAY HOME.
LEFT by ourselves, there was a moment of silence among us. Eustace spoke first. “Are you able to walk back?” he said to me. “Or shall we go on to Broadstairs, and return to Ramsgate by the railway?” He put those questions as composedly, so far as his manner was concerned, as if nothing remarkable had happened. But his eyes and his lips betrayed him. They told me that he was suffering keenly in secret. The extraordinary scene that had just passed, far from depriving me of the last remains of my c
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CHAPTER V. THE LANDLADY’S DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER V. THE LANDLADY’S DISCOVERY.
I SAT down, and tried to compose my spirits. Now or never was the time to decide what it was my duty to my husband and my duty to myself to do next. The effort was beyond me. Worn out in mind and body alike, I was perfectly incapable of pursuing any regular train of thought. I vaguely felt—if I left things as they were—that I could never hope to remove the shadow which now rested on the married life that had begun so brightly. We might live together, so as to save appearances. But to forget what
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CHAPTER VI. MY OWN DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER VI. MY OWN DISCOVERY.
FORTUNATELY for me, the landlord did not open the door when I rang. A stupid maid-of-all-work, who never thought of asking me for my name, let me in. Mrs. Macallan was at home, and had no visitors with her. Giving me this information, the maid led the way upstairs, and showed me into the drawing-room without a word of announcement. My mother-in-law was sitting alone, near a work-table, knitting. The moment I appeared in the doorway she laid aside her work, and, rising, signed to me with a comman
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CHAPTER VII. ON THE WAY TO THE MAJOR.
CHAPTER VII. ON THE WAY TO THE MAJOR.
“YES,” said Benjamin. “It is a coincidence certainly. Still—” He stopped and looked at me. He seemed a little doubtful how I might receive what he had it in his mind to say to me next. “Go on,” I said. “Still, my dear, I see nothing suspicious in what has happened,” he resumed. “To my mind it is quite natural that your husband, being in London, should pay a visit to one of his friends. And it’s equally natural that we should pass through Vivian Place on our way back here. This seems to be the re
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CHAPTER VIII. THE FRIEND OF THE WOMEN.
CHAPTER VIII. THE FRIEND OF THE WOMEN.
I FIND it impossible to describe my sensations while the carriage was taking me to Major Fitz-David’s house. I doubt, indeed, if I really felt or thought at all, in the true sense of those words. From the moment when I had resigned myself into the hands of the chambermaid I seemed in some strange way to have lost my ordinary identity—to have stepped out of my own character. At other times my temperament was of the nervous and anxious sort, and my tendency was to exaggerate any difficulties that
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CHAPTER IX. THE DEFEAT OF THE MAJOR.
CHAPTER IX. THE DEFEAT OF THE MAJOR.
MAJOR FITZ-DAVID’S visitor proved to be a plump, round-eyed overdressed girl, with a florid complexion and straw colored hair. After first fixing on me a broad stare of astonishment, she pointedly addressed her apologies for intruding on us to the Major alone. The creature evidently believed me to be the last new object of the old gentleman’s idolatry; and she took no pains to disguise her jealous resentment on discovering us together. Major Fitz-David set matters right in his own irresistible w
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CHAPTER X. THE SEARCH.
CHAPTER X. THE SEARCH.
THE fire burning in the grate was not a very large one; and the outer air (as I had noticed on my way to the house) had something of a wintry sharpness in it that day. Still, my first feeling, when Major Fitz-David left me, was a feeling of heat and oppression, with its natural result, a difficulty in breathing freely. The nervous agitation of the time was, I suppose, answerable for these sensations. I took off my bonnet and mantle and gloves, and opened the window for a little while. Nothing wa
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CHAPTER XI. THE RETURN TO LIFE.
CHAPTER XI. THE RETURN TO LIFE.
My first remembrance when I began to recover my senses was the remembrance of Pain—agonizing pain, as if every nerve in my body were being twisted and torn out of me. My whole being writhed and quivered under the dumb and dreadful protest of Nature against the effort to recall me to life. I would have given worlds to be able to cry out—to entreat the unseen creatures about me to give me back to death. How long that speechless agony held me I never knew. In a longer or shorter time there stole ov
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CHAPTER XII. THE SCOTCH VERDICT.
CHAPTER XII. THE SCOTCH VERDICT.
We walked to the far end of the hall. Major Fitz-David opened the door of a long, narrow room built out at the back of the house as a smoking-room, and extending along one side of the courtyard as far as the stable wall. My husband was alone in the room, seated at the further end of it, near the fire-place. He started to his feet and faced me in silence as I entered. The Major softly closed the door on us and retired. Eustace never stirred a step to meet me. I ran to him, and threw my arms round
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CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN’S DECISION.
CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN’S DECISION.
MY first impulse was the reckless impulse to follow Eustace—openly through the streets. The Major and Benjamin both opposed this hasty resolution on my part. They appealed to my own sense of self-respect, without (so far as I remember it) producing the slightest effect on my mind. They were more successful when they entreated me next to be patient for my husband’s sake. In mercy to Eustace, they begged me to wait half an hour. If he failed to return in that time, they pledged themselves to accom
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CHAPTER XIV. THE WOMAN’S ANSWER.
CHAPTER XIV. THE WOMAN’S ANSWER.
THUS far I have written of myself with perfect frankness, and, I think I may fairly add, with some courage as well. My frankness fails me and my courage fails me when I look back to my husband’s farewell letter, and try to recall the storm of contending passions that it roused in my mind. No! I cannot tell the truth about myself—I dare not tell the truth about myself—at that terrible time. Men! consult your observation of women, and imagine what I felt; women! look into your own hearts, and see
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CHAPTER XV. THE STORY OF THE TRIAL. THE PRELIMINARIES.
CHAPTER XV. THE STORY OF THE TRIAL. THE PRELIMINARIES.
LET me confess another weakness, on my part, before I begin the Story of the Trial. I cannot prevail upon myself to copy, for the second time, the horrible title-page which holds up to public ignominy my husband’s name. I have copied it once in my tenth chapter. Let once be enough. Turning to the second page of the Trial, I found a Note, assuring the reader of the absolute correctness of the Report of the Proceedings. The compiler described himself as having enjoyed certain special privileges. T
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CHAPTER XVI. FIRST QUESTION—DID THE WOMAN DIE POISONED?
CHAPTER XVI. FIRST QUESTION—DID THE WOMAN DIE POISONED?
THE proceedings began at ten o’clock. The prisoner was placed at the Bar, before the High Court of Justiciary, at Edinburgh. He bowed respectfully to the Bench, and pleaded Not Guilty, in a low voice. It was observed by every one present that the prisoner’s face betrayed traces of acute mental suffering. He was deadly pale. His eyes never once wandered to the crowd in the Court. When certain witnesses appeared against him, he looked at them with a momentary attention. At other times he kept his
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CHAPTER XVII. SECOND QUESTION—WHO POISONED HER?
CHAPTER XVII. SECOND QUESTION—WHO POISONED HER?
THE evidence of the doctors and the chemists closed the proceedings on the first day of the Trial. On the second day the evidence to be produced by the prosecution was anticipated with a general feeling of curiosity and interest. The Court was now to hear what had been seen and done by the persons officially appointed to verify such cases of suspected crime as the case which had occurred at Gleninch. The Procurator-Fiscal—being the person officially appointed to direct the preliminary investigat
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CHAPTER XVIII. THIRD QUESTION—WHAT WAS HIS MOTIVE?
CHAPTER XVIII. THIRD QUESTION—WHAT WAS HIS MOTIVE?
THE first question (Did the Woman Die Poisoned?) had been answered, positively. The second question (Who Poisoned Her?) had been answered, apparently. There now remained the third and final question—What was His Motive? The first evidence called in answer to that inquiry was the evidence of relatives and friends of the dead wife. Lady Brydehaven, widow of Rear-Admiral Sir George Brydehaven, examined by Mr. Drew (counsel for the Crown with the Lord Advocate), gave evidence as follows: “The deceas
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CHAPTER XIX. THE EVIDENCE FOR THE DEFENSE.
CHAPTER XIX. THE EVIDENCE FOR THE DEFENSE.
THE feeling of interest excited by the Trial was prodigiously increased on the fourth day. The witnesses for the defense were now to be heard, and first and foremost among them appeared the prisoner’s mother. She looked at her son as she lifted her veil to take the oath. He burst into tears. At that moment the sympathy felt for the mother was generally extended to the unhappy son. Examined by the Dean of Faculty, Mrs. Macallan the elder gave her answers with remarkable dignity and self-control.
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CHAPTER XX. THE END OF THE TRIAL.
CHAPTER XX. THE END OF THE TRIAL.
THE calling of the new witness provoked a burst of laughter among the audience due partly, no doubt, to the strange name by which he had been summoned; partly, also, to the instinctive desire of all crowded assemblies, when their interest is painfully excited, to seize on any relief in the shape of the first subject of merriment which may present itself. A severe rebuke from the Bench restored order among the audience. The Lord Justice Clerk declared that he would “clear the Court” if the interr
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CHAPTER XXI. I SEE MY WAY.
CHAPTER XXI. I SEE MY WAY.
IN the gray light of the new morning I closed the Report of my husband’s Trial for the Murder of his first Wife. No sense of fatigue overpowered me. I had no wish, after my long hours of reading and thinking, to lie down and sleep. It was strange, but it was so. I felt as if I had slept, and had now just awakened—a new woman, with a new mind. I could now at last understand Eustace’s desertion of me. To a man of his refinement it would have been a martyrdom to meet his wife after she had read the
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CHAPTER XXII. THE MAJOR MAKES DIFFICULTIES.
CHAPTER XXII. THE MAJOR MAKES DIFFICULTIES.
As I opened the dining-room door the Major hastened to meet me. He looked the brightest and the youngest of living elderly gentlemen, with his smart blue frock-coat, his winning smile, his ruby ring, and his ready compliment. It was quite cheering to meet the modern Don Juan once more. “I don’t ask after your health,” said the old gentleman; “your eyes answer me, my dear lady, before I can put the question. At your age a long sleep is the true beauty-draught. Plenty of bed—there is the simple se
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
MY MOTHER-IN-LAW SURPRISES ME. I TOOK a chair at a respectful distance from the sofa on which Mrs. Macallan seated herself. The old lady smiled, and beckoned to me to take my place by her side. Judging by appearances, she had certainly not come to see me in the character of an enemy. It remained to be discovered whether she were really disposed to be my friend. “I have received a letter from your uncle the vicar,” she began. “He asks me to visit you, and I am happy—for reasons which you shall pr
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CHAPTER XXIV. MISERRIMUS DEXTER—FIRST VIEW.
CHAPTER XXIV. MISERRIMUS DEXTER—FIRST VIEW.
WE had dawdled over our luncheon before Mrs. Macallan arrived at Benjamin’s cottage. The ensuing conversation between the old lady and myself (of which I have only presented a brief abstract) lasted until quite late in the afternoon. The sun was setting in heavy clouds when we got into the carriage, and the autumn twilight began to fall around us while we were still on the road. The direction in which we drove took us (as well as I could judge) toward the great northern suburb of London. For mor
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CHAPTER XXV. MISERRIMUS DEXTER—SECOND VIEW
CHAPTER XXV. MISERRIMUS DEXTER—SECOND VIEW
THOROUGHLY disheartened and disgusted, and (if I must honestly confess it) thoroughly frightened too, I whispered to Mrs. Macallan, “I was wrong, and you were right. Let us go.” The ears of Miserrimus Dexter must have been as sensitive as the ears of a dog. He heard me say, “Let us go.” “No!” he called out. “Bring Eustace Macallan’s second wife in here. I am a gentleman—I must apologize to her. I am a student of human character—I wish to see her.” The whole man appeared to have undergone a compl
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CHAPTER XXVI. MORE OF MY OBSTINACY.
CHAPTER XXVI. MORE OF MY OBSTINACY.
ARIEL was downstairs in the shadowy hall, half asleep, half awake, waiting to see the visitors clear of the house. Without speaking to us, without looking at us, she led the way down the dark garden walk, and locked the gate behind us. “Good-night, Ariel,” I called out to her over the paling. Nothing answered me but the tramp of her heavy footsteps returning to the house, and the dull thump, a moment afterward, of the closing door. The footman had thoughtfully lighted the carriage lamps. Carryin
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CHAPTER XXVII. MR. DEXTER AT HOME.
CHAPTER XXVII. MR. DEXTER AT HOME.
I FOUND all the idle boys in the neighborhood collected around the pony-chaise, expressing, in the occult language of slang, their high enjoyment and appreciation at the appearance of “Ariel” in her man’s jacket and hat. The pony was fidgety— he felt the influence of the popular uproar. His driver sat, whip in hand, magnificently impenetrable to the gibes and jests that were flying around her. I said “Good-morning” on getting into the chaise. Ariel only said “Gee up!” and started the pony. I mad
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CHAPTER XXVIII. IN THE DARK.
CHAPTER XXVIII. IN THE DARK.
WITH such a man as Miserrimus Dexter, and with such a purpose as I had in view, no half-confidences were possible. I must either risk the most unreserved acknowledgment of the interests that I really had at stake, or I must make the best excuse that occurred to me for abandoning my contemplated experiment at the last moment. In my present critical situation, no such refuge as a middle course lay before me—even if I had been inclined to take it. As things were, I ran risks, and plunged headlong i
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CHAPTER XXIX. IN THE LIGHT.
CHAPTER XXIX. IN THE LIGHT.
A LITTLE interval of solitude was a relief to me, as well as to Miserrimus Dexter. Startling doubts beset me as I walked restlessly backward and forward, now in the anteroom, and now in the corridor outside. It was plain that I had (quite innocently) disturbed the repose of some formidable secrets in Miserrimus Dexter’s mind. I confused and wearied my poor brains in trying to guess what the secrets might be. All my ingenuity—as after-events showed me—was wasted on speculations not one of which e
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CHAPTER XXX. THE INDICTMENT OF MRS. BEAULY.
CHAPTER XXX. THE INDICTMENT OF MRS. BEAULY.
I STARTED to my feet, and looked at Miserrimus Dexter. I was too much agitated to be able to speak to him. My utmost expectations had not prepared me for the tone of absolute conviction in which he had spoken. At the best, I had anticipated that he might, by the barest chance, agree with me in suspecting Mrs. Beauly. And now his own lips had said it, without hesitation or reserve! “There isn’t the shadow of a doubt: Mrs. Beauly poisoned her.” “Sit down,” he said, quietly. “There’s nothing to be
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CHAPTER XXXI. THE DEFENSE OF MRS. BEAULY.
CHAPTER XXXI. THE DEFENSE OF MRS. BEAULY.
THE days that elapsed before Major Fitz-David’s dinner-party were precious days to me. My long interview with Miserrimus Dexter had disturbed me far more seriously than I suspected at the time. It was not until some hours after I had left him that I really began to feel how my nerves had been tried by all that I had seen and heard during my visit at his house. I started at the slightest noises; I dreamed of dreadful things; I was ready to cry without reason at one moment, and to fly into a passi
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CHAPTER XXXII. A SPECIMEN OF MY WISDOM.
CHAPTER XXXII. A SPECIMEN OF MY WISDOM.
THE scene must follow my erratic movements—the scene must close on London for a while, and open in Edinburgh. Two days had passed since Major Fitz-David’s dinner-party. I was able to breathe again freely, after the utter destruction of all my plans for the future, and of all the hopes that I had founded on them. I could now see that I had been trebly in the wrong—wrong in hastily and cruelly suspecting an innocent woman; wrong in communicating my suspicions (without an attempt to verify them pre
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CHAPTER XXXIII. A SPECIMEN OF MY FOLLY.
CHAPTER XXXIII. A SPECIMEN OF MY FOLLY.
THE incomprehensible submission of Scotchmen to the ecclesiastical tyranny of their Established Church has produced—not unnaturally, as I think—a very mistaken impression of the national character in the popular mind. Public opinion looks at the institution of “The Sabbath” in Scotland; finds it unparalleled in Christendom for its senseless and savage austerity; sees a nation content to be deprived by its priesthood of every social privilege on one day in every week—forbidden to travel; forbidde
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CHAPTER XXXIV. GLENINCH.
CHAPTER XXXIV. GLENINCH.
“AHA!” said Benjamin, complacently. “So the lawyer thinks, as I do, that you will be highly imprudent if you go back to Mr. Dexter? A hard-headed, sensible man the lawyer, no doubt. You will listen to Mr. Playmore, won’t you, though you wouldn’t listen to me?” (I had of course respected Mr. Playmore’s confidence in me when Benjamin and I met on my return to the hotel. Not a word relating to the lawyer’s horrible suspicion of Miserrimus Dexter had passed my lips.) “You must forgive me, my old fri
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CHAPTER XXXV. MR. PLAYMORE’S PROPHECY.
CHAPTER XXXV. MR. PLAYMORE’S PROPHECY.
WE reached London between eight and nine in the evening. Strictly methodical in all his habits, Benjamin had telegraphed to his housekeeper, from Edinburgh, to have supper ready or us by ten o’clock, and to send the cabman whom he always employed to meet us at the station. Arriving at the villa, we were obliged to wait for a moment to let a pony-chaise get by us before we could draw up at Benjamin’s door. The chaise passed very slowly, driven by a rough-looking man, with a pipe in his mouth. But
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CHAPTER XXXVI. ARIEL.
CHAPTER XXXVI. ARIEL.
I PASSED a sleepless night. The outrage that had been offered to me was bad enough in itself. But consequences were associated with it which might affect me more seriously still. In so far as the attainment of the one object of my life might yet depend on my personal association with Miserrimus Dexter, an insurmountable obstacle appeared to be now placed in my way. Even in my husband’s interests, ought I to permit a man who had grossly insulted me to approach me again? Although I was no prude, I
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CHAPTER XXXVII. AT THE BEDSIDE.
CHAPTER XXXVII. AT THE BEDSIDE.
BEFORE she had uttered a word, I saw in my mother-in-law’s face that she brought bad news. “Eustace?” I said. She answered me by a look. “Let me hear it at once!” I cried. “I can bear anything but suspense.” Mrs. Macallan lifted her hand, and showed me a telegraphic dispatch which she had hitherto kept concealed in the folds of her dress. “I can trust your courage,” she said. “There is no need, my child, to prevaricate with you. Read that.” I read the telegram. It was sent by the chief surgeon o
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CHAPTER XXXVIII. ON THE JOURNEY BACK.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. ON THE JOURNEY BACK.
IF I had been traveling homeward in my own carriage, the remaining chapters of this narrative would never have been written. Before we had been an hour on the road I should have called to the driver, and should have told him to turn back. Who can be always resolute? In asking that question, I speak of the women, not of the men. I had been resolute in turning a deaf ear to Mr. Playmore’s doubts and cautions; resolute in holding out against my mother-in-law; resolute in taking my place by the Fren
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CHAPTER XXXIX. ON THE WAY TO DEXTER.
CHAPTER XXXIX. ON THE WAY TO DEXTER.
“I DECLARE to Heaven, Valeria, I believe that monster’s madness is infectious—and you have caught it!” This was Benjamin’s opinion of me (on my safe arrival at the villa) after I had announced my intention of returning Miserrimus Dexter’s visit, in his company. Being determined to carry my point, I could afford to try the influence of mild persuasion. I begged my good friend to have a little patience with me. “And do remember what I have already told you,” I added. “It is of serious importance t
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CHAPTER XL. NEMESIS AT LAST.
CHAPTER XL. NEMESIS AT LAST.
THE gardener opened the gate to us on this occasion. He had evidently received his orders in anticipation of my arrival. “Mrs. Valeria?” he asked. “Yes.” “And friend?” “And friend.” “Please to step upstairs. You know the house.” Crossing the hall, I stopped for a moment, and looked at a favorite walking-cane which Benjamin still kept in his hand. “Your cane will only be in your way,” I said. “Had you not better leave it here?” “My cane may be useful upstairs,” retorted Benjamin, gruffly. “ I hav
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CHAPTER XLI. MR. PLAYMORE IN A NEW CHARACTER.
CHAPTER XLI. MR. PLAYMORE IN A NEW CHARACTER.
BY that night’s post—although I was far from being fit to make the exertion—I wrote to Mr. Playmore, to tell him what had taken place, and to beg for his earliest assistance and advice. The notes in Benjamin’s book were partly written in shorthand, and were, on that account, of no use to me in their existing condition. At my request, he made two fair copies. One of the copies I inclosed in my letter to Mr. Playmore. The other I laid by me, on my bedside table, when I went to rest. Over and over
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CHAPTER XLII. MORE SURPRISES.
CHAPTER XLII. MORE SURPRISES.
The same evening I received my “abstract” by the hands of a clerk. It was an intensely characteristic document. My expenses were remorselessly calculated downward to shillings and even to pence; and our unfortunate messenger’s instructions in respect to his expenditure were reduced to a nicety which must have made his life in America nothing less than a burden to him. In mercy to the man, I took the liberty, when I wrote back to Mr. Playmore, of slightly increasing the indicated amount of the fi
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CHAPTER XLIII. AT LAST!
CHAPTER XLIII. AT LAST!
MY letter from Mr. Playmore, inclosing the agent’s extraordinary telegram, was not inspired by the sanguine view of our prospects which he had expressed to me when we met at Benjamin’s house. “If the telegram mean anything,” he wrote, “it means that the fragments of the torn letter have been cast into the housemaid’s bucket (along with the dust, the ashes, and the rest of the litter in the room), and have been emptied on the dust-heap at Gleninch. Since this was done, the accumulated refuse coll
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CHAPTER XLIV. OUR NEW HONEYMOON.
CHAPTER XLIV. OUR NEW HONEYMOON.
It is not to be disguised or denied that my spirits were depressed on my journey to London. To resign the one cherished purpose of my life, when I had suffered so much in pursuing it, and when I had (to all appearance) so nearly reached the realization of my hopes, was putting to a hard trial a woman’s fortitude and a woman’s sense of duty. Still, even if the opportunity had been offered to me, I would not have recalled my letter to Mr. Playmore. “It is done, and well done,” I said to myself; “a
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CHAPTER XLV. THE DUST-HEAP DISTURBED.
CHAPTER XLV. THE DUST-HEAP DISTURBED.
My head turned giddy. I was obliged to wait and let my overpowering agitation subside, before I could read any more. Looking at the letter again, after an interval, my eyes fell accidentally on a sentence near the end, which surprised and startled me. I stopped the driver of the carriage, at the entrance to the street in which our lodgings were situated, and told him to take me to the beautiful park of Paris—the famous Bois de Boulogne. My object was to gain time enough, in this way, to read the
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CHAPTER XLVI. THE CRISIS DEFERRED.
CHAPTER XLVI. THE CRISIS DEFERRED.
“TAKE care, Valeria!” said Mrs. Macallan. “I ask you no questions; I only caution you for your own sake. Eustace has noticed what I have noticed—Eustace has seen a change in you. Take care!” So my mother-in-law spoke to me later in the day, when we happened to be alone. I had done my best to conceal all traces of the effect produced on me by the strange and terrible news from Gleninch. But who could read what I had read, who could feel what I now felt, and still maintain an undisturbed serenity
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CHAPTER XLVII. THE WIFE’S CONFESSION.
CHAPTER XLVII. THE WIFE’S CONFESSION.
“GLENINCH, October 19, 18—. “MY HUSBAND— “I have something very painful to tell you about one of your oldest friends. “You have never encouraged me to come to you with any confidences of mine. If you had allowed me to be as familiar with you as some wives are with their husbands, I should have spoken to you personally instead of writing. As it is, I don’t know how you might receive what I have to say to you if I said it by word of mouth. So I write. “The man against whom I warn you is still a gu
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CHAPTER XLVIII. WHAT ELSE COULD I DO?
CHAPTER XLVIII. WHAT ELSE COULD I DO?
As soon as I could dry my eyes and compose my spirits after reading the wife’s pitiable and dreadful farewell, my first thought was of Eustace—my first anxiety was to prevent him from ever reading what I had read. Yes! to this end it had come. I had devoted my life to the attainment of one object; and that object I had gained. There, on the table before me, lay the triumphant vindication of my husband’s innocence; and, in mercy to him, in mercy to the memory of his dead wife, my one hope was tha
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CHAPTER XLIX. PAST AND FUTURE.
CHAPTER XLIX. PAST AND FUTURE.
I write from memory, unassisted by notes or diaries; and I have no distinct recollection of the length of our residence abroad. It certainly extended over a period of some months. Long after Eustace was strong enough to take the journey to London the doctors persisted in keeping him in Paris. He had shown symptoms of weakness in one of his lungs, and his medical advisers, seeing that he prospered in the dry atmosphere of France, warned him to be careful of breathing too soon the moist air of his
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CHAPTER L.
CHAPTER L.
THE LAST OF THE STORY. In ten days more we returned to England, accompanied by Benjamin. Mrs. Macallan’s house in London offered us ample accommodation. We gladly availed ourselves of her proposal, when she invited us to stay with her until our child was born, and our plans for the future were arranged. The sad news from the asylum (for which Benjamin had prepared my mind at Paris) reached me soon after our return to England. Miserrimus Dexter’s release from the burden of life had come to him by
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