Part 21 (1/2)
”The brave lady! Who is that?”
”Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield and pleaded your cause with papa--oh, so eloquently! Sometimes when I think of it now I feel almost jealous. Who is she?”
”From what you have always told me, I think it was the Sister of Charity who nursed me.”
”You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that was only put on.
Charles, tell me the truth. What does it matter _now?_ It was some lady who loved you.”
”Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to you?”
”Women's love is so disinterested--sometimes.”
”No, no; she told me she was a sister of--, and no doubt that is the truth.”
”A sister of whom?”
”No matter: don't remind me of the past; it is odious to me; and, on second thoughts, rather than stir up all that mud, it would be better not to use the anonymous letter, even if you could get it again.”
Lady Ba.s.sett begged him to take advice on that; meantime she would try to get the letter, and also the evidence that Richard Ba.s.sett wrote it.
”I see no harm in that,” said Sir Charles; ”only confine your communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not have you speaking or writing to a woman I don't know: and the more I think of her conduct the less I understand it.”
”There are people who do good by stealth,” suggested Bella timidly.
”Fiddledeedee!” replied Sir Charles; ”you are a goose--I mean an angel.”
Lady Ba.s.sett complied with the letter, but, goose or not, evaded the spirit of Sir Charles's command with considerable dexterity.
”DEAR MR. OLDFIELD--You may guess what trouble I am in. Sir Charles will soon have to appear in open court, and be talked against by some great orator. That anonymous letter Mr. Ba.s.sett wrote me was very base, and is surely some justification of the violent epithets my dear husband, in an unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The brave lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I wish I dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but I must not, I suppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and perhaps she will favor us with a word of advice as well as the letter.
”I remain, yours faithfully,
”BELLA Ba.s.sETT.”
This letter was written at the brave lady; and Mr. Oldfield did what was expected, he sent Miss Somerset a copy of Lady Ba.s.sett's letter, and some lines in his own hand, describing Sir Charles's difficulty in a more businesslike way.
In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she was in the country, hunting, at no very great distance from Huntercombe Hall; she would sent up to town for her desk; the letter would be there, if she had kept it at all.
Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote back directly, urging expedition.
This produced an effect that he had not antic.i.p.ated.
One morning Lord Harrowdale's foxhounds met at a large covert, about five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir Charles told Lady Ba.s.sett she must ride to cover.
”Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear in public. We shall soon have publicity enough.”
”That is my reason. I have not done nor said anything I am ashamed of, and you will meet the county on this and on every public occasion.”