As the Countess of Ilfracombe returned to the Hall, with her packet
of letters in her hand, her heart was very glad, but at the same time
it was filled with soberer thoughts than it had indulged in for some
time past. What was after all the great difference between her and
Nell Llewellyn? She had not fallen, it was true--she had not openly
disgraced herself--but what had her flirtation with Jack Portland been
if not a lowering of her womanly dignity; a soiling of her purity;
a smirching of the delicate bloom and whiteness that should have
protected her maidenly life as with a veil? Nora felt terribly ashamed
of herself as she remembered it. Her great fear had passed away, thanks
to Nell’s interest and intrepidity, and her mind had time to think
of other things. This poor despised girl had saved her from all sorts
of horrors; preserved her husband’s faith in her; his love for her;
had placed in her hand, as it were, the whole happiness of her life.
But she herself--if she destroyed these letters, as she fully intended
to do, how would she be any better than before--any more deserving
of Ilfracombe’s affection and confidence? She would be safe, it is
true, but safety did not constitute worthiness. And Nora had begun to
long to _deserve_ her husband’s love--to be able to accept it with an
unburdened conscience--feeling that there was nothing between them, not
even a shadow cast from the past. Could she, she asked herself, as she
wended homewards, ever summon up the courage to tell him everything,
to make him the arbiter of her destiny, to constitute him her judge
and await the sentence he chose to pronounce upon her? It would be
very awful she thought, terrible beyond description; she did not think
she could possibly undergo such an ordeal. She pictured to herself
Ilfracombe’s stern face as he listened to the unfolding of a tale so
dissonant to his own feelings, so unlike all he had conceived of her,
so dreadful to hear of the woman of whom he thought so highly, who he
had chosen for his wife before all others. Nora shuddered when she
thought thus, and told herself that it could not be. She valued his
good opinion and his affection too highly. But there was another side
of the question. Without telling Lord Ilfracombe, her own part in the
matter, how could she convince him of the treachery of Jack Portland
towards them both; how induce him to break off, once and for ever,
the dangerous intimacy which united them. Her husband might refuse
to believe her mere word, as he had refused before. He was a loyal
friend, and a generous man. He would not judge anyone on the unproved
testimony of another person. Without the proof which those letters
conveyed, would she have any more influence with him than she had
had before, when he pooh-poohed her warnings as the idle fears of a
well-meaning but ignorant woman? And had she the courage for the sake
of them both, and especially for the sake of the husband whom she was
beginning to love far better than she did herself, to brave the verdict
of Ilfracombe’s displeasure, and tell him the whole truth? Nell had
been courageous for both their sakes. From a worldly point of view
she had no particular reason to care for the earl’s interests, still
less for those of the wife who had supplanted her; yet she had braved
being called a thief, and any other hard name Mr Portland might have
thought fit in his rage to cast at her, in order to do good to those
who had in a measure wronged her. Nell was worth a thousand of Nora,
so the wife of Ilfracombe said inwardly as she dwelt on these things.
And musing after this fashion she reached the Hall, not much happier
than she had left it. It was true that she had regained possession
of the letters which had made a nightmare of her married life, but
they had not brought the peace with them which she had imagined they
would. She was out of a certain danger, but she was still _herself_,
that was what Nora thought, still, a wife who had deceived her trusting
husband, and would not be cleansed in her own eyes till she had made a
full confession of her sin. It was contemplating the divine forgiveness
which Nell had extended to them both, the single-heartedness which she
displayed, the patience and humility with which she bore her own sad
lot, which was influencing Lady Ilfracombe almost unconsciously to
imitate her as far as lay in her power.
Her indecision, combined with the promptings of the good angel within
her, to do what was right, made Nora _distraite_ and melancholy during
the period of dressing for dinner, and when Lord Ilfracombe joined her
he chaffed her on the bad effects of botanising with Jack.
‘You had much better have come out with Lady Bowmant and myself, Nora,’
he said; ‘we have had a rousing time, but you look as dull as ditch
water. What has old Jack been saying to you to quench your spirits?’
‘Your dear particular friend has not been saying anything at all
to me, Ilfracombe. I have not set eyes on him. He did not keep his
appointment.’
The earl suspended his operations of dressing, and turned round to
regard her with surprise.
‘Jack didn’t turn up?’ he ejaculated. ‘Why, what on earth can be the
reason?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Nora; ‘and what’s more, I don’t care.’
‘Ah, my lady, that sounds very much like pique,’ exclaimed her husband,
laughing; ‘but for Jack not to keep an appointment with you, I cannot
understand such a thing. I hope nothing’s the matter with him.’
‘What should be the matter, Mr Portland’s like a bad halfpenny. He’s
bound to come back again.’
‘And how did you spend your afternoon then, darling?’ asked the earl;
‘wasn’t it very stupid? How I wish you had come with us instead.’
‘_I_ don’t, Ilfracombe, for I have passed a very eventful afternoon.
There is no time to tell you of it now, but you shall hear all of it
when we find ourselves alone again. There’s the second gong; we must go
down. Now we shall hear what Mr Portland has to say for himself.’
They heard it as soon as they entered the drawing-room, where their
hosts were waiting for them.
‘Our party will be smaller than usual to-night, I am sorry to tell
you,’ said Lady Bowmant. ‘I have just had a note from Mr Portland to
say he has been called away on important business till to-morrow.
Isn’t it extraordinary? He doesn’t say where, or by whom? When did he
get the summons? That is what puzzles me. He said nothing about it
at luncheon. In fact, he settled to take a walk with you, if I am not
mistaken, Lady Ilfracombe.’
‘Yes, but he did not come,’ answered Nora.
‘I never knew old Jack to do such a thing in his life before,’ remarked
the earl, ‘he is generally so punctual in his engagements. And as for
business, why, he has no business, except pleasure. The idlest, most
unpractical man I ever knew. What _can_ the matter be? I am quite
curious to learn.’
‘Well, we must manage to do without him to-night, at all events,’
said Lady Bowmant, who appeared to be rather offended by the breach
of politeness. ‘I think Mr Portland might have given us a little more
notice, but it is really of no consequence.’
‘And he might have let my wife know he couldn’t walk with her, instead
of leaving her to cool her heels in the field waiting for him half
the afternoon. I shall have a crow to pluck with Master Jack for this
to-morrow.’
‘Oh, Ilfracombe! do you really think it is worth while?’ exclaimed
Nora. ‘I hope none of you will let him imagine that his absence was of
the slightest consequence.’
‘It becomes of consequence when he treats you with so little ceremony,’
replied the earl, as he offered his arm to his hostess to conduct her
to the dining-room.
Mr Portland’s vagaries were not mentioned again during the evening; but
when Lord Ilfracombe entered his wife’s room that night and found her
resting on the sofa in her dressing-gown, instead of fast asleep in
bed, the subject was renewed between them.
‘Why, my darling, how is this?’ he exclaimed, ‘is your book so
interesting that you cannot tear yourself away from it, or are you not
sleepy to-night?’
‘Neither,’ answered Nora, gravely. ‘I was only waiting for my husband.’
‘And now you have your husband,’ he answered playfully, as he cast
himself down beside her, ‘what is it?’
‘I want to have a little talk with you Ilfracombe,’ she said, ‘and I
don’t know how to begin.’
‘What is it all about, sweetheart?’ he asked her with a kiss. His
manner was enough to disarm any amount of fears, but it was so
confident that it made Nora still more nervous.
‘I wish you wouldn’t kiss me,’ she said, almost petulantly. ‘I am going
to tell you something about myself, that will make you very angry, and
then you will think I accepted your kisses on false pretences.’
‘I am sorry to hear you say that Nora,’ he replied; ‘but whatever you
may have done, I can assure you of my forgiveness beforehand, so you
can take my kiss as an instalment in advance.’
‘Don’t you be too sure of that,’ said his wife. ‘It is something that
happened before our marriage, and I wasn’t too good a girl then, I can
assure you. I did all sort of awful things, and I feel sure you will
wish you had never married me when you hear them.’
‘And why do you tell me of them now, my dear girl? We have been married
a year, and you have never thought of doing such a thing before.
Neither do I desire to hear anything about the past. Let it rest in
peace. You know I was not a saint myself.’
‘But you told me all about that Ilfracombe, and I was so silly, I was
too frightened to follow your example.’
‘But who dared to frighten you darling? Couldn’t you trust your
husband?’ he said tenderly. Nora snuggled up close to his side and
buried her face in his bosom as she whispered,--
‘No, because I loved you so, I was afraid of losing your love and
esteem, if you knew what a wild reckless girl I have been. Ilfracombe,
do you remember one day after we were engaged, when you asked me if I
had ever had a lover before yourself, what I replied?’
‘That you had, had so many you couldn’t count them, I believe,’ said
the earl, laughing.
‘No, no, not that, but that there had been one man to whom I was
engaged, but papa would not hear of our marriage because he had no
money.’
‘Yes! Well, what of him?’
‘It was Mr Portland,’ said Nora, with her face still hidden. But her
husband, in his astonishment, sat bolt upright and put her away.
‘Jack, oh! impossible! Nora, why did you not tell me of this before?’
‘Because, oh, I am coming to that by-and-bye. But, indeed, it is true.
He was at Malta, you may remember, just at that time, two years before
I met you, and staying with his sister Mrs Loveless. He told you he had
met me there. He was very different in appearance then from what he is
now, and I flirted and “spooned,” with him till I fancied I was head
over ears in love, and he incited me on to be far more wild than I had
ever been before. When I look back and think how young and foolish I
was, I see he behaved very badly to me.’
‘Tell me all, Nora,’ said the earl sternly.
‘I _will_ tell you all; don’t be afraid, I used to creep out of my
father’s house after dinner, and meet Mr Portland late at night,
sometimes as late as twelve o’clock, and then sneak back again when
everyone had gone to bed. We used to sit under the orange trees for
hours, talking, and all that sort of folly, you know--’
‘Oh, yes, I know,’ acquiesced the earl with a groan.
‘And one day we went out in a boat and were caught in a squall and had
to stay away till the morning. We were with people all the time in a
little inn, and papa never found out that Mr Portland was with me, but
he was!’
‘Any more pleasant stories to tell me?’ asked her husband.
‘No, that is the worst (bad enough too, isn’t it?), as far as I am
concerned, but I was foolish enough during that time to write Jack
a lot of letters. I used to write two and three times a day when I
didn’t see him, and in them I spoke very freely of all the pranks we
had played together. He wrote to me as well, of course, but when we
parted I destroyed his letters, but he kept mine.’
‘Hasn’t he given them up to you?’ demanded Ilfracombe quickly.
‘I have them now; but listen quietly to me, Ilfracombe, for a moment.
You were rather vexed with me when we first came home to Thistlemere,
because I did not welcome your bosom friend with the cordiality you
wished me to extend to him. Why, if I had had the courage to tell you
the truth, you would have kicked him out of the house. For, from the
moment we met again, whenever Mr Portland has seen my disapproval of
his influence over you in racing and gambling matters, he has held the
threat over my head, that if I tried to dissuade you from throwing your
money away, he would hand over those letters of mine, and make you hate
and despise me as much as he did.’
‘The scoundrel!’ said Ilfracombe between his teeth.
‘He has promised over and over again to restore me those letters,’
continued Nora, ‘and again and again he has broken his word. He never
meant to give them to me at all, I am convinced of that. He knew that,
as soon as I got them into my own hands, I should have the courage to
speak to you, and prove to you how unworthy he is.’
‘How did you get them at last, then, Nora?’
‘Now comes the hardest part of my confession, Ilfracombe, and I shall
never be able to make it whilst you look at me like that.’
The earl tried to smile as he replied,--
‘I am not angry with you, Nora, only utterly disgusted with Jack for
turning out such a low blackguard, and with myself for being so blind
as to believe him to be an honourable man.’
‘But you will be angry with me for this. Two nights ago he told
me that if I went over to his room at the farm I should receive my
letters--and I _went_.’
‘You visited Portland at his sleeping apartments? Oh, Nora, I thought
you had too much pride in your position as my wife--too much respect
for yourself--to do such a thing!’
‘I would not have gone for anything but those letters,’ she cried. ‘Oh,
Ilfracombe, believe me and forgive me! I never was a liar. He said they
were in his despatch-box, and I was fool enough to believe him, and
fell into the trap. And when I got there, he declared he had made a
mistake, and must have left them in town--all lies, all lies!’
‘Then how did you get them at last?’
‘He wrote me a note this morning--here it is,’ said Nora, as she
produced it from her blotting-case--‘to say he had telegraphed for
the packet, and it had arrived from town, and if I would meet him in
the meadow this afternoon I should receive them. That was the secret
of my taking a walk with him, you see, Ilfracombe. _I_ take a walk
voluntarily with the brute! I would rather be hanged, any day!’ cried
Nora impetuously.
‘But he never came, you say.’
‘No; but someone else did. Can you guess who it was? That Miss
Llewellyn from the farm. She is really your girl; she is no more
drowned than I am, and, oh, she is so sweet and nice! However did you
come to give her up for me?’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, Nora!’ said the earl. ‘I knew some days back that
Nell is still alive, but thought it just as well not to mention the
subject to you. But did she bring you your letters?’
‘Yes, she did, the dear, good girl. She was at her bedroom window,
which overlooks Portland’s, when I went there, and heard my entreaties
to him to return my letters, and his brutal, sarcastic replies; so as
soon as I was gone she confronted him, and _made_ him give them up to
her--how, she did not tell me, only he did--and she brought them to me.
Oh, I _was_ glad! I kissed her a dozen times for her kindness.’
‘But _why_ did she do it?’ demanded the earl. ‘I cannot understand her
interest in the matter, nor how she induced Portland to do what you
could not. It was like Nell; she always was resolute and plucky; but
what was the motive?’
‘Her love for you, Ilfracombe,’ replied his wife gravely, ‘and her
desire to keep your name untarnished. Oh! you have never known what was
in her noble nature, that is very clear. She is twice the woman I am,
or ever shall be. She ought to have been your wife, and she is fit for
it.’
‘Nora, Nell is a good girl, and I deeply regret the part I played in
soiling her life; but there is only one wife in the world for me, and
she is by my side. It was very good of poor Nell, very generous, very
kind, to have done what she has done for you, and we must think of
some means of repaying her. And I am glad to tell you, for her sake and
my own, that she is going to be married herself. She came to see me
this morning about some business of her father’s, and told me the news.’
‘Going to be married!’ repeated Nora, with womanly intuition. ‘Are
you _sure_?’ She did not mention such a thing to me; and she looked
so sad and spoke so sadly, she made me cry. I don’t think she can be
going to be married. And when I asked her what I could do to return her
kindness, she said,--“Love him with all your heart and soul, and never
have a secret from him again.”’
‘And do you, Nora?’ whispered Ilfracombe.
‘What?’
‘Love me with all your heart and soul.’
She turned, and threw her arms about his neck.
‘I do--I do! my darling, and never so much as at this moment. Neither
will I ever have a secret from you again. There are the letters,’ she
continued, as she drew the packet from her pocket and placed it in his
hand. ‘They were written so long ago that I don’t remember what is in
them; but whatever it may be--good, bad or indifferent--read it all,
dear, and judge me as you will. At all events, you will know the worst,
and I need not fear that I am claiming your love under false pretences
for the future.’
‘And so this is the poor little packet that has kept us apart for so
long,’ murmured the earl, as he regarded it, ‘but, thank God, has not
been powerful enough to sever us from each other’s confidence for ever.
And you give me leave to do what I will with it--to read its contents
from end to end?’
‘Yes, yes. Only be quick about it; the suspense of your decision is so
hard to bear. Perhaps, who knows, Ilfracombe, after you have seen the
folly I have written to another man, you may not wish to have anything
to do with me again.’
‘Yes, I should think that was very probable,’ remarked the earl,
with quiet amusement, as he placed the packet in the empty grate and
lighted a match under it. ‘See! Nora, that is how I read your poor
little love-letters of long ago. How amusing they are! But, confound
the things! they won’t burn. Come, that’s better. They’re blazing up
beautifully now; and I only wish I could see Mr Jack Portland blazing
up with them!’
Lady Ilfracombe looked up joyfully.
‘Oh, darling, is that true?’ she exclaimed. ‘Shall we never have our
happiness interrupted more by looking on him again?’
‘Why, rather not! What do you take me for? Do you think I would
associate with the man who has played you such a dirty trick, and
nearly upset our married happiness? No, my dearest; I value you too
much for that. Mr Portland has seen the last of any house which owns me
as master.’
‘Oh, Ilfracombe, you have made me so exquisitely happy! Oh, how I
wish poor Nell were as happy as I am. I told her we were leaving Usk
to-morrow, and promised that we would go over to the farm together
first, and wish her farewell. You will come with me, won’t you,
darling?’
‘Of course I will, since you wish it. You have behaved in a most
generous manner regarding this young woman, Nora, and I shall never
forget it. That reminds me that, according to my promise to her this
morning, I have been sounding Sir Archibald as to the chance of being
able to purchase Panty-cuckoo Farm, and I find he is quite ready to
sell it at a reasonable price. I fancy they are getting rather hard-up
on account of her ladyship’s extravagance. So I intend to close with
him, and make over the title-deeds to Nell as a wedding present. She
refused to let me make any provision for her, as I think I told you,
but this I shall insist upon.’
‘Yes, do; it was just like her, dear thing, to refuse your money.
Ilfracombe, you owe her a great deal. She was very much attached to
you. I could see that by every word she said.’
‘Hush, Nora dear, don’t allude to it now. You women are apt to grow
sentimental when you get together, talking over the same man. She cared
for me well enough--so did I for her; but you see we are both going to
be married, and live happy ever afterwards. That is the end of most
fairy tales, whether they happen in this world or the other. Kiss me,
my own darling, and tell me once more that you love me. That is the
only thing that concerns us now.’