Eveline

Chapter 9

Lord Endover was away still on his moor in the North. I was again at Chitterlings. It is true the fine air had done me good, but my residence had not been productive of unmixed advantages.

On the contrary, I suffered from a nausea for which I could only account in one way. The maids in the laundry I thought eyed me as I passed. I even caught two of them exchanging remarks which evidently concerned me. The old housekeeper took an unusual interest in my movements. I thought she looked upon me with a more patronizing smile than ever. What did it all mean? True, there was an irregularity which we were falsely taught became the mitigated inheritance of Mother Eve. The truth, I think, only very gradually dawned upon me-I own I was frightened as doubt became certainly, so that one morning I sat down at my writing table and penned these lines to the Earl:

You have so often and so pointedly asked for news-news which might very naturally be joyful to us both, and I have so often had to disappoint you that I tremble and hesitate on the present occasion lest I may raise hopes only to have the mortification of dispelling them in a subsequent letter. It will however, I know, be a source of keen satisfaction to you, my dear husband, to hear that I have the strongest possible reasons for believing that your wishes are likely to be gratified. That in fact I am in a condition, at length, to become a mother. So you see, gallant man, that you are a dangerous bedfellow. How shall I forgive you for the mischief you have wrought?

My letter brought a prompt reply. The Earl followed. The local medical attendant was consulted. It was soon an open secret that the Countess of Endover was likely-after all-to provide an heir, or at least an heiress, to the noble Earl, her husband. At first, the news was only whispered through the house. It spread to the domain. It reached the country town. It leaked out in a hundred different little undercurrents. At last it fell with a crash upon the expectant cousin and the three sisters of the Earl. They fairly groaned in vexation. Then they fell one upon another. At length all three turned round on the unhappy cousin. What might have happened I know not, but fortunately a paragraph in Society Peeps made the matter no longer a source of private inquiry. The necessity for the exercise of a dignity they really did not possess obliged them to show a bold front. They received the sarcastic congratulations of the crowd with calm. If they inwardly raged at the disappointment, they were too well-bred to let it appear.

The only one who could not be persuaded to open her lips to the outside public, or to show any particular interest in the event, was Mrs. Hodge, but she returned the warm pressure of my hand with a satisfied shake of the head, accompanied by an expression of stolid conviction which was irresistibly comic, as she whispered softly: "I knowed it, I did! Your ladyship did right to try my Jock!"

"Ah, my dear Lady Endover, I am so very glad to see you! You do me too much honor. And your excellent papa, Lord L also! Well! So you have come to hear all the interesting facts-all the truths, and I fear-between ourselves-a fair, or unfair, proportion of lies also-at Bow Street. You will both stay and take a chop with me when the court rises-a loin chop, of course! Not a chump chop. Ah! You are both so good-how jolly! So glad to see you again! Here, Williams, go off to Mrs. W at once and get six best loin chops. What! Not eat two? Well to be sure! But your unexpected visit has given me quite an extra appetite."

"Really, Sir Langham, it is deliciously refreshing to see you so sprightly and gay-it does one's heart good."

"Ah, my dear young lady-you are too kind! Pardon me-I mean Lady Endover. I don't think there is much crime on the list today. Some of the ordinary kind-a wife pounded to death-a case or two of bigamy. Ah, Lady Endover, if they were all like you, we should hear no more of bigamy. That is-well-it depends of course-on- who was first-ha, ha! I'm a sad dog! You must excuse me. Lord L- knows we were both boys once. Then there's a sad case-a young fellow charged with forgery. Then-let me see-oh-now that won't do for you. It's a nasty case, but it won't take long. My clerk tells me the evidence is very strong and I think the culprit will plead guilty. You must not be in court while that is on. I'll tell them to put it first on the list. It's a way I have sometimes just to disappoint that objectionable class of fashionables who come down here for such garbage as this."

Sir Langham Beamer drew papa a little aside-putting a fat finger in a buttonhole of his coat. Then he whispered hoarsely-so hoarsely that I heard all plainly:

"Case of indecent exposure-fellow has been at it for months. His plan was to stand at the entrance to a yard in a quiet street and then when a chance offered, he lugged out his-you know-and wagged it at any likely woman who passed."

"Did he really? How dreadful."

"Oh, we have lots of that kind of thing here. Why, only last year I had a really serious case before me and sent it for trial. It was a woman who stripped an unfortunate fellow down and then deliberately amputated his-well, his-you know-the whole bag of tricks. The man died, so there was no difficulty in the case, which went to the Assizes as murder."

"I remember that case. The wretched woman got twenty years penal servitude."

"When are we to go in, Sir Langham? I thought the court was open."

"So it is-the chief clerk is hearing the night charges; they will not interest you much. There is a case, Lady Endover, I want to dispose of, and then you shall both come and sit by me."

Just then the door of the magistrate's private room opened. A buzz of voices sounded across the corridor. A police sergeant whispered to the dear old man and Sir Langham betook himself away with a courtly apology for his absence.

A short ten minutes passed. Then we were summoned to take our seats. Just as we passed into the Police Court, a man was leaving the dock. A warden held the iron gate open for him to pass down the steps which led to the cells below. He stared vacantly into my face. All power of recognition had passed out of that blurred, besotted gaze. As I looked, my mind went back to the timber yard and the man in the cloak. It was undoubtedly he.

"A very bad case. He's one of those fellows who are old stagers at the game. He pleaded guilty and got six months-lucky for him! He'd have had two years or more if he'd been sent to the Assizes."

It was a police sergeant. He spoke to Lord L-.

While we were still in the throng, another voice whispered close to my ear:

"From all rowdy cousins, scheming hags, and wicked spinsters- good Lord deliver us!"

Almost before I could rejoin an "Amen," the voice continued, but in a tone utterly different in its respectful intonation to the strong nasal drawl in which this invocation had been whispered:

"You have saved that man eighteen months of imprisonment."

"How so? What can I have had to do with it?"

I turned. It was a tall man in a baker's fustian suit. I knew the voice-the figure. It was Dragon.

"Just this. The chief clerk advised the solicitor-the solicitor advised his client. He pleaded guilty to save the time of the Court. He enabled the magistrate to convict him instead of sending him for trial. He could certainly have had two years as a previous offender at the Old Bailey. What brings your ladyship here?"

"If you will be at D Street today at, say, six o'clock, I will tell you. I would like you to execute a confidential commission for me-for the benefit of another."

"Your ladyship honors me too much. Always at your service."

I must not allow myself to forget that these notes, written only for my own perusal and reference-which no one else will ever read or see-save him I have designated as the custodian-do not contain more than rudimentary sketches of my intimacy with many of the actors therein. I care nothing for any critic, no such will ever have access to these pages. I am equally oblivious to the opinion of the public, who only know me as what I am not.

My time came at last. All that wealth can do to minimize the agony of maternity I had in profusion. My child was born in the night. Next morning, Endover was ringing with the welcome news that there was at last a male heir to the Earldom and estates. Little Lord Chucklington-the second title had been lying dormant-lay crowing and kicking in the nurse's lap. How I took him to my bosom-how I had refused all anesthetics; how I discounted all idea of a substitute for his own mother's breast; how he thrived and waxed a big and healthy boy-all these things are matters of history now. The Earl of Endover was enraptured. I was an angel. Little Lord Chucklington was a "cupid," and the experienced nurse nearly drove my husband off his head with joy when she remarked that his infant Lordship was the "very spit of himself." Everyone followed suit-congratulations poured in. The village was illuminated that night. Bands played, drums banged, and trumpets rang out as the revelers dispersed only at a late hour, sending the faint echoes of their joy on the wings of the wind to my delighted ears in the distant castle.

Eveline had arrived at the zenith of her ambition, but at what a sacrifice! My figure-that fresh, youthful beauty which drove men mad with desire to revel in it-was gone forever. As time went on, I discovered another change-a transformation which only dawned upon me by slow degrees. What may have been its cause will ever remain a mystery-it is a fact, however, that all sexual instinct, all desire, had departed from me forever. Possibly-most probably- some derangement of nervous tissue had taken place in parturition. It must be still only a matter for conjecture. I never disclosed the fact to anyone. From that time forward I had devoted my life to my beautiful boy.

I have yet a few notes to jot down here.

Dragon has always been my true and trusty friend. He is head of a department at New Scotland Yard.

Mr. Josiah and Mrs. Hodge have emigrated to Canada. They possess a huge farm on the western prairies. They are rich in the possession of five sons, the elder of whom are the mainstay of their parents in their agricultural industry. Mr. Hodge is reported wealthy, and all they touch is said to turn to money. Once a year a letter comes-always in the constrained, illiterate handwriting of bonny Mrs. Hodge, dutifully assuring me of their happiness. This is as regularly followed by the advent of certain hams and cheese with which my household is regaled.

A certain tall and fair-haired young medical practitioner one day received a letter informing him that if he chose to make application for a valuable appointment under the Charity Commissioners he was more than likely to obtain it. He did so-he succeeded. His services justified the selection. A second stroke of good luck fell in his way. Another and even more desirable appointment followed. His keen and correct power of diagnosis was soon known and appreciated. His able treatment of his patients brought him renown.

Dr. Brooksted-Hoare did not live to obtain the Baroncy he coveted. His death left a vacancy in the ranks of those members of his profession who, as specialists, devote their talents to the treatment of the diseases of women and children. The opening was immediately taken advantage of by the same fair-haired aspirant to medical fame, Dr. A. He had found time to work for and obtain his "M.D. Lond.," and was informed in a certain mysterious manner that the lease of Dr. Brooksted-Hoare's house could be had by him for the asking at a merely nominal rent. He took the hint-also the lease. The aged Duchess of M sent for him one day. On the broad flight of stairs which led from the entrance hall, Dr. A-, as he descended, heard a visitor announced.

"The Countess of Endover. Will your ladyship please to pass this way."

A moment later a lady passed him going up. In her hand was the hand of a little boy, bright as an angel, a great favorite with her Grace. For a second, the lady's glance and that of the physician met. A civil inclination of the head, and she had gone. The doctor staggered against the wall. He seized the silken cord of the balustrade or he would have fallen. That which he divined when he reached his new home in the fashionable West had opened his eyes. He knew now, as he buried his honest, kindly face in the cushioned chair and allowed full vent to his tears of thankfulness and gratitude, who his benefactress had been and that the world was not all quite one of lust and selfishness.