CHAPTERLXXXVI.LORD ETHALWOOD AND HIS ADVISERS—MR. CHICKNELL MAKES A PAINFUL REVELATION.The commotion created by the marriage of John Ashbrook and Patty Jamblin had long since subsided and the bride and bridegroom returned to the old farmhouse.The usual amount of visits were paid, and the “happy pair” were suffered to settle down into their own natural unobtrusive mode of life.Meanwhile Mr. Chicknell had been very busy in the Divorce Court for the purpose of obtaining a decree nisi in the case of Gatliffe v. Gatliffe. The reader will remember that we left Aveline and Lady Marvlynn together discussing the all-important question in a previous chapter.It appeared that the earl’s grand-daughter, however, had a will of her own. She would not consent to be made a mere puppet in the hands of others, and after her interview with Lady Marvlynn she reconsidered the matter, and boldly declared that the suit should not proceed.The earl lost his temper—this was a very wrong thing for him to do, considering his years and high social position—but he displayed his anger to Lady Marvlynn, who was good enough to act as a convenient buffer to break the shock which otherwise might have been attended with much more serious consequences.“She must have taken leave of her senses, the silly, wayward girl,” he cried, in a fury. “My dear Lady Marvlynn, you must give her a good talking to. Tell her I am greatly incensed.”“I have told her so—I have talked to her, my lord,” returned her ladyship.“Well, and what said she?”“Ah, she has said enough in all conscience. I think her pride is wounded—her feelings are so easily worked upon, she is so very impressionable, so sensitive.”“All this I know perfectly well,” interrupted the earl, “have known it for a long time past, but what of it? You surely don’t mean to tell me, Lady Marvlynn, that my grand-daughter is so unjust, so unreasonable, so undutiful, as to persist in offering an impediment to what she knows and believes to be essential to my peace of mind?”Lady Marvlynn shrugged her shoulders, but made no reply. It was a way she had when in any great difficulty.“I must request you to return me an answer, madam,” said the earl, with hauteur.“I have striven—I have done my best, the very best I could, I am sure, my lord; you will acknowledge this?”“Yes, I do.”“But the poor child still clings to her husband.”“Clings to her husband!” exclaimed the earl, in a perfect fury. “I say she must be mad—positively bereft of her senses; but, enough of this, if she persists in her obstinacy—well then, the tie between us is broken. I cannot, and will not, submit to this indignity. With her my word should be law.”“And so it is, I hope.”“We’ve a pretty sample of it now. Chicknell is in despair; he can’t move a step further in the business—nay, he declares he won’t. Am I to be bearded in my own house? Am I to be set at defiance? You must see yourself, Lady Marvlynn, I have strong reason for complaining.”“I don’t deny it, my lord. Don’t be so excited, and listen calmly to me. Will you promise to do so?”“Well, yes, of course I will,” said the earl, seating himself by the side of the library table. “Proceed, madam, I am all attention.”“If my dear pet were convinced that her worthless husband was living in open adultery with a woman of doubtful repute—if she had indisputable proofs of this, then I think she would give up all thoughts of him for now and hereafter.”“But haven’t you told her?”“I have made her acquainted with as much as I thought it prudent to do.”“But she has witnessed quite enough with her own eyes. Did you not tell me that this man was at the opera with the shameless hussy with whom he has taken up?”“Really, my lord, you must pardon me for a moment. The fact of a gentleman and lady being seated side by side in the stalls of the opera-house does not in itself incriminate them. The lady might be a relative, a friend’s wife, a country cousin, or what not.”“Ah, true—there is something in that.”“Very well. As you admit my argument thus far, it is not in any way surprising that Aveline should refuse to believe her husband to be as guilty as we know him to be.”“But hang it, madam, you can tell her, I suppose?”“I can, of course; but I have not done so.”“And why not, pray?”“Ah, for many reasons. I love her as much as if she were my own child. You may believe me or not, Lord Ethalwood, but I do.”“I do believe it—but what of that?”“This: No woman ever quite forgives another for running down her husband or exposing his foibles, or his vices—if you like that term better. That is why I have not chosen to be the accuser in this case. You will acknowledge—albeit unwillingly, perhaps—that I am right.”The earl made no reply.He was silent for some time, and seemed to be much troubled.Presently he offered his hand to his companion, who shook it warmly.“I am answered, Lady Marvlynn,” said he. “You have taught me a lesson. What you have said is but a proof of your discretion—your perspicuity—your intelligence. You would have been overstepping the line which prudence and good sense draws for all of us. Questions like these are at all times difficult to deal with, and in my haste and zeal I had overlooked this fact, and I have to apologise to you for pressing you upon the point. I see now, my grand-daughter, who, to say the truth, has much of the Ethalwood in her, will not yield without good and sufficient cause.”“And I admire her for it,” cried Lady Marvlynn, with some warmth.“Youareher friend,” said the earl, musingly. “A wiser and more truthful one no woman ever had.”“I understand her better than you do.”“Without a doubt. The Ethalwoods never understood one another. This has been the bane of their happiness.”He sighed and leant his head on one hand. Then he repeated, in a solemn, melancholy tone—“The bane of their happiness.”Lady Marvlynn did not venture upon any remarks. Before her sat an honourable gentleman, across whose features a fleeting expression passed.It would be difficult to define this; it appeared to be a combination of emotions, in which sorrow, regret, and disappointment were combined.“I will bethink me,” he presently said, “as to what is best to be done in this business. As for my reasoning with her that it is not to be thought of; but doubtless I shall find some other way.”“Let either Mr. Chicknell or Mr. Wrench have an interview with her, and convey to her the unwelcome intelligence. It will come better from them than either of us two,” said Lady Marvlynn. “It matters not what they say as business men.”“You are indeed a wise counsellor,” cried the earl, tapping her on the shoulder. “Nothing could be better; the suggestion is an excellent one, which I will act upon immediately. Chicknell will be here in an hour or so, and I can arrange with him without further delay.”Lady Marvlynn, feeling that the subject of their conference was at an end, rose, made a curtsey, and left the apartment.When the lawyer arrived, which he did in the course of two or three hours after the foregoing conversation, he was made acquainted with the nature of the commission imposed upon him, to which he at once acceded.The earl went out to pay a visit to a neighbour. Mr. Chicknell sought the Lady Aveline, who consented to receive him in her own apartment.After much bowing and scraping, the astute attorney consented to bring himself to an anchorage on the soft velvet seat of a carved oak chair.After a preliminary cough, he began as follows—“This little business which the earl, your grandfather, is so anxious to get settled, is at present instatus quo, the reason being the disinclination on the part of your ladyship to act in concert with his legal advisers, and I have, therefore, my dear madam, taken upon myself the not very pleasant task of seeing you on the subject.”“I am very glad to see you at all times, Mr. Chicknell,” said Aveline. “As a friend of our house, you are welcome.”“Ah, thank you!” returned the lawyer, not very well liking her manner. “I felt assured that I should be. We cannot get on without your co-operation—indeed we cannot. Ahem! it’s no use attempting to disguise that.”He laughed as if he had said something remarkably pleasant and witty. Aveline only nodded.“It’s like driving a bent nail in an oak plank,” murmured Chicknell; “but no matter;” he then went on, addressing himself to the lady. “You see—ahem!—I have felt it a duty incumbent on me to learn your wishes with regard to the pending suit from your own lips. Am I right when I say that it was first instituted with your full consent?”“Certainly not. I never did give my consent.”“Dear me, that’s most unfortunate; but as we have proceeded thus far, I presume you won’t offer any opposition. You certainly ought not to do so.”“Indeed! I claim to be the best judge in this matter, and do not care to be made a mere puppet in the hands of others. Pray, why ought I to give my consent?”“Well, as your ladyship has put the question so plainly, I am bound to answer it. In the first place, I do not think you would be justified in opposing Earl Ethalwood’s expressed wishes, and in the next”—he paused——“And in the next,” cried Aveline.“You are quite justified in getting rid of a man who has brought such discredit on you and yours.”Aveline rose from her seat, her eyes flashing with indignation, and her whole manner was indicative of the most violent emotion.“And pray, Mr. Chicknell,” said she, “who has deputed you to make such a statement? In what way has my husband brought discredit on me and mine? I have yet to learn that he has done aught to disgrace either himself or me.”“You must pardon me, madam,” said the lawyer, in no way moved by the anger of his companion. “It is, to say the truth, no pleasant task I have undertaken; and allow me to say that if it is repugnant to you to hear the truth I will remain silent, and never again allude to a subject which is evidently most painful to you. We professional gentlemen have, at times, very unpleasant revelations to make, but I would not—nay, nothing could induce me to press a question which, possibly, you have no desire to hear.”“I do not quite understand you, sir. But you have my full permission to proceed. Pray go on.”“My dear young lady,” said Chicknell, in oleaginous accents, “you must learn the truth. Your husband is living in open adultery with a woman of more than doubtful repute. That fact is established. We have indubitable proof of it.”Aveline turned pale, trembled slightly, and sank into a chair.She made, however, no reply.“You have heard what I have said?” said the lawyer, in continuation. “Indubitable proofs! If you doubt this I will bring an officer who will convince you of the fact.”Still no reply.“Mr. Gatliffe is, at the present time, living with a lady of the name of Laura Stanbridge.”“He must be strangely altered,” said Aveline—“so altered that I find it difficult to believe that he should have so far forgotten himself.”“We are dealing with facts,” returned the lawyer; “facts which have come to our knowledge by chance or accident. Nevertheless, such facts are quite incontrovertible. We have the clearest and most unanswerable evidence of your husband’s guilty intercourse with the woman Stanbridge, and I presume my word will suffice for the purpose, without entering into all the painful details.”Aveline leaned forward, placed her elbow on the table, and, burying her face in her hands, she burst into a passionate flood of tears. Her hysterical sobs touched the heart of the lawyer, who placed his hand kindly on one of her shoulders, and standing over her, said in a sympathetic tone of voice:“My dear Lady Aveline, I cannot express to you the sorrow I feel at seeing you thus borne down. Believe me, nothing but the imperative necessity of making the revelation has induced me to be thus outspoken. I had no other alternative left, and have been constrained to enter thus fully into this business. Do, pray, try and bear up, and meet the case with becoming fortitude.”“You have said enough, Mr. Chicknell. You have convinced me. I feel hurt. My pride is wounded, but I shall not offer any opposition to the proceedings you have taken at the instigation of the earl, my grandfather. Release me as speedily as possible from this odious bondage. I desire to be disunited from a man who is so utterly unworthy of my consideration.”“Do not think that I have sought you for the purpose of maligning the man who is at the present moment your lawful husband. He is not worthy of such a distinction. I say this most emphatically—he is not worthy of even a passing thought.”“Enough, sir,” interrupted the unhappy wife. “It is hardly worth while pouring out your vials of wrath upon him. It will suffice for our purpose that you bring the suit to as speedy a termination as possible.”“It shall be done, madam, as speedily as possible. Do not let this unfortunate business cause you any anxiety. Be of good cheer, and look hopefully to the future. Remember you are surrounded by friends who are deeply concerned in your happiness and future welfare. You will, I am sure, do me the justice to believe that I have your interest at heart, and that at all times you may rely upon, not only my advice, but upon my warmest and most disinterested friendship.”“I do not doubt it, Mr. Chicknell,” said Aveline, drying her eyes. “And so you know now your course of action. Accept my best thanks.”They shook hands, and the lawyer took his departure, very well satisfied with the result of the interview.In the course of a few weeks the divorce was obtained without opposition on the part of Gatliffe, and Lord Ethalwood felicitated himself upon the fulfilment of the crowning wish of his life.
The commotion created by the marriage of John Ashbrook and Patty Jamblin had long since subsided and the bride and bridegroom returned to the old farmhouse.
The usual amount of visits were paid, and the “happy pair” were suffered to settle down into their own natural unobtrusive mode of life.
Meanwhile Mr. Chicknell had been very busy in the Divorce Court for the purpose of obtaining a decree nisi in the case of Gatliffe v. Gatliffe. The reader will remember that we left Aveline and Lady Marvlynn together discussing the all-important question in a previous chapter.
It appeared that the earl’s grand-daughter, however, had a will of her own. She would not consent to be made a mere puppet in the hands of others, and after her interview with Lady Marvlynn she reconsidered the matter, and boldly declared that the suit should not proceed.
The earl lost his temper—this was a very wrong thing for him to do, considering his years and high social position—but he displayed his anger to Lady Marvlynn, who was good enough to act as a convenient buffer to break the shock which otherwise might have been attended with much more serious consequences.
“She must have taken leave of her senses, the silly, wayward girl,” he cried, in a fury. “My dear Lady Marvlynn, you must give her a good talking to. Tell her I am greatly incensed.”
“I have told her so—I have talked to her, my lord,” returned her ladyship.
“Well, and what said she?”
“Ah, she has said enough in all conscience. I think her pride is wounded—her feelings are so easily worked upon, she is so very impressionable, so sensitive.”
“All this I know perfectly well,” interrupted the earl, “have known it for a long time past, but what of it? You surely don’t mean to tell me, Lady Marvlynn, that my grand-daughter is so unjust, so unreasonable, so undutiful, as to persist in offering an impediment to what she knows and believes to be essential to my peace of mind?”
Lady Marvlynn shrugged her shoulders, but made no reply. It was a way she had when in any great difficulty.
“I must request you to return me an answer, madam,” said the earl, with hauteur.
“I have striven—I have done my best, the very best I could, I am sure, my lord; you will acknowledge this?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But the poor child still clings to her husband.”
“Clings to her husband!” exclaimed the earl, in a perfect fury. “I say she must be mad—positively bereft of her senses; but, enough of this, if she persists in her obstinacy—well then, the tie between us is broken. I cannot, and will not, submit to this indignity. With her my word should be law.”
“And so it is, I hope.”
“We’ve a pretty sample of it now. Chicknell is in despair; he can’t move a step further in the business—nay, he declares he won’t. Am I to be bearded in my own house? Am I to be set at defiance? You must see yourself, Lady Marvlynn, I have strong reason for complaining.”
“I don’t deny it, my lord. Don’t be so excited, and listen calmly to me. Will you promise to do so?”
“Well, yes, of course I will,” said the earl, seating himself by the side of the library table. “Proceed, madam, I am all attention.”
“If my dear pet were convinced that her worthless husband was living in open adultery with a woman of doubtful repute—if she had indisputable proofs of this, then I think she would give up all thoughts of him for now and hereafter.”
“But haven’t you told her?”
“I have made her acquainted with as much as I thought it prudent to do.”
“But she has witnessed quite enough with her own eyes. Did you not tell me that this man was at the opera with the shameless hussy with whom he has taken up?”
“Really, my lord, you must pardon me for a moment. The fact of a gentleman and lady being seated side by side in the stalls of the opera-house does not in itself incriminate them. The lady might be a relative, a friend’s wife, a country cousin, or what not.”
“Ah, true—there is something in that.”
“Very well. As you admit my argument thus far, it is not in any way surprising that Aveline should refuse to believe her husband to be as guilty as we know him to be.”
“But hang it, madam, you can tell her, I suppose?”
“I can, of course; but I have not done so.”
“And why not, pray?”
“Ah, for many reasons. I love her as much as if she were my own child. You may believe me or not, Lord Ethalwood, but I do.”
“I do believe it—but what of that?”
“This: No woman ever quite forgives another for running down her husband or exposing his foibles, or his vices—if you like that term better. That is why I have not chosen to be the accuser in this case. You will acknowledge—albeit unwillingly, perhaps—that I am right.”
The earl made no reply.
He was silent for some time, and seemed to be much troubled.
Presently he offered his hand to his companion, who shook it warmly.
“I am answered, Lady Marvlynn,” said he. “You have taught me a lesson. What you have said is but a proof of your discretion—your perspicuity—your intelligence. You would have been overstepping the line which prudence and good sense draws for all of us. Questions like these are at all times difficult to deal with, and in my haste and zeal I had overlooked this fact, and I have to apologise to you for pressing you upon the point. I see now, my grand-daughter, who, to say the truth, has much of the Ethalwood in her, will not yield without good and sufficient cause.”
“And I admire her for it,” cried Lady Marvlynn, with some warmth.
“Youareher friend,” said the earl, musingly. “A wiser and more truthful one no woman ever had.”
“I understand her better than you do.”
“Without a doubt. The Ethalwoods never understood one another. This has been the bane of their happiness.”
He sighed and leant his head on one hand. Then he repeated, in a solemn, melancholy tone—
“The bane of their happiness.”
Lady Marvlynn did not venture upon any remarks. Before her sat an honourable gentleman, across whose features a fleeting expression passed.
It would be difficult to define this; it appeared to be a combination of emotions, in which sorrow, regret, and disappointment were combined.
“I will bethink me,” he presently said, “as to what is best to be done in this business. As for my reasoning with her that it is not to be thought of; but doubtless I shall find some other way.”
“Let either Mr. Chicknell or Mr. Wrench have an interview with her, and convey to her the unwelcome intelligence. It will come better from them than either of us two,” said Lady Marvlynn. “It matters not what they say as business men.”
“You are indeed a wise counsellor,” cried the earl, tapping her on the shoulder. “Nothing could be better; the suggestion is an excellent one, which I will act upon immediately. Chicknell will be here in an hour or so, and I can arrange with him without further delay.”
Lady Marvlynn, feeling that the subject of their conference was at an end, rose, made a curtsey, and left the apartment.
When the lawyer arrived, which he did in the course of two or three hours after the foregoing conversation, he was made acquainted with the nature of the commission imposed upon him, to which he at once acceded.
The earl went out to pay a visit to a neighbour. Mr. Chicknell sought the Lady Aveline, who consented to receive him in her own apartment.
After much bowing and scraping, the astute attorney consented to bring himself to an anchorage on the soft velvet seat of a carved oak chair.
After a preliminary cough, he began as follows—“This little business which the earl, your grandfather, is so anxious to get settled, is at present instatus quo, the reason being the disinclination on the part of your ladyship to act in concert with his legal advisers, and I have, therefore, my dear madam, taken upon myself the not very pleasant task of seeing you on the subject.”
“I am very glad to see you at all times, Mr. Chicknell,” said Aveline. “As a friend of our house, you are welcome.”
“Ah, thank you!” returned the lawyer, not very well liking her manner. “I felt assured that I should be. We cannot get on without your co-operation—indeed we cannot. Ahem! it’s no use attempting to disguise that.”
He laughed as if he had said something remarkably pleasant and witty. Aveline only nodded.
“It’s like driving a bent nail in an oak plank,” murmured Chicknell; “but no matter;” he then went on, addressing himself to the lady. “You see—ahem!—I have felt it a duty incumbent on me to learn your wishes with regard to the pending suit from your own lips. Am I right when I say that it was first instituted with your full consent?”
“Certainly not. I never did give my consent.”
“Dear me, that’s most unfortunate; but as we have proceeded thus far, I presume you won’t offer any opposition. You certainly ought not to do so.”
“Indeed! I claim to be the best judge in this matter, and do not care to be made a mere puppet in the hands of others. Pray, why ought I to give my consent?”
“Well, as your ladyship has put the question so plainly, I am bound to answer it. In the first place, I do not think you would be justified in opposing Earl Ethalwood’s expressed wishes, and in the next”—he paused——
“And in the next,” cried Aveline.
“You are quite justified in getting rid of a man who has brought such discredit on you and yours.”
Aveline rose from her seat, her eyes flashing with indignation, and her whole manner was indicative of the most violent emotion.
“And pray, Mr. Chicknell,” said she, “who has deputed you to make such a statement? In what way has my husband brought discredit on me and mine? I have yet to learn that he has done aught to disgrace either himself or me.”
“You must pardon me, madam,” said the lawyer, in no way moved by the anger of his companion. “It is, to say the truth, no pleasant task I have undertaken; and allow me to say that if it is repugnant to you to hear the truth I will remain silent, and never again allude to a subject which is evidently most painful to you. We professional gentlemen have, at times, very unpleasant revelations to make, but I would not—nay, nothing could induce me to press a question which, possibly, you have no desire to hear.”
“I do not quite understand you, sir. But you have my full permission to proceed. Pray go on.”
“My dear young lady,” said Chicknell, in oleaginous accents, “you must learn the truth. Your husband is living in open adultery with a woman of more than doubtful repute. That fact is established. We have indubitable proof of it.”
Aveline turned pale, trembled slightly, and sank into a chair.
She made, however, no reply.
“You have heard what I have said?” said the lawyer, in continuation. “Indubitable proofs! If you doubt this I will bring an officer who will convince you of the fact.”
Still no reply.
“Mr. Gatliffe is, at the present time, living with a lady of the name of Laura Stanbridge.”
“He must be strangely altered,” said Aveline—“so altered that I find it difficult to believe that he should have so far forgotten himself.”
“We are dealing with facts,” returned the lawyer; “facts which have come to our knowledge by chance or accident. Nevertheless, such facts are quite incontrovertible. We have the clearest and most unanswerable evidence of your husband’s guilty intercourse with the woman Stanbridge, and I presume my word will suffice for the purpose, without entering into all the painful details.”
Aveline leaned forward, placed her elbow on the table, and, burying her face in her hands, she burst into a passionate flood of tears. Her hysterical sobs touched the heart of the lawyer, who placed his hand kindly on one of her shoulders, and standing over her, said in a sympathetic tone of voice:
“My dear Lady Aveline, I cannot express to you the sorrow I feel at seeing you thus borne down. Believe me, nothing but the imperative necessity of making the revelation has induced me to be thus outspoken. I had no other alternative left, and have been constrained to enter thus fully into this business. Do, pray, try and bear up, and meet the case with becoming fortitude.”
“You have said enough, Mr. Chicknell. You have convinced me. I feel hurt. My pride is wounded, but I shall not offer any opposition to the proceedings you have taken at the instigation of the earl, my grandfather. Release me as speedily as possible from this odious bondage. I desire to be disunited from a man who is so utterly unworthy of my consideration.”
“Do not think that I have sought you for the purpose of maligning the man who is at the present moment your lawful husband. He is not worthy of such a distinction. I say this most emphatically—he is not worthy of even a passing thought.”
“Enough, sir,” interrupted the unhappy wife. “It is hardly worth while pouring out your vials of wrath upon him. It will suffice for our purpose that you bring the suit to as speedy a termination as possible.”
“It shall be done, madam, as speedily as possible. Do not let this unfortunate business cause you any anxiety. Be of good cheer, and look hopefully to the future. Remember you are surrounded by friends who are deeply concerned in your happiness and future welfare. You will, I am sure, do me the justice to believe that I have your interest at heart, and that at all times you may rely upon, not only my advice, but upon my warmest and most disinterested friendship.”
“I do not doubt it, Mr. Chicknell,” said Aveline, drying her eyes. “And so you know now your course of action. Accept my best thanks.”
They shook hands, and the lawyer took his departure, very well satisfied with the result of the interview.
In the course of a few weeks the divorce was obtained without opposition on the part of Gatliffe, and Lord Ethalwood felicitated himself upon the fulfilment of the crowning wish of his life.