O Mrs.Jethway,you do think so mistakenly!I liked him best--thats why I wanted him to do it.He was gentle and nice--I always thought him so--and I liked him.
Then why did you let him kiss you?
It is a falsehood;oh,it is,it is!said Elfride,weeping with desperation.He came behind me,and attempted to kiss me;and that was why I told him never to let me see him again.
But you did not tell your father or anybody,as you would have if you had looked upon it then as the insult you now pretend it was.
He begged me not to tell,and foolishly enough I did not.And I
wish I had now.I little expected to be scourged with my own kindness.Pray leave me,Mrs.Jethway.The girl only expostulated now.
Well,you harshly dismissed him,and he died.And before his body was cold,you took another to your heart.Then as carelessly sent him about his business,and took a third.And if you consider that nothing,Miss Swancourt,she continued,drawing closer;it led on to what was very serious indeed.Have you forgotten the would-be runaway marriage?The journey to London,and the return the next day without being married,and that theres enough disgrace in that to ruin a womans good name far less light than yours?You may have:I have not.Fickleness towards a lover is bad,but fickleness after playing the wife is wantonness.
Oh,its a wicked cruel lie!Do not say it;oh,do not!
Does your new man know of it?I think not,or he would be no man of yours!As much of the story as was known is creeping about the neighbourhood even now;but I know more than any of them,and why should I respect your love?
I defy you!cried Elfride tempestuously.Do and say all you can to ruin me;try;put your tongue at work;I invite it!I defy you as a slanderous woman!Look,there he comes.And her voice trembled greatly as she saw through the leaves the beloved form of Knight coming from the door with her hat in his hand.Tell him at once;I can bear it.
Not now,said the woman,and disappeared down the path.
The excitement of her latter words had restored colour to Elfrides cheeks;and hastily wiping her eyes,she walked farther on,so that by the time her lover had overtaken her the traces of emotion had nearly disappeared from her face.Knight put the hat upon her head,took her hand,and drew it within his arm.
It was the last day but one previous to their departure for St.
Leonards;and Knight seemed to have a purpose in being much in her company that day.They rambled along the valley.The season was that period in the autumn when the foliage alone of an ordinary plantation is rich enough in hues to exhaust the chromatic combinations of an artists palette.Most lustrous of all are the beeches,graduating from bright rusty red at the extremity of the boughs to a bright yellow at their inner parts;young oaks are still of a neutral green;Scotch firs and hollies are nearly blue;
whilst occasional dottings of other varieties give maroons and purples of every tinge.
The river--such as it was--here pursued its course amid flagstones as level as a pavement,but divided by crevices of irregular width.With the summer drought the torrent had narrowed till it was now but a thread of crystal clearness,meandering along a central channel in the rocky bed of the winter current.Knight scrambled through the bushes which at this point nearly covered the brook from sight,and leapt down upon the dry portion of the river bottom.
Elfride,I never saw such a sight!he exclaimed.The hazels overhang the rivers course in a perfect arch,and the floor is beautifully paved.The place reminds one of the passages of a cloister.Let me help you down.
He assisted her through the marginal underwood and down to the stones.They walked on together to a tiny cascade about a foot wide and high,and sat down beside it on the flags that for nine months in the year were submerged beneath a gushing bourne.From their feet trickled the attenuated thread of water which alone remained to tell the intent and reason of this leaf-covered aisle,and journeyed on in a zigzag line till lost in the shade.
Knight,leaning on his elbow,after contemplating all this,looked critically at Elfride.
Does not such a luxuriant head of hair exhaust itself and get thin as the years go on from eighteen to eight-and-twenty?he asked at length.
Oh no!she said quickly,with a visible disinclination to harbour such a thought,which came upon her with an unpleasantness whose force it would be difficult for men to understand.She added afterwards,with smouldering uneasiness,Do you really think that a great abundance of hair is more likely to get thin than a moderate quantity?
Yes,I really do.I believe--am almost sure,in fact--that if statistics could be obtained on the subject,you would find the persons with thin hair were those who had a superabundance originally,and that those who start with a moderate quantity retain it without much loss.
Elfrides troubles sat upon her face as well as in her heart.
Perhaps to a woman it is almost as dreadful to think of losing her beauty as of losing her reputation.At any rate,she looked quite as gloomy as she had looked at any minute that day.
You shouldnt be so troubled about a mere personal adornment,said Knight,with some of the severity of tone that had been customary before she had beguiled him into softness.
I think it is a womans duty to be as beautiful as she can.If I were a scholar,I would give you chapter and verse for it from one of your own Latin authors.I know there is such a passage,for papa has alluded to it.
"Munditiae,et ornatus,et cultus,"&c.--is that it?A passage in Livy which is no defence at all.
No,it is not that.
Never mind,then;for I have a reason for not taking up my old cudgels against you,Elfie.Can you guess what the reason is?
No;but I am glad to hear it,she said thankfully.For it is dreadful when you talk so.For whatever dreadful name the weakness may deserve,I must candidly own that I am terrified to think my hair may ever get thin.
Of course;a sensible woman would rather lose her wits than her beauty.
