 Chapter 28 of Aurora Floyd This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Hannah Reimer Aurora Floyd by Mary Elizabeth Bratton Chapter 28 Aurora's Flight Mrs. Malish sat in her husband's room on the morning of the inquest among the guns and fishing rods, the riding boots and hunting whips, and all the paraphernalia of a sportsmanship. She sat in a capacious, wicker work armchair close to the open window, with her head lying back upon the chintz-covered cushions and her eyes wandering far away across the lawn and flowerbeds toward the winding pathway by which it was likely John Malish would return from the inquest at the Golden Lion. She'd openly defied Mrs. Powell, and had locked the door of this quiet chamber upon the lady's stereotyped facilities and sympathetic simperings. She'd locked the door upon the outer world, and she sat alone in the pleasant window, full-blown roses showering their scented petals upon her lap with every breath of the summer breeze and the butterflies hovering about her. The old mastiff sat by her side, with his heavy head lying on her lap, and his big, dim eyes lifted to her face. She sat alone, I have said, but heaven knows she was not companionless. Black care and corroding anxiety kept her faithful company, and would not budge from her side. What companions are so adhesive as trouble and sorrow, what associates so tenacious, what friends so watchful and untiring. This wretched girl stood alone in the centre of a sea of troubles, fearful to stretch out her hands to those who loved her, lest she should drag them into that ocean which was rising to overwhelm her. Oh, if I could suffer alone, she thought, if I could suffer all this misery alone, I think I would go through it to the last without complaining. But the shame, the degradation, the anguish will come upon others more heavily than upon me. What will they not suffer? What will they not endure if the wicked madness of my youth should become known to the world? Those others of whose possible grief and shame she thought with such cruel torture were her father and John Melish. Her love for her husband had not lessened by one iota, her love for that indulgent father on whom the folly of her girlhood had brought such bitter suffering. Her generous heart was wide enough for both. She had acknowledged no divided duty, and would have repudiated any encroachment of the new affection upon the old. The great river of her love widened into an ocean and embraced a new shore with its mighty tide. But that far away source of childhood from which affection first sprang in its soft, infantile purity still gushed in crystal beauty from its unsullied spring, she would perhaps scarcely have recognized the coldly measured affection of Mad Lear's youngest daughter, the affection which could divide itself with mathematical precision between father and husband. Surely love is too pure a sentiment to be so weighed in the balance. Must we subtract something from the original sum when we are called upon to meet a new demand? Or has not affection rather some magic power by which it can double its capital at any moment when there is a run upon the bank? When Mrs. John Anderson becomes the mother of six children, she does not say to her husband, My dear John, I should be compelled to rub you of six tenths of my affection in order to provide for the little ones. No, the generous heart of the wife grows larger to meet the claims upon the mother, as the girl's heart expanded with the new affections of the wife. Every pang of grief which Aurora felt for her husband's misery was doubled by the image of her father's sorrow. She could not divide these two in her own mind. She loved them and was sorry for them with an equal measure of love and sorrow. If the truth should be discovered at this inquest, she thought, I never can see my husband again. I can never look in his face anymore. I will run away to the end of the world and hide myself from him forever. She had tried to capitulate with her fate. She had endeavored to escape the full measure of retribution and she had failed. She had done evil that good might come of it in the face of that command which says that all such evil doing shall be wasted sin, useless iniquity. She had deceived John Malish in the hope that the veil of deception might never be rent entwined, that the truth might be undiscovered to the end and the man she loved spared from cruel shame and grief. But the fruits of that foolish seed sown long ago in the day of her disobedience had grown up around her and hedged Turian upon every side and she'd been powerless to cut a pathway for herself through the noxious weeds that her own hands had planted. She sat with her watch in her hand and her eyes wandered every now and then from the gardens before her to the figures on the dial. John Malish had left the house at a little after nine o'clock and it was now nearly two. He had told her that the inquest would be over in a couple of hours and that he would hurry home directly it was finished and tell her the result. What would be the result of that inquest? What inquires might be made? What evidence might, by some unhappy accident, be produced to compromise or to betray her? She sat in a dull stupor waiting to receive her sentence. What would it be? Condemnation or release? If her secret should escape detection. If James Conyers should be allowed to carry the story of his brief married life to the grave, what relief? What release for the wretched girl whose worst sin had been to mistake a bad man for a good one? The ignorant trustfulness of a child who's ready to accept any shabby pilgrim for an exiled nobleman or prince in disguise. It was half past two when she was startled by the sound of a shambling footstep upon the graveled pathway underneath the veranda. The footstep slowly shuffled on for a few paces, then paused, then shuffled on again and at last a face that she hated made itself visible at the angle of the window opposite to that against which she sat. It was the white face of the softy, which was poked cautiously forward a few inches within the window frame. The mastiff sprang up with a growl and made as if he would have flown at that ugly leering face, which looked like one of the hideous decorations of a gothic building, but Aurora caught the animal's collar with both her hands and dragged him back. Be quiet, Bow Wow. She said, quiet, boy, quiet. She still held him with one firm hand, soothing him with the other. What do you want? She asked, turning upon the softy with a cold, icy, grand-jerb disdain, which made her look like Nero's wife defying her false accusers. What do you want with me? Your master is dead and you have no longer an excuse for coming here. You have been forbidden the house and the grounds. If you forget this another time, I shall request Mr. Mellish to remind you. She lifted her disengaged hand and laid it upon the window sash. She was going to close the window when Stephen Hargrave stopped her. Don't be in such a hurry. He said, I won't speak to you. I have come straight from inquest. I thought you might want to know all about it. Speak about friendliness, though you did pay into me with the old whip. Aurora's heart beat tempestuously against her aching breath. Ah, what hard duty that poor heart had done lately. What icy burdens it had borne. What horrible oppression of secrecy and terror had weighed upon it, crushing out all hope and peace. An agony of suspense and dread convulsed that tortured heart as the softy tempted her. She tempted her to ask him the issue of the inquest that she might receive from his lips the sentence of life or death. She little knew how much of her secret this man had discovered, but she knew that he hated her and that he suspected enough to know his power of torturing her. She lifted her proud head and looked at him with a steady glance of defiance. I have told you that your presence is disagreeable, she said. Stand aside and let me shut the window. The softy grinned insolently and holding the window frame with one of his broad hands put his head into the room. Aurora rose to leave the window, but he laid the other hand upon a wrist which shrunk instinctively from contact with his hard horny palm. I tell you I've got some particular to say to you, he whispered. You shall hear all about it. I was one of witnesses at inquest and I've been hanging about ever since and I know everything. Aurora flung her head back disdainfully and tried to wrench her wrist from that strong grasp. Let me go, she said. You shall suffer for this insolence when Mr. Melish returns. But he won't be back just yet awhile, said the softy grinning. He's gone back to the golden lion. Korna and Mr. Lofthouse pass and sent for him to tell him, Sumit. Sumit about you, his steven heartgraves with his dry white lips close to Aurora's ear. What do you mean? cried Mrs. Melish, still writhing in the softy's grasp, still restraining her dog from flying at him with her disengaged hand. What do you mean? I mean what I say, answered Steve Hargraves. I mean that it's all found out. They know everything and they've sent for Mr. Melish to tell him. They've sent for him to tell him what you was to him that's dead. A low wail broke from Aurora's lips. She expected to hear this perhaps. She had at any rate dreaded it. She had only fought against receiving the tidings from this man, but he had conquered her. He had conquered her as the dogged, obstinate nature, however base will always conquer the generous and impulsive soul. He had secured his revenge and had contrived to be the witness of her agony. He released her wrist as he finished speaking and looked at her, looked at her with an insolently triumphant leer in his small eyes. She drew herself up proudly still, proudly and bravely in spite of all, but with her face changed, changed from its former expression of restless pain to the dull blankness of despair. They found certificate, said the softy. Ate Gary did about with him, stood up in his waistcoat. The certificate? Heaven have pity upon her girlish ignorance. She had never thought of that. She had never remembered that miserable scrap of paper which was the legal evidence of her folly. She had dreaded the presence of that husband who had arisen as if from the grave to pursue and torment her, but she had forgotten that other evidence of the parish register which might also arise against her at any moment. She had feared the finding of something, some letter, some picture, some accidental record among the possessions of the murdered man, but she had never thought of this most conclusive evidence, this most incontrovertible proof. She put her hand to her head, trying to realize the full horror of her position. The certificate of her marriage with her father's groom was in the hands of John Mellish. What will he think of me? She thought. How would he ever believe me if I were to tell him that I received what I thought positive evidence of James Conyer's death a year before my second marriage? How could he believe in me? I have deceived him too cruelly to dare to ask his confidence. She looked about, trying to collect herself, trying to decide upon what she ought to do, and in her bewilderment and agony forgot for a moment the greedy eyes that were gloating upon her misery. But she remembered herself presently, and, turning sternly upon Stephen Hargraves, spoke to him with a voice which was singularly clear and steady. You have told me all that you have to tell, she said. Be so good as to get out of the way while I shut the window. The softie drew back and allowed her to close the sashes. She bolted the window and drew down the Venetian blind, affectionately shutting out her spy, who crept her ways slowly and reluctantly toward the shrubbery through which she could make his way safely out of the grounds. I've paid her out, muttered as he shambled off under the shelter of the young trees. I've paid her out pretty tidy. It's almost better than money, he said, laughing silently. It's almost better than money to pay off them kind of debt. Aurora seated herself at John Mallish's desk and wrote a few hurried lines upon a sheet of paper that lay uppermost among letters and bills. My dear love, she wrote, I cannot remain here to see you after the discovery which has been made today. I'm a miserable coward, and I cannot meet your altered looks. I cannot hear your altered voice. I have no hope that you can have any other feeling for me than contempt and loathing. But on some future day, when I am far away from you and the bewilderment of my present misery has grown less, I will write and explain everything. Think of me mercifully if you can, and if you can believe that in the wicked concealment of the last few weeks, the mainspring of my conduct has been my love for you. You will only believe the truth. God bless you, my best and truest. The pain of leaving you forever is less than the pain of knowing that you have ceased to love me. Goodbye. She led at a taper and sealed the envelope which contained this letter. The spies who hate and watch me shall not read this, she thought as she wrote John's name upon the envelope. She left the letter upon the desk, and rising from her seat, looked around the room, looked with a long lingering gaze that dwelt on each familiar object. How happy she had been among all that masculine litter. How happy with the man she had believed to be her husband. How innocently happy before the coming down of that horrible storm cloud which had overwhelmed them both. She turned away with a shudder. I have brought disgrace and misery upon all who have loved me, she thought. If I had been less cowardly, if I had told the truth, all this might have been avoided if I had confessed the truth to Talbot Bulstrode. She parsed the mention of that name. I will go to Talbot, she thought. He is a good man. I will go to him. I shall have no shame now in telling him all. He will advise me what to do. He will break this discovery to my poor father. Aurora had dimly foreseen this misery when she had spoken to Lucy Bulstrode at Felden. She had dimly foreseen a day in which all would be discovered, and she would fly to Lucy to ask for a shelter. She looked at her watch. A quarter past three, she said. There is an express that leaves Duncastre at five. I could walk the distance in the time. She unlocked the door and ran upstairs to her own rooms. There was no one in the dressing room, but her maid was in the bedroom, arranging some dresses and a huge wardrobe. Aurora selected her plain esponite and a large grey cloak, and quietly put them on before the cheval glass in one of the pretty French windows. The maid, busy with her own work, did not take any particular notice of her mistress's actions, for Mrs. Melish was accustomed to wait upon herself and disliked any officious attention. How pretty the rooms look, Aurora thought with a weary sigh. How simple and contrified. It was for me that the new furniture was chosen, for me that the bathroom and conservatory were built. She looked through the vista of brightly carpeted rooms. Would they ever seem as cheerful as they had once done to their master? Would he still occupy them, or would he lock the doors and turn his back upon the old house in which he had lived such an untroubled life for nearly two and thirty years? My poor boy, my poor boy, she thought, why was I ever born to bring such sorrow upon him? There was no egotism in her sorrow for his grief. She knew that he had loved her, and she knew that this parting would be the bitterest agony of his life. But in the depth of mortification which her own womanly pride had undergone, she could not look beyond the present shame of the discovery made that day to a future of happiness and release. He will believe that I never loved him, she thought. He will believe that he was the dupe of a designing woman who wished to regain the position she had lost. What will he not think of me that is base and horrible? The face which she saw on the glass was very pale and rigid, the large dark eyes dry and lustrous, the lips drawn tightly down over the white teeth. I looked like a woman who could cut her throat in such a crisis as this, she said. How often I have wondered at the desperate deeds done by women? I shall never wonder again. She unlocked her dressing case and took a couple of banknotes and some loose gold from one of the drawers. She put these in her purse, gathered her cloak about her, and walked toward the door. She paused on the threshold to speak to her maid, who was still busy in the inner room. I'm going into the garden, Parsons, she said. Tell Mr. Mellish that there is a letter for him in his study. The room in which John kept his boots and racing accounts was called a study by the respectful household. The dog Bow Wow lifted himself lazily from his tiger skin rug as he roared across the hall and came sniffing about her and endeavored to follow her out of the house. But she ordered him back to his rug and the submissive animal obeyed her as he had often done in his youth when his young mistress used to throw her doll into the water at Felden and send the faithful mastiff to rescue that fair-haired waxon favorite. He obeyed her now, but a little reluctantly, and he watched her suspiciously as she descended the flight of steps before the door. She walked at a rapid pace across the lawn and into the shrubbery, going steadily southward, though by that means she made her journey longer for the North Lodge lay toward Duncaster. In her way through the shrubbery she met two people who walked closely side by side engrossed in a whispering conversation and who both started and chained countenance at seeing her. These two people were the softie and Mrs. Powell. So, she thought, as she passed the strangely matched pair, my two enemies are laying their heads together to put my misery. It is time that I left Melish Park. She went out of a little gate leading into some meadows. Beyond these meadows there was a long shady lane that led behind the house to Duncaster. It was a path rarely chosen by any of the household at the park as it was the longest way into the town. Melish stopped at about a mile from the house which had been her own and looked back at the picturesque pile of building, half-hidden and a luxuriant growth of a couple of centuries. Goodbye, dear home, in which I was an impostor and a cheat, she said. Goodbye forever and forever, my own dear love. While Aurora uttered these few words of a passionate farewell, John Melish lay upon the sun-burnt grass, bearing absently at the still-water pools under the grey sky, pitying her, praying for her, and forgiving her from the depth of his honest heart. End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 of Aurora Floyd This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Hannah Reimer Aurora Floyd by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Chapter 29 John Melish finds his home desolate. The sun was low in the western sky, and distant village clocks had struck seven when John Melish walked slowly away from that lonely waste of stunted grass called Harper's Common and strolled homeward in the peaceful evening. The Yorkshire Squire was still very pale. He walked with his head bent forward upon his breast, and the hand that grasped the crumpled paper thrust into the bosom of his waistcoat, but a hopeful light shone in his eyes, and the rigid lines of his mouth had relaxed into a tender smile, a smile of love and forgiveness. Yes, he had prayed for her and forgiven her, and he was at peace. He had pleaded her cause a hundred times in the dull quiet of that summer's afternoon, and had excused her and forgiven her. Not lightly, heaven is a witness, not without a sharp and cruel struggle that had rent his heart with tortures undreamed of before. This revelation of the past was such bitter shame to him, such horrible degradation, such irrevocable infamy, his love, his idol, his empress, his goddess. It was of her, he thought, by what hellish witchcraft had she been ensnared into the degrading alliance recorded in this miserable scrap of paper. The pride of five unsullied centuries arose, fierce and ungovernable, in the breast of the country gentlemen, to resent the outrage upon the woman he loved. Oh God, had all his glorification of her been the vain boasting of a fool who had not known what he talked about? He was answerable to the world for the past as well as for the present. He had made an altar for his idol, and had cried aloud to all who came near her to kneel down and perform their worship at her shrine, and he was answerable to these people for the purity of their divinity. He could not think of her as less than the idol which his love had made her, perfect, unsullied, unassailable. This grace where she was concerned knew in his mind no degrees. It was not his own humiliation he thought of when his face grew hot as he imagined the talk there would be in the county if this fatal indiscretion of Aurora's youth ever became generally known. It was the thought of her shame that stung him to the heart. He never once disturbed himself with any provision of the ridicule which was likely to fall upon him. It was here that John Melish and Talbot Volstrode were so widely different in their manner of loving and suffering. Talbot had sought a wife who should reflect honor upon himself and had fallen away from Aurora at the first trial of his faith, shaken with horrible apprehensions of his own danger. But John Melish had submerged his very identity into that of the woman he loved. She was his faith and his worship, and it was for her glory that he wept in this cruel day of shame. The wrong which he found so hard to forgive was not her wrong against him, but that other and more fatal wrong against herself. I have said that his affection was universal, and partook of all the highest attributes of that sublime self-abnegation which we call love. The agony which she felt today was the agony which Archibald Floyd had suffered years before. It was vicarious torture, endured for Aurora, and not for himself. And in his struggle against that sorrowful anger which he felt for her folly, every one of her perfections took up arms upon the side of his indignation and fought against their own mistress. Had she been less beautiful, less queenly, less generous, great, and noble, he might have forgiven her that self-inflicted shame more easily. But she was so perfect. And how could she? How could she? He unfolded the wretched paper half a dozen times, and read and reread every word of that commonplace legal document before he could convince himself that it was not some vile forgery concocted by James Conyers for purposes of extortion. But he prayed for her and forgave her. He pitied her with more than a mother's tender pity, with more than a sorrowful father's anguish. My poor dear, he said. My poor dear. She was only a schoolgirl when this certificate was first written, ready to believe any lies told her by a villain. A dark frown obscured the Yorkshireman's brow as he thought this, a frown that would have promised no good to Mr. James Conyers, had not the trainer pass out of the reach of all earthly good and evil. Will God have mercy upon a wretch like that, thought John Mellish? Will that man be forgiven for having brought disgrace and misery upon a trusting girl? It will perhaps be wondered that John Mellish, who suffered his servants to rule in his household, and allowed his butler to dictate to him what wines he should drink, who talked freely to his grooms and bade his trainer sit in his presence. It will be wondered at, perhaps, that this frank, free-spoken, simple-mannered young man should have felt so bitterly the shame of Aurora's unequal marriage. It was a common saying in Duncaster that Squire Mellish of the park had no pride, that he would clap poor folks on the shoulder and give them good day as he lounged in the quiet street, that he would sit upon the corn chandler's counter, rushing his hunting whip upon those popular tops, about which a legend was current, to the effect that they were always clean with champagne, and discussing the prospects of the September meeting, and that there was not within the three writings a better landlord or a nobler-hearted gentleman. And all this was perfectly true. John Mellish was entirely without personal pride, but there was another pride, which was wholly inseparable from his education and position. And this was the pride of Cast. He was strictly conservative, and although he was ready to talk to his good friend the Saddler, or his trusted retainer the Groom, as freely as he would have held converse with his equals, he would have opposed all the strength of his authority against the Saddler had that honest tradesman attempt to stand for his native town, and would have annihilated the Groom with one angry flash of his bright blue eyes had the servant infringed by so much as an inch upon the broad extent of territory that separated him from his master. The struggle was finished before John Mellish arose from the brown turf and turned toward the home which he had left early that morning, ignorant of the great trouble that was to fall upon him, and only dimly conscious of some dark foreboding of the coming of an unknown horror. The struggle was over, and there was now only hope in his heart, the hope of clasping his wife to his breast and comforting her for all the past. However bitterly he might feel the humiliation of this madness of her ignorant girlhood. It was not for him to remind her of it. His duty was to confront the world slander or the world ridicule and oppose his own breast to the storm while she was shielded by the great shelter of his love. His heart yearned for some peaceful foreign land in which his idol would be far away from all who could tell her secret and where she might reign once more glorious and unapproachable. He was ready to impose any cheat upon the world in his greediness of praise and worship for her. For her. How tenderly he thought of her, walking slowly homeward in that tranquil evening, he thought of her waiting to hear from him the issue of the inquest, and he approached himself for his neglect when he remembered how long he had been absent. But my darling was scarcely beyond easy. He thought, and while he are all about the inquest of one or other, and she will think that I have gone to Duncastre on business, she will know nothing of the finding of this detestable certificate. No one need know of it. Mofftows and Hayward are honourable men, and they will keep my poor girl's secret. They will keep the secret of a foolish youth, my poor, poor girl. He longed for that moment which he fancied so near, the moment in which he should fold her in his arms and say, My dearest one, be at peace. There is no longer any secret between us, henceforth your sorrows and my sorrows, and it is hard if I cannot help you to carry the Lord lightly. We are one, my dear, for the first time since our wedding day. We are truly united. He expected to find Aurora in his room, for she had declared her intention of sitting there all day, and he ran across the broad lawn to the rose-shattered veranda in his favourite retreat. The blind was drawn down, and the window bolted, as Aurora had bolted it in her wish to exclude Mr. Stephen Hargraves. He knocked at the window, but there was no answer. Lole has grown tired of waiting, he thought. The second dinner bell rang in the hall while Mr. Melish lingered outside the darkened window. The commonplace sound reminded him of his social duties. I must wait till dinner is over, I suppose, before I talk to my darling, he thought, and must go through all the usual business with the edification of Mrs. Powell and the servants before I can take my darling to my breast and set her mind at ease forever. John Melish submitted himself to the indisputable force of those ceremonial laws which we have made our masters, and he was prepared to eat a dinner for which he had no appetite and wait two hours for that moment for whose coming his soul yearned rather than provoke Mrs. Powell's curiosity for the deviation from the common course of events. The windows of the drawing room were open and he saw the glimmer of a pale muslin dress at one of them. It belonged to Mrs. Powell, who was sitting in a contemplative attitude gazing at the evening sky. She was not thinking of that western glory of pale crimson and shining gold. She was thinking that if John Melish cast off the wife who had deceived him and who had never legally been his wife, Yorkshire mansion would be a fine place to live in, a fine place for a housekeeper who knew how to obtain influence over her master, who had the secret of his married life and of his wife's disgrace to help her on to power. He's such a blind, besotted fool about her, thought the Ensign's widow, that if he breaks with her tomorrow he'll go on loving her just the same and he'll do anything to keep her secret. Let it work which way it will. They're in my power. They're both in my power and I'm no longer a pole dependent to be sent away at a cultist's notice when it pleases them to be tired of me. The bread of dependence is not a pleasant diet, but there are many ways of eating the same food. Mrs. Powell's habit was to receive all favors grudgingly, as she would have given, had it been her lot to give instead of to receive. She measured others by her own narrow gauge and was powerless to comprehend or believe in the frank impulses of nature. She knew that she was a useless member of poor John's household and that the young squire could have easily dispensed with her presence. She knew in short that she was retained by reason of Aurora's pity for her friendlessness and having neither gratitude nor kindly feelings to give in return for her comfortable shelter. She resented her own poverty of nature and hated her entertainers for their generosity. It is a property of these narrow natures so to resent the attributes but cannot even understand. And Mrs. Powell had been far more at ease in households in which she had been treated as a ladylike drudge than she had ever been at Malish Park where she was received as an equal and a guest. She had eaten the bitter bread upon which she had lived so long in a bitter spirit that her whole nature had turned to gall from the influence of that disagreeable diet. A moderately generous person can bestow a favor and bestow it well, but to receive a boon with perfect grace requires a far nobler and more generous nature. John Malish approached the open window at which the incense widow was seated and looked into the room. Aurora was not there. The long saloon seemed empty and desolate. The decorations of the temple looked cold and dreary but the deity was absent. No one here! exclaimed Mr. Malish disconsolately. No one me! murmured Mrs. Powell with an accent of mild deprecation but where is my wife, ma'am? He said those two small words my wife with such a tone of resolute defiance that Mrs. Powell looked at him as he spoke and thought he has seen the certificate where is Aurora? repeated John I believe that Mrs. Malish has gone out. gone out? where? you forget sir the incense widow reproachfully you appear to forget your special request that I should abstain from all supervision of Mrs. Malish's arrangements prior to that request which I may venture to suggest was unnecessarily emphatic I had certainly considered myself as the humble individual chosen by Ms. Floyd's aunt and invested by her with a species of authority over the young lady's actions in some manner responsible for John Malish chafed horribly under a merciless stream of long words which Mrs. Powell poured upon his head talk about that another time for Evan's sake, ma'am he said impatiently I only want to know where my wife is two words would tell me that I suppose I'm sorry to say that I'm unable to afford you any information upon that subject answered Mrs. Powell Mrs. Malish quitted the house at about half past three o'clock I have not seen her since Heaven forgive Aurora for the trouble it had been her lot to bring upon those who best loved her John's heart grew sick with the terror this first failure of his hope he had pictured her waiting to receive him ready to fall upon his breast an answer to his passionate cry Aurora come, come dear love the secret has been discovered and is forgiven somebody knows where my wife has gone I suppose Mrs. Powell he said fiercely turning upon the ensense widow in his wrathful sense of disappointment and alarm he was only a big child after all with a child's alternate hopefulness and despair with a child's passionate devotion for those he loved and ignorant terror of danger of those beloved ones Mrs. Malish may have made a confidant of Parsons replied the ensense widow but she certainly did not enlighten me as to her intended movements shall I ring the bell for Parsons if you please John Malish stood upon the threshold of the French window not caring to enter the handsome chamber of which she was the master why should he go into the house it was no home for him without the woman who had made it so dear and sacred dear even in the darkest hour of sorrow and anxiety sacred even in despite of the trouble his love had brought upon him the made Parsons appeared an answer to a message sent by Mrs. Powell and John strode into the room and interrogated her sharply as to the departure of her mistress the girl could tell very little except that Mrs. Malish had said she was going into the garden and that she had left a letter in the study for the master of the house perhaps Mrs. Powell was even better aware of the existence of this letter than the Abigail herself she had crept stealthily into John's room after her interview with the softy and a chance encounter with Aurora she had found the letter lying on the table sealed with a crest and monogram that were engraved upon a bloodstone worn by Mrs. Malish among the trinkets on her watch chain it was not possible therefore to manipulate the letter with any safety and Mrs. Powell had contented herself by guessing darkly at its contents the softy had told her of the fatal discovery of the morning and she instinctively comprehended the meaning of that sealed letter it was a letter of explanation and farewell perhaps only of farewell John strode along the corridor that led to his favorite room the chamber was dimly lighted by the yellow evening sunlight which streamed from between the Venetian blinds and drew golden bars upon the matted floor but even in the dusky and uncertain light he saw the white patch upon the table and sprang with tigerish haste upon the letter his wife had left for him and stood in the embrasure of the window with the evening sunlight upon his face reading Aurora's letter there was neither anger nor alarm nor evil in his face as he read only supreme love and supreme compassion my poor darling my poor girl how could she think that there could ever be such a word as goodbye between us does she think so lightly of my love as to believe that it could fail her now when she wants it most why if that man had lived he thought his face darkening with the memory of that unburied clay which yet lay in the still chamber at the north lodge if that man had lived and had claimed her and carried her away from me by the right of the paper in my breast I would have clung to her still I would have followed wherever he went and would have lived near him that she might have known where to look for a defender from every wrong I would have been his servant the willing servant and contented hangarone of a bore if I could have served her by enduring his insolence so my dear, my dear with a tender smile it was worse than foolish to write this letter to me and even more useless than it was cruel to run away from the man who would follow you to the farthest end of this wide world he put the letter into his pocket and took his hat from the table he was ready to start he scarcely knew for what destination with the end of the world perhaps in his search for the woman he loved but he was going to Feldenwoods before beginning the longer journey to her father in her foolish terror to think that anything could ever happen to change her lesson my love for her he said, foolish girl foolish girl he ranked for his servant and ordered the hasty packing of his smallest portmanteau he was going to town for a day or two and he was going alone he looked at his watch it was only a quarter after eight and the male left uncastered half past twelve there was plenty of time therefore a great deal too much time for the feverish impatience of Mr. Melish who would have charted a special engine to convey him had the railway officials been willing there were four long hours during which he must wait wearing out his heart and his anxiety to follow the woman he loved to take her to his breast and comfort and shelter her tell her that true love knows neither decrease nor change he ordered the dog cart to be ready for him at eleven o'clock there was a slow train that left uncastered ten but as it reached London only ten minutes it was a male it was scarcely desirable as a conveyance yet after the hour had passed for his starting Mr. Melish reproached himself bitterly for that lost ten minutes and was tormented by a fancy that through the loss of those very ten minutes he should miss the chance of an immediate meeting with Aurora it was nine o'clock before he remembered the necessity of making some pretense of sitting down to dinner he took his place at the end of the long table and sent for Mrs. Powell who appeared in answer to his summons and proceeded herself with a well-bred affectation of not knowing that the dinner had been put off for an hour and a half I'm sorry I've kept you so long Mrs. Powell he said as he sent the ensign's widow a ladle full of clear soup that was of the temperature of lemonade the truth is that I I find a shall be compelled to run up to town by the mail upon no unpleasant business I hope oh dear no not at all to her father's place and has requested me to follow her added John telling a lie with considerable awkwardness but with no very great remorse he did not speak again during dinner he ate anything that his servants put before him and took a good deal of wine but he ate and drank alike unconsciously and when the cloth had been removed and he was left alone with Mrs. Powell he sat staring at the reflection of the wax candles in the depths of the mahogany and the lady gave a little ceremonial cough and rose with the intention of simpering out of the room that he roused himself with his long reverie and looked up suddenly don't go just this moment if you please Mrs. Powell he said you'll sit down again for a few minutes I shall be glad I wish to say a word or two to you before I leave Mellish he rose as he spoke and pointed to a chair Mrs. Powell seated herself and looked at him earnestly and a nervous movement of her thin lips when you came here Mrs. Powell said John gravely you came as my wife's guest and as my wife's friend I need scarcely say that you could have no better claim upon my friendship and hospitality if you had brought a regiment of dragons with you as the condition of your visit they would have been welcomed for I believe that your coming would give pleasure to my poor girl if my wife had been indebted to you for any word of kindness for any look or affection I would have repaid that debt a thousand fold had it lain in my power to do so by any service however difficult you would have lost nothing by your love for my poor motherless girl and if any devotion of mine could have recompensed you for that tenderness it was only reasonable that I should look to you as the natural friend and counsellor of my darling and I did so honestly and confidently forgive me if I tell you that I very soon discovered how much I had been mistaken in entertaining such a hope I soon saw that you were no friend to my wife Mr. Melish oh my dear madam you think because I keep hunting boots and guns in the room I call my study and because I remember no more of the Latin that my tutor crammed into my head in the first line of the syntax you think because I'm not clever that I must need to be a fool that's your mistake Mrs. Powell I'm not clever enough to be a fool and I've just sufficient perception to see any danger that assails those I love you don't like my wife you grudger her youth and her beauty and my foolish love for her and you've watched and listened and plotted in a ladylike way of course to do her some evil forgive me if I speak plainly wherever order is concerned I feel very strongly to hurt her little finger is to torture my whole body to stab her once is to stab me a hundred times I have no wish to be discursive to a lady I'm only sorry that you have been unable to love a poor girl who has rarely failed to win friends among those who have known her let us part without animosity but let us understand each other for the first time you do not like us and it's better that we should part before you learn to hate us the Ensign's widow waited in utter stupification until Mr. Melish stopped from want of breath perhaps rather than from want of words all her viperish nature rose in white defiance of him as he walked up and down the room chafing himself into a fury with his recollection of the wrong she had done him in not loving his wife you are perhaps aware Mr. Melish as she said after an awful pause but under such circumstances the annual stipend due to me for my services cannot be expected to cease at your Caprice and that although you may turn me out of doors Mrs. Powell descended to this very common place location and stooped to the vernacular in her desire to be spiteful you must understand that you will be liable for my salary until the expiration of oh pray do not imagine that I shall repudiate any claim you may make upon me Mrs. Powell said John eagerly heaven knows it has been no pleasure to me to speak as plainly as I have spoken tonight I will write a check for any amount that you may consider proper compensation for this change in our arrangements I might have been more polite perhaps I might have told you that my wife and I think of traveling on the continent and that we are therefore breaking up our household I have preferred telling you the plain truth forgive me if I have wounded you Mrs. Powell rose pale menacing terrible terrible in the intensity of her feeble wrath and in the consciousness that she had power to stab the heart of the man who had affronted her you have merely anticipated my own intention Mr. Millish she said I could not possibly have remained a member of your household after the very unpleasant circumstances that have lately transpired my worst wish is that you may find yourself involved in no greater trouble through your connection with Mr. Floyd's daughter let me add one word of warning before I have the honour of wishing you good evening malicious people might be tempted to smile at your enthusiastic mention of your wife remembering that the person to whom you blued is Aurora Conyas the widow of your groom and that she has never possessed any legal claim to the title you bestow upon her if Mrs. Powell had been a man she would have found her head in contact with the turkey carpet of John's dining room before she could have concluded this speech as she was a woman John Millish stood looking her full in the face waiting till she had finished speaking but he bore the stabs she inflicted without flinching under its cruel pain and he robbed her of the gratification she had hoped for and he did not let her see his anguish the loft house has told her the secret he cried when the door had closed upon Mrs. Powell I'll horse whip him in the church End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 of Aurora Floyd this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Susan From Aurora Floyd by Mary Elizabeth Braden Chapter 30 an unexpected visitor Aurora found a civil railway official at the Doncaster station who was ready to take a ticket for her and find her a comfortable seat in an empty carriage but before the train started a couple of sturdy farmers took their seats upon the spring cushions opposite Mrs. Millish they were wealthy gentlemen who farmed their own land and took the owner of the stable yard into the carriage and they talked with that honest northern twang which always has a friendly sound to the writer of this story Aurora with her veil drawn over her pale face attracted very little of their attention they talked to farming stock and horse racing and looked out of the window every now and then to shrug their shoulders at somebody else's agriculture I believe they were acquainted with the capabilities of every acre of land between Doncaster and Harrow and knew how it might have been made worth ten shilling an acre more than it was too sir as they perpetually informed each other how wearisome their talk must have seemed to the poor lonely creature who was running away from the man she loved from the man who loved her and would love to the end of time I didn't mean what I wrote she thought my poor boy would never love me less his great heart is made up of unselfish love and generous devotion but he would be sorry for me he would be so sorry he could never be proud of me again he could never boast of me anymore he would always be resenting some insult or imagining some slight it would be too painful for him he would see his wife pointed at as the woman who had married her groom he would be embroiled in a hundred quarrels a hundred miseries I will make the only return that I can ever make to him for his goodness to me I will give him up and go away and hide myself from him forever she tried to imagine what John's life would be without her she tried to think of him in some future time when he should have worn out his grief and reconciled himself to her loss but she could not she could not endure any image of him in which he was separated from his love for her how should I ever think of him without thinking of his love for me she thought he loved me from the first moment in which he saw me except as a lover generous pure and true and in this mind Aurora watched the smaller stations which looked like mirror streaks of whitened woodwork as the express tour passed them though every one of them was a milestone upon the long road which was separating her from the man she loved oh careless wives who think it a small thing perhaps that your husbands are honest and generous constant and true and who are apt to grumble because door neighbors have started a carriage while you are famed to be content with 18 penny airings in vehicles procured at the nearest cab stand stop and think of this wretched girl who in this hour of desolation recalled a thousand little wrongs she had done to her husband and would have laid herself under his feet to be walked over by him could she have thus atoned for her petty tyrannies her petty caprices think of her in her loneliness with her heart yearning to go back to the man she loved and with her love arrayed against herself and pleading for him she changed her mind a hundred times during that four hours journey sometimes thinking that she would go back by the next train and then again remembering that her first impulse had been perhaps after all only to correct and that John Malish's heart had turned against her in the cruel humiliation of that morning's discovery have you tried to imagine the anger of a person whom you have never seen angry have you ever called up the image of a face that has never looked on you except in love and gentleness and invested that familiar countenance with the blank sternness of estrangement Aurora did this she acted over and over again in her weary brain the scene that might have taken place between her husband and herself she remembered that scene in the hackneyed stage play that everybody affects to ridicule and secretly weeps at she remembered Mrs. Haller and the stranger the children, the countess the cottage, the jewels the parchment and all the old familiar properties of that well-known fifth act in the simple social tragedy and she pictured to herself John Malish retiring in some distant country with his romantic trainer Langley and becoming a misanthropical hermit after the manner of the injured German life to be henceforth she shut her eyes upon that blank future I will go back to my father she thought I will go back to him again as I went before but this time there shall be no falsehoods no equivocations and this time nothing shall tempt me to leave him again amid all her perplexities she clung to the thought that Lucy and Talbot would help her she would appeal to the passionless Talbot Balstrode in behalf of her poor heartbroken John Talbot will tell me what is right and honourable to be done she thought I will hold by what he says he shall be the arbiter of my future I do not believe that Aurora had ever entertained any very passionate devotion for the handsome Cornishman but it is very certain that she had always respected him it may be that any love she had felt for him had grown out of that very respect and that her reverence for his character was made all the greater by the contrast between him and the base born schemer for whom her youth had been sacrificed she had submitted to the decree which had separated her from her affianced lover for she had believed in its justice and she was ready now to submit to any decision pronounced by the man in whose sense of honour she had unbounded confidence she thought of all these things again and again and again while the farmers talked of sheep and turnips of Thorley's food sweets and beans and corn and clover and of mysterious diseases which they discussed gravely under such terms as red gum finger and toe etc they alternated this talk with a dash of turf scandal and even in the all absorbing proplexities of her domestic sorrows Mrs. Malish could have turned fiercely upon these innocent farmers when they poo-pooed John Stable and made light of the reputation of her namesake the Bay Philly and declared that no horse that came out of the squire stable was ever anything better than a plater or a screw the journey came to an end only too quickly it seemed to Aurora too quickly for every mile widened the gulf she had set between herself and the home she loved every moment only brought the realisation of her loss more fully home to her mind I will abide by Talbot Balstrode's advice she kept saying to herself indeed this thought was the only read to which she clung in her trouble she was not a strong minded woman she had the generous impulsive nature which naturally turns to others for help and comfort secretiveness had no part in her organisation and the one concealment of her life had been a perpetual pain and grief to her it was past 8 o'clock when she found herself alone amid the bustle and confusion of the king's cross terminus she sent a porter for a cab and ordered the man to drive to half moon street it was only a few days since she had met Lucy and Talbot at Felden Woods and she knew that Mr. Balstrode and his wife were detained in town waiting for the prorogation of the house it was Saturday evening and therefore a holiday for the young advocate of the Cornish Miners and their rights but Talbot spent his leisure among blue books and parliamentary minutes and poor Lucy who might have been shining a pale star at some crowded conversation was compelled to forego the pleasure of struggling upon the staircase of one of those wise individuals who insist upon inviting their acquaintances to pack themselves into the smallest given space consistent with the preservation of life and trample upon each other's lace flounces and varnished boots with smiling equanimity perhaps in the universal fitness of things even these fashionable evenings have a certain solemn purpose deeply hidden under considerable surface frivolity it may be that they serve as moral gymnasia in which the thews and sinews of social amenity are wracked and tortured with a view to their increased power of endurance it is good for a man to have his favorite corn trodden upon and yet be compelled to smile under the torture and a woman may learn her first great lesson in fortitude from the destruction of 50 guineas worth of maishla and the necessity of destroying the destroyer that she is rather gratified than otherwise by the sacrifice no bless oblige it is good to suffer and be strong cold coffee and tepid ice cream may not be the most strengthening or delightful of food but there may be a moral diet provided at these social gatherings which is not without its usefulness Lucy willingly abandoned her own delights for she had that ladylike appreciation of society which had been a part of her education her placid nature knew no abnormal tendencies she liked the amusements that other girls of her position liked she had none of the eccentric predilections which had been so fatal to her cousin she was not like that lovely and illustrious Spanish lady who is said to love the cirque better than the opera and to have a more intense appreciation of a series of flying plunges through tissue paper covered hoops than of the most elaborate fioreture of tenor or soprano she gave up something therefore in resigning the stereotyped deities of the London season but heaven knows it was very pleasant to her to make the sacrifice her inclinations were fatted lambs which she offered willingly upon the altar of her idol she was never happier than when sitting by her husband side making extracts from the blue books to be quoted in some pamphlet that he was writing or if she was ever happier it was only when she sat in the lady's gallery straining her eyes a thwart the floriated iron fretwork which screened her from any wandering glances of distracted members in her vain efforts to see her husband in his place on the government benches and very rarely seeing more than the crown of Mr. Balstrode's hat she sat by Talbot's side upon this evening busy with some petty needlework and listening with patient attention to her husband's perusal of the two sheets of his last pamphlet it was a noble specimen of the stately and ponderous style of writing and it abounded in crushing arguments and magnificent climaxes which utterly annihilated somebody Lucy didn't exactly make out who and most incontrovertibly established something though Mrs. Balstrode couldn't quite understand what it was enough for her that he had written that wonderful composition and it was his rich baritone voice that rolled out the study Johnsonianisms if he had pleased to read Greek to her she would have thought it pleasant to listen to indeed there were pet passages of Homer which Mr. Balstrode now and then loved to recite to his wife and which the little hypocrite pretended to admire no cloud had darkened the calm heaven of Lucy's married life she loved and was beloved it was a part of her nature to love her sensual attitude and she had no wish to approach nearer to her idol to sit at her sultan's feet and replenish the rose water in his shibuk to watch him while he slept and wave the panka above his seraphic head to love and admire and pray for him made up the sum of her heart's desire it was close upon nine o'clock when Mr. Balstrode was interrupted in the very crowning sentence of his peroration by a double knock at the street door when half moon street are small and Talbot flung down his proof sheet with a gesture expressive of considerable irritation Lucy looked up half sympathizingly half apologetically at her lord and master she held herself in a manner responsible for his ease and comfort who can it be dear? she murmured at such a time too some annoyance or other idea same idea answered Talbot but whoever it is I won't see them tonight suppose Lucy, I've given you a pretty fair idea of the effect of this upon my honorable friend the member of four before Mr. Balstrode could name the burrow of which his honorable friend was the representative a servant announced that Mrs. Malish was waiting below to see the master of the house Aurora exclaimed Lucy starting from her seat and dropping the fair implements of her work in a little shower upon the carpet Aurora it can't be surely Talbot she only went back to Yorkshire a few days ago Mr. and Mrs. Malish are both below I suppose Mr. Balstrode said to the servant no sir, Mrs. Malish came alone in a cab from the station I believe Mrs. Malish is in the library sir I asked her to walk upstairs but she requested to see you alone sir if you please I'll come directly answered Talbot tell Mrs. Malish I will be with her immediately the door closed upon the servant and Lucy ran toward it eager to hurry to her cousin poor Aurora she said there must be something wrong surely Uncle Archibald has been taken ill perhaps he was not looking well when we left Felden I'll go to her Talbot I'm sure she'd like to see me first no Lucy no answered Mr. Balstrode laying his hand upon the door and standing between it and his wife I had rather you didn't see your cousin until I have seen her it will be better for me to see her first the face was very grave and his manner almost stern as he said this Lucy shrank from him as if he had wounded her she understood him very vaguely it is true but she understood that he had some doubt or suspicion of her cousin and for the first time in his life Mr. Balstrode saw an angry light kindled in his wife's blue eyes why should you prevent my seeing Aurora Lucy asked she is the best and dearest girl in the world why shouldn't I see her Talbot Balstrode stared in blank amazement at his mutinous wife be reasonable my dear Lucy he answered very mildly I hope always to be able to respect your cousin as much as I respect you but if Mrs. Malish leaves her husband in Yorkshire and comes to London without his permission for he would never permit her to come alone she must explain to me why she does so before I can suffer my wife to receive her poor Lucy's fair head she remembered her last conversation with her cousin that conversation in which Aurora had spoken of some far off day of trouble that might bring her to ask for comfort and shelter in Half Moon Street had the day of trouble come already was it wrong of Aurora to come alone Talbot dear Lucy asked meekly was it wrong replied Mr. Balstrode fiercely would it be wrong for you to go tearing from here to Cornwall child irritated by the mere imagination of such an outrage and he looked at Lucy as if he half suspected her of some such intention but Aurora may have had some very particular reason dear pleaded his wife I cannot imagine any reason powerful enough to justify such a proceeding answered Talbot but I shall be better able to judge of that when I've heard what Mrs. Malish has to say stay here Lucy till I send for you yes Talbot but she lingered near the door after her husband had closed it upon her with a mournful yearning in her heart she wanted to go to her cousin and comfort her if she had need of comfort she dreaded the effect of her husband's cold and passionless manner upon Aurora's impressionable nature Mr. Balstrode went down to the library to receive his kinswoman it would have been strange if he had failed to remember that Christmas evening nearly two years before upon which he had gone down to the shadowy room at Felden with every hope of his heart crushed to ask for comfort from the woman he loved it would have been strange if in the brief interval that elapsed between his leaving the drawing room and entering the library his mind had not flown back to that day of desolation if there was any infidelity to Lucy in that sharp thrill of pain that pierced his heart as the old memory came back the sin was as short-lived as the agony which it brought with it he was able now to say in all singleness of heart I made a wise choice and I shall never repent of having made it the library was a small apartment at the back of the dining room it was dimly lighted for Aurora had lowered the lamp she did not want Mr. Balstrode to see her face my dear Mrs. Malish said Talbot gravely I am so surprised at this visit that I scarcely know how to say I am glad to see you I fear something must have happened to cause your travelling alone join us ill perhaps or he might have said much more if Aurora had not interrupted him by casting herself upon her knees before him and looking up at him with a pale agonized face that seemed almost ghastly in the dim lamp light it was impossible to describe the look of horror that came upon Talbot Balstrode's face as she did this in over again he came to her in the hope that she would justify herself and tacitly acknowledged her humiliation she was a guilty woman then a guilty creature whom it would be his painful duty to cast out of that pure household she was a poor lost polluted wretch who must not be admitted into the holy atmosphere of a Christian gentleman's home Mrs. Malish he cried what is the meaning of this why do you give me this horrible pain again why do you insist upon humiliating yourself and me by such a scene as this oh Talbot Talbot answered Aurora I come to you because you are good and honourable I am a desolate wretched woman and I want your help I want your advice I will abide by it I will Talbot Balstrode so help me heaven her voice was broken by her sobs in her passionate grief and confusion she forgot that it was just possible such an appeal as this might be rather bewildering in its effect upon Talbot but perhaps even amid his bewilderment the young Cornishman saw or fancied he saw something in Aurora's manner which had no fellowship with guilt or with such guilt as he had at first dreaded I imagine that it must have been so for his voice was softer and his manner kinder when he next addressed her be sake be calm why have you left Malish what is the business in which I can help or advise you be calm my dear girl and I will try and understand you God knows how much I wish to be a friend to you for I stand in a brother's place you know my dear and demand a brother's right to question your actions I am sorry you came up to town alone because such a step was calculated to compromise you but if you will be calm I may be able to understand your motives come Aurora try and be calm she was still on her knees sobbing hysterically Talbot would have summoned his wife to her assistance but he could not bear to see the two women associated until he had discovered the cause of Aurora's agitation he poured some water into a glass and gave it her he placed her in an easy chair near the open window and then walked up and down the room until she had recovered herself Talbot burst road she said quietly after a long pause I want you to help me in the crisis of my life I must be candid with you therefore and tell you that which I would have died rather than tell you two years ago you remember the night upon which you left Felden remember it yes yes the secret which separated us then Talbot was the one secret of my life the secret of my disobedience the secret of my father sorrow you asked me to give you an account of that one year which was missing out of the history of my life I could not do so Talbot I would not my pride revolted against the horrible humiliation if you had discovered the secret yourself and had accused me of the disgraceful truth I would have attempted no denial but with my own lips to utter the hateful story no no I could have born anything better than that but now that my secret is common property in the keeping of police officers and stable boys I can afford to tell you all when I left the school in the Rusan Dominique I ran away to marry my father's groom Aurora Talbot Belstrode dropped into the chair nearest him and sat blankly staring at his wife's cousin was this the secret humiliation which had prostrated her at his feet in the chamber at Feldenwoods oh Talbot how could I have told you this how can I tell you now why I did this mad and wicked thing blighting the happiness of my youth by my own act and bringing shame and grief upon my father I had no romantic overwhelming love for this man I cannot plead the excuses which some women urge for their madness I had only a school girl's sentimental fancy for his dashing manner only a school girl's frivolous admiration of his handsome face I married him because he had dark blue eyes and long eyelashes and white teeth and brown hair he had insinuated himself into a kind of intimacy with me by bringing me all the empty gossip of the race course by extra attention to my favorite horses by rearing a litter of puppies for me all these things brought about associations between us he was always my companion in my rides and he contrived before long to tell me his story why should I weary you with it cried Aurora scornfully he was a prince in disguise of course he was a gentleman's son his father had kept his hunters he was at war with fortune he had been ill-used and trampled down in the battle of life his talk was something to this effect and I believed him why should I disbelieve him I had lived all my life in an atmosphere of truth my governess and I talked perpetually of the groom's story she was a silly woman and encouraged my folly out of mere stupidity I believe and with no suspicion of the mischief she was doing we criticized the groom's handsome face his white hands his aristocratic manners I mistook insolence for aristocracy heaven help me and as we saw scarcely any society at that time I compared my father's groom with the few guests who came to Felden and the town bread imposter profited why should I stay to account to you for my folly Talbot Balstrode I could never succeed in doing so though I talked for a week I cannot account to myself for my madness I can only look back to that horrible time and wonder why I was mad my poor Aurora my poor Aurora he spoke in the pitying tone with which he might have comforted her had she been a child he was thinking of her in her childish ignorance exposed to the insidious advances of an unscrupulous schemer and his heart bled for the motherless girl my father found some letters written by this man and discovered that his daughter had affianced herself to his groom he made this discovery while I was out riding with James Conyers the groom's name was Conyers and when I came home it was a fearful scene between us I was mad enough and wicked enough to defend my conduct and to reproach my father with the morality of his sentiments I went even farther I reminded him that the house of Floyd and Floyd had had a very humble origin he took me to Paris upon the following day I thought myself cruelly treated I revolted against the ceremonial monotony of the passion I hated the studies which were ten times more difficult than anything I had ever experienced with my governess I suffered terribly from the conventual passion for I had been used to the perfect freedom among the country roads round Felden and amid all this the groom pursued me with letters and messages for he had followed me to Paris and spent his money recklessly in bribing the servants and hangers on of the school he was playing for a high stake and he played so desperately that he won I ran away from school and married him at Dover within eight or nine hours of my escape from the rue Saint Dominique her face in her hands and was silent for some time heaven have pity upon my wretched ignorance she said at last the illusion under which I had married this man ended in about a week at the end of that time discovered that I was the victim of a mercenary wretch who meant to use me to the utter most as a means of bringing money from my father for some time I submitted and my father paid and paid dearly for his daughter's folly he refused to receive the man I had married or to see me until I separated myself from that man he offered the groom an income on the condition of his going to Australia and resigning all association with me forever but the man had a higher game to play he wanted to bring about a reconciliation with my father and he thought that in due time that tender father's resolution would have yielded to the force of his love it was little better than a year after my marriage that I made a discovery that transformed me in one moment from a girl into a woman a revengeful woman perhaps Mr. Balstrode I discovered that I had been wronged, deceived and outraged by a wretch who laughed at my ignorant confidence in him I had learned to hate the man long before this occurred I had learned to despise his shallow trickeries his insolent pretensions but I do not think I felt his deeper infamy mainly for that we were traveling in the south of France my husband playing the great gentleman upon my father's money when this discovery was made by me or not by me for it was forced upon me by a woman who knew my story and pitied me within half an hour of obtaining this knowledge I acted upon it I wrote to James Conyers telling him I had discovered that which gave me the right to call upon the law to release me from him and if I refrained from doing so it was for my father's sake and not for his I told him that so long as he left me unmolested and kept my secret I would remit him money from time to time I told him that I left him to the associations he had chosen for himself and that my only prayer was that God in his mercy might grant me complete forgetfulness of him I left this letter for him with the concierge and quitted the hotel in such a manner to prevent his obtaining any trace of the way I had gone I stopped in Paris for a few days waiting for a reply to a letter I had written to my father telling him that James Conyers was dead perhaps that was the worst sin of my life Talbot I deceived my father but I believed that I was doing a wise and merciful thing in setting his mind at rest he would never have been happy so long as he had believed the man lived you understand all now Talbot she said mournfully you remember the mourning at Brighton yes yes and the newspaper with the marked paragraph the report of the jockey's death that report was false Talbot Ball Strowed cried Aurora James Conyers was not killed Talbot's face grew suddenly pale he began to understand something of the nature of that trouble which had brought Aurora to him what he was still living then he said anxiously yes until the night before last but where where has he been all this time during the last 10 days at Malish Park she told him the terrible story of the murder the trainer's death had not yet been reported in the London papers she told him the dreadful story and then looking up at him with an earnest imploring face as she might have done had he been indeed her brother she entreated him to help and counsel her in this terrible hour of need teach me how to do what is best for my dear love she said don't think of me or my happiness Talbot think only of him I will make any sacrifice I will submit to anything I want to atone to my poor dear for all the misery I have brought upon him Talbot Ball Strowed did not make any reply to this earnest appeal the administrative powers of his mind were at work he was busy summing up facts and setting them before him in order to grapple with them fairly and he had no attention to waste upon sentiment or emotion he was walking up and down the room with his eyebrows knitted sternly over his cold gray eyes and his head bent how many people know this secret Aurora he asked presently I can't tell you that but I fear it must be very generally known answered Mrs. Malish with a shuddering recollection of the softies insolence I heard of the discovery that had been made from a hanger on of the stables a man who hates me a man whom I had a misunderstanding with have you any idea who it was that shot this conures no not the least idea you do not even guess at one no Talbot took a few more turns up and down the small apartment in evident trouble and perplexity of mind he left the room presently and called at the foot of the staircase Lucy my dear come down to your cousin I'm afraid Mrs. Ball Strowed must have been lurking somewhere about the outside of the drawing room door for she flew down the stairs at the sound of the strong voice and was by her husband's side two or three seconds after he had spoken oh Talbot she said how long you have been I thought you would never send for me what has been the matter with my poor darling go into her and comfort her my dear Mr. Ball Strowed answered gravely she has had enough trouble heaven knows poor girl don't ask her any questions Lucy but make her as comfortable as you can and give her the best room you can find for her she will stay with us as long as she remains in town dear dear Talbot murmured the young Cornishman's grateful worshipper how kind you are kind cried Mr. Ball Strowed she has need of friends Lucy and God knows I will act the brothers part toward her faithfully and bravely yes bravely he added raising his head with an almost defiant gesture as he slowly ascended the stairs what was the dark cloud which he saw brooding so fatally over the far horizon he dared not think of what it was he dared not even acknowledge its presence but there was a sense of trouble and horror in his breast that told him the shadow was there Lucy Ball Strowed ran into the library and flung herself upon her cousin's breast and wept with her she did not ask the nature of the sorrow which had brought Aurora an unexpected and uninvited guest to that modest little dwelling house she only knew that her cousin was in trouble and that it was her happy privilege to offer her shelter and consolation she would have fought a sturdy battle in defense of this privilege but she adored her husband for the generosity which had granted it to her without a struggle for the first time in her life poor gentle Lucy took a new position with her cousin it was her turn to protect Aurora it was her turn to display a pretty motherly tenderness for the desolate creature whose aching head rested on her bosom the west end clocks were striking three in the dead middle of the night when Mrs. Malish fell into a feverish lumber even in her sleep repeating again and again my poor John my poor dear love what will become of him my own faithful darling End of chapter 30 Chapter 31 of Aurora Floyd This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Susan from Aurora Floyd by Mary Elizabeth Braden 31. Talbot Bulstrode's Advice Talbot Bulstrode went out early upon the quiet Sunday morning after Aurora's arrival and walked down to the telegraph company's office at Charing Cross whence he dispatched a message to Mr. John Malish it was a very brief message only telling Mr. Malish to come to town without delay and that he would find Aurora in Half Moon Street Mr. Bulstrode walked quietly homeward in the morning sunshine after having performed this duty even the London streets were bright and dewy in that early sunlight for it was only a little after seven o'clock and the fresh morning breezes came sweeping over the housetops bringing health and purity from Shooters Hill and Highgate Streetham and Barnsbury Richmond and Hampstead the white morning mists were slowly melting from the worn grass in the Green Park and weary creatures who had had no better shelter than the quiet sky were creeping away to find such wretched resting places as they might in that free city in which to sit for an unreasonable time upon a door step or to ask a rich citizen for the price of a loaf is to commit an indictable offence surely it was impossible for any young legislator not quite worn out by a lifelong struggle with the time which was never meant to be said right surely it was impossible for any fresh-hearted, prosperous young liberal to walk through those quiet streets without thinking of these things Talbot Bulstrode thought very earnestly and very mournfully to what end were his labors after all he was fighting for a handful of Cornish miners doing battle with the rampant spirit of circumlocution for the sake of a few benighted wretches buried in the darkness of a black abyss of ignorance a hundred times deeper and darker than the material obscurities in which they labored he was working his best and his hardest that these men might be taught in some easy unambitious manner the simplest elements of Christian love and Christian duty he was working for these poor far away creatures in their forgotten corner of the earth and here, around and about him was ignorance more terrible because hand in hand with the ignorance of all good there was the fatal experience of all evil the simple Cornish miner who uses his pickaxe in the region of his friend's skull when he wishes to enforce an argument does so because he knows no other species of emphasis but in the London universities of crime, navery and vice and violence and sin matriculate and graduate day by day to take their degrees in the felons dock or on the scaffold how could he be otherwise than sorrowful thinking of these things were Sodom and Gomorrah worse than this city in which there were yet so many good and earnest men laboring patiently day by day and taking little rest was the great accumulation of evil so heavy that it rolled forever back upon these untiring sisyphuses or did they make some imperceptible advance toward the mountaintop despite of all discouragement with this weary question debating itself in his brain Mr. Balstrode walked along Piccadilly toward the comfortable bachelor's quarters whose most commonplace attributes Lucy had turned to favor and to prettiness but at the door of the Gloucester coffee house Talbot paused to stare absently at a nervous looking chestnut mare who insisted upon going through several lively performances upon her hind legs very much to the annoyance of an unshaven osler and not particularly to the advantage of a smart little dog cart to which she was harnessed you needn't pull her mouth to pieces my man cried a voice from the doorway of the hotel use her gently and she'll soon quiet herself steady, my girl, steady added the owner of this voice walking to the dog cart as he spoke Talbot had good reason to stop short for this gentleman was Mr. John Malish whose pale face and loose disordered hair betokened a sleepless night he was going to spring into the dog cart when his old friend tapped him on the shoulder this is a rather lucky accident John for you're the very person I want to see said Mr. Balstrode I'm left to you John Malish stared with a blank face don't hinder me please he said I'll talk to you by and by I'll call upon you in a day or two I'm just off to Felden I've only been in town an hour and a half and should have gone down before if I had not been afraid of knocking up the family he made another attempt to get into the vehicle but Talbot caught him by the arm you needn't go to Felden he said your wife's much nearer hey? come and have some breakfast there was no shadow upon Talbot Balstrode's mind as his old school fellow caught him by the hand and nearly dislocated his wrist in a paroxysm of joy and gratitude it was impossible for him to look beyond that sudden burst of sunshine upon John's face if Mr. Malish had been separated from his wife for ten years and had just returned from the antipodes for the sole purpose of seeing her again he could scarcely have appeared more delighted at the prospect of a speedy meeting Aurora here, he said, at your house my dear old fellow you can't mean it but of course I ought to have known she'd come to you she couldn't have done anything better or wiser after having been so foolish as to doubt me she came to me for advice John she wanted me to advise her act for your happiness yours, your great Yorkshireman and not her own bless her noble heart cried Mr. Malish huskily and you told her I told her nothing my dear fellow but I tell you to take your lawyer down to Doctor's Commons with you tomorrow morning get a new license and marry your wife for the second time in some quiet little out of the way church in the city Aurora had risen very early upon peaceful Sunday morning the few hours of feverish and fitful sleep had brought very little comfort to her she stood with her weary head leaning against the window frame and looked hopelessly out into the empty London street she looked out into the desolate beginning of a new life the blank uncertainty of an unknown future all the minor miseries peculiar to a toilette in a strange room were doubly miserable to her brought the poor luggage-less traveller all the paraphernalia of the toilette table and had arranged everything with her own busy hands but the most insignificant trifle that Aurora touched in her cousin's chamber brought back the memory of some costly toy chosen for her by her husband she had travelled in her white morning dress and the soft lace and muslin were none the fresher for her journey but as two of Lucy's dresses joined together would have scarcely fitted her stately cousin Mrs. Malish was famed to be content with her limp muslin what did it matter? the loving eyes which noted every shred of ribbon every morsel of lace every fold of her garments were perhaps never to look upon her again she twisted her hair into a careless mass at the back of her head and had completed her toilette when Lucy came to the door tenderly anxious to know how she had slept I will abide by Talbot's decision she repeated to herself again and again if he says it is best for my dear that we should part I will go away forever I will ask my father to take me far away and my poor darling shall not even know where I have gone I will be true in what I do and will do it thoroughly she looked to Talbot Belfastrode as a wise judge to whose sentence she would be willing to submit perhaps she did this because her own heart kept forever repeating she was the one who loves you go back go back there is no wrong you can do him so bitter as to desert him there is no unhappiness you can bring upon him equal to the unhappiness of losing you let me be your guide go back go back but this selfish monitor must not be listened to how bitterly this poor girl so old an experience of sorrow remembered the selfish sin of her mad marriage she had refused to sacrifice a school girl's foolish delusion she had disobeyed the father who had given her 17 years of patient love and devotion and she looked at all the misery of her youth as the fatal growth of this evil seed so rebelliously sown surely such a lesson was not to be altogether unheeded surely it was powerful enough to teach her the duty of sacrifice it was this thought that steeled her against the pleadings of her own affection it was this that she looked to Talbot Bulstrode as the arbiter of her future had she been a Roman Catholic she would have gone to her confessor and appealed to a priest who, having no social ties of his own must of course be the best judge of all the duties involved in domestic relations for comfort and succour but being of another faith she went to the man whom she most respected and who, being a husband himself might as she thought and the duty that was due to her husband she went downstairs with Lucy into a little inner room upon the drawing room floor a snug apartment, opening into a might of a conservatory it was Mr. and Mrs. Bulstrode's habit to breakfast in this cozy little chamber rather than in that awful temple of slippery Morocco funereal bronze and ghastly mahogany which upholsterers insist upon as the only legitimate place in which an Englishman may take his meals Lucy loved to sit opposite her husband at the small round table and minister to his morning appetite from her pretty breakfast equippage of silver and china she knew to the smallest weight employed at Apothecaries Hall I think how much sugar Mr. Bulstrode liked in his tea she poured the cream into his cup as carefully as if she had been making up a prescription he took the simple beverage of turquoise sev that had cost seven guineas and had been made for Madame de Paris the Rococo merchant had told Talbot had his customer been a lady I fear Marie Antoinette would have been described as the original possessor of the porcelain Mrs. Bulstrode loved to minister to her husband she picked the bloated livers of martyred geese out of the Strasbourg pies for his delectation she spread the butter upon his dry toast and pampered and waited on him serving him as only such women served their idols but this morning she had her cousin Soros to comfort and she established Aurora in a capacious chintz covered easy chair on the threshold of the conservatory and seated herself at her feet my poor pale darling she said tenderly what can I do to bring the roses back to your cheeks love me and pity me dear Aurora answered gravely but don't ask me any questions the two women sat thus for some time Aurora's handsome head bent over Lucy's fair face and her hand clasped in both Lucy's hands they talked very little and only spoke then of indifferent matters or of Lucy's happiness and Talbot's parliamentary career the little clock over the chimney piece struck the quarter before eight they were very early these unfashionable people and a minute after Mrs. Bulstrode heard her husband step upon the stairs returning from his anti-breakfast walk it was his habit to take a constitutional stroll in the green park now and then so Lucy had thought nothing of this early excursion Talbot has let himself in with his latch key said Mrs. Bulstrode and I may pour out the tea Aurora but listen dear I think there's someone with him there was no need to bid Aurora listen she had started from her low seat and stood erect and motionless breathing in a quick agitated manner and looking toward the door besides Talbot Bulstrode's step there was another quicker and heavier a step she knew so well the door was opened and Talbot entered the room followed by a visitor who pushed aside his host with very little attention to the laws of civilized society and indeed nearly drove Mr. Bulstrode backward into a gilded basket of flowers but this stalwart John Malish had no intention of being unmanally or brutal he pushed aside his friend only as he would have pushed or tried to push aside a regiment of soldiers with fixed bayonets or a Lancaster gun or a raging ocean or any other impediment that had come between him and Aurora he had her in his arms before she could even cry his name aloud in her glad surprise and in another moment she was sobbing on his breast my darling my pet my own he cried smoothing her dark hair with his broad hand and blessing her and weeping over her my own love how could you do this how could you wrong me so much my own precious darling had you learned to know me no better than this in all our happy married life I came to ask Talbot's advice John she said earnestly and I mean to abide by it however cruel it may seem Mr. Bulstrode smiled gravely as he watched these two foolish people he was very much pleased with his part in the little domestic drama and he contemplated them with a sublime consciousness of being the author of all this happiness for they were happy the poet has said there are some moments very rare very precious very brief which stand by themselves and have their perfect fullness of joy within their own fleeting span taking nothing from the past demanding nothing of the future had John and Aurora known that they were to be separated by the breadth of Europe for the remainder of their several lives did not the less have wept joyful tears at the pure blissfulness of this meeting you asked me for my advice Aurora said Talbot and I bring it to you let the past die with the man who died the other night the future is not yours to dispose of it belongs to your husband John Malish having delivered himself of these oracular sentences Mr. Bulstrode seated himself at the breakfast table and looked into the mysterious and cavernous interior of a raised pie with such an intent gaze that it seemed as if he never meant to look out of it he devoted so many minutes to this serious contemplation that by the time he looked up again Aurora had become quite calm while Mr. Malish affected an unnatural gaiety and exhibited no stronger sign of past emotion than a certain inflamed appearance in the region of his eyelids but this devoted, impressionable Yorkshireman ate a most extraordinary repast in honour of this reunion he spread mustard on his muffins he poured Worcester sauce into his coffee and cream over his devil to cutlets he showed his gratitude to Lucy by loading her plate with commestibles she didn't want he talked perpetually and devoured incongruous beyonds in utter absence of mind he shook hands with Talbot so many times across the breakfast table that he exposed the lives or limbs of the whole party to imminent peril from the boiling water in the urn he threw himself into a paroxysm of coughing and made himself scarlet in the face by an injudicious use of cayenne pepper and he exhibited himself altogether in such an imbecile light that Talbot Balstrode was compelled to have recourse to all sorts of expedience to keep the servants out of the room during the progress of that rather noisy and bewildering repast the Sunday papers were brought to the master of the house before breakfast was over and while John talked ate and gesticulated Mr Balstrode hid himself behind the open leaves of the weekly dispatch reading a paragraph that appeared in that journal this paragraph gave a brief account of the murder and the inquest at Malish and wound up by that rather stereotyped sentence in which the public are informed that the local police are giving unremitting attention to the affair and we think we may venture to affirm that they have obtained a clue which will most probably lead to the early discovery of the guilty party. Talbot Balstrode with the newspaper still before his face sat for some little time frowning darkly at the page upon which this paragraph appeared the horrible shadow whose nature he would not acknowledge even to himself once more lowered upon the horizon which had just seemed so bright and clear I would give a thousand pounds he thought if I could find the murderer of this man End of 31