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Updated: June 27, 2025
Down came the countess-dowager. "Here's that old dowager calling to me. She never lets me alone. Val sent me into a fit of laughter yesterday, saying she had designs on me for Maude. Poor deluded woman! Yes, ma'am, I hear. What is it?" Mr. Elster went strolling along on the banks of the river, towards Calne; not with any particular purpose, but in his restless uneasiness.
A cold, bleak, bitter morning, the wind howling, the snow flying in drifts. Mr. Carr went to church, and he was the only one of the party in the house who did go. The countess-dowager the previous night had proclaimed the fact that she meant to go as a sort of reproach to any who meant to keep away. However, when the church-bells began, she was turning round in her warm bed for another nap.
And he felt that it was true; here was the solution to the conduct which had puzzled him, puzzled the doctors, puzzled the household and the countess-dowager. "And how and how?" he gasped. "When that stranger was here last, I heard what he said to you," she replied, avowing the fact without shame in the moment's terrible anguish. "I made the third at the interview."
"Then, Lord Hartledon, I can tell you the alarm's worse, and another has taken it, and the parish is up in arms," said the countess-dowager, tartly. "It has proved to be fever of a most malignant type, and not a soul but Hillary the surgeon goes near the Rectory, You must not venture within half-a-mile of it. Dr.
Lord Hartledon was not the only husband who has been disagreeably astonished by a similar metamorphosis. The following was the letter of the countess-dowager: "Darling Maude, "I have secured the house you write about and send by this post for Hedges and a few of the rest from Hartledon.
"Perhaps you'll tell her who I am, Hartledon; and that I have undertaken to preside here for a little while." "I believe Mrs. Mirrable knows you, ma'am," spoke up Percival Elster, for Lord Hartledon had turned away, and was lost amongst his guests. "You have seen the Countess-Dowager of Kirton, Mirrable?" The countess-dowager faced round upon the speaker sharply. "Oh, it's you, Val Elster?
The doubt was sufficiently strong to cause him to tear up the letter. But he was not satisfied with Lord Hartledon's own behaviour; had not been for some few months; and he then wrote a second letter, suspending matters until they should meet again. It was in effect what was asked for by the countess-dowager; and he wrote a cold proud letter to that lady, stating what he had done.
The sentence broke off abruptly, and ended with a growl at things in general. Mr. Pike was evidently not in a genial mood. Mirrable reached home to find the countess-dowager in a state more easily imagined than described. Some sprite, favourable to the peace of Hartledon, had been writing confidentially from Ireland regarding Kirton and his doings.
"The Ashtons are bringing an action against him for breach of promise; and he and Mr. Carr the barrister are trying to arrange it without its coming to a trial." The old lady opened her eyes and her mouth. "It is true. They lay the damages at ten thousand pounds!" With a shriek the countess-dowager began to dance. Ten thousand pounds!
Liberated by the Countess-dowager of Gloucester, who contrived to open their prison door with false keys, the youthful captives escaped to the marshes of Wales, where, however, they were overtaken by the emissaries of Henry, and brought back to their former place of confinement.
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