Bessy Rane: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"Yes I did," replied Timothy Wilks. "Some might be found to do it. No offence to Dr. Rane. I'm putting the possible case of a bad man; not of him."

[CHAPTER IX.]

AT THE SEASIDE

The summer was slowly passing. At a small and obscure seaside place on the East coast Mrs. Cumberland was located. She had engaged part of one of the few good houses there--houses that let at an enormous price in the season to visitors--and lived in it with Ellen Adair, and her maid to wait on her. Not Jelly this time, but the housemaid Ann. The interior of Mrs. Cumberland's own house at Dallory was being painted during her absence. She had deemed it well to leave Jelly in charge: and brought Ann instead.

They had been in this place, Eastsea, for some weeks now; and Ellen privately believed that this sojourn was never coming to an end. Any thing more wearisome than it was to her, could not have been found. Arthur Bohun was in London at his uncle's, where he had been staying for some time. It was several weeks since he and Ellen had met: to her it seemed as many months. James Bohun was still ill, but fluctuated much; at one time appearing to be beyond recovery, at another as if he were almost well again. He would not part with Arthur; Sir Nash said he must not think of leaving. Under the circumstances, Arthur did not see his way clear to getting away.

Another person was fluctuating. And that was Mrs. Cumberland. Her complaint, connected with the heart, was one of those that may snap life suddenly, or allow it to be prolonged for years. That she was gradually growing worse, was undoubted; but it was by almost imperceptible degrees. No change could be noted from day to day; it was only by comparing her present state with what it had been three, six, or twelve months before, that the change could be seen. Sometimes, for days together, she would feel very ill, be quite unable to quit her room; and again she would have an interval of ease, almost of seeming recovery, and walk and drive out daily. Dr. Rane had come over twice to see his mother: staying on each occasion only a few hours. His opinion was, that she might yet, with care, live for years; and probably many years. At the same time, he knew that there could be no certainty of it.

It was during this sojourn at Eastsea that Mrs. Cumberland received news from Mr. Adair. He wrote in answer to Mrs. Cumberland's letter--the first of the two letters already alluded to--wherein she had spoken of the probability of Ellen's being sought in marriage by a gentleman in every way desirable, but in which she had omitted, probably from inadvertence, to mention the gentleman's name. Mr. Adair's answer, now received, was to the effect that--fully relying on Mrs. Cumberland's judgment--he could not desire better for his daughter than that so suitable a marriage should be entered into; and accorded it his cordial consent.

But this involved a most unhappy contretemps: of which no one as yet was, or could be, conscious. That first letter of Mrs. Cumberland's had alluded to Mr. Graves: she imagined this consent to apply to Arthur Bohun. It takes time, as every one knows, for a letter to reach Australia from England and an answer to be returned. Whether, during those intervening weeks, Mrs. Cumberland actually forgot that her first letter had applied to Mr. Graves: or whether in her invalid state, memory had grown confused, and she remembered only the last letter, must ever remain a question. Certain it was, that she accepted this present approbation of Mr. Adair's as applying to Arthur Bohun. It might be, that she had altogether forgotten having written about Mr. Graves.

With her usual reticence, she said nothing to Ellen Adair. Not a word. Time enough for that when Arthur Bohun should speak--if he ever did speak. She held the consent ready for use if necessity ever required it: and was at ease.

"Ellen, how listless you seem!"