On the Brink of a Chasm: A record of plot and passionMeade, L. T.
General
On the Brink of a Chasm: A record of plot and passion
Meade, L. T.
Conspiracies -- Fiction; Husband and wife -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Mesmerism -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction
On the following morning at an early hour Tarbot, knowing nothing of the
arrival of Mrs. Ives, went down to Devonshire. He left the train at the
little station of Haversham, and, taking a trap, drove straight to the
“Pelham Arms” in the village of Great Pelham, which went by this name in
contradistinction to Little Pelham, which was four miles distant at the
other side of Pelham Towers.
Having secured the best room which the “Pelham Arms” boasted of, Tarbot
proceeded to make himself comfortable. He ordered a good dinner,
unpacked his traps, and then took a stroll to reconnoiter the place. He
knew Pelham Towers well, having been there in his boyhood, and he wished
now to revisit his old haunts, and prepare for the campaign which he had
set himself.
As he was returning to the inn, just as the dusk was falling, a carriage
passed him. The occupants of the carriage were Barbara and Mrs. Pelham.
There was still light enough for them to recognize him. Barbara desired
the carriage to stop, and Tarbot went up to speak to the two ladies.
“What are you doing here?” asked Barbara.
“I have come down on special business,” he replied. “I have a matter I
want to consult you about,” he added, looking full at Mrs. Pelham.
“Certainly,” she answered.
Then Barbara spoke.
“Why did you not tell us, Dr. Tarbot? We could have put you up at the
Towers.”
“Thank you,” he replied; “but I have taken a very comfortable room at
the ‘Pelham Arms.’”
Barbara paused for a moment. She did not like Tarbot, and was sorry he
had come to Great Pelham, but as he was there she felt she must be civil
to him.
“You will dine with us to-night?” she said, bending out of the carriage
as she spoke and looking at him.
He glanced full up into her lovely eyes. Her face caused his heart to
beat wildly.
“I will come,” he said in a hoarse voice.
Barbara could not but observe his agitation. She repented of having
asked him.
“We dine at seven,” she said coldly, falling back into her seat as she
spoke. “We shall expect you at that hour.”
He answered in the affirmative, and the carriage bowled rapidly away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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