The cloven foot : $b A novelBraddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
General
The cloven foot : $b A novel
Braddon, M. E. (Mary Elizabeth)
Detective and mystery stories; Domestic fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Psychological fiction
‘And he rewards her devotion by running away from her before the end
of their honeymoon; and when he turns up again, after an interval of
six months or so, during which nobody knows what he has been doing,
she receives him with open arms. A curious couple assuredly. But an
estate worth fourteen thousand pounds a year excuses a good deal of
eccentricity; and I can quite understand that Mr. and Mrs. Treverton
are immensely popular in the neighbourhood.’
‘They are,’ said Celia, warmly; ‘and they deserve to be. If you knew
how good they are to their tenants, their servants, and the poor.’
‘Goodness of that kind is a very sagacious investment, my
unsophisticated child. It may cost a man five per cent. of his income,
and it buys him respectability.’
‘Don’t be bitter, Edward.’
‘I am a man of the world, Celia, and not to be hoodwinked by shams and
appearances.’
‘Then you’ll never be a poet,’ protested his sister. ‘A man who doesn’t
believe that good deeds come from the hearts of men--a man who looks
for an unworthy motive behind every generous action--such a man as that
will never be a great poet. It is quite too dreadful to hear you talk,
Edward. That odious London has corrupted you.’
Edward went to the dinner next day, but not with his family. He came
alone, and rather late, in order to observe the effect of his entrance
upon Laura Treverton. Alas, for his wounded vanity! She welcomed him
with a frank smile and a friendly grasp of the hand.
‘I am so glad you have come back in time to be with us to-night,’ she
said.
‘I came back on purpose for to-night,’ he answered, throwing as much
tenderness as he could into a commonplace remark.
‘I think you know every one here. I need not introduce you.’
‘I know the local magnates, of course. But I dare say there are some of
your husband’s swell friends who are strangers to me.’
‘There are none of my husband’s friends,’ answered Laura, ‘we are
strictly local.’
‘Then I’m afraid you’ll find the evening rather uphill work.’
‘I expect you to help me through it by the brilliancy of your
conversation,’ Laura answered lightly, as Edward moved aside to make
way for a new arrival.
He had contrived to make her uncomfortable for a minute or so, for that
speech of his had set her wondering why her husband had no friends
worth summoning to his side now that fortune smiled upon him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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