The Tale of Chloe: An Episode in the History of Beau BeamishMeredith, George
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The Tale of Chloe: An Episode in the History of Beau Beamish
Meredith, George
English fiction -- 19th century
He promised her it should be done.
Close on the hour of her appointment, he stood under the fir-trees,
admiring the sunset along the western line of hills, and when Chloe
joined him he spoke of the beauty of the scene.
'Though nothing seems more eloquently to say farewell,' he added, with a
sinking voice.
'We could say it now, and be friends,' she answered.
'Later than now, you think it unlikely that you could forgive me, Chloe.'
'In truth, sir, you are making it hard for me.'
'I have stayed here to keep watch; for no pleasure of my own,' said he.
'Mr. Beamish is an excellent protector of the duchess.'
'Excellent; and he is cleverly taught to suppose she fears him greatly;
and when she offends him, he makes a display of his Jupiter's awfulness,
with the effect on woman of natural spirit which you have seen, and
others had foreseen, that she is exasperated and grows reckless. Tie
another knot in your string, Chloe.'
She looked away, saying, 'Were you not the cause? You were in collusion
with that charlatan of the heath, who told them their fortunes this
morning. I see far, both in the dark and in the light.'
'But not through a curtain. I was present.'
'Hateful, hateful business of the spy! You have worked a great mischief
Mr. Camwell. And how can you reconcile it to, your conscience that you
should play so base a part?'
'I have but performed my duty, dear madam.'
'You pretend that it is your devotion to me! I might be flattered if I
saw not so abject a figure in my service. Now have I but four days of my
month of happiness remaining, and my request to you is, leave me to enjoy
them. I beseech you to go. Very humbly, most earnestly, I beg your
departure. Grant it to me, and do not stay to poison my last days here.
Leave us to-morrow. I will admit your good intentions. I give you my
hand in gratitude. Adieu, Mr. Camwell.'
He took her hand. 'Adieu. I foresee an early separation, and this dear
hand is mine while I have it in mine. Adieu. It is a word to be
repeated at a parting like ours. We do not blow out our light with one
breath: we let it fade gradually, like yonder sunset.'
'Speak so,' said she.
'Ah, Chloe, to give one's life! And it is your happiness I have sought
more than your favor.'
'I believe it; but I have not liked the means. You leave us to-morrow?'
'It seems to me that to-morrow is the term.'
Her face clouded. 'That tells me a very uncertain promise.'
'You looked forth to a month of happiness--meaning a month of delusion.
The delusion expires to-night. You will awaken to see your end of it in
the morning. You have never looked beyond the month since the day of his
arrival.'
'Let him not be named, I supplicate you.'
'Then you consent that another shall be sacrificed for you to enjoy your
state of deception an hour longer?'
'I am not deceived, sir. I wish for peace, and crave it, and that is all
I would have.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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