England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
"I was out alone in our garden, trimming the shrubs, when the
maid-servant came and told me there was a foreign lady in a carriage at
the door who desired to say a word to Mrs. Van Brandt. I sent the maid
on before to show her into the sitting-room, and I followed to receive
my visitor as soon as I had made myself tidy. She was a dreadful woman,
with a flushed, fiery face and impudent, bright eyes. 'Are you Mrs. Van
Brandt?' she said. I answered, 'Yes.' 'Are you really married to him?'
she asked me. That question (naturally enough, I think) upset my temper.
I said, 'How dare you doubt it?' She laughed in my face. 'Send for Van
Brandt,' she said. I went out into the passage and called him down from
the room upstairs in which he was writing. 'Ernest,' I said, 'here is
a person who has insulted me. Come down directly.' He left his room the
moment he heard me. The woman followed me out into the passage to meet
him. She made him a low courtesy. He turned deadly pale the moment he
set eyes on her. That frightened me. I said to him, 'For God's sake,
what does this mean?' He took me by the arm, and he answered: 'You shall
know soon. Go back to your gardening, and don't return to the house till
I send for you.' His looks were so shocking, he was so unlike himself,
that I declare he daunted me. I let him take me as far as the garden
door. He squeezed my hand. 'For my sake, darling,' he whispered, 'do
what I ask of you.' I went into the garden and sat me down on the
nearest bench, and waited impatiently for what was to come.
"How long a time passed I don't know. My anxiety got to such a pitch at
last that I could bear it no longer. I ventured back to the house.
"I listened in the passage, and heard nothing. I went close to the
parlor door, and still there was silence. I took courage, and opened the
door.
"The room was empty. There was a letter on the table. It was in my
husband's handwriting, and it was addressed to me. I opened it and read
it. The letter told me that I was deserted, disgraced, ruined. The woman
with the fiery face and the impudent eyes was Van Brandt's lawful wife.
She had given him his choice of going away with her at once or of being
prosecuted for bigamy. He had gone away with her--gone, and left me.
"Remember, sir, that I had lost both father and mother. I had no
friends. I was alone in the world, without a creature near to comfort or
advise me. And please to bear in mind that I have a temper which feels
even the smallest slights and injuries very keenly. Do you wonder at
what I had it in my thoughts to do that evening on the bridge?
"Mind this: I believe I should never have attempted to destroy myself if
I could only have burst out crying. No tears came to me. A dull, stunned
feeling took hold like a vise on my head and on my heart. I walked
straight to the river. I said to myself, quite calmly, as I went along,
'_There_ is the end of it, and the sooner the better.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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