As for that little midnight incident, well, it was one thing
and marriage was another. People forget such events when they marry;
sometimes even they marry in order to forget them.
Yes, she must strike, but how? Elizabeth had feelings like other people.
She did not mind ruining her sister and rival, but she would very much
prefer it should not be known that hers was the hand to cut her down. Of
course, if the worst came to the worst, she must do it. Meanwhile, might
not a substitute be found--somebody in whom the act would seem not one
of vengeance, but of virtue? Ah! she had it: Lady Honoria! Who could be
better for such a purpose than the cruelly injured wife? But then how
should she communicate the facts to her ladyship without involving
herself? Again she hit upon a device much favoured by such people--"un
vieux truc mais toujours bon"--the pristine one of an anonymous letter,
which has the startling merit of not committing anybody to anything.
An anonymous letter, to all appearance written by a servant: it was the
very thing! Most likely it would result in a searching inquiry by Lady
Honoria, in which event Elizabeth, of course against her will, would
be forced to say what she knew; almost certainly it would result in a
quarrel between husband and wife, which might induce the former to show
his hand, or even to take some open step as regards Beatrice.
Pages:
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401