THE TRAGEDY OF LIME HALL.

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume X, Issue 882, 24 January 1891, Page 2

THE TRAGEDY OF LIME HALL.

Marriages a^^^^HkMesj the most unsuitable, the^^^^^Vatched people seem fo cotne t^^HHV cannot beiieye -, the old-fashio^^^Hj Mat marriages, 1 least trace of any thing celestial m the; greater part MiliejqE. ; Bqt no single one; ha? eF^r puzzle M an so greatly as this un.ion>betWt;e^;,^![L-an4 s^E r a» Chatcote. ; wera'nibi^uiisuiie'd, tuey had riot a taste nor an idea m common, He was noble, ijeneron^jaml : fiettsisiv,ej, : sh'ja r was'essentially mean, viand unfeeling*. H ; was highly edt^bated; sh» lUl.asinutter^ ing of all tiie acfaornijtisUnientSj an-l know little of any. l^ie/w^ well Vedlj' she was profoundly ignbraht. ' Hie'^as above all worldly nonsens^ never cringed to a wealthier man, i\<>v would hare flattered a kin.?; she would have submitted to any humiliition to jha?e been received into what she really iallod his? h society. His life was spent m one long aspiration afterr uigher, nobler, aul better things; her* m one long si^h after a more important position m society and more money. Hearts, minds, and souls more opposite could not have been found. He was cheerful, inclined to take a bright view of everything; she was queiulous, des-, ponding, peevish, and silly. In vain did I ask myself how sue had charmed a man like him. It might have been that years ago, when ahe was m , the -I first z a nith uf her youth, she was beautiful. Perhaps the fresh, youthful beauty fifed , attracted him, and he had .lost his heart to it. Of that fresh; ,beauiy hardly any trace now remained* . '.-'''-' '; ' : ' They must have beeai.very unhappy, , ■Mr Chatcote especially, I can never remember hearing her say one rational , word ; her conversation consisted entirely of invectives against everyone richer than herself, and. envious descriptions df^othjef | people's balls, dressesi and jewera, knew of no greater pain than spendij\* j& evening with her—it w4s; torture. I did not wonder, tliere!ore^t)Qat^e|a,y.oid^4 it when be couldf' " : ;J f ♦ till J. v i O I cannot imagine how he bore the life, They might have been v^ry comfortable; his inaomejyas, libilie^ej a little over a thousand per annum. " They ttxight?? have' lived m a substantial co^n"try hpUse, and have given the children a* gooU'education, ' bave kept a good tabln, and have enjoyed themselves; but eve|y|hing vrajßacrific.ed to sliow— th a - advarffci^e of rational comfort were the last things Mrs Chatcote, ever cousilere ; |. Sfiemust live aFter the samerate a§ : per3pni|Wlio had five or ten thousand a year; sh^ mast give balls, for which the family Ijvdd on cold mutton ant rice for weeks afier^vardsi, she: must, dress as jadies'of higli" junk dressed; m short!, there was no injd tocher greten sions. Strange to3av,|by ilmt'of flattery, preseverance, and .cpiratantly keeping up appearances, she had |^ide'Bo:ne footing m society. The pretty and exolusivt* Ooiictess of .Mursfe^s ? -a^noniie*'T6 her; Lady Biano'v He^ierlighana'bad invited her to some of her be^ balls. She was slowly but stfrely.-raakisig . l^r way; how she shoul I maintun her position m that kind of society when she had established tyrieif (^ tirM sot Ism*

Mrs Satton was an. old friend and school -fellow. She had married a man whose incorre was large, but who had no pretensuns to aristocracy. Mrs Sutton herself wns a baronet's niece; between her and Mrs Cbatcote there wag the most deadly rivalry. Mrs Sutton generally came off conqueror, because she had plenty of money and Sjw Chatcote had very little, -i ] The life she led us over Lady Nicholls's ball was something terrible. Mr Ohatcote made his escape whenever ifc was possible; the whole burden then fell upon me. I may be thankful that I had been gifted with some sense of the comic. £ saw the ridiculous side of She matter, md that helped me through. One evening whenJ; was with Mrs Chatcote, Mrs Satton called, and I saw the rival force m battle array-— it was >raall^^ite as amusing as a play. Mrs Sutton seated herself with ah air of weariness, so osten«« sibly meant to be noticed that Mrs Ghatcote was compelled, m pQlJ&ejigggj^o in* quire if sheielt fatigued. ■■"* Mrs Sutton leaned back with an air of one about to enjoy herself. ""*** 'I am very tired, I am quite worn out with preparations for the ball. As it is to be the grandest affairever known m Brighton, lam determined not to ba behind others,' . ; - , rr Mis Chatcore's face gisw lark with envy. ■^n,;^ 'A ball is but a bail/ eshe^ replied. ' [ cannot see wtiy such; att ith pafansu preuation is required.' '"■ /> V; 3-j \[ 'Report says/ cotiHh"ue^ 7: Ker rival, •that two. ladies of the royal u fl?hiily are to be preseiiltl l flSj|itUrue, do suppose?' Mrs Ohatcote, who would have given »er right hand for an invitatidn,/pretended ro treat it with the most ' iieVfjtet indifference;. „'.."";"' 'Vn I''Mr Sutton. makes „quiKe sl an absurb fuss about my going/ continued Mrs pulton ; 'he has actually? sen^ some of ,-uy diamonls to London- to be >'e-set.' ■, »I do not. doubt that icareems a very jreat affair to him/ said Mrs r Chatcote, vvith the most delicate' sarcasm. 'I could not get up a rapture pv^f Brighton jails'^ 'My husband is most^uprernely - indifferent/ ■•••■■ «;^W ; .,«,But surely,' interrupted [Jfrs Sutton, Vyqa have received invitatidtos ? Yoa - are going?' ' '-'■■■ lj s-.f* : She^kn^w.pprfectly w|^lflie truth of tho matter. .is\ii they w|re^ friends— do 'you not ' a«e ?; — rand ; whak f^end could resist the opportunity ;«;§£> stabbing another? ; . ; >m>i;tej:> :_. * No, I think not,' said< : Mfs Ohatcofce, husband; takes ntypterest m balls,* ; 'Yet you give them I' Mrs Suttoa retorted quickly, , 'Society obliges its leader 3to do things of |that kind;/? one is not tbsolutely compelled %6 4ffc^all that one is forced to do.' ;;That was just as much as Mrs Sutfcon could bear. She roaa^ saying that she jMk^-Wtfiiigag^ent. M^viofes^-^rc.^ shorn of iis triumpVoyT^gTnanner m whioh her friend had' met 'her. When she was gonefMrs Chatcota turned to me, aritl ' if i! e^;er a face was Meforraed with ehyy aiid: her's ;[ * I have to . subnait - to^this kind of thing/ she said ; * tot he.patronage and insult of such a woman~?if the daughter of Sir Trentam fjinge— iit is unbearable ; and all because my'hui^banM is so sapina, so different, so— so^crimimjlly neglectful of th« interest of his faraffy, so wanting m his proper pride .' I did venture to ask what he could have done under the oircumsiances. * Anything/ she replied, *He might hare contrived some way or another of getting the :uivita;ti<fa : ||or me, if ha would .' Fortunately for all 6P"us, m the morn* ing cards came from Lady Nicholls—* the invititions had merelyf been 'clayed* .Then great was Mrs Cftalcote's triumph, , How mercilessly she displayed her pretended indifference to Mrs Sutton, merely to humiliate her by the contrast with her own great anxiety. . I dwell on these trifling details ia order that you, my reader, may unler- , stand her character ; the vanity, the foolish ambition, the envy, that made her afterwards what she was. The more I saw of MV Ohatcote the better I liked him, and the deeper grew tny compassion. There can be no greater torture than the sufferings of a man joined for life to a foolish, rair^. woman. How nobly he endured hiTg -Mai. He seldom lost patience with her, Jj "heveE^tt..,'.pi)i|a[.ar4 fashion ; but there were, times w.h^n I felt sure that h8 must* be inwardly raging. He never reproached her ; perhaps he found out hswj v|»«| ( ffliat was^f When he tt^ald 1 kindly he'^d so; whei^ be could not he bore with her folly. ---Though he was so brave, so patient, one could see that lieiliad lost all dope, almost all interest j[n life. He was warmly attached children, but they were too young' to be companions for him. The' insfcan^ he^eiUered the house he wpuld meet vvillf a storm of reproaches, or tears, or ex{)ostulafcion3. Why bad he nob done this? Why had he not been to suc'h.a.-pkce ? I used to look ■at -him and think of the.. dear, gentio Colonel Ncwcome under the lash of Mrs >— Mackenzie's tongue," and my heart acliffcl for. the brave and patient gentleman who* was daily and. ■, poorly tortured by the folly and vanity of a weak, foolish woman. I often wondered what made aim so patient ; whether .it* was that Mo rkept lruhifl m.in.J. jjflroa memory of t'he . rresli young beauty ho had lovod, /or whether tie remembered the ideal thai he had dreamed of. ' Ifybu-would be persuaded, Sophy/ lie said to her one day when she was agitating *bout giriug a ffaml timing

viing bi tbeKind ever-attempted by Mrs I " fiatton, ' If you could be persuaded, and keep a better table for the children, if you woald let us have more comfort at home and less show, I should be very jnuch pleased.' ; How did he bear the storm that| his own words drew about his own devoted head '.' He cared nothins: for his family, he never thought of their interest, he was content with any obscurity 1 Verily, if Solomon had heard her, he would have given the world some wise and great saying concerning n woman's tongue ! Was it any wonder that when she had railed, wept, stormed, for many hours, he 'gave m? The party was arranged, and we starved m the most genteel and approved way for three weeks afterwards.