Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.
Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.
And let all the worries of the day drift away.
This is your time and your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
The Martyrdom of Estella Estella was waiting under the poplars at the gate for Spencer Morgan.
She was engaged to him and he always came to see her on Saturday and Wednesday evenings.
It was after sunset and the air was mellow and warm-hued.
The willow trees along the walk and the tall birches in the background stood out darkly distinct against the lemon-tinted sky.
The breath of mint floated out from the garden and the dew was falling heavily.
Estella leaned against the gate,
Listening for the sound of wheels and dreamily watching the light shining out from the view of Vivienne Lamar's room.
The blind was up and she could see Miss Lamar writing at her table.
Her profile was clear and distinct against the lamplight.
Estella reflected without the least envy that Miss Lamar was very beautiful.
She had never seen anyone who was really beautiful before.
Beautiful with the loveliness of the heroines and the novels,
She sometimes read all the pictures she had seen.
Estella Bowes was not pretty.
She was nice-looking,
With clear eyes,
Rosy cheeks and a pervading air of the content and happiness,
But she was an orphan and she lived with her uncle and aunt.
In the summer,
They sometimes took a board for a month or two and this summer Miss Lamar had come.
She had been with them about a week.
She was an actress from the city and had around her all the glamour of a strange,
Unknown life.
Nothing was known about her.
The Bowes liked her well enough as a boarder.
Estella admired and held her in awe.
She wondered what Spencer would think of this beautiful woman.
He had not yet seen her.
It was quite dark when he came.
Estella opened the gate,
But he got out of his buggy and walked up the lane beside her with his arm about her.
Miss Lamar's light had removed to the parlour where she was singing,
Accompanying herself on the organ.
Estella felt annoyed.
The parlour was considered her private domain on Wednesday and Saturday night.
But Miss Lamar did not know that.
Who is singing?
Asked Spencer.
What a voice!
That's our new boarder,
Miss Lamar,
Answered Estella.
She's an actress and sings and does everything.
She's awfully pretty.
Yes,
Said the young man.
He was not in the least interested in the Bowers' new boarder.
Indeed,
He considered her advent a nuisance.
He pressed Estella close to him,
And when they reached the garden gate,
He kissed her.
Estella always remembered that moment afterwards.
She was so supremely happy.
Then Spencer went off to put up his horse,
And she waited for him on the porch steps,
Wondering if any other girl in the world could be quite so happy as she was.
She did not see how it could be possible,
Because there was only one Spencer.
When he came back,
She took him into the parlour,
Half shyly,
Half proudly.
He was a handsome fellow with a magnificent physique.
Miss Lamar stopped singing and turned round on the organ stall.
The little room was flooded with mellow light from the pink globe lamp on the table,
And in the soft,
Shadowy radiance,
She was as beautiful as a dream.
She wore a dress of crepe cut low in the neck.
Estella had never seen anyone dressed so before.
To her,
It seemed immodest.
She introduced Spencer,
And he bowed awkwardly,
Then sat down stiffly by the window,
With his eyes riveted on Miss Lamar's face.
Estella,
Catching a glimpse of herself in the old-fashioned mirror above the mantle,
Suddenly felt a cold chill of dissatisfaction.
Vivien Lamar watched the two faces before her.
A hard gleam,
Half mockery,
Half malice,
Flashed into her eyes,
And a smile crept about her lips.
She looked straight in Spencer Morgan's honest blue eyes,
And read there the young man's dazzled admiration.
There was contempt in the look she turned on Estella.
"'You were singing when we came in,
' said Spencer.
"'Won't you go on?
I'm fond of music.
'" Miss Lamar turned again to the organ.
The gleaming curves of her neck and shoulders rose out of their filmy sheathings of lace.
Spencer,
Sitting where he could see her face with the rose-leaf bloom and ringlets of golden hair,
Gazed at her unheeding of alt-else.
Estella saw his look,
And she suddenly began to hate the black-eyed witch at the organ,
And to fear her as well.
Why did Spencer look at her like that?
She wished she had not brought him at all.
She felt commonplace in anger and wanted to cry.
Vivien Lamar went on singing,
Drifting from one sweet love song into another.
Once she looked up at Spencer Morgan.
He rose quickly and went to her side,
Looking down at her with a strange fire in his eyes.
Estella got up abruptly and left the room.
She was angry and jealous,
But she thought Spencer would follow her.
When he did not,
She could not believe it.
She waited on the porch,
Not knowing whether she were more angry or miserable.
She would not go back into that room.
Vivien Lamar had stopped singing.
She could hear a low murmur of voices.
When she waited there an hour,
She went in and upstairs to her room with ostentatious footsteps.
She was too angry to cry or realise what had happened,
And still kept hoping all sorts of impossible things as she sat by her window.
It was ten o'clock when Spencer went away,
And Vivien Lamar passed up the hall to her room.
Estella clenched her hands in an axis of helpless rage.
She was very angry,
But under her fury was a horrible ache of pain.
It could not be only three hours since she'd been so happy.
It must be more than that.
What had happened?
Had she made a fool of herself?
Ought she to have behaved in any other way?
Perhaps Spencer had come out to look for her after she'd gone upstairs.
This poor Hope was a small comfort.
She wished she had not acted as she had.
It looked spiteful and jealous,
And Spencer did not like people who were spiteful and jealous.
She would show him she was sorry when he came back,
And all would be right again.
The next day she rose and dressed in better spirits.
It had been hardest to lie there and do nothing,
But now the day was before her,
Something pleasant might happen.
Spencer might come back.
She would be doubly nice to him to make up for it.
Mrs.
Bowes looked sharply at her niece's dull eyes and pale cheeks at the breakfast table.
She had her own thoughts.
She was a large,
Handsome woman with a rather harsh face.
Did you go upstairs last night and leave Spencer Morgan with Miss Lamar?
She asked bluntly.
Yes,
Muttered Estella.
Did you have a quarrel with him?
No.
Then what made you act so queer?
I couldn't help it,
Thought the girl.
Miss Bowes gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.
I think it's a pretty queer piece of business.
But if you're satisfied,
It isn't anyone else's concern,
I suppose.
He stayed with her till ten o'clock,
And when he left,
She did everything but kiss him,
And she asked him to come back too.
Aunt,
Protested the girl.
Estella felt as if her aunt were striking her blow after blow with a knife.
On a sensitive,
Quivering spot.
It was bad enough to know it all,
But to hear it put into such cold,
Brutal words was more than she could endure.
I guess I had a right to listen,
Hadn't I?
Continued her aunt.
You're a little fool,
Estella Bowes.
I don't believe Lamar girl is better than you.
I wish I'd never taken her on to board.
And if you say so,
I'll send her packing right off and not give her a chance to make mischief between folks.
Estella's suffering found vent in a burst of anger.
You needn't do anything of the sort,
She cried.
No nonsense about Spencer.
It was my fault,
And anyhow,
If he's so easily led away as that,
I'm sure I don't want him.
I wish to goodness aunt you'd leave me alone.
Very well,
Returned Mrs.
Bowes,
In an offended tone.
It was for your own good.
You know best,
I suppose,
If you don't care,
I don't care.
Don't know that anybody else need care.
Estella went about her work like one in a dream.
A great hatred had sprung up in her heart against Vivian Lamar.
The simple-hearted country girl felt almost murderous,
And the whole day seemed like a nightmare to her.
That night,
She lay staring wide eyes through the darkness until dawn.
She wished she might cry,
But no tears came to her relief.
The next day,
She went to work with furious energy.
When her usual tasks were done,
She ransacked the house for other employment.
She was afraid if she stopped work for a moment,
She would go mad.
Mrs.
Bowes watched her with a grim pity.
At night,
Estella walked to prayer meeting in the schoolhouse a mile away.
Spencer was not there.
She wished she had not come.
It was dreadful to have to sit and think.
She did not hear a word the minister said.
Then she had to walk home with a crowd of girls and nerve herself to answer their merry sallies that no one might suspect.
She was tortured by the fear everyone knew her shame and humiliation and was pitying her.
She got hysterically gay,
But underneath all,
She was constantly trying to assign a satisfactory reason for Spencer's non-appearance.
He was often kept away,
And he was a little cross at her yet.
It was natural.
But if he had come before her then,
She could have gone down in the very dust at his feet and implored his forgiveness.
When she reached home,
She went into the garden and sat down.
The calm of the night soothed her,
And she felt happier and more hopeful.
She was almost at ease when at last she went in.
The next morning,
She thought,
Tomorrow is Sunday,
And her step was lighter and face brighter.
Mrs Bowers seemed to be in a bad humour though.
Presently,
She said,
Do you know Spencer Morgan was here last night?
Spencer,
Here?
Said Estella.
I suppose he forgot it was prayer meeting.
What did he say?
Why didn't you tell him where I was?
I don't know he forgot it was prayer meeting.
Miss Lamar entertained him.
I guess she was quite capable of it.
Estella bent over her dishes in silence.
Her face was deadly white.
I'll send her away,
Said Mrs Bowers.
When she's gone,
Spencer will come back to you.
No,
You won't,
Said Estella fiercely.
If you do,
She'll only go over to the barstows,
And it'll be worse than ever.
I don't care.
I'll show them both I don't care.
And as for Spencer coming back to me,
Do you think I want her leavings?
He's welcome to go.
He's just fooled by her pretty face,
Persisted Miss Bowers in a clumsy effort at consolation.
She's turning his head,
The arsey.
He isn't really in his proper senses,
You'll see.
Aunt,
Estella faced around.
You mean well,
I know,
But you're killing me.
I can't stand it.
For pity's sake,
Don't say another word about this,
No matter what happens.
And don't keep looking at me as if I were a martyr.
She watches us,
And it will please her to think I cared.
I don't,
And I mean she'll see I don't.
I'm just as well rid of a fellow as fickle as he is,
And I have sense enough to know it.
Then Estella ran upstairs,
Tearing off her turquoise engagement ring as she climbed.
All sorts of wild ideas flashed through her head.
She would go down and confront Vivienne Lamar.
She would rush off and find Spencer and throw his ring at him,
No matter where he was.
Why couldn't she die?
Was it possible people could suffer like this?
And yet go on living?
I don't care,
She moaned,
Telling the lie aloud to herself,
As if she hoped that by this means she would come to believe it.
When twilight came,
She went out to the front steps and leaned her aching head against the honeysuckle trellis.
The sun had just set,
And the whole world swam in dusky golden light.
The wonderful beauty frightened her.
She felt like a blot on it.
While she stood there,
A buggy came driving up the lane and wheeled about at the steps.
It was Spencer Morgan.
In spite of the maddening throb of hope that seemed suddenly to transfigure the world for Estella,
Her pride rose in arms.
Had he come the night before,
He would have found her loving and humble,
Even now,
Had she but been sure he'd come to see her,
She would have unbent.
But had he come to see her?
Do you care to come for a drive?
He asked awkwardly,
With a covered glance at the parlour windows.
Estella caught the glance,
And her jealous perception instantly divined its true significance.
Her heart died.
She did not care what he said.
Oh!
She cried with a toss of her head.
It's not me you want,
It's Miss Lamar,
Isn't it?
She's away at the shore.
You'll find her there,
I dare say.
Still in spite of it all,
She perversely hoped.
If he would only make any sign,
The least in the world he was sorry,
That he still loved her,
She could forgive him everything.
If he drove away without another word,
She would not be able to believe it.
Surely he would not go.
Surely he knew she didn't mean it.
He would turn back before he got to the gate.
But Spencer did not.
She saw him disappear on the turn of the road.
She could not see if he took the shore lane,
But she was sure he would.
Estella was furious at herself for acting as she had done.
It was all her fault again.
If only he would give her another chance.
She was in her room when she heard the buggy again.
She knew it was Spencer,
And she knew he had brought Vivienne Lamar home.
Acting on a sudden,
Wild impulse,
She stepped out onto the landing and confronted her rival as she came up the stairs.
Miss Lamar,
Said Estella in a quivering voice.
What do you mean by all this?
You know I'm engaged to Spencer Morgan.
Really,
If you are engaged to the young man,
My dear,
I would advise you look after him more sharply.
He seems very willing to flirt,
I should say.
Then she passed on to her room with a malicious smile.
Estella believed the actress was merely deluding herself and Spencer for her own amusement.
She would never dream of marrying him,
She thought.
But one day in the weeks to come,
She was alone in the parlour,
Had lit the lamp and was listlessly arranging the little room,
Looking old and wall.
It occurred to her,
Vivienne Lamar might just marry him after all.
As she worked,
The door opened and Vivienne Lamar walked in,
Or rather reeled into the room.
Estella dropped the book she held and gazed at her.
Her face was flushed and her hair was wildly disordered.
Her eyes were glittering with an unearthly light and she was talking incoherently.
Estella began to laugh hysterically.
Vivienne Lamar was drunk.
This woman,
Whom Spencer Morgan worshipped,
Was laughing idiotically,
Talking wildly in a thick voice.
If he could but see her now.
Estella turned white with the passion of the wild idea that had come to her.
Spencer Morgan should see this woman in her true colours.
She lost no time.
Swiftly she left the room and locked the door.
Then she flung a shawl over her head and ran from the house.
She ran all the way.
I want Spencer,
She said when she arrived.
The elder woman stepped back in dumb amazement.
What could she want with him?
Miss Lamar is asking for you,
She said hoarsely when she saw him.
You are to come at once.
What's the matter?
Is she ill?
No,
She's not ill,
But she wants you,
Spencer.
Come at once.
She's in the parlour,
She said wildly when they got there.
Go in and look.
As Spencer entered,
The actress reeled to her feet and came to meet him.
She was reeking with brandy and uttering such foolish words.
He grew sick at heart.
She had her arms about him and he tried to push her away,
But she clung in closer and her senseless laughter echoed through the room.
He flung her from him with an effort and rushed out through the hall.
Miss Stella watched him,
Feeling as though she was avenged.
Vivienne Lamar left the cottage the next day.
The girl kept her own counsel stubbornly.
Estelle would say nothing.
And the interest and curiosity of the village was now centred around Spencer Morgan.
Gossip said the actress had jilted him and he was breaking his heart about her.
Then the rumour was that he was going west.
Estelle listened to it all apathetically.
Life was ended for her.
There was nothing to look forward to and she could not even look back.
Did Spencer think her unwomanly and revengeful?
Well,
She did not care.
It was rather a relief to hear he was going away.
She would not be tortured by the fear of meeting him.
She was sure he would never come back and if he did,
She would never forgive him.
One evening in early harvest,
Estelle was lingering by the lane gate at twilight.
She had worked slavishly all day and was very tired.
But she was loath to go into the house where her trouble always seemed to weigh on her more heavily.
She leaned her head against the poplar by the gate.
How long Spencer Morgan had been standing by her,
She did not know.
But when she looked up,
He was there.
In the dim light,
She could see how haggard and hollow eyed he had grown.
He had changed almost as much as herself.
I couldn't go away without seeing you once more,
Estelle,
To say goodbye.
Perhaps you won't speak to me?
You must hate me and I deserve it.
I know you can never forgive me.
No girl could.
I behave like a fool.
There isn't any excuse to be made for that.
I can't bear to live here any longer anyway,
So I'm going away.
Will you say goodbye,
Estelle?
Still,
Estelle did not speak.
There were a hundred things she wanted to say,
But she could not say even one of them.
Did this mean Spence loved her still?
If she was sure of that,
She could forgive him anything.
But her doubt rendered her mute.
He had brought his fate on himself and he turned away.
But he had gone just a few steps when Estelle suddenly found her voice.
Spencer?
Spencer?
He came swiftly back.
Do you love me still?
He caught her hands in his.
I always have.
That other thing,
That other thing was just madness.
When it passed,
I hated it because I'd lost you.
I was so stupid.
I know you can't forgive me,
But.
Then to her surprise,
He broke down and Estella flung her arms around his neck and put her face up to his.
She felt as if her heart must break with its great happiness.
And Spencer understood her mute pardon.
In their kiss,
The past was immediately put aside.
And Estella's martyrdom was finally over.
