The Purcell Papers — Volume 2 Read online

  Produced by Judith Boss and Charles Keller

  THE PURCELL PAPERS.

  BY THE LATE

  JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU,

  AUTHOR OF 'UNCLE SILAS.'

  With a Memoir by

  ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES

  IN THREE VOLUMES.

  VOL. II.

  CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

  PASSAGE IN THE SECRET HISTORY OF AN IRISH COUNTESS THE BRIDAL OF CARRIGVARAH STRANGE EVENT IN THE LIFE OF SCHALKEN THE PAINTER SCRAPS OF HIBERNIAN BALLADS

  PASSAGE IN THE SECRET HISTORY OF AN IRISH COUNTESS.

  Being a Fifth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.

  The following paper is written in a female hand, and was no doubtcommunicated to my much-regretted friend by the lady whose early historyit serves to illustrate, the Countess D----. She is no more--she longsince died, a childless and a widowed wife, and, as her letter sadlypredicts, none survive to whom the publication of this narrative canprove 'injurious, or even painful.' Strange! two powerful and wealthyfamilies, that in which she was born, and that into which she hadmarried, have ceased to be--they are utterly extinct.

  To those who know anything of the history of Irish families, as theywere less than a century ago, the facts which immediately follow willat once suggest THE NAMES of the principal actors; and to otherstheir publication would be useless--to us, possibly, if not probably,injurious. I have, therefore, altered such of the names as might, ifstated, get us into difficulty; others, belonging to minor characters inthe strange story, I have left untouched.

  My dear friend,--You have asked me to furnish you with a detail ofthe strange events which marked my early history, and I have, withouthesitation, applied myself to the task, knowing that, while I live, akind consideration for my feelings will prevent your giving publicityto the statement; and conscious that, when I am no more, there will notsurvive one to whom the narrative can prove injurious, or even painful.

  My mother died when I was quite an infant, and of her I have norecollection, even the faintest. By her death, my education and habitswere left solely to the guidance of my surviving parent; and, as faras a stern attention to my religious instruction, and an active anxietyevinced by his procuring for me the best masters to perfect me in thoseaccomplishments which my station and wealth might seem to require, couldavail, he amply discharged the task.

  My father was what is called an oddity, and his treatment of me, thoughuniformly kind, flowed less from affection and tenderness than from asense of obligation and duty. Indeed, I seldom even spoke to him exceptat meal-times, and then his manner was silent and abrupt; his leisurehours, which were many, were passed either in his study or in solitarywalks; in short, he seemed to take no further interest in my happinessor improvement than a conscientious regard to the discharge of his ownduty would seem to claim.

  Shortly before my birth a circumstance had occurred which hadcontributed much to form and to confirm my father's secluded habits--itwas the fact that a suspicion of MURDER had fallen upon his youngerbrother, though not sufficiently definite to lead to an indictment, yetstrong enough to ruin him in public opinion.

  This disgraceful and dreadful doubt cast upon the family name, myfather felt deeply and bitterly, and not the less so that he himselfwas thoroughly convinced of his brother's innocence. The sincerity andstrength of this impression he shortly afterwards proved in a mannerwhich produced the dark events which follow. Before, however, I enterupon the statement of them, I ought to relate the circumstances whichhad awakened the suspicion; inasmuch as they are in themselves somewhatcurious, and, in their effects, most intimately connected with myafter-history.

  My uncle, Sir Arthur T----n, was a gay and extravagant man, and,among other vices, was ruinously addicted to gaming; this unfortunatepropensity, even after his fortune had suffered so severely as to renderinevitable a reduction in his expenses by no means inconsiderable,nevertheless continued to actuate him, nearly to the exclusion of allother pursuits; he was, however, a proud, or rather a vain man,and could not bear to make the diminution of his income a matter ofgratulation and triumph to those with whom he had hitherto competed, andthe consequence was, that he frequented no longer the expensive hauntsof dissipation, and retired from the gay world, leaving his coterie todiscover his reasons as best they might.

  He did not, however, forego his favourite vice, for, though he could notworship his great divinity in the costly temples where it was formerlyhis wont to take his stand, yet he found it very possible to bring abouthim a sufficient number of the votaries of chance to answer all hisends. The consequence was, that Carrickleigh, which was the name of myuncle's residence, was never without one or more of such visitors as Ihave described.

  It happened that upon one occasion he was visited by one Hugh Tisdall,a gentleman of loose habits, but of considerable wealth, and who had, inearly youth, travelled with my uncle upon the Continent; the period ofhis visit was winter, and, consequently, the house was nearly desertedexcepting by its regular inmates; it was therefore highly acceptable,particularly as my uncle was aware that his visitor's tastes accordedexactly with his own.

  Both parties seemed determined to avail themselves of their suitabilityduring the brief stay which Mr. Tisdall had promised; the consequencewas, that they shut themselves up in Sir Arthur's private room fornearly all the day and the greater part of the night, during the spaceof nearly a week, at the end of which the servant having one morning,as usual, knocked at Mr. Tisdall's bedroom door repeatedly, received noanswer, and, upon attempting to enter, found that it was locked; thisappeared suspicious, and, the inmates of the house having been alarmed,the door was forced open, and, on proceeding to the bed, they found thebody of its occupant perfectly lifeless, and hanging half-way out, thehead downwards, and near the floor. One deep wound had been inflictedupon the temple, apparently with some blunt instrument which hadpenetrated the brain; and another blow, less effective, probably thefirst aimed, had grazed the head, removing some of the scalp, butleaving the skull untouched. The door had been double-locked upon theINSIDE, in evidence of which the key still lay where it had been placedin the lock.

  The window, though not secured on the interior, was closed--acircumstance not a little puzzling, as it afforded the only other modeof escape from the room; it looked out, too, upon a kind of courtyard,round which the old buildings stood, formerly accessible by a narrowdoorway and passage lying in the oldest side of the quadrangle, butwhich had since been built up, so as to preclude all ingress or egress;the room was also upon the second story, and the height of the windowconsiderable. Near the bed were found a pair of razors belonging to themurdered man, one of them upon the ground, and both of them open. Theweapon which had inflicted the mortal wound was not to be found inthe room, nor were any footsteps or other traces of the murdererdiscoverable.

  At the suggestion of Sir Arthur himself, a coroner was instantlysummoned to attend, and an inquest was held; nothing, however, in anydegree conclusive was elicited; the walls, ceiling, and floor ofthe room were carefully examined, in order to ascertain whether theycontained a trap-door or other concealed mode of entrance--but no suchthing appeared.

  Such was the minuteness of investigation employed, that, although thegrate had contained a large fire during the night, they proceeded toexamine even the very chimney, in order to discover whether escape byit were possible; but this attempt, too, was fruitless, for the chimney,built in the old fashion, rose in a perfectly perpendicular line fromthe hearth to a height of nearly fourteen feet above the roof, affordingin its interior scarcely the possibility of ascent, the flue beingsmoothly plastered, and sloping towards the top like an inverted funnel,pro
mising, too, even if the summit were attained, owing to its greatheight, but a precarious descent upon the sharp and steep-ridged roof;the ashes, too, which lay in the grate, and the soot, as far as itcould be seen, were undisturbed, a circumstance almost conclusive of thequestion.

  Sir Arthur was of course examined; his evidence was given with clearnessand unreserve, which seemed calculated to silence all suspicion.He stated that, up to the day and night immediately preceding thecatastrophe, he had lost to a heavy amount, but that, at their lastsitting, he had not only won back his original loss, but upwards offour thousand pounds in addition; in evidence of which he producedan acknowledgment of debt to that amount in the handwriting of thedeceased, and bearing the date of the fatal night. He had mentionedthe circumstance to his lady, and in presence of some of the domestics;which statement was supported by THEIR respective evidence.

  One of the jury shrewdly observed, that the circumstance of Mr.Tisdall's having sustained so heavy a loss might have suggested to someill-minded persons accidentally hearing it, the plan of robbing him,after having murdered him in such a manner as might make it appear thathe had committed suicide; a supposition which was strongly supportedby the razors having been found thus displaced, and removed from theircase. Two persons had probably been engaged in the attempt, one watchingby the sleeping man, and ready to strike him in case of his awakeningsuddenly, while the other was procuring the razors and employed ininflicting the fatal gash, so as to make it appear to have been the actof the murdered man himself. It was said that while the juror was makingthis suggestion Sir Arthur changed colour.

  Nothing, however, like legal evidence appeared against him, and theconsequence was that the verdict was found against a person or personsunknown; and for some time the matter was suffered to rest, until, afterabout five months, my father received a letter from a person signinghimself Andrew Collis, and representing himself to be the cousin of thedeceased. This letter stated that Sir Arthur was likely to incur notmerely suspicion, but personal risk, unless he could account for certaincircumstances connected with the recent murder, and contained a copy ofa letter written by the deceased, and bearing date, the day of the week,and of the month, upon the night of which the deed of blood had beenperpetrated. Tisdall's note ran as follows:

  'DEAR COLLIS, 'I have had sharp work with SirArthur; he tried some of his stale tricks, but soon found that _I_ wasYorkshire too: it would not do--you understand me. We went to the worklike good ones, head, heart and soul; and, in fact, since I came here, Ihave lost no time. I am rather fagged, but I am sure to be well paidfor my hardship; I never want sleep so long as I can have the music of adice-box, and wherewithal to pay the piper. As I told you, he tried someof his queer turns, but I foiled him like a man, and, in return, gavehim more than he could relish of the genuine DEAD KNOWLEDGE.

  'In short, I have plucked the old baronet as never baronet was pluckedbefore; I have scarce left him the stump of a quill; I have gotpromissory notes in his hand to the amount of--if you like roundnumbers, say, thirty thousand pounds, safely deposited in my portablestrong-box, alias double-clasped pocket-book. I leave this ruinous oldrat-hole early on to-morrow, for two reasons--first, I do not want toplay with Sir Arthur deeper than I think his security, that is, hismoney, or his money's worth, would warrant; and, secondly, because I amsafer a hundred miles from Sir Arthur than in the house with him. Lookyou, my worthy, I tell you this between ourselves--I may be wrong, but,by G--, I am as sure as that I am now living, that Sir A---- attemptedto poison me last night; so much for old friendship on both sides.

  'When I won the last stake, a heavy one enough, my friend leant hisforehead upon his hands, and you'll laugh when I tell you that hishead literally smoked like a hot dumpling. I do not know whether hisagitation was produced by the plan which he had against me, or by hishaving lost so heavily--though it must be allowed that he had reason tobe a little funked, whichever way his thoughts went; but he pulledthe bell, and ordered two bottles of champagne. While the fellow wasbringing them he drew out a promissory note to the full amount, which hesigned, and, as the man came in with the bottles and glasses, he desiredhim to be off; he filled out a glass for me, and, while he thought myeyes were off, for I was putting up his note at the time, he droppedsomething slyly into it, no doubt to sweeten it; but I saw it all, and,when he handed it to me, I said, with an emphasis which he might ormight not understand:

  '"There is some sediment in this; I'll not drink it."

  '"Is there?" said he, and at the same time snatched it from my hand andthrew it into the fire. What do you think of that? have I not a tenderchicken to manage? Win or lose, I will not play beyond five thousandto-night, and to-morrow sees me safe out of the reach of Sir Arthur'schampagne. So, all things considered, I think you must allow that youare not the last who have found a knowing boy in

  'Yours to command,

  'HUGH TISDALL.'

  Of the authenticity of this document I never heard my father express adoubt; and I am satisfied that, owing to his strong conviction infavour of his brother, he would not have admitted it without sufficientinquiry, inasmuch as it tended to confirm the suspicions which alreadyexisted to his prejudice.

  Now, the only point in this letter which made strongly against my uncle,was the mention of the 'double-clasped pocket-book' as the receptacleof the papers likely to involve him, for this pocket-book was notforthcoming, nor anywhere to be found, nor had any papers referring tohis gaming transactions been found upon the dead man. However, whatevermight have been the original intention of this Collis, neither my unclenor my father ever heard more of him; but he published the letter inFaulkner's newspaper, which was shortly afterwards made the vehicle ofa much more mysterious attack. The passage in that periodical to whichI allude, occurred about four years afterwards, and while the fataloccurrence was still fresh in public recollection. It commenced by arambling preface, stating that 'a CERTAIN PERSON whom CERTAIN personsthought to be dead, was not so, but living, and in full possessionof his memory, and moreover ready and able to make GREAT delinquentstremble.' It then went on to describe the murder, without, however,mentioning names; and in doing so, it entered into minute andcircumstantial particulars of which none but an EYE-WITNESS couldhave been possessed, and by implications almost too unequivocal to beregarded in the light of insinuation, to involve the 'TITLED GAMBLER' inthe guilt of the transaction.

  My father at once urged Sir Arthur to proceed against the paper in anaction of libel; but he would not hear of it, nor consent to my father'staking any legal steps whatever in the matter. My father, however, wrotein a threatening tone to Faulkner, demanding a surrender of the authorof the obnoxious article. The answer to this application is still inmy possession, and is penned in an apologetic tone: it states thatthe manuscript had been handed in, paid for, and inserted as anadvertisement, without sufficient inquiry, or any knowledge as to whomit referred.

  No step, however, was taken to clear my uncle's character in thejudgment of the public; and as he immediately sold a small property, theapplication of the proceeds of which was known to none, he was saidto have disposed of it to enable himself to buy off the threatenedinformation. However the truth might have been, it is certain that nocharges respecting the mysterious murder were afterwards publicly madeagainst my uncle, and, as far as external disturbances were concerned,he enjoyed henceforward perfect security and quiet.

  A deep and lasting impression, however, had been made upon the publicmind, and Sir Arthur T----n was no longer visited or noticed by thegentry and aristocracy of the county, whose attention and courtesieshe had hitherto received. He accordingly affected to despise theseenjoyments which he could not procure, and shunned even that societywhich he might have commanded.

  This is all that I need recapitulate of my uncle's history, and I nowrecur to my own. Although my father had never, within my recollection,visited, or been visited by, my uncle, each being of sedentary,procrastinating, and secluded habits, and their respective residencesbei
ng very far apart--the one lying in the county of Galway, the otherin that of Cork--he was strongly attached to his brother, and evincedhis affection by an active correspondence, and by deeply and proudlyresenting that neglect which had marked Sir Arthur as unfit to mix insociety.

  When I was about eighteen years of age, my father, whose health had beengradually declining, died, leaving me in heart wretched and desolate,and, owing to his previous seclusion, with few acquaintances, and almostno friends.

  The provisions of his will were curious, and when I had sufficientlycome to myself to listen to or comprehend them, surprised me not alittle: all his vast property was left to me, and to the heirs of mybody, for ever; and, in default of such heirs, it was to go after mydeath to my uncle, Sir Arthur, without any entail.

  At the same time, the will appointed him my guardian, desiring thatI might be received within his house, and reside with his family, andunder his care, during the term of my minority; and in consideration ofthe increased expense consequent upon such an arrangement, a handsomeannuity was allotted to him during the term of my proposed residence.

  The object of this last provision I at once understood: my fatherdesired, by making it the direct, apparent interest of Sir Arthur that Ishould die without issue, while at the same time he placed me whollyin his power, to prove to the world how great and unshaken was hisconfidence in his brother's innocence and honour, and also to affordhim an opportunity of showing that this mark of confidence was notunworthily bestowed.

  It was a strange, perhaps an idle scheme; but as I had been alwaysbrought up in the habit of considering my uncle as a deeply-injured man,and had been taught, almost as a part of my religion, to regard him asthe very soul of honour, I felt no further uneasiness respecting thearrangement than that likely to result to a timid girl, of secludedhabits, from the immediate prospect of taking up her abode for the firsttime in her life among total strangers. Previous to leaving my home,which I felt I should do with a heavy heart, I received a most tenderand affectionate letter from my uncle, calculated, if anything could doso, to remove the bitterness of parting from scenes familiar and dearfrom my earliest childhood, and in some degree to reconcile me to themeasure.

  It was during a fine autumn that I approached the old domain ofCarrickleigh. I shall not soon forget the impression of sadness andof gloom which all that I saw produced upon my mind; the sunbeams werefalling with a rich and melancholy tint upon the fine old trees, whichstood in lordly groups, casting their long, sweeping shadows over rockand sward. There was an air of neglect and decay about the spot, whichamounted almost to desolation; the symptoms of this increased in numberas we approached the building itself, near which the ground had beenoriginally more artificially and carefully cultivated than elsewhere,and whose neglect consequently more immediately and strikingly betrayeditself.

  As we proceeded, the road wound near the beds of what had been formallytwo fish-ponds, which were now nothing more than stagnant swamps,overgrown with rank weeds, and here and there encroached upon by thestraggling underwood; the avenue itself was much broken, and in manyplaces the stones were almost concealed by grass and nettles; the loosestone walls which had here and there intersected the broad park were,in many places, broken down, so as no longer to answer their originalpurpose as fences; piers were now and then to be seen, but the gateswere gone; and, to add to the general air of dilapidation, some hugetrunks were lying scattered through the venerable old trees, either thework of the winter storms, or perhaps the victims of some extensive butdesultory scheme of denudation, which the projector had not capital orperseverance to carry into full effect.

  After the carriage had travelled a mile of this avenue, we reached thesummit of rather an abrupt eminence, one of the many which added to thepicturesqueness, if not to the convenience of this rude passage. Fromthe top of this ridge the grey walls of Carrickleigh were visible,rising at a small distance in front, and darkened by the hoarywood which crowded around them. It was a quadrangular building ofconsiderable extent, and the front which lay towards us, and in whichthe great entrance was placed, bore unequivocal marks of antiquity; thetime-worn, solemn aspect of the old building, the ruinous and desertedappearance of the whole place, and the associations which connectedit with a dark page in the history of my family, combined to depressspirits already predisposed for the reception of sombre and dejectingimpressions.

  When the carriage drew up in the grass-grown court yard before thehall-door, two lazy-looking men, whose appearance well accorded withthat of the place which they tenanted, alarmed by the obstreperousbarking of a great chained dog, ran out from some half-ruinousout-houses, and took charge of the horses; the hall-door stood open, andI entered a gloomy and imperfectly lighted apartment, and found no onewithin. However, I had not long to wait in this awkward predicament, forbefore my luggage had been deposited in the house, indeed, before Ihad well removed my cloak and other wraps, so as to enable me to lookaround, a young girl ran lightly into the hall, and kissing me heartily,and somewhat boisterously, exclaimed:

  'My dear cousin, my dear Margaret--I am so delighted--so out of breath.We did not expect you till ten o'clock; my father is somewhere about theplace, he must be close at hand. James--Corney--run out and tellyour master--my brother is seldom at home, at least at any reasonablehour--you must be so tired--so fatigued--let me show you to yourroom--see that Lady Margaret's luggage is all brought up--you must liedown and rest yourself--Deborah, bring some coffee--up these stairs;we are so delighted to see you--you cannot think how lonely I havebeen--how steep these stairs are, are not they? I am so glad you arecome--I could hardly bring myself to believe that you were reallycoming--how good of you, dear Lady Margaret.'

  There was real good-nature and delight in my cousin's greeting, and akind of constitutional confidence of manner which placed me at once atease, and made me feel immediately upon terms of intimacy with her. Theroom into which she ushered me, although partaking in the general air ofdecay which pervaded the mansion and all about it, had nevertheless beenfitted up with evident attention to comfort, and even with some dingyattempt at luxury; but what pleased me most was that it opened, bya second door, upon a lobby which communicated with my fair cousin'sapartment; a circumstance which divested the room, in my eyes, of theair of solitude and sadness which would otherwise have characterised it,to a degree almost painful to one so dejected in spirits as I was.

  After such arrangements as I found necessary were completed, we bothwent down to the parlour, a large wainscoted room, hung round with grimold portraits, and, as I was not sorry to see, containing in its amplegrate a large and cheerful fire. Here my cousin had leisure to talk moreat her ease; and from her I learned something of the manners and thehabits of the two remaining members of her family, whom I had not yetseen.

  On my arrival I had known nothing of the family among whom I was come toreside, except that it consisted of three individuals, my uncle, and hisson and daughter, Lady T----n having been long dead. In addition tothis very scanty stock of information, I shortly learned from mycommunicative companion that my uncle was, as I had suspected,completely retired in his habits, and besides that, having been so farback as she could well recollect, always rather strict, as reformedrakes frequently become, he had latterly been growing more gloomily andsternly religious than heretofore.

  Her account of her brother was far less favourable, though she did notsay anything directly to his disadvantage. From all that I could gatherfrom her, I was led to suppose that he was a specimen of the idle,coarse-mannered, profligate, low-minded 'squirearchy'--a result whichmight naturally have flowed from the circumstance of his being, as itwere, outlawed from society, and driven for companionship to gradesbelow his own--enjoying, too, the dangerous prerogative of spending muchmoney.

  However, you may easily suppose that I found nothing in my cousin'scommunication fully to bear me out in so very decided a conclusion.

  I awaited the arrival of my uncle, which was every moment to beexpected, with feelings hal
f of alarm, half of curiosity--a sensationwhich I have often since experienced, though to a less degree, when uponthe point of standing for the first time in the presence of one of whomI have long been in the habit of hearing or thinking with interest.

  It was, therefore, with some little perturbation that I heard, first aslight bustle at the outer door, then a slow step traverse the hall, andfinally witnessed the door open, and my uncle enter the room. He was astriking-looking man; from peculiarities both of person and of garb, thewhole effect of his appearance amounted to extreme singularity. He wastall, and when young his figure must have been strikingly elegant; as itwas, however, its effect was marred by a very decided stoop. His dresswas of a sober colour, and in fashion anterior to anything which I couldremember. It was, however, handsome, and by no means carelessly puton; but what completed the singularity of his appearance was his uncut,white hair, which hung in long, but not at all neglected curls, evenso far as his shoulders, and which combined with his regularly classicfeatures, and fine dark eyes, to bestow upon him an air of venerabledignity and pride, which I have never seen equalled elsewhere. I rose ashe entered, and met him about the middle of the room; he kissed my cheekand both my hands, saying:

  'You are most welcome, dear child, as welcome as the command of thispoor place and all that it contains can make you. I am most rejoiced tosee you--truly rejoiced. I trust that you are not much fatigued--praybe seated again.' He led me to my chair, and continued: 'I am glad toperceive you have made acquaintance with Emily already; I see, in yourbeing thus brought together, the foundation of a lasting friendship.You are both innocent, and both young. God bless you--God bless you, andmake you all that I could wish.'

  He raised his eyes, and remained for a few moments silent, as ifin secret prayer. I felt that it was impossible that this man, withfeelings so quick, so warm, so tender, could be the wretch that publicopinion had represented him to be. I was more than ever convinced of hisinnocence.

  His manner was, or appeared to me, most fascinating; there was a mingledkindness and courtesy in it which seemed to speak benevolence itself. Itwas a manner which I felt cold art could never have taught; it owed mostof its charm to its appearing to emanate directly from the heart; itmust be a genuine index of the owner's mind. So I thought.

  My uncle having given me fully to understand that I was most welcome,and might command whatever was his own, pressed me to take somerefreshment; and on my refusing, he observed that previously tobidding me good-night, he had one duty further to perform, one in whoseobservance he was convinced I would cheerfully acquiesce.

  He then proceeded to read a chapter from the Bible; after which he tookhis leave with the same affectionate kindness with which he had greetedme, having repeated his desire that I should consider everything in hishouse as altogether at my disposal. It is needless to say that I wasmuch pleased with my uncle--it was impossible to avoid being so; and Icould not help saying to myself, if such a man as this is not safe fromthe assaults of slander, who is? I felt much happier than I had donesince my father's death, and enjoyed that night the first refreshingsleep which had visited me since that event.

  My curiosity respecting my male cousin did not long remainunsatisfied--he appeared the next day at dinner. His manners, though notso coarse as I had expected, were exceedingly disagreeable; there was anassurance and a forwardness for which I was not prepared; there was lessof the vulgarity of manner, and almost more of that of the mind, than Ihad anticipated. I felt quite uncomfortable in his presence; there wasjust that confidence in his look and tone which would read encouragementeven in mere toleration; and I felt more disgusted and annoyed at thecoarse and extravagant compliments which he was pleased from time totime to pay me, than perhaps the extent of the atrocity might fullyhave warranted. It was, however, one consolation that he did not oftenappear, being much engrossed by pursuits about which I neither knew norcared anything; but when he did appear, his attentions, either witha view to his amusement or to some more serious advantage, were soobviously and perseveringly directed to me, that young and inexperiencedas I was, even _I_ could not be ignorant of his preference. I felt moreprovoked by this odious persecution than I can express, and discouragedhim with so much vigour, that I employed even rudeness to convince himthat his assiduities were unwelcome; but all in vain.

  This had gone on for nearly a twelve-month, to my infinite annoyance,when one day as I was sitting at some needle-work with my companionEmily, as was my habit, in the parlour, the door opened, and my cousinEdward entered the room. There was something, I thought, odd in hismanner--a kind of struggle between shame and impudence--a kind of flurryand ambiguity which made him appear, if possible, more than ordinarilydisagreeable.

  'Your servant, ladies,' he said, seating himself at the same time;'sorry to spoil your tete-a-tete, but never mind, I'll only take Emily'splace for a minute or two; and then we part for a while, fair cousin.Emily, my father wants you in the corner turret. No shilly-shally; he'sin a hurry.' She hesitated. 'Be off--tramp, march!' he exclaimed, in atone which the poor girl dared not disobey.

  She left the room, and Edward followed her to the door. He stood therefor a minute or two, as if reflecting what he should say, perhapssatisfying himself that no one was within hearing in the hall.

  At length he turned about, having closed the door, as if carelessly,with his foot; and advancing slowly, as if in deep thought, he took hisseat at the side of the table opposite to mine.

  There was a brief interval of silence, after which he said:

  'I imagine that you have a shrewd suspicion of the object of my earlyvisit; but I suppose I must go into particulars. Must I?'

  'I have no conception,' I replied, 'what your object may be.'

  'Well, well,' said he, becoming more at his ease as he proceeded,'it may be told in a few words. You know that it is totallyimpossible--quite out of the question--that an offhand young fellow likeme, and a good-looking girl like yourself, could meet continually, asyou and I have done, without an attachment--a liking growing up on oneside or other; in short, I think I have let you know as plain as if Ispoke it, that I have been in love with you almost from the first time Isaw you.'

  He paused; but I was too much horrified to speak. He interpreted mysilence favourably.

  'I can tell you,' he continued, 'I'm reckoned rather hard to please, andvery hard to HIT. I can't say when I was taken with a girl before; soyou see fortune reserved me----'

  Here the odious wretch wound his arm round my waist. The action atonce restored me to utterance, and with the most indignant vehemence Ireleased myself from his hold, and at the same time said:

  'I have not been insensible, sir, of your most disagreeableattentions--they have long been a source of much annoyance to me; andyou must be aware that I have marked my disapprobation--my disgust--asunequivocally as I possibly could, without actual indelicacy.'

  I paused, almost out of breath from the rapidity with which I hadspoken; and without giving him time to renew the conversation, I hastilyquitted the room, leaving him in a paroxysm of rage and mortification.As I ascended the stairs, I heard him open the parlour-door withviolence, and take two or three rapid strides in the direction in whichI was moving. I was now much frightened, and ran the whole way until Ireached my room; and having locked the door, I listened breathlessly,but heard no sound. This relieved me for the present; but so much hadI been overcome by the agitation and annoyance attendant upon the scenewhich I had just gone through, that when my cousin Emily knocked at mydoor, I was weeping in strong hysterics.

  You will readily conceive my distress, when you reflect upon mystrong dislike to my cousin Edward, combined with my youth and extremeinexperience. Any proposal of such a nature must have agitated me; butthat it should have come from the man whom of all others I most loathedand abhorred, and to whom I had, as clearly as manner could do it,expressed the state of my feelings, was almost too overwhelming to beborne. It was a calamity, too, in which I could not claim the sympathyof my cousin Emily,
which had always been extended to me in my minorgrievances. Still I hoped that it might not be unattended with good; forI thought that one inevitable and most welcome consequence would resultfrom this painful eclaircissment, in the discontinuance of my cousin'sodious persecution.

  When I arose next morning, it was with the fervent hope that I mightnever again behold the face, or even hear the name, of my cousin Edward;but such a consummation, though devoutly to be wished, was hardly likelyto occur. The painful impressions of yesterday were too vivid to be atonce erased; and I could not help feeling some dim foreboding of comingannoyance and evil.

  To expect on my cousin's part anything like delicacy or considerationfor me, was out of the question. I saw that he had set his heart uponmy property, and that he was not likely easily to forego such anacquisition--possessing what might have been considered opportunitiesand facilities almost to compel my compliance.

  I now keenly felt the unreasonableness of my father's conduct in placingme to reside with a family of all whose members, with one exception,he was wholly ignorant, and I bitterly felt the helplessness of mysituation. I determined, however, in case of my cousin's persevering inhis addresses, to lay all the particulars before my uncle, althoughhe had never in kindness or intimacy gone a step beyond our firstinterview, and to throw myself upon his hospitality and his sense ofhonour for protection against a repetition of such scenes.

  My cousin's conduct may appear to have been an inadequate cause forsuch serious uneasiness; but my alarm was caused neither by his actsnor words, but entirely by his manner, which was strange and evenintimidating to excess. At the beginning of the yesterday's interviewthere was a sort of bullying swagger in his air, which towards theend gave place to the brutal vehemence of an undisguised ruffian--atransition which had tempted me into a belief that he might seek evenforcibly to extort from me a consent to his wishes, or by means stillmore horrible, of which I scarcely dared to trust myself to think, topossess himself of my property.

  I was early next day summoned to attend my uncle in his privateroom, which lay in a corner turret of the old building; and thither Iaccordingly went, wondering all the way what this unusual measure mightprelude. When I entered the room, he did not rise in his usual courteousway to greet me, but simply pointed to a chair opposite to his own. Thisboded nothing agreeable. I sat down, however, silently waiting until heshould open the conversation.

  'Lady Margaret,' at length he said, in a tone of greater sternness thanI thought him capable of using, 'I have hitherto spoken to you as afriend, but I have not forgotten that I am also your guardian, and thatmy authority as such gives me a right to control your conduct. I shallput a question to you, and I expect and will demand a plain, directanswer. Have I rightly been informed that you have contemptuouslyrejected the suit and hand of my son Edward?'

  I stammered forth with a good deal of trepidation:

  'I believe--that is, I have, sir, rejected my cousin's proposals; andmy coldness and discouragement might have convinced him that I haddetermined to do so.'

  'Madam,' replied he, with suppressed, but, as it appeared to me,intense anger, 'I have lived long enough to know that COLDNESS anddiscouragement, and such terms, form the common cant of a worthlesscoquette. You know to the full, as well as I, that COLDNESS ANDDISCOURAGEMENT may be so exhibited as to convince their object thathe is neither distasteful or indifferent to the person who wears thismanner. You know, too, none better, that an affected neglect, whenskilfully managed, is amongst the most formidable of the engines whichartful beauty can employ. I tell you, madam, that having, without oneword spoken in discouragement, permitted my son's most marked attentionsfor a twelvemonth or more, you have no right to dismiss him with nofurther explanation than demurely telling him that you had always lookedcoldly upon him; and neither your wealth nor your LADYSHIP' (there wasan emphasis of scorn on the word, which would have become Sir GilesOverreach himself) 'can warrant you in treating with contempt theaffectionate regard of an honest heart.'

  I was too much shocked at this undisguised attempt to bully me intoan acquiescence in the interested and unprincipled plan for their ownaggrandisement, which I now perceived my uncle and his son to havedeliberately entered into, at once to find strength or collectednessto frame an answer to what he had said. At length I replied, with somefirmness:

  'In all that you have just now said, sir, you have grossly misstated myconduct and motives. Your information must have been most incorrect asfar as it regards my conduct towards my cousin; my manner towards himcould have conveyed nothing but dislike; and if anything could haveadded to the strong aversion which I have long felt towards him, itwould be his attempting thus to trick and frighten me into a marriagewhich he knows to be revolting to me, and which is sought by him only asa means for securing to himself whatever property is mine.'

  As I said this, I fixed my eyes upon those of my uncle, but he was tooold in the world's ways to falter beneath the gaze of more searchingeyes than mine; he simply said:

  'Are you acquainted with the provisions of your father's will?'

  I answered in the affirmative; and he continued:

  'Then you must be aware that if my son Edward were--which Godforbid--the unprincipled, reckless man you pretend to think him'--(herehe spoke very slowly, as if he intended that every word which escapedhim should be registered in my memory, while at the same time theexpression of his countenance underwent a gradual but horrible change,and the eyes which he fixed upon me became so darkly vivid, thatI almost lost sight of everything else)--'if he were what you havedescribed him, think you, girl, he could find no briefer means thanwedding contracts to gain his ends? 'twas but to gripe your slender neckuntil the breath had stopped, and lands, and lakes, and all were his.'

  I stood staring at him for many minutes after he had ceased to speak,fascinated by the terrible serpent-like gaze, until he continued with awelcome change of countenance:

  'I will not speak again to you upon this--topic until one month haspassed. You shall have time to consider the relative advantages of thetwo courses which are open to you. I should be sorry to hurry you toa decision. I am satisfied with having stated my feelings upon thesubject, and pointed out to you the path of duty. Remember this daymonth--not one word sooner.'

  He then rose, and I left the room, much agitated and exhausted.

  This interview, all the circumstances attending it, but mostparticularly the formidable expression of my uncle's countenance whilehe talked, though hypothetically, of murder, combined to arouse all myworst suspicions of him. I dreaded to look upon the face that had sorecently worn the appalling livery of guilt and malignity. I regarded itwith the mingled fear and loathing with which one looks upon an objectwhich has tortured them in a nightmare.

  In a few days after the interview, the particulars of which I have justrelated, I found a note upon my toilet-table, and on opening it I readas follows:

  'MY DEAR LADY MARGARET, 'You will be perhaps surprised tosee a strange face in your room to-day. I have dismissed your Irishmaid, and secured a French one to wait upon you--a step renderednecessary by my proposing shortly to visit the Continent, with all myfamily.

  'Your faithful guardian,

  'ARTHUR T----N.'

  On inquiry, I found that my faithful attendant was actually gone, andfar on her way to the town of Galway; and in her stead there appeareda tall, raw-boned, ill-looking, elderly Frenchwoman, whose sullen andpresuming manners seemed to imply that her vocation had never beforebeen that of a lady's-maid. I could not help regarding her as a creatureof my uncle's, and therefore to be dreaded, even had she been in noother way suspicious.

  Days and weeks passed away without any, even a momentary doubt upon mypart, as to the course to be pursued by me. The allotted period hadat length elapsed; the day arrived on which I was to communicate mydecision to my uncle. Although my resolution had never for a momentwavered, I could not shake of the dread of the approaching colloquy; andmy heart sunk within me as I heard the expected s
ummons.

  I had not seen my cousin Edward since the occurrence of the grandeclaircissment; he must have studiously avoided me--I suppose frompolicy, it could not have been from delicacy. I was prepared for aterrific burst of fury from my uncle, as soon as I should make known mydetermination; and I not unreasonably feared that some act of violenceor of intimidation would next be resorted to.

  Filled with these dreary forebodings, I fearfully opened the study door,and the next minute I stood in my uncle's presence. He received mewith a politeness which I dreaded, as arguing a favourable anticipationrespecting the answer which I was to give; and after some slight delay,he began by saying:

  'It will be a relief to both of us, I believe, to bring thisconversation as soon as possible to an issue. You will excuse me,then, my dear niece, for speaking with an abruptness which, under othercircumstances, would be unpardonable. You have, I am certain, giventhe subject of our last interview fair and serious consideration; and Itrust that you are now prepared with candour to lay your answer beforeme. A few words will suffice--we perfectly understand one another.'

  He paused, and I, though feeling that I stood upon a mine which might inan instant explode, nevertheless answered with perfect composure:

  'I must now, sir, make the same reply which I did upon the lastoccasion, and I reiterate the declaration which I then made, that Inever can nor will, while life and reason remain, consent to a unionwith my cousin Edward.'

  This announcement wrought no apparent change in Sir Arthur, except thathe became deadly, almost lividly pale. He seemed lost in dark thoughtfor a minute, and then with a slight effort said:

  'You have answered me honestly and directly; and you say your resolutionis unchangeable. Well, would it had been otherwise--would it had beenotherwise--but be it as it is--I am satisfied.'

  He gave me his hand--it was cold and damp as death; under an assumedcalmness, it was evident that he was fearfully agitated. He continuedto hold my hand with an almost painful pressure, while, as ifunconsciously, seeming to forget my presence, he muttered:

  'Strange, strange, strange, indeed! fatuity, helpless fatuity!' therewas here a long pause. 'Madness INDEED to strain a cable that is rottento the very heart--it must break--and then--all goes.'

  There was again a pause of some minutes, after which, suddenly changinghis voice and manner to one of wakeful alacrity, he exclaimed:

  'Margaret, my son Edward shall plague you no more. He leaves thiscountry on to-morrow for France--he shall speak no more upon thissubject--never, never more--whatever events depended upon your answermust now take their own course; but, as for this fruitless proposal, ithas been tried enough; it can be repeated no more.'

  At these words he coldly suffered my hand to drop, as if to expresshis total abandonment of all his projected schemes of alliance; andcertainly the action, with the accompanying words, produced upon my minda more solemn and depressing effect than I believed possible to havebeen caused by the course which I had determined to pursue; it struckupon my heart with an awe and heaviness which WILL accompany theaccomplishment of an important and irrevocable act, even though no doubtor scruple remains to make it possible that the agent should wish itundone.

  'Well,' said my uncle, after a little time, 'we now cease to speak uponthis topic, never to resume it again. Remember you shall have no fartheruneasiness from Edward; he leaves Ireland for France on to-morrow; thiswill be a relief to you. May I depend upon your HONOUR that no wordtouching the subject of this interview shall ever escape you?'

  I gave him the desired assurance; he said:

  'It is well--I am satisfied--we have nothing more, I believe, to sayupon either side, and my presence must be a restraint upon you, I shalltherefore bid you farewell.'

  I then left the apartment, scarcely knowing what to think of the strangeinterview which had just taken place.

  On the next day my uncle took occasion to tell me that Edward hadactually sailed, if his intention had not been interfered with byadverse circumstances; and two days subsequently he actually produced aletter from his son, written, as it said, ON BOARD, and despatched whilethe ship was getting under weigh. This was a great satisfaction to me,and as being likely to prove so, it was no doubt communicated to me bySir Arthur.

  During all this trying period, I had found infinite consolation in thesociety and sympathy of my dear cousin Emily. I never in after-lifeformed a friendship so close, so fervent, and upon which, in all itsprogress, I could look back with feelings of such unalloyed pleasure,upon whose termination I must ever dwell with so deep, yet sounembittered regret. In cheerful converse with her I soon recoveredmy spirits considerably, and passed my time agreeably enough, althoughstill in the strictest seclusion.

  Matters went on sufficiently smooth, although I could not help sometimesfeeling a momentary, but horrible uncertainty respecting my uncle'scharacter; which was not altogether unwarranted by the circumstances ofthe two trying interviews whose particulars I have just detailed. Theunpleasant impression which these conferences were calculated to leaveupon my mind, was fast wearing away, when there occurred a circumstance,slight indeed in itself, but calculated irresistibly to awaken all myworst suspicions, and to overwhelm me again with anxiety and terror.

  I had one day left the house with my cousin Emily, in order to takea ramble of considerable length, for the purpose of sketching somefavourite views, and we had walked about half a mile when I perceivedthat we had forgotten our drawing materials, the absence of whichwould have defeated the object of our walk. Laughing at our ownthoughtlessness, we returned to the house, and leaving Emily without, Iran upstairs to procure the drawing-books and pencils, which lay in mybedroom.

  As I ran up the stairs I was met by the tall, ill-looking Frenchwoman,evidently a good deal flurried.

  'Que veut, madame?' said she, with a more decided effort to be politethan I had ever known her make before.

  'No, no--no matter,' said I, hastily running by her in the direction ofmy room.

  'Madame,' cried she, in a high key, 'restez ici, s'il vous plait; votrechambre n'est pas faite--your room is not ready for your reception yet.'

  I continued to move on without heeding her. She was some way behind me,and feeling that she could not otherwise prevent my entrance, for I wasnow upon the very lobby, she made a desperate attempt to seize hold ofmy person: she succeeded in grasping the end of my shawl, which she drewfrom my shoulders; but slipping at the same time upon the polished oakfloor, she fell at full length upon the boards.

  A little frightened as well as angry at the rudeness of this strangewoman, I hastily pushed open the door of my room, at which I now stood,in order to escape from her; but great was my amazement on entering tofind the apartment preoccupied.

  The window was open, and beside it stood two male figures; they appearedto be examining the fastenings of the casement, and their backs wereturned towards the door. One of them was my uncle; they both turned onmy entrance, as if startled. The stranger was booted and cloaked,and wore a heavy broad-leafed hat over his brows. He turned but for amoment, and averted his face; but I had seen enough to convince me thathe was no other than my cousin Edward. My uncle had some iron instrumentin his hand, which he hastily concealed behind his back; and comingtowards me, said something as if in an explanatory tone; but I was toomuch shocked and confounded to understand what it might be. He saidsomething about 'REPAIRS--window--frames--cold, and safety.'

  I did not wait, however, to ask or to receive explanations, but hastilyleft the room. As I went down the stairs I thought I heard the voice ofthe Frenchwoman in all the shrill volubility of excuse, which was met,however, by suppressed but vehement imprecations, or what seemed to meto be such, in which the voice of my cousin Edward distinctly mingled.

  I joined my cousin Emily quite out of breath. I need not say that myhead was too full of other things to think much of drawing for that day.I imparted to her frankly the cause of my alarms, but at the sametime as gently as I could; and with tears she promised vigila
nce,and devotion, and love. I never had reason for a moment to repent theunreserved confidence which I then reposed in her. She was no lesssurprised than I at the unexpected appearance of Edward, whose departurefor France neither of us had for a moment doubted, but which was nowproved by his actual presence to be nothing more than an imposture,practised, I feared, for no good end.

  The situation in which I had found my uncle had removed completely allmy doubts as to his designs. I magnified suspicions into certainties,and dreaded night after night that I should be murdered in my bed.The nervousness produced by sleepless nights and days of anxious fearsincreased the horrors of my situation to such a degree, that I at lengthwrote a letter to a Mr. Jefferies, an old and faithful friend of myfather's, and perfectly acquainted with all his affairs, praying him,for God's sake, to relieve me from my present terrible situation, andcommunicating without reserve the nature and grounds of my suspicions.

  This letter I kept sealed and directed for two or three days alwaysabout my person, for discovery would have been ruinous, in expectationof an opportunity which might be safely trusted, whereby to have itplaced in the post-office. As neither Emily nor I were permitted to passbeyond the precincts of the demesne itself, which was surrounded byhigh walls formed of dry stone, the difficulty of procuring such anopportunity was greatly enhanced.

  At this time Emily had a short conversation with her father, which shereported to me instantly.

  After some indifferent matter, he had asked her whether she and I wereupon good terms, and whether I was unreserved in my disposition. Sheanswered in the affirmative; and he then inquired whether I had beenmuch surprised to find him in my chamber on the other day. She answeredthat I had been both surprised and amused.

  'And what did she think of George Wilson's appearance?'

  'Who?' inquired she.

  'Oh, the architect,' he answered, 'who is to contract for the repairs ofthe house; he is accounted a handsome fellow.'

  'She could not see his face,' said Emily, 'and she was in such a hurryto escape that she scarcely noticed him.'

  Sir Arthur appeared satisfied, and the conversation ended.

  This slight conversation, repeated accurately to me by Emily, had theeffect of confirming, if indeed anything was required to do so, all thatI had before believed as to Edward's actual presence; and I naturallybecame, if possible, more anxious than ever to despatch the letter toMr. Jefferies. An opportunity at length occurred.

  As Emily and I were walking one day near the gate of the demesne, a ladfrom the village happened to be passing down the avenue from the house;the spot was secluded, and as this person was not connected by servicewith those whose observation I dreaded, I committed the letter to hiskeeping, with strict injunctions that he should put it without delayinto the receiver of the town post-office; at the same time I addeda suitable gratuity, and the man having made many protestations ofpunctuality, was soon out of sight.

  He was hardly gone when I began to doubt my discretion in having trustedthis person; but I had no better or safer means of despatching theletter, and I was not warranted in suspecting him of such wantondishonesty as an inclination to tamper with it; but I could not be quitesatisfied of its safety until I had received an answer, which could notarrive for a few days. Before I did, however, an event occurred which alittle surprised me.

  I was sitting in my bedroom early in the day, reading by myself, when Iheard a knock at the door.

  'Come in,' said I; and my uncle entered the room.

  'Will you excuse me?' said he. 'I sought you in the parlour, and thenceI have come here. I desired to say a word with you. I trust that youhave hitherto found my conduct to you such as that of a guardian towardshis ward should be.'

  I dared not withhold my consent.

  'And,' he continued, 'I trust that you have not found me harsh orunjust, and that you have perceived, my dear niece, that I have soughtto make this poor place as agreeable to you as may be.'

  I assented again; and he put his hand in his pocket, whence he drew afolded paper, and dashing it upon the table with startling emphasis, hesaid:

  'Did you write that letter?'

  The sudden and tearful alteration of his voice, manner, and face, but,more than all, the unexpected production of my letter to Mr. Jefferies,which I at once recognised, so confounded and terrified me, that I feltalmost choking.

  I could not utter a word.

  'Did you write that letter?' he repeated with slow and intenseemphasis.' You did, liar and hypocrite! You dared to write this foul andinfamous libel; but it shall be your last. Men will universally believeyou mad, if I choose to call for an inquiry. I can make you appearso. The suspicions expressed in this letter are the hallucinations andalarms of moping lunacy. I have defeated your first attempt, madam; andby the holy God, if ever you make another, chains, straw, darkness, andthe keeper's whip shall be your lasting portion!'

  With these astounding words he left the room, leaving me almostfainting.

  I was now almost reduced to despair; my last cast had failed; I had nocourse left but that of eloping secretly from the castle, and placingmyself under the protection of the nearest magistrate. I felt if thiswere not done, and speedily, that I should be MURDERED.

  No one, from mere description, can have an idea of the unmitigatedhorror of my situation--a helpless, weak, inexperienced girl, placedunder the power and wholly at the mercy of evil men, and feeling thatshe had it not in her power to escape for a moment from the malignantinfluences under which she was probably fated to fall; and with aconsciousness that if violence, if murder were designed, her dyingshriek would be lost in void space; no human being would be near to aidher, no human interposition could deliver her.

  I had seen Edward but once during his visit, and as I did not meet withhim again, I began to think that he must have taken his departure--aconviction which was to a certain degree satisfactory, as I regarded hisabsence as indicating the removal of immediate danger.

  Emily also arrived circuitously at the same conclusion, and not withoutgood grounds, for she managed indirectly to learn that Edward's blackhorse had actually been for a day and part of a night in the castlestables, just at the time of her brother's supposed visit. The horse hadgone, and, as she argued, the rider must have departed with it.

  This point being so far settled, I felt a little less uncomfortable:when being one day alone in my bedroom, I happened to look out fromthe window, and, to my unutterable horror, I beheld, peering throughan opposite casement, my cousin Edward's face. Had I seen the evil onehimself in bodily shape, I could not have experienced a more sickeningrevulsion.

  I was too much appalled to move at once from the window, but I did sosoon enough to avoid his eye. He was looking fixedly into the narrowquadrangle upon which the window opened. I shrank back unperceived, topass the rest of the day in terror and despair. I went to my room earlythat night, but I was too miserable to sleep.

  At about twelve o'clock, feeling very nervous, I determined to callmy cousin Emily, who slept, you will remember, in the next room, whichcommunicated with mine by a second door. By this private entrance Ifound my way into her chamber, and without difficulty persuaded her toreturn to my room and sleep with me. We accordingly lay down together,she undressed, and I with my clothes on, for I was every moment walkingup and down the room, and felt too nervous and miserable to think ofrest or comfort.

  Emily was soon fast asleep, and I lay awake, fervently longing for thefirst pale gleam of morning, reckoning every stroke of the old clockwith an impatience which made every hour appear like six.

  It must have been about one o'clock when I thought I heard a slightnoise at the partition-door between Emily's room and mine, as if causedby somebody's turning the key in the lock. I held my breath, and thesame sound was repeated at the second door of my room--that which openedupon the lobby--the sound was here distinctly caused by the revolutionof the bolt in the lock, and it was followed by a slight pressure uponthe door itself, as if to ascertain the security
of the lock.

  The person, whoever it might be, was probably satisfied, for I heardthe old boards of the lobby creak and strain, as if under the weightof somebody moving cautiously over them. My sense of hearing becameunnaturally, almost painfully acute. I suppose the imagination addeddistinctness to sounds vague in themselves. I thought that I couldactually hear the breathing of the person who was slowly returning downthe lobby. At the head of the staircase there appeared to occur a pause;and I could distinctly hear two or three sentences hastily whispered;the steps then descended the stairs with apparently less caution. I nowventured to walk quickly and lightly to the lobby-door, and attemptedto open it; it was indeed fast locked upon the outside, as was also theother.

  I now felt that the dreadful hour was come; but one desperate expedientremained--it was to awaken Emily, and by our united strength to attemptto force the partition-door, which was slighter than the other, andthrough this to pass to the lower part of the house, whence it might bepossible to escape to the grounds, and forth to the village.

  I returned to the bedside and shook Emily, but in vain. Nothing thatI could do availed to produce from her more than a few incoherentwords--it was a death-like sleep. She had certainly drank of somenarcotic, as had I probably also, spite of all the caution with which Ihad examined everything presented to us to eat or drink.

  I now attempted, with as little noise as possible, to force first onedoor, then the other--but all in vain. I believe no strength could haveeffected my object, for both doors opened inwards. I therefore collectedwhatever movables I could carry thither, and piled them against thedoors, so as to assist me in whatever attempts I should make toresist the entrance of those without. I then returned to the bed andendeavoured again, but fruitlessly, to awaken my cousin. It was notsleep, it was torpor, lethargy, death. I knelt down and prayed with anagony of earnestness; and then seating myself upon the bed, I awaited myfate with a kind of terrible tranquillity.

  I heard a faint clanking sound from the narrow court which I havealready mentioned, as if caused by the scraping of some iron instrumentagainst stones or rubbish. I at first determined not to disturb thecalmness which I now felt, by uselessly watching the proceedings ofthose who sought my life; but as the sounds continued, the horriblecuriosity which I felt overcame every other emotion, and I determined,at all hazards, to gratify it. I therefore crawled upon my knees to thewindow, so as to let the smallest portion of my head appear above thesill.

  The moon was shining with an uncertain radiance upon the antique greybuildings, and obliquely upon the narrow court beneath, one side ofwhich was therefore clearly illuminated, while the other was lost inobscurity, the sharp outlines of the old gables, with their noddingclusters of ivy, being at first alone visible.

  Whoever or whatever occasioned the noise which had excited my curiosity,was concealed under the shadow of the dark side of the quadrangle. Iplaced my hand over my eyes to shade them from the moonlight, which wasso bright as to be almost dazzling, and, peering into the darkness, Ifirst dimly, but afterwards gradually, almost with full distinctness,beheld the form of a man engaged in digging what appeared to be arude hole close under the wall. Some implements, probably a shovel andpickaxe, lay beside him, and to these he every now and then appliedhimself as the nature of the ground required. He pursued his taskrapidly, and with as little noise as possible.

  'So,' thought I, as, shovelful after shovelful, the dislodged rubbishmounted into a heap, 'they are digging the grave in which, before twohours pass, I must lie, a cold, mangled corpse. I am THEIRS--I cannotescape.'

  I felt as if my reason was leaving me. I started to my feet, and in meredespair I applied myself again to each of the two doors alternately. Istrained every nerve and sinew, but I might as well have attempted, withmy single strength, to force the building itself from its foundation. Ithrew myself madly upon the ground, and clasped my hands over my eyes asif to shut out the horrible images which crowded upon me.

  The paroxysm passed away. I prayed once more, with the bitter,agonised fervour of one who feels that the hour of death is present andinevitable. When I arose, I went once more to the window and looked out,just in time to see a shadowy figure glide stealthily along the wall.The task was finished. The catastrophe of the tragedy must soon beaccomplished.

  I determined now to defend my life to the last; and that I might be ableto do so with some effect, I searched the room for something which mightserve as a weapon; but either through accident, or from an anticipationof such a possibility, everything which might have been made availablefor such a purpose had been carefully removed. I must then die tamelyand without an effort to defend myself.

  A thought suddenly struck me--might it not be possible to escape throughthe door, which the assassin must open in order to enter the room? Iresolved to make the attempt. I felt assured that the door through whichingress to the room would be effected, was that which opened upon thelobby. It was the more direct way, besides being, for obvious reasons,less liable to interruption than the other. I resolved, then, to placemyself behind a projection of the wall, whose shadow would serve fullyto conceal me, and when the door should be opened, and before theyshould have discovered the identity of the occupant of the bed, to creepnoiselessly from the room, and then to trust to Providence for escape.

  In order to facilitate this scheme, I removed all the lumber which Ihad heaped against the door; and I had nearly completed my arrangements,when I perceived the room suddenly darkened by the close approach ofsome shadowy object to the window. On turning my eyes in that direction,I observed at the top of the casement, as if suspended from above, firstthe feet, then the legs, then the body, and at length the whole figureof a man present himself. It was Edward T----n.

  He appeared to be guiding his descent so as to bring his feet upon thecentre of the stone block which occupied the lower part of the window;and, having secured his footing upon this, he kneeled down and began togaze into the room. As the moon was gleaming into the chamber, and thebed-curtains were drawn, he was able to distinguish the bed itself andits contents. He appeared satisfied with his scrutiny, for he looked upand made a sign with his hand, upon which the rope by which hisdescent had been effected was slackened from above, and he proceeded todisengage it from his waist; this accomplished, he applied his handsto the window-frame, which must have been ingeniously contrived for thepurpose, for, with apparently no resistance, the whole frame, containingcasement and all, slipped from its position in the wall, and was by himlowered into the room.

  The cold night wind waved the bed-curtains, and he paused for amoment--all was still again--and he stepped in upon the floor of theroom. He held in his hand what appeared to be a steel instrument, shapedsomething like a hammer, but larger and sharper at the extremities. Thishe held rather behind him, while, with three long, tip-toe strides, hebrought himself to the bedside.

  I felt that the discovery must now be made, and held my breath inmomentary expectation of the execration in which he would vent hissurprise and disappointment. I closed my eyes--there was a pause, butit was a short one. I heard two dull blows, given in rapid succession:a quivering sigh, and the long-drawn, heavy breathing of the sleeper wasfor ever suspended. I unclosed my eyes, and saw the murderer fling thequilt across the head of his victim: he then, with the instrument ofdeath still in his hand, proceeded to the lobby-door, upon which hetapped sharply twice or thrice. A quick step was then heard approaching,and a voice whispered something from without. Edward answered, with akind of chuckle, 'Her ladyship is past complaining; unlock the door, inthe devil's name, unless you're afraid to come in, and help me to liftthe body out of the window.'

  The key was turned in the lock--the door opened--and my uncle enteredthe room.

  I have told you already that I had placed myself under the shade of aprojection of the wall, close to the door. I had instinctively shrunkdown, cowering towards the ground on the entrance of Edward through thewindow. When my uncle entered the room he and his son both stood so veryclose to m
e that his hand was every moment upon the point of touching myface. I held my breath, and remained motionless as death.

  'You had no interruption from the next room?' said my uncle.

  'No,' was the brief reply.

  'Secure the jewels, Ned; the French harpy must not lay her claws uponthem. You're a steady hand, by G----! not much blood--eh?'

  'Not twenty drops,' replied his son, 'and those on the quilt.'

  'I'm glad it's over,' whispered my uncle again. 'We must lift the--theTHING through the window, and lay the rubbish over it.'

  They then turned to the bedside, and, winding the bed-clothes round thebody, carried it between them slowly to the window, and, exchanginga few brief words with some one below, they shoved it over thewindow-sill, and I heard it fall heavily on the ground underneath.

  'I'll take the jewels,' said my uncle; 'there are two caskets in thelower drawer.'

  He proceeded, with an accuracy which, had I been more at ease, wouldhave furnished me with matter of astonishment, to lay his hand upon thevery spot where my jewels lay; and having possessed himself of them, hecalled to his son:

  'Is the rope made fast above?'

  'I'm not a fool--to be sure it is,' replied he.

  They then lowered themselves from the window. I now rose lightly andcautiously, scarcely daring to breathe, from my place of concealment,and was creeping towards the door, when I heard my cousin's voice, ina sharp whisper, exclaim: 'Scramble up again! G--d d----n you, you'veforgot to lock the room-door!' and I perceived, by the straining of therope which hung from above, that the mandate was instantly obeyed.

  Not a second was to be lost. I passed through the door, which was onlyclosed, and moved as rapidly as I could, consistently with stillness,along the lobby. Before I had gone many yards, I heard the door throughwhich I had just passed double-locked on the inside. I glided down thestairs in terror, lest, at every corner, I should meet the murderer orone of his accomplices.

  I reached the hall, and listened for a moment to ascertain whether allwas silent around; no sound was audible. The parlour windows opened onthe park, and through one of them I might, I thought, easily effectmy escape. Accordingly, I hastily entered; but, to my consternation, acandle was burning in the room, and by its light I saw a figure seatedat the dinner-table, upon which lay glasses, bottles, and the otheraccompaniments of a drinking-party. Two or three chairs were placedabout the table irregularly, as if hastily abandoned by their occupants.

  A single glance satisfied me that the figure was that of my Frenchattendant. She was fast asleep, having probably drank deeply. Therewas something malignant and ghastly in the calmness of this bad woman'sfeatures, dimly illuminated as they were by the flickering blaze ofthe candle. A knife lay upon the table, and the terrible thoughtstruck me--'Should I kill this sleeping accomplice in the guilt of themurderer, and thus secure my retreat?'

  Nothing could be easier--it was but to draw the blade across herthroat--the work of a second. An instant's pause, however, correctedme. 'No,' thought I, 'the God who has conducted me thus far through thevalley of the shadow of death, will not abandon me now. I will fall intotheir hands, or I will escape hence, but it shall be free from the stainof blood. His will be done.'

  I felt a confidence arising from this reflection, an assurance ofprotection which I cannot describe. There was no other means of escape,so I advanced, with a firm step and collected mind, to the window. Inoiselessly withdrew the bars and unclosed the shutters--I pushed openthe casement, and, without waiting to look behind me, I ran with myutmost speed, scarcely feeling the ground under me, down the avenue,taking care to keep upon the grass which bordered it.

  I did not for a moment slack my speed, and I had now gained the centrepoint between the park-gate and the mansion-house. Here the avenue madea wider circuit, and in order to avoid delay, I directed my way acrossthe smooth sward round which the pathway wound, intending, at theopposite side of the flat, at a point which I distinguished by a groupof old birch-trees, to enter again upon the beaten track, which was fromthence tolerably direct to the gate.

  I had, with my utmost speed, got about half way across this broad flat,when the rapid treading of a horse's hoofs struck upon my ear. Myheart swelled in my bosom as though I would smother. The clattering ofgalloping hoofs approached--I was pursued--they were now upon the swardon which I was running--there was not a bush or a bramble to shelterme--and, as if to render escape altogether desperate, the moon, whichhad hitherto been obscured, at this moment shone forth with a broadclear light, which made every object distinctly visible.

  The sounds were now close behind me. I felt my knees bending under me,with the sensation which torments one in dreams. I reeled--I stumbled--Ifell--and at the same instant the cause of my alarm wheeled past me atfull gallop. It was one of the young fillies which pastured loose aboutthe park, whose frolics had thus all but maddened me with terror.I scrambled to my feet, and rushed on with weak but rapid steps, mysportive companion still galloping round and round me with many afrisk and fling, until, at length, more dead than alive, I reached theavenue-gate and crossed the stile, I scarce knew how.

  I ran through the village, in which all was silent as the grave, untilmy progress was arrested by the hoarse voice of a sentinel, who cried:'Who goes there?' I felt that I was now safe. I turned in the directionof the voice, and fell fainting at the soldier's feet. When I came tomyself; I was sitting in a miserable hovel, surrounded by strange faces,all bespeaking curiosity and compassion.

  Many soldiers were in it also: indeed, as I afterwards found, it wasemployed as a guard-room by a detachment of troops quartered for thatnight in the town. In a few words I informed their officer of thecircumstances which had occurred, describing also the appearance of thepersons engaged in the murder; and he, without loss of time, proceededto the mansion-house of Carrickleigh, taking with him a party of hismen. But the villains had discovered their mistake, and had effectedtheir escape before the arrival of the military.

  The Frenchwoman was, however, arrested in the neighbourhood upon thenext day. She was tried and condemned upon the ensuing assizes; andprevious to her execution, confessed that 'SHE HAD A HAND IN MAKING HUGHTISDAL'S BED.' She had been a housekeeper in the castle at the time, anda kind of chere amie of my uncle's. She was, in reality, able to speakEnglish like a native, but had exclusively used the French language, Isuppose to facilitate her disguise. She died the same hardened wretchwhich she had lived, confessing her crimes only, as she alleged, thather doing so might involve Sir Arthur T----n, the great author ofher guilt and misery, and whom she now regarded with unmitigateddetestation.

  With the particulars of Sir Arthur's and his son's escape, as far asthey are known, you are acquainted. You are also in possession of theirafter fate--the terrible, the tremendous retribution which, after longdelays of many years, finally overtook and crushed them. Wonderful andinscrutable are the dealings of God with His creatures.

  Deep and fervent as must always be my gratitude to heaven for mydeliverance, effected by a chain of providential occurrences, thefailing of a single link of which must have ensured my destruction, Iwas long before I could look back upon it with other feelings than thoseof bitterness, almost of agony.

  The only being that had ever really loved me, my nearest and dearestfriend, ever ready to sympathise, to counsel, and to assist--the gayest,the gentlest, the warmest heart--the only creature on earth that caredfor me--HER life had been the price of my deliverance; and I thenuttered the wish, which no event of my long and sorrowful life hastaught me to recall, that she had been spared, and that, in her stead,_I_ were mouldering in the grave, forgotten and at rest.