The Evil Guest Read online

unknown terror; a certain horror of the thoughtswhich had been his comrades through the day, which he could not nowshake off, and which haunted him with a ghastly and defiant pertinacity,scared, while they half-enraged him. He stalked swiftly homewards, likea guilty man pursued.

  Marston was not perfectly satisfied, though very nearly, with theevidence now in his possession. The letter, the stolen perusal of whichhad so agitated him that day, bore no signature; but, independently ofthe handwriting, which seemed, spite of the constraint of an attempteddisguise, to be familiar to his eye, there existed, in the matter of theletter, short as it was, certain internal evidences, which, although notactually conclusive, raised, in conjunction with all the othercircumstances, a powerful presumption in aid of his suspicions. Heresolved, however, to sift the matter further, and to bide his time.Meanwhile his manner must indicate no trace of his dark surmises andbitter thoughts. Deception, in its two great branches, simulation anddissimulation, was easy to him. His habitual reserve and gloom woulddivest any accidental and momentary disclosure of his inward trouble ofeverything suspicious or unaccountable, which would have characterizedsuch displays and eccentricities in another man.

  His rapid and reckless ramble, a kind of physical vent for the paroxysmwhich had so agitated him throughout the greater part of the day, hadsoiled and disordered his dress, and thus had helped to give to his wholeappearance a certain air of haggard wildness, which, in the privacy ofhis chamber, he hastened carefully and entirely to remove.

  At supper, Marston was apparently in unusually good spirits. Sir Wynstonand he chatted gaily and fluently upon many subjects, grave and gay.Among them the inexhaustible topic of popular superstition happened toturn up, and especially the subject of strange prophecies of the fatesand fortunes of individuals, singularly fulfilled in the events of theirafterlife.

  "By-the-by, Dick, this is rather a nervous topic for me to discuss," saidSir Wynston.

  "How so?" asked his host.

  "Why, don't you remember?" urged the baronet.

  "No, I don't recollect what you allude to," replied Marston, in allsincerity.

  "Why, don't you remember Eton?" pursued Sir Wynston.

  "Yes, to be sure," said Marston.

  "Well?" continued his visitor.

  "Well, I really don't recollect the prophecy," replied Marston.

  "What! do you forget the gypsy who predicted that you were to murder me,Dick--eh?"

  "Ah-ha, ha!" laughed Marston, with a start.

  "Don't you remember it now?" urged his companion.

  "Ah, why yes, I believe I do," said Marston; "but another prophecy wasrunning in my mind; a gypsy prediction, too. At Ascot, do yourecollect the girl told me I was to be Lord Chancellor of England, anda duke besides?"

  "Well, Dick," rejoined Sir Wynston, merrily, "if both are to befulfilled, or neither, I trust you may never sit upon the woolsackof England."

  The party soon after broke up: Sir Wynston and his host, as usual, topass some hours at piquet; and Mrs. Marston, as was her wont, to, spendsome time in her own boudoir, over notes and accounts, and the worryingdetails of housekeeping.

  While thus engaged, she was disturbed by a respectful tap at her door,and an elderly servant, who had been for many years in the employment ofMr. Marston, presented himself.

  "Well, Merton, do you want anything?" asked the lady.

  "Yes, ma'am, please, I want to give warning; I wish to leave the service,ma'am;" replied he, respectfully, but doggedly.

  "To leave us, Merton!" echoed his mistress, both surprised and sorry forthe man had been long her servant, and had been much liked and trusted.

  "Yes, ma'am," he repeated.

  "And why do you wish to do so, Merton? Has anything occurred to make theplace unpleasant to you?" urged the lady.

  "No, ma'am--no, indeed," said he, earnestly, "I have nothing to complainof--nothing, indeed, ma'am."

  "Perhaps, you think you can do better, if you leave us?" suggestedhis mistress.

  "No, indeed, ma'am, I have no such thought," he said, and seemed on thepoint of bursting into tears; "but--but, somehow--ma'am, there issomething come over me, lately, and I can't help, but think, if I stayhere, ma'am--some--some--misfortune will happen to us all--and that is thetruth, ma'am."

  "This is very foolish, Merton--a mere childish fancy," replied Mrs.Marston; "you like your place, and have no better prospect before you;and now, for a mere superstitious fancy, you propose giving it up, andleaving us. No, no, Merton, you had better think the matter over--and ifyou still, upon reflection, prefer going away, you can then speak toyour master."

  "Thank you ma'am--God bless you," said the man, withdrawing.

  Mrs. Marston rang the bell for her maid, and retired to her room. "Hasanything occurred lately," she asked, "to annoy Merton?"

  "No, ma'am, I don't know of anything; but he is very changed, indeed, oflate," replied the maid.

  "He has not been quarreling?" inquired she.

  "Oh, no, ma'am, he never quarrels; he is very quiet, and keeps to himselfalways; he thinks a wonderful deal of himself," replied the servant.

  "But, you said that he is much changed--did you not?" continued the lady;for there was something strangely excited and unpleasant in the man'smanner, in this little interview, which struck Mrs. Marston, and alarmedher curiosity. He had seemed like one charged with some horriblesecret--intolerable, and which he yet dared not reveal.

  "What," proceeded Mrs. Marston, "is the nature of the change of whichyou speak?"

  "Why, ma'am, he is like one frightened, and in sorrow," she replied; "hewill sit silent, and now and then shaking his head, as if he wanted toget rid of something that is teasing him, for an hour together."

  "Poor man!" said she.

  "And, then, when we are at meals, he will, all on a sudden, get up, andleave the table; and Jem Boulter, that sleeps in the next room to him,says, that, almost as often as he looks through the little window betweenthe two rooms, no matter what hour in the night, he sees Mr. Merton onhis knees by the bedside, praying or crying, he don't know which; but,any way, he is not happy--poor man!--and that is plain enough."

  "It is very strange," said the lady, after a pause; "but, I think, andhope, after all, it will prove to have been no more than a littlenervousness."

  "Well, ma'am, I do hope it is not his conscience that is coming againsthim, now," said the maid.

  "We have no reason to suspect anything of the kind," said Mrs.Marston, gravely, "quite the reverse; he has been always aparticularly proper man."

  "Oh, indeed," responded the attendant, "goodness forbid I should say orthink anything against him; but I could not help telling you my mind,ma'am, meaning no harm."

  "And, how long is it since you observed this sad change in poor Merton?"persisted the lady.

  "Not, indeed, to say very long, ma'am," replied the girl; "somewhereabout a week, or very little more--at least, as we remarked, ma'am."

  Mrs. Marston pursued her inquiries no further that night. But, althoughshe affected to treat the matter thus lightly, it had, somehow, taken apainful hold upon her imagination, and left in her mind thoseundefinable and ominous sensations, which, in certain mentaltemperaments, seem to foreshadow the approach of unknown misfortune.

  For two or three days, everything went on smoothly, and pretty much asusual. At the end of this brief interval, however, the attention of Mrs.Marston was recalled to the subject of her servant's mysterious anxietyto leave, and give up his situation. Merton again stood before her, andrepeated the intimation he had already given.

  "Really, Merton, this is very odd," said the lady. "You like yoursituation, and yet you persist in desiring to leave it. What am Ito think?"

  "Oh, ma'am," said he, "I am unhappy; I am tormented, ma'am. I can't tellyou, ma'am; I can't indeed ma'am!"

  "If anything weighs upon your mind, Merton, I would advise you to consultour good clergyman, Dr. Danvers," urged the lady.

  The servant hung his head, and mused for a time gloomily; an
d then saiddecisively--"No, ma'am; no use."

  "And pray, Merton, how long is it since you first entertained thisdesire?" asked Mrs. Marston.

  "Since Sir Wynston Berkley came, ma'am," answered he.

  "Has Sir Wynston annoyed you in any way?" continued she.

  "Far from it, ma'am," he replied; "he is a very kind gentleman."

  "Well, his man, then; is he a respectable, inoffensive person?"she inquired.

  "I never met one