The Evil Guest Read online

greater length,and from which, therefore, we shall only offer a few extracts. It wasaddressed to John Skelton, Esq., and began as follows.--

  "My Dear Skelton,

  "You are, doubtless, surprised at my long silence, but I have had nothingvery particular to say. My visit to this dull and uncomfortable place was(as you rightly surmise) not without its object--a little bit of wickedromance; the pretty demoiselle of Rouen, whom I mentioned to you morethan once--la belle de Barras--was, in truth, the attraction that drew mehither; and I think (for, as yet, she affects hesitation), I shall haveno further trouble with her. She is a fine creature, and you will admit,when you have seen her, well worth taking some trouble about. She is,however, a very knowing little minx, and evidently suspects me of being asad, fickle dog--and, as I surmise, has some plans, moreover, respectingmy morose cousin, Marston, a kind of wicked Penruddock, who has carriedall his London tastes into his savage retreat, a paradise of bogs andbushes. There is, I am very confident, a liaison in that quarter. Theyoung lady is evidently a good deal afraid of him, and insists upon suchprecautions in our interviews, that they have been very few, and farbetween, indeed. Today, there has been a fracas of some kind. I have nodoubt that Marston, poor devil, is jealous. His situation is reallypitiably comic--with an intriguing mistress, a saintly wife, and a devilof a jealous temper of his own. I shall meet Mary on reaching town. HasClavering (shabby dog!) paid his I.O.U. yet? Tell the little opera womanshe had better be quiet. She ought to know me by this time; I shall dowhat is right, but won't submit to be bullied. If she is troublesome,snap your fingers at her, on my behalf, and leave her to her remedy. Ihave written to Gray, to get things at Wynston in order. She will drawupon you for what money she requires. Send down two or three of theservants, if they have not already gone. The place is very dusty anddingy, and needs a great deal of brushing and scouring. I shall see youin town very soon. By the way, has the claret I ordered from the Dublinhouse arrived yet? It is consigned to you, and goes by the 'Lizard'; paythe freightage, and get Edwards to pack it; ten dozen or so may as wellgo down to Wynston, and send other wines in proportion. I leave detailsto you...."

  Some further directions upon other subjects followed; and havingsubscribed the dispatch, and addressed it to the gentlemanlike scoundrelwho filled the onerous office of factotum to this profligate andexacting man of the world, Sir Wynston Berkley rang his bell, and gavethe two letters into the hand of his man, with special directions tocarry them himself in person, to the post office in the neighboringvillage, early next morning. These little matters completed, Sir Wynstonstirred his fire, leaned back in his easy chair, and smiled blandly overthe sunny prospect of his imaginary triumphs.

  It here becomes necessary to describe, in a few words, some of the localrelations of Sir Wynston's apartments. The bedchamber which he occupiedopened from the long passage of which we have already spoken--and therewere two other smaller apartments opening from it in train. In thefurther of these, which was entered from a lobby, communicating by a backstair with the kitchen and servants' apartments, lay Sir Wynston's valet,and the intermediate chamber was fitted up as a dressing room for thebaronet himself. These circumstances it is necessary to mention, thatwhat follows may be clearly intelligible.

  While the baronet was penning these records of vicious schemes--direwaste of wealth and time--irrevocable time!--Marston paced his study in avery different frame of mind. There were a gloom and disorder in the roomaccordant with those of his own mind. Shelves of ancient tomes, darkenedby time, and upon which the dust of years lay sleeping--dark oakencabinets, filled with piles of deeds and papers, among which the nimblespiders were crawling--and, from the dusky walls, several stark, paleancestors, looking down coldly from their tarnished frames. An hour, andanother hour passed--and still Marston paced this melancholy chamber, aprey to his own fell passions and dark thoughts. He was not asuperstitious man, but, in the visions which haunted him, perhaps, wassomething which made him unusually excitable--for, he experienced a chillof absolute horror, as, standing at the farther end of the room, with hisface turned towards the entrance, he beheld the door noiselessly andslowly pushed open, by a pale, thin hand, and a figure dressed in a loosewhite robe, glide softly in. He stood for some seconds gazing upon thisapparition, as it moved hesitatingly towards him from the dusky extremityof the large apartment, before he perceived that the form was that ofMrs. Marston.

  "Hey, ha!--Mrs. Marston--what on earth has called you hither?" he asked,sternly. "You ought to have been at rest an hour ago; get to yourchamber, and leave me, I have business to attend to."

  "Now, dear Richard, you must forgive me," she said, drawing near, andlooking up into his haggard face with a sweet and touching look oftimidity and love; "I could not rest until I saw you again; your lookshave been all this night so unlike yourself; so strange and terrible,that I am afraid some great misfortune threatens you, which you fear totell me of."

  "My looks! Why, curse it, must I give an account of my looks?" repliedMarston, at once disconcerted and wrathful. "Misfortune! What misfortunecan befall us more? No, there is nothing, nothing, I say, but your ownfoolish fancy; go to your room--go to sleep--my looks, indeed; pshaw!"

  "I came to tell you, dear Richard, that I will do, in all respects, justas you desire. If you continue to wish it, I will part with poormademoiselle; though, indeed, Richard, I shall miss her more than you canimagine; and all your suspicions have wronged her deeply," said Mrs.Marston. Her husband darted a sudden flashing glance of suspiciousscrutiny upon her face; but its expression was frank, earnest, noble. Hewas disarmed; he hung his head gloomily upon his breast, and was silentfor a time. She came nearer, and laid her hand upon his arm. He lookeddarkly into her upturned eyes, and a feeling which had not touched hisheart for many a day--an emotion of pity, transient, indeed, but vivid,revisited him. He took her hand in his, and said, in gentler terms thanshe had heard him use for a long time--

  "No, indeed, Gertrude, you have deceived yourself; no misfortune hashappened, and if I am gloomy, the source of all my troubles is within.Leave me, Gertrude, for the present. As to the other matter, thedeparture of Mademoiselle de Barras, we can talk of that tomorrow--now Icannot; so let us part. Go to your room; good night."

  She was withdrawing, and he added, in a subdued tone--"Gertrude, I amvery glad you came--very glad. Pray for me tonight."

  He had followed her a few steps toward the door, and now stopped short,turned about, and walked dejectedly back again--

  "I am right glad she came," he muttered, as soon as he was once morealone. "Wynston is provoking and fiery, too. Were I, in my present mood,to seek a tete-a-tete with him, who knows what might come of it? Blood;my own heart whispers--blood! I'll not trust myself."

  He strode to the study door, locked it, and taking out the key, shut itin the drawer of one of the cabinets.

  "Now it will need more than accident or impulse to lead me to him. Icannot go, at least, without reflection, without premeditation. Avaunt,fiend. I have baffled you."

  He stood in the center of the room, cowering and scowling as he saidthis, and looked round with a glance half-defiant, half-fearful, as if heexpected to see some dreadful form in the dusky recesses of the desolatechamber. He sat himself by the smouldering fire, in somber and agitatedrumination. He was restless; he rose again, unbuckled his sword, which hehad not loosed since evening, and threw it hastily into a corner. Helooked at his watch, it was half-past twelve; he glanced at the door, andthence at the cabinet in which he had placed the key; then he turnedhastily, and sate down again. He leaned his elbows on his knees, and hischin upon his clenched hand; still he was restless and excited. Once morehe arose, and paced up and down. He consulted his watch again; it was nowbut a quarter to one.

  Sir Wynston's man having received the letters, and his master'spermission to retire to rest, got into his bed, and was soon beginning todose. We have already mentioned that his and Sir Wynston's apartmentswere separated by a small dressing room, so that any ordinary noise orconve
rsation could be heard but imperfectly from one to the other. Theservant, however, was startled by a sound of something falling on thefloor of his master's apartment, and broken to pieces by the violence ofthe shock. He sate up in his bed, listened, and heard some sentencesspoken vehemently, and gabbled very fast. He thought he distinguished thewords "wretch" and "God"; and there was something so strange in the tonein which they were spoken, that the man got up and stole noiselesslythrough the dressing room, and listened at the door.

  He heard him, as he thought, walking in his slippers through the room,and making his customary arrangements previously to getting into bed. Heknew that his master had a habit of speaking when alone, and concludedthat the accidental breakage of some glass or chimney-ornament hadelicited the volley of words he had heard. Well knowing that,