Activate Javascript or update your browser for the full Digital Library experience.
Previous Page
–
Next Page
OCR
cy
a
FRANK LESLIE'S NEW YORK JOURNAL. 263
Asa clergyman and a man of fortune, he ful-
filled the duties of his station with the most scrupu-
lous propriety—subscribed to the principal county
charities, distributed a very moderate donation of
coals and blankets to his poor, parishioners _ at
Christmas, and tea and cake to the children of the
two charity schools in the village at Midsummer. :
“A dark camlet frock?” eagerly interrupted Martha,
grasping his hand in her excitement.
“Yes, I think—nay I am sure—it was !”
«« And they would have murdered her! Oh, pitiless
—pitiless! Where is she? Where am I to seek
her? Benevolence like yours could not have aban-
doned her to the mercy of the world! Generous man
i ly will I repay you!”
In these works of | 1 , be it ;
the contributions of his wealthy neighbours materi-
ally assisted, if they did not entirely defray the
expenseg, But it is so easily for a clergyman—
especially if he is known to be rich—to obtain a
reputation for charity at trifling cost to himself.
Some even make a handsome commission for their
trouble. . ,
“Very shocking affair, Miss Mendez!” he ob-
served, as soon as they were seated ; pray tell me
how it occurred? The hope of plunder, no doubt—
instead of working honestly for his bread!”
“JT do not think,” replied Martha, “that plunder
was his only object !”
“ Shocking—shocking !” observed the gentleman.
“His object,” continued the lady, “ was doubt-
less to obtain possession of certain papers which
placed his liberty, if not his life, at my mercy !’?
The magistrate began to appear interested.
«You know the man, then ?”
“ Yes ym
“Shall I retire, Miss Mendez?’ said Clement
Foster ; “ I can state my share in this unfortunate
affair when you have concluded?”
He rose as if with the intention of quitting the
room, and Miss Wyndham, whose curiosity was
excited to the highest pitch, was obliged, for
appearance sake, to follow his example.
« T shall never have such another opportunity of
learning her secret!” she thought spitefully to herself.
“Stay, my dear boy!” replied Martha; “I have
nothing to conceal from you!”
Clement and the young lady both resumed their
seats: the latter with an air of satisfaction which
she could ill disguise.
«You suspect truly, sir!” continued the speaker.
“TI know the man—remember him from childhood!
He was my grandfather's agent in many a dark
transaction which would not bear the light! Ihave
sometimes thought that he was employed by him to
deprive me of a child which I adopted, whose love
was as dearto me as if she had been my own!
Since the death of my relative I have employed
this ruffian in the hitherto fruitless attempt to dis-
cover her! He was in my power! Now you know
the tie between us!
“Was it a female child 2” inquired the magistrate,
vainly attempting to conceal the surprise or interest
which he felt.
“Tt was!”
« And her name?”
« Fanny. or
«One word, more, Miss Mendez,” said the reve-
rend gentleman, ‘and I have done! The name of
this wretched man ?”
“ Miles!” replied Martha, who felt convinced,
from the agitation of the speaker, that he had more
than the ordinary motive suggested by his official duty
for the inquiry.
“How singular! How very singular!’’ exclaimed
the Reverend William Rede. “It is not quite a
year since I saw the child you name !”
«Saw her!”? repeated the mistress of the Grange.
*‘ Where? . For heaven’s sake tell me where! Do
not trifle with my feelings, I implore you! How
looked she? Was she well? Didshe speak of me,
or has she forgotten the friend, the mother that
loved her?”
Her violent agitation, the look of anguish which
accompanied her words, the tears which impeded
them touched the feelings of the cold and heartless
man of the world. For once he permitted his heart
to be softened. To be sure the luxury promised to
be an inexpensive one. As to his relationship to
the wife of the poor harlequin—for he was no other
than the brother of. Madame Du Bast—a few
moments’ consideration convinced him that he need
not avow it. a
“T was in London at the time,” he said, speaking
with great deliberation, as if weighing every word | hi
before he uttered it, “ engaged in a work of charity,
to which my ministry and a slight knowledge of the
family of the unfortunate person whom I visited
called me. After her death, I discovered that a child
named Fanny had been rescued from death by her
husband, and adopted by him under the circumstances
which convince me it must have been the same!
Thave the statement drawn up by the man before
he died, the handkerchief with which the hands of
the little victim were bound, the clothes she wore at
the time.”
ey 2
The reverend gentleman silently winced under
the commendations which conscience whispered him
he had so ill merited. Bitterly did he regret that
he had not acted a more generous part by the friend-
less orphan. © :
“Tintrusted a sum of money to a friend of my
late—of her late protectress,” he replied; “a very
respectable young person—that is, considering her
station in life. They had been much together, and
could not endure the thought of parting. It will
not be difficult to trace her!”
A sigh of bitter disappointment was the only
commentary with which the grand-daughter of Peter
Quin answered his statement.
“ But the statement of the circumstances under
which she was found—the clothes and the handker-
chief—are still in my possession!”
Warmly did Clement Foster congratulate Miss
Mendez on the certainty of recovering her lost trea-
sure, and offered his services to proceed instantly to
London, to consult his father, and prosecute. any
inquiries she wished to make. Miss Wyndham,
with far less sincerity, expressed her joy on the
occasion.
Martha could only press his hand in token of her
gratitude. .
“Softly, young gentleman !”’ said the magistrate,
with a smile ; ‘you forget that your evidence will
be necessary in the examination which I am about
totake! I cannot part with you yet! You have
acted very nobly—most courageously—especially for
one so young; but although I and your friends are
perfectly aware of it, the public must be made
acquainted with it as well! The man may die!”
“Well, sir?” replied the youth.
“ In which case there must be an inquest! The
verdict will be ‘ Justifiable homicide,’ of course ; but
till the result is known, you cannot quit Brierly
Grange!”
“Write for your father, Clement!’ said Miss
Mendez ; ‘his clear head and ready judgment will
be invaluable at such a moment!” ,
There was a gentle tap at the door of the apart-
ment. Mrs Everett came to inform the magistrate
that the surgeon wished to see him. A message
was sent back for him to join them in the library.
When Dr. Marsh made his appearance, he
announced that the wounded man had buta few
hours to live, and added, ‘that it had-never been
his lot to encounter a more hardened wretch. . His
curses,” he said, ‘‘ were fearful.”
“ T will see him!” exclaimed the clergyman ; “it
is my duty, in my double capacity of magistrate
and minister of religion! My exhortations may
awaken him, perhaps, to a sense of his awful state!
To be called to his account in the commission of
crime so suddenly—so unprepared !””
Although the confession of Miles was now a
matter comparatively of little importance—since the
clue to the discovery of Fanny had been obtained
through the speaker—still Martha felt most anxious
that he should succeed. She thought of her grand-
father, and shuddered at the idea of another guilty
creature being summoned to the judgment-seat.
| Assure him of my forgiveness!” she said ; ‘and
that his wife and children shall be cared for!”
When the Reverend William Rede returned to
the picture-gallery, he perceived at a glance that
the prediction of the surgeon was soon to be ac-
complished—death was in every look of the wounded
man. The lines in his hard features had become
more rigid; his-eyes already wore that peculiar
glassy appearance which denotes the near approach
of the King of. Terrors. . He breathed at intervals,
but with great difficulty: the blood which had
accumulated in his chest was gradually choking him.
The minister of peace shuddered at the look of
mingled hate and defiance with which he received
‘im. : .
“ How do you feel?” he asked, ina low tone,
which was intended to convey compassion.
* “Ugh—ugh!. How the devil should I feel?”
muttered Miles, pausing to gather strength between
every word. - “I’m done for—done for !”
“God has been merciful!” observed the reverend
gentleman. nad Dep ot
“Uugh! Hashe? Fine mercy!” :
“He has left you time for repentance—for atone-
ment!” continued his visitor. ‘* Let me entreat you
to use the brief space accorded you !” ,
“Ugh! That’s what the judges say when—ugh!
when they hang a fellow!” interrupted Miles.
“T’ve known ’em cry, too—seen their tears—and
yet—ugh! they will dine off venison and turtle an
hour afterwards! Humbug—all humbug! I ain’t
going to confess,’ he added, fiercely. . “ What I’ve
done I’ve done! . My secret dies with me—that’s
one satisfac—ugh !—tion !”
“It’s a poor one!” observed the clergyman.
“ All that’s left me!” ‘
“But it is not left you!” said the gentleman.
“ With all his wisdom, man is but man in the sight of
is maker. He needs’ not the confession of the
sinner to bring his deeds to light! Conceal them
as he may, a hand divine rends the dark veil aside,
and all is clear! . Before it is too late, repent, an
make atonement !” : :
“Martha sent you!” groaned the ruffian, not in
the least moved by the exhortations of the speaker,
whose cold and unimpassioned manner but ill ac-
corded with his words.
to wheedle me, but it won’t do—ugh !—it won’t do,
I say!” i
“Tmpious !” exclaimed the clergyman ; “ remem-
ber that heaven hears you!”
“ Let it!”
“That it saw you,” continucd the monitor, assum-
ing a stern tone, which was far more in accordance
with his character than the accents of. mercy,
“when you dragged the child from its home! | Its
eye was on you when you led it to the river side—
tied its innocent hands with the coarse chequered
handkerchief—and prepared to plunge it into the
waters which ran murmuring at your feet !’?
As he proceeded the eyes of Miles became dis-
tended with surprise and terror. Like most men
who, during a life of crime, mock at religion, he was
inclined to be superstitious, and the description of
the manner in which he had attempted to carry out
the instructions of his, employer, appeared like a
supernatural revelation.
“A lie !” he shouted, with a violent effort; “a
lie!’ ‘
“A truth,” said the minister of religion; “an
awful truth! Whilst its eye was upon you, its
hand was outstretched to save the innocent victim
of your cruelty! - You were bafiled at the very
moment of your crime !” te
Miles uttered a deep groan. ,
“It baffled you again!”
“TI know—I know !” interrupted the terrified
wretch, whose fears were now completely awakened
by what he considered the supernatural knowledge
of his crimes. ‘Send for Martha! I will confess
everything—everything !”” : fro
«I am the proper person to a
“To her—ugh!—to her, alone, exclaimed the
dying man, impatiently. ‘* She promised to—to do
something for Bet and—ugh !—the—the kids! She
doesn’t know all yet—that I and—ugh !—ugh!”’
_ The violent fit of coughing, followed by the oozing
of blood from his lips, convinced the reverend gentle-
man that there was no time to lose. He rang the
bell, and desired the servant who answered it to in-
form Miss Mendez that the housebreaker entreated
to see her. .
*¢ Alone!” added Miles; “alone! Tell her that
Iam repentant—yes, repentant—that's the word?
I won’t harm her! I could not wring the neck of
a baby now!” he continued, in a tone of mingled
regret and resignation. ot
The Rev. William Rede looked at his penitent
very seriously ; perhaps he began to think it was
quite as well the gentleman did not possess the
strength whose loss he lamented. so_pathetically—
for his glances more than once had betrayed any-
thing but a friendly disposition towards himself.
When Martha heard the request of the dying man,
without the least hesitation she resolved to comply
with it, although she partly guessed the terrible
secret he had to confide to her; she alone had enter-
tained a doubt that the death of Peter Quin was the
work of his own hands. -
It was in vain that Clement Foster and. Miss
Wyndham offered to accompany her. . Their pre-
sence, much to the mortificajion of the. latter, was
,| kindly but firmly declined.
“T have nothing to fear!” she said; “he is past
injuring mel?) CO
' Notwithstanding this assurance, Clement deter-
mined to take his stand at the door of the picture-
gallery, so as to be within call should the ruffian
really attempt to injure her. = - recurs
. As soon as Miles beheld the granddaughter of his
victim, he motioned her to take a seat. = .
“Sit down, Martha !” he said, in a hoarse voice ;
“T have a great deal to tell, and but a short time to
tell it in!”
“Ugh! I know she thinks _