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MISS BERTHA AND THE YANKEE.
by Wilkie Collins
[PRELIMINARY STATEMENTS OF WITNESSES FOR THE DEFENSE, COLLECTED
AT THE OFFICE OF THE SOLICITOR.]
No. 1.--Miss Bertha Laroche, of Nettlegrove Hall, testifies and
says:--
I.
TOWARD the middle of June, in the year 1817, I went to take the
waters at Maplesworth, in Derbyshire, accompanied by my nearest
relative--my aunt.
I am an only child; and I was twenty-one years old at my last
birthday. On coming of age I inherited a house and lands in
Derbyshire, together with a fortune in money of one hundred
thousand pounds. The only education which I have received has
been obtained within the last two or three years of my life; and
I have thus far seen nothing of Society, in England or in any
other civilized part of the world. I can be a competent witness,
it seems, in spite of these disadvantages. Anyhow, I mean to tell
the truth.
My father was a French colonist in the island of Saint Domingo.
He died while I was very young; leaving to my mother and to me
just enough to live on, in the remote part of the island in which
our little property was situated. My mother was an Englishwoman.
Her delicate health made it necessary for her to leave me, for
many hours of the day, under the care of our household slaves. I
can never forget their kindness to me; but, unfortunately, their
ignorance equaled their kindness. If we had been rich enough to
send to France or England for a competent governess we might have
done very well. But we were not rich enough. I am ashamed to say
that I was nearly thirteen years old before I had learned to read
and write correctly.
Four more years passed--and then there came a wonderful event in
our lives, which was nothing less than the change from Saint
Domingo to England.
My mother was distantly related to an ancient and wealthy English
family. She seriously offended those proud people by marrying an
obscure foreigner, who had nothing to live on but his morsel of
land in the West Indies. Having no expectations from her
relatives, my mother preferred happiness with the man she loved
to every other consideration; and I, for one, think she was
right. From that moment she was cast off by the head of the
family. For eighteen years of her life, as wife, mother, and
widow, no letters came to her from her English home. We had just
celebrated my seventeenth birthday when the first letter came. It
informed my mother that no less than three lives, which stood
between her and the inheritance of certain portions of the family
property, had been swept away by death. The estate and the
fortune which I have already mentioned had fallen to her in due
course of law, and her surviving relatives were magnanimously
ready to forgive her at last!
We wound up our affairs at Saint Domingo, and we went to England
to take possession of our new wealth.
At first, the return to her native air seemed to have a
beneficial effect on my mother's health. But it was a temporary
improvement only. Her constitution had been fatally injured by
the West Indian climate, and just as we had engaged a competent
person to look after my neglected education, my constant
attendance was needed at my mother's bedside. We loved each other
dearly, and we wanted no strange nurses to come between us. My
aunt (my mother's sister) relieved me of my cares in the
intervals when I wanted rest.
For seven sad months our dear sufferer lingered. I have only one
remembrance to comfort me; my mother's last kiss was mine--she
died peacefully with her head on my bosom.
I was nearly nineteen years old before I had sufficiently rallied
my courage to be able to think seriously of myself and my
prospects.
At that age one does not willingly submit one's self for the
first time to the authority of a governess. Having my aunt for a
companion and protectress, I proposed to engage my own masters
and to superintend my own education.
My plans failed to meet with the approval of the head of the
family. He declared (most unjustly, as the event proved) that my
aunt was not a fit person to take care of me. She had passed all
the later years of her life in retirement. A good creature, he
admitted, in her own way, but she had no knowledge of the world,
and no firmness of character. The right person to act as my
chaperon, and to superintend my education, was the high-minded
and accomplished woman who had taught his own daughters.
I declined, with all needful gratitude and respect, to take his
advice. The bare idea of living with a stranger so soon after my
mother's death revolted me. Besides, I liked my aunt, and my aunt
liked me. Being made acquainted with my decision, the head of the
family cast me off, exactly as he had cast off my mother before
me.
So I lived in retirement with my good aunt, and studied
industriously to improve my mind until my twenty-first birthday
came. I was now an heiress, privileged to think and act for
myself. My aunt kissed me tenderly. We talked of my poor mother,
and we cried in each other's arms on the memorable day that made
a wealthy woman of me. In a little time more, other troubles than
vain regrets for the dead were to try me, and other tears were to
fill my eyes than the tears which I had given to the memory of my
mother.
II.
I MAY now return to my visit, in June, 1817, to the healing
springs at Maplesworth.
This famous inland watering-place was only between nine and ten
miles from my new home called Nettlegrove Hall. I had been
feeling weak and out of spirits for some months, and our medical
adviser recommended change of scene and a trial of the waters at
Maplesworth. My aunt and I established ourselves in comfortable
apartments, with a letter of introduction to the chief doctor in
the place. This otherwise harmless and worthy man proved,
strangely enough, to be the innocent cause of the trials and
troubles which beset me at the outset of my new life.
The day after we had presented our letter of introduction, we met
the doctor on the public walk. He was accompanied by two
strangers, both young men, and both (so far as my ignorant
opinion went) persons of some distinction, judging by their dress
and manners. The doctor said a few kind words to us, and rejoined
his two companions. Both the gentlemen looked at me, and both
took off their hats as my aunt and I proceeded on our walk.
I own I thought occasionally of the well-bred strangers during
the rest of the day, especially of the shortest of the two, who
was also the handsomest of the two to my thinking. If this
confession seems rather a bold one, remember, if you please, that
I had never been taught to conceal my feelings at Saint Domingo,
and that the events which followed our arrival in England had
kept me completely secluded from the society of other young
ladies of my age.
The next day, while I was drinking my glass of healing water
(extremely nasty water, by the way) the doctor joined us.
While he was asking me about my health, the two strangers made
their appearance again, and took off their hats again. They both
looked expectantly at the doctor, and the doctor (in performance
of a promise which he had already made, as I privately suspected)
formally introduced them to my aunt and to me. First (I put the
handsomest man first) Captain Arthur Stanwick, of the army, home
from India on leave, and staying at Maplesworth to take the
waters; secondly, Mr. Lionel Varleigh, of Boston, in America,
visiting England, after traveling all over Europe, and stopping
at Maplesworth to keep company with his friend the Captain.
On their introduction, the two gentlemen, observing, no doubt,
that I was a little shy, forbore delicately from pressing their
society on us.
Captain Stanwick, with a beautiful smile, and with teeth worthy
of the smile, stroked his whiskers, and asked me if I had found
any benefit from taking the waters. He afterward spoke in great
praise of the charming scenery in the neighborhood of
Maplesworth, and then, turning away, addressed his next words to
my aunt. Mr. Varleigh took his place. Speaking with perfect
gravity, and with no whiskers to stroke, he said:
"I have once tried the waters here out of curiosity. I can
sympathize, miss, with the expression which I observed on your
face when you emptied your glass just now. Permit me to offer you
something nice to take the taste of the waters out of your
mouth." He produced from his pocket a beautiful little box filled
with sugar-plums. "I bought it in Paris," h e explained. "Having
lived a good deal in France, I have got into a habit of making
little presents of this sort to ladies and children. I wouldn't
let the doctor see it, miss, if I were you. He has the usual
medical prejudice against sugar-plums." With that quaint warning,
he, too, made his bow and discreetly withdrew.
Thinking it over afterward, I acknowledged to myself that the
English Captain--although he was the handsomest man of the two,
and possessed the smoothest manners--had failed, nevertheless, to
overcome my shyness. The American traveler's unaffected sincerity
and good-humor, on the other hand, set me quite at my ease. I
could look at him and thank him, and feel amused at his sympathy
with the grimace I had made, after swallowing the ill-flavored
waters. And yet, while I lay awake at night, wondering whether we
should meet our new acquaintances on the next day, it was the
English Captain that I most wanted to see again, and not the
American traveler! At the time, I set this down to nothing more
important than my own perversity. Ah, dear! dear! I know better
than that now.
The next morning brought the doctor to our hotel on a special
visit to my aunt. He invented a pretext for sending me into the
next room, which was so plainly a clumsy excuse that my curiosity
was aroused. I gratified my curiosity. Must I make my confession
plainer still? Must I acknowledge that I was mean enough to
listen on the other side of the door?
I heard my dear innocent old aunt say: "Doctor! I hope you don't
see anything alarming in the state of Bertha's health."
The doctor burst out laughing. "My dear madam! there is nothing
in the state of the young lady's health which need cause the
smallest anxiety to you or to me. The object of my visit is to
justify myself for presenting those two gentlemen to you
yesterday. They are both greatly struck by Miss Bertha's beauty,
and they both urgently entreated me to introduce them. Such
introductions, I need hardly say, are marked exceptions to my
general rule. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred I should have
said No. In the cases of Captain Stanwick and Mr. Varleigh,
however, I saw no reason to hesitate. Permit me to assure you
that I am not intruding on your notice two fortune-hunting
adventurers. They are both men of position and men of property.
The family of the Stanwicks has been well known to me for years;
and Mr. Varleigh brought me a letter from my oldest living
friend, answering for him as a gentleman in the highest sense of
the word. He is the wealthiest man of the two; and it speaks
volumes for him, in my opinion, that he has preserved his
simplicity of character after a long residence in such places as
Paris and Vienna. Captain Stanwick has more polish and ease of
manner, but, looking under the surface, I rather fancy there may
be something a little impetuous and domineering in his temper.
However, we all have our faults. I can only say, for both these
young friends of mine, that you need feel no scruple about
admitting them to your intimacy, if they happen to please
you--and your niece. Having now, I hope, removed any doubts which
may have troubled you, pray recall Miss Bertha. I am afraid I
have interrupted you in discussing your plans for the day."
The smoothly eloquent doctor paused for the moment; and I darted
away from the door.
Our plans for the day included a drive through the famous scenery
near the town. My two admirers met us on horseback. Here, again,
the Captain had the advantage over his friend. His seat in the
saddle and his riding-dress were both perfect things in their
way. The Englishman rode on one side of the carriage and the
American on the other. They both talked well, but Mr. Varleigh
had seen more of the world in general than Captain Stanwick, and
he made himself certainly the more interesting and more amusing
companion of the two.
On our way back my admiration was excited by a thick wood,
beautifully situated on rising ground at a little distance from
the high-road: "Oh, dear," I said, "how I should like to take a
walk in that wood!" Idle, thoughtless words; but, oh, what
remembrances crowd on me as I think of them now!
Captain Stanwick and Mr. Varleigh at once dismounted and offered
themselves as my escort. The coachman warned them to be careful;
people had often lost themselves, he said, in that wood. I asked
the name of it. The name was Herne Wood. My aunt was not very
willing to leave her comfortable seat in the carriage, but it
ended in her going with us.
Before we entered the wood, Mr. Varleigh noted the position of
the high-road by his pocket-compass. Captain Stanwick laughed at
him, and offered me his arm. Ignorant as I was of the ways of the
world and the rules of coquetry, my instinct (I suppose) warned
me not to distinguish one of the gentlemen too readily at the
expense of the other. I took my aunt's arm and settled it in that
way.
A winding path led us into the wood.
On a nearer view, the place disappointed me; the further we
advanced, the more horribly gloomy it grew. The thickly-growing
trees shut out the light; the damp stole over me little by little
until I shivered; the undergrowth of bushes and thickets rustled
at intervals mysteriously, as some invisible creeping creature
passed through it. At a turn in the path we reached a sort of
clearing, and saw the sky and the sunshine once more. But, even
here, a disagreeable incident occurred. A snake wound his
undulating way across the open space, passing close by me, and I
was fool enough to scream. The Captain killed the creature with
his riding-cane, taking a pleasure in doing it which I did not
like to see.
We left the clearing and tried another path, and then another.
And still the horrid wood preyed on my spirits. I agreed with my
aunt that we should do well to return to the carriage. On our way
back we missed the right path, and lost ourselves for the moment.
Mr. Varleigh consulted his compass, and pointed in one direction.
Captain Stanwick, consulting nothing but his own jealous humor,
pointed in the other. We followed Mr. Varleigh's guidance, and
got back to the clearing. He turned to the Captain, and said,
good-humoredly: "You see the compass was right." Captain
Stanwick, answered, sharply: "There are more ways than one out of
an English wood; you talk as if we were in one of your American
forests."
Mr. Varleigh seemed to be at a loss to understand his rudeness;
there was a pause. The two men looked at each other, standing
face to face on the brown earth of the clearing--the Englishman's
ruddy countenance, light auburn hair and whiskers, and
well-opened bold blue eyes, contrasting with the pale complexion,
the keenly-observant look, the dark closely-cut hair, and the
delicately-lined face of the American. It was only for a moment:
I had barely time to feel uneasy before they controlled
themselves and led us back to the carriage, talking as pleasantly
as if nothing had happened. For days afterward, nevertheless,
that scene in the clearing--the faces and figures of the two men,
the dark line of trees hemming them in on all sides, the brown
circular patch of ground on which they stood--haunted my memory,
and got in the way of my brighter and happier thoughts. When my
aunt inquired if I had enjoyed the day, I surprised her by saying
No. And when she asked why, I could only answer: "It was all
spoiled by Herne Wood."
III.
THREE weeks passed.
The terror of those dreadful days creeps over me again when I
think of them. I mean to tell the truth without shrinking; but I
may at least consult my own feelings by dwelling on certain
particulars as briefly as I can. I shall describe my conduct
toward the two men who courted me in the plainest terms, if I say
that I distinguished neither of them. Innocently and stupidly I
encouraged them both.
In books, women are generally represented as knowing their own
minds in matters which relate to love and marriage. This is not
my experience of myself. Day followed day; and, ridiculous as it
may appear, I could not decide which of my two admirers I liked
best!
Captain Stanwick was, at first, the man of my choice. While he
kept his temper under control, h e charmed me. But when he let it
escape him, he sometimes disappointed, sometimes irritated me. In
that frame of mind I turned for relief to Lionel Varleigh,
feeling that he was the more gentle and the more worthy man of
the two, and honestly believing, at such times, that I preferred
him to his rival. For the first few days after our visit to Herne
Wood I had excellent opportunities of comparing them. They paid
their visits to us together, and they divided their attentions
carefully between me and my aunt. At the end of the week,
however, they began to present themselves separately. If I had
possessed any experience of the natures of men, I might have
known what this meant, and might have seen the future possibility
of some more serious estrangement between the two friends, of
which I might be the unfortunate cause. As it was; I never once
troubled my head about what might be passing out of my presence.
Whether they came together, or whether they came separately,
their visits were always agreeable to me. and I thought of
nothing and cared for nothing more.
But the time that was to enlighten me was not far off.
One day Captain Stanwick called much earlier than usual. My aunt
had not yet returned from her morning walk. The Captain made some
excuse for presenting himself under these circumstances which I
have now forgotten.
Without actually committing himself to a proposal of marriage he
spoke with such tender feeling, he managed his hold on my
inexperience so delicately, that he entrapped me into saying some
words, on my side, which I remembered with a certain dismay as
soon as I was left alone again. In half an hour more, Mr. Lionel
Varleigh was announced as my next visitor. I at once noticed a
certain disturbance in his look and manner which was quite new in
my experience of him. I offered him a chair. To my surprise he
declined to take it.
"I must trust to your indulgence to permit me to put an
embarrassing question to you," he began. "It rests with you, Miss
Laroche, to decide whether I shall remain here, or whether I
shall relieve you of my presence by leaving the room."
"What can you possibly mean?" I asked.
"Is it your wish," he went on, "that I should pay you no more
visits except in Captain Stanwick's company, or by Captain
Stanwick's express permission?"
My astonishment deprived me for the moment of the power of
answering him. "Do you really mean that Captain Stanwick has
forbidden you to call on me?" I asked as soon as I could speak.
"I have exactly repeated what Captain Stanwick said to me half an
hour since," Lionel Varleigh answered.
In my indignation at hearing this, I entirely forgot the rash
words of encouragement which the Captain had entrapped me into
speaking to him. When I think of it now, I am ashamed to repeat
the language in which I resented this man's presumptuous
assertion of authority over me. Having committed one act of
indiscretion already, my anxiety to assert my freedom of action
hurried me into committing another. I bade Mr. Varleigh welcome
whenever he chose to visit me, in terms which made his face flush
under the emotions of pleasure and surprise which I had aroused
in him. My wounded vanity acknowledged no restraints. I signed to
him to take a seat on the sofa at my side; I engaged to go to his
lodgings the next day, with my aunt, and see the collection of
curiosities which he had amassed in the course of his travels. I
almost believe, if he had tried to kiss me, that I was angry
enough with the Captain to have let him do it!
Remember what my life had been--remember how ignorantly I had
passed the precious days of my youth, how insidiously a sudden
accession of wealth and importance had encouraged my folly and my
pride--and try, like good Christians, to make some allowance for
me!
My aunt came in from her walk, before Mr. Varleigh's visit had
ended. She received him rather coldly, and he perceived it. After
reminding me of our appointment for the next day, he took his
leave.
"What appointment does Mr. Varleigh mean?" my aunt asked, as soon
as we were alone. "Is it wise, under the circumstances, to make
appointments with Mr. Varleigh?" she said, when I had answered
her question. I naturally inquired what she meant. My aunt
replied, "I have met Captain Stanwick while I was out walking. He
has told me something which I am quite at a loss to understand.
Is it possible, Bertha, that you have received a proposal of
marriage from him favorably, without saying one word about your
intentions to me?"
I instantly denied it. However rashly I might have spoken, I had
certainly said nothing to justify Captain Stanwick in claiming me
as his promised wife. In his mean fear of a fair rivalry with Mr.
Varleigh, he had deliberately misinterpreted me. "If I marry
either of the two," I said, "it will be Mr. Varleigh!"
My aunt shook her head. "These two gentlemen seem to be both in
love with you, Bertha. It is a trying position for you between
them, and I am afraid you have acted with some indiscretion.
Captain Stanwick tells me that he and his friend have come to a
separation already. I fear you are the cause of it. Mr. Varleigh
has left the hotel at which he was staying with the Captain, in
consequence of a disagreement between them this morning. You were
not aware of that when you accepted his invitation. Shall I write
an excuse for you? We must, at least, put off the visit, my dear,
until you have set yourself right with Captain Stanwick."
I began to feel a little alarmed, but I was too obstinate to
yield without a struggle. "Give me time to think over it," I
said. "To write an excuse seems like acknowledging the Captain's
authority. Let us wait till to-morrow morning."
IV.
THE morning brought with it another visit from Captain Stanwick.
This time my aunt was present. He looked at her without speaking,
and turned to me, with his fiery temper showing itself already in
his eyes.
"I have a word to say to you in private," he began.
"I have no secrets from my aunt," I answered. "Whatever you have
to say, Captain Stanwick, may be said here."
He opened his lips to reply, and suddenly checked himself. He was
controlling his anger by so violent an effort that it turned his
ruddy face pale. For the moment he conquered his temper--he
addressed himself to me with the outward appearance of respect at
least.
"Has that man Varleigh lied?" he asked; "or have you given _him_
hopes, too--after what you said to me yesterday?"
"I said nothing to you yesterday which gives you any right to put
that question to me," I rejoined. "You have entirely
misunderstood me, if you think so."
My aunt attempted to say a few temperate words, in the hope of
soothing him. He waved his hand, refusing to listen to her, and
advanced closer to me.
"_You_ have misunderstood _me_," he said, "if you think I am a
man to be made a plaything of in the hands of a coquette!"
My aunt interposed once more, with a resolution which I had not
expected from her.
"Captain Stanwick," she said, "you are forgetting yourself."
He paid no heed to her; he persisted in speaking to me. "It is my
misfortune to love you," he burst out. "My whole heart is set on
you. I mean to be your husband, and no other man living shall
stand in my way. After what you said to me yesterday, I have a
right to consider that you have favored my addresses. This is not
a mere flirtation. Don't think it! I say it's the passion of a
life! Do you hear? It's the passion of a man's whole life! I am
not to be trifled with. I have had a night of sleepless misery
about you--I have suffered enough for you--and you're not worth
it. Don't laugh! This is no laughing matter. Take care, Bertha!
Take care!"
My aunt rose from her chair. She astonished me. On all ordinary
occasions the most retiring, the most feminine of women, she now
walked up to Captain Stanwick and looked him full in the face,
without flinching for an instant.
"You appear to have forgotten that you are speaking in the
presence of two ladies," she said. "Alter your tone, sir, or I
shall be obliged to take my niece out of the room."
Half angry, half frightened, I tried to speak in my turn. My aunt
signed to me to be silent. The Captain drew back a step as if he
felt her reproof. But his eyes, still fixed on me, were as
fiercely bright as ever. _There_ the gentleman's superficial
good-breeding failed to hide the natural man beneath.
"I will leave you in undisturbed possession of the room," he said
to my aunt with bitter politeness. "Before I go, permit me to
give your niece an opportunity of reconsidering her conduct
before it is too late." My aunt drew back, leaving him free to
speak to me. After considering for a moment, he laid his hand
firmly, but not roughly, on my arm. "You have accepted Lionel
Varleigh's invitation to visit him," he said, "under pretense of
seeing his curiosities. Think again before you decide on keeping
that engagement. If you go to Varleigh tomorrow, you will repent
it to the last day of your life." Saying those words, in a tone
which made me tremble in spite of myself, he walked to the door.
As he laid his hand on the lock, he turned toward me for the last
time. "I forbid you to go to Varleigh's lodgings," he said, very
distinctly and quietly. "Understand what I tell you. I forbid
it."
With those words he left us.
My aunt sat down by me and took my hand kindly. "There is only
one thing to be done," she said; "we must return at once to
Nettlegrove. If Captain Stanwick attempts to annoy you in your
own house, we have neighbors who will protect us, and we have Mr.
Loring, our rector, to appeal to for advice. As for Mr. Varleigh,
I will write our excuses myself before we go away."
She put out her hand to ring the bell and order the carriage. I
stopped her. My childish pride urged me to assert myself in some
way, after the passive position that I had been forced to occupy
during the interview with Captain Stanwick.
"No," I said, "it is not acting fairly toward Mr. Varleigh to
break our engagement with him. Let us return to Nettlegrove by
all means, but let us first call on Mr. Varleigh and take our
leave. Are we to behave rudely to a gentleman who has always
treated us with the utmost consideration, because Captain
Stanwick has tried to frighten us by cowardly threats? The
commonest feeling of self-respect forbids it."
My aunt protested against this outbreak of folly with perfect
temper and good sense. But my obstinacy (my firmness as I thought
it!) was immovable. I left her to choose between going with me to
Mr. Varleigh, or letting me go to him by myself. Finding it
useless to resist, she decided, it is needless to say, on going
with me.
We found Mr. Varleigh very courteous, but more than usually grave
and quiet. Our visit only lasted for a few minutes; my aunt using
the influence of her age and her position to shorten it. She
mentioned family affairs as the motive which recalled us to
Nettlegrove. I took it on myself to invite Mr. Varleigh to visit
me at my own house. He bowed and thanked me, without engaging
himself to accept the invitation. When I offered him my hand at
parting, he raised it to his lips, and kissed it with a fervor
that agitated me. His eyes looked into mine with a sorrowful
admiration, with a lingering regret, as if they were taking their
leave of me for a long while. "Don't forget me!" he whispered, as
he stood at the door, while I followed my aunt out. "Come to
Nettlegrove," I whispered back. His eyes dropped to the ground;
he let me go without a word more.
This, I declare solemnly, was all that passed at our visit. By
some unexpressed consent among us, no allusion whatever was made
to Captain Stanwick; not even his name was mentioned. I never
knew that the two men had met, just before we called on Mr.
Varleigh. Nothing was said which could suggest to me the
slightest suspicion of any arrangement for another meeting
between them later in the day. Beyond the vague threats which had
escaped Captain Stanwick's lips--threats which I own I was rash
enough to despise--I had no warning whatever of the dreadful
events which happened at Maplesworth on the day after our return
to Nettlegrove Hall.
I can only add that I am ready to submit to any questions that
may be put to me. Pray don't think me a heartless woman. My worst
fault was ignorance. In those days, I knew nothing of the false
pretenses under which men hide what is selfish and savage in
their natures from the women whom it is their interest to
deceive.
No. 2.--Julius Bender, fencing-master, testifies and says:--
I am of German nationality; established in England as teacher of
the use of the sword and the pistol since the beginning of the
present year.
Finding business slack in London, it unfortunately occurred to me
to try what I could do in the country. I had heard of Maplesworth
as a place largely frequented by visitors on account of the
scenery, as well as by invalids in need of taking the waters; and
I opened a gallery there at the beginning of the season of 1817,
for fencing and pistol practice. About the visitors I had not
been deceived; there were plenty of idle young gentlemen among
them who might have been expected to patronize my establishment.
They showed the most barbarous indifference to the noble art of
attack and defense--came by twos and threes, looked at my
gallery, and never returned. My small means began to fail me.
After paying my expenses, I was really at my wits' end to find a
few pounds to go on with, in the hope of better days.
One gentleman, I remember, who came to see me, and who behaved
most liberally.
He described himself as an American, and said he had traveled a
great deal. As my ill luck would have it, he stood in no need of
my instructions. On the two or three occasions when he amused
himself with my foils and my pistols, he proved to be one of the
most expert swordsmen and one of the finest shots that I ever met
with. It was not wonderful: he had by nature cool nerves and a
quick eye; and he had been taught by the masters of the art in
Vienna and Paris.
Early in July--the 9th or 10th of the month, I think--I was
sitting alone in my gallery, looking ruefully enough at the last
two sovereigns in my purse, when a gentleman was announced who
wanted a lesson. "A _private_ lesson," he said, with emphasis,
looking at the man who cleaned and took care of my weapons.
I sent the man out of the room. The stranger (an Englishman, and,
as I fancied, judging by outward appearances, a military man as
well) took from his pocket-book a fifty-pound banknote, and held
it up before me. "I have a heavy wager depending on a fencing
match," he said, "and I have no time to improve myself. Teach me
a trick which will make me a match for a man skilled in the use
of the foil, and keep the secret--and there are fifty pounds for
you."
I hesitated. I did indeed hesitate, poor as I was. But this devil
of a man held his banknote before me whichever way I looked, and
I had only two pounds left in the world!
"Are you going to fight a duel?'' I asked.
"I have already told you what I am going to do," he answered.
I waited a little. The infernal bank-note still tempted me. In
spite of myself, I tried him again.
"If I teach you the trick," I persisted, "will you undertake to
make no bad use of your lesson?"
"Yes, " he said, impatiently enough.
I was not quite satisfied yet.
"Will you promise it, on your word of honor?" I asked.
"Of course I will," he answered. "Take the money, and don't keep
me waiting any longer."
I took the money, and I taught him the trick--and I regretted it
almost as soon as it was done. Not that I knew, mind, of any
serious consequences that followed; for I returned to London the
next morning. My sentiments were those of a man of honor, who
felt that he had degraded his art, and who could not be quite
sure that he might not have armed the hand of an assassin as
well. I have no more to say.
No. 3.--Thomas Outwater, servant to Captain Stanwick, testifies
and says:--
If I did not firmly believe my master to be out of his senses, no
punishment that I could receive would prevail upon me to tell of
him what I am going to tell now.
But I say he is mad, and therefore not accountable for what he
has done--mad for love of a young woman. If I could have my way,
I should like to twist her neck, though she _is_ a lady, and a gr
eat heiress into the bargain. Before she came between them, my
master and Mr. Varleigh were more like brothers than anything
else. She set them at variance, and whether she meant to do it or
not is all the same to me. I own I took a dislike to her when I
first saw her. She was one of the light-haired, blue-eyed sort,
with an innocent look and a snaky waist--not at all to be
depended on, as I have found them.
I hear I am not expected to give an account of the disagreement
between the two gentlemen, of which this lady was the cause. I am
to state what I did in Maplesworth, and what I saw afterward in
Herne Wood. Poor as I am, I would give a five-pound note to
anybody who could do it for me. Unfortunately, I must do it for
myself.
On the 10th of July, in the evening, my master went, for the
second time that day, to Mr. Varleigh's lodgings.
I am certain of the date, because it was the day of publication
of the town newspaper, and there was a law report in it which set
everybody talking. There had been a duel with pistols, a day or
two before, between a resident in the town and a visitor, caused
by some dispute about horses. Nothing very serious came of the
meeting. One of the men only was hurt, and the wound proved to be
of no great importance. The awkward part of the matter was that
the constables appeared on the ground, before the wounded man had
been removed. He and his two seconds were caught, and the
prisoners were committed for trial. Dueling (the magistrates
said) was an inhuman and unchristian practice, and they were
determined to put the law in force and stop it. This sentence
made a great stir in the town, and fixed the date, as I have just
said, in my mind.
Having been accidentally within hearing of some of the disputes
concerning Miss Laroche between my master and Mr. Varleigh, I had
my misgivings about the Captain's second visit to the friend with
whom he had quarreled already. A gentleman called on him, soon
after he had gone out, on important business. This gave me an
excuse for following him to Mr. Varleigh's rooms with the
visitor's card, and I took the opportunity.
I heard them at high words on my way upstairs, and waited a
little on the landing. The Captain was in one of his furious
rages; Mr. Varleigh was firm and cool as usual. After listening
for a minute or so, I heard enough (in my opinion) to justify me
in entering the room. I caught my master in the act of lifting
his cane--threatening to strike Mr. Varleigh. He instantly
dropped his hand, and turned on me in a fury at my intrusion.
Taking no notice of this outbreak of temper, I gave him his
friend's card, and went out. A talk followed in voices too low
for me to hear outside the room, and then the Captain approached
the door. I got out of his way, feeling very uneasy about what
was to come next. I could not presume to question Mr. Varleigh.
The only thing I could think of was to tell the young lady's aunt
what I had seen and heard, and to plead with Miss Laroche herself
to make peace between them. When I inquired for the ladies at
their lodgings, I was told that they had left Maplesworth.
I saw no more of the Captain that night.
The next morning he seemed to be quite himself again. He said to
me, "Thomas, I am going sketching in Herne Wood. Take the
paint-box and the rest of it, and put this into the carriage."
He handed me a packet as thick as my arm, and about three feet
long, done up in many folds of canvas. I made bold to ask what it
was. He answered that it was an artist's sketching umbrella,
packed for traveling.
In an hour's time, the carriage stopped on the road below Herne
Wood. My master said he would carry his sketching things himself,
and I was to wait with the carriage. In giving him the so-called
umbrella, I took the occasion of his eye being off me for the
moment to pass my hand over it carefully; and I felt, through the
canvas, the hilt of a sword. As an old soldier, I could not be
mistaken--the hilt of a sword.
What I thought, on making this discovery, does not much matter.
What I did was to watch the Captain into the wood, and then to
follow him.
I tracked him along the path to where there was a clearing in the
midst of the trees. There he stopped, and I got behind a tree. He
undid the canvas, and produced _two_ swords concealed in the
packet. If I had felt any doubts before, I was certain of what
was coming now. A duel without seconds or witnesses, by way of
keeping the town magistrates in the dark--a duel between my
master and Mr. Varleigh! As his name came into my mind, the man
himself appeared, making his way into the clearing from the other
side of the wood.
What could I do to stop it? No human creature was in sight. The
nearest village was a mile away, reckoning from the further side
of the wood. The coachman was a stupid old man, quite useless in
a difficulty, even if I had had time enough to go back to the
road and summon him to help me. While I was thinking about it,
the Captain and Mr. Varleigh had stripped to their shirts and
trousers. When they crossed their swords, I could stand it no
longer--I burst in on them. "For God Almighty's sake, gentlemen,"
I cried out, "don't fight without seconds!" My master turned on
me, like the madman he was, and threatened me with the point of
his sword. Mr. Varleigh pulled me back out of harm's way. "Don't
be afraid," he whispered, as he led me back to the verge of the
clearing; "I have chosen the sword instead of the pistol
expressly to spare his life."
Those noble words (spoken by as brave and true a man as ever
breathed) quieted me. I knew Mr. Varleigh had earned the repute
of being one of the finest swordsmen in Europe.
The duel began. I was placed behind my master, and was
consequently opposite to his antagonist. The Captain stood on his
defense, waiting for the other to attack. Mr. Varleigh made a
pass. I was opposite the point of his sword; I saw it touch the
Captain's left shoulder. In the same instant of time my master
struck up his opponent's sword with his own weapon, seized Mr.
Varleigh's right wrist in his left hand, and passed his sword
clean through Mr. Varleigh's breast. He fell, the victim of a
murderous trick--fell without a word or a cry.
The Captain turned slowly, and faced me with his bloody sword in
his hand. I can't tell you how he looked; I can only say that the
sight of him turned me faint with terror. I was at Waterloo--I am
no coward. But I tell you the cold sweat poured down my face like
water. I should have dropped if I had not held by the branch of a
tree.
My master waited until I had in a measure recovered myself. "Feel
if his heart beats," he said, pointing to the man on the ground.
I obeyed. He was dead--the heart was still; the beat of the pulse
was gone. I said, "You have killed him!"
The Captain made no answer. He packed up the two swords again in
the canvas, and put them under his arm. Then he told me to follow
him with the sketching materials. I drew back from him without
speaking; there was a horrid hollow sound in his voice that I did
not like. "Do as I tell you," he said: "you have yourself to
thank for it if I refuse to lose sight of you now." I managed to
say that he might trust me to say nothing. He refused to trust
me; he put out his hand to take hold of me. I could not stand
that. "I'll go with you," I said; "don't touch me!" We reached
the carriage and returned to Maplesworth. The same day we
traveled by post to London.
In London I contrived to give the Captain the slip. By the first
coach the next morning I want back to Maplesworth, eager to hear
what had happened, and if the body had been found. Not a word of
news reached me; nothing seemed to be known of the duel in Herne
Wood.
I went to the wood--on foot, fearing that I might be traced if I
hired a carriage. The country round was as solitary as usual. Not
a creature was near when I entered the wood; not a creature was
near when I looked into the clearing.
There was nothing on the ground. The body was gone.
No. 4.--The Reverend Alfred Loring, Rector of Nettlegrove,
testifies and says:--
I.
EARLY in the month of October, 1817, I was informed that Miss
Bertha Laroche had called at
my house, and wished to see me in private.
I had first been presented to Miss Laroche on her arrival, with
her aunt, to take possession of her property at Nettlegrove Hall.
My opportunities of improving my acquaintance with her had not
been so numerous as I could have desired, and I sincerely
regretted it. She had produced a very favorable impression on me.
Singularly inexperienced and impulsive--with an odd mixture of
shyness and vivacity in her manner, and subject now and then to
outbursts of vanity and petulance which she was divertingly
incapable of concealing--I could detect, nevertheless, under the
surface the signs which told of a true and generous nature, of a
simple and pure heart. Her personal appearance, I should add, was
attractive in a remarkable degree. There was something in it so
peculiar, and at the same time so fascinating, that I am
conscious it may have prejudiced me in her favor. For fear of
this acknowledgment being misunderstood, I think it right to add
that I am old enough to be her grandfather, and that I am also a
married man.
I told the servant to show Miss Laroche into my study.
The moment she entered the room, her appearance alarmed me: she
looked literally panic-stricken. I offered to send for my wife;
she refused the proposal. I entreated her to take time at least
to compose herself. It was not in her impulsive nature to do
this. She said, "Give me your hand to encourage me, and let me
speak while I can." I gave her my hand, poor soul. I said, "Speak
to me, my dear, as if I were your father."
So far as I could understand the incoherent statement which she
addressed to me, she had been the object of admiration (while
visiting Maplesworth) of two gentlemen, who both desired to marry
her. Hesitating between them and perfectly inexperienced in such
matters, she had been the unfortunate cause of enmity between the
rivals, and had returned to Nettlegrove, at her aunt's
suggestion, as the best means of extricating herself from a very
embarrassing position. The removal failing to alleviate her
distressing recollections of what had happened, she and her aunt
had tried a further change by making a tour of two months on the
Continent. She had returned in a more quiet frame of mind. To her
great surprise, she had heard nothing of either of her two
suitors, from the day when she left Maplesworth to the day when
she presented herself at my rectory.
Early that morning she was walking, after breakfast, in the park
at Nettlegrove when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned,
and found herself face to face with one of her suitors at
Maplesworth. I am informed that there is no necessity now for my
suppressing the name. The gentleman was Captain Stanwick.
He was so fearfully changed for the worse that she hardly knew
him again.
After his first glance at her, he held his hand over his
bloodshot eyes as if the sunlight hurt them. Without a word to
prepare her for the disclosure, he confessed that he had killed
Mr. Varleigh in a duel. His remorse (he declared) had unsettled
his reason: only a few days had passed since he had been released
from confinement in an asylum.
"You are the cause of it," he said wildly. "It is for love of
you. I have but one hope left to live for--my hope in you. If you
cast me off, my mind is made up. I will give my life for the life
that I have taken; I will die by my own hand. Look at me, and you
will see that I am in earnest. My future as a living man depends
on your decision. Think of it to-day, and meet me here to-morrow.
Not at this time; the horrid daylight feels like fire in my eyes,
and goes like fire to my brain. Wait till sunset--you will find
me here."
He left her as suddenly as he had appeared. When she had
sufficiently recovered herself to be able to think, she decided
on saying nothing of what had happened to her aunt. She took her
way to the rectory to seek my advice.
It is needless to encumber my narrative by any statement of the
questions which I felt it my duty to put to her under these
circumstances. My inquiries informed me that Captain Stanwick had
in the first instance produced a favorable impression on her. The
less showy qualities of Mr. Varleigh had afterward grown on her
liking; aided greatly by the repelling effect on her mind of the
Captain's violent language and conduct when he had reason to
suspect that his rival was being preferred to him. When she knew
the horrible news of Mr. Varleigh's death, she "knew her own
heart" (to repeat her exact words to me) by the shock that she
felt. Toward Captain Stanwick the only feeling of which she was
now conscious was, naturally, a feeling of the strongest
aversion.
My own course in this difficult and painful matter appeared to me
to be clear. "It is your duty as a Christian to see this
miserable man again," I said. "And it is my duty as your friend
and pastor, to sustain you under the trial. I will go with you
to-morrow to the place of meeting.
II.
THE next evening we found Captain Stanwick waiting for us in the
park.
He drew back on seeing me. I explained to him, temperately and
firmly, what my position was. With sullen looks he resigned
himself to endure my presence. By degrees I won his confidence.
My first impression of him remains unshaken--the man's reason was
unsettled. I suspected that the assertion of his release was a
falsehood, and that he had really escaped from the asylum. It was
impossible to lure him into telling me where the place was. He
was too cunning to do this--too cunning to say anything about his
relations, when I tried to turn the talk that way next. On the
other hand, he spoke with a revolting readiness of the crime that
he had committed, and of his settled resolution to destroy
himself if Miss Laroche refused to be his wife. "I have nothing
else to live for; I am alone in the world," he said. "Even my
servant has deserted me. He knows how I killed Lionel Varleigh."
He paused and spoke his next words in a whisper to me. "I killed
him by a trick--he was the best swordsman of the two."
This confession was so horrible that I could only attribute it to
an insane delusion. On pressing my inquiries, I found that the
same idea must have occurred to the poor wretch's relations, and
to the doctors who signed the certificates for placing him under
medical care. This conclusion (as I afterward heard) was greatly
strengthened by the fact that Mr. Varleigh's body had not been
found on the reported scene of the duel. As to the servant, he
had deserted his master in London, and had never reappeared. So
far as my poor judgment went, the question before me was not of
delivering a self-accused murderer to justice (with no corpse to
testify against him), but of restoring an insane man to the care
of the persons who had been appointed to restrain him.
I tried to test the strength of his delusion in an interval when
he was not urging his shocking entreaties on Miss Laroche. "How
do you know that you killed Mr. Varleigh?" I said.
He looked at me with a wild terror in his eyes. Suddenly he
lifted his right hand, and shook it in the air, with a moaning
cry, which was unmistakably a cry of pain. "Should I see his
ghost," he asked, "if I had not killed him? I know it, by the
pain that wrings me in the hand that stabbed him. Always in my
right hand! always the same pain at the moment when I see him!"
He stopped and ground his teeth in the agony and reality of his
delusion. "Look!" he cried. "Look between the two trees behind
you. There he is--with his dark hair, and his shaven face, and
his steady look! There he is, standing before me as he stood in
the wood, with his eyes on my eyes, and his sword feeling mine!"
He turned to Miss Laroche. "Do _you_ see him too?" he asked
eagerly. "Tell me the truth. My whole life depends on your
telling me the truth."
She controlled herself with a wonderful courage. "I don't see
him," she answered.
He took out his handkerchief, and passed it over his face with a
gasp of relief. "There is my last chance!" he said. "If she will
be true to me--if she will be always near me, morning, noon, and
night, I shall be released from the sight of him. See! he is
fading away already! Gone!" h e cried, with a scream of
exultation. He fell on his knees, and looked at Miss Laroche like
a savage adoring his idol. "Will you cast me off now?" he asked,
humbly. "Lionel was fond of you in his lifetime. His spirit is a
merciful spirit. He shrinks from frightening you, he has left me
for your sake; he will release me for your sake. Pity me, take me
to live with you--and I shall never see him again!"
It was dreadful to hear him. I saw that the poor girl could
endure no more. "Leave us," I whispered to her; "I will join you
at the house.
He heard me, and instantly placed himself between us. "Let her
promise, or she shan't go."
She felt, as I felt, the imperative necessity of saying anything
that might soothe him. At a sign from me she gave him her promise
to return.
He was satisfied--he insisted on kissing her hand, and then he
let her go. I had by this time succeeded in inducing him to trust
me. He proposed, of his own accord, that I should accompany him
to the inn in the village at which he had been staying. The
landlord (naturally enough distrusting his wretched guest) had
warned him that morning to find some other place of shelter. I
engaged to use my influence with the man to make him change his
purpose, and I succeeded in effecting the necessary arrangements
for having the poor wretch properly looked after. On my return to
my own house, I wrote to a brother magistrate living near me, and
to the superintendent of our county asylum, requesting them to
consult with me on the best means of lawfully restraining Captain
Stanwick until we could communicate with his relations. Could I
have done more than this? The event of the next morning answered
that question--answered it at once and forever.
III.
PRESENTING myself at Nettlegrove Hall toward sunset, to take
charge of Miss Laroche, I was met by an obstacle in the shape of
a protest from her aunt.
This good lady had been informed of the appearance of Captain
Stanwick in the park, and she strongly disapproved of encouraging
any further communication with him on the part of her niece. She
also considered that I had failed in my duty in still leaving the
Captain at liberty. I told her that I was only waiting to act on
the advice of competent persons, who would arrive the next day to
consult with me; and I did my best to persuade her of the wisdom
of the course that I had taken in the meantime. Miss Laroche, on
her side, was resolved to be true to the promise that she had
given. Between us, we induced her aunt to yield on certain
conditions.
"I know the part of the park in which the meeting is to take
place," the old lady said; "it is my niece's favorite walk. If
she is not brought back to me in half an hour's time, I shall
send the men-servants to protect her."
The twilight was falling when we reached the appointed place. We
found Captain Stanwick angry and suspicious; it was not easy to
pacify him on the subject of our delay. His insanity seemed to me
to be now more marked than ever. He had seen, or dreamed of
seeing, the ghost during the past night. For the first time (he
said) the apparition of the dead man had spoken to him. In solemn
words it had condemned him to expiate his crime by giving his
life for the life that he had taken. It had warned him not to
insist on marriage with Bertha Laroche: "She shall share your
punishment if she shares your life. And you shall know it by this
sign--_She shall see me as you see me._
I tried to compose him. He shook his head in immovable despair.
"No," he answered; "if she sees him when I see him, there ends
the one hope of release that holds me to life. It will be good-by
between us, and good-by forever!"
We had walked on, while we were speaking, to a part of the park
through which there flowed a rivulet of clear water. On the
further bank, the open ground led down into a wooded valley. On
our side of the stream rose a thick plantation of fir-trees
intersected by a winding path. Captain Stanwick stopped as we
reached the place. His eyes rested, in the darkening twilight, on
the narrow space pierced by the path among the trees. On a sudden
he lifted his right hand, with the same cry of pain which we had
heard before; with his left hand he took Miss Laroche by the arm.
"There!" he said. "Look where I look! Do you see him there?"
As the words passed his lips, a dimly-visible figure appeared,
advancing toward us along the path.
Was it the figure of a living man? or was it the creation of my
own excited fancy? Before I could ask myself the question, the
man advanced a step nearer to us. A last gleam of the dying light
fell on his face through an opening in the trees. At the same
instant Miss Laroche started back from Captain Stanwick with a
scream of terror. She would have fallen if I had not been near
enough to support her. The Captain was instantly at her side
again. "Speak!" he cried. "Do _you_ see it, too?"
She was just able to say "Yes" before she fainted in my arms.
He stooped over her, and touched her cold cheek with his lips.
"Goodby!" he said, in tones suddenly and strangely changed to the
most exquisite tenderness. "Good-by, forever!"
He leaped the rivulet; he crossed the open ground; he was lost to
sight in the valley beyond.
As he disappeared, the visionary man among the fir-trees
advanced; passed in silence; crossed the rivulet at a bound; and
vanished as the figure of the Captain had vanished before him.
I was left alone with the swooning woman. Not a sound, far or
near, broke the stillness of the coming night.
No 5.--Mr. Frederic Darnel, Member of the College of Surgeons,
testifies and says:--
IN the intervals of my professional duty I am accustomed to
occupy myself in studying Botany, assisted by a friend and
neighbor, whose tastes in this respect resemble my own. When I
can spare an hour or two from my patients, we go out together
searching for specimens. Our favorite place is Herne Wood. It is
rich in material for the botanist, and it is only a mile distant
from the village in which I live.
Early in July, my friend and I made a discovery in the wood of a
very alarming and unexpected kind. We found a man in the
clearing, prostrated by a dangerous wound, and to all appearance
dead.
We carried him to the gamekeeper's cottage on the outskirts of
the woods, and on the side of it nearest to our village. He and
his boy were out, but the light cart in which he makes his
rounds, in the remoter part of his master's property, was in the
outhouse. While my friend was putting the horse to, I examined
the stranger's wound. It had been quite recently inflicted, and I
doubted whether it had (as yet, at any rate) really killed him. I
did what I could with the linen and cold water which the
gamekeeper's wife offered to me, and then my friend and I removed
him carefully to my house in the cart. I applied the necessary
restoratives, and I had the pleasure of satisfying myself that
the vital powers had revived. He was perfectly unconscious, of
course, but the action of the heart became distinctly
perceptible, and I had hopes.
In a few days more I felt fairly sure of him. Then the usual
fever set in. I was obliged, in justice to his friends, to search
his clothes in presence of a witness. We found his handkerchief,
his purse, and his cigar-case, and nothing more. No letters or
visiting cards; nothing marked on his clothes but initials. There
was no help for it but to wait to identify him until he could
speak.
When that time came, he acknowledged to me that he had divested
himself purposely of any clew to his identity, in the fear (if
some mischance happened to him) of the news of it reaching his
father and mother abruptly, by means of the newspapers. He had
sent a letter to his bankers in London, to be forwarded to his
parents, if the bankers neither saw him nor heard from him in a
month's time. His first act was to withdraw this letter. The
other particulars which he communicated to me are, I am told,
already known. I need only add that I willingly kept his secret,
simply speaking of him in the neighborhood as a traveler from
foreign parts who had met with an accident.
His convalescence was a long one. It was the beginning of Octob
er before he was completely restored to health. When he left us
he went to London. He behaved most liberally to me; and we parted
with sincere good wishes on either side.
No. 6.--_Mr. Lionel Varleigh, of Boston, U. S. A., testifies and
says:--_
MY first proceeding, on my recovery, was to go to the relations
of Captain Stanwick in London, for the purpose of making
inquiries about him.
I do not wish to justify myself at the expense of that miserable
man. It is true that I loved Miss Laroche too dearly to yield her
to any rival except at her own wish. It is also true that Captain
Stanwick more than once insulted me, and that I endured it. He
had suffered from sunstroke in India, and in his angry moments he
was hardly a responsible being. It was only when he threatened me
with personal chastisement that my patience gave way. We met
sword in hand. In my mind was the resolution to spare his life.
In his mind was the resolution to kill me. I have forgiven him. I
will say no more.
His relations informed me of the symptoms of insane delusion
which he had shown after the duel; of his escape from the asylum
in which he had been confined; and of the failure to find him
again.
The moment I heard this news the dread crossed my mind that
Stanwick had found his way to Miss Laroche. In an hour more I was
traveling to Nettlegrove Hall.
I arrived late in the evening, and found Miss Laroche's aunt in
great alarm about her niece's safety. The young lady was at that
very moment speaking to Stanwick in the park, with only an old
man (the rector) to protect her. I volunteered to go at once, and
assist in taking care of her. A servant accompanied me to show me
the place of meeting. We heard voices indistinctly, but saw no
one. The servant pointed to a path through the fir-trees. I went
on quickly by myself, leaving the man within call. In a few
minutes I came upon them suddenly, at a little distance from me,
on the bank of a stream.
The fear of seriously alarming Miss Laroche, if I showed myself
too suddenly, deprived me for a moment of my presence of mind.
Pausing to consider what it might be best to do, I was less
completely protected from discovery by the trees than I had
supposed. She had seen me; I heard her cry of alarm. The instant
afterward I saw Stanwick leap over the rivulet and take to
flight. That action roused me. Without stopping for a word of
explanation, I pursued him.
Unhappily, I missed my footing in the obscure light, and fell on
the open ground beyond the stream. When I had gained my feet once
more, Stanwick had disappeared among the trees which marked the
boundary of the park beyond me. I could see nothing of him, and I
could hear nothing of him, when I came out on the high-road.
There I met with a laboring man who showed me the way to the
village. From the inn I sent a letter to Miss Laroche's aunt,
explaining what had happened, and asking leave to call at the
Hall on the next day.
Early in the morning the rector came to me at the inn. He brought
sad news. Miss Laroche was suffering from a nervous attack, and
my visit to the Hall must be deferred. Speaking next of the
missing man, I heard all that Mr. Loring could tell me. My
intimate knowledge of Stanwick enabled me to draw my own
conclusion from the facts. The thought instantly crossed my mind
that the poor wretch might have committed his expiatory suicide
at the very spot on which he had attempted to kill me. Leaving
the rector to institute the necessary inquiries, I took
post-horses to Maplesworth on my way to Herne Wood.
Advancing from the high-road to the wood, I saw two persons at a
little distance from me--a man in the dress of a gamekeeper, and
a lad. I was too much agitated to take any special notice of
them; I hurried along the path which led to the clearing. My
presentiment had not misled me. There he lay, dead on the scene
of the duel, with a blood-stained razor by his side! I fell on my
knees by the corpse; I took his cold hand in mine; and I thanked
God that I had forgiven him in the first days of my recovery.
I was still kneeling, when I felt myself seized from behind. I
struggled to my feet, and confronted the gamekeeper. He had
noticed my hurry in entering the wood; his suspicions had been
aroused, and he and the lad had followed me. There was blood on
my clothes; there was horror in my face. Appearances were plainly
against me; I had no choice but to accompany the gamekeeper to
the nearest magistrate.
My instructions to my solicitor forbade him to vindicate my
innocence by taking any technical legal objections to the action
of the magistrate or of the coroner. I insisted on my witnesses
being summoned to the lawyer's office, and allowed to state, in
their own way, what they could truly declare on my behalf; and I
left my defense to be founded upon the materials thus obtained.
In the meanwhile I was detained in custody, as a matter of
course.
With this event the tragedy of the duel reached its culminating
point. I was accused of murdering the man who had attempted to
take my life!
This last incident having been related, all that is worth
noticing in my contribution to the present narrative comes to an
end. I was tried in due course of law. The evidence taken at my
solicitor's office was necessarily altered in form, though not in
substance, by the examination to which the witnesses were
subjected in a court of justice. So thoroughly did our defense
satisfy the jury, that they became restless toward the close of
the proceedings, and returned their verdict of Not Guilty without
quitting the box.
When I was a free man again, it is surely needless to dwell on
the first use that I made of my honorable acquittal. Whether I
deserved the enviable place that I occupied in Bertha's
estimation, it is not for me to say. Let me leave the decision to
the lady who has ceased to be Miss Laroche--I mean the lady who
has been good enough to become my wife.
End of Miss Bertha and the Yankee
This etext was retrieved by ftp from ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg
It is also available from www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg
[Italics are indicatedby underscores
James Rusk, jrusk@cyberramp.net.]
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