THE SARATOGA TRUNK.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIV, Issue 4334, 5 April 1884, Page 3

THE SARATOGA TRUNK.

[By Mary Kyle Dallas.]

Eliza Oaklet had been in the service of an excellent lady who was very kind to her. She was a smart girl, but not conscientious, and with an idea that impertinence was self-respect. So she had, as she believed, asserted her dignity by refusing to do something not quite in her own department, but which she was asked to do kindly, and ill-feeling had been the consequence, and she had given warning. She was now packing her trunk to go to a great city where she had no friends. She had spent all her wages beforehand—owing dressmaker and milliner, and the confectioner in tho village, and had very little money left. She could not hope to find so kind and considerate a mistress or so good a home very speedily ; but though all that was required of her was a respectful apology, she would not make it. The fault had been entirely on her own side, and for that very reason sho was implacable. She packed her trunk, called tho man to help her carry it to the waiting-waggon, perched herself upon it, and set off, and was left at the station half an hour before the train arrived. There was no one in tho waiting-room at first, but shortly there arrived a lady, who brought with her a large Saratoga trunk, a small one, and a portmanteau. These things were set in the usual place, and checks given for them—three tied together on a little string. These the lady dropped into her reticule, and wrapping her blue veil about her face, fell to pacing the platform. When at last they got aboard the train it happened that she sat directly in front of Eliza Oakley. At first she sat very quietly, hardly seeming to breathe. Then she opened hor bag, and took out her checks. Eliza saw the numbers upon them—so, 51, and 52. Tho cord tying them together was knotted loosely. She untied tho knot, and slipped the check bearing tho number 51 from the cord, and putting the others into her bag again, began to play with this. Eliza remembered that 51 was the number of the check that had beon put upon tho Saratoga trunk. Soon it droppod into her lap, and she left it there. " You are mighty careless, I'm sure,' thought Eliza. "No doubt you'vo got hundreds of dollars' worth of good clothes in that trunk, and I suppose it is no more to you than one dress to me." As she spoke she heard a little tinkling sound. The check had fallen from the lady's lap to the floor. Eliza had never been dishonest, but she was covetous and envious. Besides, at that moment she had a bad opinion of ladies, as her employer doubtless had of servants. "■She was not going to trouble herself to tell the lady she had dropped something," she said to herself. And the lady did not discover the fact for herself. At the New York depot she got out without picking it up, and hurried directly to the baggageroom. Eliza herself picked up the check and followed her. The lady certainly would be ready to give a reward for finding, such an important thing, she thought. She would wait until "a fuss " began to be made about it, and then corns in with the check, asking the lady if it belonged to her. But the plan failed. The lady presented her two checks, had her small trunk and portmanteau carried to a waiting hack, and seemed to forget all about her large trunk. "Well?" asked the baggage-master, approaching Eliza. '' My trunk," said the girl. She put her own check into his hand. "Both of them," said the man impatiently. The temptation was offered. Eliza gave him both checks, and ten minutes after was bargaining with a cartman, who wanted extra pay for " a great trunk like that." Her heart was beating wildly. What treasuresof lace, silk, velvet, jewellery, even money, might not be in that fine trunk, now her own, to all intents and purposes ? "And I never did anything at all," argued Eliza to herself. '' It was just given to me like—l didn't say a word." All the same, the feet of an approaching policeman made her start, and she was sick with terror before she left the depot.

At the boarding-house of Mrs McGillup, rooms were small and crowded—there were many young women out of place—and five slept in one large room, and three in a hall bedroom. Mrs McGillup [and family " made down " beds in the general sittingroom for their own -accomodation; and a cook, who had taken to drink and was not in great demand in consequence, slept in a rocking chair behind a curtain in the same apartment. Trunks were stowed away, and there was no opportunity for Eliza to examine her plunder. These strangers might not be honest, and if there were velvet robes, cashmere shawls, diamonds and other splendid things under that locked lid it would be better that they should not know it. Besides, Eliza had no key to the trunk. She resolved to open it at her "first place." The place came at last. Eliza went to it at night, bearing her two trunks. It was a small, dainty establishment, and the lady of the house regarded the immense luggage which accomprnied her waitress with amazement.

" How both your trunks are to be got into your room I'm sure I don't know," she said. "For the present you bad better leave the larger on this floor. There's a pantry at the end of the hall that may hold it."

Eliza's guilty conscience forbade her to object. She had her trunk put into the pantry, and reflected that it was now nearly a week Bince she had had possession of this gigantic object, and still had had no opportunity of examining it. Why had she yielded to temptation ? Why had she done this thing ? she began to ask herself. She never should feel comfortable again. She was constantly in dread of discovery. The trunk itself was a costly thing, that would attract attention as belonging to a working woman. Might not her employer examine it too closely ? All day she listened and watched. At night, after she had gono to bed, sho heard the soand of an open door, and of low voices, and creeping to the head of the stairs, peeped over, and saw the lady of the house,* her husband, and another gentleman staring at her trunk. White and trembling, she crept back to bed. " I wonder they are so curious about my trunk," she said, with chattering teeth, to her companion, the cook. "Oh," replied that worthy, "sheis always Interfering. They think a girl has no right to a few clothes, and a box to keep them in. Oh, the likes of them!..___ the size of it, me dear—Bhe'll be axin you to remove the morrow."

" Oh! if it is only that," said Eliza to herself, tossing to and fro in her bed. "H they only don . know the trunk, or suspect that it is stolen."

"You're a mighty restless sleeper," said the cook. "If you toss tho loike o' this I dunno how them that has the misfortin' to sleep wid ye is to get a wink after this." Eliza held herself still, but she only fell asleep when dawn was breaking and the milkman whooping in the area. As she waited at the breakfast-table she fancied her employers looked at her curioußly, and after the meal was over her master said, gravely: "Eliza, I must speak with you ; shut the door. Ido not wisb the other servants to hear." Eliza obeyed. "Then make no scene," said the gentleman, quietly, " but give me the key of your large trunk—the one in the pantry hero." Eliza tottered and supported herself against the side-board. "Key?" she faltered, "If you please I have no key to it." " It is locked ?" said the gentleman. "Yes, sir—lbelieve so," sobbed Eliza. "Where is the key?" repeated her master. "Give it tome, or I shall o;oen the trunk by force." " I don't know where the key is, eir," said Eliza; "and, indeed," she said, with an attempt at spirit, "I've stolen nothing from you, and you've no right to open my trunk." The other gentleman whom Eliza had first seen in the hall as she peeped over the stairs the night before, here threw hack his coat, and revealed a shield which was pinned to the vest beneath; then crossed the room, and opening the door, beckoned in a man who carried a locksmith's keys and tools. " Open that trunk," he said. "Oh, please, please, Mr Officer!" cried Eliza, " f'was only taking care of it for the lady. I—l meant to get her address and send it to her." "That's a little toolate, my dear," said the officer, as the trunk flew open. "I arrest you on a charge of murder." And Eliza, as she fell forward with a shriek, saw that the dreadful contents of the Saratoga trunk was a dead body, only half wrapped in what seemed like a sheet. In prison Eliza had time to resolve to be honest thereafter; and although it was proven that the woman who purposely lost the check was the true murderess, Eliza had to confess to theft to clear herself. Her character was ruined, and but for the charity and forgiveness ef the employer whom she had left bo ill-naturedly, good Mrs Cooper who has given her a chance again, she might still be without a place,