DANESBURY HOUSE.

Clutha Leader, Volume IV, Issue 161, 10 August 1877, Page 7

DANESBURY HOUSE.

By Mrs Henry Wood.

Chapter XIX. AN EVIL DEATH.

Did Lionel Danesbury amend his "ways and drink less new that he had ■assumed graver duties ? Surely this marriage df his, this settling in a home ■of his own, might have proved a turning point. It may be, that he did not strive to break through his disastrous habits, too conscious that they had become part and parcel of himself ; or, it maybe, that he strove to make the effort, but strove in vain. Whether he did, or did not, will never be known now. Far from any amendment resulting, he ;grew worse than before, and it was a ; rare thing now, morning, noon, or night, for him to be seen entirely sober. As to Robert — but the less that is said about him in detail, the better.

As the months went on, and this change for the worse appeared in Lionel, Mrs Danesbury thought fit to pocket her pride, and be reconciled. She fancied that her renewal of favour r and intercourse might be productive of .good effect upon him. She never could be cordial with his wife ; not quite cor"dial: there must, and would always be a reserve in 'her manner, as from a lady to an inferior. Katherine Danesbury "was sadly changed, her hopeful visions of her husband's reformation were worse than not -realised . She was an excellent wife to him, a slave to him night and day, and Mr Danesbury openly avowed his opinion, that she was a far better and more patient wife than Lionel 'deserved.

They had been married about ten months, when one evening at dusk, Lionel's wife appeared at Danesbury House, sorrow in her eye and suffering in her pale cheek. If she had come to "tell of trouble, she had not chosen an opportune time, for Robert had been causing an unpleasant scene. He had 'been demanding money of his father, and when Mr Danesbury refused it, had broken out into a torrent of abuse, both •of his father and mother, and then rushed from the house. That he was ; so overcome as not to be fully aware of his words, was no excuse. For the 'last three days he had not been for one •minute sober, and his actions had partaken of insanity. They were sitting on each side of the fire, Mr and Mrs Danesbury, and she was lamenting •openly; weeping bitterly: his sorrows were buried in silence, but they were -eating away his heartstrings. He was a towering, upright man when you first saw him, never a finer man in Eastborough. Can it be that the shrunken 'frame, obliged to be supported by a : stick, when walking, the withered -cheek, the bent back, are his ? In so few years, can he thus have changed ? Jt is not fhe years that have changed him, but the sorrow they have brought. The sons that were born to him in his manhood, and whom he loved as the apple of his eye, whom he fondly fostered, liberally educated, whom he expected to be the comfort of his old age, those sons have heaped shame and sadness upon him ; they pre rendering his days a scene of strife and wretchedness, and are contributing to bring them to a close. It was thus, as Mr and Mrs Danesbury were sitting there, chewing the bitter cud of unavailing grief, that -a servant opened the door, and ushered in Lionel's wife. "* Well, Katherine,' cried Mr Danesbury, as he pointed to a chair beside him, and there was a painful amount of suffering and sadness in his subdued tone, * you look as if you had something bad to tell.' •Katherine strove to speak, but, after a minute's struggle, burst into tears. : She had come to disclose a pitiful tale, -and she was grieved and ashamed to be obliged to do it. Mr Danesbury had given her the money for the rent, 'quarter by quarter — three quarters now — for his payments were made to her, not to his' son. She had handed it 'promptly to Lionel, who had always taken it, she believed, to the landlord. It turned out, however, that he had never taken ifc, but had gone so perpetually with excuses, that the landlord, tired out, had that day put a man in possession. ' I am so ashamed to come, sir,' she sobbed, '* and tell you such a thing as this, after all your kindness to us. I went to try and get it from my mother, but I find she has gone out for a few days. And he has been so excited ever since the man came in, that I'm sure he 'must be got out to-night. He seems ! on the eve'— she lowered her voice — "' of another of those dreadful attacks. His wrists and round his eyes are turning red, and his knees are shaking, and he is fancying he sees things.' * I gave the rent to you, Katherine,' said Mr Danesbury. ' You should have paid it, yourself.' ' But, sir, he took it from me each time, and said he would go up and pay it, and I never thought but what he did. He went out to do it, and came back and said he had. I asked him one day for the receipts, and he replied that he had given them to you. How could I suspect anything wrong T 1 1 suppose he spent it on his drink.' ' I Suppose he did,' she sobbed. 'He has taken such a horror of this man, who is put in, that it terrifies me. When these attacks are coming on, he is not sanft, and he might spring upon him, and kill him. I do not know to be .at, sir. I was unwilling to

come here and ask for the money ; but Lionel raved out to me to come. 1 whispered to the man to be upon his guard.'

' Swore at you, I suppose, Katherine.'

' Oh, sir — but it is only when he is like this, that he swears. He is kind and good when he is well.'

1 Katherine,' resumed Mr Danesbury, lowering his voice, ' I heaid that he struck 3 r ou this week. Was it so V She shivered, and sobbed out a faltering excuse for Lionel — that he was ' quite gone,' and did not know what he did. ' If he would but keep from drink !' she moaned, 'if he would but keep from drink ! This week he has taken enough to kill him.'

Mrs Danesbury listened, and a cold shiver passed over her frame, a sickness seized upon her breaking heart. 'Oh !' she cried out in her anguish, * what infatuation is it that possesses mv children V

What could Mr Danesbury do, but relieve Lionel's house of its encumbrance ? He wrote a word to the landlord, and the man was instantly withdrawn. But that same night Lionel had to be watched by two men, in his dangerous delirium.

Mrs Danesbury retired to rest, but not to sleep. Robert had come in, and was wandering about the house, pacing up and down the stairs incessantly/ his mind unconscious ; it appeared more with madness than with wine. What a sound for a mother ! Mrs Danesbury had not been to her children all that she might have been, but her aftection for them, at least, was powerful. She had started from some troubled dream in their infancy, and had rudhed to their cradles, and thanked God that they were safe. Now she started from her bed more frequently, not at the imaginary terrors of a dream, but at the bitter stings of waking reality. At length the noise ceased, Robert subsided into his room, and his mother sank to sleep. She was awake again with the first grey streak of dawn that glimmered in the east, awake to the new day and the pain it brought. Oh, the anguish of that first awaking, when a heavy weight lies upon the conscience •or the heart ! Trouble may oppress in the day ; suspense, perplexity, care, may render the pillow sleepless in the night, but it is as nothing compared with the hideous reality, the lively anguish that then rushes over the spirit.

The terrible reality, stern, appalling, intense, rushed over the brain of Mrs Danesbury, and she sprang from her bed with a suppressed cry, and paced the cold room with her hands to her temples, wondering that her senses did not quite leave her in these dreaded moments. There was no help on earth, and she sank on her knees and prayed that her sons' infatuating sin rnio-ut yet be conquered ; that it might not have laid hold of them past redemption. And yet, she had prayed so for years, and amendment had not come to them ; and she prayed as one without hope. Mr and Mrs Danesbury rose as usual, and after breakfast, the former went to the factory. He came back about midday, too ill to go out again. In the afternoon he was cowering over the fire in the dining-room, tor he felt shivering and chill, when Robert came in, his dress loose, and his gait slouching. Though three o'clock, it was his first appearance that day. His eyes were bloodshot, nnd his countenance bore the marks of his evil life. His slippers were down at heel, his coat dirty and torn, his pantaloons 'unbraced, and he had no collar on. Mr Danesburv looked

up, and then averted his eyes with a suppressed groan. Robert held his hat, which he had carried on his head into chamber the previous night ; he now essayed to place it on the table, but his hand shook, and it slipped on the floor ; Mrs Danesbury, little less shaking than he, stooped and picked it up again. Yet Robert was sober then, perfectly sober; the drams he had been ohl-'ged to take, ere he could dress himself, not affecting him.

He was screwing his courage up to tell of his faults. Told they must be. In his excited mood of the previous night he had demanded money ; it was his task to tell quietly why it must be supplied him. He had again got into debt, for the third or fourth time since he came home, and had drawn liabilities upon himself which must be discharged, or he dragged off to the county jail. '•' You have brought me to the verge of ruin,' gasped Mr Danesbury, as he listened, 'do you want to complete it 1 It is not eight months since I paid your debts. Then, there was nothing but a jail before you, and I saved you from it.'

Robert .sat by, penitent and ill : he always felt penitent and ill when, he was quite sober. He had nothing to answer:

' How many times bave I paid ypnr debts since you returned from London V procseded Mr Danesbury. ' Not one shilling of them had you cause to contract. You have a good home here, with everything you can require, and a trifle to spend. What other father would keep you in idleness ? You have squandered the money that I worked, hard for. What will you do when I am gone V Robert had risen, and now stood leaning on the mantle-piece. He was intent upon procuring what he wanted, and he began to offer some attempt at excuse. ..... \

' I cannot pay away much more,' returned Mr Danesbury. ' 1 will not completely cripple the business, so thnt Arthur shall be unable to carry it on, and be left without resources. No; I have sacrificed enough ro you and to Lionel, but I will not entirely sacrifice your eldest brother, who never gave me an hour's grief in his life.' ' And for William also, as well as for him and Lionel,' somewhat sharply put in Mrs Danesbury. ' Rather would I let poverty and want come upon me, than ruin Arthur/ proceeded the old man. lHe bus made unparalleled sacrifices, of his own kind will. He is a brother in a thousand. How much is this money, that you are liable for T 'It's — it's about two hundred pounds,' hesitated Robert, ashamed of the confession. 'It is not ' 'Two hundred pounds!' interrupted Mr Danesbury. i What have you been doing, to owe all that ? I will not find it,' he sternly added, ' I cannot find it. You are reducing me to distress, sir, with your wicked habits. Would you have your mother, there, to end her days in the workhouse 1 For myself,' he continued, his voice broken with emotion, 'I shall not long trouble any of you, and I care not how soon it may please the Almighty to remove me from a world which has been productive to me of much suffering.' Mrs Danesbury covered her face. Mr Danesbury gradually changed his tone : his spirit was broken, his heart breaking, and he could not keep up anger long. He showed Robert hew impossible it was that, he could continue to supply means for this ruinous expenditure, and he enlarged upon his blamable course of life; the sin he was guilty of towards his parents, towards himself, and the far greater sin he was g-uilty of, towards God. Robert listened, till he fell into a contrite spirit, and presently he burst into tears, openly lamented his conduct, and promised to amend. His brain was whirling, his health and strength were shattered, and he cried as he had cried that night in London to Arthur, when he was in a maudlin state. His father and mother seized upon the moment to implore him to reform, and Robert solemnly promised. He meant it, poor deluded man ; the sin of his life was pressing heavily upon his conscience ; and, what with his linking body aud sinking spirits, it was impossible for any poor creature to feel more wretched. Mr Danesbury would not advance the money which Robert demanded, he was firm in that, but he said the liabilities might be brought under his examination, and he would see if any arrangement could be effected, towards paying them off by degrees, so as to release Robert from pt-esent fears. But he would only do this, on condition that Robert entered into no further debts. With this conciliation, Robert was obliged to content himself, nnd very kind and fair" it was ; but, the truth was, he wanted to get the money into his own fingers. He left the room, too physically miserable to stay in it : and what remedy did lip resort to,, to cheer himself 1 ? He went back to li'-s bed-room, where he regularly kept spirits concealed now, and pouncing upon the brandy-bottle, poured out a tumblerful, and drank it. Do not ask wbere his promises of good resolutions flew to 1 He did noc stoj) at that little light draught. ; it was not enough for him ; and at the customary evening hour, having set bis dress to rights, he slunk out, rat her worse than usual for what he had taken. His parents — oh, have pity for them ! — remained alone, scarcely interchanging a word with each other, hut silently nursing their misery-, a misery that would never be lightened in this world. It happened that Arthur had gone to spend that evening with his brother William. The clock struck ten, and for a few minutes Mr Danesbury was alone. His head loaned on his hands, and he sat gazing abstractedly on the fire : he was thinking what a mercy ifc \vould have been, had God seen fit to remove his two youngest boys in their infancy. Suddenly he heard the latchkey turn in the front door, turn aud turn, as'if he who held it were not in a slate of competency ; but, at len;>tii, it was pushed open with a burst, and Robert staggered across the hall, and came into the room. He reeled up to Ids father, his hair hanging about his countenance, and his attitude menacing. His words were indistinct, but, ?.o far as Mr Danesbury could gather, they were a demand for money. ' Are these your promises of amendment, Robert ? Go to your room ; go to your room, sir, and do not speak to me again until yo*i are in a better state.'' ' I must and I will have money,'' screamed Robert. ' What right have you to deny it to me 1 I will have it, I tell you. Mr Danesbury rose from his seat with dignity. 'I do possess the right to deny it,' he sadly answered, ' and, would that I had exercised that right, years ago, my sons might have been more dutiful sons to me now.' He knew not what he did, it is to be hoped he knew nob, that lost young man, for he cursed his father with a loud and grievous curse, and dealt him a blow on the temple. Mr Danesbury fell to the ground, just as Mrs Danesbury, her fears ever on the alert, ran in. " She flew to her husband, she pushed Robert from her, she reproached

him harshly in her shock of grief. He stood there raving, and invoking imprecations on her, his mother ; and then, with a shout and a crash, he swept the ornaments off the mantel-piece. In rushed a man servant, followed by Arthur, who had come home just in time to hear the noise. Arthur laid his powerful grasp upon the madman, whilst the man raised Mr Danesbury to his chair. Mr Danesbury's temple was bleeding, for it had struck against the fender/as he fell; and, as Mrs Danesbury bathed it with water, she whispered to him, through her tears, not to be harsh with their mistaken boy. 'Harsh with him, no!' wailed Mr Danesbury; but let, him take all, let him turn them out of house and home, rather than they should be cursed in their old age by the child to whom they had given birth ! Arthur and the man got Robert lo his chamber, and undressed him and placed him in bed. But there was no rest for the house that night, for he was out of his apartments again, as on the preceding one, stalking about, like a restless spirit, from room to room, and up the stairs and down. His state was akin to madness ; they could do nothing with him ; even his father, forgetting the outrage, went to beg him to be composed and go to rest. All in vain; and shou'ing, singing, laughing, and raving, he tore about till morning, Arthur and the servant watching him, to prevent mischief. By the usual hour of the household's rising, he was partially sobered, but the symptoms of insanity hung about him. His mother went to him once more,' to coax, beg, intreat him to lie down and try and get seme sleep. Yes, he would, he answered : and then he laid hold of her hands, and, melting into tears, whispered his contrition for what he did on the previous night. * Mother, I was mad with drink, I was mad with drink ! Will you and my father forgive me V ' Yes, yes, dear,' she answered, ' Tt is all forgiven : you were not conscious of your actions. Only go to bed quietly, and get to sleep. I will take you.' Sbe passed on to his chamber, and be docilely followed her, muttering still, ' I was mad with drink.' and some other words which she could not catch, about the burden of his bntfr life. He lay down quietly and they left the room, Arthur remaining for some moments to listen at the door. Bnt it appeared that he did not move. Presently Arthur cautiously looked in. He was lying on the bed, with his eyes wide open. 'Did you call, Robert?' osked his brother, by way of excuse. 'Do you want anything V ' No. I'm going to got pome sleep.' ' Ay, do. It will do you good.' Arthur closed the door. Mrs Danesbury was standing just outside her own chamber, and beckoned to him. 4 Arthur,' she whispered, 'it appears to me that he is worse than ever I saw him :in a more strange sort of way. I think Dr Pratt had better come and look at him.' '1 am going for. him now,' replied Arthur. 'If Robert cannot get to sleep, he will have an attack similar to Lionel's.' Mrs Danesbury stole on tiptoe once or twice to the room door, but all was quiet, and she hoped he was sleeping. In a short time Arthur returned with the surgeon. Mrs Danesbury inquired if he bad seen Lionel that morning ; if he knew how he was. ' Yes, Lionel is better,' replied Mr Pratt. "' He will get over this bout. But if he,' nodding his head in the direction of Robert's chamber, 'is in for it, we shall have some trouble. Lionel has made free enough, in all conscience, but he has made worse. To think of the evils wrought in this world by the influence of drink !' uttered the old gentleman, who bore the appearance of a man of care. lMy only son an alien from me J and yours more trouble than if they were aliens.' He had gradually advanced to Robert's door as he spoke, opened it, J and partially entered. But he drew | back with a suppressed, hasty move- j ment, closed the door, and kept the handle of it in his hand. Arthur and Mrs Danesbury had followed him. ' Will you get me some vinegar V he said to Mrs Danesbury. ' Get it, and bring it yourself ; there's a good lady.' As she turned away, Mr Pratt looked at Arthur with a horror-stricken face. ' I have sent her off purposely,' he whispered. 'I saw the inside of this chamber when I opened the door : it was no sight for any woman ; least of .all, a mother. Can you hear tt f A suspicion of his meaning dawned on the mind of Arthur Danesbury. ' What has he done I he asked with blanched lips. ' Surely he has not injured himself!' ' He has committkd suicide,' was the dread whisper. ' May the Lord have mercy on his soul ! They went in, Arthur nerving himself to"it. The ill-fated maniac — let us call him so ! — was lying on the bed in a pool of blood, the razor clasped in his right-hand. He was not desd ; but ere the lapse ol' many minur.es he would no longer be amongst the living. Arthur went outside, awake, even in his despair and horror, to the humanity of keeping Mrs Danesbury from the room. She was coming along the corrider \yith the vinegar cruet in her hand. ,In spite of his efforts, he could * not recall the colour to his face.

' Thank you,' he said, offering to take it from her.

' No : 1 will go in with it myself,'replied Mrs Danesbury.

' Dr Pratt — Dr Pratt does not wish any one to go in,' rejoined Arthur.

4 But I will go in. Why should Ibe kept out? Why are you looking so strange, so scared, Arthur? Oh !' she screamed, a fear flashing across ber like lightning, ' what has happened? W 7 hat is amiss with mv boy ?'

She had the strength of a desperate woman, aud struggled with him. He

soothingly strove to lead her away, but she suddenly raised her foot and kicked open tbe door, and the scene within was disclosed to her. A long- shrill shriek ran through the house, and she fell back into Arthur's arms. It brought Mr Danesbury out of his bed-room ; and the frightened servants came running up.

What expression of horror was it that gleamed from ihe dying man's eyes, as he grasped the wrists of his father 1 Could it be, that the accomplishment of his crime, or the close approach of death, had restored his powers o! mind and memory ? I4e appeared as conscious as ever he was before the fatal habit grew upon him ; there was no mistaking the clear, sane expression of his eye. Who can imagine the awful tortures that were rending his soul ? I once read of a drowning man, who testified, after his rescue, that in the moment when his strength was yielding to the waves, all the whole history ot his past life rose up before him; its evil thoughts, its unholy actions, all were clear to his mind, like the scenes in a phantasmagoria. Could it be that the same strange renovation of memory had been opened to Robert Danesbury ? Will it, when our spirit is about to quit its earthly tenement, open to all of us ? Who does not remember those two lines of Hood's in that beautiful poem, with its warning lesson, ' The Lady's Dream V

' Woo, woe for me, if the past should he Thus present when I die !' That Hubert Danesbury's intellects were clear and sane in tho^e, his dying moments, was indisputable. He saw now all the inexplicable guilt of his past life : the talents he had misused, the parents whose heart he had broken, the Heaven he had deserted. As a single star to the countless myriads that inhabit space, as a drop of dew to the wide serfs, was the little span of existence appointed him here, compared with the never-ending life hereafter; yet he had not attempted to perform its poor, simple duties to himself, to the world, or to his Creator. A little selfdenial, a little strife and perseverance, a Uttie ueip from above, and the victory would have been his. He saw it all now ; but hi had chosen to abandon bis powers, both of mind and body, to the pursuit of a degrading vice, and at las: he had rashly and impiously taken die life that was not his to take, and was winding his flight to the awful bar of an offended God. Flying swiftly to the unknown, darksome valley of the Shadow of Death, without hope, aud without a comforter; for the merciful promise of the Saviour, to come again and guide his redeemed to Him, could not apply to him now; he had thrown away his Saviour when he threw away the lite that was not his to take. And so, amid piercing throes and mental torments, amid ineffectual efforts to give utterance to his remorse and anguish, he wrung- his father's hands with a sharp) pressure, and with a last, wild cry, the spirit of Robert Danesbury passed away for ever. ■' Oh, my" son Robert,' wailed out his anguished father, as did David of old. ' My don, my son ! would God I had di«d for these, oh, Robert, my son, my son !' (To be continued.)