LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 422, 19 October 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE PIERCED HEART. BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. Something less than a quarter of a century ago, the quiet seaside town of E experienced a sensation startling as horrible. The sexton of the parish church, reopening a grave in which, several years before, a young girl had been buried, by some maladroit handling of his pickaxe, loosened the coffin lid. Curiosity impelling him to lift it and have a peep inside, he there saw what caused him to drop the half-decayed woodwork as if it had been hot iron, bound back out of the grave, and hurry off, hair on end. For, to his experienced eye, the position of the young girl's body showed she had been buried alive ! Instead of lyiug on its back, as it must have been when interred, it was turned over on the left side, the knees bent to the full breadth of the coffin, the arms out of place, the right one raised to the head ; while the hair was dishevelled and the shroud greatly disordered ! A circumstance so strange could not fail to create intense excitement in any neighbourhood —all the more in so quiet a one as that of E . The scared gravedigger, hastening away from the weird spot, soon told his tale; which ran like wildfire throughout the town, spreading with like celerity over the adjacent district of country. From all parts rushed people towards E till a crowd was collected within its churchyard jamming it to the very gates. Among those who yielded to the general attraction was a young lady of the name of IngleAVOrth ; a rich heiress—not expectant, but in actual possession—who resided in the immediate neighbourhood. Miss Ingleworth came in her landau, accompanied by a gentleman but little over her own age, though in no way related to her. Hut most who saw them knew he soon would be ; for Captain Walton had proposed to the heiress, and been accepted. As the lady was entirely her own mistress—having no near relative save an invalid aunt, also a Miss Ingleworth, who resided with her—she could dispose as she pleased both of her hand and fortune ; and she was about to bestow both on Captain Henry Walton. As is customary among the country people —still deferent to their resident gentry — the crowd made way for the young lady and her escorting cavalier, permitting their approach to the newly-opened grave. By this time the coffin had been taken out, and rested on a tombstone near by— guarded by a couple of policemen, and encircled by the magisterial and other authorities of the town. And near by, also, was another coffin, a new one, fresh in its furniture of silver plates and crape knots, and surrounded by mutes and real mourners. It contained the corpse of the young girl's aiother ; the hour for the funeral having passed, and been for some time postponed on account of the startling and unexpected discovery. But, as this was no reason for further delaying the interment, it was decided that the second coffin should he lowered into the place from which the first had been lifted ; the remains of the mother were to rest below those of her daughter, instead of, as originally intended, above them ! It was an impressive scene; and in that churchyard was many a moist eye, besides those of the weeping relatives. As Miss Ingleworth stood by the coffin late disinterred, and saw the body, still in the position in which the sexton had found it—for no one had ventured to disturb it with what might have been deemed a sacrilegious touch —she was seen to start and turn pale ; indeed, she became so faint as to require the arm of her betrothed on the way back to her carriage, to which she abruptly returned. On the drive home she expressed regret for having gone to the graveyard at all; while he, by way of rallying her, said in a cheering tone : ' Pshaw ! Helen ! don't think of the thing any more. Reflect [only that the next time we two go together within those churchyard gates it will be for a more pleasant purpose. Twelve months ; ah ! how long it seems to wait. I've half a mind to give up soldiering, and, with your consent, bring it on a little sooner.' This was in reference to their marriage—the date of which, with other matters appertaining, had been already arranged; though not the exact day, this depending on the young officer's return from Malta, whither he was about to be sent on a twelve months' tour of duty with his regiment, his departure to take place immediately. It was no thought of their separation that •loaded the brow of his betrothed ; nor did the melancholy smile with which she made

reply to his bantering speech spring from anything he said. The shadow had been there ever since gazing upon that ghastly spectacle in the churchyard ; it haunted her not only for that day, but, at intervals, for all her life after—whenever she thought of it, sending a thrill of horror through her heai't. ***** The year's interregnum was about to expire, when Captain Walton, released from military duty, returned to England. Chivalrous and knightly as an ancient Crusader, he held his first salutation due to his ' ladylove,' and to her he was hastening. He knew she expected him ; for, shortly before leaving Malta, he had written to her of his coming, and found her answer in the poste restante at Marseilles. But as he had been unable to fix the precise day, or hour, of reaching the E—— terminus, on his arrival there no carriage was in waiting, and he engaged a fly to carry him on to Ingleworth House. His route led him past the parish church, which stood a little way outside the town. As the hackney carriage bore him abreast of the churchyard wall, he looked over—curiosity directing his glance toward the spot where, twelve months before, he had stood by the grave in which the young girl had been buried alive. But before he could identify it, his eye was arrested by another, which caused him to start and command the fly-driver instantly to pull up. It was a new-made grave, inside a grand gilded railing, which he knew t.> be the family burying place of the Ingleworths. Several slabs of white marble were lying within the inclosure —evidently the materials of a tomb about to be erected over it. For a time his blood ran chill, his heart beating aiidibly. But only for an instant. Remembering the invalid aunt, he quickly recovered, saying to himself : ' Ah ! she's dead. Pity, too ; she was a good old soul, and always favoured my suit with her niece.' ' Whose grave is that ? ' he mechanically asked the sexton. ' Which one, Captain ?' asked the man, recognising his interrogator, and deferentially raising his hat. ' That yonder—within the Ingleworth railing.' ' It's Miss Ingleworth's, sir 1' answered the sexton in a tone that told of surprise. Then adding, in a more subdued voice, and with increased solemnity : ' We buried her but the day before yesterday. But, sir, I thought you'd know all about it.' ' No ; I've been absent from England, and as I only returned this morning, hadn't heard of her death. Well, poor lady ! I knew she couldn't last long. Drive on, Jarvey !' At this the flyman flourished his whip, and the carriage moved briskly off —leaving the sexton transfixed to the spot, a picture of perplexity and astonishment. 'lt's awkward, this occurrence,' soliloquised Captain Walton, ' not to say ominous, coming at such a crisis. My Nelly had a great regard for her old aunt; and this melancholy affair will, no doubt, be affecting her very much, and make it necessary to postpone the ceremony, for which we've been so long waiting. It would seem as if we were ever to be doomed to disappointment. ' The cloud, which had spread over the speaker's countenance, had nearly passed off' as he came within sight of Ingleworth House. But the black hiitchment, fixed on the facade, brought it on again ; and in solemn silence he was driven up to the door. Without waiting for the driver to descend from his seat, he sprang out of the fly, and rang the hall bell. It was answered by a footman with a face as long as could possibly be pulled. ' Is Miss Ingleworth at home, James ?' ' Yes, Captain ; she is. ' " Announce me ! ' The man went off, and soon returning, said : ' Will you please walk in, sir ? Miss Ingleworth is down in the drawing-room ; she expected you would get here to-day. Sad news it is, sir—for you especially.' Why for him especially Captain Walton did not stay to reflect. His beloved and betrothed was waiting within ; and, hurrying past the servant, he pushed open the drawing-room door, and stepped inside. There his steps were arrested by a sight that for a time suspended his heart's pulsation. Instead of his darling Nelly starting up from a chair and rushing forward to receive him, he saw only the maiden aunt reclining upon her invalid couch, as he Jiad often seen her before. Sudden as the lightning's flash, the full truth broke upon him. The question, ' Where is Helen ?' came but mechanically from his lips ; for, soon as asking, he himself answered it, adding, 'You need not tell me. I know it—l know all—she is dead ! And she was. ***** As soon as the distracted lover had got over his first wild frenzy of grief, and become calm enough to listen, the particulars of his fiancee's death were communicated to him. There had been no prolonged illness ; for Helen Ingleworth had died suddenly, almost in the same hour in which she was seized. He knew this without being told ; her letter he received at Marseilles bore date but the day before that of her death, and in it there was no mention of any malady, nor, indeed, much else save their approaching nuptials, with her own joyous exultation at their being so near. While writing that letter 'she and evidently been in the best of spirits—as it proved, alas ! too like the fabled swan that sang its sweet song before expiring. Heart disease had been the cause of her death —as stated by her aunt, and attested by the certificate of the medical man who attended her. It was but slight solace to the expectant bridegroom, whom death had thus cruelly despoiled, to learn that he was not also deprived of the property which would have become his on consummation of the marriage ceremony. By a will, soon after put into his hand, he saw that he was made sole possessor of all Helen Ingleworth's estates, some money legacies alone excepted. Though poor —having, indeed, little more than his captain's pay to Jive on— Henry Walton was not the man to care much for this. Could he have recalled Helen Ingleworth to life, he would have cheerfully surrendered all, and been contented to live with her in the humblest cottage on her estate. Alas ! it was not to be. She was dead—dead and buried : he would never see her more ! While glancing over the contents of her will—which by official necessity ho was forced to read—one of its clauses struck him as being of a somewhat singular character. Besides a legacy of ten thousand pounds left

to her aunt, there was another for an equal amount to be given to the doctor who had attended her! Ten thousand pounds for professional services, as particularised in the wording of the will!

' What we re these professional services ? What could they be ?' very naturally asked Captain Walton of himself. And, directing his inquiries in the proper quarter, he learned that they consisted in a semi-weekly visit during a period of twelve months, with a few hours' attendance when the final crisis came. One hundred pounds per visit. A payment out of all proportion to the service rendered; and yet no other reason was assigned for the extraordinary bequest. True Dr Lamson, the lucky legatee, was the family physicianhad been for years. But this could not account for Helen Ingleworth having bequeathed him such an enormous sum ; and Captain Walton was puzzled for the explanation. The aunt could not give it. Indeed, she too was equally perplexed by the bequest, and not a little nettled to think that a stranger, a doctor, had been remembered in her niece's will to the same amount as herself.

Failing to find a satisfactory clue to this strange clause, Captain Walton not the less determined on executing it. He would faithfully fulfil the trust reposed in him as sole administrator—which he was. It was there in black and white, a solemn testament duly signed by Helen Ingleworth's own hand—how his trembled as he scanned the wellknown autograph ! —attested by two witnesses ; one the lawyer's clerk who had drawn up the will, the other a young man whom Captain Walton remembered being in Dr Lamson's service—a sort of assistant. This, again, seemed a strange circumstance ; though even it did not suggest to the mind of the young officer any suspicion of foul dealing on the part of the physician. The character of the hitter forbade such a supposition ; and Captain Walton was not given to wicked, or unjust, surmises. Besides, the aunt had informed him that her niece knew she had heart disease. She had often complained of palpitations. But it mattered little now what -the disease : she was dead ; and, beyond doubt, the doctor's certificate correctly stated the cause of her death.

So concluded Captain Walton, as with a sad heart he set about executing the trusts of the will. But before he could pay the large sum bequeathed to Dr Lamson, rumours began to reach him which seemed to give good reason for withholding it —at least for a time The gossip of the neighbourhood had commenced making itself busy with the physician's name —hitherto spotless and irreproachable. The only thing ever alleged against him was a fondness for the accumulation of money, amounting almost to avarice. He was, moreover, of a taciturn, unsocial, and somewhat cynical habit ; and, although admitted to have great skill in his profession, and leading a blameless life, he was anything but popular with the common people.

Of course the news of the graud legacy left him by Miss Ingleworth had spread far and wide—as had also the startling suddenness of her deal h from a disease at that time but ill understood—and the two, coupled together, at once suggested a suspicion of foul play, directed towards the doctor. In fine, suspicion took the shape of accusation ; the neighbourhood became excited; and an exhumation of Helen Ingeworth's body was demanded. Had Captain Walton wished, he could not have resisted the demand. But he did not wish ; for by this time he had himself heard something, and seen something more, that would not only have induced him to consent to the disinterment, but ardently urge it. On his first becoming acquainted with the sinister rumour, he had thought it his duty to call upon Dr Lamson and state what he had heard. The young officer, as he commenced making the unpalatable communication, could not help seeing the physician start, turn pale, and so continue to its end. Then he only answered with a sneering, scornful laugh—repeating the cause of death he had already assigned in his certificate —appending the trite remark, that ' the ignorant country Xieople were ever prone to such absurd imaginings.' As for suspicions directed upon himself, he would not deign to take notice of them. Finding him in this humour —and otherwise abruptly as peevishly reticent—Captain Walton, apologising for his well-meant intrusion, took leave—the doctor bowing him ont of doors. Captain Walton was afoot; and on his way homeward was overtaken by a ycung man whom he recognised as Dr Lamson's assistant—already spoken of as one of the attesting witnesses to the will. This young fellow, dressed in a stinted, close-fitting suit of threadbare black, with meagre, boneprojecting frame, and skin of bloodless, cadaverous hue, looked as though the doctor was in the habit of copiously phlebotomising him. This, however, was contradicted by the expression of his countenance ; which showed no sign of such innoccm; submission. On the contrary, it betrayed a sort of sinister cunning, like that often observed in the lower class of lawyers' clerks. As already said, Captain Walton knew this individual, whose name was Nudin. Now remembering his being one of the attesting witnesses, it occurred to the captain to enter into conversation. After a slight salutation, and a word about the weather, he said : ' By-the-way, Mr Nudin, I see you are one of the witnesses to Miss Ingleworth's will. May I ask at whose instance you signed it?' ' I signed at request of Dr Lamson, Captain Walton. He sent me special to sign it. I was at home in the dispensing-room; so was he, when Lawyer Luckett called about a witness to the will. The doctor requested me to go along with Mr Luckett to Ingleworth House. He was awful anxious about it ; no wonder, considerin' the big sum he's to pocket from it.' ' But your signature could not make any difference in that. Any one may attest a will, provided it be a person deemed respectable. There was the butler up at the House, and the head gardener, both men of good character and standing. He might have asked either of them to sign. I wonder he didn't ' 'You may wonder, Captain : but I don't, rejoined the drug dispenser, with a signific: nt sin ug. ' The do jl or had his reasons.' •Ah ! indeed ! May I know them, Mr Nudin ?' ' If you'll promise not to tell him that.l said anything ' 'Oh ! I promise that. It's not likely he and 1 shall ever exchange confidence of the kind.'

• Well, Captain, to tell the truth, I don t think he wanted anybody to know about the will. Luckett and Dr Lamson are fast friends ; and, between you and me, I suspect the lawyer is to stand in for a trifle of that ten thousand pounds, when the doctor gets it. Of course, Captain, I'm only giving you my suspicions ; and wouldn't do that if 1 didn't feel it to be a sort of duty, where one suspects there's been dealings not quite on the scpiare.' ' It seems somewhat strange, indeed. ' Ah, Captain ! there's something stranger still; and since you've given your word not to peach, I'll tell you that, too.' Captain Walton listened with all ears. • Since the makin' of that will,' continued Nudin, ' but more especial since the day of the young lady's death, the doctor hasn t been anything like himself. He's as restless as a singed stoat; and one night when be fell asleep in the surgery chair, I heard him mutterin' queer things about stickiu' pins into people, and, among others, mentioned Miss Ingleworth's name, with the ten thousand pounds legacy. That does look etrange, don't it?' « What do you make of it, Mr. Nudm / 1 1 declare, Captain, I don't know what to make of it. I only tell you what I've seen and heard. But I must keep on. Good day, sir*' So saying, the fellow stepped off in silent, slouching gait —leaving Captain Walton wondering at his unsolicited communicativeness - . T 1 The demand for exhuming Miss Ingleworth's body had by this time taken the shape of official action ; and a coroner's jury was collected, with a number of medical men, the most distinguished in the county, to make the post-mortem examination. The coffin was taken up, and placed upon a marble slab within the railing ; for, the day being fine, it was decided to hold the inquest in the open air. Besides the legal authorities, several gentlemen of the district, justices of the peace, were present; all of whom were admitted within the railed inclosure, while the crowd of town and country people clustered thick outside. The churchyard of B bad never been so filled since that day twelve months before, when the body of another young girl had been accidentally disinterred. Among the witnesses subpoenaed to be present were Lawyer Luckett and his clerk, with Dr Lamson himself, and his assistant, Nudin, Captain Walton was of course there—he, in fact, being chief promoter of the inquest. It would be difficult to depict his feelings when the coffin lid was lifted off and he beheld his bride, that was to have been, lying in her shroud. Though her face was white as statuary marble—very different from what it appeared when he last saw it in the bright bloom and roseate hue of health—decay had not yet 'swept the lines where beauty lingers,' and Helen Ingleworth looked lovely even in death. The bereaved lover could not bear the sight. Instead of continuing; to gaze upon the silent, sightless of clay, he turned aside, sat down upon a tombstone, and wept. Meanwhile the inquest, simultaneously with the post-mortem examination, proceeded. The bodj was taken out of the coffin, and placed upon one of the large blocks of marble intended for its tomb. First, only the head and breast were laid bare. Nothing more was needed at this time ; for almost on the instant of the shroud being removed, the searching eye of one of the examining surgeons was attracted to a slight abrasion of the skin directly over the region of the heart. On closer scrutiny it was discovered that a small portion of the cuticle was loose ; and this, on being raised, disclosed a puncture underneath, though so slight as scarcely to deserve the name of wound. On the probe being applied, there was the click of metal against metal ; and, the forceps being substituted, a steel needle was drawn out, somewhat similar to those used by straw bonnet makers! As it was several inches in length, and its direction straight towards the heart, it had evidently penetrated this organ, piercing it through and through. A thrill of wildest astonishment electrified the crowd of spectators, all looking aghast. Even the grave medical men for a time lost their composure. Then the senior of them — who by tacit consent was directing the investigation —said, addressing the coroner : ' I think it is not necessary to proceed further at present. In this, 1 he added, holding up the needle, ' we have clearly the cause of death.' The other doctors signifying their assent, the coroner commenced his 'quest,' Dr. Lamson, who had been sole medical attendant on the deceased lady, being the first witness called, To he continued.