LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1371, 8 July 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MARKED FINGER. A jealous man, Chester Bowden. Even when a boy, superficial people said he was imperious because he was a baronet at twelve years of age Those who knew better, who had information concerning the old family of the Bowdens, had no need to be informed that the Bowdens were hard, jealous, though just, men. They never did a wrong, and yet never seemed to be in the right. At the Inquest; it was said old Sir Chester accidentally shot himself. But the county families well know that he had taken his own life. Even many of the common people on tho estate had little or no doubt upon this point. The reason ? Three months before the crash his wife had iled from him. FTe made no effort to Keek her out, and it was only his death and its manner which let people iut > the secret of his love for her. She had beeu pited by her own servants through her ten years of married life p he was very meek and mild, always stood up when he entered the room, and to the end of all she palled him Sir Chester Ho always called her La 'y Bowden. They never quarrelled, and they were always dull. She never smiled There was some talk of her having loved some young farmer before she married so well. But that was, doubtless, scandal. However, Bhe fled; Sir Chester died, shot,

three months afterwards, and young Sir Chester was nine years of age. At Oxford he made but one friend and many enemies. Oxonians hate Oxonians who are not cheery and friendly amongst themselves Boleyn if ever began by pitying Chester Bowden, and ended by liking him. But they were never familiar. For instance, Hever always wore a piece of fleshcolored plaster between the fi-st and second joints of the middle finger of the left hand. Chester never a»ked the meaning of the patch i and once when, while boating, the plaster was rubbed away. Chester never asked what was the meaning of the seven little tattooed stars he savfcwhere the plaster had been. The explanation, however, was very simple. A rich old godfather, from whom the poorifh Hevern had expectations, and being an old sailor, had elected thus to mark his godson. Beleyn Hever, being naturally a highclass man, entertained a Btrong disgust for these marks—a disgust which reached morbidity, and he did them with fresh-colored plaster. At twenty-three Sir Chester Bowen mar ried one of the most dashing women of her year He was as jealous as his father, and as proud; therefore, he had no fear of Bowden being ungrateful. She was poor. Boleyn Hever, his neighbor, had not married, aud nursing his estate, which had been left him when very much encumbered. At what "precise moment Sir Chester became jealouß of his one friend he himself never knew. Ho was too certain of his own suffering. He hated company, but he was bound to give fetes, balls, etc. It was the evening before the first anniversarsary of his wedding, upon which occasion there was to be a ball. Sir Chester had noticed his wife anxious all day, and his demon prompted him terribly. Why was she anxious ? After dinner she pleaded sickness, and went to her usual sittiDg room, into which Sir Chester never intruded. An hour afterwards, he sent a servant to her with some inquiry concerning the ball on the following day. The servant returned, saying that " my lady " was not in her room.

There was murder in Chester's heart the next moment. But he only took up a heavy riding-whip ■

No—not in her room !

The first trace he found of her was a pencil case, glittering in the moonlight. He drew a line in his mind's eye from the house to it, and thence in the same direction. I To the grape gates,' he muttered—' a straight line to his house.' On he went.

Suddenly, being on the top of a hillock, he saw Boleyn—there could be no question about the man—and with him a woman, hooded.

They were going towards the great iron op n-work gates, which, from their pattern, were commonly called the grape gates. He uttered a horrible cry, which evidently the couple heard, for they hurried to the gates, to which there waß no lodge, and one of which was open. They must have seen Chester leaping towards them, for th°y ran He was within twenty yards of the couple when they passed the tr a at gates, which were swung to with a terrible noise. Again Sir Chester uttered a savage cry, for he knew he could not open them out the kep, kept in his library, and that while r ;he was scaling the wall they would escape. He ran to the gate, and then it must have been that he fainted.

When he came to himself, he saw vaguely in the moonlight, and lying near him, a small, white object. He touched it, and shuddered.

Briefly, it was a human finger, tattooed with seven small, purlish stars. How long had they escaped ? In his fall, his wa f ch glass was broken, and the hunde were stopped. He never knew how he got back to the house.

'lf you please, my lady is now in her room. Here, help !' suddenly cried the servant.

He fainted again. He went to his library, and there found ;he key of the grape-gates still swining on ts nail.

' How can she be baok ?' he thought. ' I saw her take flight!' £he looked white when suddenly he entered her room—the first time he had done so during their married life. ' Have you been from the castle, Lady Bowded ?' he asked.

4 iN? o,' she said, gravely. By that time he knew that he had lain insensible during a whole hour near the gate. • She must have returned,' he said, ' by the gate, and passed carelessly by my quiet body. She hates me. But why has she returned ?'

Next day he called upon Hever. The reply sent down was that Mr Hever was not well, but hoped to be at the ball in the evening.

How he watched for Boleyn Hever's appearance.

He came, and of course gloved. No sign of the missing finger. Sir Chester went up to him smilingly on the left side and grasped his left hand The glove yielded. The middle finger of the glove had been stuffed with wool.

They were standing a little apart. Still holding the maimed hand, he said—--4 You have sinned with my wife. You fled from me last night ; but jHeaven avenged me, and cleft your marked finger from your wicked hand. Dare you smile V 4 Beware Y I have always been your one f'iend, and last night was mora your friend than ever.' • A hypocrite as well as monster!" he said, 1 Do you know what I am going to do ?' ' Wh<t ?' 4 Kill that woman here, before her guests, and like my father make an end to myself.' 4 And as needlessly, madman, Ihe woman you saw came with me to warn your wife out of her own experience to bear any cruelty you might heap upon her rather than tike flight. The poor creature may or may not have been guilty, Chester; but she proved her love for you when she forced herself to see your wife and save her from such an outcast life a 3 her own has been for many years' 4 Who—who was she ?'

• Your mother. Ah 1 -is a doctor here ?'

Past earthly help, r for Sir Chester Bow den had fallen down—dead.