LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2607, 15 August 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

A BUTLER’S STORY OE A MYSTERI-

OUS BUSINESS

(Continued.)

Briokley was a hundred miles cff ; and Sir Edward having there to be canvassing and speech making not to speak of meeting committees in Loudon and dining with Lord Hampshire, was away for weeks together. He wrote to iry lady every day ; such a coming of letters I never saw, and she seemed glad to get them ; but I observed that as soon «s Sir Edward went, the gamekeeper, Johnson, had errands to the hail more than usual. Sometimes he brought game thst had not been ordered, sometimes ha wanted very trifling things, but he always lingered about t ie house or grounds till he oould get a private word of my lady ; and once I saw her in the shrubbery talking earnestly with him, and giving him what appeared to be a small bundle of clothes. By and by Lady Beiuclark bajm to take long walks in the park, she went out in the most chilly days, when it was threatening to rain every minute —many a shower she got—end stayed away for hours, to the great disturbance of Master Philip, whom she would never allow to go with hor ; and it was the first thing I ever knew her to refuse him; indeed, between Sir Edward and her, there was not a better spelled boy in Surrey ; he had his own way in breaking, damaging, and upsetting tbiuga generally, and always sat at the dinner table, even when they had company. The nurse and nursery maid had a rare bus'ne a pacifying and amusing him when his mother went out on those long walks. I believo Lady Eeauclark made it worth the while; but hoi self always came home tired and fagged, and looking as if she had been at a funeral. There was something hidden and hard to bear about those weiry walks; I knew it not only by my lady’s look when she came, but by the deep brown studies into which sho used to fall over her harp or book, and sit there, without reading or playing, till a door creaked, or a (hadow passed the window, and then she would start and turn white with sudden fear. I was curious, of course ; but that was not all that concerned me. Out of the respect X bad for her, I would have given my place—and it was not a bad one to know Lady Boauclark’s trouble, and be of service to her in it, and I envied the gamekeeprr because ho was evidently in her confidence. At last ho came one day for wire to make snares for the weasels, which, be said, were hundreds strong, and would leave Sir Edward and his friends no game to shoot; but he made a sign to my lady in the drawing room window, as he was going away, and at the end of the avenue till she got her things on, and Master Philip coaxad off, and I wa’ohed them walking together through the pork, in the direction of Johnson’s cottage. Before lady Eeauclark letumed Sir Edward came home. He was surprised to find her out, for the day had become a downright wot cno, and after walking from window to window for an hour or mo:e, he had just got ready an overcoat and umbrella to go in search of her when my lady came back. She was drenched to the skin, hut looked less sad and weary than I had seen her for many a day, and told Sir Fdward, iu snob an unconcerned way, that she had walked as far as the Pines, when the rain overtook and made her wait in Johnson's cottage till a fair hour came, but another terrible shower had fallen on her as she was hurrying homo. Ho prophesied all aorta of odds and rheumatisms—lt was Ms way of showing care and displeasure—but that evening she was herself again, as If a great burden had been lifted off hor mind, and chatted gaily with Sir Edward, who was also in high feather, for he had gained his election in Briokley. That election made a busier man of him than ever he had been in my time. Henceforth Sir Edward was taken up with Parliament business and people. Lady Beauolark seemed to have done with her trouble and her fear. If she didn’t think Sir Edward the greatest man in the world after winning the Briokley election, she listened to him as if he had been such.

Christmas wjb coming on by this time. It was a fine open season, with no snow and little frost, and the county gentlemen took greatly to the hunting. Lord Hampshire was a great follower of the hounds, and having got Sir Edward Into Parliament he got him into the hunt too. That took my master as much from home as tho election had dene, or rsther more. He was always spending the evening at one country seat or other, being far from Heath Hall, and pre:-eed to stay for dinner. Ho left her for a longer time at tho beginning of the week before Christmas; an uncommon number of letters had come overnight ; and I heard him tell her at the breakfast table, in his grandest manner, that tho loader of his parly—l forgot what lord it was —hud summoned him to attend a mooting of members at his residence in Bslgraye square, to arrange their plan of action for tho approaching session of Parliament; and that tho Surrey hunt were to meet at Lord Hampshire’s villa on the Thames tho Tuesday after, eo he would stay at the Conservative Club in town, of which he bad lately become a member. The club was such a great convenience to a man in public life ; and Lady Beauolark said r.o doubt it was, but she sighed as she spoke ; and Master Philip looked up from his chocolate with—‘Papa, I wish there were no hunts and no Parliaments, they are always taking you away from mamma and mo.’ ‘You will bo going to hunt and to Parliament some day yourself, my boy,’ said Sir Edward, stroking the child’s hair ; and he went off to get ready for his journey to Loudon. I heard him toll my lady that bo would certainly bo back on Christmas morning at furthest, in good time to go to church with her, whioh, it seems, he had never missed doing on that day ; and ehe was to let him know, as soon as their letters reached her, how many of his Cornish cousins were coming to spend Christmas at Heath Hall. Away ho went ; and I felt for her poor lodyahip as she stood in the porch looking after him and his hunter till they were out of sight; but she had never said a word against his going; and her maid told me that her whole concern was to get everything comfortable and correct for his Oornuh causing. They wore coming in great force, it appeared, a day or two after, when tho expected letters arrived, and the whole house, from my lady down to the kitchen maid, ware busy with preparations for them, but somehow it didn’t suit a single one of them to oome an hour sooner than Christmas morning. Well, the preparations were all made on Ohristmas-sve. The day had turned out uncommon wet, and 1 waa standing at the

window of my own room waiting till a shower would pats, and I and the rest of the men-servants could go out and out down holly and other evergreens, not to speak of the mistletoe, for the decorating of the hall, as both my lady and Sir Edward were partial to old country customs. Tho winter twilight was falling; but my window overlooked the shrubbery, which was separated from the park only by a wooden paling, getting rather crazy, and at one corner broken through. I thought at firat that it was a great black deg I saw coming over that broken down corner, and keeping close in the shadow of the shrubs as it crept towards the house ; but in a minute or two I found out that it was an old woman in black clothes, considerably stooped, and evidently not intending to be seen. She was none of the neighbors or poor people who came to tho hall for kitchenleavings or my lady’s charity ; I had never seen her before, aud one could not have forgotten her face, it was so wrinkled and haggard, with a look that was botwoon cunning madness and sore trouble in it. I didn’t like her appearance; and I wondered what she meant by stealing on to tho house in that fashion ; and as she turned into a little path leading directly to the conservatory, which opened into my lady’s drawingroom, I thought it prudent to go round by the baok-door quietly, and see what tho old woman wanted. I had got olose on the path, which was quickly by _ laurels, now all drenched and dripping with rain, when I heard voices talking behind them, and peeping through the leaves, I •aw the old woman and my lady, who must have seen her approach, and have rushed down through the conservatory, for the door stood open, and my lady’s face was as white as any cloth that I ever laid, ‘ What made you come at such a time ? ’ she cried, wringing her hands ; ‘it is Christmas eve ; the servants will be all out cutting evergreens, as soon as the rain is over; Sir Edward will come home to-morrow, and all his friends from Cornwall. Oh, what made you come ? ’ 1 Because I could live no longer without seeing you, Honor,’ said the old woman, speaking in a whisper too ; but it was hoarse and hollow; ‘I could when the sea was between us, but I can’t now. I am growing foolish, mad may be, after living so many year* with a rope about my neck. Only for your sake, I would go to the first policeman I saw and let the hangman give it a pull and finish me. You may treat me like a dog, Honor ; you may sand me away to the gamekeeper’s cottage, where they don’t muon like to give me room, or let me lie in the wet park ; but to see you a grand lady is all the pleasure I have in the world, and I don’t know where I'm going in the next.’ The rain was falling fast, but Lady BeanoUrk’s tears were falling faster. She took the old woman kindly by the hand, led her up tho steps, and into the conservatory, carefully closing the door; while I, not knowing what to msko of the business, stepped back the way I had come. I had scarcely got in when my lady’s bell rang, and I went up to her dressing room.

She met me with, * Qliesford, I want you to bring up a cold fowl and a bottle of wine, and anything else you oan think of that would serve a hungry person. Don’t be a minute ; and do me the favor to say nothing about it or what you see in my room.’ ‘Not a soul shall know anything of what I see or hear, my lady,’ said I. It was the proudest moment of my life that I could do something to serve her ; and the best fowl the cook had roasted for the Garnish cousins* luncheon, and a bottle of the best port in Sir Edward’s cellar, went up on my tray to that old woman who had come creeping through the shrubbery, 1 Gome in,’ said Lady Eeauclark, when I knocked at the dressing room door; and there was the strange visitor, sure enough, seated in my lady’s own easy chair, beside the biasing fire. Its warm light showed more plainly the deep wrinkles and odd look of her face, her grey neglected hair, and clothes all drenched with rain and mud, though otherwise in good condition. Lady Baanclark was drying her wet things, and serving her as if she had been her maid. By-tha-by, Mrs Pickering had got a holiday, and was not to oome home till next morning, which I thought the meroy of Providence; for that visitor in her mistress’s dressingroom would have served her for a twelvemonth’s talking ; no steam engine ever conld beat the tongues of them lady's maids. * Let nobody come up here but yourself, Qlassford,’ said my lady in a whisper, as I was laying the tray. ‘ Won’t you eat with me, Honor ?’ said the old woman, and her voice made me nearly spill the wine. Queer as it was when she whispered, it was ten times worse whan she spoke aloud. Bat st the same minute I heard the gate-bell ring, and then a sound of horses’ hoofs and rolling wheels coming up the avenue.

‘ See who it is, and let me know as quickly as you can,’ said Lady Boanolark; and I rushed out just in time to hear Sir Edward’s voice at the hall door, saying—- ‘ Come in, come in } we are all before our time ; but good things never some too soon ; 1 daresay we shall all be welcome.’ My lady had heard the voice, too, and wes close behind me as I turned to tell her. The old woman was there, too, shaking like a loaf in the wind ; and I never saw suoh a face of terror.

* Hide her in your pantry, for God’s sake,’ said my lady. ‘ The plate is there, and I can’t keep the cook out,’ said I, my hair beginning to rise with fear, for I saw there was something dangerous in the business, ‘ln the wine-cellar, then ; nobody goes there but yourself,’ said my ladyj but at that moment there was a loud call for " Glassford ” from Sir Edward.

* Give mo the key,’ and she took it out of my fingers. ‘ Now, shut the dining-room door when you go in.’ I flaw down stairs. Sir Edward was in the dining-room, and oil the home in a bustle with the arrival of the Cornish cousins. He had found it convenient to come home that evening ; they had got over ground quicker than they expected ; and the Master of Heath Hall had met his (Jhristmas visitors on the borders of his own domain.

‘ You have got up no holly, Glassford,’ said ho ; * how is that ?’ * The rain prevented ns, sir,’ said I. 1 Where is Lady Baauolark ?’ * In her own room, dressing, sir,’ 1 Well, send somebody to tell her that my oousins and I have come together. Send the valet to me, for I must dress too, and tell the cook to get us the best and quickest dinner she can.” I ran to execute Sir Edward’s commands. My lady passed me on her way up-stairs, and slipped the key of the wine-cellar into my hand. But I saw that Muster Philip was was holding fast by her dress, and looking backwards down the little stairs leading to my premises, as if he had just escaped from the nursery in time to see something wonderful in that direction.

Unexpected arrivals were easily provided for in Heath Hall, for there was plenty of everything as well as room ; and the Cornish cousins were in a short time comfortably settled and dressed for dinner. Lady Beauolark came down in her satin and lace, looking as if she had never wept so sore in tho shrubbery or anywhere else, and welcoming them all with smiles that must have done the west countrymen good. Sir Edward came down also, in his quiet, gentlemanly trim. I suppose they had their usual affectionate meeting upstairs, but I didn’t see it. The cook did her duty ; I did mine ; and by the time the dessert was set on the table, one couldn’t have wished to see a pleasanter family-party. Sir Edward had got over the hunts and the Parliament, and was making himself agreeable about old times and people in Cornwall; Lady Baauclark was agreeable without effort—you wouldn’t have supposed she was the woman who took the key out of my fingers not three hours before ; Master Philip was prattling away to his oousins, as he called them ; and the west-country gentlemen wore doing more than common justice to the wine. It’s my opinion that the people from that quarter have a particular knowledge of good port. Tho cousins |had got through all I had not on the table or the sideboard ; and a kindly old maiden lady was treating Master Philip to the last drop in her glass, when his father desired voo to bring up another bottle, and his mother reminded the child that port was too strong for little boys. «Oh,’ cried the spoiled urchin, * I know very well why yon don’t want Glassford to go to the cellar for more wine ; it’s because you have somebody locked up there; I saw it all at the top of the stair before you saw me.’

* What fancies that child takes in his hood,’ said Lady Beanclark, endeavoring to langh ; bat she turned first fiery red and then ghastly pale, and I saw two or three sly old gentlemen exchange knowing looks.

find the best port in the lefthand bin; bring u» that,’ eaid Sir Edward, appearing to take no notice of what hie spn had said ; but as I shut the door, I heard him say— ‘ Confound it! I have named the wrong bin, and those fellows are so stupid ;’ and before I had got half-way down the stair, he was at my heels. ‘ Give me the key, Glassford,' he said. I know then that ho had heard the child’s words, and what notion they put in his mind, for his teoth wore set, and his look was black as a thunder cloud. May bo it was a simple action, but I was young, and with a full intention of serving my lady, I plucked up courage to say, ‘lndeed, Sir Edward, there is nobody there but an old woman.’

‘ Give me the key,’ he said, clutching it and the light from me at onoo; the next moment he bad turned the look, and stepped into the cellar. It was a well-arranged and particularly open one ; there was not a corner in which anything but a rat could hide except at the further end, between two great pipes of claret. Straight to that spot Sir Edward walked; I followed as bold as brass, thinking how disappointed ha would be. The old woman was wedged between the two pipes ; he seized her by the shoulder, and with one powerful twist turned her round to face the light, but when it fell on her I thought my master was going mad, there was such wild horror in his look ; and with something between a curse and a cry he rushed out of the cellar, driving me before him, looked the door, put the key in his pocket, and bounded up the stair. I heard him go into the library and look the door on himself, and at the same time a tremendous ringing of bells, mingled with calls and cries, came from the dining-room. I was there in an instant, and so were most of the servants. Xiady Beaudark had dropped from her chair in a fainting fit, they said, while relating an anecdote of her travels on the continent, and one of the sly old gentleman was supporting her in his arms, but she looked so like death that we all thought she was gone. They carried her to her own room. The footman took horee and rode for the nearest doctor, who lived in Farnham, but before he came her ladyship had revived—sa'.d she bad not been strong of late - she believed it wan the weather—she hoped her dear cousins would excuse her, and she would be quite well next day. The doctor saw her, and said he would send a mixture ; he also s tw Sir Edward, who came out of the library just in time, and assured him that bis lady was in no danger. Many a time, in the course of my removing c'olha and changing phtes and dishes, I’ve had occasion to admire the powers of gentlefolks for makiegbelieve and putting-on. Sir Edward Beaudark spoke to the doctor like a man greatly concerned and surprised at his lady’s sudden fit, but quite satisfied with the medical man’s assurance (hat all would be well ; then he want back to his west-country cousins with many apologies because he made a mistake, and there was no more port in the cellar—the somebody whom Philip bad sean locked up there must have drunk it all ; and he and the gentleman made merry over that joke and thereat of the wine for some time after, the child being taken up stairs crying for his mamma. That was (ho longest evening I remember ; how long it must have been to the old soul looked up in the cellar! If Sir Edward had sent me for any more wine, I would have smuggled her out for my lady’s sake, but he took care not to do so. The long evening cams to an end at last the Cornish cousins retired to their rooms; the tired ssrvants got to bed. I had gathered a 1! the plate and brought It safe to my own pantry, feeling rathe" nervous, partly on account of what had happened, partly on account of the etrauge servants seme of the cousins had brought with them. But when I was fairly in my own room it struck me that one of a pair of silver goblets, partly gTt and beautifully chased, which Sir Edward had bought in Italy, and valued highly, had been used at the table, snd not brought down with the rest. I oculd not go to sleep without knowing exactly where that goblet was. All the house was silent, and all the lights were out, at least I thought so, but taking my candle in my hand, I slipped off my shoes, and stole up-etairs, to satisfy myself if it had been left in the dining-room. I was going to turn the handle of the door, when I noticed that It was not quite shut, the lock was in the habit of losing, you see, and I would have pushed it wide open but for a stream of light which dashed on me from within.

(To be continued )