Tales and Sketches.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 53, 27 January 1872, Page 15

Tales and Sketches.

MRS HADDAN'S HISTORY. IN POTJE CHAPTERS. CHAPTEE 11.

'My dear,' said Mr Newill, in a very feeling tone, when we were alone together j ' I could not say what I had to say before that fine young fellow, with his mother sitting by. I am convinced that George Haddan was never married. We were most intimate friends, and he would never have kept it a secret from me. He only did what hundreds of young men do and repent of it bitterly afterwards.' ' Man does strange things,' I said, my heart sinking very low. I So he does,' replied Mr Newill, smiling, I so he does, my dear girl. But George would have concealed nothing from me. I aaid so to Mr James with your father's letter lying before me on this very table. Depend upon it, poor Mrs Haddan is only trying to save her character.'

'But supposing it is all as she says.' I urged, is there any motive strong enough for preserving those documents instead of destroying them P' ' There might be,' he said musingly. 'Yes, there is a strong motive. In the first place, Mr James Haddan himself is dead.' ' Dead !' I echoed.

' Yes ; and he has left an only son, Lewis, a delicate boy, whose life is not at all certain. He cannot make a will till he is of age, and if he should die before then the estate goes to another branch of the Haddans. Of course old Mrs Haddan hates them with all her heart. It was only the other day they consulted me about some strange threats of hers. She had told them not to make too sure of the inheritance ; there might be heirs in America. I set them quite at ease about that.' We both sat quiet for a while, thinking it all over. I knew nothing of this dowager Mrs Haddan, but I felt that to some women hatred alone would be motive enough for preserving papers dangerous to themselves. If this last heir, Lewis, died, then G-eorge would come into his rights, but if he lived long enough to make his will the documents would be destroved.

1 I wish I knew I said, looking wistfully into Mr NewiU's face, ' without her knowing who I was.' 'lt would be unfair,' he answered ; • and yet ' I could see that he had his doubts of the dowager Mrs Haddan, who had been the enemy of his old friend ; and I urged my point till I succeeded. Only to satisfy me, he said that George had kept no such secret from him, if I could find any means of getting at the truth. The next week arrived an invitation for me to visit Mrs Newill., and I wect, telling no one of my plans. The place where they lived was in Essex, within a few miles of London, but in a country as deliciously rural as if it had been a hundred miles away. Haddan Lodge was not far from their house; we passed it in our drive before dinner. It was a large massive, redbrick building with no special beauty about it, except the grand oaks, just coming into leaf, which surrounded it. It might be my future home. Mrs Newill was alone with me, and I could not refrain from telling her our story. From that moment she was my firm ally.

I saw old Mrs Haddan for the first time in church next Sunday. She was a stately, pa-trician-looking dame of about sixty, with a crown of snow white hair, and a clear creamy complexion. She sailed magnificently up the aisle, preceded bj a thin, delicate-looking lad of twenty or so, who bore some resemblance to George. The Newills spoke to her on coming out, and introduced me as Miss Fortune. I listened with burning anxiety to the few courtesies passing between them as we paced slowly down the village churchyard ; but it was not until Mrs Haddan's carriage drove up that my anxiety was appeased. 'Do come up some evening,' she said, ' and bring your young friend with you. Let it be as soon as possible, this evening if you have no other engagement. Lewis and I are terribly weary of each other.' A gleam of extraordinary tenderness softened her face for an instant as she spoke of her grandson, who seconded the invitation with great warmth. We went the same evening, and I exerted myself to be agreeable ; not without success. Lewis came down the next morning to Mrs Newill's upon an errand which readily presented an excuse for inviting me again to Haddan Lodge ; and before a fortnight had passed by, both he and Mrs Haddan earnestly pressed me to spend a few days with them altogether. Alone in the house with them I had unbroken opportunities for studying their conduct and character. I soon grew very fond of Lewis, though he usurped the place of George. There was a simplicity and helplessness about him which made me feel the same kind of interest in him one feels for a child. That he should partake in the crime, which I knew some one of the family must be guilty of, seemed impossible. But I could not come to any conclusion about Mrs Haddan. It was quite possible that she had never seen the packet addressed to her husband; and that her son, who was now dead, was the only guilty person. There was none of the disquietude of a mind conscious of some possible calamity to befall her in the future. She was positively without any other apprehension for the future except of the untimely death of Lewis, which she dreaded with a continual dread. But then her conscience had not been troubled from without for fifteen years ; and in fifteen years even sin has lost the sharpness of its sting. Did she kno wof George Haddan's claim or not ?

I watched her very closely, and pondered over all her words and ways. That she det<§ ed thenextheir—a clergyman, and his wife, a pert, silly young woman—was plain enough. She did not attempt to conceal it from themselves. They paid the house one visit while I was there, and she tieated them with undis-

guised contempt. • They only aggravated her by their solicitude about Lewis; and »he scarcely waited for them to be gone before her anger broke out into words. ' The fools !' she exclaimed, for the dowager did not always use very choice language—'the hypocrites! They reckon upon having Haddan Lodge if anything happens to Lewis. But they will find themselves mistaken j they never shall.'

' How can they expect to have Haddan Lodge ?' I asked, quietly. ' They believe themselves the next heirs,' she went on, in growing anger, ' but they may find themselves mistaken. I will hunt up George Haddan's children in America.' She paused suddenly, and looked down upon me with her large grand eyes. I was putting some spring flowers together, and appeared altogether unexcited. George was my husband's eldest son,' she added, ' and he died in America. Who knows if he did not marry some American woman ? There was some vague claim made about the time of my husband's death j but nothing came of it. If anything should happen to Lewis before he comes of age, I would find them out again, if only to trouble those fools and hypocrites. There's no trouble like having one's rights disputed.' She said no more; but this was quite enough for me. Now I felt sure that she was at the bottom of it, and that the papers had been taken care of. I had no one to talk it over with ; for after putting me into the way of becoming acquainted with the dowager Mrs Haddan, Mr Newill had avoided holding any conversation with me. I suppose he was right; at any rate I could do without any man's advice Mrs Newill was equally reserved now ; and I was glad of it. I did not wish to talk and gossip and chatter about my actions. Mrs Haddan had preserved these documents I was convinced ; but where ? To keep them in her possession would be dangerous, for a chance might reveal the secret; and her own illness or death would be sure to betray it. Yet to entrust them to any one who was not a sharer in the secret would be still more dangerous. They were no doubt in some place where she could find them when she chose, and she would have some story ready to account for their discovery. If Lewis should die before he could make a will, his grandmother would lay her hands by accident upon the important papers reinstating George in his possessions. But if Lewis lived George was doomed to a life of bitter disappointment, and a lurking suspicion of his mother's honor. I thought over it all, day and night, until it took a complete hold upon me. Theconclusion forced itself upon me that Mr James Haddan had neverknown of the existence of this packet, which had been put into his mother's hands when it reached Haddan Lodge. Had she opened it in the presence of any other person, or had she deliberately taken counsel with some one ? If the latter, it would probably be some woman; for with a lady of her age and position a woman was likely to stand in a closer intimacy than any man not of her own family. If so, her confidante would probably have possession of the papers, as being a person, of less mark than Mrs Haddan, of Haddan Lodge. But she had no confidential servant, for her maid was a youngish woman, who had only been with her a few months; and there seemed to be no ancient retainers belonging to the house.

I had been there several days, and was still a welcome guest at Haddan Lodge, when Lewis said one morning at breakfast, ' Granny, I was dreaming of Becket in the night.' • Becket!' I repeated,' what a singular name. Who can it belong to ?' ' She was my nurse,' he answered ; 'my second mother, in fact, for my own mother died at; my birth. Her husband was our headgardener ; and she had been my grandmother's maid up to the time of my father's marriage.' 'The best maid that ever lived,' put in Mr Haddan, warmly, * and the very best nurse to Lewis. She had just lost her own child, the only one she ever had, and she loved. Lewis a 9 if he had been her own.' To think that our Mrs Haddan had never told us that her Aunt Becket was married! I said no more about her till the dowager had left the room, and we were alone. ' What became of your nurse ?' I asked. ' Oh,' said Lewis rather sorrowfully,' it is a very curious case of monomania. I remember it coming on, though I was only four or five years old. She grew gradually morose and suspicious, took to locking up her boxes, and after that the door of her room, and would not let the other servants so much as look into it. Once she boxed a girl's ears soundly for standing in the passage near the door ; the girl left at once. Then she took to carrying a small strong satchel about with her wherever she went, and flew into a rage if anybody spoke about it, which the servants would do constantly just to teaze her. Nobody knew what was in it. Her savings perhaps. My grandmother talked to her, and reasoned with her again and again ; but it was of no use at all. The mania grew upon her and she became more and more restless. Perfectly rational you know, upon every other point, but as mad as a March hare upon that. She would stayout of door all day long, marching up and down the grounds, ready to talk quite sensibly, but even I dare not touch her bag. She knocked me down once for trying to get it from her.'

' What was done with her then ?' I asked, scarcely able to conceal my excitement. ' Of course she was obliged to be sent away,' said Lewis, ' But not to an asylum. There was positively no risk either to herself or any one else, if she was only left alone My father placed her with some tenants of ours, with strict orders for no one to interfere with her about her bag. He told the people what her mania was, and assured them there was nothing of any value in it. There could be no-

tog, her husband B aid so. Poor.Beoket! It ■ wis a creat trouble to him as long as he lived. | Kshe goes on very comfortably, and di about ten years since she left us. 'But suppose she should be ill, or die? 11 ° U « ThenVnshend has strict orders to bring it afot Tmt be «if she has any secret, poor soul, it would c-e Townshend and his w.fe. Besides, the bag Wo&l/d be of no worth to themI could no longer control my agitation, and I\?s& Lewis abruptly. Here was the solution o£'my perplexed questionings. Becket had Mrs Hadrian's secret, or the later had taken her into her confidence as the foster-mother of Lewis. Her hatred of her wretty neice wou'd only add intensity to her rage at finding her about to usurp the place of mistress of Haddan Lodge. I comprehended, with distinct clearness, her gradually increasing ear& and terror in possession of 'chdse'importatst papers, until, with respect to them, her reason bad given way, and monomania seized upon her. To find her out—an easy task with the help of Le«vis—and to put myself in some way in communication with this mad woman, were my next steps. I contrived to bring my visit to a speedy conclusion, and left Haddan Lodge with the cordial invitation of the dowager Mrs Haddan, and of Lewis, to return there soon, and to make a much longer stay. chapter nr. I dared not disclose to G-eorge or Mrs Haddan what I had determined to do. A great coldness and estrangement arose between us, for Mrs ISTewill wrote to ask me to go with her to a seaside place in Wales, and I. caught at the invitation eagerly, as a means of effecting an absence of two or three months without arousing curiosity or suspicion. George thought me growing indifferent to his painful and perplexing circumstances, and. with man's irrational jpalousy, accused me, again with man's natural coarseness, of having seen some oue I liked better than him at Mrs Newill's, and of being -willing to forsake him. That man ean never understand woman is a self-evident axiom ; therefore I did *-ot attempt to explain myself to him. I only told him that if he chose he might write to me in Wales ; and I then made arrangements with Mrs Newill to forward his letters to me, and mail my replies at the town where I was supposed to be staying with her. I found the house where Becket was living situated in a small hamlet, lying on the outskirts of Epping Forest. It, was a large old building, chiefly of timber, which had in former days been the country residence of rich city families. The front towards the house was pretentious, with half columns of stone on each side of the door, but a little board set up on a pole in the centre of a bed of standard roses, informed the passers-by that pai-t of that eligible residence was to let. spring was fairly set in, and the summer season was fast coming on, when the dwellers in London, weary of its heat and noise, would seek out ahady country houses like this. I passed the gate twice, looking up inquisitively to the windows, and then I walked boldly up to the door and rang. The servant who opened to me ashered me at once, upon hearing ray errand, into an apartment furnished as a dining-room, with that ingenous disregard to comfort characteristic of rooms to let. I waited here with some impatience for the appearance of Mrs Townshend, who came in at last, with a recently arranged dress, and a very clean collar. She rubbed her large fat hands assiduously while she talked to me, and measured me with her small eyes. I wanted two rooms, I told her, a bedroom and a sitting room, which I might keep, should they suit me, for fchree months ; but I took care to give her no indication of my circumstances or position. Should I like to see over the house, she asked. Certainly, I replied. Upon that she conducted me to an immense, dreary, and uncomfortable drawing room over the dining room, with the aame kind of desolate air about ifc; but I said nothing. Then, with something like an apology, she showed me a low, narrow room at the back of the house, with a small bed room at the end, separated from it only by a wooden partition. It had three windows looking out upon a garden, and I went at once to one of fchem. It was the most completely shut in plot of ground I ever saw, with high hedges, and rows of very tall, thick trees surrounding it on every side, forming a kind of square against the sky arching over them. There was nothing, in fact, to be seen on any hand except the garden, which was laid out in regular and large bedß, with straight walks crossing one another at right angles. Yet in this early spring time it looked very pleasant, a hundred times more pleasant than the dismal rooms within. As I stood gazing out of the window and deliberating, a tall, strong, athletic-looking wqman of fifty, with a hard face, a face that looked set like iron, came out from among some trees to the left, walking direct towards the house, so that she just faced me. She trod vigorously, and held herself with unusual erectness. There was an indomitable energy in her carriage, and in the expression of her powerful features. Upon her left arm was a small satchel, which I saw the first instant she appeared, for there was no attempt to conceal it, though it was hung well on towards the bend of the elbow. Her hands were large and strong, like those of a man, and were clasped before her with a close grip, which made me think for the instant, as I often thought afterwards, how the clutch of those fingers would feel at my throat. I raised my hand involuntarily to my neck, and turned away shuddering. 1 You have a lodger already,' 1 said, wondering if Mrs Townshend had seen my agitation. ' Ah, yes! poor thing!' she answered, • I should not think of concealing it from you. That is the only drawback to my apartments. Many and many a time I miss letting them because of her. * Not that she ia any nuisance,

T vou; she is hot mad as one may say, j but a little cracked. You'd never see her excent in the garden; and she's as harmless as a babv I keep her because she is a permanence, and Mrs Haddan, of Haddan Lodge, is very liberal. I'm sure you need not be afraid ° f < l lam never afraid,'l replied, and I think these rooms will just suit me. I am an artist in water colors, and I want a quiet place in the c6untry.' Jt v?a.3 a stroke of my imaginatioa, fornOwlVas'fairly io for }*, * gave it the reins. Fainting in WM GOlors would ad as well as anything else } for I could do a few daubs at random as well as moat girls, and at any rate Mr Townshend would be no critic. * You will take these back rooms then, miss ?' she said, with a very obvious descent to familiarity; ... «Yes,' I answered, * and I suppose you will let me come in at once, if I pay a week in advance. I don't want to-return to London, and my luggage is all at the station.' ' Well, you may come,' she said affecting to hesitate for a moment or two. ( i suppose I may walk in the garden when I choose?' I added. 1 To be.sure,' she said, 'if you ve no fear of Mrs Becket. 1 I went back to the station which was nearly two miles away, to bring my large quantity of luggage; for I had been obliged to pack for a prolonged sojourn in a fashionable sea-bathing place and had a number of things with me of no use whatever in my assumed circumstances. Mrs Townshend cast an eye of favor upon my many boxes, and declined being paid a week's rent in advance. . t It was evening by the time I wa3 installed in my new abode. My first feelings were vaguely mournful. I examined my room more closely, and found that the furniture consisted of-four cane-seated chairs, two of them broken in the back and tied together with old bonnet ribbons; a large chest of drawers, with a teatray reared on the top against the wall; a queer kind of sofa, called a squab by Mrs Sownshend, with each of its four legs supported by some volumes of religious works; a portrait or two of preachers, and an extensive map of London. A. small shaky table stood in the middle of the floor, covered with a faded shawl instead of a cloth. I looked round the place in ludicvious dismay, but I had no one to speak to ; and I seated myself on one of the unbroken chairs by the window. The evening was growing more dusky every moment; and the hawthorn bushes, covered with white blossoms on every twig to the very heart of them glimmered with the strange weird halo which all white flowers have in the twilight: All at once, from amidst, the profusion of flowers stepped out the strong sauare figure of the monomanica; and I shrank back once more with a wanr'ng sensation of terror. It was a day or two before I was upon speaking terms with Backet; for I resolved to act with great caution, and I wished her to be the first to advance towards an acquaintance. Upon one side of the garden there was a walk completely hidden by trees, elms and limes growing on the outer side, and smaller garden treas, laburnums, acacias, and lilacs, on the other. At the furthest end of it was a small open alcove, a common thing enough, such as are to be seen anywhere in tea-gardens ; but with a pretty view from it up the checkered vista of the trees, with a glimp3ehere and there into the fields at the side, now white and yellow with spring flowers. This was a favorite haunt of Becket, and I made it my favorite also. She passed me a few times when I was sitting there, eyeing me askance; but as I smiled pleasantly at her, she spoke to me at last. '1 think there'd be room for us both in there,' she said. • Plenty of room,' I answered heartily, moving my painting things off the little table. She took her seat opposite to me where I could look at her well. Her course features wore that peculiar expression of self-conceit, so often to be seen in the insane j an expression which did not lay claim to any compassion or sorrow for her state ; and I must own that I felt none at the time, though I knew the woman was a maniac. ' Have you brought your work with you ? I asked, glancing at her satchel. Becket's eyes glared fiercely at me for a moment, and her heavy brows frowned ; but I gazed steadily and smilingly into her angry face, without venturing a second glance at the satchel, and the impending storm cleared away. «I have no work to do now,' she said. ' My working days are over.' ' While mine are only beginning,' I remarked, pointing to my miserable attempt at painting. I found that Becket had a good deal to say about water colors, painting on velvet, and other lady-like accomplishments, and while she ran on fluently, I covered my eyes with my hand, and furtively examined her satchel. It was a small strong bag of black leather, stamped with a peculiar scroll work, and finished off ,by a double steel rim running round the opening, with a lock in the centre. A short steel chain of twisted links was attached to it, and had been rubbed very bright by hanging always on her arm. It was evident that there could not be much in it, for the sides fell rather flatly in. There was no chance of touching it; that I should have guessed instinctively, if Lewis had not told me how she had knocked even him down for venturing to do so. Becket seemed a little disquieted while I was only looking at it, as if she felt what I was about, though I was quite sure she could not see what I was doing. My first step was to procure a satchel exactly similar to the one she always carried about with herein the hope some chance might present itself of making an exchange, which in my case surely would be no robbery. Here I found a great difficulty. I had to visit half the trunk shops ia London, and look at thou-

sands of satchels. I had to slink through the streets in mortal terror lest I should encounter G-eorge on his almost hopeless quest. To meet him would be ruin to my well laid plans, fori knew he would never let me return to the bouse where his mother's mad aunt was living. After a weary search, I discovered an out-of-the-way dusty store in the city, kept by a foreigner of elaborate politeness, who appeared to have fallen asleep amidst the roar jmd din vi 3f If KWffii & m l *£ i - --" Pawned solely at my entrance. He look, immense interest in my want, and overhauled some scores of faded old" bags, piled upon his upper shelves. We came upon one after a long investigation, which I thought was sufficiently like Becket's for my purpose. It had been lying by for years, and the steel was dim but not rusty; with a little rubbing it would put on as much brightness as the chain on Becket's satchel. I returned to my lodgings triumphant in having overcome my first difficulty ; but my triumph waa short-lived. Upon turning the corner of the road which brought me in sight of the house, what should I see at the gate but the well-known carriage of Mrs Haddm, of Haddan Lodge ? What could she be doing there? Was it possible that some subtle mysterious provision had warned her of danger to the documents so important to her, and that she had come with the intention of removing them to her own keeping ? Would Becket's monomania be under her control ? A profound anxiety seized upon me. I dared not go on, and run the risk of being seen by her or Lewis, and yet 1 would have given worlds to be inside the house at my post of observation in my room.. For I felt sure that the interview between Mrs Haddan and her old servant would take place in the open garden, rather than in the house, where they might be overheard. Overheard ! I caught at the thought as it crossed my brain. I must hide myself somewhere ; and there was a path along the other side of the thick hedge surrounding the garden—a private path through some gentleman's grounds, but private as it was, I resolved to try to enter it. The lodge was close beside me, and the lodge-keeper was busy Bbout her house so I stole in unseen. I crept down the hedge till I came to the back of the wooden alcove in the garden. How plainly I could have heard them if they had but been in it! But all was silent there, with no sound save the whistling of the blackbirds, and the clear little trills of the nightingales, singing in the sunshine remniscences of their midnight concerts. I jould no more see through the thick hedge than I could through a stone wall; and I stole a little further on, and sat down on the hedge-bank, listening as if I were all ear. I could hear the shrill piping note of the thrush, and the smallier, thinner, bell-like tone of the charffinch. I heard the hum of the bees in the clover at my feet, and lime blossoms overhead. I heard the rustling of the young leaves in the light breeze of the spring, and the chirping of little unfledged birds in their nests nests, and the scamperin of tiny field mice through the fine blades of grass growing for hay. Beneath all I could hear a Strang, sad, solemn, sound, more sad and solemn than the sea, which I knew must be the far-away moan of the great city.