Storyteller.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 26, 23 September 1893, Page 13

Storyteller.

A VEET WOMAN.

(By Phoebe Allen, in Home Paper.) It was quite clear that something’ had gone wrong with my cousin Hephzibah. I saw it at a glance as I entered her morning-room, where I always found her day after day in the same straight-backed elbow chair, with the tortoise-shell cat at her feet and the low claw table beside her, on which lay a book and gold-rimmed spectacles to be taken up in turn and when the knitting (with which she was always busy) should be laid aside. But this morning the knitting was neglected, and her little blackmittened hands were folded over a letter which lay on her knees, whilst I could see by the heightened colour in her usually pale face, and the peculiar twitching of her mouth, that the contents of that letter had seiiously affected my aged relative. “ Good morning, cousin Hephzibah,” 1 said. “ Have you had any news of Maud to-day P “ Indeed I have,” she answered, “ and really I begin to think that it is time I went out of the world. There! I can’t conceive what the women of the present day are coming u That sounds as if Maud had written something startling, I said. “ Upon my word, Hose, it seems as if the young women of the period will never know where to stop in then imitation of men and men’s ways. There’s Maud writes me that her husband - —more shame for him has bought a revolver for her, and is teaching her how to use it, so that in the event of a burglar alarm she have the means of defence in her pocket. Defence, indeed ! She’s much more likely to blow out her brains or her husband’s (if he has any, that’s to say, which I take the liberty of, doubting) than to find any other use for her revolver. Dear, dear, when I think of what my grandmother would have said of such doings.” . “ But Maud does live in ratlxer a lonely place, you know,” I ventured to observe. . “ A lonely place ! Fiddlesticks and blue gum !” ejaculated my cousin (I always wonder why she is so fond of invoking that sticky substance). “ Why, you should see the lonely places’folks used to live in when I was young, miles away from town or village, and cut off from all easy communication with their fellow creatures. I’m sure, when I remember where my great aunt Penelope lived and died, it seems as if it Avere a different world altogether. That was a lonely spot, if you like, but she never dreamt of handling revolvers. Ho,” and my cousin drew up her long neck and gave a little toss of her head, “no, she w’ould have thought it beneath her dignity to come to blows with a burglar !” “ Oh, I suppose so,” said I ; “ she would have fainted away (no, swooned was the right idiom, wasn’t it ?) at the si°‘ht of a house-breaker, and would° have needed burnt feathers and hartshorn to bring her round, whilst the burglar and all her valuables would have disappeared together. W ell, the idea of a revolver may be a very shocking one to you, cousin Hephzibah, but I’m glad 1 didn’t live in those days when women were content to spend all their lives over wool work and painting on chicken’s skins, and writing stilted epistles after the style of I he hlodel Letter Writer.” “ H’m; so that s your notion ot all that women could do in the last century,” said cousin Hephzibah grimly. “ Well wait a bit, and I will tell you a story of my aunt Penelope’s courage —a story which you would find it hard to caqj in these days.” “It happened towards the end ot the last century. In those days people didn’t put things into print and get accounts of themselves and their doings sold for the price of a penny through the length and breadth of the land. ° And I suspect I am the only

person living now who ever beard the story from the lips of an eye-witness, for my aunt seldom spoke of It, and Nannie, her faithful maid, from whom I heard it in my early childhood, has long since been gathered to her rest. “ Aunt Penelope Decies never married, and at the time of which I speak she lived by herself in a pretty . but extremely lonely cottage at the end of a long, narrow’, "winding lane off from the high road between London and Hastings. Her household consisted of Nannie, her confidential waiting woman, who, like her mistress, was now upwards of sixty; David, her reliable factotum, growing grey-headed also, but some dozen years youngex - than his fellow-servant; and Jim, the odd boy, Avho divided his time between the garden and the stable, where he helped David to groom aunt Penelope’s belov’ed Snowflake, a splendid Avhite horse, upon Avhich she rode forth on Sunday’s and state occasions, pillion fashion, Avith the trusty David in front. “ A high oak palling ran round the Avhole of my aunt's modest estate, Avhich, Avith its garden and small paddock and bit of orchard-ground, covered something over three acres, and it was David’s business to lock up the garden gate and take a good look all round the outside premises the last thing every night, before AvithdraAving to his OAvn sleeping apartment, Avhich was over the stable. Aunt Penelope and Nannie took care to see that the inside of the house AA’as duly secured, visiting each lock and bolt carefully, and adjusting inside bells on all the window shutters. Once and again they had been alarmed—chiefly’ in the hopping season —by the sound of stealthy footsteps on the gravel path, and twice the orchard hadbeen robbed, and once a couple of fatting foAA’l had been stolen, but no one had ever attempted to break into the house actually, though why they’ did not (considering, as aunt Penelope admitted, that they might all have been murdered in their beds and no one Avould have been a bit the wiser) Avas a fertile source of wonder to many’. Ivy Cottage, as it was called, was absolutely lonely and remote from all other habitations —vvhy, the nearest village was five miles off, so that the pilgrimage to church was, indeed, a Sabbath day’s journey’, and one not to be lightly taken in hand if the weather was threatening’ or the roads likely to be flooded. “ But if anyone suggested to aunt Penelope the advisability of a change to a more frequented locality seeing that, with the exception of Jim (who Avas as deaf as a post, by the Avay’) they Avere all getting on in years, the old lady became so indignant that the same person never made the same suggestion twdce. Lonely, indeed ! and in Avant of protection forsooth ! What better protector could she have than her devoted Nannie and her good faithful DaA’id, and Jock, the house dog, Avho barked so furiously at the slightest sound that David declared that be Avas better far than the alarm-bell, Avhich was suspended outside the house and furnished with tAA’O long pulley’s, one of which hung immediately OA’er my aunt’s bed, and the other over Nannie’s. “ One night, in the late autumn, the little household had Avithdrawn to bed as usual. It was wild, blustering wca' her, the wind rising- and falling in loud sobbing fits, driving- heavy scuds of rain before it, and rattling windows mercilessly. ‘lt AA’as, indeed, a good thing to have a roof over one’s head,’ aunt Penelope had said to herself as she lay down in her heavilycurtained four-post bed, and Avith this very suitable reflection her eyes closed and she wandered into dreamland. She must have been asleep for two hours, Avhen she was suddenly’ startled by an unusual sound outside her door, as though someone AA’as moving about in the passage. Could it be Nannie P She sat up in bed and listened. No ; those footsteps —if footsteps they were —were certainly not Nannie’s, for in the stillness of the night she could hear that worthy old servant-maid

snorin loudly in the room-a/ijoining her o r■ i i. \ “It must have been fancy,” she said at length ; “ if any stranger had been about Jock would certainly have deafened them with his barking.” Thereupon she laid down again. A minute later, however, there came a low grating sound as of some one trying to force hack the lock of the door, and Aunt Penelope sat upright again. There was no mistake about it thik time, something was moving and at work somewhere. Yet still slow to take alarm, she was persuading herself that it was probably a mouse in the wainscot, when the door opened very gradually, admitting at first a slender thread of light as from some carefully shaded lantern, and then a tall dark figure, treading warily in stocking feet. In a moment the old lady's hand was on the alarm-bell rope, but at the firsttouch.it fell from the wall on the bed beside her. The cord had evidently been cut through. “ Who are you, and what do you want ? Aunt Penelope then asked in a firm loud voice. As she told Nannie later, she was so indignant at any man daring to entei’ her bedx-oom that her wrath at the intrusion quite swallowed up her fears as to its consequences. “Very slowly the figure turned round, and then a stouter heart than Aunt Penelope’s might have quailed at the sight of the crape-covered face •which met her view and which proved that that nightly visitant was on evil deeds intent. I have often thought since what a thrilling picture might he made of the little old lady sittingholt upright in that ancient four-post bed in her fx-illed nightcap and nightdress, summoning the closely-masked housebreaker to give an account of himself. “ Who are you ?” she asked agaiix, “ and what have you come for ?” “ Your keys,” said a low voice. At the sound of it Aunt Penelope’s heart stood still. “ Give up your keys quietly, or it will be the worse for you. For a moment the old lady hesitated ; finally, however, she drew the keys from under her pillow and handed them silently to the mystexious person. Then, as rigid and motionless as though she had been modelled in marble, Aunt Penelope still sat upright, watching how her jewel ease was opened and emptied, how hexprivate drawers were turned over and ransacked, and lastly how her cash was seized upon. That was the last act of this unpleasant drama, and the deeply-veiled figure, picking up the lantern and booty, vanished from the room. “ In the morning when Nannie went to call her mistress she would never have guessed from her calm, collected manner that anything Unusual had occurred in the night. Everything was in its place, the drawers were all locked np again ; thex-e was nothingdisarranged in the room. Punctually at eight o'clock Aunt Penelope went downstairs as usual, and read prayers to her small household. It was only afterwards that Nannie remembered how her voice quivered a little when she gave thanks for having been safely brought through the petals of the nigh t. “ Put when prayers were over and all had risen from their knees. Aunt Penelope detained her servants for a minute. “ Was anyone disturbed last night by any unusual sounds ?” she asked. “ No, madam, I heard nothing,’ 1 Nannie hastened to answer. David, wholly intent on rubbing some blemish off the silver buttons on bis sleeve, looked down and muttered something quite unintelligible. . “Did you, David?” asked my aunt, bending- her eye steadily on him. “ Yes, madam ; n —no, madam,” he answered ; n that is, I did fanc.y I heard a strange sort of sound some time in the night, but nothing worth mentioning.” “ Good,” said Aunt Penelope, “ though no one else seems to have been disturbed, I was, and that in a way which I consider worth mentionxng-, and mentioning it to Justice Baldwin, too” (he was the nearest

.magistrate) “so juju may put the piliioix saddle upon. Snowflake at once, David, and as soon as I have partaken of my breakfast we will start forth.” “As you -please, madam,” said David, leavixig the x-oom to obey orders, whilst my aunt jxroceeded to eat her breakfast as usual, giving various directions to Nannie about the days’ arrangements with the utmost conx-posux-e in voice and manner. Precisely at nine o’clock David brought the horses to the front door, where my axxnt stood x-eady to start on her seventeen miles’ ride, for Justxce Baldwin lived at that distance off. “ The weather is fearful threatening, madam,’, said faithful Nannie, “ and be sure, David, if the x-aixx comes on, to remember that the mistress’ overcloak is folded np in yonder strap.” “ But David mounted to his place in front of my aunt and said never a word. “Ah,” broke off cousin Hephzibah, “ talk of lonely roads nowadays. You should have seen the seventeen miles that aunt Penelope rode that morning, through long, winding lanes, so narrow and cx-amped at certain spots that wayfarers were bound to blow a horn to give notice of their approach, fox- in some places it was impossible for two vehicles to pass each other—not that there was often any necessity for doing so. Folks fx-equently rode and walked for miles in that country without meeting a soxxl, and this was the case with aunt Penelope on that cloudy November day of which I tell you. Save for one itinerant hawker with a basket of crockery on his head, and a handful of children x-itling the hedges for belated blackberries, not a living creatxxre cx-ossed her path from the time she left her house till the moment she drew up at Justice Baldwin’s door.” “ The sight of Snowflake -and hi§ mistress always conmxaxxded immediate attention ixx the neighbourhood, and in one minute the greyheaded butler had hastened out to leax-n Miss Decies’business. “Be good enough to ask your master to step here,” said aunt Penelope, still seated on her pillion, whilst David, having dismounted, stood at the horse’s head. ‘ Mr Justice Baldwin,’ she continued, as that gentleman appeared in the dooorway, bowing low, -1 have come to acquaint you, as magistrate of the law, that last night my bouse was broken into, my sleeping room forcibly entered, and ray cash-box with other valuables carried off.” “ Indeed, indeed, dear madam, cried Mr Baldwin, much perturbed, “were the offendex-s super ed to escape unchecked, or have you obtained some cine to them? Could you say with certainty Ixow marry thex-e were ?” “Thex-e was but one,” said my aunt, speaking very fu-iniy and distinctly, “and that one,” she continued, with outstretched hand, “ stands there. David Upton, I here and now discharge you from my sex-vice, and ” “ L ax-rest you in the name of the law,” said Justice Baldwin, stepping forward. ‘ John and Nicholas,’ he added, turning to two of his men, ‘ lead this fellow off to the justiceroom, and let Adam keep a strict eye on him.’ “Then, whilst the unhappy David was led away, Mr Baldwin turned to my aunt. ‘ My dear- .madam,’ lie said ‘ is it conceivable that you could have ridden all those lonely miles in sole company with that villain ?' “ Some one had to bring bun within reach of the ai-m or the law, sir,’ sire answered, “ and for that purpose I judged myself the fittest person. Having accomplished my task, I will now with your leave bid you good morning,’ and already she had turned her horse’s head homewards. “But, good heavens, my dear lady, you don’t px-opose to travel back alone 1” said Mr Baldwin “But my aunt laughed a little scornful laugh. Pray, sir, she said, do you imagine that the Px-ovidenoe who brought me here in safety in co upany with yon poor villain, will take less cax-e of me now I am rid of him. I trow not.’ “ Therewith she drove slowly home-

wards, heavy at heart, no doubt, and pondering sadly on the possible solution of David's defection. “ Why ever he should have been tempted" to do it, old Nannie would often say, I’ve never been able t > guess from that day to this, neither, as far as I know, has my mistress ; though-after that November morning she never spoke of David again, ’twas as if she could’nt bring his name over her lips for any sake. “ But from that day forward Aunt Penelope never rode out on Hnovvflake again, her riding pelisse hung unworn on her wardrobe peg, and the moths made sad havoc of her pillion saddle. “ And what became of David ?” asked I.

“Died in prison, as far as I know, for in those days women did not take the law into their own hands, either to blow out burglars’ brains or to molest the administrators of justice with importunities to remit justly earned sentences. When it was once suggested to Aunt Penelope that she should intercede for David’s release, her answer was brief and characteristic. No, having escaped with my own life from his clutches, I see no treason for affording him the opportunity for endangering somebody else.’ “ Well, certainly .she was a strongminded woman,” I said. “ She was a woman of character, my dear.” said Cousin Hephzibah, “ of that character which shows itself to be free and above circumstances. Without foi one moment overstepping the hounds of what was womanly, she was a heroine out and out. Pray, how many women of to-day, with their noisy clamour for their rights and revolvers and what not, would have had the solid courage to act as she did ; first of all, in the moment of actual danger, and then, after such a night, to rise up calmly, g-o through the regular routine of prayers and breakfast, knowing what was before her, and then, during a lonely ride of seventeen miles, deliberately place herself at the mercy of the man who, but a few hours before, had been ready to take her life, if he deemed it needful for that purpose ? Only conceive, too, how perfectly mistress of herself she must have been to have aroused no suspicion in the man as to the real object of her expedition. Aye, scoff as you will at the women of the last century, here was one who at any rate could put many a man to shame with her cool courage and unaffected heroism, and yet remain withal a very woman.”