CHAPTER IX.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 165, 14 August 1886, Page 7

CHAPTER IX.

THS JJMDY OF USBON PLACE. About fifteen years ago— thirteen from the commencement of our story — a murder was committed in New York. There is nothing novel, or even startling, about this state* meat; such, things have been 1 done since, and many ot them have been shocking in their surroundings. This was peculiar on account of the famous trial which followed it»- in which a woman, the pretended wife of the murdered man, was the defendant. Whether mnocentorguiity, she wasa woman of infinite cunning ; and must have possessed more than the average, power of intellect to conduct herself, . as she did, through the ficenes of her imprisonment and trial. Suffice it to say, that the crime could not be absolutely fixed upon her, and that she was finally acquitted; but that public opinion did not chime with the verdict She was considered guilty, and Bhunned as one of the most depraved of her sex — a woman who had murdered the man whom Bhe had infatuated, for his property, and had carried out all her plot from beginning to end with a boldness as well as a cunning which would have done credit to the worst man that ever followed crime as a calling. •To live amid the scenes of her disgrace was impossible to her. She disposed of her iH-gotten estate as she best could, disappearing from the sight and knowledge of the public, and, in the course of time, from its remembrance, except when some partially parallel case caused people to say, " That reminds me of the murder-" About the same time with these occur* xencea — not, however, in the remotostmanuer connected with them, as yet— a widow lady was living on her coffee plantation in Cuba. The lady's name was Jardine ; her maiden name had been Sebastian. There, when - quite young, she had been addressed by an American gentleman— or rather we should say, since all were Americans together — a • citizen of the United States— a Mr Jardine, Of Philadelphia, a wealthy shipping merchant. With the consent of her relatives ehe married him and returned with him to his own home, where she was quite famous for her southern style of beauty, her Spanish style of dross, her fine jewels, etc., for three or four years. After that Mr Jardine's health failing, he was advised to reside in Cuba. He tried that climate for one year, 'found that it agreed with him, sold out his business in Philadelphia, and removing permanently to Cuba, became a coffeeplanter. His plantations were large and profitable but a good distance from Havana, and both he and his gay young wife often felt the deprivation of society. But she was devoted to him ; and, ashishealth really seemed .greatly benefited by his present manner of living, she never murmured at the solitude of the plantation. Occasionally they spent -a few weeks in Havana ; but the most of the time they remained quietly on their estate. Two or three children were born to them, but inherited the consumptive tendencies of their father, and pined away in their babyhood. This drew the parents Btill more tenderly together. Their home was one of tho?e little paradises which poets love to paint ; a large rambling, picturesque, low-roof ed stone villa, embowered in sweets. All the year round flowers perfumed the air which fluttered at its windows. Roses, honeysuckles, the lovely cape jasmine, bloomed and gave forth their rich odouVs ; fountains played in the sunny air ; oranges •gleamed like orbs of gold amid their darkgreen leaveß. And if one clambered to the top of the gentle eminence about half-way up which the villa stood, the blue stretch of ocean broke on bis bight and its fresh breath fanned his. cheek. Mr Jardine's health, which bad appeared -to be so much better, gave way suddenly ; &c went into a rapid decline, and died after a few weeks' confinement to his room, leaving her so prostrated with grief that it is quite possible she might have died of a broken heart had not the little creature who clung to her — their babe, the only remaining tie — held her back to earth. This child, of all she had had, was healthy, and of a joyous, active temperament. Yet it was a picture in miniature of the father — his light hair, brown eyes, and fair complexion. She guarded it with jealous care ; she tried to live for its sake ; but her health was seriously affected by the shock of her husband's death. She wrote to her relatives that she wished they would come and -attend to selling off her estates, and when -they were settled, take her back to her native place. Her father was dead ; her only brother was in South America ; her nephew— he was her nephew, although only about, her own age— was now in family trouble of his -own. But he promised to come at the first opportunity. One hot summer afternoon, as the young -widow was sitting on her piazza, her child playing at her feet, languidly watching the near setting of the sun, and wishing that it were night and she could sleep and forget her troubles, the dogs began to -bark, and all the little pickaninnies on the place to run towards the house. A carriage was approaching, which unaccustomed event was sufficient to set the older servants as well as the pickaninnies, to running and staring ; co that, by the 'time the driver jerked up his span of mules -in front of .the long piazza, quite a crowd was collected to do honour to the occasion. A lady, dressed in mourning and deeply veiled, descended from the lo k, old-fashioned vehicle. Miss Jardine at once inferred that ■ here was the companion for whom she bad .been longing, and advanced rapidly to meet her. " Is this Mrs Jardine ?" asked a soft, very low voice behind the veil. " It is ; and you ?" "I am Mrs Henderson. Your friends approved of my testimonials, and I came to ' offer myself as companion." Mrs Jardine noticed immediately how pale eh© was, and sad looking. "They should have sent me some one -more cheerful and gay. She is too muck ■like myself," was her first mental com* -ment. "What a dear little child! What a •beautiful little creature!" cried Mrs -Henderson, a?, in passing into the wide, old hall, she beheld the two-year-old daughter shyly hiding behind ber black nurse. " Perhaps you are a mother ?" remarked -Mra Jardine, touched by her denunstra.tions of feeling. "I have been, but now I am a widow and childless " . t " . Calling the bright-eyod mulatto girl who on, the chambers, she ordered her "to show Mrs Henderson to her rocm and atx tend to ber wants until tea-time, which was not far off. Then, when alone, she sat down to read > the letter rirom ber banking firm, which had been delivered by the driver, and •which eaid:

" Havana, June 18th. -'Hits Jardine, Litboh Piaoe,' *> *' .*.-** •*/» -i l \ HonoxKH t Madam :— Then* have • been bat five, answer! to our advertiiemenkand, from ttiiwe we have selected the only one .who seems eveh pitiably qualified to All the position. < Her credentials are ratisfaotory. uSae came/he?* from New Orleans ai governess, .with, a family, with whom we are acquainted. They like her ; but their boys are turbulent fellows', and fthe finds the situation too hard, the telln us. ' What we feat it, that her spirits are too broken to be te you the person you need. If you think go, we can try again. We made no positive promise to her. The driver will have to remain at your place until morning, so that you will have some chance to melee the acquaintance of Mrs Henderson before deciding. If you are dlssatiifled. you can sand her back in the carriage to-morrow. " Believe us, dear madam, yours to command, "Fjbrrkro Bros." Mrs Jardine Bat with the letter in her ! hand, debating the question, until summoned to the tea-table. It certainly was pleasant to hare some one— some human being of her own kind— to speak to, and to see opposite her at table. Yet, if she bad ' had freedom of choice, it would have been some merry-hearted girl she would have placed there. Mrs Hendersons manners were refined — her countenance handsome. It was evident that she tried to throw aside constraint, and be as cheerful and entertaining as was expected of her. Sho was a good conversationist, and had travelled far more than the lady of Lisbon Place had ever done. During the meal she chatted of many places and scenes, making herself very interesting ; but all her sparkling talent appeared to play only on the outside ; her liatenor was conscious that the woman was not betraying herself in anything she said. " Perhaps I was foolish to expect in a companion a friend — one in every way congenial. I might try fifty without finding one, unless by some happy chance. This Mrs Henderson appears to be a lady ; she commands my respect. Perhaps in time I shall learn to like her. I will give her a trial." Thus* deciding, Mrs Jardine fell asleep. But when she went down in the morning, and sat through the breakfast-hour with her new companion, she felt as undecided as ever. Aa they withdrew from the table, Mrs Henderson took Belle by the hand and led her out on the piazza. Mrs Jardine remained behind a Bhort time to give some orders to the servants. When she joined them on the porch, she found her child nestled to the stranger's bosom, looking up at her with fond glances. " What a heavenly spot Lisbon Place is !" observed Mrs Henderson, castingher glances over the beautiful scene, fresh and sweet With the dews of morning. "If there were peace to be found anywhere in this world, I think it might be found here." " But there has been death here," replied h6r hostess, in a low voice ; •• and there is a broken heart here." <€ Even so. But where could that broken heart be more fitly and gently prepared for the new joys of another life than here?" " Perhaps I misjudge her, thinking her cold," she reflected. "She seems a religious woman ; and my little angel clings to her." "What is your religious belief, Mrs Henderson ?" she suddenly thought to inquire, "lam a Catholic," was the response, and the stranger drew from her bosom and kissed a large gold cross. , "That ia well," said Mra Jardine, who was one of the most devout of Catholics. " Baby Belle, mamma is going to send me away." •• No-no-no !" cried Baby Belle, " me want 'oo " " The child has decided," paid Mrs Jardine, smiling. " Then I am to stay ? oh, thank Baby Belle," kissing her. " Do not think that I had any S9rious objections to you, Mrs Henderson," said the lady frankly. "My object in seeking a companion was to obtain some joyous young person who would brighten up the house for my little daughter, and sometimes make me forget my solitude for an hour. My first impression was unfavourable to you as being too much like myself, care-worn and in affliction. But it may be that each can comfort the other. My own sorrows should teach me to be very tender with others. I cannot dismiss you because ycu, too, are sad. Let us be friends." "I cannot speak my thanks, Mrs Jardine. I did not want to be sent away from here. I loved this place the moment I caw it. Only give me a trial. If I cannot be girlish I can be cheerful! More, you seam in ill-health, and I am an excellent nurse. I may be of great service to you in that capacity. It will be grievous for you to be seriously ill, with no competent person in the house. In such a caso,fyou would find me nuroe, housekeeper, overseer, financier, any and everything you needed. I have had ample experience." Mrs Jardine began to think she had been foolish in wanting a yuung person in the bouse. '• Mrs Henderson," she said, "I did not expect such service for the salary offered ; but if you are willing to give it, I will treble the amount. " " I like responsibility," was the cheerful response, " and you do not. I see that I can be of groat use to you. So I will not be mock-modest, but accept your offer, and begin my duties at once. I trust that the I antipathy which you now feel for me will vanish in time." " But I do not feel any antipathy !" cried the lady, blushing. The other only smiled in return. So the driver was sent back to Havana, and the engagement ratified. In lees than a month nothing could have persuaded the Lady of Lisbon Place to part with Mrs Henderson. \ That woman had the ambitious epirit, the inimitable faculty of New England housekeepers. While she took come pains to keep the good- will of the- lazy house servants, she yet got far more service % oufc of them than had ever been gotten before. The sad and languid Southern lady was flad to place anything in her hands, until, efore ft year had passed away, it wad to Mrs Henderson that the steward brought his accounts, with whom the overseers conferred, from whom the servants took their orders. She had some enemies among those lastnamed, but all respected her and feared her. The pale, tall lady — looking enough like their mistress to be an elder sigter— with the low, even voice, and the black eyes under whose look they trembled— had them all in abject submission. And this without any tumult. She never had open trouble with any save one— the girl who waited upon her the first night of her arrival, and who had conceived toward her a dislike which deepened into hatred. "Glora" was this wench's name. She had given it to herself, and it always remained her great admiration and that of her companions. It made her feel " sot up" to answer to such a fine name. Glora was a handsome mulatto, fully as intellectual as her white father had . been— a keen, bright saucy girl, very quick and- observant, and warmly, paseipnately attached to her mistress. A year glided on, bringing no perceptible change to Lisbon Place, except that produced by the energy of Mrs . Henderson. Mrs Jardine was rather paler, thinner, and more languid; 'She had resigned all care, but she did not seem to improve ' She pined for the scenes of her childhood, and

wrote more than, once very impatiently to her nephew, Senor' SebMtiani to cdmVancl take her »way.< ' She^aa 6ne of thoie clinging creatures wiio' ! never do "anything 4or themselves. At length the senor wrbte that he was so situated as to. be able to come, and she looked for him daily.v. ' v "■ > ' ' Little Bella was healthier, brighter, more engaging than ever.' ' Mr£j Henderson was teaching her the 'alphabet, - and to ' run her dimpled fingers tip and down the scale en the piano. 'It was hard to tell which the little creature loved best — this lady or her own mother— nor, indeed, which loved her most fondly. - J , 1. 1 • . "Sebastian will be astonished at my pet's cunning ways. Do you beliere he anticipates finding such a little beauty, and co bright?" " I think your letters mußt have prepared him in some degree, madam." ' " "Oh, now; Mrs Henderson, • you are laughing at me ! Atleaßt, he will not be disappointed. I think he must arrive this week." .But Senor Sebastian did not arrive Neither were there any letters from him. Mrs Jardine waited, and wondered, and pined for Mexico. Another year slipped away; the third year began. She was more anxiousthan ever to get away. Livingin this solitary manner in her plantations ehe felt was not the thing ; the first rautterings of the Revolution began to be heard, the slaves w«W restless, and she anticipated thnsa coming times of war, rapine, and insurrection. " Oh, why did not Sebastian come ?" • To sell her estates with the country so unsettled would be to sacrifice them at half, or less, of their value. She consulted Mrs Henderson over and over again. "For her part," she said, "she did not much fear the soldiers; but she did distrust the slaves." ' Full of horrors at this suggestion, Mrs Jardine complied with her request that all articles of value and money should be' packed and taken secretly, by the most trusted of her overseers; with a guard of negroes and placed in the house of Ferrero Brothers, Havana. This was done successfully, and the party on their return, brought with' them a good store of ammunition and arms for defence ; also a proeeing invitation from Ferrero Brothers to Mrs Jardine, to bring her child, and come and remain in their family until after the rebellion was suppressed. Mrs Jardine was inclined to do this ; but Mrs Henderson opposed it- on the ground it would be unjust to abandon the people on the plantations. Ot wh<\t followed, soon after, we will now give but a glimpse. That nephew, Senor Sebastian, although hitherto prevented by a reason which we will explain in due time, had made up his mind, hearing of the frightful scenes taking place in Cuba, to goat once for his aunt, and remove her to Mexico, when he received another letter from her, bidding him, if not yet started, to remain where he was. " You will be too late to be of any service to me here," she said. "My tstai.es are in ruins, the villa partially destroyed, and I have fled to ffavanah, whence I sail for Mexico in a few days. We were siupriaed in the night. Tne servants defended us nobly. Ie ia to them that I owe my life and thit of my little girl. They got ub out of the house, after it was in flames, surrounded us in a dense crowd, which kept the iuffians at bay for the moment, hurried us into a carriage to which horses had long been kept harness© A In case, of such, an emergency, and under cover ot the darkness got us away. I cannot tell how I regret to adii that my friend and beloyed companion, Mr-s Henderson, was killed in her own room. The shock has been dreadful to me. I cannot yet write or think about it I phrink from my own looka in the mirror, they reflect so faithfulV'tbe state of n.y mind and nerves. But asyou and I have not met since I was a happy bride you will not be able to perceive, as my friends here do. bow this ha 9 changed me. However, my darling cMld )s well, safe. 1 happy- thank the blesspd Viretn f>>r that! lam going tonight to offer my thanks on her altar, JSver your faithful .' "' Jijlietta Jardine." '•P.S.—T forgot to say that my favourite girl. GloTa, was also killed. I saw her lyinjc at thp foot of the staircase as they hurried me out of the burning house."