CHAPTER XI 'KING OUT YOUR BELLS! LET MOURNING SHOWS BE SPREAD !'

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 397, 28 August 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER XI 'KING OUT YOUR BELLS! LET MOURNING SHOWS BE SPREAD !'

TuRKh days after, a long and stately procession passed slowly through the great gates, under the lofty Norman archway, bearing to the Catheron vaults the body of Ethel, lasfc Lady Catheron. A long and sad ceremonial ! Why, it

seemed only yesterday that that mournful, passing bell- had. rung - out the wel coming peal ; but yesterday since they had lit the bonfires, and tossed their hats in the ah', and cheered with all their heart and souls the gallant husband and lovely wife. For a ' squire of high degree ' to marry beneath him is something that goes home, warm and true, to every humble "heart. Sir Victor's tenantry bad never been half so proud of him as when he had brought among thorn his low-born wife. It seemed but yesterday that all the parish had seen her, walking up this very aisle, in pale, flowing silks, and with the sweetest face the sun ever shone on, leaning on her happy young husband's arm ; and now they carried her dead — foully murdered — to the open Catheron vault, and laid her to sleep for ever beside the high-born dames of the race who slept their last sleep there. ' All men are equal on the turf and under it,' once said a famous sporting nobleman. Ethol Dobb, the London soap-boilers daughter, took her place to-day among the dead daughters of earls nnd marquises, their equal at last, by right divine of the* great leveller, Death. " • A great and nolemn hush -pervaded:*3ll ranks, sexes, and classes Struck down in her sleep without a moment's warning, in her own horne — a deep murmur, that was like the murmur of an angry sea, ran through them as they collected together. Who had done this deed ? — the girl confined in Chesholm gaol, or her scoundrel brother ? They remembered him well — like Ishmael of old, his hand against every man, and eveiy man's hand against him, the head and instigator of every poaching fray, 01 hen-roost robboiy, every light and evil deed done in Chesholm. Both brother and sister hated her — Inez Catheron that she had taken her lover from her, Juan Catheron thai he had lost her himself. After Sir Victor he was heir-at-law. Failing the life of the infant bon, he might _ono day write himself Sir Juan. It was a lucky thing, croaked the Chesholtn gossips, that Nurse Pool had removed the baby, else the dagger that stabbed the mother would have found its way to the heart of the child. Curse the black-hearted murderer of sleeping women, and from Hie throng in the churchyard there rose up a groan to Heaven, and a hundred angry hearts pledged themselves to avenge it' if the law would not. • - : ' 'The coroner would have let' the young lady escape,' taid one. ' See how he snubbed Mrs Pool, and how easily he let her betters oil". If Justice Smiley hadn't got out his warrant, she'd have -been off to the continent and clear away, long before j this.' .. - l ' Why don't they find Juan Catheron ?' ' said another. ' They ttay they're looking for him — why don't they find him then ? Murderers don't escape so easily nowadays — the law finds 'em if it wants to find 'em. It's seven days since the murder was done, and no tale or tidings of "him yet.' ' And when he is found neithor he nor His sister shall escape. If the law' lets them clear, ice won't. The time- when rank could shield crime is over, thank Heaver.,. , Let, them hang as high as,Haman— they deserve it. I'll bo the first to pull the rdpe.' Day by clay, the feeling 'grew stronger and bitterer again&t brother and 'steber. The Englishman's, pvoverbial love -of ' fair play,' seemed for once forgotten. The merciful reasoning of the law, that takes every man to be innocent until he Is proven* guilty, was too lenient; to-b e listehed to. The brother had muidered her—tire sister had aided and abetted. Let them both , hang — that was. the vox populi of Chesholm ;—; — hanging was' too good for them. - ' How did she take her arrest— she was always as proud as Lucifer and as haughty as a duke's daughter ?' asked the curious townfolk. .She had taken it vory quietly, as though she had expected it -/When Lady Helena and Sir Roger had cried out in horror at her arrest, she had stood 'firm. A slight, sad smile had even crossed her lips, ' Dear Aunt Helena— dear Sir Roger,' she had said, ' there's nothing to be surprised at. Don't interfere with this man ; he is only doing his duty. I knew this' would come. I have expected it from- the first. It will be unpleasant for the time — of the result 1 have no fear, , In these day?, when so many guilty escape, it is nofc likely the innocent will be punished. Let me go with this man quietly, Aunh "Helena ; I;' a flush of proud pain passed over her face, ( I don't want the servants— I<don't want the rabble to see me.' ; She held out her hand tocher aunt, and her aunt's old friend. • • ' Good-bye, Aunt Helena,' she said wist? fully. ' Good-bye, Sir Roger. Nothing that they can bring against me will shake I your faith in me; I know. You will both ' ' i come to see me often, I hope, and bring me news of poor Victor. Should — I mean when he recovers— don't tell him of this— don't, I beg. Jt can do no good — it may do him harm. Good-bye once moie— give my love to Uncle Godfrey. Aunt Helena, don't distress yourself so ; I cannot bear it.' 'Do you think I will let you go alone? M,o, I will gro with you to the prison, if these besotted wretches persist in sending you there. Rut, oh, there must be some mistake — it is too atrocious. Sir Roger, can't you do something ? Great Heaven ! the idea of Inez Cacheron being lodged in Chesholm gaol like a common felon !' ' Sir Roger can do -nothing,' Inez answered, ' the law must take its course. Let us end this painful seene — let us go at once.' She shuddered in spite of herself. ' The sooner it is over the better.' " She shook hands again with Sir Roger, A cab was at the door— the old baronet handed the ladies in, and stood bareheaded, until they -were driven oub of sight. They reached the square, gloomy, black building called Chesholm gael, standing in the centre" of a gloomy, paved quadrangle. Miss Catheron was shown to a room.' The gaoler had once been a servant in the Powyss family, and he "pledged himself now to make Miss Inez as comfortable as was admipsible under the eh'cumetances. 1 Once in the dreary room, with the heavy door closed and locked, Lady Helena suddenly fell down on the stone flodr before her niece and held up' her hands! ' Inez,' she said, ♦ in Heaven's name hear me 1 You are shielding someone — that guilty man —you saw him do , this deed. Speak out ! Save yourself -^leb'bn'e guilty suffer. What is he,' that you should' perish' for his sake ? He was "always evil and guilty— forget his blood flows in your veins — speak out and save yourself. Let him who is guilty suffer for his pwn' crime !' The soft September twilight -was filling' the room. One pale flash of sunset came slanting through the grated window and fell on Inez Catheron's face. She stood in the middle of the floor, her clas'psd hands hanging loosely before , her, an iridescrib-'! able expression on her face. « Poor Juan,' she said, wearily ; « don't be too hard oh him, Aunt Helena. We have none of us ever been too gentle with him in his wrong-doing, and he wasn't really bad' at heart then. If any letter should' come I from him to you, for me, say. nothing a.bout I it— bring ib here. I don't think he will be taken ; he can double like a hare, and he is used to being hunted. I hope he "is far away at sea before this. For the rest, I have nothing to say —nothing. I can live disgraced and die a felon if need be, but

not ten thousand disgraceful deaths can make me speak_ one word more than.j choose to utter.' Lady Helena's stifled sobbing filled the room. ' Oh, my child !mv child !' she cried ; * whab^ madness is thfs, and for one so unworthy l\ 1 But there will- be no such tragical ending. I will be tried at the Assizes and acquitted. They can't bring me in guilty. Jane Pool's circmnstancial evidence may sound very conclusive in the ears of Mr Justice Smiley, but it won't bring conviction with a grand jury. You see it waen't sufficient even ''for the' 1 coroner. The imprisonment here will be the worst, but you will lighted that; Then when it is all over, I will leave; England and go back to Spain, to my mother's 1 people. They will receive me gladly, l'know. It is growing dark, Aunt HeleAa— -pray don't linger here longer.' ,<. , r,. Lady Helena arose, her face set in a look tf quiet, stubborn resolve. 'Take"gt)6d care^'of poor Victor, and watch the baby well. He is the last of the Catherons-noV,- you ktiow. < Don't let anyone approach VicboiT' bW Mrs Marsh, and warn her ., not t6~ &psjM pfltny arrest— the shook might-kill' huny-i wfeh— lwishl had treated her more kindJyifr the past;/ * I feel as though I could-^evej^'- forgive myself now.' -, r , ti . *. • ' ' You had better nob, talk so "much, Inez,' her aunt said,,, almost, coldly. 'You may be overheard. " I don't pretend to, understand you. r ' You knew, best, whether he,' for whom you are making 'tins Sacrifice, deserves it or nob. 5 ' Good -night, my 'poor 1 child — 1 will see'you early to-morrow.' Lady Helena, her lips set in that rigid line of resolve, her tears dmed, rode back to Catheron Royals. The darkness had fallen, by this time— fallon with black, fast-drift-ing clouds, and chill, whistling winds. Two or three lights, hore and there, gleamed along the. "lofty fa<;ade of the old mansion, now a house* of mour.ning indeed. Beneath its roof a' foul, dark murder had been done — beneath its roof its master lay ill unto death. And for the guilty wretch who had wrought this ruin, Inez Cathoron was to suffer- imprisonment, suspicion and life-long disgrace.': The curse that the townspeople invoked on Juan Catheron, i Lady Helena Jipd itjn her bearl to echo. Her first act wag to dismiss Jane Pool, the nurse* _ " „ 'We 'keep! servant^, not spies and in*- 1 I 'formers,' ab'Cabheron Royals,' she said, imperiously. 'GO' to Mrs" Mdrsh— what is due you she will pay. You leave Catheron : Royals without: a character, and" at once/ -' I'm not afraid, my lady, Jane Pool retorted, with a toss of her head. • People' will know 1 why.tFm -turned away, and I'll get plenty ot prices.-. I"knew I would lose my situation for telling the truth, but I'm ' not the first that has suffered in a good cause.' Lady Helena Had swept a,way, ainiiie all reply. -Stie ' ascended to Sir icbor's [ room — the night-lamp" buined low, mournful shadows filled -ife. 'A trusty nurse 'sab patiently by the bedside. ; ' How'is he now ?' askefl his aunt', bending ribove him. • ■- - ■*» . 1 Muoh -the same, yqur'lHdyship — in a sorb of- stupor all the ;trme,tto3sing about, and muttering ceaselessly?,. r ..l can't make, out ■anything he says exqqpb'bhe name Ethel. He repeats thab.oyer an4pyerin a way that break's my heart £6 bear-/ T ; The name seemed^to^catch "the dqljed ear of the delirious mart- *;*'* ' 'Ethel, 1 he said'weaHff 'Yea- yes -I must go and fetch Ethel 'home. • Iwish Inez; would go away — her black eyes make one afraid — they follow me everywhere. Ethel — Ethel — Ebhol !', He murmured the name dreamily, tenderly. Suddenly he, halt started ur>in bed and Iqoked abou'b him, wildly. ' Whab' brings Cattierbn's' picture h6fe'? Ethel! come avVay from him, -How dare you meet ' him' here, alone V he grasped' Lady Helena's wrist and looked, at her with haggard, bipod* hot eyes. a ' He. was your lover once •r-how dare he come here.? Oh, Ethel, you ,- won't leave me for him ! I love you — I can't live without you— don't go. Oh, my Ethel ! my Ethel \ my Ethel !' He fell back upon the bed with a sort of gobbing cry that brought the tears streaming from the eyes of the tender-hearted nurse. •"„ ' *■ - ' ' r " 'He -goes on like tliab cbntinuaj, my lady,-' she 'said 'and it's' awful weax-ina-. Always "Ebhol." "Ah, it's a dreadful thing!' • ' ' Hooper- will .watch :ivitk you to-nlghfc,, Martha,' Lady Helena said. ,' Mrs Marsh will relieve you to-morr.qxv. .-x^o ;slranger. 1 shall comeneai; him. I will take a look at bjaby before going horned I sliall return here early' to-morrd\y, and.l'n'eeH rfot tell you to be watchful !*— l know' you wilj. 1 ' ' '■''You neWnV indeed; -tny' ladyj* 'the woman answered, mouraf tflly. '' I was liis m 1m 1 other's own maid, ahd 1 I've nursed him 1 in my arms, a little white-haired baby,, many a time. I will ba watchful, my lady.' Lady Helena left her and ascended to the night nursery. She had to pa3s the room where 1 the tragedy had been enacted. ,She shivered as she went byl She' found the little heir of Catheron Royals asleep in his crib, guarded by the under-nur'se—head-nurse now, vice Mrs Pool, cashiered. 'Take good care of him, 'nurse,' was Lady Helena's last charge, as she stooped and kissed him, tears in her eyes : r pbor little, motherless lamb.! Til guard him with my life,' my lady,' the girl answered, sturdily. 'Np harm shall come to 7wVrc. ' - .--,-., I Lady Helena returned tp jr Po\yyss Place and her convalescent husband, her heart, lying like a stone in her. breast. ' 11 1 hadn'b sent; for Victor that' night— if I had left'hinr'at} Hbme'tb "prtftect liis wife, this might rievfer l fiaVe< Ikppefte-oV^he thought, ,'remQr~Bef»lfyj!T jr H'/w» wojjlia> ih'ever have left her-dlotfe s^nd unprotected to sleep beside an open jvindowan^ the; chjLL night air.' - , t , • *„,-* \ ' % ".."•.- : Amid her multiDljpiby of occuDafcions, I amid her own £reab distress, she, had f.pund. time to'wrife to Mr v bobb arid his wife a' touching, womanly letter. ' They had cDme ' down to see 'their, dead daughter and departed again; •' She had been' taken out of their -'life 1 — raised far above .them", and even in death they would not claim' her. And now that the funeral was over, Inez in prison, the tumult and excitement at an end, who shall describe the awful quiet that fell upon the old house ? A ghastly stillness reigned — servants , k spoke in -whispers, and stole from ro'oni to room— the red shadow of Murder rested in tljefr midst. And upstairs, in that dusk chamber, , while the nights fell, Sir Victor, lay ftpVerihg be-" tween life and death. ' ' " r •'