THE NOVELIST

Observer, Volume 2, Issue 37, 28 May 1881, Page 401

THE NOVELIST

MANSLAUGHTER.

CHAPTER 111.

"IT WAS MY OWN UNCLE." To both Jo3m Banton and his wife that Sundaywas a day of restless torment ; they wandered aimlessly about the house and through the garden, alike unable to sit still or leave their home with any definite object in view. And. as the day had found them unable to eat, so the night failed to bring them repose. Mrs. Banton passed through the usual hours of rest in a nervous tremor, that left her in the morning pale, haggard, and full of harassing fears ; while her husband, notwithstanding the terrible bodily fatigues of the previous night, tossed uneasily upon his bed, tormented by a thousand conflicting and equally distressing thoughts. To his mind, the idea of touching the few pounds rattling in the pocket of the dead man had been as revolting as any possible combination of horrors ; but when, in the quite of the succeeding night, he began to consider what should be done with the thousands, quiet other impressions presented themselves to his view. Who could claim the money? How might he restore it to its rightful owner, even if lie could be found? Did such an owner exist ? Failing the discovery of such an owner, why should not part of the money, in the shape of a temporary loan, serve to help him out of some of his pressing difficulties? Would it be wrong to use the money ? Was it worse to employ part, at any rate, of it to ease his pressing wants, or allow it to remain icily lying where he had carefully placed it away ? He rose in the morning feverish and wan of countenance, with a devil at his heart prompt-

ing him to take a part at least of the money for the time being, and to replace it so soon as the fortune of his own business should turn in the right direction. A second night, almost equally lacking in repose, resolved him in what he deemed the right course to pursue. Ere he started for his office upon the Tuesday morniog, his wife stopped him in the hall. 'John,' she said, 'yesterdoy was the most awful trial I have ever endured in my life. I cannot — no, I really cannot — stop another day alone in this house- I should go mad.'

He kissed her gently as lie replied : ' I told you this week, I hoped, would bring me better luck. Yesterday I foundthe means of providing some ready money ; it is all right again. Find a servant as soon as you can, but meantime get someone in from the village to do the work and keep yon from being alone.' From this moment the domestic aft'airs of the household resumed somewhat of their wonted course. A temporary assistant was easily found, nor was a permanent servant more difficult of acquisition ; and the necessary money being provided, the painfully rigid, system of domestic economy, which had become a temporary necessity, was abandoned. Banton was, however, becoming nervous, fretful, restless, and terribly depressed — effects probably produced by the worries of his business, combined with'the horrid remembrances lie could not for a moment banish, from his tortured thoughts. His wife, always of delicate mould and high-wrought nervous temperament, grew wan and far thinner than she had ever before appeared, while every sudden sound caused her to start with tremors and fears of intangible ills. The hideous Saturday night was never once, in the most distant manner, alluded to by either of them, but its horrors were none the less ever present to their minds, in painful thoughts by day, and terribly ghastly dreams by night. It

would, indeed, have been much to their menta comfort had they freely discussed the event instead of keeping the carking remembrance fresh in the secrecy of their thoughts. A week passed away, and Saturday again came round : a clear, bright morning, fresh and balmy, such as only an English September can produce, when the heat of summer is replaced by the calm softness of early autumn's genial airs, and the garish tints of richest greenery and all the gayest tones of the blossoms have given way to the mellow tints of tree and shrub, and the softened richness of the flowers that bloom at this season.

After breakfast, when her husband had started for his daily occupation, Mrs. Banton strolled into the garden and idly paced its trim walks, her mind even dwelling upon the allabsorbing topic that was destined to be so notable a landmark in her life. Her eyes were fixed gloomily upon the ground as she paced along, apparently lost in reveries, but actually most fully alive to every outward sound. A sudden opening of the garden gate, and the crackling of a heavy tread upon the crisp gravel, made her turn with a start, her mind instantly filled with vague apprehensions and painful misgiving. To her unspeakable terror, she found herself face to face with the burly form of a tall policeman. A half-stifled scream escaped her lips, and her face became instantly of ashy paleness, as an almost irresistible impulse to turn aud fly from the spot took possession of her mind.

The man politely touched his hat, and bagged her pardon, Avhile he fumbled amongst a bundle of papers which he held in his hand.

'Ah,' thought the unhappy Avoman, 'it is discovered. Let me find courage to face the worst.'

' What is it ?' she asked, in a feeble A r oice that ill accorded with the courage which was actuating her. 'Beg your pardon, ma'am,' said the policeman, producing a long folded paper, and handing it to her. 'Mr. Banton.' With trembling fingers she took the paper, when the man touched his hat and instantly turned upon his heel. How her heart beat as she almost flew up the steps, and rushed to_ the seclusion of her oavii room ! Full of the direst apprehensions, she hardly dared unfold the large Avhite sheet, but screAving herself up to the proper resolution, and determined to know the Avorst at once, she opened the paper, and, oh bathos ! found it merely related to an election of guardians of the poor.

The reaction Avas more than her unstrung nerves could bear. The paper fell from her grasp, while first a laugh and then a scream escaped her lips — tAVO nervous demonstrations which were followed by copious streams of scalding tears. Heaving her scream, the servant from below came at once to in\ r estigate the cause ; but, although she was able to administer some sort of comfort, it A\ r as long before she could soothe her mistress's state of hysterical distress.

'Poor dear,' said the sympathetic "woman ■when at length she retreated to her proper domain, 'she do seem overdone, what with one thing and another.' One more "week passed away, when Saturday, the day which seemed to he destined to come laden with new terrors connected, witli the terrible tragedy, again arrived. Another seven days had served in no way to ease the mind of either husband or wife, who Avere both still full of the same needless terrors. No mention had been made to Ban ton of the terrifying incident of the policeman, for his wife justly considered his mind as already sufficiently laden Avith cares and troubles, and she saw no reason for adding to his mental worry by heaping upon him the thoughts Avhich had distressed herself. Just before dinner, they Avere strolling in the garden, when the servant came to say that the landlord of the house Avhished to see Mr. Banton.

' Ask him to come out into the garden, ' said Banton ; then he added to his "wife, ' I wonder what he wants ? — the rent is not yet due.'

In a moment the landlord, a small builder of the neighbourhood' appeared, before them.

' Good evening sir, he said. ' I thought, as I was passing, I'd just look in to tell you I shall have the new house, down in Park Street, comfortably ready for occupation about the time you will be leaving this. If you should think of remaining in the neighbourhood, I don't think you -would find ' ' What on earth do you mean V asked Banton, laughing at what lie considered must be some amusing blunder. ' I have no idea of moving.' But now the landlord seemed himself somewhat surprised

' Don't you sir ?' he asked, laughing himself. ' But, surely, you know the house is coming down ? They'll offer you some compensatinn, of course, for leaving, but '

' House coming down !' repeated Banton, aghast at the horrid possibility of discovery the words presented ' I really don't understand what you are alluding to.' ' Why, haven't you heard, sir ? it's the talk of the place.' Banton shuddered. 'The cutting for the new line will run just across here, and, of course, the house must come down.'

'Ah, to be sure, now I remember,' said Banton as calmly as he was able ; ' I have heard the thiug spoken of, and I'm much obliged to you for mentioning it. Good evening.' The landlord beat a hasty reteat after this curt dismissal, not by any means impressed with the amoimt of politeness his tenant had extended to him.

Banton hurried indoors, and threw himself into a chair.

' Do you see what that means, Jane?' he said in an irritated tone, which was quite a new development. 'If they cut through here, the — thing in the stable will be unearthed, and then

His wife came over beside Mm, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. 'John,' she said softly, ' I think, after that awful night, I could do anything. We must remove it.' He looked up with a start, and his wife was struck by an expression in his eyes which had never been there before. Was all this trouble telling upon his brain ? He gave a short laugh, but made no further remark, burying his head in his hands and

sitting immovable until dinner Avas announced. The meal Avas a perfect farce ; neither could eat, and they were both unable to converse. Banton drank a great deal of sherry, and, before the cheese Avas upon the table, got up and retreated to the drawing-room, where he stretched himself upon a sofa, and lay lost in the bitterness of his own reflections, his eyes immovably fixed upon one spot, in a soulless stare. Here he remained until bed-time arrived, when he saw before him nothing but a night of sleepless distress. Tavo more long weary Aveeks dragged themselves sloAvly by, but they brought no sort of relief to the tortured mind of either Banton or his Avife. They were both paler, thinner, more nervous, greatly in Avant of the bracing effect of relaxation and change. After a night of distressing restlessness, equally painful to both of them, Banton announced to his Avife, one morning at breakfast, that he proposed to go aAvay to the sea-side for a change. The question of the exact course of the neAV raihvay was not yet definitely decided, but the destruction of their house Avas confidently relied upon. The ground had all been surveyed, and they noAV aAvaited only definite notice.

'A week at Ramsgate will do us both good,' he said ; 'I'm sure you need it badly enough, Jane, and as forme, it is an absolute necessity.' ' I am sincerely glad to hear that you can manage it, dear,' returned Mrs. Banton. 'I have stood up as long as I possibly coiild, hoping not to be compelled to give away, but I am beginning to despair of my ability to hold out longer. ' 'We will start on Saturday, then,' he said ; ' and I hope we shall come back more able to keep up than either of us is at present. ' The very prospect of this holiday, which would give a brief change from the perpetual presence of the hideous associations they had been hitherto afraid to leave, brought something like appetite to both of them, and even cheerfulness. Breakfast that morning was a brighter and better meal than the house had known for many a week. And when Banton went forth from his door, there was a smile upon his lips and something of his old elasticity in his step. But at the very moment a grim spectre Avas tracking his footsteps ; something neither he nor any one else could have suspected ; but it was there, nevertheless, rapidly descending upon him. As he strolled up the quiet road, he opened his morning paper and commenced a desultory persual. Almost the first word Avhich caught his eye, however, was his own name in large type. His interest Avas immediately aroused, then his ■wonder, and finally consternation. He stood momentarily still, to peruse the feAV words that were so full AA'ith ominous import.

'Plantagenet B anton. — Notice is hereby given, that if the boxes bearing the above name, left on board the "Conway Castle" on her discharging at the Docks upon the — ult., are not removed within one month, they will be sold, with their contents, to defray cost of rent and other charges.' The name and adress of some well-known shipping- agents followed. Banton read the notice over and over again before the real import of the words struck his mind ; then he tore the paper into a multitude of shreads, and scattered them upon the roadway. ' She must never know this,' lie said, ' she has suffered enough already ; she must never again guess at the real fact. It was my own uncle — oh, God of heaven forgive me, it was my own uncle !'

(To be continued. )