QUEER STORIES.

Observer, Volume IV, Issue 84, 22 April 1882, Page 88

QUEER STORIES.

A GUILTY CONSCIENCE

By A Lady,

Seventeen years ago O was a busier place than it is now. Its people were busy and thriving, and not as now, sleepy, and were well known for their gossiping propensities. On a little rising was built a miserable little house, in strange contrast to the Avell-cultivated paddocks and fine healthy cattle. The owner of this farm, Edward Johnson, when he first settled i n 0 , was looked upon with not a little curiosity. He made no friends, and only spoke to Ms neighbours when it was necessary. His manners were quite different from those about him. They, in that spirit which clings to those ■who hare just come from the " old country," would have liked to be friendly, but his manner repelled them ; and soon they ceased to wonder about him. He engaged a man to help him, and, in a few years, there was not a farm like his for miles around. His crops were always plentiful, none of his cows died — in fact everything prospered with him — and he was said to be very rich. To the astonishment of the inhabitants of O , Mr Johnson began to build a very comfortable and spacious house, and to lay out a flower garden. For his wife, of course, the neighbours said, and their wonder was again aroused. Before everything was quite finished, Mr Johnson went home to England to bring out his wife — so his man-servant, Joe Smith, gave out, leaving him in charge of the place. Everyone believed it, as there was no way of knowing anything to the contrary. A year passed away ; and one night Johnson's nearest neighbour was coming home about 7 o'clock with his cart and horse, when he saw Johnson sitting upon his fence. "Holloa, Mr Johnson," he called out; "so you've come back. Grlad to see ye. Hope — " Before the honest farmer could finish, the man had disappeared from the fence. "He might have shook hands with an old neighbour, but he was always proud-like," thought Mr Acton, as his old brown mave jogged on to his own gate. " Say, Mary, Johnson, o' the Pine Farm, has come home. I seen him down the road ; but •when I spoke to him, he jumped off the fence, as if he did not want the likes o' me." Two or three people saw the owner of Pine Farm, just as old Acton had, and they began to think it strange. Some said his girl had thrown him over, while others declared it was just his way, when one glorious summer evening a young lady came up the road and stood looking at Acton's farm, as if uncertain what to do. She had the air of a lady, uumistakably, and was attired in some soft grey material, and in her hand she carried a bag. She made up her mind at last, opened the gate, and came up the path. The door was opened by the worthy woman herself. "Can you tell me which is Mr Johnson's farm ? I think I must have lo3t my way, being a stranger," said a sweet, gentle voice, in perfect keeping with the dainty figure. " It is the next place, mis 3 ; but won't you come in a sit down and rest awhile. You look tired, and its been so hot to-day." " Thank you ; I will not stay, as it is such a short distance." " She had such a sweet smile," said Mrs Acton to her husband after the lady had gone ; " but I wonder what she wants at Johnson's. She looks as if she had just come from the 'old country.'" An hour after, another knock came to the door, which was answered by the farmer himself, who declared afterwards he was never so scared in his life ; for upon the threshold stood a girl with a white face and frightened eyes. At her husband's exclamation, Mrs Acton came out, and to her the girl addressed herself. "Do you know where Mr Johnson is ? I have knocked at the door, and there appears to be no one in the house ; and the two front rooms look as if they had not been used for months. What can it mean ?" And there was a sob in her voice. " I expect he has gone to town, but you come in and rest and have some tea with us," said kind, motherly, Mrs Acton; and truly thankful, she was led into a warm, comfortable, | room, with a well-spread tea-table. j " You are very kind, but I will first tell you my name. I am Helen Clifford, and have just come out from England to be married to Mr Johnson." Her host and hostess looked at one another in amazement, but said nothing, and Miss Clifford was soon sitting at the tea-table and talking about her home in England quite gaily.' The weary lines left her face, and she appeared as she was — a truly charming girl. After tea, however, she asked the. farmer what time Mr Johnston would come home. " Well, I'll go and see if he's come, and if he hasn't,, why he won't be to-night ; " and, seeing her start, he went on with " he's bin strange ever Bince his trip to England." " I don't quite understand you, Mr Acton," and he grew frightened at that still figure and white face. "He went, home to flic " old country about a year ago to bring out his wife, so Joe (his man) told us. But he never did anything of the sort, and he's not been seen much since." "O\ I don't understand it, at all," she cried, getting up, and walking about excitedly, "It is just a year since I heard from him, and then he wrote to say that he had a home for me, and that I had better make arrangements to come out to New Zealand, but to wait for his next letter. It never came, though I waited three months, and so I came on my own responsibility. I wrote to say that I was in Auckland, and came out here to find nothing but disappointment," and she burst into tears. Mrs Acton calmed poor Helen with words of encouragement while her husband went to see if the cause of this trouble had come yet. But it was of no use, there was no light about the place, and no answer to Ms repeated knocking. On his return his wife slipped out, and it was agreed between them that Helen should stay -with, them all night. IS exVjmlornjng the farmer, with some neighbours^ Mfy^pm. he confided Ms suspicion that something hiid happened to Mr Johnson, searched

the Pine Farm. The man-servant was addicted to drinking, and was often away on the " spree," so his absence was not remarked. The whole house, outbuildings, and every nook and possible place was searched with no result. At last Mr Acton thought of the fence where he had seen Johnson sit, and they all went to the spot. Near it they found an old well covered with boards, the ground being disturbed about it. Arrangements were made for going down, as it appeared to have little water in it, and all that remained of Edward Johnson was brought to the light of day. The neighbours thought he had committed suicide, and so the body was taken to the village for an inquest. Joe Smith affected great surprise when he was told about the finding of the body, but whan he was interrogated by a policeman he said, " I didn't do it." As no one ever dreamed of accusing him, suspicion fell upon him, and one man said flatly, " Then you just did do it." He was arrested, and when he saw all against him, he confessed his crime. One night he was going out on an errand in the village when he had occasion to turn back for something. He returned quietly, for he thought Mr Johnson had gone to bed, as he complained of feeling ill. It was about half -past eight o'clock. Looking in at the door of his master's bedroom which was ajar, he saw him counting a large pile of money. The demon of avarice got into this man's heart ; and, with a thick stick he carried, he went in and gave the poor man a heavy blow on the head. He then dragged the body down to the well, which was pretty full then, and he supposed Mr Johnson was drowned. The dead man had endeavoured to make the murder known by his apparition on the fence. Poor Miss Clifford, her situation was indeed sad ! Alone in a strange land, and her coming to it attended with such a strange, sad event. No wonder her energies gave way, and for many weeks she was laid up in kind Mr 3 Acton's house. When she was able to get about, she sent for a brother who came oiit, and they took possession of the farm as a will had been found leaving it to Helen Clifford.