THE MYSTERY OF THE MOATED-SCHLOSS.

Tuapeka Times, Volume II, Issue 73, 3 July 1869, Page 5

THE MYSTERY OF THE MOATED-SCHLOSS.

" > (From " All the Year Round.")

IN FIVE CHAPTERS. — CHAPTER V.

" It is all over now, my Magda — the mystery of our moated schloss — the hope and despair of my life, which 1 dared not confide to thee ; it is all over now. I can tell thee everything. . . . Why did I beseech thee to come here? What end was there to be gained by this? Listen. It is a sad enough story, which has embittered all my life, and the effects of which, in some sort, I shall carry to my grave. " Thou hast heard of poor Louise ? She was my only sister, my senior by five years, and my mother's favourite, who doated on this daughter with an intensity which blinded her to every other object, and made her regard even me — strange as it may seem — in the light of an interloper, whose coming to divide the inheritance with her firsttorn was any injury and a wrong. My father, on the other hand, was very fond of me ; but he died when I was nine ; and for many years there was only Louise's sweet nature and her love for me to counteract the coldness and neglect of my poor partial mother. -God knows I never resented this. . . . I never ceased to love her; a kind word from her at any time made me as happy as a king .... and I know now that even at that time, poor soul, her brain was in a measure diseased, and she was suffering under the chronic monomania which afterwards assumed an acute form.

" My sister occupied the tower where you slept last night ; her sitting-room below, her bedroom above. A panel behind the arras, and a winding stair cut in the thickness of the wall, lead from these rooms to those which my mother inhabited. Thus she could visit her favourite child at all hours of the day and night without traversing the long corridor and public stair ; and of this privilege she availed herself so constantly that I never knew her to come to Louise's room by any other way. " One evening, when I was about fifteen, I was in this room, plaguing my sister while she was dressing, by performing all manner of gymnastic feats, of which I was very proud, but which only alarmed her. At last, I bethought me of a water-pipe outside the window, and down which I thought it would be good sport to slide. Before Louise saw what I was about, I sprang on to the window-sill, and, clinging hold of the mullion with one hand, sought the pipe with the other, and tried to fasten my feet around it. The operation was. not an easy or rapid one, and before it was accomplished Louise, with a shriek of terror, had flown to the window, and was endeavouring to hold me back. But it was in vain her fragile fingers clutched me ; I was resolved to succeed in my attempt ; and now indeed I felt my feet were fastened round the pipe securely. Closer and closer I drew myself towards it, and further from the window, until, at last, I let go the mullion. " Then, it was that my poor sister, in i net nervous terror, beni her whole i body out of the window, and, stretching forth both hands, she lost her balance, and, fell, with one wild scream, into the moat below ! " Never, if I were to live a thousand years, can I forget that moment ! How it was. I managed to slide down the pipe, t scarcely know, now. I can just remember catching Bight of my mother's awful face, and hearing her shrieks at the window ; the next minute I was in the water, and striking out in the direction of something that floated near me. "Half a dozen mejj were in the moat as soon as I was, and between them she was quickly brought to the shore, and laid upon the bank; but alas ! the truth was evident at a glance; there could be no doubt about it ; she was dead. She had struck her head in falling, and death had mercifully been instantaneous. Would to Q-od it had come to my poor afflicted mother! .... She had entered that room by the panelled door, at the very moment Louise lost her balance and fell ; and she lost her reason from that hour. It was Hanne who held her back when she wauld have thrown herself out after her idolised child. It was Hanne who again held her back when she rushed at me with an open knife. The dislike in which she had always held me was now fomented to positive hatred. She. regarded me as. the wilful murderer of Louise, and the mere mention of my name was enough to bring on a paroxyism of mania. The doctor decided at once that she must never be permitted to see me. I was sent away to college, and when, at rare i intervals, I returned here, my presence never failed to rouse her out of her j habitual condition of quiet harmless melancholy into one of ungovernable fury, Thus, for years past, I have never been able to set my foot within these walls. The world has long believed my mother to be dead; the poor faithful servants here alone have tended and guarded their old mistress, peeing that she came to no harm, and keeping me regularly informed of the state of her health. She never left the schloss, but wandered to and from Louise's room, by day and night, folding and unfolding her child's clothes, looking at her books in a vacant way, and careful that every little article

that had belonged to her should be kept in the very place where Louise left it. The servants told me that she never spoke of Louise as dead j she was always looking for her return. . . " When I came to man's estate, my first object was to consult, either personally or by letter, all the most eminent surgeons in Europe who have devoted themselves to the study of insanity, as to my hapless mother's condition. There were Beveral consultations, but , little comfort came of them. All agreed, indeed, that such a condition was not absolutely hopeless. Cases had been known when, by powerfully affecting the heart upon the one subject which had caused madness, the brain had regained its equilibrium. But such cases were rare, and how, in my mother's case, was this end to be compassed ? At last Dr. , a man full of original experiments, said to me : Find, if you can, some girl who closely resembles what your sister was. . . . Introduce her into the schloss, as nearly as possible under the same circumstances as your sister . . . see what that will do. ... It may open the sluices of all the poorilady's tender maternal feelings, and thus work a cure. Any way, it can do no harm. I will answer for it, she will not dislike or try to harm the girl.' . . .

" To comprehend my -intense anxiety on this subject, Magda, and the earnest longing wherewith I set about my search, thou must try and enter into my feelings during all these years. Not alone had I been the cause of my poor Louise's death, but also of this enduring and yet more frightful calamity, whereby my mother and I were living on in the world as strangers to each other. ... It is hardly too much to say that my whole life was embittered by remorse. ... To feel her hand laid upon my head, to hear her say that she forgave me — this was the dearest hope I then had. ... " For many years my search was fruitless. I found fair-haired and gentle girls in abundance, but whenever I tried to trace the desired resemblance, it failed ; either voice, or face, or manner, or the soul within, was utterly unlike Louise's. It is rare, after all, to find two human beings cast in moulds that are at all similar. . . . But, at length, my Magda, I found thee ; and in thee, to my great joy, a living image of our lost Louise. . . . Shall I tell thee the truth? I had little thought of love or marriage at first. Thy father was poor; I was willing to sacrifice two-thirds of" my fortune to the accomplishment of my scheme j with that intention I sought thee. . . . But when I came to know thee, my treasure — ah ! then it was different. When I came to see thee in thy quiet home, to note thy tender modest graces, Love found me out and conquered me. I thought, if thou wouldst consent to be my wife, here was the true solution of the difficulty. ... and whether that scheme sueS ceeded or failed, in thee I should, at i all events, find a joy and peace that [ had long been absent from my soul. |It has been so — it is so, my darling ! The good G-od has seen fit to take my mother — has not seen fit to bless my original scheme. But he will bless what has grown out of it, that I know. " I thought it best to conceal the truth from thee. When I brought thee and left thee here alone, it could but have added to thy; alarms at first to know of an insane woman's presence in this dreary place, and of the part thou were called upon to play. Tho wouldst leern it all, naturally, in the course of a day or two ; but by that time some change might have been wrought in her condition. Of course I felt dreadfully anxious, yet I knew there was no danger to be apprehended Hanne has told me everything. Erom her window, my poor mother saw thee alight, and her eye kindled as she watched thee. All the evening she was strangely agitated, as they had not known her to be for years. By-and-by, on the bridge, she again watched thee stealthily; but could not repress a scream when the mantle fell over the parapet — it looked (Hanne says) from the window like a a body falling into the water ! Her excitement increased as night advanced; yet it* seemed as though she doubted, and would test thy identity before approaching thee openly. Instead of going to Louise's room, as usual, every evening, she waited till night was fully come, when she stole up (followed by Hanne), and stood behind the arras, watching thee until thou wert asleep. Then she came forth, 'i and touched thy clothes — the clothes had been Louise's — and approached the bed. softly, and looking tenderly upon thee. It was strange, Hanne says to see the working of her face, and hear he? muttered words, until bending lower .aud lower, she touched thee with her lips, and whispered * Louise !'

"This was the crisis. . . . How it might have ended, God knows! but for thy natural terror, my poor child, which made thee spring from the bed and rush screaming towards the window. "No doubt, in the horror of the moment, it seemed to her, poor soul ! that the old tragedy was being reenacted — the scene whereon her mind had dwelt for twenty years rose up before her, and the main-spring of life, long worn, suddenly snapped. "With a great cry, she fell back upon .the bed, and died, almost instantaneously, I believe. . s .

" Peace be with her ! God's decrees are' wise, and in denying our prayers, He sometimes grants to us a yet better thing for our consolation," said the young graf in conclusion, as he pressed his wife to his heart.

[the end].