The Lady in Black.

Tuapeka Times, Volume V, Issue 232, 11 July 1872, Page 9

The Lady in Black.

I (From " Chambers 1 Journal ") j I iftn a retired tradesman, married, and something less than middle-aged. It is needful I should say just so much about myself, and that I live in a pleasant suburb, Shirfield (so called from its being built on what was formerly Sir G-eorge Shirfield's estate), on the outskirts of the town of Dockhampton. Coming home in the last 'bus on a very rainy night of January 1869, I was the only inside passenger, with the exception of a lady in black. It was a j fine steaming ram, like the evening of a washing day — veiy oppressive, warmly moist and miserable; and two of the 'bus windows wei*e loft open to admit the air, such as it was. 'At all events, there being no wind the foggy moisture which came in appeared to me a shade fresher than the sour exhalations from tho damp straw at the bottom of the 'bus. Concluding, however, from repeated coughs of the lady in black, that the draught was objectionable to. her, I offered to close the windows. She gratefully assented in a feeble voice, explaining that a dreadful cold had settled on her lungs. There was no light in the 'bus, but as we rumbled past straggling lamps, the momentary gleams which lit up the darkness just enabled me to distinguish, spite of her thick veil, that the lady was old enough at" least to be my mother, and that her face bore marked traces of suffering. With little retitence, therefore, especially as we had three miles to travel, I addressed to her some commonplaces about the weather and the locality to which we \\ere going. She replied only hv monosyllables ; but I was presently aware, from a4ow fluttering sound proceeding from her corner,' that my companion was sobbing. " I am going home," she said, " where no home is left ; and why Igo there, except to find a corner to die, 1 cannotjjcll. Could you inform me if there is " — she paused and sobbed — "a workhouse in Shirfield?" I told her no ; that we were in the county rate, and the workhouse in connection with our district would be Stonehurst Union. She was very respectably dressed, as we'll as f could see from the occasional glimmers of light which broke in, and I ventured to hope ahe was taking too gloomy a view of her position. This led to longer conversation ; so that before the jourut-y was finished, I had gradually elicited her very painful story, which was something like this. Her ' maiden name, it seemed was Adela Shirfield, only child of Sir George Shirfield, whose estate, nearly forty years ago, has been staked in the betting-ring, and lost. Sir G-eorge utterly ruined, chose suicide in preference to beggary. But bis daughter having a splended contralto voice, came to London, aiid, after many disappointments, succeeded in achieving a great success as an opera-singer nnder a feigned name. Previous to this, however, she had married a man who speculated on her voice turning out a fortune, and who no sooner found his anticipation realised, than he began to lead an idle dissipated life, squandering at the gaming-table his wife's earnings to such a reckless extent, that nowithstanding their large income, she and her husband lived a life of perpetual debt and difficulty. 111-usage and blows were the vwfc's frequent portion, until at last s'ie obtained a judicial separation from her husband. Then her voice began to go — rest and travel utterly failed to restore its quality. She was relegated to concert-singing: and thence to the music-hall, where. for some years she had lived on a past reputation, being retained merely on sufferance. Finall v, .hers came a time when the kindest manager could no longer kee.p her. Sickness exhansted her last small savings ; and now, a woman of nearly sixty, she had that day spent her r lasfc half-sovereign in a third-class ticket to bring her to the place where she -was born, that, if possible, she might die there. Her story certainly 'excited my pity, the more so for feeling how cruel a sight the daylight had in stora for her,' villa residences and suburban streets covering every bit of tlie old estate, and not a vestige of her old home left, nor a soul to know her. I should have offered a trifle of money, but feared to givg offence, for it was plain to me that she was a lady. When the 'bus stopped at tbe Sir G-eorge's Arms, I offered my hand to assist her to alight. It was well- I did so, for she fainted on the step. With the help of the landlord, we carried her into the inn, and gave her brandy. On. recovering a little, she owned with i reluctance it was weakness — that she had tasted no food that day. T there- | fore ordered her some' tea, and, without waiting for thanks, walked to my home. 1 Had I then mentioned to my wife just what I have written down, it would have saved 'me a good deal -both in money and annoyance. But finding . friends at home, pleasant conversation soon drove an adventui*) so ordinary as the assistance of a person- in distres.3 i quite out of nay head, and next day it scarcely seemed worth the telling. A week afterwards I received a nbte in a man's" handwriting, stating that " a gentleman " wished to see me at the Sir George's Arms. On goingthere, I was shewn into, a private room

with something like a suppressed titter j on the part of the landlord, and there j j I saw — [he lady in black. She admitj ted having written the letter, and dis j j guised her handwriting, justifying her conduct on the ground that my wife ! might otherwise suspect me of carrying j on an intrigue. The idea was certainly ridiculous,, for, in addition to the woman's gray hairs, her features were anything but well favoured, to say nothing of two. great scar-marks across her forehead — witnesses, she said, to her husband's ' brutality. Her object, it appeared, in desiring to see me was merely to convey her thanks for what she called my very great kindness, and, i dicl-I know of a situation as a.housekeeper or any position of trust which she could undertake ? I did not. '"You evidently mistrust my story," she went on. "If I wore an impostor, I should be ready enough with proofs of my identity ; I have nothing, as it is, but two old torn letters from my father, written to me when a schoolgirl." These she produced, very yellow and worn.. They did not look 'like forgeries (I had formerly seen specimens of Sir G-eorge Shirfield's handwriting), but I regarded them with some suspicion after the note she had sent me. There was a piano in the room. I remarked that, with her musical abilities, there could be no doubfc she could play. She immediately seaied herself at the piano., and having played a great part of the overture to Anna.Bolena magnificently, began the accompaniment to the Lute Song, when/after making one effort to sing it, she broke out crying, and closed the 'instrument. That her voice was irretrievably gone, there could be no mistake. I confess I believed her story — ths more readily as she confirmed her experiences (operatic and otherwise) by man}' anecdotes .and details of persons and places with some of which I was familiar. However. I was unable to recommend lier any situation. She did not beg of me, rather to my surprise, as I took my leave, wondering in my mind how she, if penniless, as had been stated, could afford to remain at the hotel. The reason I refrained from detailing the whole circumstances to my wife when I got home, was a silly one. I reflected, that- when I came to exolain that the note sent me was not, as it purported to be, written by a gentleman, but by a woman, and that it was a woman I went to meet at the George's Anns, the whole affair would appear involved in a certain amount of suspicion, which would require a deal more explaining. At any rate, I thought the "simplest course was to hold my tongue. 1 should have done this strictly, but my wife had previously seen the note, and to her casual inquiry as to who the (t gentleman" was, I foolishly replied with the first fib that 'came tohnnd. Some days afterwards, I met the landlord of the "Sir George's Arms" in the street. He said there was a bill of eight-and-twenty shillings owing by me on account of board and lodging for the lady in black. It appeared she had represented me as a very old friend " of years gone by," who was willing to pay her hotel bill. The landlord had at first doubted this, until, on my immediately coming on receipt of a note, and spending an hour in her company while she played the piano, it soems he had believed me to have reasons of my o\\r\ for wishing my acquaintance kept secret— had trustedher, and allowed her to go away on the understanding I was to pay her bill! I paid it, not wishing my folly to become tap-room talk— but honestly told the landlord the facts "of the case, denouncing his late lodger as an impostor. The fact of my paying the bill, however, only served to con&rm the man's suspicions. I felt that now there -was far too much to tell my wife : the fainting lady — taking her to an inn — receiving a note from her under false colours, then telling a fib about that note myself — visiting her at the hotel to bear her play — and finally paying her bill. The lady in blaok might be as old as Methuselah, but it would appear suspicious for all that ; and not caring to arouse suspicions difficult to allay without the production of the lady in black herself, I was silent. Two months passed. Then I received a note" as follows, dated from an entirely different part of the town. Galton Villa, Burstham Eoad. Sic, — I am desired by my father, •Major Lindsay, who has recently returned from India, to say that he intended calling on yon, but is prevented by illness, and therefore begs you will be good enough to come and see him at about eleven o'clock to-morrow morning, at the temporary lodgings as above. — Yours, &c. Mabia Lindsay. I say T received this note. Ft was, in fact, my wife who opened it. — Did I know Major Lindsay? No. It was just possible that he might be a former customer, who had purscbased some of , the commodities I used to send to an agent in Bombay — and I said so, although I had no moral doubt it was from- the lady in black. At (ivst, T thought, of making a clean breast of it, and getting my wife to call at Galton Villa. But, if I did so, I reflected there was no knowing what plausible tale this very accomplished personage in black might-invent to the injuiy of.

my character-; and again, the nobe ' might not be from her after all. I went. Galton Villa is a largo and respectable 1 house iv Barnham. Road. Tho family, ib appears, was away, aud the lady in black had obtained admission there through acquaintance .wilb the servants, for whom she was doing a little needlework, and had cajoled them infco giving her permission to meet a gentleman for a few minutes in , the dining-room of the. house on thi^ identical morning. This the lady in black told me with great coolness — proceeding to assure me that pressing peed was her only excuse for imposing on me in the matter .of the hotel bill, and that self-preservation is a great instinct of nature, insomuch as a drowning man will save himself at the expense of throttling a swimmer. It appeared she wanted some money, which I gave her, glad enough to escape from a house in which I felt I had no business. Of course, this only added one moi'o to the many suspicious elements I was now anxious to keep to myself. The particular fib by which I exp^incd it to my wife I really forgot — there were so many to follow — but I felt that Iruth was no longer possible to me in the matter except the whole truth, which had now become far too involved to make a respectable appearance. It is needless to describe the notes — some half-dozen — which followed, each requesting an appointment at a different place ; or to tell how, after fibbing so much, I feared to evade a summons from this miserable impostor in black lest a woman so skilful in intrigue as she proved herself to be, might combine truth and falsehood too deftly for the peace of my home. She called herself by many names, but was generally known to me as Mrs. George. Her messengers were selected with remarkable skill. Now it was a soldier who had served with, my brother in the Bengal army, «nnt' brought a request that- 1 would call in the eveniugj now a tradesman about an account ; and ouee it was a parson, who was himself deceived, and told me the note which he brought had been dolivered to him by a sick woman t who prayed him to give it into my hands, and to say that an old school-fellow of my mother's desired to see me before she died. It was evident that this lady in black had devoted a great deal of her time in making inquiries about my previous life and circumstances, in order to use them in such a way as to make me an "accomplice in a clandestine correspondence resulting in interviews. One evening, visiting at the house of a married friend, a much older man j than myself, I told him my whole case. To my utter astonishment, he was groaning under the same affliction. This same lady in black had accosted him one "night, asking to be shewn the way to a cortain road. Seeing her to be an old woman, well spoken, and apparently in trouble, he had no scruple in accompanying her, so far as bis road Lay, on her way.. At the door of an inn, she had fainted, and the same plot as mine was gone through almost identical iv its particulars. He admitted having fibbed to his wife about it, even more than I had to mine, and was really more frightened at exposure, since bis age approached mo-e nearly that of the lady in black than mine did. He was far too terrified to suggest a remedy. So far, our interview was fruitless ; but . I admit the knowledge of some one else been swindled in the same way gave me more courage to look tho matter in tho face. The very next night, as I was sitting in my room expecting a visitor to smoke a pipe with me, there was a knock at my door. Thinking it was my young friend I expected, I opened the door myself. A figure, so muffled up in black that it would bo impossible to tell whether it was man or woman, thrust a note into my hand and instantly disappeared. It was a long note — four pages, and partly crossed. Although undoubtedly the production of Mrs. G-eorge, it is professed, to be written by Maria Williamson. It was only by importing a second and fictitious woman into the correspondence, that the sting at the commencement of the letter could be sharpened : My deau Sib, — Having for some time unavoidably become acquainted with the fact of \our repeated private interviews with Mrs. G-eorge, \, write this to assure you that you may depend .on my keeping what I know an «v violable secret ; &c. The rest of the note referred to my 'dfar friend's' illness and destitution — stated that she had not received her ' customary present' from me for a long time — and urged me to go and see her at a new address, which was given, at 'ele\ea. o'clock to-morrow. | After eleven months' patient submission to the woman in black's extortion, and living all that time in the knowledge of deceiving my wife about notes continually received, it seems strange that I ever dared to rebel ► against the yoke. I can't tell how it was it occurred to me at bast to take the step which I can't tell how it was it never occurred' to Die to take before. I took my last letter to tho superintendent of police.' Could he help me? I asked it really in fear and trembling. Would he reply to the letter for me? Would he do .any thing to get ' me out of he scrape? ■ . .

Our superintendent of police — an immense man — a giant six foot four in his acockings — looked down on mo wii,h ineffable contempt. " Well," he said. " I'm surprised at you : thafc'l am. If flats like you don'i go and undo all the good the police does ! How can you go and encourage these people? Why she's been fifteen years in Australia: and tho two months you didn't havo a letter from her, she was in Portsmouth gaol for pocket-picking. I know at about her, and have 'wanted' her for these six months, for stealing property from Galton Villa, where you wore fool enough to meet her; and very lucky that I know all about it, or she might swear .you were an accomplice. However, two of our men will answer your letter tomorrow at eleven o'clock punctual." - The lady in black, it appears Jiadiesn a lady after all ; and a part of her story was true. She had been a singer, though not of such high class as she pretended ; and she was, not a daughter, but a distant relation of Sir George Shirfield.