NOVELIST.

Waipawa Mail, Volume I, Issue 11, 19 October 1878, Page 1 (Supplement)

NOVELIST.

THE

MY FRIENDS STORY

My old schoolfellow, Anne, was on a visit to us, and having been long an invalid was allowed to do pretty much as she liked, and was never pressed to take j»art in any of our fireside games. From a light-hearted, frolicsome girl, she had become strangely sedate and silent. One night, after a round game of cards in the drawingroom, 1 went to seek her, and found

her in her bed-room, looking through the (»anes into the dark night. She | started as I opened the door, and said, “Is that you, dear? Come and sit by the fire ! ” I chided her on her continued melancholy, when she replied—- “ I dare say you all tliink me a very thankless guest, but sit there and you shall hear my story. You have heard that I received a sudden shock, which was the origin of my long illness. I have the greatest horror in approaching the subject, for I seem to live the dreadful sceue over again ; but you, darling, have always my confidante , ami perhaps I shall feel it a relief to talk to you. You know, I spent the last winter with mamma, at cousin .Mortimer’s seat—you know where. Mortimer, or rather Baron Mortimer, is the only child of mamma’s only brother; and his own mother l>eingdead, mamma has long been virtually mistress of his house—for lie is the most delightfully handsome, but provokingly lazy fellow, anybody ever saw. I think you told me you met him at Lord Huntley’s in the autumn—did you ever see such a splendid fellow, or such a handsome Saxon face as his ? Well, he wanted to fill his house for the election, which was impending, and accordingly left it to us to invite whom we pleased, telling us, al»ove all, not to have any engaged couples, as he always wanted the library himself for a lounge after breakfast, and he could not stand croquet with such |»eople, as they either cheated awfully, or were too much engaged in conversation interesting only to themselves, to play the game projierly. “Of course, Mr. Herman Boult by, the popular inde|>endent candidate, was to stay at Mortimer Court, and he would no doubt bring his l>eautiful wife with him; for I assure you it has become the fashion again for ladies to canvass on behalf of their husbands, and Mrs. Herman Boultbv is no exception to the rule. 44 We filled the house—literally tilled it—from the magnificent suites once occupied by our gracious Sovereign, down to the bachelor’s dens in the east wing. Among the guests were the Count and the Countess de Silva. Mortimer met them when he was doing the grand tour, and invited them to the Court for the winter. I think the Count once did something for Mortimer—saved him from drowning, I think 1 heard, —or I am sure that my cousin, with his warm heart and generous nature, could never have made a friend of him. Certainly he was very goodlooking, but never looked you straight in the face, or seemed interested in anything but himself and his wife; his interest in her was chiefly shown in watching her every movement, and taking care to prevent her joining in our drives or walks in the neighborhood. 44 Once a day lie took her out himself, hut their walk never extended beyond the park, and we all noticed that the Countess seemed cowed and miserable on their return. 44 4 1 do believe the Count bullies that bewitching wife of his,’ said Mortimer to Tom Earle, of the Guards. 44 4 If he does, he ought to be kicked,’ said Tom, 4 and I should like to do it; but surely he is not such a brute V 44 These remarks took place in the billiard-room as I happened to lie passing the door. I had, with the greatest difficulty, |»ersuaded the Countess to accompany me in my drive, and was walking to and fro in the hall waiting for her, when, just as Tom finished sj*»aking, the Count crossed the hall, and bowing to me, entered the billiard-room. 44 4 Have a game, Count V said lie.

44 4 No, thanks ; 1 play not the game,’ replied the Count. 44 4 l wonder wliat lie can do ? I heard Frank say under liis breath, and I believe the Count heard him too, for he gave him a most diabolical look, of which the imperturbable officer took no notice. However, just at that moment his wife joined me, and we drove into the town. Mr. and Mrs. Bou It by had gone before, and as usual tlieir barouche, standing in the great market-square before one of the sliojis, was the centre of attraction. She is a lovely woman, and dresses to perfection; j>eople talk alfout her as though she were a goddess in tliat neigborhood. Mr. Boultby had to speak from the carriage that night in the market-place, nnd Mrs. Boultby had come to secure a window near. We—the Countess and I—had finished our small purchases, and having passed the last house on the wayside, were going rapidly along the smooth private road towards the Court, when my companion suddenly grew I pale, and on

looking for the cause, saw the Count sauntering down the path by the road side.

44 He came up smiling, as I reined in the j>onies, saying, 4 1 am sorry the Countess and I must leave you to-mor-row, as I have important business which calls me to London.”

44 4 1 am sure we cannot spare you. The election will take place on Wednesday, and this is Friday,’ I said, ‘and Mortimer gives a ball on Wednesday night; you really must not go.’ 44 1 thought he seemed more disagreeable than gentlemanly about the matter —as if I cared whether he stayed or not, so long as he would not take his wife away. 4 Did not know whether he could transact his business by letter, but would see;’ and eyeing the Countess darkly, he turned away, and left us to drive home.

44 We had a brilliant party to dinner that evening; Mr. Boultby was witty as usual, his dark eyes aglow with fun and mischief, as he watched his charming wife bantering with a voter ; for Mortimer, out of sheer nonsense had invited a tenant, Mr. Florentine, an old farmer, though with some borough influence, violently opposed to Mr. Boultby, and Geraldine Boultby, had managed, somehow or other, to get taken into dinner by him, with the view of taking him in afterwards. She was now talking farming to him like* an old stager, and bringing the whole feminine battery to bear, while mv precious cousin was enjoying the fun.

44 The Count sat quiet, gloomy, sardonic as ever, while his wife, splendidly attirred in blue velvet, was chatting to Tom Earle, as she viewed the Count askance. Instead of going into the drawing-room, we all drove, in our dinner dresses, with the gentlemen, into town, to hear our candidate speak from the window of the 4 George’ hotel. Mr. Lackland, the election agent, who met us at the hotel, said Mr. Boultby’s election was looked upon as a certainty, but we (the ladies) were so excited with the cheers of the people, the immense crowd without, and the large committee of gentlemen within the hotel, all of whom were anxious to shake our hands, and looked discomfited if we did not allow them to do so, that we paid no •attention to either the agent or the client’s speech. Ah ! of all excitements, give me the troublous delirium of a contested election, when you are on the side of the popular candidate, and the crowds in the street divide at your approach, and cheer as you pass, wearing the independent colors, pink and white.

44 Time passed rapidly and irregularly until the day of election, the meals being but bits of snacks, taken hurriedly. You cannot expect me to describe the events of the nomination and following days, the swaying crowds, the gangs of hired lambs, the cabs and their semi-intoxicated drivers, the files of special constables, the excited runnere, with their conflicting states of the poll ; the deep anxiety felt when the blue party, who had packed the ]X)lling booths during the night, headed the |K)11 with a dash ; or of the breath less suspense when our candidate, after gradually, fitfully getting to the head, kept there until four o’clock. Talk about the excitement of a London season, give me a closely contested election. 44 After Boultby had addressed the multitude from the large window of the Exchange-rooms in the market-place, we drove to the court, everybody being in the highest spirits, except the Count, who looked Satanic. Tom Earle forestalled him at dinner, and taken the wife downstairs; he took good care, too, to put as much of the table {is he could between himself and the Count, and tried every conversational means to make liis sweet companion enjoy the hour; but she was more distant than ever, and nothing seemed to raise her spirits. 44 After dinner came the ball. The ball-room at the Court is famed far and near for its immense size and splendid decorations. All the best people of the

country were there, and, at Mortimer’s request, some of the Boultby supporters from the town were invited ; so there was a large gathering, and very pretty indeed were some of the faces there that night; but the two who reigned supreme in beauty and grace were Mrs. Boultby and the Countess. Mi's. Boultby, with her majestic figure and really lovely face, and robed in the richest white satin, covered with puffings of silver tulle, wearing a suite of diamonds worthy of a queen ; and the Countess rather shorter in stature, but with the figure of a Diana, hair of that lovely chestnut so seldom seen nowadays, excepting it be false, in black velvet made quite plain, but full and flowing, the richest point-lace edging the body and sleeves, her only ornament a superb pearl necklace. 44 Boultby opened the ball with a beautiful girl, the daughter of a neighboring squire! and Mortimer danced with Mrs. Boultby, while Earle again secured the Countess. The evening passed on until supper wjis announced, when, as the rest of the company turned towards the supperroom, I noticed that the Count, instead of following, turned in the direction of his own apartments. It is impossible

for me to tell you why, but, following some strong impulse, I followed, and watched him go through his own room, and into the dressing-room of the Countess, which had a balcony with French windows, one of which he opened, and went outside. The next room was my own, and, creeping quite close to the window, I could see the Count on the balcony, appearing to be listening intently to a conversation which vas going on below. I could hear voices, too, but not distinctly. I knew they were the voices of two people—a man and a woman ; the one tone was low and earnest, the other sobbing and plaintive. At last I heard Earle say—--44 4 My own darling, to-morrow will be the last day of your misery,’ and then there was silence. “I ran down stairs, and turned into the small drawing-room, when I saw, through the long window, Earle and the Countess moving away from under the balcony. “ Fearful, trembling, not knowing wliat to do, I went to my room again, rang for my maid, and told her to say I was unwell and liad gone to bed, if any inquiries were made for me. I remained sitting by my dressing-room fire until four o’clock, listening to the sounds of the carriages taking away the parting guests. At last all was quiet, and I was still under the influence of a terror, when I heard some one open the window of the Countess’ dressing-room. My fire was out and the blind was undrawn; so, shading the candle-light with my hand, I crossed to the window and saw the Countess outside, seemingly looking on the beauty of the night. She remained a moment, and then was joined by the Count. 44 He went up to her as she leaned over the light railing, and said, 4 Inez, it is a glorious night; let us have a chat as we used in our own little cot by the Arno ; let us talk of our child, the little one we left at Seville, and your mother, that glorious woman who is buried by his side; let us speak of the happy hours we spent'in our beautiful Ita.y. We have been lotus-eaters in our time; have we not dearest ? ’ 44 But the Countess seemed to shrink away from him and become deathly pale, as he approached nearer. “‘What!’ said he, in a voice harsh with passion, 4 you shrink from me, wretch; but you listened to the English captain when he told you his love, just now. 4 My darling, to-morrow will be the last day of your misery; ’ and so it will; but not as you thought. Ah ! how I hate you ! I have hated you ever since the English lord met us at Venice, and lost his heart to your false charms; poor fool, I killed him. I killed your mother because she said her daughter looked unhappy, and began to suspect I was not kind enough. Bah! I killed our boy because you loved him and not me; and now, for your treachery, I will kill you.’

44 The Countess who stood close to the railing, seemed paralysed with fear as the wretch spoke, but when he mentioned the child I saw tears fall on her rich dress. I heard her speak in an imploring tone; I saw her clasp her hands and look upwards, and then he suddenly grasped her hands, pushed her backwards, seized her by the waist and flung her over the balcony. With a scream I fainted, and recovered only to swoon again and again. “For weeks I lay in the delirium of fever, knowing no one. Never, since that dreadful battle in which dear papa was killed, had I been smitten with illness. I wrestled with the fever for long, and when at last sense returned, my first thought was of the Countess. After many days mamma told me that the house was aroused by a terrible cry, and I was found insensible in my room; that the Count came out of his room in a state of madness and despair, saying that his wife had fallen over the balcony in trying to reach some of the flowers that climbed up the pillars; that he was in his room at the time, but rushed out to her on seeing her danger, too late, however, to save her.

44 The Countess was dead when found, and after an inquest, at which a verdict of accidental death was returned, she was buried in the little churchyard of Mortimer. The Coimt left immediately after the funeral, for Italy, it was said. Of course I told all that I had seen, except the meeting of Earle and the Countess, and my story was looked upon as a delusion at first; but letters were found in the corner of an old blotting-book, left accidently by the Count, which showed us that his wife’s marriage to him was an mi willing one on her part. Then inquiries as to his whereabouts were quietly instituted, but to no purpose; for he had disappeared.

“‘What became of Earle?’ I asked. He was one who entered my chamber when I swooned, and was the first to catch the Count’s eye when he entered to utter his prepared tale, from which time he was not seen, until lie left the day after the inquest. Mortimer, unsuspecting his feelings, wrote to him about my statement; and I had a letter this morning, saying Earle had sold his commision and gone away—to seek the murderer. It is this that had reminded me so vividly of the scene. I think I

can see her white face upturned in the moonlight, and the demoniac countenance of the murderer. Poor Earle ! There will be a sequel to the story some day.