WAS SHE GUILTY ?

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2167, 29 May 1886, Page 5 (Supplement)

WAS SHE GUILTY ?

Os a glorious summer night, as tho h.irve-t moon shed its radiance over lake, and meadow, and woodland, and threw around the fine old mansion of the Berkley family, near tho ' Hawk's Nest,' — that grand pillar of rock one thousand feet high— a weird grandeur, tho young and haughty mistress of tho hou<o paced up and down her apartment with hurried, anxious, and restless step. A f>tranxe light shone in her eyos. Her cheeks were hot and flushed almost to cherry redness. 1 It drives me mad,' she said, stamping tho floor with rage. ' I fear lam going mad : mid to think that [ should be devoured by jealomy, and all caused by one who was born to black my boots — who would never have been anything hotter than a servant vroro it not for my kindness and condescension ! • Tho torture is too great to bo borne,' she continued, burying her faco in her hand*. 'My humiliation is complete. If Leonard really lovrs hpr, then death would bo sweet to me, as life in such circumstances can give mo nothing but bitterness. ' Convulsive sobs burst from her in n torront. They shook her frame, and for once this high-spirited woman gate her embittered feelings full vent. The crimson velvet ourtain which screened the open window was gently drawn a«idc whilo yet Lucy Berkley reoited her anguish and her fears. A strange man, who had hoard nil she said, entered tho room from tho balcony, and .-tood uncovered boforehrr. Dwarfed in htature, with long hairy, powerful arms and a mN-'hiippn body, ho gazed on her with a look of miserable vacancy. This was a narm-loss idiot who had grown up amongst the servants of the establishment, and was allowed to roam about the house with almost unlimited freedom. He had been discovered in Miss Berkley's garden when only a couple of years old, and had well nigh perished there of cold and hunger. Naturally charitable, Lady Berkley took compassion on tho haploss unfortunate, and gave orders that he should be brought up by the gardener's wife. No one ever claimed tho boy, nor was the slightest cluo ever obtained as to who he whs, or where he came from : " He was only a pauper, whom nobody owned." As he grew up, Rufus — for so he wu« called by accident— ie became very ap- I parent, was the merest idiot. He could be taught no letters, yet he made himself useful, in more ways than one, in the house and garden. Of ono sentiment only did he seem capable, and that was to idolise Lady Berkley. To her he devoted himself entirely as a dog does to his master. A kind word from her would send him into fits of glee for hours. He had not intelligence enough to anticipate her wishes, but it gave him positive delight to execute her orders. This devotion touched the heart of the sensitive Miss Berkley, the more that she was often disgusted with the mercenary and motives of her dependents. His appearance, however, created now a sudden feeling of surprise. Hatred, rage, and grief were upon his face unmistakably, but most curiously expressed. Rufus stood silently before her for a moment, not daring to approach until she "poke. ' Wlut is tho matter, Rufus ? I wish to be alone,' she said. For all answer he approached her, and hissed rather than spoke. 1 Come ! See ! She is with him !' And the idiot boy pointed to the open window and drew aside the curtain, so that Miss Berkley miirht pass through to the balcony. Tho words of the simpleton aroused her curiosity. She cast a searching glance over the gardens which surrounded the house, and in a moment the object of his hate became apparent. The clear raoonlisjhc Bhowed her two figures walking arm in arm through a distant avenue shaded by fine elm trees. One was Clara Martin, Miss Berkley's companion. The other— alas her own affianced lover, Leonard Dacre. The idiot watched the anguifth depicted on bis mistress's face, and then, clenching his hand, and pointing to the direction which the pair were taking, he cried ! • I hate her ! She is bad ! Sho makes you weep !' Miss Berkley did not answer, but her gnze remained fixed on tho faithless pair who were coquetting in tho garden. They seemed absorbed in each other, and wore engaged in earnest conversation. ' You would bo happy if i>ho was ti)f away where ho could never see hor again? hissed Rusus. • Yes, if it were possible,' said Mias Berkly, half to hersolf. Thon in a louder tono ; { But if ho loves her he would follow her to tho end of the earth. How false and treacherous he is ! Docs he think my pride can brook this ?' Then turning to the idiot, she said in a tone of command, waving him off with her hend, 1 Leave me now, Rufus, and see that no one comes near me again this evening. ' The flames of dark, burnintr jealousy wero fanned into a blaze within the disappointed woman's heart, and she writhed ia torture and tears for some hours upon the couch in her boudoir. The next morning, as the gardener of the Berkley family made his usual rounds in the gardens and plantations, he saw lying upon a grassy bank the lifeless form of Clara Martin ! There sho lay, stiff and cold in death. Crimson bloodstains dyed the snowy whiteness of her swan-like neck,' and there was a dreadful gash in her throat. A curiously shaped dagger was lying beside her. It was of foreign workmanship, and was apparently the weapon with which the deed of blood had been committed, as the blade was red with gore. A shudder ran through the gardener, but bis face grew white as that of the dead girl near him when he recognised the wetpon as one he had seen in Miss Berkley's cabinet of curiosities. How came it there ? * ♦ » * ♦ It was the last day of a celebrated trial in the county town, and crowds flocked to hear the decision which might condemn the heiress of one of their proudest families to dark, dreary, life-long imprisonment, perhaps to death. Few dared to hope that her innocence would be proved, for circumstantial evidence of the strongest character pointed to Lucy Berkley as the murderess of her ill-fated companion. One alone stood by her, and from the first testified his belief in her innocence. It was the lover whom she had believed false and faithless. Great was her joy in her trouble, to hear from Leonard that he never loved anyone but her, and that his attentions to Clara arose from the fact that lie discovered that he and she were long separated cousins, and joint neirs to a large property, of which they had been deprived by fraud. His long conversations with her were on this subjeot, and he thought it safest to keep their discovery a secret until they could both proceed against the uncle who had been robbing them with some chance of success. But neither tho wealth nor influence Lucy's friends brought to bear in her favour could turn public sentiment in her favour. Her jealousy of Clara had been known. She had used harsh and angry words to the young girl, and these

had been overheard. She was the only person who could have any interest in Clara's death ; and a dagger belonging to her had Veen the instalment of the crime Then no one could tell where Miss Berkley had spent the previous night. She had not taken her usual place in the household ; and she had not been on her bed that niglir, as it was proved to hare been untouched in the morning. Straugely enough, too, the idiot had disappeared, and not the smallest clue to his whereabouts could be obt lined. Leonard D.icre searched up and down the country for him, because ho conceived the strange theory that it w.is this misshapen, unhappy being who was the real murderer. Ho had put forward this theory, but few would even listen patiently to it. Bv the majority it was looked upon us frivolous nonsense ; and many thought Miss Berkley had put the lad out of the way to creato suspicion regarding him. Just beforo the case was given to the jury, however, and whilo every thing pointed to the truilt of tho prisoner at the bar, Leonard Dacro's appearance at the door of the court-room, dragging after him tho idiot, created a thrill among the eager spectutorn. A buzz of excitement agitated every one, including the anxiou* judge and the members of tho jury. The dwarf looked round him hiilf frightened yet defiant. When his eyerested ou the dark-robed figure of hi« mistress in the dock, he uttered a low whine of delight, and dragging himself from the grasp of his captor, he darted towards Miss Berkley, and crouching at her feet. • I killed her! I killed her !' tho idiot •said. ' I did it with your dagger. She was bad. I did not wish to sec you cry.' Great was the astonishment of the by-tanders, and tremendous tho nproai created by this unexpected confession. The judgo then extracted from the dwarf, in broken sentences and disconnected fragments, the story of tho deed. All showed him to be the murderer of Clara Martin, and that his motive wa.devotion to his mistress. Miss Berkley was at once released, but she was seldom seen afterwards in society. A ' still, small voice ' within her told her that her unwarranted and unreasonable jealousy had led to the crime. Her life was therefore a life-long act of repentance ; and for miles around her mansion the poor, the sad, and the suffering always found in her a generous and princely benefactress.