Novelist.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIV, Issue 2751, 1 March 1890, Page 5 (Supplement)

Novelist.

BRISTONDELL, OK AN UNLU CKY MARRIAGE.

BY MRS VY. RATTRAY, Author of "Mr Lastyear'a Visit to Auckland," "'The Mystery of Sloane

CottagH," &c., &c., &c.

CHAPTER XVl.—The Verdict.

Tiie funeral was very largely attended, and all the floral treasures of the neighbourhood, seemed strewn over the simple little white and gold coflin. " I atn glad we yielded to Rita's wish and had him christened soon," said Lionel, as he and Matthew stood alone for a few moments in the little parlour at the Oalpston! Arms, and moving aside some o£ the exquisite wreaths read the inscription : " Lionel Matthew Briston. Born July sch, 188—Died, September 6th, 188. -

" He shall gather tho lambs in His bosom."

Both brothers had been much surprised by a specially lovely cross of lilies from Miranda, and had hesitated to accept it.

But they knew Rita would have taken it as a sign of penitence, if not of innocence, and though Matthew muttered something about a Judas gift, still the sweet blossoms were allowed a place at the foot of the coffin.

The Church of England burial service is always an impressive and comforting one, at least to those who have not renounced the right to the belief that they will once more meet their dear ones who " are not lost but gone beforeand to the brothers Briston, standing by the grave of the little heir, it was specially so. Trouble hovered round them, but for the moment at least, earthly trials seemed to have lost their sting/

The funeial ceremony was over, and many old friends pressed forward to offer a few words of heartfelt sympathy, and to inquire affectionately after Rita. By common consent Miranda's name was not mentioned. She had made herself exceedingly unpopular, partly by the mean way she had of insinuating unpleasant remarks about her sister-in-law whenever she had the opportunity. Sometimes if she fancied the people she was talking to were not particularly partial to the " little beauty of Bristondell," ] as some of the gentlemen called Rita, she would openly remark on her selfishness, her vanity, conceit, and she even had the audacity to charge her with ill-temper. A few, but very few, of the distant neighbours believed Miranda's untruths at first, but when they came to know Rita, their unworthy doubts of her vanished immediately, and they despised Miranda for her meanness. As she went into society so much more than her sister-in-law, she had manifold opportunities of exercising her gift of lying. But that sort of thing very often brings its own reward, even in this life, where most people seem to think the wicked only flourish and grow fat. Mrs Matthew Briston had retired to her own room that night,

and was proceeding to remove the jet ornaments with which she had profusely decorated her person, when she heard something that sounded like a pebble thrown against one of her windows. " It's an owl," she assured herself, but as she had put on very little rouge that evening, thinking an interesting pallor the correct thing for the sad ceremony of the day, she could detect as sho looked at herself in her mirror, and paused in the act of unfastening a bracelet, that she had grown very pale. " Bosh," she said aloud, making a great effort to laugh at her fears, l< I'm nervous. I must take a little cordial. lam glad that Matthew agrees with me in thinking champagne is good for neuralgia." But the glass fell from her hand, as two or more little stones rattled against the window-pane.

" Great heavens, some one will hear him," and she cautiously raised the blind a little, and peered out. But it was rather cloudy, and for a few minutes she could distinguish nothing. As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she perceived the figure of a man, standing under the thick shadow of a laurel which grew close to her window.

She could not see his features, for he wore a crush hat drawn well down over his face, and his dark ulster concealed: his figure. But she guessed only too well who it was.

He made her a sign to open the window, and dextrously threw in a letter weighted by a stone, then he disappeared amongst the trees in the shrubbery.

Miranda watched him disappear, then carefully closed the window, drew down the blind, and fell into a chair. The letter lay almost at her feet, but for some moments she had no power to lift it from the carpet. At length, she summoned all her resolution •, " I had better know the worst, yet be can do nothing, after all." This thought seemed to strengthen her, for she quickly opened the envelope, which was sealed with black wax, and read the note. It was not very long, but it took the unhappy woman a good while to fully grasp its contents.

" Dear Madam," so ran the latter, "you have got yourself into a fine scrape this time. I hear you are to be examined at the inquest to-morrow. lam pleased to be in a position to inform you that ,1 know your secret, and have it in my power to make matters rather warm for you on that occasion, unless, indeed, you and I can come to some understanding' on this point. I alone possess the clue which would condemn you, and I am quite willing to compromise. Meet me in the South Shrubbery to-night at twelve o'clock with all the cash you can get, and any good trinkets, and we will talk it over."

When Miranda had fully mastered this cheering document she looked at her watch. It was only eleven o'clock, so she sat down again to think over the best course to pursue. She must stop this man's mouth at all costs. "If I had a revolver, Philip Brown," she muttered, "I would shoot you like a dog." But no amount of thinking shewed her a way of escape, so she reluctantly got out her portemonnaie and counted its contents.

" It's not much, but I will take him my gold bracelet; surely that will satisfy the wretch." But she forgot the grasping nature of the man with, whom she had to deal. It was nearly one o'clock e'er she once more stole softly upstairs and entered her own room. There was a drawn scared look on her face that had now replaced the defiant glance she had worn since the fateful Sunday. She was not naturally a nervous woman, but now she started at the slightest sound, and it was only the effect of a rather larger than usual dose of champagne which caused welcome sleep to at length visit her weary and exhausted frame.

The inquest was resumed the next day, and Miranda was notified that her presence would be required.

In perfect silence, she and her husband and brother-in-law, drove down to the Inn, and awaited their turn in a private parlour.

To Miranda, sitting there, with nothing to occupy her thoughts but the fact that 'she would soon have to face that gaping crowd of rustics whom she would not even seem to see, when she drove or rode proudly forth from Bristodell, through the village, or in the country lanes, was nearly intolerable. They would stare at her, criticise with all the freedom of their class, her dress, her deportment, her expression, her sighs, or smiles, her speech, or her silence. The bare idea of all this was maddening. And to it must be added the pitying glance, the scornful laugh, the graceful shrug of shoulder, or scarcely veiled sneer, the, " I told you sos," and, " to think that we have actually invited her to our houses," of the county families. She could not endure to meet all that. Why had she not sought refuge in flight ? Ah but that would have been to declare herself guilty. Suppose Philip Brown played her false ? But that would do him no good, and he had faithfully promised that all should go well at the inquest. She must wait, wait. But it was that very waiting that was so intensely painful. A line or two of Milton, learnt as a school task, rang with dire portent in her ears.

" And in the lowest deep

A lower deep, still threatning to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer, seems a heaven." What was her still lower deep to be ? She could not face that idea. Each moment the agony of suspense seemed to increase, until she felt she must actuallyscream withsuppressed excitement, and long repressed feeling. And in the next room the inquiry was dlowly progressing. Betty had been recalled, and questioned about Susan's movements. " Where was the maid they call Susan, all morning. " She helped Mrs Matthew to dress, and then I saw her run down with a message to Mrs Lionel." " And then, where did she go ?" " Back to Mrs Matthew." " Did she remain in. Mrs Mat thew Briston's room all the morning?" " No, for I saw her going to her own room soon after." " About what time was that T "I don't know, sir."

" What o'clock was it when Mrs Lionel Briston returned from church ?" " I was that flurried I didn't take notice what o'clock it was." Betty here provoked a little amusement by saying in an extremely dignified manner: "We were in too much real tribulation to take heed of such a trifling thing as what the clock were saying." " When did you see Susan after this unfortunate accident was discovered ?" " I don't think I saw her till nigh bed-time." " What time would that be ?" "Between half - past nine and ten." " Then did she know what had happened ?"

" Not a blessed word had reached her ears. Says I to her, "Well, you're a nice sorb to go out taking your pleasure like this, when we are in such a peek of trouble," says I.

" Did she seem surprised at all V

" I should rather say she did! She just sits down of the first chair, and she says, " Betty," says she, " what's up 1 You look as grave as a funeral J" and I says, solemn-like, and just to break the news to her easy, says I, "Susan, in the midst of life we are in death."

Betty's reserve of the previous examination had given way, and Squire Jossley had frequently to remind her, rather sharply, to keep to the question asked her.

" Did Susan tell you where she had been all day V

"She said she had been along with her young man to see his mother."

Betty was dismissed and a very sheepish-looking under-groom took her place. He deposed that Susan had slipped out at about half-past eleven to tell him she could go home to dinner with him, as Mrs Matthew did not require her ssrvices any more that day. " How long did Susan stay with you f'

The bashful witness blushed deeply, and said he couldn't quite tell.

" Well, did she go to the house again before she went home to dinner with you 1"

"Yes, sir, she just ran in to fix herself up."

" And how long did that operation take 1" asked the squire, visions of the length of time his own daughters required for that important process, Hitting before him.

"It was just striking twelve when she came out, and we went off sharp."

" Are you sure it was not earlier than half-past eleven when she first came out • time passes quickly when one is pleasantly employed."

The groom admitted that that was a " real fact, and I wouldn't swear it wasn't eleven iustead of the half-hour."

" Are there no clocks in the stable V

" Yes, sir, hut I wasn't expecting of'er just then, and wasn't minding the time."

This man was told he might go and the coachman called, who deposed that on his entering the yard at twenty minutes past eleven, Susan was just speaking to the under groom. She went in again at half-past eleven.

Nurse recalled, deposed she was called away to attend poor cook at half-past eleven; she had noticed the time by the kitchen clock as she sent Betty upstairs to stay with the baby.

" Then, supposing Betty to have satisfied herself that the poor little infant was sleeping quietly, and run downstairs again, the child was left alone from 11.30 until its mother came home at one o'clock, or whenever it was ?"

"Yes sir, I suppose so," said nurse, rather startled to find how long the time had really been. To her, busy attending to the cut finger and restoring the cook to consciousness, the minutes had slipped by unnoticed. "Did you see anything of the lady's maid, Susan Smith T "No, sir, I saw her at breakfasttime but do not remember seeing her after that." " You may go. Call Mr Briston." Lionel was asked what time it was when they returned from church % and he replied it was ten minutes to one. " Was not that very early 1 ? " If you remember, there was a stranger taking the duty, and he only gave us fifteen minutes for tho sermon; besides, the service

altogether was a very short one thgtdav."

Squire Jossley thought it his duty, though the task was a very disagreeable one, to put a few questions as to the terms on which the two Mesdames Briston stood, but these Lionel simply declined to answer.

At length, Miranda was summoned. Lionel, seeing how agitated she was, said kindly, "You have nothing to fear, Miranda, we will stand by you," Once face to face with those who might almost be termed her accusers, her courage rose. She bowed to the Squire, who in a very nervous way, put his first question. " Your name and the usual preliminaries. Miranda's voice was a little husky at first, but it soon came clear and shrill as usual. She was not asked to speak up, as some timid withesses were, but every word she said was distinctly audible in the breathless stillness that prevailed all the time she was on the stand.

A man in a slouch hat, and rather shabby clothes, who was standing in the shadow behind the open door, seemed struck with admiration at her coolness.

" You intended going to Church last Sunday morning, I believe, what prevented you ?"

" Yes, I was actually getting ready to go when another very severe attack of neuralgia came on, and I was forced to go back to bed." "Do you suffer much from neuralgia V "Lately I have been a martyr to it." " What does your medical man say ; does he give you no relief ?" Miranda had rather feared that a question of this sort would be put, but she had prepared her answer.

"I do not believe much in doctors, I always treat myself." Someone near Dr. Foss heard him murmur under his breath, " and not very successfully, either."

" Did you send your maid, Susan, with a message to Mrs Lionel Briston 1"

"Certainly, I told her to tell Mrs Lionel that it was quite impossible for me to attend church that morning."

" Did you say, " Tell them not to mind me at all, but go to church, and I will sleep it off?'

" I really do not remember the exact words, but it was something like that."

" Did Susan return to your room ?"

" Yes, she got me an anodyne, and shook up my pillows, and then she left me."

" Did you tell her you would not require her services again that day 1"

"Yes, I said I should probably sleep all day, as I had had a bad night, and she asked if she could go out."

" And you gave her permission to be away all day ; did you not think Mrs Lionel might require her?"

" No, I knew she would not. To tell the truth, Mrs Lionel had some absurd ideas about over-work, and hardly made any use of the girl herself."

" And you were not troubled with the same consideration?" Squire Jossley could not resist this little thrust, though, his conscience told him the question would elicit nothing affecting the case at issue. Miranda gave a forced laugh. " I suppose I have been more used to maids than she has!" an answer which made the brothers flush with anger. " Did you see Susan again after she left your room ?" "No, I have not seen her since." " Then you did not give her permission to go to London ?" " Certainly not. I understand that my husband took it upon himself to do so, without ever inquiring whether I could manage to do without her." " Do you know where she is ?" "No." The answer was abrupt and defiant. " Then you have heard nothing of her since ?" . " Absolutely nothing." "You did not leave your room whilst any of the family were at Church?" " How could I ? No one in their senses would get up after taking a sleeping-draught. I fancy I must have dropped off to sleep almost immediately, for I never heard a sound until Mrs Lionel Briston woke me up with that dreadful noise." " And then ?" "I thought the house must be on fire, and I gob up, though the pain on my head was so bad, I felt as if I would rather burn to death than move, and put on a wrapper, . and ran into the nursery." A juryman wanted to know how it was if Mrs Matthew Briston was asleep when she heard the scream, she should know instantly which room to go j to in order to find out the cause of the disturbance ? The coroner put the question to Miranda who seemed slightly taken aback for an instant, but quickly recovering herself said : " The soured of voices naturally guided ice there; besides everyone was going towards that room." " Will you kindly describe what you saw in the nursery 1" " Oh, I cannot, it was all so confused, so horrible ! And I was so isorry for my poor sister-in-law, I (Rid not notice anyone but her." "Did they tell you the infant was cjead V' "Yes,'

" Who told you?" . '• Mv husband, I think, but' I was almost fainting from pain and alarm; I was scarcely conscious what was said, only I gathered that Mrs Lionel had found the cat lying on the child's face, and the poor little thing was suffocated. Please don't ask me any more about that, it makes me illl was so very sorry." Miranda seemed quite overcome, and several villagers whispered that they thought better of her for showing so much feeling. At this moment the policeman handed Squire Jossley a telegram which he had just received, explaining that someone had told him the night before that Susan bmiths brother had been taken to St, Bartholomew's hospital, and that he knew a nurse there who. would see that Susan got any telegram that might be sent through her. Mirarda was told she might go, and Barnes was asked various questions. " Who was the man who gave you this information, and where did you see him ?" "I saw him last night. He was standing just by the lodge at Bristondell: the south lodge I mean. H.e said his name was Peter Smith and he was a cousin of Mrs Mat' thow's lady's maid. He had rea" about the inquest in the paper, an guessed Susan might be- wanted. But when we talked it over, we thought a telegram would do as well; so he sent off this morning, " Did you see any one near the nursery except nurse from the time Mrs Lionel left the Church, until you went out yourself ?" " And this is her answer ?"

"Yes, sir, perhaps you would kindly read it out to the gentlemen of the jury?"

The squire read, " After leaving Mrs Matthew's room at ten minutes past eleven, was not anywhere near that part of .the house all day. Susan Smith."

Then the coroner summed up, pointing out that not a particle of real evidence had been adduced to show that the death of Lionel Matthew Briston had been caused by anything but an accidentthe fact that the cat had been found by Mrs Briston actually sleeping on the child's face, which the doctor had declared would certainly cause death (and when he examined the infant, he pronounced that death had resulted from, asphyxia, or suffocation) showed how that lamentable accident had occurred. After a few more remarks and a caution to dismiss from their minds any prejudice or preconceived notion, but to passionately consider only the evidence they had before them, the coroner dismissed the jury to decide on a verdict.

Soon after they had retired, the foreman came in to ask how long the doctor considered the child had been dead when he saw him ?

Dr. Foss had seen him half-an-hour after. Mrs Lionel had disaovered he was dead, and the doetor thought the infant had then been dead quite an hour. The foreman again retired, and several of the spectators sauntered out into the little street, or gathered round the bar, discussing the events of the last three days. Suddenly a murmur ran through the crowd, " Here they come," and the jury walked with a conscious sense of their own importance, into the room. The crowd closed up round them and nearly knocked them over in their intense eagerness to hear what they had to say. But it must be confessed the verdict disappointed those of the villagers who had hoped more sensation was in store for them. It was merely this :

"We find that the infant, Lionel Matthew Briston, met his death from suffocation, caused by a cat sleeping on his face, and thereby preventing him breathing, but how the cat got into that position there is no evidence to show."

Then the crowd slowly, dispersed, and when most of them had gone, the closcd Bristondell barouche drove up, and Mrs Matthew Briston and the two brothers quickly entered it, and drawing down the blinds, hid themselves from the too inquisitive gaze of the rustics. And late that night, Miranda's watchful ears were gratified by an ominous rattle of pebbles at her window. (To ha uMtiimed.)