THAT DREADFUL NIGHT

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIII, Issue 25, 22 June 1905, Page 23

THAT DREADFUL NIGHT

On we rolled pleasantly, leaving little by little every trace of not only town 'but of human habitation behind, until I bjegan to s>uspect that my cab«y had lost his way, as might easily happen, and would go wandering on for hours. I was just on the point of calling to him to inquire if he were >q|Uite sure of his road, when I shrank bjack, appalled by the- appearance of two threatening-looking tramps, who, slouching along in the aimless way peculiar to their tribe, came quite close to the cab window, and stared into my face, sending cold chills down my spine and inspiring in me a sudden distaste for this lonesome neighborhood and its horrible frequenters. All the frightful tales of the doings of these gentry in lonely 'districts hovered about me, like a flock of illomeneld birds^ as we went on and on, and my nenes were in such a flutter that by the time my driver suddenly pulled up with a jerk at the gate of the house I had conceived a, fear even of the honest cabby, and was determined to get rid of him at once, and await Elinor safe within four walls at any rate. I tremblingly took out my purse— rather expecting to have it snatched out of my hand — told him not to wait, as I was to meet my friends— l thought the plural sounded better— and hastily opening the gate looked towards; the house with a vain hope that I might see Elinor's face at the window. But there was no Elinor. The house, handsome and imposing, the pretty grounds about — all were silent as the grave. It seemed in its spick-and-span newness and rows of gleaming plate windows an uncanny fairy mansion sprung up at touch of enchanter's wand in this eerie spot. The cal) man was meanwhile thoughtfully regarding me as he settled his lap robe about him, and presently called to me to asik if ' I was quite sure my friends were coming, as it was kind of lonely and was a great place around here for the kind of gents we seen down'on the road yonder.' To which I answered confidently that I expected them every minute, amd would be tyuite safe in th© house meanwhile. This seemed to set his mind at rest, and he drove leisurely off, leaving me absolutely alcne ' 't only realised the word's significance as the sound of the retreating wheels died away in the distance. Then I sal, down on the lowest step of the house and reviewed thr situation. Supposing— all the blood in my 'body took a mart race to my head and back again— supposing Elinor did not come. There were always things that might happen, trifling misunderstandings — >as to the direction foi instance— which md'ght lead and often did .lead to terrible results. Should she not come, how was Ito get home' 1 ' The distance would have counted for little. I should have thought nothing of walking several miles in an ordinary frequented place, but to walk calmly along a tramp-infested road, much of it lying through the woods, would have been to court disaster. But on the other hand— to stay ! I turned with a sick horror" to look up at this already hated house, and as I did so a twig falling from a trele lent me sufficient energy to stumlWe nervously up the steps. tand to put into the keyhole the key which Dick had left so ostentatiously on my desk only this morning. It turned; easily, and the heavy door swinging on its oiled hinges disclosed a handsome hall boasting an artisitic overmantel and red-tiled fireplace — long coveted splendors that were but as dust and ashes to me in this hour of anxious dr&ad. I closed the hall door, which shut with a spring, ant! timidly pushing open a side door near by found myself in a large, well-shaped room, containing a few isolated, pieces of furniture, a sofa r»laced across the corner neai Ihe bow window, a little table, and a common kitchen chair. I suppose any other worrnan but myself would at least have begun the inspection of the house she had come so far to see, but so overcome was I by the terrible conviction that Elinor had in some unaccountable way flailed me, ajid that', I was caught, like a mouse in a tran for one awful night at least, that I could onl-y stand tensely at the window, my eyes straining towards the road, while I tried to pray for deliverance from my dreadful situation. And meanwhile the afternoon relentlessly waned, and as I looked at mv watch I saw that if was closie to half-past four and the sun beginning to go down behind some dark poplars in a distant field. Lower it sank, gleaming out a dujl, threatening red, then

a, Lurid purple, then behind me heavy shadows gathered and shrouded the room and shut me in to an awful silence ana darkness. What a strange weird thing to have happened to me, I thought shudder ingly. And what would Dick think, off there in^Milfoi'd, if he could see his poor little coward wife cromching pitifully against the window in this terrible house, shivering with cold and horror miles awaiyi .from every one. He of course could not possiibjlyi imagine my. situation for a moment, but there was a chance that Elinor would go over to my house to explain her non-appearance, and discovering my absence, would come at once in search of, me. I think it was this faint hope that prevented my utter collapse. ' She may come, she may ooine,' I repeated over and over to myself and at length utterly worn out I groped my way, to the sofa, and sat down, burying my face in my hands to shut out the unbearable darkness. I think I must have fallen into a deep sleep from very exhaustion. Whether or not I can never be sure, but it seemed to me as if 1 had been awakened by a siound, far-off and faint and yet distinct enough for my sore,ly tried nenes. I -sat up all on the alert, all my senses concentrated into the one of hearing. It seemed to mo that some one was coming stealthily along the gjravel path in front of the house, while at the sajne time a creaking of the stairs far above in the house itself announced another nearer danger from that quarter. Some one— it was not imagination— was coming down the s'tairsj of this presumably empty house ! Who ? There is no use trying to describe my feelings. I was conscious of one, a frantic wish to hide myself. Theie was nowhere to go, notihing else to do. I slipped hastily behind the sofa, and, crouching on the floor In a huddled heap, listened breathlessly to the continued sounds which steadily approached this very room where I lay. Years might have elapsed, counting by my mental agony, when I saw distinctly a gleam of light beneath the closed door, which presently opening disclosed a young man, pale and haggard and unkempt-lookSng. Ho looked about the room, set on the table a candle he carried, anS appeared to listen to the cautious steps outside. They mounted the stairs, and the turning of the door ha,ndle was heard. The young man going into. the hall, carefully opened the door, and came back followed by a tall old gentleman who, without any attem.pt at a greeting, advanced to the table and stood silently looking at the younger man. ' Well, now that I am here,' he said at last in a' troubled voice, 'what is it? What new extortion? I have nut myself out no little in coming here to-night, and don't want to be kept, waiting. What is it you want ? ' ' Ridiculous question,' the young man answered with an attempt at swagger. ' Money, of course. I see all those accounts of Kate's entertainments in the society papers, don't I ? I can read as well as another about her dresses and jewels and all that, while I am simply hunted from one place to another.' ' Just because you never let me have money enough to hve right, nor Kate either. Both of you kept your purse strings S o tight where I was concerned. But it'sall Kate, Kate.' ' It's a wonder you Hare to speak of her,' the old man said angrily, ' she whose life you have made so n iserable, and has yet with 'her child been to me al! that you. — ' The contemptuous pause told the whole sad story. ' There's no use going over that old lecture,' the vorng man said sharply, biting savagely at his nails. ' I'm <-ick of it.' ' Yo.i l>now my bargain. You promised to make it worth my while to 1-eep out of- the wav, ami by— you d-<n't. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll disgrace you and your peerless Kate. I'll draig her off with me and, tie child too. I'll p-ive the society papers am interesting little bit of family hisfory when I get safely out of the co'intrv, I promise you. So now I want money and a lot of it, and you know the alternative.'

' There is another alternative,' the old man said fiercely. ' Come rear Kate, ; give her the slightest annovancc, and I'll ei\c you tip, if I have to drag you to the -police .station myself. I made the marriage tor her, God help me ' thinking it, might save you, and I orlv sacrificed the dear, good girl I had promised her father to protect. But I'll protect her now, late as it is Better all should come out — T have been coming to that conclusion for some time— than to endure this secret misery any longer. Oh ' to think that I was once proul of you, my only son,' the old man groaned, while his .son listened, sullenly staring* at the ground. ' Now my only hope js that I may never see you* again.' 4

4 Not much chance of that/ the son shouted, advancing close to his father and shaking hi« fist in his* face. 1 1 see through your gjame. Starve me in life and when you die leave everything to Kate so tied up tha,t I can't touch a cent., I've thought of all that till I'm just half mad/ and I've made up my mind to settle it all tonight. You are going to sign a cheque to-night that will keep me in clover whatever happens, and it's going to be cashed I can tell you before you can stop payment or anything of that kind. I've got a respectable friend in the city who will see to that for me. It's got to /be done. You've made me desperate, and that means danger. I tell you, and 1 mean it, that you'll never get out of this room ali\e unless you do exactly what I ask you.' ' You dare to threaten me ? ' the old man a,sfced in a passion terrible to see. ' You ! I might ha\e expected it, miserable coward, decoying your father to a midnight meeting like this to dare to speak to him in this way. Do you suppose that I, a man at any rate, old as I am, am afraia of a poor broken-down creature like ypu'? ' In a moment there was a wild rush and a struggle, a terrible swaying to and iro, and then a crash. The young man had thrown his father heavily to the ground, and seizing a heavy stick which the old man had laid upon the table on entering, raised it ami was just aibout to bring it down upon his father's helpless head when God ga,ve me strength, and I cried out in a voice that sounded terrible and unnatural beyond belief. 1 Murderer ! How Clare you ! How dare you'! ' The young man positively leaped into the air at my words, uttered a wild cry, and fled from the room, overturning the table and the candle as he did so— leaving the room once, more in impenetrable darkness. With a vague, half-conscious feeling 'that something ought to be done for the prostrate man, I made an effort to rise, but a strange nervous shuddering seized hold of me, a wave of icy coldness seemed to sweep over me, and I must have fallen back on the floor unconscious, for I rememiber nothing more. At home, meanwhile, ail was peace and quiet, the children snugly asleep, and all my little household confident that I had gone home with Cousin Elinor after my expedition. My hu^bana" got home about nine the next morning, as hd had expected, and was somewhat aggrieved and a little Surprised to find no welcoming wife, but proceeded to eat his breakfast as was the vront of man even when perturbed. While thus occupied the door-bell rang and Cousin Elinor appeared on her way home from market, a good deal out of temper and anxious to have it out with me. She looked in astonishment at my empty chair. ' If-n't Marion down yet ? ' she asked. ' Marion ? What <are you talk/ing about Elinor'?. ' Dick said, leaping to his feet. 'Do you mej\n to say Marion isn't with you ? Didn't go home with you last night ? ' 6 ' Elinor, Dick says, rushed to the hall instead of answering, and to the telephone, where she shouted frantically for the fastest cab on the stand to be sent at once. ' Dick,' she said, wheeling round and seizing Dick with a grip which he says he bears the marks to this day. ' Something has happened to Marion. Who went with her yesterday ? ' ' Why you were supposed to have met her, nurse tells me. She left here alone, thinking you were going.' ' And of course I did go, 'but my fool of a cabnvan lost his way, and I was driving about till seven o'clock looking for the wretched place.' ' And then ? ' 1 And then I came home, sure that nurse and the children were /still with Marion, and had aill gone home lone before.' Elinor says she was afraid Dick was going to die on the spot, he looked so fearful while she was trying to explain things. Then they set out and drove in deadly tense silence, broken by an occasional groan from Dick a<J he probably realised that it was his fault I had gone at all. Indeed he frankly admitted this at first in the fulnoss of his penitential heart, but is ratheir inclined to reason contradictorily about it in a serener state of things. For of course things turned out all right. They stopped at the gate and my Dick tore up the walk like a panther. The Soor being sprung, he gave it such a frantic blow as to finally sewl it crushing in, and Elinor panted after him, arriving in time to hear ' him calling ' Marion ! Marion ' ' from the top of the first stairs. She, turning to the drawing-room, very nearly fell on the prostrate form of the old man, who was lying where he had fa] leu the night ibefore. At this

sight she hail so screamed as to convince Dick of her having found my dead bfidy, so that it was duite a relief to him to recognise in the silent form the owner of the house, Mr. Jessup, who had probably died suddenly whilei out there on business and alone. ' Leaving the poor man where he was they renewed their search for me, though with soapce a hope of success, and they were, Dick says, just an the point of giving it up as* far as the house was concarnad and going further afield in their quest, when Elinor happened by the merest chance to glance behind the sofa. Of all places who would ever have thought of such a hiding place, but there she discovered me, white and cold and to all appearance as dead as they in their ignorance'stupposed Mr. Jessup to be. For hd wasn't dead any more than I was. A doctor, hastily summoned, declared him to be suffering from concussion of the brain, a severe case but not nopeless . He recovered, though the events of that night it is to be feared left a truly incurable wound in his heart. I lay wandering for days and days, driving my faithful nurses wild, but finally came back to consciousness and horror, when I.wa.s able to recall my terrible experience. But that, as is the natural, merciful law, gradually faded ,away,. and I became able to rejoice that I, poor, nervous I, had gone through that night of agony in order to save a noble and useful life. Some time a^ter Mr. Jessup was called to the deathbed of his erring son, who, making a pitiful attempt} at repentance, gladdened his poor old father's heart by the - statement tnat his one happy moment since that sad night had been that in which he heard that his father was alive and well, and that with all his sins he was free 'at least from—.' His father had laid his hand unon the poor dying lips, to shut out the mention of that awful^ word, ajid had blessed him and forgiven him, and thus hisi only son had died and set his wife and child free. I need scarcely tell you that we didn't go to that house, but Mr. Jessup, who is a very rich man with but one smtall grandchild to inherit his wealth, insisted on my accenting the loveliest little nest you ever saw in the country, in a way, but quite close to town, and wrll protected by several other housps delightfully near, bit not too near— which, now that it is all past and done with, seems worth that night, though- 1 am not quite sure.— Exchange.