This mysterious circumstance made a great talk in the village and in the
kitchen of Hernshaw Castle; but not in the drawing-room; for Mrs. Gaunt
instantly closed her door to visitors, and let it be known that it was
her intention to retire to a convent; and, in the mean time, she desired
not to be disturbed.
Ryder made one or two attempts to draw her out upon the subject, but was
sternly checked.
Pale, gloomy, and silent, the mistress of Hernshaw Castle moved about
the place, like the ghost of her former self. She never mentioned
Griffith; forbade his name to be uttered in her hearing; and, strange to
say, gave Ryder strict orders not to tell any one what she had heard
from Thomas Leicester.
"This last insult is known but to you and me. If it ever gets abroad,
you leave my service that very hour."
This injunction set Ryder thinking. However, she obeyed it to the
letter. Her place was getting better and better; and she was a woman
accustomed to keep secrets.
A pressing letter came from Mr. Atkins.
Mrs. Gaunt replied that her husband had come to Hernshaw, but had left
again; and the period of his ultimate return was now more uncertain than
ever.
On this Mr. Atkins came down to Hernshaw Castle. But Mrs. Gaunt would
not see him. He retired very angry, and renewed his advertisements, but
in a more explicit form. He now published that Griffith Gaunt, of
Hernshaw and Bolton, was executor and residuary legatee to the late
Griffith Gaunt of Coggleswade; and requested him to apply directly to
James Atkins, Solicitor, of Gray's Inn, London.
In due course this advertisement was read by the servants at Hernshaw,
and shown by Ryder to Mrs. Gaunt.
She made no comment whatever; and contrived to render her pale face
impenetrable.
Ryder became as silent and thoughtful as herself, and often sat bending
her black judicial brows.
* * * * *
By and by dark mysterious words began to be thrown out in Hernshaw
village.
"He will never come back at all."
"He will never come into that fortune."
"'T is no use advertising for a man that is past reading."
These, and the like equivocal sayings, were followed by a vague buzz,
which was traceable to no individual author, but seemed to rise on all
sides, like a dark mist, and envelop that unhappy house.
And that dark mist of Rumor soon condensed itself into a palpable and
terrible whisper,--"Griffith Gaunt hath met with foul play."
* * * * *
No one of the servants told Mrs. Gaunt this horrid rumor.
But the women used to look at her, and after her, with strange eyes.
She noticed this, and felt, somehow, that her people were falling away
from her. It added one drop to her bitter cup. She began to droop into a
sort of calm, despondent lethargy.
Then came fresh trouble to rouse her.
Two of the county magistrates called on her in their official capacity,
and, with perfect politeness, but a very grave air, requested her to
inform them of all the circumstances attending her husband's
disappearance.
She replied, coldly and curtly, that she knew very little about it. Her
husband had left in the middle of the night.
"He came to stay?"
"I believe so."
"Came on horseback?"
"Yes."
"Did he go away on horseback?"
"No; for the horse is now in my stable."
"Is it true there was a quarrel between you and him that evening?"
"Gentlemen," said Mrs. Gaunt, drawing herself back, haughtily, "did you
come here to gratify your curiosity?"
"No, madam," said the elder of the two; "but to discharge a very serious
and painful duty, in which I earnestly request you, and even advise you,
to aid us. Was there a quarrel?"
"There was--a mortal quarrel."
The gentlemen exchanged glances, and the elder made a note.
"May we ask the subject of that quarrel?"
Mrs. Gaunt declined, positively, to enter into a matter so delicate.
A note was taken of this refusal.
"Are you aware, madam, that your husband's voice was heard calling for
help, and that a pistol-shot was fired?"
Mrs. Gaunt trembled visibly.
"I heard the pistol-shot," said she; "but not the voice distinctly. O, I
hope it was not his voice Ryder heard!"
"Ryder, who is he?"
"Ryder is my lady's maid: her bedroom is on that side the house."
"Can we see Mrs. Ryder?"
"Certainly," said Mrs. Gaunt, and rose and rang the bell.
Mrs. Ryder answered the bell, in person, very promptly; for she was
listening at the door.
Being questioned, she told the magistrates what she had heard down by
"the mere"; and said she was sure it was her master's voice that cried
"Help!" and "Murder!" And with this she began to cry.
Mrs. Gaunt trembled and turned pale.
The magistrates confined their questions to Ryder.
They elicited, however, very little more from her. She saw the drift of
their questions, and had an impulse to defend her mistress there
present. Behind her back it would have been otherwise.
That resolution once taken, two children might as well have tried to
extract evidence from her as two justices of the peace.
And then Mrs. Gaunt's pale face and noble features touched them. The
case was mysterious, but no more; and they departed little the wiser,
and with some apologies for the trouble they had given her.
The next week down came Mr. Atkins, out of all patience, and determined
to find Griffith Gaunt, or else obtain some proof of his decease.
He obtained two interviews with Ryder, and bribed her to tell him all
she knew. He prosecuted other inquiries with more method than had
hitherto been used, and elicited an important fact, namely, that
Griffith Gaunt had been seen walking in a certain direction at one
o'clock in the morning, followed at a short distance by a tall man with
a knapsack, or the like, on his back.
The person who gave this tardy information was the wife of a certain
farmer's man, who wired hares upon the sly. The man himself, being
assured that, in a case so serious as this, no particular inquiries
should be made how he came to be out so late, confirmed what his wife
had let out, and added, that both men had taken the way that would lead
them to the bridge, meaning the bridge over the mere. More than that he
could not say, for he had met them, and was full half a mile from the
mere before those men could have reached it.
Following up this clew, Mr. Atkins learned so many ugly things, that he
went to the Bench on justicing day, and demanded a full and searching
inquiry on the premises.
Sir George Neville, after in vain opposing this, rode off straight from
the Bench to Hernshaw, and in feeling terms conveyed the bad news to
Mrs. Gaunt; and then, with the utmost delicacy, let her know that some
suspicion rested upon herself, which she would do well to meet with the
bold front of innocence.
"What suspicion, pray?" said Mrs. Gaunt, haughtily.
Sir George shrugged his shoulders, and replied, "That you have done
Gaunt the honor to put him out of the way."
Mrs. Gaunt took this very differently from what Sir George expected.
"What!" she cried, "are they so sure he is dead,--murdered?"
And with this she went into a passion of grief and remorse.
Even Sir George was puzzled, as well as affected, by her convulsive
agitation.