THE TIME OF TRIAL.
Meanwhile he was waiting for my answer. I stepped forward, intending to
take his hand, but the stains drove me back again. Where so much depends
upon a right--or a mis-understanding, the only way is to speak the fair
truth. I did so; by a sort of forced calm holding back the seething of
my brain.
"George, I should like to touch you, but--I cannot! I beg you to forgive
the selfishness of my grief--my mind is confused--I shall be better
soon. God has sent us a great sorrow, in which I know you are
as innocent as I am. I am very sorry--I think that is all." And I put my
hand to my head, where a sharp pain was beginning to throb. Mr. Manners
spoke, emphatically--
"God bless you, Dorolice! You know I promised. Thank you, for
ever!"
"If you fancy you have any reason to thank me," I said, "do me this
favour. Whatever happens, believe that I believe!"
I could bear no more, so I went out of the kitchen. As I went I heard a
murmur of pity run through the room, and I knew that they were
pitying--not the dead man, but me; and me--not for my dead brother, but
for his murderer. When I got into the passage, the mist that had still
been dark before my eyes suddenly became darker, and I remember no more.
When my senses returned, Harriet had come home. From the first she would
never hear George's name except to accuse him with frantic bitterness of
poor Edmund's death; and as nothing would induce me to credit his guilt,
the subject was as much as possible avoided. I cannot dwell on those
terrible days. I was very ill for some time, and after I had come
down-stairs, one day I found a newspaper containing the following
paragraph, which I copy here, as it is the shortest and least painful
way of telling you the facts of poor Edmund's death.
"THE MURDER AT CROSSDALE HALL.
"Universal horror has been excited in the neighbourhood by the murder of
Edmund Lascelles, Esq., of Crossdale Hall. Mr. Lascelles was last seen
alive a little after ten o'clock on Friday night, at which time he left
the house alone, and was not seen again living. At the inquest on
Saturday, James Crosby, a farm labourer, gave the following evidence:--
"'I had been sent into the village for some medicine for a sick beast,
and was returning to the farm by the park a little before eleven, when
near the low gate I saw a man standing with his back to me. The moon was
shining, and I recognized him at once for Mr. George Manners, of
Beckfield. When Mr. Manners saw me he seemed much excited, and called
out, "Quick! help! Mr. Lascelles has been murdered." I said, "Good
God! who did it?" He said, "I don't know; I found him in the
ditch; help me to carry him in." By this time I had come up and saw Mr.
Lascelles on the ground, lying on his side. I said, "How do you know
he's dead?" He said, "I fear there's very little hope; he has bled so
profusely. I am covered with blood." I was examining the body, and as I
turned it over I found that the right hand was gone. It had been cut off
at the wrist. I said, "Look here! Did you know this?" He spoke very low,
and only said, "How horrible!" I said, "Let us look for the hand; it may
be in the ditch." He said, "No, no! we are wasting time. Bring him in,
and let us send for the doctor." I ran to the ditch, however, but could
see nothing but a pool of blood. Coming back, I found on the ground a
thick hedge-stake covered with blood. The grass by the ditch was very
much stamped and trodden. I said, "There has been a desperate struggle."
He said, "Mr. Lascelles was a very strong man." I said, "Yes; as strong
as you, Mr. Manners." He said, "Not quite; very nearly though." He said
nothing more till we got to the hall; then he said, "Who can break it to
his sister?" I said, "They will have to know. It's them that killed him
has brought this misery upon them." The low gate is a quarter of a mile,
or more, from the hall.'
"Death seems to have been inflicted by two instruments--a wounding and a
cutting one. As yet, no other weapon but the stake has been discovered,
and a strict search for the missing hand has also proved fruitless. No
motive for this wanton outrage suggests itself, except that the unhappy
gentleman was in the habit of wearing on his right hand a sapphire ring
of great value." (An heirloom; it is on my finger as I write, dear Nell.
Oh! my poor boy.) "All curiosity is astir to discover the perpetrator of
this horrible deed; and it is with the deepest regret that we are
obliged to state that every fresh link in the chain of evidence points
with fatal accuracy to one whose position, character, and universal
popularity would seem to place him above suspicion. We would not
willingly intrude upon the privacy of domestic interests, but the
following facts will too soon be matters of public notoriety.
"A younger sister of the deceased appears to have formed a matrimonial
engagement with George Manners, Esq., of Beckfield. It was strongly
opposed by Mr. Lascelles, and the objection (which at the time appeared
unreasonable) may have been founded on a more intimate knowledge of the
suitor's character than was then possessed by others. The match was
broken off, and all intercourse was suspended till the night of the
murder, when Mr. Manners gained admittance to the hall in the absence of
Mr. Lascelles, and was for some hours alone in the young lady's company.
They were found together a little before nine o'clock by Mr. Lascelles,
and a violent scene ensued, in the course of which the young lady left
the apartment. (Miss Lascelles has been ill ever since the unhappy
event, and is so still. Her deposition was taken in writing at the
hall.) From the young lady's evidence it appears, first, that the
passions of both were strongly excited, and she admits having felt
sufficient apprehension to induce her to twice warn Mr. Manners to
self-control. Secondly, that Mr. Manners avowed himself prepared to defy
Mr. Lascelles' authority in the matter of the marriage; and thirdly, the
two sentences of their final conversation that she overheard (both Mr.
Manners') were what can hardly be interpreted otherwise than as a
threat, that 'their next meeting should be a different one,' and that
then '_he would not ask for Mr. Lascelles' hand, but take it_.' The
diabolical character of determined and premeditated vindictiveness thus
given to an otherwise unaccountable outrage upon his victim, goes far to
take away the feeling of pity which we should otherwise have felt for
the murderer, regarding him as under the maddening influences of
disappointed love and temporary passion. Perhaps, however, the most
fatally conclusive evidence against Mr. Manners lies in the time that
elapsed between his leaving the hall and being found in the park by the
murdered body. He left the house at a quarter past nine--he was found by
the body of the deceased a little before eleven; so that either it must
have taken him more than an hour and a half to walk a quarter of a
mile--which is obviously absurd--or he must have been waiting for nearly
two hours in the grounds. Why did he not return at once to the house of
Mr. Topham? (where it appears that he was staying). For what--or for
whom--was he waiting? If he were in the park at the time of the murder,
how came it that he heard no cries, gave the unhappy gentleman no
assistance, and offers no suggestion or clue to the mystery beyond the
obstinate denial of his own guilt, though he confesses to having been in
the grounds during the whole time of the deadly struggle, and though he
was found alone with scratched hands and blood-stained clothes beside
the corpse of his avowed enemy? We leave these questions to the
consideration of our readers, as they will be for that of a
conscientious and impartial jury, not, we trust, blinded by the wealth
and position of the criminal to the hideous nature of the crime.
"The funeral is to take place to-morrow; George Manners is fully
committed to take his trial for wilful murder at the ensuing assizes."
The above condemning extract only too well represented the state of
public feeling. All Middlesex--nay, all England--was roused to
indignation, and poor Edmund's youth and infirmities made the crime
appear the more cowardly and detestable.