"My mother!" he shouted with the same furious vehemence--"Killed! by
_her_! Oh, horror!--horror!--horror!" and exhausted by the violence of
his emotions, the unfortunate gentleman staggered, shuddered violently,
as if shaken by an ague fit, and fell heavily--for I was too confounded
to yield him timely aid--on the floor.
As soon as I could rally my scattered senses, I caused medical aid to be
summoned, and got him to bed. Blood was freely taken from both arms, and
he gradually recovered consciousness. Leaving him in kind and careful
hands, I hurried off to ascertain what possible foundation there could be
for the terrible tidings so strangely announced.
I found the establishment in Harley Street in a state of the wildest
confusion and dismay. Mrs. Rushton _was_ dead; that, at all events, was
no figment of sudden insanity, and incredible, impossible rumors were
flying from mouth to mouth with bewildering rapidity and incoherence.
The name of Mademoiselle de Tourville was repeated in every variety of
abhorrent emphasis; but it was not till I obtained an interview with
Mrs. Rushton's solicitor that I could understand what really had
occurred, or, to speak more properly, what was suspected. Mrs. Rushton
had made a deposition, of which Mr. Twyte related to me the essential
points. The deceased lady had gone out in her carriage with the express
intention of calling on him, the solicitor, to ascertain if it would be
possible to apply the Alien Act to Mademoiselle de Tourville and her
father, in order to get them sent out of the country. Mr. Twyte did not
happen to be at home, and Mrs. Rushton immediately drove to the De
Tourvilles' lodgings in King Street, Holborn, with the design, she
admitted, of availing herself of what she was in her own mind satisfied
was the purely accidental taking away of a jewel-case, to terrify
Mademoiselle de Tourville, by the threat of a criminal charge, into
leaving the country, or at least to bind herself not to admit, under any
circumstances, of Mr. Arthur Rushton's addresses. She found Eugénie in a
state of extraordinary, and it seemed painful excitement; and the young
lady entreated that whatever Mrs. Rushton had to say should be reserved
for another opportunity, when she would calmly consider whatever Mrs.
Rushton had to urge. The unfortunate lady became somewhat irritated at
Mademoiselle de Tourville's obstinacy, and the unruffled contempt with
which she treated the charge of robbery, even after finding the missing
jewel-case in a band-box, into which it had been thrust with some
brushes and other articles in the hurry of leaving. Mrs. Rushton was
iterating her threats in a loud tone of voice, and moved towards the
bell to direct, she said, the landlord to send for a constable, but with
no intention whatever of doing so, when Mademoiselle de Tourville caught
her suddenly by the arm, and bade her step into the next room. Mrs.
Rushton mechanically obeyed, and was led in silence to the side of a
bed, of which Eugénie suddenly drew the curtain, and displayed to her,
with a significant and reproachful gesture, the pale, rigid countenance
of her father's corpse, who had, it appears, suddenly expired. The shock
was terrible. Mrs. Rushton staggered back into the sitting-room, sick
and faint, sank into a chair, and presently asked for a glass of wine.
"We have no wine," replied Mademoiselle de Tourville; "but there is a
cordial in the next room which may be better for you." She was absent
about a minute, and on returning, presented Mrs. Rushton with a large
wine-glassful of liquid, which the deceased lady eagerly swallowed. The
taste was strange, but not unpleasant; and instantly afterwards Mrs.
Rushton left the house. When the carriage reached Harley Street, she was
found to be in a state of great prostration: powerful stimulants were
administered, but her life was beyond the reach of medicine. She
survived just long enough to depose to the foregoing particulars; upon
which statement Mademoiselle de Tourville had been arrested, and was now
in custody.
"You seem to have been very precipitate," I exclaimed as soon as the
solicitor had ceased speaking: "there appears to be as yet no proof that
the deceased lady died of other than natural causes."
"You are mistaken," rejoined Mr. Twyte. "There is no doubt on the subject
in the minds of the medical gentlemen, although the _post-mortem_
examination has not yet taken place. And, as if to put aside all doubt,
the bottle from which this Eugénie de Tourville admits she took the
cordial proves to contain distilled laurel-water, a deadly poison,
curiously colored and flavored."
Greatly perturbed, shocked, astonished as I was, my mind refused to
admit, even for a moment, the probability, hardly the possibility, of
Eugénie de Tourville's guilt. The reckless malignancy of spirit evinced
by so atrocious an act dwelt not, I was sure, within that beauteous
temple. The motives alleged to have actuated her--fear of a criminal
charge, admitted to be absurd, and desire to rid herself of an obstacle
to her marriage with Arthur Rushton--seemed to me altogether strained and
inapplicable. The desperation of unreasoning hate could alone have
prompted such a deed; for detection was inevitable, had, in truth, been
courted rather than attempted to be avoided.
My reasoning made no change in the conclusions of Mr. Twyte the attorney
for the prosecution, and I hastened home to administer such consolation
to Arthur Rushton as might consist in the assurance of my firm conviction
that his beloved mother's life had not been wilfully taken away by
Eugénie de Tourville. I found him still painfully agitated; and the
medical attendant told me it was feared by Dr. ---- that brain fever
would supervene if the utmost care was not taken to keep him as quiet and
composed as, under the circumstances, was possible. I was, however,
permitted a few minutes' conversation with him; and my reasoning, or,
more correctly, my confidently-expressed belief--for his mind seemed
incapable of following my argument, which it indeed grasped faintly at,
but slipped from, as it were, in an instant--appeared to relieve him
wonderfully. I also promised him that no legal or pecuniary assistance
should be wanting in the endeavor to clear Mademoiselle de Tourville of
the dreadful imputation preferred against her. I then left him. The
anticipation of the physician was unfortunately realized: the next
morning he was in a raging fever, and his life, I was informed, was in
very imminent danger.
It was a distracting time; but I determinedly, and with much self-effort,
kept down the nervous agitation which might have otherwise rendered me
incapable of fulfilling the duties I had undertaken to perform. By
eleven o'clock in the forenoon I had secured the active and zealous
services of Mr. White, one of the most celebrated of the criminal
attorneys of that day. By application in the proper quarter, we obtained
immediate access to the prisoner, who was temporarily confined in a
separate room in the Red-Lion Square Lock-up House. Mademoiselle de
Tourville, although exceedingly pale, agitated, and nervous, still looked
as lustrously pure, as radiantly innocent of evil thought or deed, as on
the day that I first beheld her. The practiced eye of the attorney
scanned her closely. "As innocent of this charge," he whispered, "as you
or I." I tendered my services to the unfortunate young lady with an
earnestness of manner which testified more than any words could have done
how entirely my thoughts acquitted her of offence. Her looks thanked me;
and when I hinted at the promise exacted of me by Arthur Rushton, a
bright blush for an instant mantled the pale marble of her cheeks and
forehead, indicating with the tears, which suddenly filled and trembled
in her beautiful eyes, a higher sentiment, I thought, than mere
gratitude. She gave us her unreserved confidence; by which, after careful
sifting, we obtained only the following by no means entirely satisfactory
results:--
Mademoiselle de Tourville and her father had escaped from the Terrorists
of France by the aid of, and in company with, the Chevalier la Houssaye,
with whom M. de Tourville had previously had but very slight
acquaintance. The chevalier soon professed a violent admiration for
Eugénie; and having contrived to lay M. de Tourville under heavy
pecuniary obligations at play--many of them Mademoiselle de Tourville had
only very lately discovered--prevailed upon his debtor to exert his
influence with his daughter to accept La Houssaye's hand in marriage.
After much resistance, Mademoiselle de Tourville, overcome by the
commands, entreaties, prayers of her father, consented, but only on
condition that the marriage should not take place till their return to
France, which it was thought need not be very long delayed, and that no
more money obligations should in the meantime be incurred by her father.
La Houssaye vehemently objected to delay; but finding Eugénie inexorable,
sullenly acquiesced. It was precisely at this time that the engagement
with Mrs. Rushton was accepted. On the previous afternoon Mademoiselle de
Tourville, on leaving Harley Street after the scene with the deceased
lady, went directly home, and there found both her father and the
chevalier in hot contention and excitement. As soon as La Houssaye saw
her, he seized his hat, and rushed out of the apartment and house. Her
father, who was greatly excited, had barely time to say that he had
fortunately discovered the chevalier to be a married man, whose wife, a
woman of property, was still living in Languedoc, when what had always
been predicted would follow any unusual agitation happened: M. de
Tourville suddenly placed his hand on his side, uttered a broken
exclamation, fell into a chair, and expired. It was about two hours after
this melancholy event that Mrs. Rushton arrived. The account before given
of the interview which followed was substantially confirmed by
Mademoiselle de Tourville; who added, that the cordial she had given Mrs.
Rushton was one her father was in the constant habit of taking when in
the slightest degree excited, and that she was about to give him some
when he suddenly fell dead.
We had no doubt, none whatever, that this was the whole, literal truth,
as far as the knowledge of Mademoiselle de Tourville extended; but how
could we impart that impression to an Old Bailey jury of those days,
deprived as we should be of the aid of counsel to address the jury, when
in reality a speech, pointing to the improbabilities arising from
character, and the altogether _un_guilty-like mode of administering the
fatal liquid, was the only possible defence? Cross-examination promised
nothing; for the evidence would consist of the dying deposition of Mrs.
Rushton, the finding of the laurel-water, and the medical testimony as to
the cause of death. The only person upon whom suspicion glanced was La
Houssaye, and that in a vague and indistinct manner. Still, it was
necessary to find him without delay, and Mr. White at once sought him at
his lodgings, of which Mademoiselle de Tourville furnished the address.
He had left the house suddenly with all his luggage early in the morning,
and our efforts to trace him proved fruitless. In the meantime the
_post-mortem_ examination of the body had taken place, and a verdict of
willful murder against Eugénie de Tourville been unhesitatingly returned.
She was soon afterwards committed to Newgate for trial.
The Old Bailey session was close at hand, and Arthur Rushton, though
immediate danger was over, was still in too delicate and precarious a
state to be informed of the true position of affairs when the final day
of trial arrived. The case had excited little public attention. It was
not the fashion in those days to exaggerate the details of crime, and,
_especially before trial_, give the wings of the morning to every fact
or fiction that rumor with her busy tongue obscurely whispered. Twenty
lines of the "Times" would contain the published record of the
commitment of Eugénie de Tourville for poisoning her mistress, Caroline
Rushton; and, alas! spite of the crippled but earnest efforts of the
eminent counsel we had retained, and the eloquent innocence of her
appearance and demeanor, her conviction and condemnation to death
without hope of mercy! My brain swam as the measured tones of the
recorder, commanding the almost immediate and violent destruction of
that beauteous masterpiece of God, fell upon my ear; and had not Mr.
White, who saw how greatly I was affected, fairly dragged me out of
court into the open air, I should have fainted. I scarcely remember how
I got home--in a coach, I believe; but face Rushton after that dreadful
scene with a kindly-meant deception--_lie_--in my mouth, I could not,
had a king's crown been the reward. I retired to my chamber, and on the
plea of indisposition directed that I should on no account be disturbed.
Night had fallen, and it was growing somewhat late, when I was startled
out of the painful reverie in which I was still absorbed by the sudden
pulling up of a furiously-driven coach, followed by a thundering summons
at the door, similar to that which aroused me on the evening of Mrs.
Rushton's death. I seized my hat, rushed down stairs, and opened the
door. It was Mr. White!
"Well!--well!" I ejaculated.
"Quick--quick!" he exclaimed in reply. "La Houssaye--he is found--has
sent for us--quick! for life--life is on our speed!"
I was in the vehicle in an instant. In less than ten minutes we had
reached our destination--a house in Duke Street, Manchester Square.
"He is still alive," replied a young man in answer to Mr. White's hurried
inquiry. We rapidly ascended the stairs, and in the front apartment of
the first floor beheld one of the saddest, mournfulest spectacles which
the world can offer--a fine, athletic man, still in the bloom of natural
health and vigor, and whose pale features, but for the tracings there of
fierce, ungoverned passions, were strikingly handsome and intellectual,
stretched by his own act upon the bed of death! It was La Houssaye! Two
gentlemen were with him--one a surgeon, and the other evidently a
clergyman, and, as I subsequently found, a magistrate, who had been sent
for by the surgeon. A faint smile gleamed over the face of the dying man
as we entered, and he motioned feebly to a sheet of paper, which, closely
written upon, was lying upon a table placed near the sofa upon which the
unhappy suicide was reclining. Mr. White snatched, and eagerly perused
it. I could see by the vivid lighting up of his keen gray eye that it
was, in his opinion, satisfactory and sufficient.
"This," said Mr. White, "is your solemn deposition, knowing yourself to
be dying?"
"Yes, yes," murmured La Houssaye; "the truth--the truth!"
"The declaration of a man," said the clergyman with some asperity of
tone, "who defyingly, unrepentingly, rushes into the presence of his
Creator, can be of little value!"
"Ha!" said the dying man, rousing himself by a strong effort;
"I repent--yes--yes--I repent! I believe--do you hear?--and
repent--believe. Put that down," he added, in tones momently feebler
and more husky, as he pointed to the paper; "put that down, or--or
perhaps--Eu--génie--perhaps"--
As he spoke, the faint light that had momently kindled his glazing eye
was suddenly quenched; he remained for perhaps half a minute raised on
his elbow, and with his outstretched finger pointing towards the paper,
gazing blindly upon vacancy. Then the arm dropped, and he fell back dead!
We escaped as quickly as we could from this fearful death-room, and I
found that the deposition which Mr. White brought away with him gave a
full, detailed account, written in the French language, of the
circumstances which led to the death of Mrs. Rushton.
La Houssaye, finding that M. de Tourville had by some means discovered
the secret of his previous marriage, and that consequently all hope of
obtaining the hand of Eugénie, whom he loved with all the passion of his
fiery nature, would be gone unless De Tourville could be prevented from
communicating with his daughter, resolved to compass the old man's
instant destruction. The chevalier persuaded himself that, as he should
manage it, death would be attributed to the affection of the heart, from
which M. de Tourville had so long suffered. He procured the distilled
laurel-water--how and from whom was minutely explained--colored, flavored
it to resemble as nearly as possible the cordial which he knew M. de
Tourville--and he only--was in the habit of frequently taking. A
precisely-similar bottle he also procured--the shop at which it was
purchased was described--and when he called in King Street, he found no
difficulty, in an unobserved moment, of substituting one bottle for the
other. That containing the real cordial he was still in possession of,
and it would be found in his valise The unexpected arrival of
Mademoiselle de Tourville frustrated his design, and he rushed in fury
and dismay from the house. A few hours afterwards, he heard of the sudden
death of M. de Tourville, and attributing it to his having taken a
portion of the simulated cordial, he, La Houssaye, fearful of
consequences, hastily and secretly changed his abode. He had subsequently
kept silence till the conviction of Eugénie left him no other
alternative, if he would not see her perish on the scaffold, than a full
and unreserved confession. This done--Eugénie saved, but lost to him--he
had nothing more to live for in the world, and should leave it.
This was the essence of the document; and all the parts of it which were
capable of corroborative proof having been substantiated, a free pardon
issued from the crown--the technical mode of quashing an unjust criminal
verdict--and Mademoiselle de Tourville was restored to liberty.
She did not return to France. Something more perhaps than a year after
the demonstration of her innocence, she was married to Arthur Rushton in
the Sardinian Catholic Chapel, London, the bridegroom having by her
influence been induced to embrace the faith of Rome. The establishments
in Harley Street and Mayfair were broken up; and the newly-espoused pair
settled in the county of Galway, Ireland, where Mr. Rushton made
extensive landed purchases. They have lived very happily a long life,
have been blessed with a large and amiable family, and are now--for they
are both yet alive--surrounded with grandchildren innumerable.