A VAIN PURSUIT.
For nearly a mile Sophy ran, hope and excitement lending her unnatural
strength and speed. Then for a little time she broke into a walk,
drawing her breath in short quick sobs. She looked round as she stopped
running, but there was no light on the road behind her, nothing to tell
of pursuit. Before she had walked a hundred yards, she again turned, and
far behind her along the straight road she saw the two bright lights,
and felt that it was the gig in pursuit, felt, too, that she could never
reach Canterbury before she was overtaken. She turned again to run, for
her only thought now was of flight. On one side of the road ran a deep
dyke full of water, on the other the country was open, so that had she
thought of leaving the road and concealing herself, she could still have
done so. But no such thought entered her mind; her only hope was to gain
the town in time, or if overtaken to defend the will with her life.
Could she have run with her former speed, she would have been there, but
her breath came short and hard, and she could scarcely keep at a pace
beyond a walk. Once or twice she looked wildly over her shoulder. The
lights gained fast, terribly fast, upon her; she had not much farther to
go, but she felt that before that little was past, the gig would be up
to her. She could hear the sound of wheels, and of the galloping horse
behind her, but the barracks were close to her now, and if she could but
enter them she would be safe; but the gig was gaining too fast upon her,
and as she reached the corner of the barracks it was just behind her.
She stopped suddenly in the middle of the road, and before the horse
could be pulled up he was almost upon her. She levelled her pistol and
fired in his face; she did not wound him, but startled, by the flash and
report close to his eyes, the animal reared up, struck wildly out with
its forefeet, and then wheeling round, dashed back at full speed, along
the road it had come. Sophy continued her flight: on through the
turnpike the bar of which stood across the road; along by the side of
the long iron railings, and past the closed entrance to the cavalry
barracks; she could hear her pursuers behind her again, but feeble and
slow as her pace was now, she felt that she was saved. Breathless and
faint, stumbling and nearly falling, she held on as far as the gate of
the infantry barracks. It was open, and a party of officers were just
coming in from the town.
She was but just in time; for she could hear footsteps following fast
behind her, for on reaching the gate Father Eustace had not waited for
it to be opened, but had leaped out and had run on on foot. Sophy did
not hesitate a moment, but rushed in among the group of officers. She
clung to the one nearest to her, with a hoarse cry, and panted out,
"Save me! I am a woman; I am Mr. Harmer's grand-daughter, and this is
his will: don't give it up--don't let him have it--don't let"--and Sophy
sank in a lifeless heap at the officers' feet. When she first began to
speak, there had been a general exclamation of astonishment, but now
they all clustered round her, and the eldest of them raised her from the
ground. He had hardly done so, when the group was broken again, and
Father Eustace burst in among them: "I charge you to deliver that man up
to me; he is a thief--he has stolen a deed, a document of value. Ah!" he
exclaimed suddenly, seeing it in the hand of the officer, into whose
hold Sophy had thrust it when she came in, and who still retained it in
his hand, although hardly knowing that he did so, so surprised and
bewildered were they all by this strange scene.
"You have it--give it to me, sir," and he made an effort to snatch at
it.
"No, no, sir," the officer said. "The priest or woman, or whatever it
is, begged me to keep it, and I don't even know that it belongs to you;
what do you say, major?"
"Certainly not," said the officer who was porting Sophy; "by no means,
Featherstone. This is a serious matter."
Father Eustace again made an effort to possess himself of the will. He
saw the labour of years slipping from him now, and he would have stopped
at nothing to regain the will. He again pushed forward, exclaiming--
"It is my paper--it is my paper; she has stolen it. You dare not keep it
from me."
"Stand back, sir," the young officer who was holding the will said, "or
else, priest or no priest, down you go."
"Sir," the major said, "violence will do no good here, nor are we likely
to be alarmed at your threats. This is a very serious affair. I was
stationed here eight years ago, and I was then often over at Mr.
Harmer's, and knew his grand-daughter well. I do not know whether this
person dressed as a man is she, but I have heard that she ran away many
years ago, and that at Mr. Harmer's death the will which would have made
her his heiress was missing. For aught I know that paper which she has
just brought in may be the will after all. Hold it up to the light,
Featherstone, and see what it says."
"By Jove, major!" the young officer said, examining it, "it is endorsed
'The last will and testament of Herbert Harmer,' sure enough."
"It is a forgery," the priest broke out, "it is an infamous forgery. I
insist on having it. I warn you at your peril, sir, to detain it."
"I will take the risk of that, sir," the major said coolly; "and as you
say it was stolen from you, it is evident that the forgery, if it be
one, was not committed by this person here. Your own words convict you,
sir. There, say no more. My name is Charteris--Major Charteris, and any
charge you may bring against this lady, for so I believe her to be, I
will be responsible that she shall appear to answer it, and I will hold
this will till it is proved who is the proper person to take charge of
it. I have nothing more to say, sir. Hankey, help me to carry this lady
up to my rooms. Leighton, I wish you would run up to the mess-room, and
ask the doctor to come round to my quarters at once."
And so the officers moved off in a body, talking among themselves of the
strange event, the two priests, one a woman, and the will, which seemed
of such importance. "'Pon my soul, it's quite a romance;" and so talking
they went up towards their barracks, leaving the priest standing, rigid
and ghastly, looking after them. How long he might have stood there,
with a strange whirl of despairing thoughts surging up in his heart, I
cannot say. He stood there till the sergeant of the guard who had heard
all that had passed, after speaking to him twice, and receiving no
answer, came up and touched him on the shoulder, and said--
"I am going to close the gate, sir."
The priest looked at him for a moment as if not understanding him, then
he threw up his hands despairingly, and with a low moaning cry, turned
round and went out as if in a dream. Mechanically he got up into his gig
which was standing there, and then with a wild hopeless look in his
eyes, he cowered down, while his servant drove the weary horse off into
the darkness again.
Major Charteris was a married man, and his wife at once took charge of
Sophy, and with the maid's assistance undressed the insensible woman and
put her into bed, by which time the doctor arrived. But it was a long
time before she showed any signs of returning consciousness.
Presently the major went down into the mess-room where the other
officers were sitting, discussing this singular adventure, smoking many
cigars and pipes over their consultation, and making various bets as to
the result. His entrance was greeted with a shout--
"Well, major, how is the fair priest?"
"She is very ill," the major said seriously, "she has recovered from her
faint, but she is quite unconscious, and the doctor talks about brain
fever."
"Is she Mr. Harmer's grand-daughter, major?"
"I cannot say for certain, Featherstone, although I should think that
she is, but she is so changed I should not have known her again in the
least; besides, all her hair is cut close."
"Let us hear all you know about it, major. What was the will about?"
"I left here nearly a year before Mr. Harmer's death, so I do not know
much about it. But I remember at that time it was stated that he had
left his property between this girl, whose name was Sophy, and the
children of a Dr. Ashleigh. By the way, that reminds me, I met Miss
Ashleigh in the High Street only yesterday. I knew her again directly,
and some one told me she was living with an old woman named
Mapleback--no Mapleside, or something of that sort, in the terrace
looking over the market. I know she was a great friend of Sophy's, for
we used to talk a good deal about it at that time, as this Sophy was the
great heiress of the county. I will go up at once, and get her to come
down to the poor woman."
"But, major, it is half-past twelve."
"I can't help that," the major said; "it is right the poor woman,
whether she be this Sophy or not, should have her friends by her if
possible; besides, if this will is correct--which I have no doubt, or
the priest would not be so anxious about it--it is but right that Miss
Ashleigh should know of it, as if I remember rightly her share is twenty
or thirty thousand pounds."
"By Jove!" one of them said, as the major went out, "I wish that some
one would wake me up to-night and tell me I had come into a fortune."
And so they continued talking the matter over while Major Charteris went
down into the town.
It was about one o'clock when I was woke up by a loud knocking at the
door. I thought it must be a mistake, but after a minute it was
repeated. I got up and went to the window, and heard Hannah moving
overhead. In another minute I heard her throw up her window and ask,--
"What is the matter?"
Then I heard a man's voice below saying,--
"I am really very sorry to disturb you, but does not Miss Ashleigh live
here?"
"Yes she does," Hannah said; "but what do you want at this time of
night?"
"My name is Major Charteris. I must speak to Miss Ashleigh at once. It
is a matter of great importance, almost of life and death, or I would
not disturb her at this hour. Please give her my message."
I had struck a light by this time, and began dressing hurriedly. What
could he want? what could be the matter? I opened the door and called
out to Hannah to put on her things at once, and that I would be ready in
five minutes. I do not think I was ever so puzzled in my life as I was
while I was dressing at that time. I could not form the slightest
conjecture what it could be about--not the slightest. If I had not heard
him speak, and listened to his regular tramp as he walked up and down
outside, I should have thought that he must have been drinking, and that
all this must be some tipsy frolic. But the earnest, steady tones of his
voice precluded the possibility of this supposition; and I really could
form no other. I do not think I was more than five minutes dressing, and
putting my hair in a net, and just as I was ready I heard Hannah coming
downstairs. I went out of my room, and down into the parlour. I lit the
two candles on the mantelpiece, and then stood anxiously waiting while
Hannah unbolted the front door; in another minute the major entered.
"Miss Ashleigh," he began at once, "I had the pleasure of knowing you
some years ago, and I trust that you are assured that I would not
needlessly disturb you at this time of the night; but I am sure you will
excuse my so doing when you know the cause. You were once great friends,
I believe, with Mr. Harmer's grand-daughter,--do you know where she is
now?"
"I must first know why you ask, Major Charteris."
"I ask, because at the present moment there is a woman in my quarters in
barracks; how she got there I will tell you presently--she is in charge
of my wife. She says she is Mr. Harmer's grand-daughter; but whether
truly or not, I cannot say. If she is, she is so much altered that I
should not have known her."
"Yes, yes," I said, "no doubt it is Sophy. I know she is in this part of
the country; but what is the matter with her? and how came she in the
barracks?"
"She came in for refuge, Miss Ashleigh; she was dressed as a Roman
Catholic priest."
"As a priest!" I exclaimed, astonished.
"Yes, indeed, Miss Ashleigh; and what is most curious, she was followed
by a real priest, to escape from whom she took refuge in the barracks; I
should not have disturbed you, but she has had a fainting fit, and is
now delirious; and I am afraid, by what our doctor says, in a state of
great danger. It struck me that you, being connected with Mr. Harmer,
might know if it were really his grand-daughter, and, if so, might wish
to come to her; so I thought it my duty to come and inform you at once,
in spite of the strangeness of the hour."
"I am very much obliged to you, Major Charteris," I said, "very much.
Poor Sophy, what must she have gone through! So this is the end of her
search."
"Although I do not know, Miss Ashleigh, exactly to what you allude, I
believe from what I know of the circumstances, and from what the poor
lady said to-night, that one consequence has arisen which will, I think,
affect you. I have in my rooms a document which she brought with her,
and which seemed to be the object of the priest's pursuit. It purports
to be the will of the late Mr. Harmer."
"The lost will!" I exclaimed, sitting down in utter astonishment. "Is it
possible that Sophy has at last found Mr. Harmer's will?"
"She has, indeed, Miss Ashleigh; at least if I may judge from the
appearance and the endorsement upon it. I believe I have to congratulate
you upon its discovery--have I not?"
"You may, indeed," I said. "It leaves me a fortune. However, at present
I must think of poor Sophy. I should like to go to her, Major Charteris,
very much."
"Mrs. Charteris begged me to say that she hoped you would do so, Miss
Ashleigh. Indeed your presence would be a great relief to her, and would
take the responsibility off her shoulders. My wife will endeavour to
make it as comfortable for you as possible."
"Thank you very much, major; I will go with you at once. Will you be
kind enough to wait a few minutes while I awake Mrs. Mapleside, and
explain to her what has happened."
Major Charteris assented, and I went out into the hall, where Hannah
had, according to my instructions, waited during the interview, and I
astonished her, even more than she had been before, by telling her to go
upstairs and put on her things, for that she was to go up to the
barracks with me at once. I believe she thought I was mad, and I was
obliged to leave her in that belief, as I had no time to enter into
explanations with her on this subject. Then I went up to Mrs.
Mapleside's door, and knocked. I was a long time making her hear, for
she was a heavy sleeper, and had not been disturbed by all this noise
and confusion. When I did make her hear, and she got up and unlocked her
door and let me in, I had the greatest difficulty in assuring her that
the house was not on fire. Her fears on that point allayed, I had still
greater trouble in explaining to her what was really the matter; that
Sophy Gregory was lying dangerously ill in the barracks, and that the
will was found. All this was for a long time quite incomprehensible to
Mrs. Mapleside, who did not know that Sophy was in that part of the
country, or that I had seen or heard from her for years.
When she was at last made to understand it, and to know that I was going
to inherit a fortune after all, the dear old lady got into the wildest
state of excitement and congratulation, and was only calmed down by my
speaking of Sophy's illness; after that I had great difficulty in
dissuading her from getting up and accompanying me. However, at last I
quieted her, and arranged to take Hannah with me, and to send her back
at seven o'clock in the morning.
I also impressed very seriously upon her that it was absolutely
necessary that she should not breathe a word of all this to a soul; we
should endeavour to arrange the whole affair with as little scandal and
talk as possible, and therefore it would be most distasteful to all our
feelings if the thing was to get abroad. The old lady promised secrecy,
and on this occasion I believe really kept her word.
I dressed myself quickly, and then went out with Hannah and the major,
and walked to the barracks. On the way the major related at length to me
all the occurrences of the night, and from what he told me I could
nearly guess how it had all come about.
It felt very strange walking through the streets at that time of night;
the major had indeed volunteered to call them up at one of the hotels
and get a vehicle for me, but I knew that this would take at least an
hour, and so I preferred, strange as it was, walking; it felt still more
strange going into the barracks. However, when Major Charteris
introduced me to his wife, who received me very kindly, and at once took
me in to the room where Sophy was lying, all feelings of strangeness
past off, and I forgot everything in the poor girl before me. She was in
a terrible state of delirium, and it was at times almost more than
Hannah and I could do to keep her down. Her appearance was shocking: her
pale cheeks, with a patch of red in their centres, her wild staring
eyes, her closely cut hair, the strange streaks of paint upon her face,
made her dreadful to see; while her wild screams of terror as she tried
to fly from some pursuer, rang in my ears for weeks. All night long she
continued to rehearse what she had gone through the evening before. Now
she was arguing with Miss Harmer, now discovering the will, then
listening to the pursuing gig, and then her screams would break out
again, and she would writhe in agonies of terror. It was a dreadful
night, and I shall never forget it. The doctor never left the room, and
Mrs. Charteris came in from time to time, and brought me in some tea,
for which I felt very grateful. Towards morning the powerful opiates
which the doctor had given her began to take effect, and she sank into a
troubled doze.
It was quite impossible, of course, to think of Sophy being moved, and I
was very sorry for the dreadful trouble to which we were putting our
kind entertainers. However, they would not hear of its being any
inconvenience to them, and as it was evident that it might be some
considerable time before she could be moved, they gave us up entire
possession of their rooms, and moved into the quarters of another
married officer in the same building, who happened to be away on leave
with his wife. At seven o'clock I sent Hannah home, and got a regular
nurse to come in and be with me. I should, I think, have sent for Polly,
but she was daily expecting her confinement, and I was to have gone up
the very next day to have stayed with her.
At eight o'clock in the morning I sent up a telegram to Mr. Petersfield,
asking him to come down to me by the first train, as the will was found,
and telling him that he would find me by inquiring for Major Charteris,
at the barracks. He came down soon after one o'clock. He was astonished
at the will being found, and was, I believe, almost as pleased as I was
at the discovery. He was most anxious to know how it was found, and I
told him all I knew about Sophy's coming down in disguise and entering
into the service of Father Eustace, also what I had gleaned from her
ravings during the night, and the fact of her pursuit and taking refuge
in the barracks.
Mr. Petersfield was delighted with the story, and said that it was a
thousand pities that she had not been born a detective.
We then proceeded to business, and the will was formally opened by Mr.
Petersfield, in the presence of Major and Mrs. Charteris, the doctor,
and myself. The lawyer at once declared it to be the genuine document,
as he knew the handwriting in which it was drawn up, and could swear to
the signatures of his late partner, and of a clerk, still in his office,
who were the attesting witnesses. It was couched precisely in the terms
which Mr. Harmer had told papa years before, L20,000 to various
charities, and the rest, about L150,000, half to Sophy, and the
remaining half between Harry, Polly, and me. The only proviso in it with
which we were not previously acquainted was, that Harmer Place, with the
exception of the chapel, was to be pulled down. The estate itself was
specially mentioned as part of Sophy's share, she might sell it if she
wished, but if she resided there it was to be in a new house, which he
expressly provided was not to be called Harmer Place.
When Mr. Petersfield had finished, he folded up the will, came over and
shook my hand, and congratulated me formally, and said that he hoped to
continue to act for me as his firm had done so many years for this
estate. I laughed, and said that I thought I had sufficient confidence
in him to intrust it to his care. He then asked me what I should wish in
the matter. I said that at any rate I should wish nothing done until
Miss Harmer's death, that she was not expected to live for a week, and
that she must not be disturbed; but with that exception I gave him
_carte blanche_.
He said that in that case, as soon as he heard of Miss Harmer's death,
he should proceed to prove the will, and that he should then notify the
firm in London who had acted as the Miss Harmers' solicitors since their
brother's death, that the will was in his hands, and that they could
inspect it at his office; and he should call upon them to deliver up all
the late Mr. Harmer's property in conformity with its provisions, with
all accumulations.
I objected to this last point, but Mr. Petersfield pointed out to me
that Miss Harmer had certainly not spent more than her own income, and
that, therefore, the interest of all this property had been
accumulating, and would, if we did not claim it, undoubtedly go by her
will to the Romish Church. To this I assented, and he returned to London
the same evening in the highest spirits, taking the will with him.
I wrote that afternoon to Polly, telling her the news, and
congratulating her as well as myself upon it, and saying that could I
have left Sophy, I would have gone up to London at once. I also wrote to
Ada, who would I knew be as pleased at the great discovery as I was
myself, as it removed any possible feeling of dislike on the part of
Lady Desborough to my marriage with Percy, which now promised to turn
out, after all, to the satisfaction of all parties.