THE DUMB WITNESS.
A sentiment of shame prevented my mentioning the affair of the
footprints to my tutor; and as for Marmaduke, although we were by this
time very intimate, I would not have furnished him with a new occasion
for detesting Fairburn Chase upon any account. Not only, however, was my
favourite haunt by the brook become an object of aversion to me, but I
confess I took much less delight in any part of the Heath demesne. I
kept my eyes about me, even in the great avenue, and upon the whole
preferred the rector's little garden, if at any time I had a mind for
sleeping out of doors.
"Meredith," observed Mr. Long to me one morning--he called me "Peter"
generally, but when he had anything serious to say it was
"Meredith"--"it appears to me that you don't take nearly so much
exercise as you used to do. Your appetite is failing. I am really
concerned about you."
"Thank you, sir, I am pretty well."
"Nonsense, Peter, no boy should be 'pretty well;' he should be in the
rudest, vulgarest health, or else he is in a bad way. Your good father
advised me that if you seemed the least to need it, I should get you a
nag. It is Crittenden Fair next week. What say you to my buying you a
horse?"
"Thank you, sir, that is just what I should like," cried I. "I am
certainly getting tired of walking about alone." And then I began to
blush a little, for of late rather than go into the Chase I had been
accompanying my tutor in his favourite diversion of fishing, which I
cared nothing about, or else in his parochial expeditions.
"Don't be afraid to speak out, my boy," said Mr. Long, with a kind
smile, "you will not hurt my feelings. You and I are very good friends,
but you want somebody of your own age to be your companion. Isn't that
it? And very natural too. No young gentleman, except in story-books,
enjoys the society of his tutors. Even Sandford and Merton got a little
tired of good Mr. Barlow, I fancy, he was so desperately full of
information. You want a fellow who can shy stones and climb trees."
"No, sir, indeed I don't," said I, a little indignantly; for I was
getting too old, I flattered myself, for any boyish escapades of that
sort, "But I do wish that Marmaduke was allowed to come out with me a
little more. Would not Sir Massingberd let him have a horse also?"
Mr. Long shook his head, and was silent for a little; then, as if in
continuation of his thought, he added, "And yet, I don't know, we'll go
over to the Hall and see about it this very morning."
"<i>I</i>, Sir?" inquired I in astonishment; for I had never set foot in
Doubting Castle, or seen it from any nearer spot than the Heronry.
"Did I say 'we'?" said Mr. Long, reflectively. "I didn't mean to do so,
but I really see no reason why you shouldn't come. You would wait a
considerable time if you waited for an invitation from Sir Massingberd,
but--Tush, if poor Marmaduke lives there, and yet remains a good boy,
half an hour's visit will not be the ruin of the lad." The latter part
of this remark was uttered aloud, although intended to be strictly
private, which was not an uncommon occurrence with my worthy tutor, and
I have noticed the same peculiarity in other persons of studious habits.
He led the way into the road at once, pursuing which, under the park
wall, we presently came upon a little door, which my tutor opened with a
private key. This admitted us into the wall-garden, or, as it was
sometimes called, from the quantities of that fruit which it contained,
the peach-garden. An enormous area was here entirely given up to the
cultivation of fruits; in the centre were strawberry-beds, gooseberries,
melon-beds, the glasses of which dazzled you to behold; and raspberries
upon trellis-work, on so extensive a scale that it looked like a maze.
The northern end was occupied by an enormous green-house, which, in
those days was rather a rare adjunct, even to a rich man's garden. But
the most surprising sight was that of the walls covered with
spread-eagled fruit trees, or as schoolboys then called them,
"Lawk-a-daisies," laden with the most exquisite dainties--peaches,
nectarines, apricots, and bloomy plums. A number of men were busily
employed about this teeming scene.
"Why do they say Sir Massingberd is poor?" inquired I. "Is not all this
his?"
"Yes; it is all his."
"Well, but what valuable fruit, and what enormous quantities of it! Why,
he would make a large income, even if he was to sell it."
"He does sell it," replied my tutor, smiling. "Nineteen out of twenty of
all these peaches will find their way to Covent Garden. Why, how could
he eat them, you foolish boy? Even if he gave them away to all
Fairburn, he would introduce the cholera."
"A baronet and a market gardener!" exclaimed I. "Well, that seems very
odd."
Mr. Long did not choose to inform me at that time that almost all the
income Sir Massingberd had was drawn from this source, and from the
selling of game, with which his great preserves were overflowing. The
staff of gardeners and of keepers was retained mainly upon this account.
In the interest of Marmaduke, Mr. Clint, the family lawyer, did, I
believe, contribute a certain annual sum for keeping up the gardens and
the Chase; but this was by private arrangement, and at his own risk and
responsibility. Thus it was that while some parts of the Fairburn
demesne were as admirably maintained as possible, others were suffered
to fall into decay. Just as we emerged from the wall-garden, for
instance, there was a small artificial hollow planted with trees, and
within it, peering above ground, a thatched roof covered moss and
mildew, and with great gaps and holes in it. This was the ice-house--in
these Wenham Lake and Refrigerator days an almost obsolete building, but
in the time I write of considered a necessary appendage to every country
seat. Next we entered an arcade of immense length, which the noonday
rays would have striven in vain to penetrate, but for the spaces where
the trellis-work had given way through age and neglect, and the ivy
trailed down from rusted nails, and obstructed the way. Seats were
placed in niches at unequal intervals upon one side of this arcade; but
they looked very unattractive, damp, wormeaten, cracked, and here and
there with a slug upon them, making slimy paths. Yet from one of these
alcoves there started up, while we were still a long way off, a female
figure, and stood for a moment looking at us in great surprise. Above
her happened to be one of those broken portions of the leafy roof, and
through it the sunlight poured right down in a golden flood, as a glory
sometimes does in ancient pictures. A tall dark woman, who must have
been exquisitely beautiful in her youth, and even now retained
considerable attractions; her eyes were large and lustrous, and her
hair--never even in India had I seen hair more dark, or so luxuriant. It
was not rolled tight at the back in a great pillow, as was then the
fashion, or, indeed, confined in any way, but streamed down over her
shoulders, and far below that place where it was the pleasure of our
ancestresses to consider that their waists occurred. She cast upon us at
first a glance haughty and almost defiant, but upon recognizing my
companion, quenched her fiery looks.
"Stop here, my lad," whispered Mr. Long, laying his hand firmly upon my
shoulder; "wait till she has gone away."
The woman saw the gesture, although she could not have heard the words.
"I shall not bite the boy, Mr. Long," cried she with a shrill laugh;
"however, I will make myself scarce." She took a few rapid steps to an
opening on the right of the arcade, which led to the lawn and
flower-garden, and was lost to us in a moment.
"I did not know there were any ladies at the Hall," said I.
My tutor did not answer, but walked on muttering to himself as if
annoyed. I did not repeat the remark, for I was wondering within myself
whether it could be this woman who had watched my sleep and knelt by me
dagger in hand, according to my dream. She looked just the sort of
female to drive such an instrument home, if she entertained that
fancy--a Judith, equal to the slaying of any Holofernes, and far more of
a slight built, overgrown Indian lad like me. There was certainly
something uncanny about her, and I thought it very strange that
Marmaduke had never spoken to me of her existence.
The arcade brought us out into a sunk garden, which was a rosary, on to
which opened the tall windows of a noble-looking room. The walls, I
could see, were lined with books, and on the numerous tables lay
portfolios and volumes that gave promise of great store of plates. This
was the library where Marmaduke had told me he passed his only happy
hours at Fairburn. His uncle rarely so much as entered it, although he
was not without some reputation for learning. In particular it was said
that he was well acquainted with divinity, and could quote chapter and
verse of the Bible against the parson. I have since had reason to
believe that his talents in this way were greatly exaggerated. What he
had ever read he doubtless recollected, if his memory served him as well
in literary matters as when he had a grudge to pay; but I cannot think
that he ever studied divinity. If he had any knowledge of the Bible at
all it doubtless astonished all who knew him, and they made the most of
it.
A few steps further brought us to the north face of the mansion, in
which was the principal entrance. Notwithstanding the broad sweep in
front of the steps, and the avenue branching right and left, there did
not seem space enough as contrasted with the vast mass of trees. The
scene was like a clearing in a forest, where the openings are
artificial, and the wood comes by nature rather than the converse, and
even in that September day the air struck chill. The griffins that
guarded the great stone steps had lost, the one an ear, and the other a
wing, and the steps themselves were chipped and cracked. The grass which
grew there unchecked at other seasons, had however been scraped out,
because Sir Massingberd's guests were expected immediately for the
shooting. None of them, however, had as yet arrived. The great bell
which answered our summons clanged through the place as though there had
been neither furniture nor people within it. The vast door was opened
long before its echoes ceased, and indeed with marvellous quickness.
When the man saw who we were, he looked vexed at having put himself in a
flurry without necessity. He thought doubtless it was his master who
demanded admittance, and had come post haste from the pantry, it being
very dangerous to keep the baronet waiting. We were ushered into the
great hall, and left there while the man went to seek Sir Massingberd.
This huge apartment was evidently used as a sitting-room. There were
couches and comfortable chairs in profusion, and a fine aroma of tobacco
pervaded everything. The walls were ornamented with antlers and the
heads of foxes; a number of fishing rods stood in one corner; in another
lay some of those clubs that are used for exercising the muscles. On the
table was an open pocket-book, stuck full of gorgeous artificial flies.
Presently the man reappeared. Sir Massingberd would see us in his
private sitting-room. We walked over polished oak, on which I could with
difficulty keep my footing, down a long passage hung with grim portraits
of the Heath family--"all dead and judged," as Marmaduke subsequently
informed me--until we came to a short flight of steps on the left hand;
these we descended, and following the footsteps of our conductor, in
almost perfect darkness, came upon double doors, the inner of which, a
baize one, admitted us into the presence of the proprietor. The baronet
was in his shirt-sleeves, cleaning a double-barrelled gun.
"This is my pupil, Peter Meredith," said Mr. Long.
"<i>I</i> know the young gentleman," replied Sir Massingberd, curtly, and the
horse-shoe upon his brow contracted as he spoke. "What makes you bring
him here?"
"Well, Sir Massingberd," observed my tutor, forcing a laugh, "that is
scarcely a hospitable observation. I bring this friend of your nephew's
because what I have to propose concerns them both. It is good for these
boys to be together, not to live solitary lives; and to keep them mewed
up at home, as they are now, is a positive cruelty. Marmaduke is getting
thinner and paler every day; and Meredith--"
"Do <i>you really</i> think so, parson?" asked the baronet eagerly, omitting
for a moment to use the dirty-looking piece of oiled flannel which had
previously monopolized his attention.
"I do, indeed, Sir Massingberd. I believe that if a doctor was to give
his opinion about that boy--"
"The Heaths never send for doctors, or for clergymen," interrupted the
baronet, with a sneer.
"And yet they have often needed advice, both spiritual and temporal,"
quoth my tutor, stoutly. "I say you should get a horse for your nephew's
riding; it need be no trouble to you whatever. I am going over to
Crittenden Fair next week myself to purchase one for my pupil; now, let
me get one for your nephew also."
At first Sir Massingberd's countenance expressed nothing but angry
impatience, but presently he began to rub the gun-barrel less and less
violently. "And who is to find the money?" inquired he.
"I think that can be managed, Sir Massingberd. Mr. Clint will doubtless
listen to such an application on behalf of Marmaduke; he will risk
advancing a few pounds--"
"For thirty-five guineas one can get a very good pony," observed the
baronet, reflectively.
"Or even for less," returned Mr. Long, drily; and then, to my excessive
terror, he added in quite as loud a key, "He wants to keep the
difference; that's his plan."
"And he means to do it, too," observed Sir Massingberd grimly. "No, you
needn't apologize, parson, for your thinking aloud; you don't suppose I
am going to do anything without being paid for it, do you? Then there's
the keep of the animal. Now, what will Mr. Clint allow me for that, do
you suppose? Oats and beans are very expensive, and you wouldn't have me
feed my dear nephew's pony upon hay!"
Sir Massingberd was a formidable object at all times, but I really think
he inspired more fear when he was pleased--when some wicked notion
tickled him--than even when he was in wrath.
"I think, Sir Massingberd, the question of expense can be managed to
your satisfaction," said my tutor, not a little overwhelmed by having
thus involuntarily expressed his suspicion of the baronet; "and, as I
have said, I will save you all trouble by selecting the horse myself."
"Certainly not, sir," exclaimed Sir Massingberd savagely; "I suffer no
man to choose my horses for me."
"Very good," replied Mr. Long, biting his lip. "I have only to
stipulate, then, that if your nephew gets the horse, he is to ride it. I
shall have to make myself answerable for that much to Mr. Clint."
"Oh, he shall ride it," quoth the baronet, with a horrid imprecation;
"you may take your oath of that. And by the by, since you are here,
parson, I want to have some talk with you about that same fellow Clint,
who has been behaving devilish ill to me, I think. You may go away,
young gentleman, <i>you</i> may. You'll find your future riding companion--he
has about as much notion of riding as old Grimjaw yonder--sulking in his
own room, I dare say. Grimjaw, show the young gentleman up to
Marmaduke's room."
At these words a dog of horrible aspect came out from under the very
sofa on which I sat, and trotted off towards the door. He was the oldest
and ugliest dog I ever beheld. He had only one eye, which was green; he
had no teeth, and was therefore not to be feared as a combatant; but his
aspect was loathsome and repulsive to the last degree. The people of
Fairburn imagined this animal to be Sir Massingberd's familiar demon,
and, until of late years, when the creature had become incapacitated by
age from accompanying him much, the two were scarcely ever seen apart.
Old as he was, however, the hideous Grimjaw had some instinct left,
which, after the word "Marmaduke" had been once more shrieked at him,
caused him painfully to precede me up the oak staircase, and along
another gallery to a chamber door, at which he sat and whined. This was
immediately opened by his young master, who, with a "Come in, Grim,"
was only giving sufficient space for the entrance of the dog, when I
cried out, laughing: "What, have you no welcome for your friend? Like
uncle, like nephew! What a pair of curmudgeons inhabit Fairburn Hall!"
The astonishment of Marmaduke at hearing my voice was excessive.
Notwithstanding his pleasure, his first thought, as usual, was: "Did Sir
Massingberd know?"
"Yes," said I coolly; "of course he knows. He received me down-stairs
with his usual politeness. Mr. Long and he are conversing upon some
private matters, so I came up here to see you. It is arranged that each
of us is to have a horse, and that we are to go out riding together."
"A horse! Oh, impossible!" exclaimed Marmaduke, clapping his hands.
"How did the good parson ever persuade my uncle? What <i>did</i> he give
him?"
I could not help laughing at this naïve inquiry, which my friend had
made in perfect seriousness. I told him all that had occurred, including
our tutor's <i>vivâ-voce</i> soliloquy, at which Marmaduke cried "Heavens!"
in terror.
"It is marvellous, notwithstanding, that my uncle should have
consented," observed my companion, musing. "He told me, indeed, that I
should be a great nuisance in the house this month, while his friends
were down here shooting; but that he should have entered into an
arrangement which gives me pleasure as well as gets rid of me, that
seems so very strange."
"He has doubtless some base motive," returned I smiling: "let us console
ourselves with that reflection. But what have we here? Water-colour
paintings! Why have you never told me you were an artist?"
"I merely amuse myself with the paint-brush. I have had no lessons, of
course, so that my perspective is quite Chinese."
"Nay, but I recognize almost all these scenes!"
"Well, you know, I have been nowhere else but at Fairburn, so that it is
from thence I must take my subjects. The one you have there is taken
from the bend in the stream beyond the Heronry."
"It is admirable," said I; and indeed it was so like the scene of my
dream, that it gave me a shudder.
"Would you like to have it," replied Marmaduke carelessly. "You may take
any that the portfolio contains. I only wish they were more worth your
acceptance."
"Thank you," said I nervously. "I will certainly take this one, then;"
and I rolled the sketch tightly up, and placed it in my pocket. "But
here is a pretty face! Why, Master Marmaduke, you have your secrets, I
see; you have never mentioned to me this young lady. What beautiful
hair! The eyes, too, how glorious, and yet how tender! It is surely not
the lady whom we just met in the ar--"
"Silence, sir!" cried Marmaduke, in a voice of thunder. His face was
lurid with rage, and for the first time I remarked upon his forehead a
faint reflection of the horse-shoe that made so terrible the brow of his
uncle. "Do not speak of that wretched woman in the same breath with,
with--" He did not complete the sentence, but added in his usual soft
musical tones: "Pardon me, my friend; I am sorry to have been so hasty;
but that picture is the portrait of my mother."
"It was stupid in me not to have known that at once," said I. "The
likeness is most remarkable."
"But not the expression," returned he sadly. "I know that just now I
looked like one of my own race. She was always an angel, even when she
was upon earth." And the boy looked up with his hands clasped, as though
he beheld her, through his tears, in heaven.
"Did you paint that from a picture, Marmaduke?"
"No, from memory. Sleeping or waking, I often see her sweet face."
I had evidently raised by my thoughtlessness a long train of melancholy
thoughts in my companion. The situation was embarrassing, and I did not
know how to escape from it. As often happens with well-intentioned but
blundering persons, I made the most inopportune remark that could be
framed. Forgetting what I had heard of the infamous treatment which
Mrs. Heath had received while under her brother-in-law's roof, I
observed: "Your mother was once at Fairburn, was she not? That should at
least make the Hall more endurable to you."
Again Marmaduke's handsome face was disfigured with concentrated
passion. "Yes, she was here," returned he, speaking through his teeth.
"For what she suffered alone, the place would be cursed. Coward,
scoundrel! Why does God suffer such men to live?" It was terrible to see
how like this young lad grew to the man he was execrating. He went on
using such language as I could not have conceived him capable of
employing.
"Marmaduke," said I, soothingly, "for Heaven's sake, be calm. Providence
will one day reward this man; it is not for you to Curse him. Come, now
that I pay you a visit for the first time, you should play the host,
and show me over the mansion. Why, that queer old dog seems to
understand what one says; he rises as though he were the châtelain, and
kept the keys of Doubting Castle. He brought me here as true as a blind
man's cur. I cannot say, however, that he is beautiful; he is hideous,
weird."
"It would be strange, indeed, if he were like other dogs," returned
Marmaduke gravely. "He is the sole living repository of a most frightful
secret. If he could but speak, he could perhaps send a man to the
gallows."
"What man?" exclaimed I. "Pray explain to me this mystery."
"I do not know what man," returned my companion solemnly; "I only
conjecture. I will relate to you what is known of the matter, and you
shall judge for yourself."
Marmaduke opened the door, to see that no one was in the passage
without, and then seating himself close beside me, commenced as
follows:--"My grandfather and the present baronet lived on bad terms
with one another. For the last ten years of his life, Sir Wentworth and
his eldest son never met--but once--if they met at all. He had been very
profligate and extravagant in his young days; but in his old age he grew
miserly. When my father saw him last, it was in a small house in Bedford
Place, in London, where he lived in a couple of ill-furnished rooms, and
without a servant. Grimjaw and he slept there alone, but a charwoman
came in every morning for a few hours. Sir Wentworth then gave it as his
reason for this kind of life, that he was retrenching, in order to leave
some suitable provision for his second son. 'Look here, Gilbert,' said
he upon one occasion to my father; 'I have begun to lay by for you
already; and he showed him a quantity of bank-notes, amounting to
several thousand pounds. He had never been an affectionate parent, or
exhibited any self-denial for the benefit of his sons; and my father did
not believe him. He thanked him, of course; but he came away without any
idea that he would be really better off at Sir Wentworth's death. This
was fortunate for him, for he never received a farthing; but I am not so
certain as he was that the baronet did not intend to do what he
promised. While the old man was living in this sordid fashion, his son
Massingberd was passing his time very gaily at court. He played high,
and there were few who could beat him with the cards--but there were
some. It is no use being a good player, you see, unless you are the
best; you only win from those whom you can beat, to lose it in your turn
to the man who can beat you. Thus it was with my uncle, who played, as
I say, high with everybody, but highest, as is often the case, with his
superiors in skill. However, he paid his debts of honour with money
raised at an enormous sacrifice. He lived well, but it was upon his
future prospects. At last, being harder pressed than usual, he wrote to
his father--the first letter he had penned to him for years--and
demanded pecuniary help.
"Sir Wentworth wrote back a cynical, harsh reply, a copy of which I have
seen--for all these details came out in the course of the inquest. He
bade his son come to call upon him, and judge from his style of living
whether he was in a condition to comply with his request. He appointed a
day and an hour--about five o'clock. It was in December, and quite dark
of course by that time. At six o'clock on the appointed day, Sir
Massingberd--for he had got his title by that time, whether he knew it
or not--called at the police-station near Bedford Place, and gave
information that the house which his father occupied was shut up, and
that he could not obtain admittance, although he had arrived there by
appointment. The house was always shut up they told him, although not
untenanted; they could not explain why his summons had not been
answered. A couple of policemen accompanied him to break open the door.
While they were thus engaged, a dog howled at them from inside. My uncle
had made no mention of having heard this before. There was only one lock
to force, the door being neither bolted nor chained, and they soon got
in. The only two furnished rooms in the house opened upon the hall. In
the sleeping room they found my grandfather dressed, but lying on the
bed quite dead--suffocated, as the surgeons subsequently averred. In
the sitting-room, with which it communicated, they found this dog here,
crouching on the top of the mantel-piece, which was very lofty. How he
got there, nobody could tell; if he leaped thither, even from a chair,
it must have been in an agony of terror. He was whining pitifully when
they entered; but upon seeing my uncle, he ceased to whimper, and
absolutely seemed to shrink into himself with fear. Poor Grimjaw could
give no witness at the inquest, however; so the jury returned an open
verdict. It was probable that Sir Wentworth had had a fit of apoplexy,
which carried him off."
"Well," said I, "and is not that probable enough?"
"Yes; but it could not have carried off the bank-notes--which were all
gone---likewise. Could it Grimjaw?"
Thus appealed to, the ancient dog set up a quavering howl, which might
easily have been mistaken for the cry of an accusing spirit.
"Good Heavens! this is too horrible," cried I. "Be careful, Marmaduke,
that you do not mention this to others. It is a frightful slander."
"Slander!" returned my companion calmly. "It is you who slander, if you
suspect anybody. I have only told you what everybody knew at the time
the mur...--well, then, when Sir Wentworth had his fit. The thing
strikes you as it does me, that is all."
"But is it not inconceivable," urged I, "if the crime was committed by
the person we are thinking of, that he should retain this dumb witness
of his atrocity, that he should let it live, far less should keep it in
his private sitting-room--"
"No!" interrupted Marmaduke firmly. "On the contrary, it strengthens my
suspicions. You do not know the man as I do. It gives him gratification
to subdue even a dog. This creature has no love for my uncle; but its
excessive terror of him, which endured for months, nay, years, has
gradually worn off. He obeys him now; whereas, as I have been told, it
was long before it could do anything but shiver at the sound of his
voice. After dinner, when I have been sitting with Sir Massingberd
alone, he will sometimes give the dog a biscuit, saying with an awful
smile: "Here, Grimjaw; you and I know something that nobody else knows;
don't we?"
"Great Heavens!" cried I in horror; "and what does he do that for?"
"Because," replied Marmaduke bitterly, "he loves to see me tremble."