"Perhaps Annie will be kinder now."
I read it by the fast fading light, and knew well enough whose hand had
dealt the dastardly stab; but when I looked up, both Fred and French
were gone.
Mine was to be a bitter task that night, and I stayed for quite an hour
before I could summon resolution for my journey home. I had some miles
to go, for our place lay at a distance from the county town; and I
started at length, having quite given up the idea of breaking the news
to Annie. I felt that I dared not; and on reaching my lodgings I sent a
note; but a message came back that I must go on directly.
I went on to the cottage, and then found that the news had been less
tardy than myself, for the servant girl had heard it in the town an hour
before, and told them upon her return.
Upon hearing the fatal tidings poor Annie had gently slipped from her
chair, and remained insensible for some time, but the doctor was then
with her.
One, two, three sad days passed, and on the fourth I stood on one side
of her bed with my knees trembling beneath me; for young and
inexperienced as I then was, I knew that an awful change was taking
place. It was evening, and the setting sun sent a glow of unearthly
brightness to her sweet calm face as I stood there half blind with
tears, while my poor aunt sobbed audibly.
But why prolong the sad tale? Once the dying girl opened her eyes and
smiled upon her mother, and then turned them towards me, when her pale
lips formed themselves to kiss me, even as would those of a child. I
leant over her, and pressed my lips to hers, and as I did so, there was
a faint sigh, and I felt myself drawn away.
Five days after I again stood to take a farewell look of poor Annie as
she lay in the dim shadowy room in her narrow coffin, with her crossed
arms folding a tiny form to her breast. Cold--cold--cold! Mother and
child. The breast that should have warmed the little bud, icy--
pulseless; and as I stood there with a strange awe upon me, I could but
whisper, for they seemed to sleep.
We laid them where you stood to-night, love; and on returning, sad and
broken-hearted, to the little parlour--now so lonely and deserted, we
found that Ellen the servant had suddenly left; and that, too, without
assigning any reason. But we had too much to think of then to pay
attention to a domestic inconvenience, though often afterwards it was
recalled.
I dared not trust myself to convey the sad news to my brother, for as
yet he was in ignorance of poor Annie's death. We had kept it back,
hesitating whether to tell him at all at such a time, when sorrow had
bowed him down; but at length I wrote to him, and with a letter from my
aunt, inclosed it to the chaplain of the county gaol, begging of him to
try and prepare my poor brother for the dreadful shock.
I felt now that we had all drained the cup of bitterness; and in the
incidents of the past month, years upon years seemed to have been added
to my life. But the dregs of the cup had yet to be partaken of; for on
the second day after sending my letter, I was summoned to see my
brother, and I went with foreboding at my heart, and a voice seeming to
whisper to me--"Thank God that you are orphans!"
Upon reaching the prison I was shown into the chaplain's private room,
and his looks told me what his first words confirmed. He spoke long and
earnestly, and with a tender sympathy I could not have expected. But at
last I begged that I might see my poor brother, and he led me to his
cell.
Coming from the bright glare of a sunlit room, it was some time before
my eyes became accustomed to the half twilight of the bar-windowed cell;
and then, half blind with tears, but with my eyes hot and burning, I
looked upon the pallid bloodless form of poor Fred, for he was found on
the previous night just as he breathed his last sigh in the words,
"Annie--pardon!"--having forestalled the will of God by his own hand.
The grass had not had time to send forth its first shoot upon Annie's
grave ere it was disturbed, and again I stood by the sad opening, heard
that hollow rattle of the earth, and then, as chief mourner, walked
sadly away wondering what new calamity could fall upon me.
I entered the cottage once more, and was not surprised to hear wild and
bitter sobs in the little parlour, and for a while I forbore to enter;
but a wild cry, almost a shriek of woe, startled me, and I went in.
There at my aunt's feet--crushed and hopeless--lay a figure, tearing her
dishevelled hair, weeping, moaning, and praying for forgiveness; asking
whether it were possible that such a wretch could ever obtain pardon.
At first I hardly recognised the wild, bloodshot-eyed face that appealed
now to me, now to my aunt, and then called wildly upon the dead to
forgive her; and then I saw it was my brother's servant.
By degrees I learned that the poor wretch had yielded to the
persuasions, and bribes, and cajolery of French; and then from the power
he had over her, she had obtained for him that fatal desk, and then at
his command replaced it. He had made her swear by the most fearful
oaths not to betray the secret, and then the poor wretch had been
compelled to watch step by step the dreadful progress of the tragedy,
till at last half crazed with terror at the misery she had by her
weakness caused, she fled from the house. Then came the news of my
brother's death, when she could bear no more, and after once again
seeing French and telling him her intention, she had thrown herself at
my aunt's feet and confessed all.
Too late--too late--to bring back life and happiness; but not too late
to thrust dishonour from my brother's grave. I rushed frantically to
the office to denounce French; and, boy as I was, I should have taken
him by the throat, but he was not there. Breathlessly I told the
brothers all; but, for awhile, the narrative seemed so extravagant, that
they looked upon me as mad. But upon knowing the truth of my statement,
they were prompt in their endeavours to obtain justice upon the base
villain who had brought those young hearts to a premature grave.
Too late--too late. French had fled, whither no one knew; but if a
man--if a human heart beat within his breast, he must have carried a
fearful punishment with him.
Twenty years since then I have served Ranee Brothers; and you can tell a
little of the kindness and consideration they have always shown me;
while I suppose I begin the new year as a member of the firm.
And do you wonder now that I should have grown into a staid and quiet
man--that people should call me reserved--and that grey hairs should
already have appeared in my head?
But what are these, Minnie? Tears, love? Come, light the candles; we
must have no more tales told in the dusk.