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 3-; 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE 
 
 ^ Ucto ^eatanb Romance 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVER H. GROWDEX 
 
 GEORGE ROBERTSON AND COMPANY 
 
 LONDON 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 SYDNEY 
 ADELAIDE 
 
 1892
 
 Printed in England by 
 E. CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY.
 
 Stack 
 Annex 
 
 3 H 2. 
 ^ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART PAGE 
 
 I. A WIFE'S CONFESSION ... ... ... ... 1 
 
 II. A WIFE'S CONFESSION (continued} ... ... 81 
 
 III. IN WHICH THE AUTHOR TAKES UP THE STUHV 123 
 
 IV. THE REDMAYNE CASE... ... ... ... 152 
 
 V. THE ENLIGHTENMENT OF MATTHEW REDMAYNE 160 
 
 VI. WHY SCYTHE-BEARER DID NOT RUN FOR THE CUP 210 
 
 VII. THE NIGHT OF THE ELEVENTH JUNE ... 241 
 
 Mil. "NO SUCH THING AS CHANCE" 253
 
 MATTHEW EEDMAYNE. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 A WIFE'S CONFESSION. 
 
 " MY DEAR HUSBAND, 
 
 " When you read this your wife of a day will be 
 dead. I cannot convey to you how earnestly I wish you 
 to credit what I am about to say. I could not rest in 
 my grave if I thought the disgrace which has covered 
 me in my lifetime should rest upon my memory when I 
 am gone. Think of me as speaking from the dead ; and 
 remember that however improbable some of the things I 
 relate may seem, I am not likely to write anything but the 
 truth now, and least of all would I think of doing so to 
 you. 
 
 " It is part of my diary the only part bearing upon 
 those facts of which I know you must so intensely desire 
 to learn the truth. As it was written then, so it remains 
 now. 
 
 " Since the day when I was dragged from before you in 
 the cabin of your yacht, I have never known a happy hour. 
 It was a heavy burden that was laid upon my shoulders 
 then ; and never for a moment has it been lifted from them. 
 You believed me guilty and oh ! my dear, dear Matthew, 
 it was in that that the bitterness of it lay. Everything 
 has been against me ; every one has believed me to be a 
 guilty, wicked woman, and I dared not open my lips to 
 defend myself. The trial came on ; evidence was piled up
 
 2 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 against me ; there was not a man or woman in the land 
 that did not condemn me. I saw it in the faces of the 
 gaping crowd that came every day to stare at me ; in the 
 stern looks of the judge, the jury everywhere. I wonder 
 I did not go mad. I have sometimes wished they had 
 found me guilty, for then I should have escaped the slow 
 torture I have endured since. 
 
 " And yet I was innocent. 
 
 " I might have cleared myself, but I could not bring 
 myself to do it. It was not that I was careless of life ; on 
 the contrary, I had the one thing that should have made 
 life happy. I knew then, as well I know now, what I was 
 giving up ; but there was only one thing that weighed with 
 me and that was your love, my dear Matthew, for I may 
 call you so now. I made the choice ; and had I my life to 
 live over again, I could not but choose to do the same again. 
 Believe me, I had a reason for what I did ; and, much as 
 you must have suffered, before you have read to the end 
 of this Confession you will admit it was no light reason. 
 
 " The struggle to contain myself in silence has been a 
 hard one for me. I have often heard about you. The 
 world is a small place after all, and it has come to my ears 
 in many chance ways how you have lived since that fatal 
 epoch in our lives. I have heard how you have shut your- 
 self out from society ; how you have gone from country to 
 country an aimless and hopeless wanderer ; how you have 
 been pressed again and again by those who had every right 
 to advise you, to get a divorce from one who was but your 
 wife in name, to whom you had attached yourself by a 
 hasty boyish pledge, and who had, apparently, proved her- 
 self so base and unworthy of you. I know, too, that you 
 have remained true in spite of all. Think then, if you 
 deem me worthy of the bestowal of a thought, how I must 
 have suffered in my obscurity when I saw from what I had 
 shut myself out, and whether I would have condemned you 
 and myself to all this without a weighty reason. That 
 reason, dear Matthew, it is now my purpose to show you.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 3 
 
 " And when you have read this Confession, and pass 
 judgment upon my poor afflicted sister, who has been the 
 unwitting cause of it all, do not forget the calamity that 
 had befallen her. She was not responsible for her terrible 
 act. Had she been sane she would have been incapable of 
 even conceiving the thought. She had had much wrong, 
 and had been basely deceived. She was an instrument in 
 the hands of a just Fate. My heart is fit to break when I 
 think of her and all the terrible misfortunes that over- 
 whelmed her through one rash act. My poor Catherine ! 
 
 " May you be happier henceforward than you have been 
 while I lived to blight your prospects. May you learn to 
 forgive her who entered into your life only to ruin it, but 
 who would gladly have given her existence to make you 
 happy had Providence ordered our lives more kindly than 
 it did. Would that I could convey to you by some other 
 means than pen and paper what I feel towards you at this 
 moment of writing. Though misfortune has come down 
 upon me like a thick darkness, my life has known one 
 green spot in its dreary wilderness through all my love 
 for you has remained as strong as on the day when you 
 first won the admission from me. I may confess it now ; 
 for when this reaches your hand the grave will have hidden 
 all the faults and follies of 
 
 " Your loving wife, 
 " ESTHEH. 
 " October 9, 1888." 
 
 THE DIARY. 
 I. 
 
 JAN. 15, 1885. How strange it seems to me to be seated 
 in this room writing in my diary to-night. I can scarcely 
 realize that I am the new governess, and that I am at The 
 Peak. The advertisement was : " Wanted, young lady of
 
 4 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 education and refinement as governess. Knowledge of lan- 
 guages required in addition to ability to instruct in ordinary 
 curriculum. Terms, 40 per annum. Apply, The Peak." 
 
 Well, I was a young lady of education and refinement. 
 I knew French and Spanish passably, was well acquainted 
 with Latin, had a slight smattering of German (very 
 slight, I may say), besides English, which of course didn't 
 count. I flattered myself I knew how to instruct in the 
 " ordinary curriculum " which I supposed meant the three 
 R's and above all, I wanted that .40 badly. I applied 
 for the place, got it, and here I am, tired to death with 
 travelling for the last two days, and with my daily portion 
 of diary -writing, which I have religiously pledged myself to 
 do, still staring me in the face. 
 
 To-day was one of those unseasonable days occasionally 
 met with even in mid-summer. Thick clouds of mist were 
 drifting over the hills as we set out from Wellington this 
 afternoon, and in about half an hour it began to pour down 
 in torrents. The driving sheets of rain made the scenery 
 a mere indistinguishable blurr, and I lay back in the 
 carriage in despair of finding anything from without to 
 interest me. I was full of a feeling of timid nervousness. 
 I had not yet seen Mrs. Shaw, the lady by whom I had 
 been engaged, for I had applied for the situation in writing, 
 and I wondered what she would be like. I took out the 
 letter she had written in reply to mine, and read it over 
 again. It was kindly enough worded, assured me of having 
 a very comfortable place, that the two little girls it would 
 be my duty to instruct would be found exceedingly docile 
 and teachable, and all that ; but it was written in a thick 
 heavy hand. The t's had no upstrokes, and had great 
 black bars dashed across them ; the tails of the g's and y's 
 were as stiff and unbending as pump-handles, and the ends 
 of the words ran away into mere ragged lines. Altogether 
 a grim, forbidding kind of hand ; a hand that brought up a
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 5 
 
 vision of a woman with a little too much will -of her own, a 
 set, severe face, and tightly-closed lips. I did not like the 
 picture I had conjured up, put the letter back in the reticule, 
 and looking out of the carriage window again, found I was 
 in sight of The Peak. 
 
 From the valley road along which we were slowly crawling 
 I could call it nothing else I caught sight, through the 
 gray cloud of rain, of a large rambling building perched 
 apparently on the top of the highest hill. The coachman 
 pointed to it with his whip, and said that was " It." From 
 the valley it was impossible to form any idea of what the 
 place was like, for I could only make out the dim outlines 
 of a number of high-shouldered gables pushing up above 
 the trees ; a great straggling place it seemed, all the bigger 
 and more unwieldy from the mists that hung about it. 
 Then it was shut out again, and we began to ascend a hill- 
 side, so steep that the horses had to go in an abrupt zig-zag 
 to lessen the strain. The trees, heavy with the rain, over- 
 hung the banks at the roadside and brushed against the 
 coach windows as we passed. Then, without in the least 
 knowing how wo got there, I found myself jolting along a 
 rough narrow mountain path, with The Peak in the midst 
 of its wide grounds lying below. Behind the house, the 
 mountains rose giddily upward till their tops were hidden 
 in dense clouds of mist, that closed, and opened, and 
 changed, and hung down the steep hillsides like masses of 
 tangled drapery. A cold icy wind had arisen and was 
 sweeping keenly along the heights ; a wide, bleak prospect 
 opened out ; on every side stretched rugged brown hills 
 studded with the blackened stumps of charred tree stems, 
 with random patches of native bush showing here and 
 there through rifts in the mist, and having an indescrib- 
 ably wet and draggled look about them. I wondered what 
 could have possessed any one to build such a house as the 
 one before me, and then hide it away in a wild, barren, out- 
 of-the-way spot like this.
 
 6 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 A few more turns in the road, and we stopped before a 
 pair of tall iron gates, which the driver opened. Then we 
 wheeled up a broad pebbly yellow-sanded sweep of carriage 
 drive, and halted before the hall door, and stepping out, I 
 found myself fairly arrived at The Peak at last. 
 
 It is not the most comfortable feeling to entertain at the 
 beginning of such an engagement as mine, and I may be 
 wrong, but I have an unpleasantly strong idea that Mrs. 
 Shaw and I will not be the best friends in the world. She 
 received me herself in the drawing-room on my arrival to- 
 day, and I was surprised at the closeness of her resemblance 
 to the picture I had formed in my mind. She was tall, 
 gaunt and bony, with eyes severe, and dress of formal cut. 
 Her eyebrows were bushy too bushy for a woman ; and 
 her forehead, though she was by no means an elderly 
 woman, was full of wrinkles. Her nose was pointed ; her 
 ears stood out sharply from her head ; and in the very first 
 moment of my introduction I was conscious of a certain 
 grim, disagreeable air of sanctimony about her. 
 
 She rose from her chair as I was announced, and stood 
 with one arm crossed in front of her, and the other by her 
 side, steadily looking at me. She took in every point 
 before she spoke. Then she said, " You are Miss Gower, 
 I presume. I am glad to see you. I trust we shall get on 
 very well together." 7 trusted we should get on very well 
 together, added what I thought the occasion required, and 
 presented my credentials. 
 
 " You will be tired after your journey," she said, when 
 she had made me thoroughly uncomfortable by the critical 
 way in which she seemed to read over the letters. " The 
 servant will show you your room." She rang the bell, and 
 a servant girl appeared, who piloted me up a flight or two 
 of stairs and along a dreary stretch of passage to the 
 quarters assigned me, where I have remained ever since, 
 Mrs. Shaw being considerate enough to indulge me with tea 
 in my own room.
 
 M ATTI-1 KW 11 KDM A YN K. 
 
 And now I am just about tired out. The bed looks 
 inviting, and I think I have done enough for one day. 
 
 II. 
 
 JAN. 16. First day over, and I am not sorry for it. I 
 want an hour or two's leisure to decide whether I like the 
 place or not. I think it will do. Mrs. Shaw, whose chief 
 characteristic seems a pretty strong will and a pretty quick 
 temper, is not so bad as I thought she would be. I con- 
 cluded last night that she was not a lady by a good deal, 
 and she left the impression upon me to-day that she has 
 not always been used to her present style of living, and is 
 afraid of the fact being known. It appears she is a widow. 
 Mr. Shaw died at sea, about thirteen months ago. Besides 
 the two young girls I am engaged to teach, she has one 
 son, the offspring of a previous marriage. He is at the 
 University, she told me to day, and she expects him down 
 almost immediately. His name is Edgar Stadding, and he 
 is spoken of (by his mother) as a rising man in the scholastic 
 world. 
 
 My two pupils seem only ordinary specimens of child 
 life. Mediocre in every way nothing remarkably good, 
 bad, or clever about them, and consequently a very fair field 
 to work upon. 
 
 The Peak is much more comfortable than one would 
 think from its surroundings. It is an isolated, bleak place 
 certainly, but it has its advantages among them a mag- 
 nificent view. The grounds are of groat extent, and are 
 well laid out that is, from my |K>int of view. The paths 
 are full of odd twists and turns, and reveal all sorts of 
 unexpected attractions at unexpected places. The shrub- 
 bery is cut into a variety of strange artificial shapes, which 
 is the one point in the gardening I do not like. The whole 
 place, both grounds and house, is sadly neglected. The
 
 8 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 
 
 house itself is a very substantial affair, having been built 
 in times when the Maoris were troublesome, and when the 
 possibility of a raid on their part was among the things 
 which might reasonably be calculated upon. There is even 
 now some legend extant about a solemn league and 
 covenant having been made between the earliest repre- 
 sentative of the Shaw family and a certain Epuni, who, 
 in those days, was chief of a tribe of savages called the 
 Ngatiawa, and a mighty man in the land. 
 
 Jan. 18. Great preparations were being made for the 
 arrival of Edgar Stadding all day yesterday, and the place 
 is even yet in a state of mild uproar. Things had been 
 left to the last moment, too, and the object of all this fuss 
 arrived in the midst of the confusion. He came very 
 unexpectedly, and without sending any word. I had the 
 rather doubtful honour of seeing him last night before 
 any one else in the house, and there was something in his 
 behaviour that puzzled me then, and which I am at a loss 
 to understand now. 
 
 It was a beautiful night. The moon had just risen, and 
 the dew was glittering in the silvery light. I had 
 wandered from the house, and found my way to the low 
 stone fence that borders the garden. I stood there enjoy- 
 ing the fresh beauty of the night, looking along the road 
 that stretched away in the moonlight like a long gray 
 ribbon till it was lost in distant windings among the hills. 
 
 There was a spire of tufted grass growing out from 
 between the stones of the wall, and nodding in the breeze. 
 It was such as Goethe's Marguerite might have said her 
 charm over "He loves me, he loves me not" and I 
 plucked it, and choosing two words, repeated them as she 
 did, picking a blossom at each word. I came to the end, 
 and held the stripped blade in my hand. 
 
 I was to be unfortunate ! 
 
 I laughed and threw the blade away, and turned to go 
 into the house again, but paused. Slowly there grew out 
 of the silence a faint rattle that gradually took the sound
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 9 
 
 of carriage wheels, and two dots of flame, like twin stars, 
 floated out into the dimness far along the road. As it 
 came nearer I saw that the lights belonged to a dog-cart, 
 which had two men in it. It stopped suddenly when 
 directly opposite me, and one of the men, giving a hasty 
 exclamation, sprang out, and the next thing I was 
 conscious of was that a young man was approaching me 
 with lifted hat and outstretched hand. I was more than 
 surprised. I had never seen him in my life before, but he 
 seemed, in some unaccountable way, to regard me as quite 
 an old friend. He was tall and over-dressed even in the 
 moonlight I caught the flash of jewellery on cuff and shirt- 
 front and the fingers of the hand he held out had several 
 rings on them. 
 
 "Ha," he said, as if he were greeting some familiar 
 acquaintance, " who the unmentionable would expect to see 
 you hanging over a fence at this hour? How the deuce 
 did you get here, of all places ? You've stolen a march on 
 me, you puss ; begad you have. Good heavens ! " he said, 
 stopping short in comic despair within a pace of me. "Is 
 it not can I have made a mistake ? " 
 
 He certainly had, and I went so far as to say so. 
 " Puss," indeed ! the impudence of the fellow. 
 
 " Indeed, I -I beg your pardon. I thought I had the 
 pleasure of meeting 
 
 The man in the cart laughed, and the other, murmuring 
 some apology which I could not distinguish, scrambled 
 back to his place in what I thought a very ungraceful 
 and undignified way, and drove on again. As I walked 
 towards the house, wondering how such a strange mistake 
 could have arisen, I heard a peal of laughter from along 
 the road, and looking back, saw the dog-cart take the 
 turning that led up to the house, and it at once crossed my 
 mind that it was Edgar Stadding who had taken this 
 informal way of returning home, and that it must have 
 been he who had spoken to me. And I should like to 
 know who on earth could he suppose me to be, that he
 
 10 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 should have the unheard-of impudence to call me 
 " puss ! " 
 
 Jan. 19. I saw him again to-day. He introduced 
 himself the other night in a way that prejudiced me pretty 
 strongly against him, and my dislike for it amounts to 
 that ; I always go by first impressions was increased this 
 afternoon, though he seemed to put himself to some pains 
 to make himself agreeable. As I was walking by myself 
 in the garden after the day's lessons were over, I saw him 
 lolling on one of the old-fashioned garden seats that are 
 scattered here and there over the grounds. He had a 
 number of letters beside him on the seat, and seemed to be 
 reading one very attentively; he kissed it once or twice 
 too, if I am not mistaken. From " puss," I suppose. I 
 wonder who the creature can be ? How that word does 
 annoy me, to be sure ! Presently he caught sight of me, 
 and, thrusting the letter into his pocket, came hurrying 
 along the path after me. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Gower," he said, as he overtook me, " I have 
 just been over to the post-office for our daily batch of 
 letters, and here is one for you." 
 
 I took the letter, thanked him, and was passing on when 
 he said 
 
 " I hope you have forgiven me for my stupidity of the 
 other night, Miss Gower. It was the dim light did it ; 
 and you really are so much like the party I took you 
 for." 
 
 I felt anything but flattered by the resemblance ! 
 
 "There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Stadding," I said, 
 tartly. "I had forgotten all about it." 
 
 It was a case of antipathy at first sight. Without there 
 being any one thing in his manner or appearance that one 
 could single out as the objectionable feature, there was 
 something about him that roused my dislike at once. If 
 he thought to use the letter as an excuse for opening 
 a conversation, as I supposed he did, he had chosen the 
 worst possible means for his purpose, for it was in my
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 11 
 
 sister's hand, and I was anxious to get away to my own 
 room and read it. But he stood right in my way, flicking 
 the flowers with his riding switch, and apparently deter- 
 mined not to go till we were better acquainted. 
 
 " You are very kind to say that, Miss Gower," he said ; 
 " you have no idea how I have been tormenting myself 
 about my awkwardness. I am afraid you will find The 
 Peak very dull," he went on, after pausing to see if I 
 would speak, " especially after being accustomed to living 
 in town." 
 
 "1 don't think I shall find it at all dull. I prefer 
 country to town." 
 
 "Do you] Well, I don't. Awful bore, I think it. 
 Tells on a fellah, you know least, it does on me. Gives 
 me the miserables, and I make for the town the first 
 chance I get. Coiu-se, being a university man student, 
 you know, and all that " (he looked out of the corners of 
 his eyes with elaborate slyness as he said it, but I care- 
 fully avoided his glance) " er town offers me many 
 advantages." 
 
 I said, " Indeed," endeavouring to reduce myself to a 
 lump of inanity in the hope that he would drop the 
 conversation, but he went on as cheerfully as ever. 
 
 "Oh, yes, six months in the country would make me 
 into an unmitigated clod-hopper " (a great deal less than 
 that would do it, I commented mentally). " Allow me," 
 and he picked up the letter, which had slipped from my 
 fingers. 
 
 " Do you know, Miss Gower, 1 can do a little at the 
 second-sight business," he said, desperately trying to keep 
 up the conversation, as he held out the letter, and gazed 
 impudently into my eyes. Everything he did was more or 
 less impudent, it seemed to me. 
 
 "Yes?" frigidly. 
 
 " Yes. Shall I give you a sample of what I can do ? 
 For one thing, now, I can prophesy good news for you in 
 this letter. Shall 1 go on .' " 
 
 it
 
 12 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " By all means, Mr. Stadding, tell me all you know ; 
 only I am afraid you are not recommending yourself as a 
 letter-carrier for the future." 
 
 " Oh, I say," he said, with a stupidly deprecating air, 
 " that's that's very severe. But, now you couldn't 
 cross my palm with silver, could you, in true gipsy style 1 
 No change 1 Oh, very well. Your letter, then," and he 
 gazed abstractedly into space, and let the words drop 
 slowly, one by one, from his lips, " is from one near and 
 dear to you whom you haven't seen for some time a 
 female, a mother no, not a mother, nor an aunt let us 
 say a sister ; let us further say her name has nine letters, 
 and that the first is C. Am I right as regards the writer 
 so far, supposing it is from her 1 " and he assumed what he 
 meant for an engaging smile. 
 
 " Quite right, so far," I said, somewhat surprised. 
 
 " Good breeding requires that I must not allow myself 
 to pry too closely. She is an actress, tall, dark, has well, 
 in fact, has a temper of her own, and yes, meditates very 
 shortly paying you a visit." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Stadding, you must surely be acquainted 
 with my sister to know all this ! " 
 
 " Performance is over, Miss Gower " (another smile), " it 
 merely remains to pass round the hat." 
 
 " But, tell me, do you really you must know my sister 
 Catherine." 
 
 "To those who have the gift of second sight, ordinary 
 conditions don't apply. We know 'em all, any one you like, 
 without the preliminary of introduction. I have that mar- 
 vellous gift, and it enables me to know that the Grand 
 What's-his-name of Thibet is a humbug, and that the Czar 
 Alexander looks under the bed every night before he goes 
 to sleep." 
 
 " Oh, but," I said, impatiently, " without any nonsense, 
 do you know my sister Catherine ? " 
 
 " I know Catherine's sister 
 
 He was interrupted by a shriek of laughter, and little
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 13 
 
 May Shaw, one of ray two pupils, came running along the 
 path, her hat hanging round her neck by the strings, her 
 hair flying out behind her. 
 
 " Oh, Eddy, hide me quick ! She wants me to go to bed, 
 and I won't go-o-o," shrieked the child, trying to hide 
 behind him. 
 
 " Confound the child ! go away ; don't bother me with 
 your nonsense now," he saicl, irritably, pushing her away. 
 
 " Oh no, of course not," and the child fell back a pace 
 and pouted, " 'cause you want to talk with Miss Gower," 
 she added, with the charming frankness of her years. 
 
 "May Shaw ! " I snid, severely. 
 
 " You impudent young monkey ! " said Mr. Stadding, at 
 the same time looking at me and smiling as if there was a 
 perfect understanding between us. 
 
 "Miss May," said a sharp voice, "come along and let's 
 have no more nonsense,'' and the nurse, a cross, vinegar- 
 faced woman, appeared round a sudden bond in the trees 
 and seized the child by the wrist. She looked sourly from 
 me to Mr. Stadding, and back again, and was turning 
 away without speaking, when Mr. Stadding said ill- 
 temperedly 
 
 " I wish you could manage to keep those youngsters a 
 little more under control, Mrs. Hetherwiek." 
 
 Now, Mrs. Hetherwick, 1 have reason to know, occupies 
 a peculiar position in the family. She is generally spoken 
 of as " the nurse." That is her oflicial capacity. She 
 came into the house with her mistress, and from their long 
 acquaintance has drifted from the position of servant into 
 that of confidante. She is allowed considerable authority, 
 and, from what I have seen of her, seems to exercise it in 
 the most disagreeable way, and is heartily detested by the 
 other servants. She has the reputation, too, of being the 
 most consummate of gossips, and has unusual facilities in 
 the way of learning local scandal, being related to the land- 
 lady of the Truss o' Straw, a hotel at the Hutt, a place 
 not far from here, where such news naturally collects.
 
 14 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 She turned upon Mr. Stadding at once, with crest 
 erect. 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Staddiug, I think I know my place better 
 than some others I could name, if it comes to that," she 
 snapped. " I am sorry if the little thing interrupted you. 
 There are times, I know, when children are in the way." 
 She looked spitefully at me as she spoke, and I began to 
 wake up to the fact that I was being placed in a very 
 unpleasant position. 
 
 " Hoity-toity, marry come up," said Mr. Stadding, mock- 
 ing her. " Do we know who we are speaking to, Mrs. 
 Hetherwick ? " 
 
 " Yes, we do, Mr. Stadding, and it would be better if 
 some others in the house were just as careful who they 
 talked to. I know my own place, at least and know how 
 to keep it, that's what's more." 
 
 " If I had my way, that last is just what you wouldn't 
 do, madam." 
 
 "Oh, I dessay ! And I think I know some who would 
 be just as sure of their place if you had your way, sir 
 which the Lord forbid you ever should ! " she said, shaking 
 her head at him fiercely. 
 
 " You take my advice, Mrs. Hetherwick, and don't go 
 too far. I didn't ask you for any impudence, you know, 
 and when you speak to me you'll be good enough to 
 remember the difference in our positions. If you are 
 allowed liberties elsewhere, you'll lay aside your Jack-in- 
 office airs with me. I've no more words to waste on you. 
 Miss Gower, may I see you into the house? " 
 
 I had felt de trap during this passage, and did not wish 
 to appear to identify myself with either party. I was 
 irritated at the conduct of Edgar Stadding, whose thought- 
 lessness had placed me in a very false position. It was im- 
 possible not to understand the point of Mrs. Hether wick's 
 reference to myself, and I dreaded how she might use 
 her influence with Mrs. Shaw if her enmity were once 
 aroused.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 1 o 
 
 " Thank you," I said coldly, " I shall stay out here a 
 little longer." 
 
 lie lifted his hat, without speaking, and passed on after 
 Mrs. Hetherwick, who was striding up the walk to the 
 house, dragging little May with her, who was continually 
 looking back and tripping up, and being jerked on again 
 till a turn hid them from sight. 
 
 The evenings are raw and cold up among these bleak 
 hills, so, giving them a few minutes to reach the house, I 
 turned to go in also. As I passed up the stairs to my 
 room I heard the voice of Mrs. Hetherwick saying, " Take 
 my word for it, she's too good-looking by half. I know 
 'em of old." I heard no more, but my modesty could not 
 make me doubt as to who it was that was under dis- 
 cussion, and I have serious misgivings as to how this 
 will end. 
 
 Edgar Stadding was a true prophet. The letter iras 
 from Catherine. It was very short, and contained little 
 more than the intimation that the company with which 
 she was travelling would shortly be in Wellington, and 
 that she hoped to be able to get time to visit me soon after 
 I received her note. 
 
 As I finished reading the letter I remembered what 
 Edgar Stadding had said in the garden. Could ho really bo 
 acquainted with her, and did he by some means know that 
 she intended coming here! 
 
 A thought strikes me : We were always considered 
 very much alike. Can this be the explanation of the 
 strange mistake he made the other night ? I sincerely 
 hope it is not ! 
 
 III. 
 
 JAX. 22. I have seen Catherine to-day for the first 
 time for five years ! She is very little changed, and I feel 
 quite sure now that it must have been she that Edgar
 
 16 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Stadding mistook me for on the night of his return ; and 
 the knowledge is very far from being pleasing to me. I not 
 only dislike him personally and I frankly admit that I 
 do, as I have said before but his tone, when he spoke 
 to me, both on the first occasion and since, was to my 
 thinking a deal too familiar and well, disagreeable, to say 
 the least. From what I have seen of him during the 
 last day or two, I believe him to be a selfish and unprin- 
 cipled man. 
 
 Catherine is staying at the Truss o' Straw, at the Hutt, 
 where she established herself this morning. She sent a 
 note telling me she had arrived, and as soon as my work 
 for the day was over I went down to see her. I inquired 
 for " Miss Ada de Bonville," which was the name a 
 foolish one, I thought on the note 'she had sent, and was 
 shown up to her room, where we committed all kinds of 
 extravagances in the first joy of meeting after so long 
 a separation as ours has been. At least, I know I did ; 
 and when my first lucid interval occurred, I found myself, 
 with tumbled hair and dress, sitting on the sofa opposite 
 Catherine, and both of us in a generally confused state of 
 half laughter, half tears. 
 
 When I say she is little changed, I mean as to her 
 appearance ; in other respects there is a change, though 
 what it is I scarcely know, except that I have an uneasy 
 sense that it's there, and that I wish it was not. But 
 beyond this it is the same dear self-willed impulsive 
 Catherine of old. 
 
 We sat and talked as girls will talk after they have 
 been long parted, but what it was all about I haven't the 
 faintest idea now. The long summer evening closed in 
 upon us all too soon, and as I wished to be back at The 
 Peak before dusk, I rose to go. I was standing in front 
 of the glass arranging my head-gear with Catherine beside 
 me, when I was struck anew by the resemblance between 
 our faces, and at once recalled my first interview with 
 Edgar Stadding, and the mistake he had made.
 
 MATTHEW RKDMAYNE. 17 
 
 " Catherine," I said, suddenly, " do you know any one 
 named Edgar Stadding?" 
 
 She started, and then laughed guiltily, and began to 
 colour up. 
 
 " We are in the way of knowing a good many people in 
 our profession," she said, evasively. " It's different to a 
 governess's, you know considerably." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, what? " with a short laugh. 
 
 " Do you know Edgar Stadding ? " I repeated, deter- 
 mined to have a direct answer to my question. 
 
 " Well, as I say, one knows so many but why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 " Because I'm pretty sure he knows you, and knew you 
 were coming here too." 
 
 "Oh, that's very likely," she answered, carelessly, "and 
 so did five thousand others, for the matter of that. It was 
 in the papers about our coming long enough, goodness 
 knows. Besides, more people know Tom Fool you know 
 the rest." 
 
 " Yes, but he knew more about you than he got from 
 any paper. The papers didn't say you were my sister, or 
 give your right name, did they ; or say that you were tall 
 and dark, and had a temper of your own 1 "(Or speak of 
 you as " puss," I was going to add, but checked myself in 
 time.) 
 
 " Did he say that?" she said, her eyes sparkling. " You 
 know him you've spoken to him, then 1 " and she glanced 
 up at me quickly. 
 
 " Or rather, he has to me and I'd thank him not to in 
 future." 
 
 " And why, indeed ? Isn't he good enough for your 
 ladyship ? " 
 
 " I don't say anything as to his goodness or badness, 
 though I have my doubts about the former. But I don't 
 like him for one thing." 
 
 " Indeed ! And what is the other thing, may I ask ? "
 
 18 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 wavering between jest and earnest, with a growing inclin- 
 ation to the latter. 
 
 " Simply because he doesn't know how to speak when he 
 does do so as far as I have seen as yet, at any rate." 
 
 " That sounds very like a ' bull,' doesn't it 1 Did he say 
 anything very shocking 1 " 
 
 " It's not what he has said to me altogether, but to 
 others, and his manner in general. But that has nothing 
 to do with my question as to whether you know him or 
 not though I scarcely need ask you now." 
 
 "What a persistent little fool it is ! Why, of course I 
 do that is, we have a slight acquaintance platonic, you 
 know. The fact is, he is an artist, and appreciates good 
 acting " 
 
 " And actresses," I said, with a curtsey. 
 
 " I accept the amendment. And actresses, as you 
 remark," with a return of the curtsey. 
 
 " He may be an artist, but he's certainly not a gentle- 
 man, nor the kind of person I would choose for for well, 
 a friend " 
 
 " Oh, nonsense. Don't be so absurd. What do you 
 know about him to form an opinion on, and what's your 
 opinion, worth when you have formed it, I'd like to know 1 
 I'll be bound you haven't spoken to him half a dozen times 
 altogether." 
 
 " No, indeed I haven't, and don't intend to, that's more. 
 I found twice quite enough for my taste." 
 
 " Twice ! There you are, now ! The very idea of run- 
 ning away with an opinion of a man's character after 
 seeing him twice ! I wonder you were introduced to him 
 at all." 
 
 " It would be a good while before we'd become acquainted 
 if he waited for that, I'm afraid. We weren't introduced ; 
 he doesn't wait for such old-fashioned formalities as that. 
 He introduced himself, and that, too, in a way that was a 
 good deal more peculiar than agreeable." 
 
 " He has a free and easy way with him, I know."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 1 !) 
 
 " Yes very much so. The first time he saw me I've a 
 shrewd idea he took me for some one else." I looked hard 
 at her, but she met my eyes with a look of childlike 
 innocence. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if he did. I doubt if he would 
 have the courage to speak to such a little dragon of 
 propriety, if he knew. You always were a little prude, 
 you know that yourself. But who could he take you 
 for?" 
 
 " Can't you guess ! " 
 
 "Not the faintest idea," she said, shaking her head. 
 
 "Shall I tell you?" 
 
 "Please." 
 
 "Adade Bonville." 
 
 " Ada do Bonville ! Me ! Never ! " she exclaimed, with 
 well-simulated surprise. 
 
 " Come, come," I said, mischievously, " you're not on the 
 stage now. It's well acted, but only acted after all. You 
 know it was you he must have mistaken me for if he 
 mistook me for any one." 
 
 " Go along witli you, you impudent minx ! How should 
 I know ? He might have taken you for one of the old 
 maids of Lee. As likely as not you look the part. But 
 tell me what did he say 1 " 
 
 " No more than you might expect any other young man 
 to say who found himself in a very ridiculous position. 
 Mumbled something I suppose he intended for an apology, 
 got back into his dog-cart, and drove off again and all 
 with the worst grace imaginable." 
 
 "Mumbled! He didn't mumble. But surely that 
 wasn't all he said. What were his words -what did he 
 say ? " 
 
 " Bless my heart, I don't set so much store by his words 
 as to be able to repeat them verbatim a week after hearing 
 them. Something about an unexpected pleasure, and how 
 on earth did I get there. Which 1 think it was like his 
 impudence to say." (I still suppressed the " puss.")
 
 20 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 *' And was that all he said ? " she asked, with a certain 
 air of relief, as if she had been afraid he had said a good 
 deal more. 
 
 " As far as I remember that was all he said." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" she laughed, "the very idea of his 
 taking you for me ! That is good. Well, we are alike, 
 certainly in looks, anyway. I suppose you were highly 
 indignant at the innocent mistake he made 1 " 
 
 " Indignant 1 Why should I be, at his saying to me 
 what it would be appropriate to say to any one else in a 
 like position 1 " 
 
 " Oh, but you were always such a straight-laced little 
 prude of a thing. You know you were." 
 
 " A prude," I said, irritably. " I think you told me 
 that before this evening. I'm not quite sure what you 
 call a prude. If it's prudish not to like any one who doesn't 
 know how to behave himself, then I'm a prude, and mean 
 to remain one." 
 
 " I'd better count ten before I add anything to that, 
 don't you think, Ettie ? Don't let us quarrel over it." 
 
 " Quarrel ! I don't want to quarrel. But what do you 
 say such ridiculous things for ? And all for the sake of 
 
 Si 
 
 "Let us change the subject, Ettie," she said, stopping 
 me by putting her hand over my mouth. "When shall I 
 see you again 1 " 
 
 " I'm afraid I shan't be able to call here often. Come 
 up and see me at The Peak. I've got a room to myself." 
 
 " Thank you" she said, with another curtsey. " I've no 
 wish to see your puritanical old Mother Hubbard up there. 
 Besides, what would she think of the governess who defiled 
 her house by bringing an unregenerate, painted actress 
 into it ; and that actress her sister, too < \ " 
 
 " Why, what can you know about Mrs. Shaw 1 " I asked, 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Oh, I know plenty about her. I know her a good deal 
 better than you think," and she nodded her head wisely.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 21 
 
 " From Edgar Stadding," I commented mentally, and 
 then aloud " Have you ever spoken to her ? " 
 
 " .N"ot I, but I know what kind of woman she is, all the 
 same. I have means of hearing. What? The time? 
 Oh, well, if you must go. Will you have a ticket for the 
 theatre ? ' Deeds Done in Darkness.' Come and see your 
 sister filling the role of the ' Deserted Wife ' as played by 
 her for two hundred and fifty nights before enthusiastic 
 audiences in all the leading cities of the colonies, an imper- 
 sonation universally admitted to be unique in its boldness 
 of conception and minute conscientiousness of detail 
 ahem ! Can't I reel off the patter ? I got that from one 
 of the notices written by a newspaper fledgling I charmed 
 in the stalls one night. Won't you come ? I'd like you 
 to see it. I'm sure you'd like it. We begin in Wellington 
 in a night or so. My leave is up to-morrow." 
 
 "Thanks. I'd like to go ; but then you know 
 
 " Oh, yes ; Mrs. Shaw, propriety, and all the rest of it. 
 I'd go in spite of the old cat, if I had to climb out of the 
 window. What's it got to do with her, I'd like to know." 
 
 " Hut being an irreclaimable prude I couldn't do that, 
 you see." 
 
 " You climb out of window ! I don't believe you could 
 persuade yourself to leave a house afire if you had to save 
 your life at the risk of your ankles being seen. What is it 
 Miss Mowcher says about that ? Well, what must be, 
 must be, I suppose. I should like you to see it, though, at 
 the same time. I rather pride myself on my ' Deserted 
 Wife.' You wouldn't believe what a hold it hns taken 
 of me. I quite terrified myself the other night when I 
 woke up in the middle of a dream, and found myself going 
 through the scene on the floor of my room." 
 
 " I should like to see you too, Kate ; but if I can't see 
 you in the part of a Deserted Wife, perhaps I'll see you 
 have a still longer run in that of an Old Maid in the 
 Comedy of Life, so cheer up." 
 
 " No, that indeed you won't not while leap year's in
 
 22 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 the calender and I've got a tongue in my head. Good- 
 night, old chap. I can see you are taxing yourself to work 
 up a joke on something about a ' drop-scene ' and a ' cur- 
 tain lecture,' but I don't care to hear it. Here, take this 
 ticket in case the spirit should move you to try the window- 
 climbing business. Ta, ta ! " 
 
 IY. 
 
 JAN. 24. Mrs. Shaw has treated me very coldly since 
 the evening when Edgar Stadding spoke to me in the 
 garden, and I am glad that that gentleman has of late been 
 away pretty frequently at one place and another, and that 
 when he does meet me he makes no attempt to engage in 
 conversation. I think he understands me pretty well now. 
 Mrs. Hetherwick ignores me altogether of which I should 
 be glad did I not doubt she is only waiting a favourable 
 opportunity to injure me in the eyes of her employer. 
 
 Mrs. Shaw surprised me yesterday. I have mentioned 
 that I was struck with a certain grim suggestion of sancti- 
 moniousness about her at our first interview, and that 
 impression has been made a good deal stronger lately. 
 She is the very last person in the world I should expect to 
 see patronizing a theatre or, indeed, any other amusement ; 
 yet last night she not only went to the theatre herself, but 
 took her retainers with her me along with the rest. I 
 wonder what she would think if she knew my reason for 
 being interested in the play ? Early in the morning she 
 received a visit from a certain Dr. Carmichael a tiresome, 
 good-natured old man, who officiously superintended my 
 work with my pupils during the forenoon, and seemed to 
 think his gray hairs justified him in playfully pinching my 
 cheek and pulling my ears, which he would persist in doing 
 and I think it must have been on his persuasion that she
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 23 
 
 allowed herself to be led so far out of her ordinary hum- 
 drum groove. I had taken the ticket Catherine had 
 offered me, but without any hope of using it, for I was 
 anxious to avoid doing anything that I thought might 
 displease Mrs. Shaw and I was pretty sure my going to 
 the theatre would displease her but I felt very much 
 disappointed, for I was really curious to see how Kate 
 could act. Mrs. Shaw is one of those persons who have 
 gained us the reputation, as a nation, of taking our pleasures 
 sadly. She called the two servants and myself into the 
 drawing-room yesterday, where she was sitting in company 
 with Dr. Carmichael, with Mrs. Hetherwick knitting and 
 glowering in the background. She surprised them even 
 more than she did me by saying she had gone to the 
 expense of buying tickets for the theatre. She was opposed 
 to the habit of theatre-going. It was, generally speaking, 
 a Thriftless, Worldly, even Immoral practice ; but on this 
 occasion the piece seemed different from those usually 
 given, and was advertised as being of a strictly moral tend- 
 ency, and specially adapted to appeal to the young, and it 
 was for the purpose of assisting a good charitable object. 
 She approved of that she emphatically approved of that. 
 She was a charitable Avoman herself, and always wished to 
 help a good object with her humble mite. But still, those 
 who did not wish need not go, and she would write an 
 appropriate text on their tickets, which they might keep 
 instead. Both the servants assumed an air of infinitely 
 preferring the text, but being compelled by a disagreeable 
 duty to go to the theatre. 
 
 " And which will Miss GOAVOI' have, the text or the 
 play}" said the doctor, with a sly smile, sidling up to me. 
 "/ am going to the play, myself. Gratify an old man by 
 saying you will go to. Miss Gower smiles. I answer for 
 her, Mrs. Shaw ; Miss GoAver will go to the play, and you 
 can give her the text afterwards." 
 
 Mrs. Shaw, who was no doubt vexed at the others declin- 
 ing the text, received my decision with a very bad grace,
 
 24 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 and silently offered me a ticket. I did not wish to place 
 myself even under the trifling obligation of accepting it, 
 and in consequence I allowed myself to commit a piece of 
 very bad generalship. 
 
 " Thank you," I said, " I have a ticket." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," she said, icily. " I was not aware of that." 
 
 Something like a muttered, ""Well upon my word," 
 from Mrs. Hetherwick's corner, as if the speaker had 
 almost lost the power of speech from amazement, showed 
 me the mistake I had made. 
 
 " Very good. You see, Miss Gower's charitable feelings 
 have anticipated yours, Mrs. Shaw," said the doctor, who 
 seemed to understand the situation. 
 
 " Quite so. It is a very commendable feature in a young 
 person's character," said Mrs. Shaw, with a frigid stare. 
 " I can quite understand the ticket was bought with 110 
 other purpose than that of charity." 
 
 Her temper was still ruffled when we set out for Welling- 
 ton, and was made worse by the sudden appearance of Edgar 
 Stadding, who had been away during the first part of 
 the day, and who now declared his intention of accom- 
 panying us to town. I, too, could have wished he had not 
 put himself in evidence, for though I was not looking at 
 her, I knew Mrs. Shaw at once set herself to keep a vigilant 
 watch upon me ; and when we entered the theatre, I took 
 care to take the seat farthest away from Mr. Stadding. 
 
 I had very seldom been in a theatre before never, of 
 course, under like circumstances and I sat with a feeling 
 of nervous distraction upon me, waiting for the rising of 
 the curtain, and the appearance of Catherine upon the 
 stage. The house was not half full as yet ; and a confused 
 buzz of conversation arose from the continual throng of 
 new-comers making their way in. As I was wondering, in 
 my simplicity, how Catherine would over be able to go 
 through her part before so many people, and thinking how 
 impossible it would be for a nervous creature such as I to 
 say even half a dozen words in the presence of such a
 
 MATTHEW 11EDMAYNE. 25 
 
 battery of eyes, I was startled by a face I caught sight of 
 on the opposite side of the circle. It was that of a tall, 
 dark man, who had just been obsequiously ushered to his 
 seat, and was standing waiting, with a certain statuesque 
 pose, for two ladies, who were making their way towards 
 him. He was a spare, powerful-looking man, with a 
 closely-cut black beard, and one shoulder a very little 
 higher than the other. 
 
 " Who is that man 1 " I said, laying my hand on the arm 
 of Doctor Carmichael, who sat next to me. 
 
 "Who? Where! How your hand trembles ! What is 
 the matter ? " 
 
 I knew my hand shook, for I was excited, though I did 
 not know why. 
 
 " That tall dark man opposite us, who is showing the 
 lady into her seat. There, he has just sat down, and is 
 reading his programme." 
 
 The doctor, who is rather short-sighted, put up his glasses. 
 
 "That," he said, focussing his glass, "is Llewellyn, the 
 owner of Scythe-bearer, the disputed winner of the Auck- 
 land Cup, that we have heard so much of ever since the 
 race. This is the first time I have had the chance of a 
 good look at his face, and what an evil-looking one it is, 
 isn't it ? He could play the part of Mcphistopheles without 
 change of dress, and no one would notice the incongruity. 
 Here, just look at him through this," and the doctor 
 offered me his lorgnette. Llewellyn raised his head as I 
 brought the glass to bear upon him, and I had a good view 
 of his face. As the doctor said, it was indeed an evil- 
 looking one. But its chief characteristic, and that which 
 lixed the attention to the exclusion of all else, was the 
 expression of the eyes -deep-sunk, black, and piercing, with 
 a depth of hidden passion .and firo in them. 
 
 " Miss Gower, you shuddered, I'll take my oath you 
 shuddered ! How would you like a man like that for a 
 husband, eh? You wouldn't care to cioss his purpose, 
 would you 1 "
 
 26 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " No, that indeed I shouldn't," I said. " I hope our 
 paths in life may never meet." And then the curtain 
 went up. 
 
 I could wish that my record of the evening ended here, 
 for, as a matter of fact, I blush even in the privacy of my 
 own room, when I think how I disgraced myself ; and I am 
 really ashamed to think I could let a mere piece of make- 
 believe sensationalism have such an effect upon me. 
 
 It was the last scene of the third act, the central tableau 
 of the piece, and was, to my thinking, horribly realistic. 
 It represented a glade in a forest at midnight, so dimly 
 lighted that one could scarcely distinguish the actors. Two 
 men had met, and were talking angrily. Presently they 
 closed furiously in a death struggle. In the midst of the 
 combat, the stage moon burst out from a bank of canvas 
 clouds, and revealed one man in the act of plunging a knife 
 into the other. The wounded man sank upon the ground ; 
 the murderer, alarmed at what he had done, made off and 
 all was done in such dead silence that it made one quite 
 nervous. Then, from among the bushes, Catherine, in the 
 character of the Deserted Wife, rushed towards the fallen 
 man, who was no other than her faithless husband. He 
 struggled to his knees as she came near, and dumbly held 
 out his hands to her, and clutched her dress. She snatched 
 up the knife from where it had fallen upon the ground, 
 seized one of his wrists, and brandished the dagger over his 
 head. Her action was so terribly life-like I could not bear 
 to see more, and I covered my face with my hands. I heard 
 her clear voice ringing through the building, " Let me 
 finish the work ! " There was quietness for a moment, and 
 then a burst of applause, that died away on my ears as if I 
 had been plunged under water, and then well, and then I 
 must admit I was guilty of the weakness of fainting. 
 
 When I recovered, some one was holding my head up, and 
 some one else was chafing my hands. There was a crowd of 
 people round me a pyramid of curious eyes piled almost to 
 the ceiling, it seemed to me in my confusion, and the first
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 27 
 
 face I distinguished, as the mist cleared away from my eyes, 
 was that of the man Llewellyn looking down at ine over 
 the shoulder of Edgar Stadding. Then, I saw Mrs. Shaw, 
 who seemed, by her looks, to have been disappointed in 
 detecting the moral tendency of the play, standing grim and 
 silent beside me, with my shawl dangling from her hand. 
 Then, I found myself outside, and revived as if by magic with 
 the breath of the keen cool night air. The carriage drove up. 
 Doctor Carmichael, who had monopolized me as completely 
 as if I had been a piece of his property, gently lifted me in, 
 and we were soon trundling homeward again. Had it not been 
 for the doctor, I think we should have been absolutely the 
 dreariest party of pleasure-seekers that ever rode on wheels. 
 I remained dumb under a sense of my own humiliation and 
 disgrace, and the humiliation and disgrace I had brought 
 upon my rigid mistress by making her, upon the one 
 occasion on which she had relaxed, the centre of a scene 
 in a theatre. She had insisted on having a light in the 
 carriage owing to her uncertainty as to what further 
 weakness I might betray, I suppose, and she sat next 
 me, bolt upright, angular, mute. Once I thought I heard 
 her mutter, " Moral tendency, indeed ! " but that was 
 all. Doctor Carmichael was saying, "I was disappointed, 
 too, in the piece I must admit that I was disappointed in 
 the piece. There is too much of the garments rolled in 
 blood about it to my thinking." 
 
 " Dev er jolly good play, I think," said Edgar Stad- 
 ding, "as plays go nowadays. I hate your milk-and-water 
 crossbreds between a Sunday-school picnic and a Met hod y 
 prayer-meeting. Give me something hot and strong before 
 your tea-and-cake-in-the-garden business." 
 Mrs. Shaw glared, hut said nothing. 
 
 " I don't know," said the doctor. " I've got a theory on 
 the point. I believe, and have always believed, that an 
 actor's character is affected by his profession. He uncon- 
 sciously takes upon himself the features of the part he 
 represents." 
 
 c
 
 28 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 " Oh, that's all stuff," answered Mr. Stadding, in his 
 delightfully frank way. " You mean to say that a man is 
 more likely to become a murderer because he pats a man on 
 the sconce with a brown-paper club why, what rot." 
 
 Mrs. Shaw glared harder than ever, but still said nothing. 
 
 " What seems ' rot ' to you, sir, as you elegantly term it," 
 said the doctor, gripping the head of his stick very tightly, 
 and getting red in the face, " may seem sound common 
 sense to other people with perhaps equal powers of judg- 
 ment. I mean to say that a conscientious actor, who sinks 
 his own individuality, and for the time being assumes that 
 of a murderer though there is no necessity for flying to 
 that extreme, mind you forces himself into the same frame 
 of mind, and acts as a murderer would act he is, I say, 
 simply putting himself through a course of criminal educa- 
 tion. And that's the long and short of it." 
 
 " And that's your theory, is it 1 If you saw murderer 
 and murdered over their oysters and beer after the play, 
 you'd see what nonsense it is." 
 
 " Upon my word, sir, you have a peculiar way of putting 
 your argument," said the doctor, growing redder in the 
 face, and taking a fresh grip of his stick, " I repeat, and I 
 speak from a pretty wide professional experience of human 
 nature, that, given the provocation, a man, who, by repeatedly 
 acting the part, has lost the salutary horror of crime, which 
 is the best safeguard against it, will be prone, much more 
 prone, to to to 
 
 " Commit murder, for instance," suggested Edgar Stadding, 
 with a grin. 
 
 " Well, if you will persist in going to that extreme, sir, 
 even to commit murder than if he had not had such an 
 insidious training." 
 
 " Oh, query, query, query," said the other. 
 
 " Oh, it's easy to cry ' query, query, query ' ; but that's 
 no argument. And let me add, that the chances would be 
 increased tenfold if he were under the influence of drink, or 
 was delirious, or
 
 MATTHEW HKDMAYNE. 20 
 
 " Or mad." 
 
 " Or mad, especially if mud. I'm "lad you follow me." 
 
 " I follow you ! Not at all. The way you were running 
 on naturally suggested ' mad ' to me." 
 
 " Upon my word ! " gasped the doctor, with long in- 
 tervals between his words, his face of an apoplectic hue. 
 " You're impudent, sir. You're talking of what you know 
 nothing about." 
 
 "One of us is, I'll take my oath," admitted the amiable 
 Edgar. 
 
 " 1 quite agree with what you say, doctor," said Mrs. 
 Shaw, opening her lips for the first time. " And I beg 
 of you never to ask me to go to such a place again. I 
 consider myself imposed upon, and my charity abused. 
 Moral tendency, indeed ! " 
 
 " We didn't stay long enough to see that," put in Mr. 
 Stadding, with another grin ; " the moral tendency didn't 
 come out till the last act." 
 
 " I am very glad you do agree with me, Mrs. Shaw," 
 said Doctor Carmichael. " I am sorry if you have not 
 enjoyed your evening ; but theatre-going is apt to lose its 
 charm for people of our years, I know." 
 
 " Considering this is the first and last time I have ever 
 been in such a place and considering I was only in- 
 duced to go under the mistaken idea that I was doing 
 good I fail to see why you should use the word ' theatre- 
 yoing ' in connection with me, doctor," said Mrs. Shaw, 
 ill-temporedly, and speaking very rapidly. I don't think 
 she liked the doctor's last phrase. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; 1 did not mean to offend," he 
 answered. " And what is your opinion of my theory, Miss 
 Gower 1 " he said, turning to me. 
 
 " I have never given the subject any consideration, 
 doctor." 
 
 "And therefore hold the same views as Doctor Car- 
 michael," put in Stadding, apparently thinking he had 
 said a very good thing.
 
 30 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Perhaps, sir, you will allow Miss Gower to give her 
 own opinion ! When you are as old as I am you too will 
 probably see fit to draw the same conclusions as I do." 
 
 " H'm, most things would be excusable under those cir- 
 cumstances ! " with spiteful significance. 
 
 The doctor drew in his breath hard ; but before he could 
 answer the carriage drew up at the gates of The Peak, and 
 he stepped out in wrathful silence. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Jan. 28. Edgar Stadding went away to-day on a visit to 
 some friends in the country ; and I am glad of it. 
 
 Feb. 10. A good long while since my last entry, and a 
 good deal has happened in the interval. It has come at 
 last. I am the most unfortunate girl that ever lived. I 
 have dreaded it ever since I overheard Mrs. Hetherwick's 
 flattering remai-k concerning myself after her quarrel with 
 Edgar Stadding in the garden that day of which quarrel 
 I suppose I may regard myself as in a measure the innocent 
 cause. But it has come from a most unexpected quarter, 
 and has arisen from a source whence, unless I am much 
 mistaken, more trouble may be looked for. 
 
 I have left The Peak. Have been ignominiously dis- 
 missed, in fact, and am writing this at the Truss o' Straw, 
 where I have temporarily taken up my quarters in the 
 room in which I saw Catherine. 
 
 Ever since I had the misfortune to rouse the dislike of 
 that vindictive old creature, Mrs. Hetherwick, the tide in 
 my affairs has steadily set against me, until the climax has 
 been reached in my summary discharge. 
 
 And what is the reason 1 
 
 A charming, romantic, Gretna Green elopement, if you 
 please, between that detestable Edgar Stadding and 
 Catherine, who is now Mrs. Stadding ! She must be mad ! 
 I would not trust my happiness in such hands for any 
 earthly consideration. I do hope there may not be the 
 seeds of future unhappiness for her in thus recklessly
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 31 
 
 throwing herself upon the mercy of that man ; for I am 
 convinced of nothing more surely than that he is utterly 
 unworthy of being trusted. I may be wrong ; I hope for 
 her sake I am. But I am afraid she is blinded to his 
 faults, and that her awaking will be a bitter one. The 
 future will show the future will show ! 
 
 V. 
 
 FEU. 10. Knowing Catherine's disposition as I did, 
 there was one thing that surprised me even more than the 
 elopement itself, and that was that she should have written 
 to me about it ; for, though ordinarily as frank and open 
 as a child, she had a horror of letter-writing. From the 
 date more than a week back it had evidently been 
 delayed. If it had only come to my hand a day or two 
 earlier, I should not have allowed Mrs. Shaw the opportunity 
 of turning me away an opportunity of which she availed 
 herself in the most venomous way. This is what Catherine 
 had to say for herself : 
 
 "Auckland, February 1ml, 1SS.1. 
 " MY DKAK OLD ETTIK, 
 
 " Whatever will you think of me ] You remember 
 what you said when you saw me at the Truss o* Straw 
 about my having a long run in the Comedy of Life in the 
 part of an old maid ? Well, neither you nor anybody else 
 will ever see me in that character. Ettie, I am Mrs. 
 Edgar Studding ! What do you think of that 1 And 1 
 haven't had to wait for leap year either. I know you are 
 not over fond of Edgar, but I hope you will try to like him 
 better now he is your brother-in-law." (Indeed, I shall do 
 nothing of the sort. Brother-in-law, indeed!) " Really, 
 he is very kind, and all that one could look for in a husband. 
 If he has been wild, it was because he had nothing to 
 steady him never had a wife to be cared for, or to care
 
 32 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 for him. I do not think you will find it in your heart to 
 blame me, though I know what a dear, strict, old-fashioned 
 thing you are in these things. I had no one to confide in 
 but you, and I was afraid to ask your advice, for I knew 
 from what you said that night at the Truss o' Straw how 
 you would take it. You will like Edgar ever so much 
 when you come to know him better, and he speaks in the 
 very kindest way of you, and seems to have formed quite 
 a high opinion of you. We are staying at the Bay View 
 in Auckland, and all we want to make us perfectly happy 
 would be to have you with us." (No doubt ! ) "To 
 show how considerate he is, he wishes our marriage kept 
 perfectly secret till he sees his way to reconcile his mother 
 to the match, because he does not know how it might affect 
 your position at The Peak if it were to become known now. 
 This, I assure you, is his only reason. Indeed, he has told 
 me as much himself, and says he knows his mother is of 
 such a hasty temper she might do or say something in her 
 excitement which might make your position uncomfortable. 
 I know I must have ruined his prospects by allowing him 
 to throw himself away upon such a useless creature as I am. 
 So you see how unselfish he is, and how full of consideration 
 for others. We must keep everything secret for the present, 
 and I know I may depend iipon you not to breathe a word to 
 any one. I have no more to say, so good-bye. 
 
 " Your loving sister, 
 
 " KATE STADDING. 
 
 " P.S. It will be useless to write, for we leave Auckland 
 in a day or so. I will write again soon." 
 
 The letter came upon me with the unexpectedness of a 
 thunderbolt. I could scarcely believe my eyes when I read 
 it. I had neither seen nor heard anything that would have 
 led me to suspect anything of the kind on the part of either 
 Stadding or Kate. The former, from what I saw of him, 
 seemed to be living idly and contentedly enough at The 
 Peak. He was away the greater part of every day either
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 33 
 
 shooting or fishing that is, he would set out with gun or 
 rod, but I can scarcely recall a single occasion on which he 
 returned with anything in the shape of spoil. What little 
 time he spent at home he passed either lolling about the 
 grounds, the embodiment of indolence and ennui, or annoy- 
 ing Mrs. Hetherwick, who appeared to entertain an absolute 
 hatred for him at last, and showed it in the most unmistak- 
 able way in her behaviour. Several times latterly he had 
 sought to break the monotony by drawing me into convers- 
 ation, but I made it a point to treat him with the frigidity 
 of an iceberg ; so he gave up the attempt, but always 
 remained scrupulously polite and conciliatory. Of his 
 mother, who is fond of him to idolatry, he took scarcely 
 any notice whole days passing without their even seeing 
 one another, for of late she had been kept indoors by an 
 attack of rheumatism. 
 
 Catherine I did not see as often as I wished, owing to 
 her obstinate determination not to call at the house a 
 determination I can very well understand now. On the 
 few occasions when I did see her she never even mentioned 
 Edgar Stadding's name, and I began to flatter myself that 
 what I had said had caused her to break off her acquaint- 
 anceship with him. She had always been frank and un- 
 reserved to a fault, and she was the last person in the 
 world f should have thought capable of keeping such a 
 secret to herself ; and yet here was her letter, showing her 
 to have been the strictest observer of the lovers' creed. 
 
 In spite of Edgar Stadding's precautions to keep it 
 secret, the knowledge of his escapade had evidently reached 
 Mrs. Shaw's ears, the information, I can well understand, 
 being furnished by Mrs. Hetherwick, who would have 
 heard sufficient from her relative, the landlady of the Truss 
 o' Straw, to form her own conclusions. 
 
 Mrs. Shaw is a woman of decision. Ueing unable to 
 revenge herself upon the real culprit, she did the next best 
 thing and turned upon the culprit's sister, and poured the 
 vials of her wrath on my devoted head.
 
 34 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Though she allowed her feelings to carry her the length 
 of turning me away at a moment's notice and that, too, 
 with the bitterest words on her lips I cannot help feeling 
 an odd kind of pity for her. Yesterday was her birthday, 
 and in consequence my two pupils had a holiday, and a 
 number of guests had been invited. I saw them wandering 
 about the grounds in twos and threes all the afternoon as I 
 sat reading in my room. They seemed to be thrown pretty 
 much upon their own resources for amusement, and a spirit 
 of depression hung over them. All the arrangements were 
 left in the hands of Mrs. Hetherwick Mrs. Shaw, who 
 appeared worried and generally out of spirits, not showing 
 herself more than the requirements of politeness rendered 
 absolutely necessary. As the place seemed all in conf vision, 
 and there were more things to be done than hands to do 
 them, I had thought of offering my services ; but the 
 amiable Mrs. H., whose face was flushed and whose temper 
 was heated by the flurry of preparation, treated my advances 
 with such sour incivility that I deemed it wisest to efface 
 myself, and remained effaced for the rest of the day accord- 
 ingly. I knew what the cause was quite well. Edgar 
 Stadding, who had promised to return from his visit to a 
 friend in the country for the occasion, had not done so, 
 and in consequence the whole affair was very much like 
 the play of " Hamlet " with the Prince of Denmark left 
 out. 
 
 During the evening I had left my room to enjoy the 
 fresh air in the garden, and was returning when Dr. 
 Carmichael, who was one of the guests, met me in the 
 passage. 
 
 " What ! Miss Gower '( " he said, drawing my arm through 
 his. "The very person I've been looking for. Where 
 have you hidden yourself all day, you rogue 1 ? I haven't so 
 much as caught the whisk of your petticoat 1 ? " 
 
 " Improving my mind by reading in my room, doctor." 
 
 " Been improving its mind, has it ? " he said, pinching 
 my ear. " I can't help pinching your ear, Miss Gower
 
 MATTHKW REPMAYNE. 35 
 
 such a pretty little ear. What advantages the gray-heads 
 have over the young ones, haven't they?" 
 
 " Yes, I find they have," I said, putting my hand to 
 my ear. 
 
 "Does it tingle? It'll tingle worse than that some 
 day." 
 
 "Then I hope it won't be soon, nor from the same 
 cause," I said, with some trepidation. 
 
 " ' My face is my fortune, sir, she said,' " chirped the 
 doctor. " Make your mind easy, Miss Gower, it's bound 
 to be soon ; only it will be some young humbug's plausible 
 tongue instead of an old man's fingers. I wonder where 
 
 your fate is to-night, Miss Gower. I wonder Listen ! " 
 
 A beam of yellow light streamed through a half opened 
 doorway along the passage, and a peal of merry laughter 
 floated to our ears. " Perhaps he is there," he said, point- 
 ing to the room ahead. " I have a laudable desire to assist 
 fate to-night ; let us go and see." 
 
 I drew back. " No, no. I am not Mrs. Shaw would 
 not " 
 
 " Tut, tut. C'ome along ; don't say ' no ' to me. Mrs. 
 Shaw," he said, as that lady appeared coming slowly along 
 the passage ; " here's a young girl who not only wishes to 
 shut herself up in her room, which is an unnatural thing 
 for a young girl to do, but would throw the blame of her 
 imprisonment on you." 
 
 We were standing under the chandelier. The light fell 
 full upon Mrs. Shaw's face as she approached, and I was 
 struck by its paleness, its look of irritation and illness. 
 She stopped for a moment as the doctor spoke, and looked 
 closely at me, her lips pressed tightly together. There was 
 a look in her eyes such as I had never seen before. If we 
 had been alone, and if there had been anything to cause 
 ill-feeling between us, I should have thought she was almost 
 about to strike me. Then she passed on again, saying, 
 " Pray do not let me stand in the way of your enjoying 
 yourself to-night, Miss Gower." It was very ungraciously
 
 36 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 said, and her manner and appearance were so strange that 
 I stood looking -after her as she walked away. 
 
 The doctor was saying, with an air of having spoken 
 several times before, " Really, Miss Gower, I shall be forced 
 to make it tingle again if you don't pay more attention to 
 your seniors." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I was not listening. You were 
 saying ?" 
 
 "That I am anxious to join the other young people. 
 Come along." 
 
 Further protest was useless, and I allowed the doctor to 
 lead me into the brilliantly-lighted room where the company 
 were collected. 
 
 " Mr. Forth," he said, to a stylishly-dressed young 
 gentleman with a pince-nez, who was passing, " allow me to 
 introduce you to Miss Gower." 
 
 Mr. Forth held his head back for a moment to bring his 
 glasses to bear on me, bowed, and was charmed to make my 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " He belongs to our own day, he does," said Dr. Car- 
 michael, as my new acquaintance passed on, being taken 
 possession of by two young ladies in pink. " He's a special 
 correspondent for half a dozen provinoial newspapers at 
 Home, and passes his time in gleaning and retailing what 
 he calls 'good stories.' He has quite made up his mind 
 that there is nothing serious in life, and is voted the very 
 best of company you'll find him everywhere. He has fie- 
 fie stories for the ladies see how those two creatures in 
 pink are giggling now who rap his knuckles with their 
 fans, and say he's a wicked fellow, and that they won't 
 listen to him ; stories lie tells over the mahogany at my 
 Lord Tom Noddy's, and stories that only bear ventilation 
 in the genial atmosphere of his club. A club do you 
 know what a club is 1 " 
 
 " Everlasting ennui, with cigars, wine, and a little more 
 wine, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Don't know but what it is," said the doctor, with an
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 37 
 
 air of deliberation. " Not bad that for a young lady of 
 your years. Well, our Special was born for the club. He 
 is possessed with a talking devil ; his tongue is a living 
 justification of What's-his-name's theory it's swung in a 
 vacuum, and having no force of gravity to check it, it goes 
 on for ever observe 1 " 
 
 " Who is that he is speaking to now ? " 
 
 " Doctor Johnson," said the doctor, promptly. 
 
 " Doctor Johnson 1 " 
 
 " Alias the Rev. Simon Quinzy, but a true and faithful 
 copy of the Lexicographer even to the stains on his waist- 
 coat. You'll hear the oracle deliver himself of something 
 in six syllables later on. Come, and I'll introduce you." 
 
 " However, they are married," a young-old lady was 
 saying to the Reverend Simon as we came near. "These 
 things are different to when I was a girl. Marriages are 
 much harder now." 
 
 " Yes, begad they are," said the Special, sotto voce, 
 dividing a wicked leer between his two companions im- 
 partially, by giving one the beginning and the other the 
 end of it, " much harder especially after the ceremony ; " 
 and the young lady in pink who clung to his left arm put 
 her fan before her face and giggled modestly. 
 
 " Nephew of Colonel Grimsby, wasn't he ? " said Dr. 
 Johnson to the well-preserved lady, who nodded her head 
 mysteriously. 
 
 " Ah, yes, old Grimsby," broke in the Special again, 
 peering about through his glasses ; " know a good story 
 about him. He was a doctor before he entered the army, 
 but do what he would he couldn't work up a connection, 
 y'know. 'No,' said his friends, 'and till you marry and 
 have a stake in the place you never will.' ' Well,' said the 
 colonel, when he told me the story, ' beinij a constitutionally 
 bashful man, and of small means besides, what was I to 
 do?' A buzz of conversation and laughter drowned the 
 Special's voice, and when I heard him again he was saying, 
 " 'She blushed, he popped, and begad they were married in
 
 38 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 a fortni't.' " The young ladies in pink giggled in concert, 
 and the one on his right said 
 
 " Really, Mr. Forth, how vulgar you do grow ! " 
 
 " She is a native of Switzerland, you say 1 " went on 
 Dr. Johnson to the old lady. " There is no objection on 
 the score of nationality a good race, a fine race." 
 
 " I don't know so much about that, sir," remarked the 
 irrepressible Special, who was in the very best of good 
 spirits. " The Swiss I've known are mighty poor specimens 
 of the genus forked radish." 
 
 " Sir," said Doctor Johnson, who seemed irritated at the 
 constant interruptions, and fronting the Special with ex- 
 panded chest " there are those who elevate every chance 
 acquaintance into a national representative, and condemn a 
 whole race because they dislike an individual." 
 
 "There he goes ; he's off," said Dr. Carmichael to me 
 behind his hand. Then to Dr. Johnson, "That's very good, 
 sir ; that's an epigram." 
 
 " No, it's the truth," said the perpetrator of the alleged 
 epigram, " and an epigram is the falsest thing outside 
 the columns of a newspaper," with a severe look at the 
 Special. 
 
 " Phew," exclaimed the latter, " that's the unkindest 
 cut of all ; that's one for my knob eh, Miss Tracey 1 " 
 
 " Really, Mr. Forth, you are so vulgar I don't under- 
 stand slang," minced the elder of the two young ladies 
 in pink. " But what about the surprise you promised 
 us 1 " 
 
 " Ah, yes, b'the way ; we're forgetting. Time's up ; 
 this wa-ay, ladies and ge'men," he said, with the affectation 
 of the air of a showman. And led by the volatile Special 
 the company made their way into an adjoining room. 
 I fere a number of chairs were arranged in a semi-circle 
 near one end of the apartment, and we all seated ourselves. 
 Everything was evidently understood by the others, but I 
 was completely in the dark as to what it all meant. There 
 was a babel of talk and merriment going on all round.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 30 
 
 The Special was sitting directly behind me, :uul was in the 
 midst of a " good story." " Of course," he was saying, " I 
 knew what the meeting was, and I knew newspaper men 
 weren't wanted there, and the colonel was the first to 
 notice me. ' What name ? ' says he, in his jerky way. 
 ' Forth,' says I. ' You are aware of the nacher of this 
 gathering,' says he ; ' may I ask if you also are a landed 
 proprietor?' ' Oh, certainly,' says I. 'Forth of Fourth 
 Estate, begad." The others laughed, and the colonel 
 blushed pretty loudly you know his way of colouring up 
 at everything and sat down." 
 
 Some of those around the Special laughed, and one of 
 the Misses Tracey said "Yes?" in a perplexed way, as if 
 there were more to come, and she had failed to see the 
 point. 
 
 " Well ? " said the Special. 
 
 " What was the joke ? " asked the lady, in bewilderment. 
 
 " Forth Fourth Estate, don't you see ? " explained the 
 Special, sheepishly. 
 
 " O-h yes," said Miss Tracey, vaguely, leaving the 
 Special boring his glass into his eye, in silent chagrin at 
 having his story spoilt. 
 
 Presently a curtain that had been stretched across the 
 room in front of us was drawn aside. Some one cart-fully 
 got up in the character of a typical Irishman, with a sjn-ig 
 of shamrock in his button-hole, and a blackthorn under 
 his arm, entered by a side door, and then I knew that it 
 was a charade that was about to be performed. 
 
 " Miss Gower," said a voice in a harsh whisper, and 
 looking round, I saw Mrs. Hetherwick standing at the 
 entrance to the room. " You are wanted if you please, 
 miss." 
 
 I was surprised at her tone and the expression of her 
 face. She looked almost plensed -which was a bad omen. 
 
 "Mrs. Shaw would like to see you in her room if 
 you are not otherwise engaged," she went on, with a 
 disagreeable suggestion of irony in her manner, and 1
 
 4U MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 followed hei % to Mrs. Shaw's room. She entered after me, 
 and sat down in the corner farthest away from the light. 
 
 Mrs. Shaw was sitting with her elbow on the table and 
 her head resting on her hand. There was a letter and 
 envelope lying beside her, where they appeared to have 
 been tossed. She pushed a small pile of coins towards 
 me and said : " There is your salary, Miss Gower. I 
 have paid you in full for two months in lieu of a month's 
 notice -to which you are entitled, I believe," she added 
 grudgingly. 
 
 A sleek tortoise-shell cat, which had been sleeping on 
 the hearth-rug, got up, stretched herself, walked away, 
 and sprang into Mrs. Hetherwick's bony lap, where it lay, 
 filling the room with its purr in the dead pause. Mrs. 
 Hetherwick sat with her eyes frozen open and glittering 
 in the shadow like the cat's, and fixed in a steady glare on 
 my face. She sniffed contemptuously as Mrs. Shaw spoke, 
 which, being translated, meant she scouted the idea of my 
 being entitled to anything. 
 
 "I do not understand you, Mrs. Shaw," I said, in 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " I said that that is the amount of your salary, with a 
 month's pay in addition in lieu of a month's notice. You 
 will please consider your engagement with me at an end," 
 repeated Mrs. Shaw, speaking with painful distinctness. 
 
 " May I ask why you have taken this step, Mrs. 
 Shaw ? " I ventured, scarcely believing my ears, and won- 
 dering what could have happened. " Have I not given 
 satisfaction ? " 
 
 " As far as your instruction to Annie and May are 
 concerned, I've no particular fault to find. It's not on 
 account of inefficiency." 
 
 Another sniff from the corner. Translation of same : 
 " Granting her too much even at that ! " 
 
 " I should like to know, then, what is the ground of 
 complaint. I am not aware of having offended in any 
 way."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 41 
 
 A sniff that was almost a gasp from the corner this time. 
 Shaw, whose face was shaded by her hand, looked 
 steadily at me before speaking. 
 
 " I must confess you surprise me, Miss. Gower. You 
 are not aware of anything that would urge me to take this 
 step?" 
 
 "Ha, indeed !" came a hoarse whisper from the corner. 
 
 I scarcely know what indistinct suspicion flashed upon 
 my mind and made me hesitate as I said 
 
 " No, Mrs. Shaw, I do not. I flattered myself I had 
 afforded no room for dissatisfaction. From the fact of my 
 being dismissed in this way I should suppose that something 
 serious 
 
 " It is something serious, Miss Gower. You associate, I 
 believe, with a person named Bonville Ada de Bonville, as 
 she calls herself 1 " 
 
 Do what I would I could not prevent my colour rising 
 as she spoke. 1 thought of Edgar Stadding's absence, and 
 something like a suspicion of what had taken place and 
 which I must, I think, have imbibed from the air began 
 to take shape in my mind, and held me speechless and 
 overwhelmed with confusion. A sniff, eloquent with sug- 
 gestion, from the corner, increased my embarrassment. 
 Mrs. Shaw, whom it had plainly cost an effort to restrain 
 herself, rose from her chair and approached me with her 
 hand clenched and half raised as if she were about to strike 
 me. I knew how passionate she could be when excited, 
 and I drew back. Mrs. Hetherwick started up so quickly 
 that the suddenly-awakened cat flew out at the door with 
 an angry spit. 
 
 " Emily, Emily," she? cried, sinking all appearance of 
 the servant in the confidante, "don't forget yourself! 
 Don't demean yourself by touching the nasty, scheming 
 tiling." 
 
 Mrs. Shaw stopped within a pace of me, and pushed her 
 face close up to mine. Her lips wei*e white and twitching 
 with passion.
 
 4-2 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " if I had only known your character at 
 the beginning as I know it now, my lady the unprincipled 
 hussy that you are ! " 
 
 "Mrs. Shaw ! " I cried, in amazement, "what does this 
 mean ? To whom are you speaking?" 
 
 " You brazen-faced, thing ! Do you attempt to carry it 
 off with me that way ?" (" Don't demean yourself, Emily; 
 don't demean yourself," interjected Mrs. Hetherwick). 
 " This is what you and that painted Jezebel from the 
 theatre have hatched out between you ! You may well 
 blush to steal into an honest woman's house and and 
 
 and You rile pair, to trap such as he is into a marriage 
 
 with such as you and your set are. You planned it from 
 the first you know you did " 
 
 " Didn't-I-see-them-together-in-the-garden-and-wasn't-she- 
 the-go-between-for-that-creature-at-my-sister's ] " clattered 
 011 the Hetherwick, breathlessly, and so rapidly that her 
 sentences ran together into one long word. " I-knew-from- 
 the-beginning-what - it-would - be - but-what-was-the-use-of-my 
 saying-anything ! Don't dem 
 
 "You hold your tongue," with a passionate stamp. 
 (" Oh, indeed ! " from the amazed Hetherwick.) " Now, 
 madam, I'll bandy no more words with you, for fear I 
 should forget myself. There's your money take it and 
 go ! Pack up your traps and leave this house to-morrow 
 morning, bag and baggage, and never darken my doors 
 again. D'ye hear 1 " And Mrs. Shaw stamped on the floor 
 again, the natural vulgarity of her character displaying 
 itself in every word and gesture. 
 
 It is one of my failings to be for ever unequal to an 
 emergency. I was unequal to this one. When I should 
 have spoken hotly in my own defence, the only words that 
 came to my lips were, " Very well, Mrs. Shaw ; " and 
 though I felt the spirit of resistance strong within me, 
 words refused to come, and I turned and walked from the 
 room. 
 
 As I passed along the passage 1 met the company troop-
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNK. 4.') 
 
 ing out of the room where I had left them ; and though I 
 was too agitated and nervous to consciously heed what they 
 said or did, yet in a dull mechanical way I saw every flirt of 
 fan or hand, and noted every word that passed. The Special 
 ' was among the foremost, and was explaining to some one 
 beside him, " Pat and riot Patriot. Don't you see 1 " 
 
 " Oh, how clever you are ! How ever did you come to 
 think of it 1 ?" said a voice, a female one, in accents of 
 tender admiration, as they turned into another passage, 
 and passed beyond ear-shot. 
 
 When I entered my room Catherine's letter was lying on 
 the table. That explained everything, though there was 
 little that required explanation. 
 
 1 had not possessed a very extensive wardrobe when I 
 arrived at The Peak, and had added little to it afterwards, 
 so my preparations for departure were soon made. I arose 
 early in the morning, and not wishing to risk a meeting 
 with either Mrs. Shaw or the Hetherwick, I made an 
 undignified exit before any one was out of bed, and came 
 down here to the Truss o' Straw, bringing all my worldly 
 possessions with me in a portmanteau and a brown-paper 
 parcel. 
 
 VI. 
 
 FERNRIDGK, MAUCH 29. - There is a tinge of da/./ling 
 lustre on the hills, and this dawn is abroad in all the fresh- 
 ness of an autumn morning. I have risen early to make 
 up my lee way with uiv diary, and there is not a soul 
 stirring in the house. Through my open window comes 
 the breath that has been wandering all night over the 
 breasts of the mountains and fields, and between sweet- 
 scented hedges. I can just catch the sheen of the daisies 
 on the upland. Beyond is the white line of breakers on 
 the beach, their thunder hushed to a loud rustle. 
 
 D
 
 44 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 This is the first entry I have made headed " Fernridge," 
 though it must be something like six or seven weeks since 
 I came here. I am beginning to think I am not the most 
 unfortunate girl that ever lived after all. I am rather 
 ashamed of having written it, in fact ; but whatever I have 
 written I have written, and shall let it stay. 
 
 Looking back at the time I spent at The Peak if it were 
 not for the dates I should not be able to say whether it 
 were weeks or months : time has flown so quickly and 
 pleasantly since then and leaving out of consideration, of 
 course, the circumstances under which I left, there is 
 nothing beyond the groundless spite of Mrs. Hetherwick 
 that I can recall as particularly unpleasant in itself ; but 
 life there was ground down to such a monotonous, routine 
 kind of existence, that when I left, it was with a feeling 
 akin to escaping from a prison. Life at The Peak and life 
 at Fernridge are two very different things ; and Mrs. Shaw 
 and Miss Winterson are two very different people. I feel 
 grateful to Dr. Carmichael for having been the means of 
 bringing me here. 
 
 And as I mean this to be a complete register of all that 
 happens to me I have the same confidence as A.S.P. in 
 A Day 's Ride that I am anticipating a future biography 
 I had better make a note of how that came about. 
 
 It was my second day at the Truss o' Straw, and I was 
 becoming unpleasantly conscious that Mrs. Beazely, the 
 landlady, was keeping a close watch upon me, with a view, 
 I suppose, of forwarding a few more items to The Peak, 
 for, from what Mrs. Hetherwick had said, it was plain 
 enough Mrs. B. had already acted the part of spy upon 
 Catherine. She was continually meeting me at the most 
 unexpected times and places, always with an elaborate 
 appearance of accident, always with apologies for her 
 intrusion. Fortunately for me she had a dry, irrepressible 
 cough. That cough was in the atmosphere all day long. 
 I heard smothered explosions in the passage, under the 
 window, outside my door ; boards creaked with her stealthy
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNK 45 
 
 approach, and visions of a dirty drab petticoat were for 
 ever meeting my eyes at odd corners. I grew sick to deatli 
 of the creature's razor face she has the features of Mrs. 
 Hetherwick, with the addition of a pair of blank, expres- 
 sionless, gray eyes, and a pointed nose with an everlasting 
 and vivid blush on it, suggestive of a liberal indulgence in 
 her own wares. 
 
 I had beeii so suddenly thrown upon my own resources 
 that I had not the slightest idea as to what it would be 
 best to do, beyond a vague intention of looking somewhere 
 for another situation ; but one thing I had made up my 
 mind upon, and that was to leave the Truss o" Straw and 
 its spying mistress at once. 
 
 I had done what little packing up there was to do, and 
 was on the point of paying my bill preparatory to setting 
 out for I scarcely knew where, in search of I scarcely knew 
 what, when Mrs. Beazely put her head round the door in 
 her stealthy fashion and said a gentleman wished to see me. 
 
 " Excuse me, my good woman," said a familiar voice in 
 the passage, and the landlady drew back, and Dr. Carmichael 
 came into the room. 
 
 " My dear Miss Gower," he said, coming forward with 
 extended hand, " how do you dot " 
 
 "Thank you, doctor," I said, smiling for I was really 
 glad to see him " I am very well." 
 
 " H'm," he said, sitting down and wiping his forehead. 
 Then, in his direct way, and with a quizzical look in his 
 eyes, " So you've done it now, it seems ? " 
 
 I was not sure how much ho knew, and answered 
 cautiously 
 
 " Yes, unfortunately I have been unlucky enough to 
 offend Mrs. Shaw." 
 
 il It's that old cat Iletherwick -I'll take my oath it is," 
 said the doctor. " I know the old beldame of old. There's 
 no mischief going but what she has a finger in the pie." 
 
 " You may say the whole hand in this case, doctor," I 
 said.
 
 46 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Yes, I'm convinced of it." He paused and looked at 
 the floor in silence for a moment or two. " And now, 
 what do you suppose you're going to do 1 You've not been 
 foolish enough to wear your heart on your sleeve for that 
 red-nosed hussy I found outside your door to peck at 
 you've not let her worm anything out of you? " 
 
 "Nothing," I said, laughing at his odd way of putting 
 it. " I've done my best to keep her at a distance which 
 I find a pretty hard thing to do." 
 
 "The old catamaran she's left the print of her nose on 
 the lock of the door as it is. But about what we are to do 
 with you. You know, my dear, I've been in the world long 
 enough to understand your position," he said, leaning for- 
 ward in his chair, and speaking in a confidential tone. 
 " You're young and you've got a pretty face of your own 
 and, by gad, before you're half my age you'll wish you 
 had to run the Bank of England sooner than have that 
 responsibility. Now, what are you thinking of doing with 
 yourself?" 
 
 "I'm afraid, doctor, I'm not fitted for much else than 
 the kind of place I've just left." 
 
 " Not fitted," he said to himself, shaking his head. 
 "The modern girl, the modern girl, the Lord deliver us 
 from the modern girl. Well," he went on after a pause, "I 
 know an old lady, one with no Hetherwick about her to set 
 you by the ears, either. She's more or less of an invalid, 
 and needs some one in the shape of a companion some one 
 to read to her, and so on the poor old lady's eyes are not 
 what they used to be ; she lias a preference for Dr. Watts' 
 hymns and the Psalms in metre on Sundays, and is a nice 
 old-fashioned body I think you will take to immensely." 
 
 " No children 1 " I asked ; and I scarcely know whether 
 I was pleased or disappointed a little of each, I think, 
 and for different reasons when he said 
 
 "No children nor followers," which latter he threw in 
 as an afterthought. " She has a sister, a confirmed invalid, 
 who lives with her, that's all. Come, shall I say it's a
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNK. 4-7 
 
 bargain] She commissioned me to find a suitable 1 young 
 person who could always be near her, who was of good 
 principles and dressed plainly. She stipulated for nothing 
 else except that a cripple would be preferred." 
 
 "A cripple?" 
 
 " A cripple. You will understand that after you've 
 known her a week. She has a number of quaint old bodies 
 she calls her pensioners, who live on her bounty. And if 
 you were only far gone in consumption, or had a wooden 
 leg, you'd make her life happy, for she'd feel then that she 
 was helping some one who needed it." 
 
 "You said something about a sister " I began. 
 
 I am sure Dr. Carmichael would have been quite justified 
 in showing some impatience at the half-hearted way in 
 which I met this kind offer, but he said, just as good- 
 temperedly as ever 
 
 "My dear girl, you needn't concern yourself about (he 
 sister. Miss Maria Ann, I am sorry to say, is paralytic ; 
 she mostly keeps her own room, has her own attendant, 
 and will in no way interfere with you. Now," he sai.l, 
 " you are not an ordinary chit of a girl. If you were I 
 should not take the interest in you that I do. The people 
 are good people, and you should get on well with them. 
 As a woman of common sense, yon know you have yourself 
 to provide for and your own way to make in the world, 
 and you'll find the world a very rough world, where the 
 weakest go to the wall. As for marriage lie 
 
 shrugged his shoulders, hopeless of saying what he thought 
 on that point, and stopped and looked at me for my answer. 
 
 " Doctor," I said, " you have been very kind, and 1 
 should be very ungrateful if I didn't accept 
 
 "Then it's a bargain," he said in a tone that ended the 
 matter, and putting up his hand to stop anything in the 
 way of thanks, "and you can pack up your traps for Island 
 Bay as soon as you like] I'll write your letter of 
 introduction," and he sat down at the table at once. The 
 letter was a very short one, but by the time it was
 
 48 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 finished the doctor had changed his mood. He got up from 
 his chair, took a turn or two thoughtfully up and down the 
 room, and then coming back again said perplexedly 
 
 "Esther, what is all this pudder at The Peak? Mrs. 
 Shaw tells me that Edgar has made a fool of himself with 
 an actress, and that you are mixed up in it. But what 
 between temper and tears and they are the first tears I 
 have ever seen on Mrs. Shaw's face and the screechings of 
 the Hetherwick, I haven't an idea what it's all about ; but 
 I am afraid she's very much cut up over it. Do you know 
 what it is 1 
 
 What was I to say? After the kindness he had shown 
 me I couldn't treat his question as 1 should have liked to 
 do, and avoided it. In any case I should not have cared 
 to tell him what had really happened, and now I was of 
 course bound to strict secrecy by Kate's letter. Though 
 there was a smack of eccentricity in everything that he 
 said and did, I had every confidence in the doctor's 
 prudence ; and had the time for it not gone by, his advice 
 would have been the first I should have sought ; but it was 
 too late for anything of the kind now. 
 
 I gave the only answer that presented itself, and I know 
 it was suspiciously like a white lie. 
 
 " I never liked Edgar Stadding from the beginning," I 
 said, "and never even spoke to him if I could help it, and 
 I think much less of him now. As for having anything to 
 do with his last escapade, I had not the slightest idea what 
 he was going to do. And if I had, it would have been the 
 last thing in the world I should have thought of to advise 
 any one to trust their happiness in his hands," I added, with 
 a touch of bitterness I could not keep back. 
 
 " H'm," said the doctor, thoughtfully, prodding the 
 carpet with his stick. " You speak pretty strongly ; but I 
 thought as much I thought as much. You have no idea 
 who the girl but of course you haven't. Some scheming 
 chit off the boards, I suppose, who wanted to catch a 
 husband," he went on, looking at me in an absent-minded
 
 MATTHEW HED.MAYNK. 4!) 
 
 way, as if I was a long distance off, and apparently not 
 noticing the hot flush his last words had called to my face. 
 "I'm sorry for Mrs. Shaw. She has no one in the world 
 but the two bits of girls and Edgar and all her hopes 
 were built on him. She thought there was a career before 
 him, and expected a great deal from him a great deal too 
 much in my opinion, from what I know of him. And now 
 all that's over, for God knows where this will end with 
 such a man as he. Yes, I'm very sorry for Mrs. Shaw. 
 I don't think you understood her, or her you. You didn't 
 agree ; you were like acid and alkali." 
 
 "Very like acid on the one side," I admitted, tartly. 
 " / am sorry for 
 
 " For the girl," he said, as I stopped confusedly ; " and 
 so am I. Her future Heaven knows what her future 
 will be with such a man 1 I know him well." He stopped 
 and shook his head despondently, and looked at his watch. 
 " Well, well, I must go. You won't forget to put yourself 
 in evidence at Island Bay as soon as you can ? " 
 
 My own fears on Catherine's behalf were revived by 
 what the doctor had said, and I longed to question him 
 further, but before I could find words which, in my 
 position was not an easy thing to do he had shaken hands 
 and gone. 
 
 I arrived at Fernridge next day, and took a decided 
 liking to the place and its mistress at once. It has an odd, 
 old-fashioned air for so young a country. You would 
 almost think it had been brought bodily from some out-of- 
 the-way nook in the Old Country and set up here, like a 
 tabernacle in the wilderness. I suppose this is owing to 
 the fact of its being built on the lines of an old water- 
 colour picture that hangs up in the best room, with the 
 inscription, " Our Old Home, :> under it. Miss \Vinterson 
 has a very sentimental regard for this picture, and had her 
 present residence built to resemble it, so as to remind her 
 of the old place where she passed her girlhood. " I did
 
 50 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 the house myself, my dear," she said, when she saw me 
 looking at it, " and Miss Maria Ann " (she always speaks 
 of her sister by her full name) "did the scenery. Here 
 was mother's room, where she died I am afraid to think 
 how many years ago ; this was mine, and this Miss Maria 
 Ann's by the chimney here. What a long, long time ago 
 it does seem, to be sure ! Do you think the house and the 
 picture alike ?" I certainly did. I had noticed it at once, 
 and pleased the old lady intensely by telling her so. 
 
 The house is a great deal larger than is necessary for 
 two old ladies and their one or two servants, and is full of 
 jutting gables that thrust themselves out on the paths, and 
 so obtrude themselves on you and prevent your seeing the 
 whole line of frontage at once, that in walking around the 
 house, and seeing it a bit at a time, you would think it 
 much larger than it really is. Nearly every room has 
 French casements ; and creeping plants quite cover the 
 front and sides of the house and that so closely that 
 abrupt openings are cut in the foliage around each door 
 and window. At the back is the fruit garden ; at the 
 sides and in front, except for a delicate oblong box-hedged 
 little patch of flowers opposite each window, are about two 
 acres of smooth, green, velvety turf, without a single shrub 
 or anything to break the beautiful close-cut surface ; and 
 over this lawn the gardener, a very ancient retainer, 
 ambles for two or three hours every day behind a clatter- 
 ing lawn-mower, with a loudly-checked handkerchief 
 fluttering round his head to protect him from the heat, 
 and his shoulders stooped so low down, and his elbows 
 stuck so far out behind, that he looks like some giant 
 grasshopper. On three sides the grounds are bordered by 
 high lines of thick-leaved evergreen trees, which almost 
 completely shut out the view. In front there is a low 
 holly hedge, with a gate painted green to correspond ; and 
 looking over this hedge as you can do from any of the 
 front windows you see a stretch of daisy-spangled plain, 
 which dies away at the distance of about half a mile into
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 51 
 
 a broad bonier of yellow beach, on which the waves foara 
 and beat all day long, sometimes in a hoarse nmfHcd roar, 
 sometimes with a scarcely audible rustle. As 1 look out 
 at them now they stretch in a long line of milky white 
 between the two craggy grass-crowned bluffs that stand at 
 either end of the beach. Running in a kind of zig-zag, 
 midway across the plain is a narrow road, bordered with 
 furze, which seems almost to blaze in the sunlight, with its 
 garish yellow bloom. The road is so seldom used that, 
 except for a strip along the crown, the grass has covered 
 its sides very nearly throughout its whole length. Alto- 
 gether it is a delightful place to be in, and I don't think I 
 was ever more completely satisfied in my life. I could live 
 and die here with perfect satisfaction. 
 
 I have already said that the Misses Wintersou and Mrs. 
 Shaw are very different people, and so they are. One 
 would scarcely suppose they belonged to the same race. 
 The two Misses AVinterson are natives of England, and 
 why they should ever have left it, and come out here, is a 
 mystery, for they have not an atom of the material which 
 either colonists or emigrants are made of. They seem to 
 have come out quite alone and unprotected too, indeed, 
 from what one can gather from their conversation, one 
 would scarcely suppose thei-e had ever been a male in their 
 family at all. Only once have I heard an accidental 
 reference to a certain legendary brother. Miss Dorothy 
 Ann (it is only now and then 1 see Miss Maria Ann) 
 always speaks of their life in Kngland in a wistful, 
 regretful sort of way ; she was plainly sorry to leave it, 
 but never yet has she expressed a wish to go back again. 
 
 There are only two servants, John, the gardener 
 he apparently has no surname, or else has given it up 
 as obsolete and unnecessary and a girl named Martha 
 MacDougal who attends upon Miss Maria Ann. I do 
 not see much of her, and what I have seen I do not like. 
 As is often the case with people who attend on the sick, 
 her temper which I should not suppose had ever been very
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 good, lias been spoiled beyond redemption, and is made 
 even worse by the constant criticism she is subjected to on 
 the part of John, whose " wut " is more remarkable for its 
 breadth than its point. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ONE would scarcely credit what a call there is upon the 
 Miss Wintersons' charity. They have comparatively quite 
 a number of old men and women on their list. But 
 many though they are, there are no impostors among 
 them, for long experience has made Miss Dorothy Ann as 
 sharp as the sharpest beadle in Bumbledom in deciding 
 on the claims of would-be pensioners. They include two 
 widows of soldiers who were killed in the Maori war, who 
 do not receive sufficient recognition from a grateful country 
 to enable them to live independent of charity, and other 
 families whose breadwinners have in some way been taken 
 from them. If she did not care for the poor old bodies, 
 Miss Dorothy Ann says, just as Dr. Johnson might have 
 said, they would have to go to the Benevolent Institution, 
 which is quite true, and that she says she could not bear 
 to think of. 
 
 April 3. I have already made several friends among 
 the people here, and gained an admirer yesterday in the 
 person of the most remarkable boy it has over been my 
 fortune to meet. He has the quaint name of Pure-in- 
 J Leart Love-God Bundle, and is the strangest mixture of 
 childishness and precocious intelligence one can imagine. 
 It is hard to say which quality is the most marked. It is, 
 I suppose, the outcome of the lonely, isolated kind of life 
 he has been compelled to lead, for he is a helpless cripple, 
 and has been so from his birth. He comes out strong in 
 conversation, his brain having developed beyond his years,
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 53 
 
 while his body has shrivelled under his disease. He is the 
 most lovable little fellow I have ever known. 
 
 I made his acquaintance through visiting his mother in 
 company with Miss Dorothy Ann yesterday evening. The 
 widow Bundle's house stands in the corner of a piece of 
 ground a quarter of an acre in extent, and is remarkable 
 as being the oldest building in the place. It is built of 
 the trunks of fern-trees, which have numberless little green 
 sprouts growing out from the chinks and crannies on the 
 outer side of the walls. It has a tottering, old-fashioned 
 chimney, built in the slap-dash style of the early days, and 
 so full of wrinkles and cracks that it gives every promise 
 of descending upon the roof before long in an avalanche 
 of bricks and mortar. 
 
 Mrs. Bundle, with her daughter, was in the midst of her 
 meal of meals tea when we entered. As far as neatness 
 and cleanliness go, both the old lady and her belongings 
 were beyond reproach, but she seemed to consider it 
 necessary to say in an apologetic way, as people in her 
 position will persist in doing, as she dusted a couple of 
 chairs with her apron, that *he had been up to her eyes in 
 work just before we came, and was all in a muddle. The 
 room was so dimly lighted, that, though it was still early in 
 the evening, it was only when Mrs. Bundle threw a remark 
 into the dimness at one end of the room that I became 
 aware there was any one else present besides herself and 
 her daughter. 
 
 " Pure-in-Heart," she said, in that tone of make-believo 
 gaiety in which mothers speak to sick children, " hero's 
 two ladies come to see you. You remember Miss Winter- 
 son, don't you ? His memory for some things is a'niost 
 gone, ma'am ; he seems to have forgotten a many tilings 
 sin' he's bin away," she said in an explanatory aside to 
 Miss Winterson, who had made her way to the child's side 
 and was speaking kindly to him. 
 
 "Oh, but he remembers me; don't you, Pure-in-Heart V 
 said Miss Dorothy Ann. "And here's another friend I've
 
 5-4 MATTHEW 11EDMAYNE. 
 
 brought you. This is Miss Gower you can think of 
 ' Gower,' can't you 1 " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said the little fellow in the faintest of 
 voices, smiling up at me as I stooped down and kissed his 
 mite of a face. Sarah Bundle threw some sticks on the 
 fire, and the flames shot up and lighted the room. A 
 moment before I had had a vision of a little shrunken 
 body and weazened face turned up to mine in the dusk, 
 but now I found I was holding the hand of the smallest 
 child of his age I had ever met. He must have been 
 thirteen or fourteen years old ; and though his limbs were 
 those of a mere child, his face had the worn, troubled look 
 of one who had almost lived out his allotted span. He 
 was hopelessly deformed, and so weak that he made no 
 attempt to move from his chair, where he was half sitting, 
 half lying. He had that look of patient intelligence 
 beyond his age so often seen in invalid children, and which 
 always strikes upon one with such a sense of pity and 
 foreboding. There was an ancient-looking, well-thumbed 
 volume lying on the table near him, and seeing me glance 
 at it, he drew it towards him. 
 
 "Would you like to see what I've got here, missl" he 
 said, clasping it in his arms and smiling, and holding the 
 leaves ajar to inflame my curiosity with a glance inside, 
 and then clapping them together again tantalizingly. 
 
 " You must know that I don't let every one look into 
 this," he went on in a tone to make me duly value my 
 privilege. " This is like the wishing-cap of What's-his- 
 name to me, and you'd never guess what it is never. 
 Though I can't move, I can travel most anywhere I like. 
 I may have nobody but mother and Sarah in the room, 
 and yet have half the world around me. I can sit here in 
 this weary old chair of mine, and yet bo in a palace. I 
 can lie quite still and close my eyes and sail away, away, 
 over the ocean, and be in India or China or what not and 
 all through the magic of this musty old book. Now, 
 guess," commanded the oracle.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 55 
 
 It was quite exciting. Mrs. Bundle and Sarah looked 
 on and smiled, and grew so interested that they let their 
 tea grow cold. Miss Dorothy Ann was a victim to the 
 pangs of a morbid curiosity, though I suspect the inscrut- 
 able conundrum was not as new to her as she made out. 
 
 "A history?" I ventured. 
 
 "No," with a self-satisfied shake of the head, and a hug 
 at the book. 
 
 "A book of travel?" 
 
 "No," with another shake and another hug. "You're 
 quite cold yet. Not near it." 
 
 " Arabian Nights ? " suggested Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 recklessly. 
 
 "No O," said little Pure-in-Heart, with such open 
 derision that Miss Dorothy Ann quite collapsed. " Not 
 within oh, you can't guess at all," he said, in despair of 
 making anything of Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 " A picture book ? " I said. 
 
 " No-o," said Pure in-Heart, hesitatingly, and pursing up 
 his lips as he seemed to find himself becoming closely pressed ; 
 "but you're pretty hot you're getting nearer now." 
 
 "A portrait album ?" 
 
 " Well, you're right and you're wrong," announced 
 Pure-in-IIeart, oracularly, now almost at bay ; " for there 
 are pictures of faces in it too. But I expect you're as near 
 as you'll get. That's as near as most people get with me," 
 he said, with the consciousness of being a master in his art. 
 " You'd never guess, if you tried for ever so long. There," 
 he concluded, with a grand burst of revelation, " it's a 
 Book of Stamps ! " and he dazzled us by throwing it open 
 before us. 
 
 "Here's China, India, Canada, France, Italy oh, 
 most every place in the world, he rattled on, excitedly, 
 "and here's one I gave it a whole page to itself one 
 from Cyprus. You've never seen anything like this before, 
 have you, Miss Gower ? " he asked, with an abrupt pause, 
 and speaking a voice divided between pride in his ex-
 
 56 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 traordinary treasure, and apprehension lest somebody else 
 might be able to boast a rival display. 
 
 " Never," I said. " Why, you're a regular little Post- 
 master-General. ' 
 
 "Yes, ain't II" he acquiesced. " I don't suppose," with 
 sudden thoughtfulness, " there's anybody anywhere got a 
 collection like me. You see, it takes up a good deal of 
 one's time to do it thoroughly. But people are very good 
 to me, and bring me all the stamps they can lay hands on, 
 because they know there's nothing I care for as I do them. 
 And then you know I can take out my book and sit down 
 quiet of a night in front of the fire without bothering 
 any one and I know I've been a great burden," he added, 
 opening his eyes widely, " it's a wonder, indeed, I was ever 
 reared " 
 
 " Bless his kind little heart," interjected Mrs. Bundle, in 
 a stage whisper, to Miss Dorothy Ann, " the patient little 
 sufferer that he was ! " 
 
 " And how carefully you must have taken them off, 
 Pure-in-Heart," I said, for I could not see a defaced stamp 
 in the whole collection. 
 
 " Oh, that," said Pure-in-Heart, " is because I never peel 
 them off the envelope, you know. I used to at first ; but 
 the best way is to cut the stamp out and leave the piece of 
 the envelope sticking on underneath it. See, all mine are 
 done that way, and I never tear one of them. And then 
 I tell myself stories about 'em for hours in my way of it," 
 he went on in a low voice, looking in a dreamy way into 
 the fire, " stories I make out of my own head, you know. 
 I open the book and come across India, p'raps, a stamp 
 that's had Hindoo hands on it, and been carried through 
 towns and towns of India, and regularly got the flavour of 
 India worked into it, as it were, and come miles and miles 
 over the ocean among thousands and thousands of people. 
 And I think how first of all some bird, very likely an 
 eagle, dropped a seed, and it grew and grew, and the rain 
 fell on it and watered it, and the sun shone on it and
 
 MATTHEW T1EDMAYXE. 57 
 
 scorched it, but still it gi-ew up into a bush. Great slimy 
 monsters in some river may have swam under it and 
 snapped at it with their great teeth, or poor little dead 
 children that their mothers had thrown into the Ganges 
 may have come floating by it, or some tired pilgrim going 
 to some shrine may have lain down in its shade and slept 
 while the birds sang to him out of it. And clothes were 
 made out of it and worn, and sold to some paper-mill ; and 
 yet it was meant some day to fall into the hands of a sick 
 little cripple miles and miles away, and very likely not 
 born then, in the shape of a square little bit of paper with 
 the Queen's head on it." 
 
 Mrs. Bundle and Sarah listened and looked on in silence, 
 quite oblivious of there being such an institution as tea in 
 existence. Miss Dorothy Ann sat with her eyes bent upou 
 the little fellow with a look of sympathetic interest. I had 
 to suppress my very strong doubts as to the correctness of his 
 natural history, but it was impossible not to feel interested. 
 
 " Yes, it's a wonderful thing is a stamp," said Pure-in- 
 Heart, stroking the open page of the book reflectively, " and 
 they've all of 'em got a history of their own if one only 
 knew how to read it. Some come on black-edged envelopes 
 1 remember one coming lo-o-ng ago when poor father was 
 killed and then I can fancy people crying over them ; some 
 tell of fortunes made and lost, and good luck and bad luck, 
 and all sorts of secrets, and all that goes on in the hurly- 
 burly world that I can never join in." There was a tone 
 of regret in his voice as he paused for a moment, but he 
 went on again as cheerfully as ever. " But what I can't 
 help thinking of, Miss Gower, is, how impossible it is to 
 keep a particular stamp from coming into my hands if it's 
 meant to come. / don't think there's any surh thing as 
 chance, y'know -and who knows but what the same Power 
 that sets all these going just to please a poor weak little 
 invalid, mayn't somehow make some use of what he does in 
 Jtis turn." 
 
 " The very idea," said Mrs. Bundle, in her tearful tremor
 
 58 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 again ; " but that's how he always rattles on. He would 
 be quite contented, he says, to be just as he is all his life if 
 only in some way he could be made of use as if his innocent 
 bits of stamps could be of use " 
 
 " Well, mother," mildly protested little Pure-in-Heart, 
 " who knows but what they may be. / don't know how, 
 nobody knows how ; but still it may be, mightn't it, Miss 
 Gower 1 " 
 
 " Quite right, Pure-in-Heart," put in Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 " You know what Milton says in that book I gave you, 
 where the leaf is turned down. ' They also serve ' you 
 know the rest." 
 
 " ' They also serve who who only ' 
 
 "'Who only stand' yes, go on," said Miss Dorothy 
 Ann, nodding encouragingly. 
 
 "'And wait' 'They also serve who only stand and 
 wait.' I've got it," cried the delighted Pure-in-Heart, with 
 a triumphant flourish. " I'll go and look it up," and with a 
 dexterity that spoke more plainly than anything else could 
 have done of the length of time he had been condemned to 
 that means of moving himself from place to place, he 
 wheeled his chair into the next room. 
 
 " What a remarkable boy, Mrs. Bundle," I said, turning 
 to his mother. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Bundle, looking at me with very red 
 eyes she had been crying quietly into her handkerchief 
 " everybody says so that sees him. And it's that that 
 makes me fear for him more than anything else. I wish, 
 d'y'know, in my own heart, he was more like other children. 
 It's his book knowledge and his style of talkin', and his 
 odd old-fashioned ways and what not, that makes me think 
 oftentimes I shall lose him he's more like a man of fifty 
 in his talk than a boy of fourteen. And I've noticed it all 
 the more sin' he's come back from havin' bin away from 
 home ; his memory's a' most clean gone, and he talks more 
 out of his own head than he used. He'd repeat by the 
 whole hour together, if you only encouraged him, what he'd
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 59 
 
 picked up from books rhymes and bits of things but now 
 he scarce remembers one of the people he used to know, 
 though he won't own it, and makes believe he does. And 
 he does go on so about heaven, and goodness only knows 
 what all, when there's no one about oh dear." 
 
 " Never mind, Mrs. Bundle ; you mustn't think of it in 
 that way. His talents are given to him to make up for his 
 affliction," said Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 " Besides," put in Sarah, with an effort at consolation, 
 " he hasn't got so much talent." 
 
 " I hope it may be nothing more, ma'am, I'm sure," said 
 Mrs. Bundle, doubtfully ; " but it makes a body's heart 
 ache to hear him run on so. It's like as if it were true as 
 my poor Bundle used to say his lips have been touched with 
 a cinder from the altar. It was my poor Bundle as give 
 him his name, you remember, ma'am," she added, with an 
 apologetic quaver in her voice, and a sidelong look at me 
 ' Pure-in-Heart Love-God Bundle.' " 
 
 "And a very good name, too," said Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 promptly. 
 
 "It's good enough, as far as that goes, and with a good 
 meaning to it, I'm sure ; but one doesn't know," and Mrs. 
 Bundle paused doubtfully, as if she thought there was a 
 good deal in a name. " It's the old-fashioned ones as I like 
 myself. Here's SV Ann, now ; I named her myself Sairey 
 being my mother's name, and my mother's mother's, Ann 
 having been my own " she referred to the fact of her 
 once having a name as something vague that had ended 
 with her youth. " Just plain Sairey, and she's as good a 
 girl as ever was, and I haven't a fault to find against 
 her 
 
 " I'm quite sure of that," interjected Miss Dorothy 
 Ann. 
 
 "Thank you, ma'am. She's goin' away to service is 
 Sairey this coming week a Mrs. Llewellyn's, over at 
 Monkses's Bridge." 
 
 " Llewellyn ! " 1 thought at once, and the recollection of 
 
 E
 
 60 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 the Mephistopheles I had seen at the theatre that uight at 
 once recurred to my mind. 
 
 There was a scir-r-r of wheels, and little Pure-in- Heart 
 shot back into the room again on his chair. 
 
 "I hope you'll have a very comfortable place, Sarah," 
 said Miss Dorothy Ann. " It will be strange at the be- 
 ginning, as it's the first time you've been away from 
 home, but you'll soon get over that." 
 
 Sarah said, " Yes, ma'am," and little Pure-in- Heart, who 
 seemed to have changed his mood, chimed in with, " And 
 don't you forget to send me all the stamps you get, mind." 
 
 " I won't forget, Pure-in-Heart. I'll send you every one 
 I get every one," said Sarah. 
 
 " Honour bright, mind," said Pure-in-Heart, holding up 
 his finger. 
 
 " Yes, on a bright," said Sarah, thinking she had the 
 mystical formula all right. 
 
 "You've got something in your hand, child. What is 
 it ? " broke in Mrs. Bundle. 
 
 " It's it's only something for Miss Gower, if she'll have 
 it," said the little fellow, blushing a rosy red and steering 
 his chair round beside mine. " It's a real genuine ostrich 
 feather that came all the way from Africa, and is worth 
 ever so much. It's no good to me, Miss Gower, being a 
 boy, and if you'd like it 
 
 I knew it would please him, and I said I should like it 
 of all things. 
 
 "And you'll wear it?" he said, peering up at me, and 
 drawing the feather slowly between his fingers. 
 
 "You shall put it in yourself, Pure-in-Heart," I said, 
 getting my hat, "and I'll wear it just to remember 
 you by." 
 
 Pure-in-Heart's face was radiant as I put my hat in his 
 hands ; and he looked it over and flourished the feather 
 about it with an air that would have done credit to a 
 milliner, as he hesitated where to put the ornament to best 
 advantage.
 
 MATTHEW UEDMAYXE. 01 
 
 " I think it would show best there," he said, sticking it 
 in at the side with a look of mature criticism, holding the 
 hat at arm's length, and turning his head from side to side 
 to observe the effect. 
 
 " Quite right," said Miss Winterson. " You've made 
 an excellent choice, Pure-in-Heart. We'll make a milliner 
 of you." 
 
 " Now, let me see how it looks when you put it on," he 
 said, and I put the hat on and walked across the room, 
 Pure-in-Heart watching with his head still held critically 
 on one side. 
 
 " Splendid," he exclaimed, delightedly, clapping his hands, 
 while his pinched little face took quite a new expression in 
 his enjoyment, and turning to his sister, he said 
 
 " You'll know Miss Gower anywhere now, won't you, 
 Sarah ; you could tell her ever so far off, couldn't 
 you ] " 
 
 " Yes," said Sarah, looking at the feather with an 
 expression that had a dash of good-natured envy in it, as we 
 made preparations to set off homewards. " I shall always 
 think of Miss Gower when 1 see the feather." 
 
 I can't help thinking what a strange, lovable little fellow 
 he is, and of the odd idea he consoles himself with in his 
 helplessness that his innocent fad of collecting stamps may 
 some day be of use. My woman's vanity suggests if he 
 had said the feather, now, for that does improve the hat 
 wonderfully, and I shall always wear it in memory of him. 
 There is a flavour of kisniet, too, in his idea of Providence 
 concealing a purpose behind everything we do. 1 wonder 
 if it's true. If it is, what possible purpose could be hidden 
 behind the commonplace experiences I have just recorded, 
 for instance ? 
 
 As I lift my eyes from my writing and look through 
 the window everything has changed. A storm is threat- 
 ening. The trees are being tossed in tho first breath of 
 the blast. There is a dark foreboding of what is coming in
 
 62 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 the atmosphere as if the powers of the air were drawing 
 a deep breath before they clash and grapple in careering 
 chariots of storm-cloud, the blinding sabre-flash of lightning, 
 and the burst and rattle of thunder. The distant waves 
 have a hoarser roar as they break in angry discoloured 
 masses on the beach. Black banks of cloud hang threaten- 
 ingly over them. And fluttering up above the horizon 
 like the wing of a bird, a chance streak of sunlight falling 
 for a moment in a white gleam over it, I can see the sail of 
 a yacht. The brass-edged clouds on the horizon glow dully 
 like the mouth of a furnace, and presently, from their 
 midst, the first keen streak of lightning writhes out. The 
 thunder bursts forth with a deafening bellow, and roars 
 and echoes among the cloud caverns and hollows overhead ; 
 and as if the spell were broken, the rain rushes down and 
 fills up all the space between earth and heaven with a 
 furious swirl of gray vapour. 
 
 The atmosphere clears again somewhat, and I look out 
 with a painful interest to the spot where the yacht was 
 when the storm burst upon it. She is past the island in 
 the bay now, and pretty close in shore, and rises and falls 
 on the brown breaking water ; the tall masts sway about 
 in what seems to me a dangerously unsteady way ; the 
 sails are now bellying out in the breeze, now taken aback 
 and fluttering against the mast. Suddenly part of the 
 canvas is drawn in, and part comes down with a run, and 
 the vessel rides steadily at anchor under bare poles. Now 
 though rather indistinctly, for the rain is coining on 
 again in a heavy, monotonous downpour I can see a boat 
 put out from the yacht and make for the shore. Now it is 
 hidden from sight again. The gray rain-mist closes in 
 steadily, steadily, and blots out everything the yacht, the 
 sea, the sky, the scenery everything is swallowed up and 
 lost in thick wrappings of gray vapour. 
 
 ****** 
 
 There is a bustling and confusion and a running to and 
 fro in the passages below, and an opening and shutting of
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 63 
 
 doors. Somebody has arrived. I wonder can it be any 
 one from the yacht 1 I feel the most 
 
 VIII. 
 
 APRIL 4, 1885. I was called away yesterday by Miss 
 Dorothy Ann before I could finish the entry in my diary, 
 and on descending to the lower regions I found her talking 
 in the drawing-room with a tall, dark, weather-beaten 
 young man, who had made his appearance at the house as 
 suddenly as if he had been dropped from the clouds. There 
 was something unmistakably suggestive of the sea about 
 him. I had noticed a long, clinging overcoat hanging in 
 the passage as I came down. It was dripping with wet, 
 and gave off a powerful odour of salt water ; and I at once 
 jumped to the conclusion that the young gentleman had 
 come ashore from the yacht, and that it must have been 
 his arrival that had caused all the bustle in the house. 
 
 Miss Dorothy Ann, who makes it a point to treat me in 
 all matters as an equal, introduced me to him, and hoped 
 we should be good friends which I am sure we shall. I 
 have always had a strong partiality for those who go down 
 to the sea in ships ; and the chief charm in the personality 
 of Mr. Matthew Kedmayne to me at any rate is a 
 certain breezy, sailor-like unconveutionality he has with 
 him. He is not a handsome man. Long exposure to wind 
 and sea has given him a complexion bordering on copper 
 colour, and there is not an inch in his six feet of stature 
 that owes its attractiveness to cosmetic or tailor. He was 
 dressed to-day in a baggy suit of blue serge, which, I 
 suppose, it is only in the fitness of things that a sailor 
 should wear. He has a square, rugged, masculine breadth 
 of forehead, which has a habit of wrinkling when the brain 
 behind it begins to think ; the whole face, indeed, is a 
 good, manly, confidence-inspiring one, and yes, and one
 
 64 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 I felt an instant liking for. There is an atmosphere of 
 security and protection about him, which will be a glorious 
 inheritance some day for the fortunate woman he selects 
 for his wife. And yet, at the same time, I am sure there 
 would be a trace of another feeling too a spice of fear of 
 at any time bringing down his displeasure upon herself. At 
 least, that is how I should feel, I know. (It's my own 
 diary, why shouldn't I say it ?) 
 
 I may as well put down all I know about him at once, 
 for I suppose it is the first and last time his name will 
 appear in my diary. He comes of a family whose fortunes 
 were broken at Home, and who have more than retrieved 
 them in the colonies. They are the proprietors of large 
 plantations in Fiji, and have a number of vessels constantly 
 engaged in going and coming between here and there, the 
 trade being done mostly in sandal-wood, and cocoa-nuts, or 
 copra, or vegetable oil, or something of that kind. At any 
 rate, it has enabled them to make an immense amount of 
 money ; and they have the reputation of possessing a 
 marked capacity for keeping it when made . . . Though 
 I have nothing definite to go upon, I have a shrewd idea 
 that Mr. Redmayne and his people do not get on very well 
 together. He has travelled a good deal, and mostly in com- 
 pany with a certain Dick Drugget, whose name, together 
 with that of the Meg Merrilies, his yacht, is constantly 
 cropping up in his conversation. . . . The said Dick 
 Drugget came up to the house yesterday with Redmayne, 
 but forcibly made his exit when he heard that there was 
 not only a young woman in the house, but that she would 
 presently be invited down to meet him. The thought of 
 the encounter filled him with alarm, and he made off to 
 the yacht, where he has remained in seclusion ever since. 
 The one desire of my life now, woman-like, is to make the 
 acquaintance of this Dick Drugget. 
 
 Redmayne had just returned from the front door, whence 
 ho had been throwing fruitless requests to come back, after 
 the retreating figure of the shy Drugget, and was still in a
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 65 
 
 simmer of laughter at his friend's behaviour when I went 
 into the room. 
 
 I had not closed the door on entering, and a partially- 
 suppressed cough told me that some one was concealed be- 
 hind it. Miss Dorothy Ann laughed, and the familiar 
 figure of Dr. Carmichael came forth from his temporary 
 eclipse. 
 
 " I've just come along with Redmayne, Miss Gower, 
 to give you a look up before leaving. I'm going Home 
 to-day." 
 
 " I am very sorry," I said. " Must you go ] " 
 
 " I must indeed, or I shouldn't be here. I have been 
 left a pot of money by a certain old relative of mine, who 
 had made his nest so high up among the branches of the 
 family tree that I was not even aware of his existence ; 
 and if it had not been for his lawyers publishing an ' if- 
 this-should-meet-the-eye ' advertisement I might never have 
 heard of my good luck." 
 
 " But you will come back again," said Miss Dorothy 
 Ann, with the true spirit of a colonist. " You'll never 
 be able to stay away from the colonies after all these 
 years." 
 
 " Say rather from old friends, Miss Winterson," replied 
 the doctor, with the same air as I am sure Dr. Johnson 
 must have used towards Mrs. Thrale. "That's just what 
 they said when I came out here in the first place Lord, 
 Lord, how many years ago was it 1 ? No, I don't think 
 I shall, but I shall be away for three or four years 
 anyway." 
 
 " And then ? " I said. 
 
 " And then I shall be back among you again. 1 wonder 
 how I shall find you all 1 wonder what changes will have 
 taken place." 
 
 "None I hope, unless for the better," said Miss Dorothy 
 Ann. " To what good fortune do we owe you and Matthew 
 coming together ? " 
 
 " Well, I intended paying you this visit and intercepting
 
 66 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 the coach here as well, and as Mat was bound hitherward 
 as well we came together. We've cut it rather fine, too, 
 what with backing, and filling, and reefing, and tacking, 
 and one thing and another ; and thanks to Redmayne, I 
 run a very fair chance of missing my boat." 
 
 " Redmayne is not responsible for the ten thousand 
 changes in sea and air and heaven," said Mr. Redmayne, 
 laughing. "All things considered, the Meg made a splendid 
 run." 
 
 " I watched you beating up, from my window," I said, 
 " until the storm came on and hid you." 
 
 "Did you?" exclaimed Mr. Redmayne, with gratified 
 pride. "Didn't she behave beautifully?" 
 
 " I don't suppose my opinion on the point is worth 
 much " (" Quite so," put in the doctor, parenthetically) 
 " but I certainly think she did. It must be delightful to 
 be the owner of a yacht." 
 
 " It is, I assure you " began Mr. Redmayne, enthu- 
 siastically. 
 
 " It's almost as good to be the next best thing," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 " And that is ? " queried Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 " That's a conundrum," answered the doctor, with a 
 look of unfathomable slyness at Mr. Redmayne, who 
 laughed self-consciously, as if what the doctor had said 
 derived its point from something that had previously passed 
 between them. 
 
 " Pray consider the Meg Merrilies as your own property 
 whenever she is in the harbour," he said, looking from 
 me to Miss Dorothy Ann, " with my services into the 
 bargain." 
 
 " Not old enough to be trusted, Mat," said the doctor ; 
 " besides the bad effect of sea air at this time of the 
 year." 
 
 " Why, Dr. Carmichael," exclaimed Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 laughing, " where's your consistency ? It was yourself told 
 me that the one thing I wanted was a breath of sea air."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 67 
 
 " Then why not take that breath on the decks of the 
 Meg ? " asked Redmayne, eagerly. 
 
 " / advise you to take sea air," said the doctor, inter- 
 rupting his friend again without the least compunction. 
 " Take a camp-stool and sit on the beach an hour before 
 breakfast, and you'll get all the sea air you need, I warrant." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Mr. Redniayue. " There's nothing 
 like a genuine sea breeze for health, Miss Winterson, and 
 that breeze can only be properly got on shipboard. Look 
 at me for instance." 
 
 " Look at him, indeed," said the doctor, who seemed to 
 take a malicious pleasure in opposing his friend's proposal, 
 " a living testimony to what the sea can do towaa'ds turn- 
 ing man into mummy. A complexion between a brick and 
 a Red Indian, and a hand like a nutmeg-grater from haul- 
 ing tarry ropes. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Miss Gower would enjoy it, too," went on Redmayne, 
 ignoring the doctor, who really was very irritating. 
 
 "Miss Gower would do nothing of the kind she'd be 
 sea-sick." 
 
 " No, I'm svire I shouldn't," I said. " I was never sea- 
 sick in my life." 
 
 "For the best of reasons you've never been to sea." 
 
 "Oh, but I have; I've made the voyage from Australia, 
 besides having been over the Straits two or three times." 
 
 " Miss Winterson, you must settle the question. Say 
 you'll go. The doctor only opposes for the sake of oppos- 
 ing," and the yachtsman appealed to Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 " If it rests with me, I don't know what to say," said 
 Miss Winterson, doubtfully. " I never feel safe in these 
 bits of boats not meaning your yacht, Matthew, of course." 
 
 The doctor looked into my face with the most irritating 
 enjoyment of my disappointment for I really was disap- 
 pointed : a trip on a yacht at this time of the year is so 
 enjoyable. 
 
 " Quite right, Miss Winterson. The idea of two ladies 
 trusting themselves, with only a flimsy plank or two
 
 68 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 between them and the deep blue sea, to the mercy of a 
 slip of a yachtsman not more than by the way, how old 
 are you, Redmayne 1 " said the doctor, with unblushing 
 impudence. 
 
 " That's certainly not a fair question," said Miss Dorothy 
 Ann. " Don't answer him, Matthew." 
 
 Mr. Redmayne has an excellent temper. 
 
 " I don't intend to," he said. " If he doesn't know, no 
 one should, for our acquaintance was of the earliest, I 
 believe. But about this trip 
 
 " God bless my soul, how many ' Noes ' does the boy 
 think go to a refusal ? Miss Winterson has said ' No ' 
 once be content with that." 
 
 " Take no notice of him, Matthew. I have every con- 
 fidence in you. I'll leave it to Esther what do you say, 
 my dear ? " 
 
 Miss Dorothy Ann looked at me, Mr. Redmayne looked 
 at me (a little anxiously, I thought), the doctor looked at 
 me, his head on one side, and with an unspeakably knowing 
 look on his face, as if he knew what the answer would be 
 before it came. 
 
 " I should that is, I think the sea air would really do 
 you good, Miss Winterson, and I think I should be in 
 favour of going," I said, demurely. 
 
 The doctor, who seemed to have a faculty for making 
 himself disagreeable, said " Hem ! " passed his handkerchief 
 over his lips, and looked up at the ceiling ; and then, with- 
 out moving his head, let his eyes travel from Mr. Redmayne 
 over to me and back again, and then said " Hem ! " again. 
 I am quite sure the reason I gave was the only one in 
 my mind, and yet I never felt so thoroughly hypocritical in 
 my life as when, the doctor said " Hem ! " in that uncom- 
 fortably pointed way. 
 
 " That's settled then," said Miss Dorothy Ann, somewhat 
 doubtfully. " You have Miss Gower to thank, if you think 
 there's much to be thankful for in cumbering your boat 
 with two useless women, Matthew."
 
 MATTHEW TIEDMAYNE. 6!) 
 
 I suppose Mr. Redmayno is not good at making con- 
 ventional speeches, for he seemed unaccountably confused 
 as he said 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, Miss Gower. It it 
 will do Miss Winterson a great deal of good, I'm sure." 
 And as he looked at me I noticed for the first time what a 
 deep hazel his eyes were. 
 
 " Disinterested young people ! Of course it will eh, 
 Miss Winterson?" said the doctor. 
 
 " I hope so, I'm sure. It's very good of Matthew to 
 make the offer." 
 
 " Yes, indeed. You are overflowing with goodness 
 to-night, Redmayne," the doctor began, ironically. 
 
 " Listen, doctor," said Miss Dorothy Ann, suddenly, 
 holding up -her hand, and we heard the rattle of coach 
 wheels in the distance. " That is your coach coming at 
 last." 
 
 The doctor took his farewell of us with a studious avoid- 
 ance of anything approaching sentiment, which was quite 
 in keeping with his character, and then, as we all stood at 
 the door, he paused with his overcoat thrown over his arm 
 and his portmanteau grasped in his hand, and looked at me. 
 
 " Well," ho said, " the next best thing to being the 
 owner of a yacht 1 Have you solved it 1 " 
 
 " I am not good at that kind of thing, doctor ; I am 
 afraid I must give it up." 
 
 The driver of the coach drew up his team with a flourish 
 opposite the gate. The doctor took a step in that direction, 
 paused, and then said, " Ask Kedrnayne ; he knows," and 
 with a last round of handshaking was off. At the 
 furthest turning, a hat presumably the doctor's, and 
 apparently elevated on the end of a stick was flourished 
 for a moment above the hedge that hid both the coach and 
 the owner of the hat from view, and the volatile doctor was 
 gone.
 
 70 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 APRIL 8, 1885. I had really formed a strong liking 
 for Dr. Carmichael all the stronger, I think, because of 
 certain harmless oddities he had, and which were only skin 
 deep. Yet, to be honest with myself, I cannot say I feel 
 that sense of loss which should follow the departure of a 
 friend. A month or so ago I should, I am sure and why 
 not now ? It is strange, for I have always had the reputa- 
 tion of forming strong attachments for the few friends I 
 have been lucky enough to gain. Change of scene, I 
 suppose. 
 
 Mr. Redmayne is still at Island Bay, passing his nights 
 on the yacht, and the greater part of every day here, the 
 yacht meanwhile floating in the Bay, as idle as a painted 
 ship upon a pointed ocean. He says she is undergoing 
 some kind of repairs, which Dick Drugget is attending to. 
 But I don't believe it. For Miss Dorothy Ann and I have 
 paid several visits to the boat, and beyond the repainting 
 of the name there is not a sign of anything having been 
 done to her. I should be pleased if it were only an excuse 
 and I believe it is ! It is strange that he should select 
 such a dead-and-alive place as Island Bay to make a long 
 stay in. I should have thought it the very last place to 
 furnish any attraction for a young man who has travelled 
 so widely and seen so much of the world as he has. 
 
 He has announced his intention of remaining until we 
 are ready to make our promised trip, which is being put off 
 day after day by Miss Dorothy Ann, till I am afraid the 
 winter weather will set in and prevent it altogether. 
 Which will be simply maddening. 
 
 April 9. I have lately made several visits to the 
 Bundles' on Miss Dorothy Ann's behalf. The road is a 
 long and lonely one, and I have been each time under the 
 escort of Mr. Hedmayne. He is an old friend of the family, 
 and very popular at the cottage, little Pure-in-Heart hail-
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 71 
 
 ing him in what was for him quite a boisterous fashion, 
 and demanding stamps. The little fellow was pleased 
 beyond expression to see the feather he had given me still 
 in my hat, and regaled Mr. Kedmayne with a full and 
 particular account of how it had come into my possession, 
 and the conditions under which I had bound myself to wear 
 it ... Sarah I did not see. She left home to go to her 
 situation yesterday. 
 
 It began to rain soon after we left the cottage to-day. 
 We plodded along in silence for a time, holding ourselves 
 all aslant to avoid the full rush of the shower, and then Mr. 
 Kedmayne said 
 
 " Will you not take my arm, Miss Gower 1 We should 
 get along much better." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever offered the friendly 
 conventionality, and he did it in a very hesitating .and 
 embarrassed manner. I thanked him, and accepted the 
 offer, just as absurdly embarrassed on my part. Then we 
 plodded on again, but we certainly did not get along any 
 faster. Mr. Redmayne grew stoically indifferent to the 
 rain seemed rather to enjoy it, in fact and in spite of 
 what he had said a moment before, was very careful to 
 walk slowly, so as not to hurry me. I am under the 
 impression we must have walked very slowly, and tired as I 
 was, wet as I was, uncomfortable as I was, I was sorry 
 actually sorry when Fernridge came in sight. I have 
 always flattered myself on the possession of a certain 
 amount of common sense, yet I found myself childishly 
 wishing we had only just set out and had all the walk 
 before us again . . . When we were about five minutes' 
 walk from home, Mr. Redmayno woke up from a long 
 silence, and with a sudden attempt at conversation asked 
 
 " Do you enjoy life here, Miss Gower?" 
 
 " Yes, very much indeed/' I said, and added (with malice 
 aforethought), " but I wonder that you, who have passed so 
 much time in travelling and have seen so many places, and 
 must be so fond of change, are not tired of such a dull place."
 
 72 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 He is not good at paying compliments, and the one he 
 now paid or rather perpetrated came with sledge-hammer 
 force, and laboured under the additional disadvantage of 
 being uttered in a rainstorm. 
 
 " It it all depends on the company one falls into, you 
 know," he said, " and in that respect I have never found 
 any place so much to my liking as this one." 
 
 Before I could collect myself sufficiently to answer he 
 added "Are you good at guessing, Miss Gower ?" 
 
 I said naively that that all depended on what it was I 
 had to guess about. 
 
 " Oh, it is a very simple thing. It is whether you 
 cannot guess why I should have stayed here so long 
 though it has seemed anything but long to me 1 " 
 
 It was naturally difficult to tell for certain in the rain, 
 but I thought he sighed as he spoke. 
 
 "Why," I answered, with the artless surprise we 
 feminine hypocrites always assume in such circumstances, 
 "you have already said it was because you liked the 
 company you had fallen into." 
 
 He is as bad at the exchange of anything in the form of 
 badinage as he is in other small graces, and he replied 
 disconcertedly, but with an earnestness that was almost 
 ludicrous 
 
 "There there is something beyond that, Miss Gower." 
 
 " Then I can only suppose it is because you are good 
 enough to wait till Miss Winterson can avail herself of 
 your kindness in placing your yacht at her disposal." 
 
 I think he gave it up then as hopeless. Ah ! if he had 
 only known how difficult it was to keep up appearances ! 
 
 " Is that the only reason you can think of, Es Miss 
 Gower 1" 
 
 " That is the only reason I can think of, Mr. lledmayne," 
 I said, all in a flutter at his merely pronouncing the first 
 syllable of my name. 
 
 We had arrived at Fernridge by now, and he opened the 
 gate with a ridiculously depressed air.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 73 
 
 "I hope the wetting will not injure you, Miss Gower," 
 hi said, standing aside as if he had no intention of entering. 
 
 " Thank you, I do not think there is any fear ; but are 
 you not coming in ? " 
 
 " No," he said, with the spirit of depression still heavy 
 upon him ; " I will go on board the boat at once and 
 change my things. Good-bye." 
 
 I am not usually of a malicious disposition, and yet I 
 certainly did derive a positive feeling of pleasure from the 
 knowledge that I had made him miserable. 
 
 April 16, 1885. The auspicious season upon which Miss 
 Dorothy Ann has set her heart will not dawn for a day or 
 two yet, and the yacht still undergoing the same vague 
 process of repair has been lying in the bay all the time. 
 Redrnayne has been as constant in his visits to the house 
 as if it were a shrine, and ho were a pilgrim. He seems 
 to realize that what he was about to say during that walk 
 in the rain a week ago was premature (Answer, my 
 heart ! Was it?) and he evidently has formed a pretty 
 correct idea of the state of mind I am in on the subject, 
 and carefully refrains from saying or doing anything likely 
 to embarrass me. He has, in fact, acted just as he should 
 act. But at the same time he makes the most eager 
 endeavours to take the fullest advantage of anything I say 
 or do that has the least appearance of an inclination to 
 break through the barrier of reserve I have set up ; and I 
 have a humiliating suspicion that in spite of all my wise 
 and maidenly resolves, that inclination does make itself 
 evident occasionally. 
 
 I am afraid that of late I have allowed my attention to 
 be so much taken up with other things that I have been 
 growing forgetful of old friends. Poor little Pure-in-Heart, 
 whose health is causing his mother a good deal of anxiety, 
 has been worse than usual for the last day or two. I saw 
 him to-day for the first time since I hoard of his illness, 
 and short as the time has been, he is much changed. He
 
 74 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 is, nevertheless, just as interested as ever in collecting 
 stamps, and gleefully showed me a fresh batch he had 
 received from his sister. 
 
 " Good-bye, Miss Gower," he said to-day as I was leaving 
 the cottage. " It don't look like as if what I'm doing is 
 going to be of very much use in the world now, does it 1 " 
 
 " Never mind, Pure-in-Heart," I said, with vague en- 
 couragement, " we none of us know what our actions may 
 lead to ; and even if it does nothing else, your collection has 
 interested you and given you something to occupy your mind." 
 
 " And then there's the feather, isn't there ? " he said. 
 " That's ornament if it isn't use." 
 
 "To be sure," I said, "there's the feather, and that's 
 both ornament and use too. It's made a shabby hat as 
 good as ever it was." 
 
 "Ah, it isn't the hat that people like about you, Miss 
 Gower; it's what's under it." 
 
 Mr. Redmayne was there. I did not think he had 
 noticed the very obvious flattery, but on the way home he 
 took occasion to remark what a shrewd little fellow Pure- 
 in-Heart was, and that there was more truth in what he 
 said at times than one might suppose. 
 
 There was a volume of meaning in his words as he spoke, 
 but much more in the look that accompanied them. I 
 promptly assumed the mask of simplicity and innocence 
 which is the refuge of my sex, and said I thought so too. 
 
 I wonder how many times I have read Kate's letter 
 lately. It seems to read very differently to me now from 
 what it did at first. Foolish Kate ! I should like to hear 
 from her, and yet, since that last letter, never a word. Or 
 perhaps she has addressed her letters to The Peak, and 
 they have been detained there. I have not thought of 
 that before. It is possible. But then she was always the 
 most inconstant of correspondents ; I don't suppose she 
 has ever written a line.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 75 
 
 April 19. If there were a feminine form of "Hurrah," 
 I would use it now ! At last Miss Dorothy Ann lias made 
 up her mind ! She will embark upon the long-talked-of 
 trip to-morrow ! True, it is only for two days, but that is 
 better than nothing. The momentous decision was given 
 in my presence a few minutes ago, just as the little French 
 clock on the mantlepiece indicated twenty-five minutes 
 past three. She had been consulting a certain infallible 
 almanac which is sent to her every year, as she has done 
 regularly for the last week or so, when she took off her 
 spectacles and folded them up with the deliberation of one 
 who had formed a great resolve, and said in a steady, 
 collected tone of voice 
 
 " Esther, my dear, if it is not too sudden for you, I 
 think we may say we will go to-morrow. I shall tell Mr. 
 Redmayne when I see him this evening." 
 
 And now it is a case of " hurre, hurre, hop, hop, hop," 
 to get ready, though for my own part it has been hanging 
 over my head so long that I have very few preparations to 
 make. 
 
 ****** 
 
 April 20. I don't think I have ever passed a more en- 
 joyable day than I have to-day. Mr. Re Imayne and Dick 
 Drugget had made arrangements and seen to the stowing of 
 most of our things over-night, so that this morning there 
 was little else to do but make ourselves comfortable on 
 board till the time of sailing. Beyond remarking as to the 
 comfort of what " Mr. Gilbert " said in the storm about 
 being as near Heaven on the sea as on the land, Miss 
 Dorothy Ann showed no sign of disquietude after arriving 
 on the yacht. She says she has every confidence in 
 Matthew and the almanac, which she ranks only second 
 to the Prophets in point of reliability, and which is quite 
 positive in its assurance of a week's fine weather. 
 
 Ever since his behaviour the first time he came to the 
 house I had intended to make friends with Dick Drugget ; 
 but, though he doesn't seem to mind Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 
 F
 
 76 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 he withdraws himself into an impenetrable shell if I happen 
 to so much as address a word to him. Yet one cannot help 
 being pleased at a certain quiet way he has of trying to 
 make things as agreeable as possible for those about him ; 
 which I have noticed he sometimes accomplishes only at 
 considerable inconvenience to himself. 
 
 It is delightful to sit up there on the deck, with the 
 sunlight spangling the water around one and the fresh 
 sea-breeze blowing over one, and watch the great hills go 
 floating by. As I have said already, it must be one of the 
 greatest pleasures in life to be the owner of a yacht which 
 reminds me of what the doctor said about the " next best 
 thing." I wonder what he could mean, or if he meant any- 
 thing at all, and why should I have to go to Redmayne for 
 the answer? And that again reminds me that the latter 
 did not give us a great deal of his company to-day, sinking 
 the host in the sailor, and leaving us to read or talk, or do 
 pretty much what we liked, while he attended to the navi- 
 gation of the vessel. I was greatly disappointed in him, 
 for the weather has been so calm that neither Miss Dorothy 
 Ann nor I have experienced the least inconvenience in 
 remaining on deck, so that there could have been no 
 necessity for such a careful display of seamanship. I have, 
 of course, endeavoured all day to keep up an air of enjoy- 
 ing the partial neglect rather than otherwise. Two or 
 three times he came towards me as if intending to say 
 something, and then turned away again without speaking. 
 If he only knew how irritating that is, he wouldn't do it. 
 On the few occasions when he did enter into conversation 
 he seemed oddly preoccupied and absent in his manner. 
 In fact, all his abilities to entertain and amuse seem to 
 have been left on shore. Strange very. I wonder why ? 
 He is generally anything but dull company. I hope there 
 will be a change to-morrow.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 77 
 
 X. 
 
 APRIL 21, 1885. There /tas been a change ! I can 
 hardly write the words, my hand trembles so. He has 
 declared that he loves me, and has loved me from the first 
 day he saw me ! 
 
 I had made up a prudent little bundle of maxims of my 
 own, as to what it would be " proper " to do and say ; and 
 was quite clear that the difference in position between a 
 mere governess and a wealthy merchant's son was so great 
 that any attachment between us could have no other than 
 an unhappy ending for me at least. And I have acted 
 as any other woman, placed as I was, would have acted 
 that precise little code of mine has been as completely 
 blown to the winds as if it had never existed and that at 
 the first word he uttered. 
 
 The day passed much the same as yesterday, Matthew 
 he is my Matthew now ! behaving in much the same un- 
 satisfactory way as before. A brisk little breeze sprang 
 up and sent us gaily over the water ; but towards evening 
 it died away, the sails hung loosely from the yard-arms, 
 and we came to a dead standstill if that is the right word. 
 The sun had become entangled among the gilded masses of 
 cloud that hung about the horizon, and his beams pierced 
 through the gaps in their golden lining in long fan-shaped 
 rays, passed over our heads, and fell afar off upon the green 
 breasts of the hills beyond us. It was lovely lovely as 
 Eden, but like Eve in Eden I was discontented all through 
 Matthew, I suppose. 
 
 " It is a beautiful evening, is it not, Miss C4ower ? " broke 
 in upon me so suddenly that I started in surprise. I looked 
 around, and saw Matthew standing beside me. Miss 
 Dorothy Ann, who had been on deck a little while before, 
 had gone below. 
 
 "It is," I said. "If I could only paint, and could put 
 that blazing yellow mass of cloud on canvas ! " 
 
 "What would you call it if you did?" he asked, biting
 
 78 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 nervously at his moustache, his eyes fixed on the changing 
 tints of the sunset, and his thoughts fixed, I was sure, on 
 something much nearer home. 
 
 "The Gates of Heaven," I said. "I don't think even 
 they could be more beautiful than that.'' 
 
 " I am glad you have found something to enjoy, Miss 
 Gower, for I have an. uncomfortable idea that, not to put 
 too fine a point upon it, I have proved a failure as an 
 entertainer." 
 
 In my own mind I quite agreed with him, and therefore, 
 answered 
 
 "Not at all, Mr. Redmayne ; for my part, I've enjoyed 
 myself beyond anything I expected. Besides, you have the 
 ship to attend to," I added rather inconsequently. 
 
 " Yes," he said, nervously ; and then, " Do you remember 
 that time we walked home from the Bundles' in the rain, 
 Miss Gower?" 
 
 " From Bundles' in the rain 1 " I repeated, with a weak, 
 hypocritical attempt at having almost forgotten it. " Oh, 
 yes. It was very wet that day, wasn't it 1 " I said, sweetly. 
 
 He did not answer, and the inevitable awkward pause 
 followed. I had what is called an intuition that something 
 momentous was threatening, and in a headlong attempt to 
 defer that momentous something I broke in upon the 
 silence with the first words that came to mind. They were 
 what the doctor had said to me when leaving for Home, 
 and I began at once 
 
 " I have a question to ask you, Mr. Kedmayne." 
 
 " Indeed. What is it 1 I shall be happy to answer if I 
 am able." 
 
 " It's Doctor Carmichael's conundrum : ' "What's the next 
 best thing to being the owner of a yacht ] ' He referred 
 me to you for an answer." 
 
 " The answer," he said, dropping his unnatural air of 
 seriousness and his eyes dancing with laughter as they met 
 mine " is, that the next best thing to being the owner of 
 a yacht is to be "-(a pause) "his wife ! "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 79 
 
 Instead of deferring that momentous something I had 
 brought it measurably nearer ! Awkward does not describe 
 what I felt, and I took refuge in the most imbecile reply 
 that ever occurred to mortal mind even when that mind 
 is a woman's. I said " Oh," and waited, mute and help- 
 less, for what would happen next. It was not long in 
 coming. 
 
 " Miss Gower," he said, earnestly, " if I have seemed 
 absent-minded and neglectful of you and Miss Winterson, 
 there is no one who should know the reason better than you." 
 
 " Better than I ! " hypocritical (i. e. feminine) to the 
 last. 
 
 " We did not understand one another on the occasion I 
 spoke of just now. I am afraid it was ill-timed on my 
 part. I should not have spoken so soon. But I wish to 
 say now what I tried to say then. And that is you 
 cannot misunderstand me, Miss Gower. Believe me, my 
 heart is in this. I have been afraid to speak ; but but 
 but I must, Miss Gower " and he took both my hands in 
 his, and his eyes met mine entreatingly " you must have 
 seen, you must know that I love you. Say you love me a 
 little in return." 
 
 I did not answer 1 could not. 
 
 "Esther Esther," ho pleaded. "Answer inc. You - 
 you are not offended 1 .Say at least that you are not 
 indifferent to me." 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 No. I cannot write it even hero. lias any one ever 
 loved and been loved before, and had that love declared to 
 them, and felt as I feel now ? I can hardly believe it. It 
 seems as if the delicious experience were mine, and began 
 and ended with me. 
 
 Our voyage is at an end to-day. Those arc the lights of 
 Island Bay. Only two days since I saw them, but tin- 
 world has turned round twice between then and now. 
 Then I was a girl ; now I feel that I am a woman, and 
 have entered upon a woman's inheritance.
 
 80 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 April 22. I should be happy. And yet always an 
 "if" or a "but" or a "yet" while I am every way 
 justified in believing my happiness founded upon a solid 
 Reality, I allow myself to be tormented by nothing more 
 than a Dream. It was about Catherine. There are 
 dreams and dreams. This is the evening of the nineteenth 
 century, and nobody confesses to thinking there's anything 
 in dreams, and I don't myself of course. But at the 
 same time there are dreams that will not down at the first 
 smug shibboleth one brings to bear upon them in the 
 almighty name of latter-day enlightenment ; and this one 
 of mine has a distressing reality about it, and has haunted 
 me persistently all day. I saw a vision of Catherine's 
 head and shoulders nothing more. It appeared at the 
 end of the room and came on towards me came towards me 
 till it was within an inch or two of my face, and I closed 
 my eyes and shrank back from it as I would from the face 
 of a corpse. When I looked again it was once more at 
 the end of the room, and came forward in the same dead, 
 resistless way as soon as my eyes rested on it, till I closed 
 them and shrank away as before. And so on, time after 
 time, till I was quite worn out with the effort and terrified 
 with the thought that soon I should not even have the 
 strength to shrink back or close my eyes, and the horrible 
 thing would touch my face and cling to me. The dead face 
 was white, and the eyes looked out from a cascade of loose 
 black hair that streamed down around it. But what 
 frightened me most was the thought which the vision 
 somehow conveyed to my mind. It did not speak, or move 
 its dead blue lips, but as it came nearer and nearer the 
 thought was repeated and repeated and repeated with 
 inconceivable rapidity, till my brain throbbed again, as 
 though soundless voices were pouring it into my ear in 
 a hideous voluble chorus ; and the thought was" I'm 
 mad I'm mad I'm MAD ! " 
 
 I wish I had not dreamed that dream. I cannot away 
 with it.
 
 PART II. 
 
 A WIFE'S CONFESSION (continued). 
 XI. 
 
 MAY 4, 1886. In this out-of -the- world corner a year soon 
 slips away, and if it were not for the calendar I could 
 scarcely believe that it was more than twelve months since 
 I first arrived here. Twelve months, and not a word nor 
 a line from Catherine all that time. Though it was a year 
 ago the memory of that dream clings to me still, and tills 
 me with a foreboding and distrust of the future. 
 
 Matthew, who has been here and away again several 
 times during the interval, is about to be taken in as junior 
 partner in the firm of Redmayne, Redmayne, and Co., and 
 is in a state of comic horror as he sees the toils of business 
 threatening him more and more closely every day. Yester- 
 day, after a stay in port of barely two hours, he was 
 peremptorily summoned away by a letter from his father, 
 and is now engaged, miles up the roast, at a place with an 
 unpronounceable Maori name, in the carrying out of some 
 commission for the firm a commission, he darkly hinted, 
 foisted upon him simply for the purpose of " trying " him, 
 and seeing what business capacity he has. Whatever it 
 may be, it is likely to delay him for a considerable time. 
 
 I received a letter from him to-day. It is delightful to 
 read, but what am I to say in answer? Ho lias resumed 
 in the most determined way, through the hard, matter-of- 
 fact medium of the post, what he began by word of mouth 
 just before he was called away. 
 
 'Dearest Ettie," says the letter, "now that I am
 
 82 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 becoming mixed up in the infernal (excuse the term : it 
 expresses my meaning exactly) the infernal mechanism 
 of the Firm, I am not sure of my movements for a single 
 day. Even now, you see, my father has employed me on 
 this commission for him, which is likely to keep me 
 employed for days yet worse luck. He and I have not 
 been on the best terms lately, because he objects as a man 
 of business, and as a man of business who wants his son 
 to be a man of business after him, to my free and easy way 
 of roaming about the world. He holds that I must have 
 what he calls a settled purpose in life ; and with the idea 
 of supplying that settled purpose he holds over my head 
 this menace of making me a partner in the firm. Of 
 course he's right in what he says, and Dick Drugget, und 
 the Meg, and all the rest of it must go. But, my darling, 
 there is one thing that must not go. Between now and the 
 time of my entering business life I have strong reasons for 
 wishing that our marriage may take place. I spoke to you 
 about this before I was called away, but perhaps I may 
 be able to think more clearly if I may say so and speak 
 more clearly by letter. Once fairly entangled in the 
 meshes of the firm, and Heaven alone knows what 
 complications may arise. Anyhow, I don't mean to risk 
 it. Do not, my dear Ettie, say that this is too sudden. 
 Where is the use of our putting it off 1 We can never 
 know one another better than wo do now ; and I am sure 
 I can never love you better than I do now. You are your 
 own mistress, and have only your own heart and the 
 happiness of us both to consult. I do not wish to hurry 
 you, my love ; but for the sake of yourself and me, try 
 and come to a decision. " 
 
 And now I am given over to the demon of Irresolution. 
 This is altogether too sudden. I did not expect anything 
 of the kind for ever so long. If he were only here I could 
 show him how unreasonable he is ; but you must hear all a 
 letter has to say. You can't interrupt it or argue with it. 
 What is it best to say, now what is it best to say 1
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 83 
 
 May 7. Another bit from another letter. He is still a 
 prisoner, and cannot get away : " My dear Etty, have you 
 quite used up your little bundle of arguments 1 There are 
 three blisters on the letter. You cried when you wrote 
 it" (which I did). " I have kissed them three times three 
 each. All you have said, my darling, would be true 
 enough if the circumstances were different, and if it were 
 a different man from myself and a different dear little 
 woman from yourseW. Are we to begin to doubt one 
 another already f You surely do not distrust my love for 
 you. Esther, dear Esther, I stake all my happiness, my 
 prospects, my future everything, on your love. I am not 
 speaking without a reason for it. Believe me, it is not 
 mere caprice. I can more than guess what course events 
 will take when once I become mixed up in business affairs ; 
 and before that time comes, and while I am my own master, 
 I must make sure of my happiness by making sure of You. 
 Dear Esther, can you not will you not trust me ? Why 
 should there be delay ? Are you not, my dearest, mistress 
 of your own actions (for the jrresent, that z'a 1 ), and am not 
 I my own master 1 " 
 
 What can I say in answer to such a letter ? Of course 1 
 trust him. What he says is all very well from his stand- 
 point ; but then he is a man, and looks at it from a man's 
 point of view. I look at it from a woman's point of view, 
 which is a very different thing. There is a suspicion of 
 mystery and secrecy about it, and mystery and secrecy I 
 detest. Besides, I do not wish to begin my married life 
 under such compromising circumstances. " Am J not my 
 own mistress 1 " Yes, I am, indeed too much my own 
 mistress. I wonder, does his reference to the consequences 
 of his becoming a member of his father's firm mean that 
 his people have other plans for him plans which would be 
 destroyed by his marrying one who is only a governess ] If 
 
 I thought that Well, if I thought that, 1 .should love 
 
 him still love him well enough and weakly enough to let 
 1 Tin- very idea! Fur the ^resent, inikrd ! E.G.
 
 84 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 him spoil his prospects by marrying me. Humiliating to 
 own it, even to myself, in my own diary, but still the truth. 
 And now for the answer. 
 
 May 24. Extract number three. He gets more and more 
 positive each time ! " My dearest Etty, I am not going to 
 budge one hair's-breadth. When I see you next in a day, 
 or two days, at farthest I shall come with the License 
 in my pocket. I have said it. So now, my darling, let us 
 have no more doubts, no more hesitatings ; but be a good 
 girl and surrender the point, and you shall have all your 
 own way afterwards (perhaps). Do not, my love, disturb 
 yourself trying to solve the large problem cf secret mar- 
 riages. I admit everything you say on the matter, and 
 think all the better of you for it for it could only come 
 from a good and pure mind. I would not be so unreasonable 
 as to ask you to do anything to which you were conscien- 
 tiously opposed. But I do not wish our marriage to have, 
 nor will it have, any secrecy whatever about it. Miss 
 Winterson shall be admitted fully and freely into our 
 confidence, since you wish it but on the morning of the 
 day only." 
 
 What a headstrong, resolute, self-willed man it is ! What 
 can I do ? What is there to do but give way 1 I feel what 
 feeble opposition I could offer swept away and scattered to 
 the winds. 
 
 Kismet ! It is fate. I bow to it. 
 
 My last shred of argument is destroyed by the concession 
 he has made at the end of the letter, for I asserted myself 
 so far as to say I positively would not consent to the 
 marriage without consulting Miss Winterson, who had 
 proved herself so kind a friend to me. It would have been 
 unworthy of myself, and ungrateful to her. I am a girl 
 with a Conscience. I have my limits. And I am not going 
 to have any romantic nonsense in the matter of my mar- 
 riage that I am determined on. One elopement in a family 
 is quite enough, / think.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 85 
 
 +* 
 
 XII. 
 
 MAY 26, 1886. Matthew has been as good as his word, 
 and has returned to-day marriage licence and all ! I had 
 l>een expecting him and looked ah, how eagerly ! from 
 my window with the very first streak of dawn this morning, 
 and I cannot describe the rush of feeling that took my 
 heart by storm when I saw the sunlight falling on the 
 white sails of the yacht in the harbour once more. Some 
 one I thought I could recognize him, though he was 
 diminished to a mere pigmy by the distance was moving 
 about on the deck moving about impatiently, I told 
 myself, anxious for the time to arrive when he might come 
 ashore to see Somebody else. 
 
 Matthew, of course, was well aware of the hours kept at 
 Fernridge, and would be sure not to put in his appearance 
 much before ten. Up till that hour my time was my own. 
 In fine weather I usually spend it in wandering about on 
 tho cliffs, where I could enjoy the fresh sea-breeze . This 
 morning was a fine morning, and accordingly, at my usual 
 hour, I set out for the cliffs. 
 
 In passing over the smooth-shaven lawn in front of the 
 house, I came in full view of the yacht, and before I was 
 half way across I noticed tho Pigmy on board all at once 
 cease pacing up and down and go temporarily out of sight. 
 Then a boat put out from the vessel's side and came 
 scudding over the water to the shore ; and a minute or two 
 after I had reached my regular promenade I saw Matthew 
 hurrying towards me. (How impulsive some people are in 
 greeting any one after even a temporary absence. Matthew 
 is one of these, and is very impulsive very.) Then we 
 walked, he and I I with my arm in his up and down tho 
 narrow beaten track above the cliffs, and he showed me the 
 mysterious document, the License, which he had brought 
 with him from Wellington, as he had said he would 
 though I had not believed he was half in earnest when he 
 said it.
 
 86 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Now, Etty," and he frightened me by opening out the 
 License in a dangerously business-like way, " this will allow 
 us to marry in just a fortnight's time from now, and seeing 
 we've known each other for such along time " 
 
 " We've known each other for just a little more than 
 twelve months," I objected, and till that moment I had not 
 myself realized how short the time had really been. 
 
 " and we've both made up our minds 
 
 "Only twelve months, Matthew; think how short 
 I began again. 
 
 " Miss Gower, we went over all that ground in our 
 letters, and I got the best of the argument. You talk as 
 lightly of twelve months as if you had come in for your 
 inheritance of eternal life. Listen to your own words: 
 ' Adjective, adjective Matthew, I consent' (you scratched 
 that out and re-wrote it three times, fickle-minded Miss, 
 before you made up your mind) ; ' but on condition that 
 Miss Winterson is not kept in ignorance ' (you have care- 
 fully underlined that). Now, I have consented that Miss 
 Winterson should not be kept in ignorance ; and if you 
 breathe another word I shall think you no longer love 
 me." 
 
 "Oh, Matthew." 
 
 " Another thing. See this." And he produced an un- 
 opened letter from his pocket and waved it before me. " I 
 received that last evening, and I have taken a solemn oath 
 that whatever it may contain it shall not be opened till 1 
 am the happiest man in New Zealand. The last message I 
 got took me away from you for weeks. ' Once caught, 
 twice shy.' If I don't open it, I can't know what's in it 
 logic that, isn't it 1 " 
 
 " But, Matthew how foolish ! You don't know what 
 may depend upon it. Some one may be dying for all you 
 know." 
 
 " Can't help it," he said, putting his hand one hand ; 
 the other was occupied in his pocket, and shaking his 
 head resignedly. " Some one may be dying ; some one may
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 87 
 
 be dead. I expect it's something of the kind. They 
 wouldn't write for nothing, I dare say. The fortunes of 
 the house of Redmayne may be hanging on it, but there 
 that letter remains until you allow me to break the seal. 
 So now you know the responsibility that rests on your 
 shoulders." 
 
 " Nonsense ; it isn't fair. Read it at once, sir ! " 
 
 " No, Miss Gower ; never a line," he said, obstinately. 
 He took it out again, and looking at it, and addressing him- 
 self to it, said reflectively " Isn't it hard on a man ? Here's 
 a message that's come scores of miles to his hand ; it may 
 mean life or death or ruin or ten thousand things, but open 
 it he must not read it he must not and all because of the 
 obstinacy of a woman, and that woman his affianced wife." 
 
 " Matthew, I I have promised, and that should be 
 enough. If anything should happen you'll never forgive 
 yourself 
 
 " You'll never forgive yourself, you mean ; it lies with 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, but it doesn't lie with me. I won't take any 
 such responsibility. It is sent to you, and you should 
 read it at once." 
 
 " Esther, my dear girl," he said, with mock solemnity, 
 "a time will come (soon, I hope) when you will know me 
 better. I've made up my mind " (and he began to check 
 off on his fingers in the most obstinately positive way the 
 number of things on which he had made up his mind) 
 "that you're the best and dearest girl in all the world 
 to me. I don't intend to change it. We've both both, 
 mind made up our minds to marry one another. /, at 
 any rate, don't intend to change on that point. I've made 
 up my mind that until you've fulfilled your promise 
 nothing more than your promise, remember and I can 
 claim you as my wife before the world, that letter remains 
 unopened." 
 
 " Matthew," I said, determined to make him see my side 
 of the question, "it is foolish "
 
 88 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "Foolish to love you, darling?" 
 
 " To act like this. Who knows what that letter may 
 contain ? " 
 
 I spoke almost angrily, but he answered with his 
 immovable good humour 
 
 " You said that before, my dear ; I ana surprised at you 
 hesitating so long when it lies with you to set both our 
 minds at rest. Seriously, Esther, you have promised to be 
 my wife ; why not soon as well as late ? As for the letter 
 what if I open it ? Ten chances to one it will call me 
 away again, and so open the way for ten thousand things 
 to come between us. No, Esther. To-day, who knows, we 
 may be standing at the very turning-point of both our 
 lives our future happiness or misery may depend on your 
 decision. Why not decide 1 I promise you I shall read 
 the letter when we reach the church door, but not one 
 instant sooner. Come, say Yes." 
 
 He was pressing me hard, but I was not going to give 
 in yet. 
 
 " Matthew, how- how 
 
 "Pig-headed, say." 
 
 " How headstrong you are." 
 
 " Only masculine resolution, my love, I assure you ; 
 nothing more than simple masculine resolution. May I 
 take it for granted that your ladyship says yes ? " 
 
 Her ladyship was very slow in giving her decision. To 
 have a personal appeal made to one by the man one loves 
 is a very different thing from receiving the same appeal, 
 even though it may be in the same words, through the 
 cold medium of ink and paper. And, notwithstanding the 
 preparation which our letters to one another had afforded, 
 it came upon me with an embarrassing sense of suddenness. 
 It is a strange thing to me to love as I do, and to inspire 
 such love in return. Ever since mother died I have had 
 no one in the world to love or to be loved by but Cath- 
 erine, and her calling has kept us so much apart that my 
 life has for the most part been a lonely and friendless one.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 89 
 
 I leaned my head upon his shoulder and wept quietly. 
 His sympathetic nature understood mine ; his strong hand 
 sought my weak one and pressed it, and five or six times 
 we walked up and down the narrow beaten path in silence, 
 my head still resting on his shoulder, and his arm thrown 
 protectingly around me. 
 
 When we parted, he to return to the yacht, I to return 
 to the house, he said 
 
 " Then you promise ? " 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 A cloud passed from before the sun just then, and the 
 yellow flood of light came rippling down the pathway to 
 our feet. 
 
 " A good omen ! " he said. " Your future shall be my 
 future and it shall be a happy one for both of us. 
 Good-bye ! " 
 
 And that future begins in a fortnight ! 
 
 June 6. I am becoming quite frightened at Matthew's 
 obstinacy concerning the letter ; and to-day, to make 
 matters worse, a telegram came. Every day since the 
 arrival of the letter I have urged him to open it. But no ! 
 He only waves it at me and laughs, and puts it in his 
 pocket again. It has become quite discoloured and all 
 worn at the edges from being constantly carried about. I 
 am astonished that he can so control his curiosity. I 
 wonder what it can contain? It has become a veritable 
 nightmare to me. I have dreamt about it for three nights 
 in succession a dream that always frightens me, and 
 always wakes me up with tears on my face, but which, try 
 as I will, I can never recall clearly to memory afterwards. 
 It is foolish to allow such a trivial thing to influence one, 
 but somehow it fills me with a vague foreboding and dread 
 for the future. And the arrival of the telegram to-day 
 has naturally made me more nervous than ever. It doesn't 
 affect Matthew one iota. He looked at it and laughed 
 when it was put into his hand to-day, and said " Your
 
 90 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 sting is drawn for three days yet, anyhow ! Meanwhile 
 
 " and without another word he clapped it and the 
 
 letter together into his pocket-book, and put them in his 
 pocket. He smiled in the most irritating, self-satisfied 
 way when he saw I was about to speak. " We'll take it 
 as read, my love," he said, waving his hand easily. " I 
 know what you are burning to say, but there's time enough 
 yet ; we're both young, and we'll live to see the end of it, 
 never fear." 
 
 June 7. Worse and worse. Another telegram came 
 to-day. He smiled grimly, but seemed not the least in the 
 world inclined to open it. " In it goes with the others ! " 
 was all he said, and in it went beside the others accordingly. 
 
 " Matthew," I remonstrated, " you are a very, very 
 foolish fellow. You don't know what may be the con- 
 sequence of what you're doing." 
 
 " Let 'em telegraph," he observed easily, " it's only a 
 matter of copra or cocoa-nuts, I expect, when all comes 
 to all ; and copra and cocoa-nuts can wait, and I can't." 
 
 If another comes to-morrow I don't know what I shall 
 do. Copra and cocoa-nuts, indeed ! 
 
 June 8. It has come I This is terrible ! I was terrified 
 when he showed it me. All I could say was " Oh, 
 Matthew 1 " 
 
 " Oh, Esther ! " he said mockingly, and spread out all four 
 three telegrams and a letter as if they were something 
 to be proud of. 
 
 " In it goes with the others ! " he said again, grimly, 
 and in it went. " Copra and cocoa-nuts, my love, I'll 
 stake my existence it's only copra and cocoa-nuts. You 
 don't know the governor as well as I do. He's often taken 
 that way." 
 
 " Matthew, you you must be mad ! " 
 
 " Mad because I prefer you to copra and cocoa-nuts, my 
 love ? I want to show you before our marriage how little 
 anything weighs with me against my regard for you, dearest. 
 I mightn't have the chance afterwards," he said, lightly.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 91 
 
 I believe his own resolution is shaken, though he won't 
 own it, and that he only persists from sheer obstinacy. 
 Masculine resolution, only masculine resolution again, I 
 suppose. 
 
 To-morrow is the day ! What will be the outcome of all 
 this ? Rather what may not be the outcome of it for both 
 of us 1 I do trust it may not be the forerunner of some 
 dreadful disaster. I shall not sleep an hour to-night. 
 God grant this may end well, but I am afraid, I am 
 afraid. 
 
 June 9, morning. One difficulty over. The day has 
 begun well but will it end well 1 The first thing this 
 morning I told Miss Winterson everything. She was 
 amazed, and though she tried the dear old soul ! to hide 
 it out of consideration for me, who, I am sure, do not 
 deserve it, I know she must have felt hurt, but whether at 
 my conduct itself or my not taking her into my confidence 
 earlier, I am at a loss to decide. But she is a dear, kind 
 old lady, and has risen to the occasion with the best grace 
 in the world. She left me only half an hour ago, after 
 coming to me in my own room and treating me so kindly 
 that I feel quite guilty and shamefaced when I remember 
 how deceitfully I have behaved towards her. 
 
 What with the nervousness natural to my position, and 
 the dread of what those telegrams may reveal, I am almost 
 distracted. I have very little of the feeling of a bride. 
 This will never, never do. 
 
 This is the last entry Esther Gower will ever make ! I 
 do not know he will not satisfy me on the point whether 
 he has received another telegram or not. I do hope he 
 hasn't. His last words as he left me were, " You shall 
 know all at the church door." 
 
 Perhaps it is only copra after all. 
 
 Oh, wretched ! wretched ! wretched ! What a day this 
 has been ! Oh, Matthew, this fatal obstinacy ! He has 
 gone. What may not have happened before we meet again.
 
 92 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 He kissed me and left me as we came out of the church. 
 He read the letter and the last telegram only ; he had 
 received one one urgent one this morning, and would 
 not open.it until after we had been married. 
 
 [THE LETTER.] 
 
 ' ' Lcvuka, Fiji, May 2. 
 " DEAR MATTHEW, 
 
 " Please return to us as soon as you can do so 
 conveniently. I am uneasy about father's health. It is 
 nothing serious as yet -he even persists in pursuing his 
 business as usual but there is no certainty as to what it 
 may develop into, and the doctor either will not or cannot 
 give us any satisfactory assurance. As to the transaction 
 with the Messrs. Burnett about the copra, which he hinted 
 to you last mail he would employ you on, I believe he has 
 abandoned it. In any case you will be of more use here if 
 anything should happen to father, especially now that our 
 uncle is in England. There is no occasion for anxiety, but 
 please do not delay your return unnecessarily. 
 
 " Your affectionate sister, 
 
 " ELLEX." 
 [THE TELEGRAM.] 
 "Urgent. " Levnkn, Jtiiif, 9. 
 
 " Have telegraphed again and again. Why do you not 
 reply? Come at once ; father is dying. ELLEN." 
 
 Oh that that were all. A letter lay on the table when I 
 returned how we returned, whether we rode or walked, I 
 scarcely know. It is from Kate. God help her and me ! 
 
 It is unsigned, and barely readable. She has apparently 
 been interrupted in writing it. Oh, my God, what can 
 have happened 1 What can have happened 1 
 
 ' ' Ifnppy Valley Iload, June 7. 
 "DEAR ESTHER, 
 
 " Come to me at once. I have been deceived and 
 deserted. He has treated me worse " (here the writing was 
 illegible) " and has shut me up here as a mad woman. I
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 93 
 
 do so need your help. Take no one into your confidence, but 
 come at once. The house at the bottom of the hill, below 
 the three pine trees. Bring some money to " 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. You have now read, dear Matthew, all that 
 I have entered in my diary. My confession would not be 
 complete without the statement I am now about to make. 
 Had it been possible for us to meet, and for me to have 
 made by word of mouth the explanation I am now putting 
 on record, there are some things in it 1 might have kept 
 back. But when you have read this it will not matter how 
 unreservedly I open my heart or how complete the con- 
 fession I make. I have not altered a single word or line, 
 and to much of it your own memory will bear witness. In 
 what follows, however extraordinary it may seem, I only 
 ask that you will believe it as implicitly as that portion of 
 what you have just read, and which you know from personal 
 experience to be true. ESTHER. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 MY mind had misgiven me from the moment I heard of 
 the reckless match Catherine had made. While I had been 
 at The Peak I had seen quite enough of Kdgar Stadding to 
 convince me he was a selfish and unprincipled man ; but 
 it had never once crossed my mind that he could be the 
 heartless villain this letter showed him to be. . . . It 
 may have been foolish, but 1 had attached so much weight 
 to Catherine's request, in the letter she had written from 
 Auckland just after her marriage, asking me to be faithful 
 and not reveal her secret, that I had scarcely mentioned 
 her name to either Matthew or Miss Dorothy Ann. They 
 knew I had a sister travelling somewhere about the country, 
 and that was all. Now that this misfortune had come 
 upon her I was glad I had kept to my resolve so well, 
 though it left me without a friend to whom T could turn 
 for advice.
 
 94 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 It was one of those emergencies that bring out all the 
 weaknesses of my character. Catherine's letter was urgent 
 more than urgent and I should have set out at once to 
 her assistance ; but the trial and suspense of the morning 
 had left me wretchedly weak and ill. I was incapable of 
 the effort. I did not even leave my room. Miss Dorothy 
 Ann came to my door once, tried it, and called my name 
 softly. I did not wish to be disturbed, and had not 
 answered ; and she thinking, I suppose, that I was asleep 
 had gone away again. 
 
 I passed a sleepless night, thinking what I could do to help 
 poor Catherine, and wondering what the end of it all would 
 be. . . . When I arose in the morning my resolution 
 was taken indeed, there was but one thing to do : I would 
 go to Catherine at once. Happy Valley Road, the place 
 mentioned in the letter, was only a few miles from Island 
 Bay, and I hoped to be able to get there and back before 
 evening. ... I knew the place well : a dismal stretch 
 of roadway winding through a dark, precipitous gorge, with 
 a few wretched tumble-down buildings scattered along its 
 length so few, and so few of them fit for human beings to 
 live in, that I could have no difficulty in finding the one in 
 which Catherine was shut up. 
 
 So much had happened on the previous day, and I was 
 still so upset and confused, that I was simply incapable of 
 grasping the situation intelligently and considering what it 
 would be best for me to do. Beyond the vague intention 
 of visiting the place and seeing Catherine, I had as yet 
 formed no plans for her assistance. It did not even occur 
 to me whether I should encounter any difficulty in gaining 
 an interview with her when I had succeeded in finding out 
 where she was imprisoned. 
 
 Martha brought me my breakfast into my own room. I 
 knew I should have need of all my strength before the day 
 was out, and, though I was but little inclined, I ate a hearty 
 meal. . . . It was still early in the morning, but I knew 
 Miss Dorothy Ann was up, for I had heard her moving
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 05 
 
 about in her room. I wished to see her before I set out, 
 but how I was to account to her for my absence for the 
 remainder of the day I did not know. It was impossible 
 to tell her the truth ; it was impossible to meet her with a 
 subterfuge. In the difficulty, I came to the worst possible 
 decision : I resolved not to see her at all if I could avoid it, 
 but to leave a note on my table telling her not to be 
 alarmed, and that I should return before evening. I wrote 
 the note it was very short, $uid yet the words were very 
 hard to choose and then stole quietly out of my room and 
 down the passage, hoping to pass Miss Dorothy Ann's 
 apartment without being discovered; but as I came opposite 
 the door it opened, and Miss Dorothy Ann stepped out. 
 She started when she first looked at my face, and said in 
 her kindly tone 
 
 " You are up early, my dear. Are you not well you 
 look pale ?" 
 
 " Quite well, Miss Winterson, thank you," I said, 
 guiltily. " I I am going for a long walk : I think it will do 
 me good." (It was not so impossible to meet her with a 
 subterfuge after all.) 
 
 " That's right, Esther ; you are wise not to think too 
 much, nor too seriously, about what has happened. I trust 
 things are not so bad as they appear with Mr. Redmayne, 
 and that Matthew will soon be back among us again. Fiji 
 is not the North Pole, you know." 
 
 " I hope he will, I'm sure. But but I can't help 
 thinking that, however innocently, it was still through me 
 he was prevented from visiting his father in his illness." 
 
 "All! my dear," said Miss Dorothy Ann, smiling, and 
 taking both ray hands in hers, " I have known Matthew 
 longer than you have; and as yet, perhaps I understand 
 his disposition better than you do. He is a thoroughly 
 good fellow, or he would not have taken the notice he has 
 of an old woman like me ; but lu; is only human, like other 
 men ; and has a temper of his own, and a will of his own, 
 and I've seen him when he's had occasion to use both. The
 
 96 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 first, perhaps, you may never see ; but the second you 
 certainly will as you have already, in the matter of the 
 telegrams and when you have had a longer experience of 
 
 him as his wife There now, don't cry, my dear, or I'll 
 
 never forgive myself ; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. 
 You must try and not give way like this, my dear." 
 
 " It is not that, Miss Winterson ; that is not all that is 
 troubling me ; nor nor was that all that happened yester- 
 day I was ashamed of my tears, and felt it necessary 
 to say something in apology, and had gone thus far before 
 I checked myself. 
 
 " Not all, Esther ! What else was there what else do 
 you mean 1 " 
 
 "I received a letter a letter with bad news from a 
 friend," I said, turning my head away, for my tears began 
 to come afresh. 
 
 " Poor child, poor child," she said, kindly. "And can I 
 not help you ? Do not tell me, if you do not wish to ; but 
 can I not share your trouble with you? I have suffered, 
 too, in my time, Esther. I can sympathize with you, dear, 
 believe me." 
 
 " You are very, very kind, Miss Winterson, and if I were 
 free to speak you would be the first -" and then, between 
 the tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat, I could go 
 no farther. She saw that the interview was becoming pain- 
 ful to me, and had the kindness not to prolong it. 
 
 " We all have our troubles, Esther ; try and keep up a 
 good heart under yours, and be sure you have always a 
 friend in me, whatever happens," she paid, and left me. 
 
 The thought crossed my mind, now that I had spoken to 
 Miss Dorothy Ann, whether it would be wiser to leave the 
 note where I had placed it, or destroy it. I took a pace 
 towards my room with the latter intention, hesitated, 
 decided it would perhaps bo best to let it remain after all, 
 and turning, left the house. 
 
 The path to Happy Valley Road lay for a few miles along 
 the beach, and was so rough, and so strewn with great
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 97 
 
 boulders, that had it not been broad daylight, it would, to me, 
 a woman, have been almost impassable. There was a lurid 
 crimson blaze in the sky as I set out, a foreboding of 
 storm iii the atmosphere. The tussocks, which grew here 
 and there in patches on the steep hill-sides, and down close 
 to the beach, were so long, that they interlaced across the 
 pathway ; and they were so saturated and heavy with dew, 
 that before I had gone far on my journey my boots and 
 the bottom of my dress were as wet as if I had been out 
 in a heavy shower of rain. 
 
 After a little more than an hour's hard walking, or rather 
 scrambling, I left the beach, and turning to the right, 
 dragged wearily through a waste of dry sand until I entered 
 the Happy Valley lioad. The sun had become hidden 
 behind tangled masses of black, rain-charged, spongy 
 clouds ; the broad light of mid-day was dwindling to little 
 more than a murky twilight, and the steep wall-like hills 
 on either side of the road made it still darker. A moaning 
 wind was rising. The storm, which had been threatening 
 when I set out, was about to break ; and I hurried on, 
 hoping to reach my journey's end before it burst upon me 
 in its full fury. 
 
 I had often been in the neighbourhood before, but 1 
 could not call to mind ever having noticed the three pine 
 trees Catherine had mentioned in her letter, and I kept a 
 sharp look-out for them as I walked along. Presently 1 
 saw them. A sudden break in the changing masses of 
 vapour overhead allowed the sunbeams to struggle through, 
 and they fell for a moment in a blaze of light upon a dome 
 of white cloud that had formed low down near the horizon ; 
 and against this background of white, 1 saw the silhouettes 
 of three trees, close together, standing out sharp, black, and 
 solid, startlingly like the picture of the Three Crosses out- 
 side the walls of Jerusalem oil the morning after the 
 Crucifixion. It was only for a moment. Then the sun- 
 light died out, the white cloud was swallowed up and lost 
 in the swelling sea of black vapour around it, and the dull
 
 98 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 twilight shadow stole over the landscape again. "The 
 house at the bottom of the hill, below the three pine trees, 
 the letter had said. These, then, were the trees ; and 
 below them must be the house where Catherine had been 
 shut up by Stadding. Now it was too late, doubts and 
 difficulties that had never before occurred to me began to sug- 
 gest themselves. If Catherine had been imprisoned under 
 the circumstances the letter stated, Stadding must have 
 consigned her to private keeping, and not to an asylum ; 
 and if to private keeping, would he not have taken every 
 precaution a,gainst any one but those in his confidence 
 gaining access to her ? I was only a woman, alone, 
 unprotected, unassisted what should I do if admittance 
 were denied me 1 My heart well nigh failed me when I 
 thought how desperately Catherine stood in need of 
 assistance, and how little it was in my power to render 
 her ; and fearing the worst, and resolutely steeling myself 
 to meet it, I went forward. The wind that had been 
 rising died completely away, and a silence, still, dead, 
 oppressive as a nightmare, reigned. I walked on till I 
 reached the summit of a rise in the road just beneath the 
 hill where I had seen the trees, paused for a moment, and 
 then weak and woman-like closed my eyes. I closed 
 them involuntarily. I closed them because I knew that 
 when I opened them I should see Catherine's prison-house, 
 perhaps only a, few yards from me. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 IT was a big, dilapidated, two-storied building - 
 like a disused farm-house. It stood at the bottom of the 
 slope in a little lap among the hills, and faced a narrow 
 stretch of winding roadway. From where I was, only one 
 side of the house was presented to view, and all the 
 windows on that side were boarded up. The roof, which 
 was of iron, was brown with rust, and here and there there
 
 MATTHEW HKDMAYNE. 99 
 
 were great gaps in it. There were several chimneys, all 
 crumbled and weather-worn into mere tottering piles of 
 brick, save one, from which a heavy stream of smoke, 
 suggestive of damp wood, was rising. In one corner of the 
 roof was a sky-light ; and by some mental process which I 
 cannot describe, I at once became aware became aware 
 beyond any possibility of doubt or question that the room 
 beneath it was the room in which Catherine was imprisoned. 
 I lingered for a minute or two with some insane hope of 
 seeing a signal waved to mo from it ; and then, descending 
 the hill, approached the house by the rough cart track 
 which led to it from the coast. 
 
 It is a humiliating and dishonourable confession to make 
 but then I was only a mere girl, nervous, imaginative, 
 and timid, and the sight of that grim, forbidding, deserted- 
 looking place terrified me : I was sorely tempted tempted 
 almost beyond my feeble power to resist to turn my back 
 and make the best of my way home again. Prudence 
 whispered that it would be the very height of improbability 
 to suppose that Stadding would allow a second opportunity 
 to occur of rendering assistance to Catherine if the first 
 were not taken full advantage of. I was ignorant, un- 
 sophisticated ; I did not know what the extent of his 
 power over Catherine might be, or what villainous resources 
 might not be ready to his hand. Would it not be wiser, 
 after all, to set aside Catherine's desire that I should not 
 confide in any one, and go back and try to procure such 
 assistance as would ensure success even if the opposition 
 I was now beginning to dread were offered 1 
 
 I know now that this is what I should have done. I do 
 not exaggerate one jot when I say I would give my right 
 hand at this moment to rectify the tremendous con- 
 sequences that have resulted from following a contrary 
 course. I did not know, as I stood hesitating that day on 
 Happy Valley Road, with the first heavy drops of the 
 storm beginning to plash around me, and the first rumble 
 of the thunder sounding behind the hills, that the fate of
 
 100 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 my whole future life hung trembling in the balance, and 
 that by deciding the question I was then putting to 
 myself I should finally and for ever fix my destiny for weal 
 or woe. But so it was. I know it now. 
 
 I told myself it was cowardly to turn back. I conjured 
 up a picture of Catherine, deserted by her treacherous 
 husband, and suffering I knew not what hardships in her 
 imprisonment, waiting and wondering what would be the 
 result of her letter her desperate, despairing letter, written 
 I was afraid to think under what circumstances and 
 whether I would move hand or foot in her aid. Days had 
 now gone by since the letter had been written ; what 
 might not have happened since then ? 
 
 No ', having gone so far I could not draw back. I 
 turned resolutely towards the house, and walked along the 
 cart-track walked along it rapidly, for fear I should again 
 be overtaken by my pitiable indecision till I halted in 
 front of the house. There was an ill-conditioned tabby 
 cat squatting on the doorstep. Beyond this there was not 
 a sign of any living thing about the place. The upper 
 windows, like those at the side, were boarded up. Of the 
 two lower ones, that to the right was hidden by its shutters, 
 and had plainly remained so for a considerable time, for a 
 portion of the spouting above it had fallen out of repair, 
 and the course of the water escaping from it was indicated 
 by a green slimy track which traversed the shutter and 
 wall of the house down to the ground. The blind of the 
 window to the left was drawn down. . . . Had it not 
 been for the column of smoke arising from the chimney I 
 should have thought the house was deserted. 
 
 I walked up the path to the door the cat rising and 
 arching its back and bristling its fur as I approached and 
 knocked. My heart seemed suddenly to trip up and alter 
 its beat, arid its pulsations grew heavy, slow, and choking. 
 I waited one two three full minutes. No answer came. 
 The cat, which I noticed now had an ugly red lump where 
 its right eye should have been, began to claw at my dress,
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 101 
 
 and then, with a suddenness that made me start and cry 
 out, it sprang on to my shoulder and rubbed its head 
 against my face. I tried to shake it off, but it clung so 
 tightly that its great claws pierced my flesh, and I had 
 perforce to let it remain. If I had allowed myself to pause 
 another moment, the little courage I had would have failed 
 me, and in spite of my resolution I should have given way 
 to the temptation that was again besetting me, and beaten 
 an ignominious retreat. 
 
 I knocked again. It was an effort of will, an effort to 
 which I urged my weaker self as a slave-driver might drive 
 a slave. . . . There was a sound of footsteps walking 
 softly along the passage, and the door was opened by a 
 feeble, little, old woman, very much bent with age, with 
 an evil-looking, erysipelas stricken face, and a tattered shawl 
 drawn round her shoulders. She fixed her eyes on a point 
 in space apparently two or three feet in front of me, and 
 stepped back as if to make room for me to enter. 
 
 "Ah, my dearie," she said, with unaccountable familiarity, 
 and in the wheedling tone one might use to a child in 
 arms ; " have you come back already ? I didn't look for 
 you so soon " 
 
 She was interrupted by the cat, which hurled herself 
 from my shoulder to that of the old woman with a shock 
 that fairly made her stagger. 
 
 I had expected to have my entrance disputed, but here 
 was the most unlooked-for readiness to grant admittance 
 a readiness so surprising that it roused my suspicions. 
 
 "You must be mistaken," I began. "I do not think 
 
 "Good Lord, ma'am, I beg your pardon," said the little 
 old woman, suddenly dropping her ingratiating tone, and 
 coming very close up to me, with the spectral-looking cat 
 poised on her shoulder, and peering up in my face. " I'm 
 that short-sighted." She passed her hand which I noticed 
 shook very much over her eyes as if brushing away some- 
 thing that impeded her vision. " I could only make out 
 it was some one in petticoats, and I thought it was my
 
 102 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Gertie come back. Gertie that's my daughter. And 
 what may you want with me, ma'am 1 " 
 
 " I came to see a person who, I understand, is is 
 staying here," I said, thinking it best to state my purpose 
 at once, and feeling, too, that at the vital moment when 
 perhaps the whole success of my object depended upon my 
 self-assertion and confidence I had stated that purpose in 
 the feeblest and least impressive manner. 
 
 The old woman's face slowly took upon itself a look 
 of low cunning and impassiveness. She shook the cat 
 from her shoulder, folded her arms very tightly iinder her 
 shawl, and holding her head on one side, looked up at me 
 with a faded air of coquettishness. 
 
 "I'm an old woman, and I'm a little dull of hearing," 
 she said, leaning forward with an air of careful attention, 
 and presenting one side of her face to me, so that I might 
 speak directly into her ear. " I didn't catch what you said." 
 "Ho ! and what's his name?" she asked, when 
 I repeated the object of my visit. 
 
 " It's a lady, and her name is Catherine Stadding," I 
 answered sharply, hesitating in spite of myself over the 
 hated name. 
 
 "Studding Catherine Studding! Catherine maybe, but 
 Stadding devil a bit," she said slowly, and with a maddening 
 sneer. " There's no such person here no, nor yet any- 
 wheres else either, for that matter, if I knows my man," 
 she added, with a thick laugh. " You've come to the 
 wrong shop, my fine lady." 
 
 " I've made no mistake," I said, " I know she's here. I 
 have a letter from her. I demand admittance to her. 
 How dare you keep her shut up here 1 How dare you 
 prevent me seeing my own sister 1 " 
 
 "Oh ho," cried the old woman in a shrill quaver, 
 throwing her head back, and placing her arms akimbo, 
 "we're sisters, are we 1 ? Oh, the dear creature! How 
 proud we must be of her ! And how proud her mother'd 
 be, if she could .see her darling now ! To be suz*e ! "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 103 
 
 " Stand out of my way, woman, and let me go to her at 
 once," I said, and with an appearance of resolution I was 
 very far from feeling, I made as if I would step past her 
 into the house. 
 
 "Ah-h; would you would you would you 1 ?" she 
 cried menacingly, catching my wrist in her bony grip. 
 " Don't you rouse the devil in me, or I'll spoil your beauty 
 for you, my pet I'll spoil your beauty for you." 
 
 " Catherine, Catherine," I called, " where are you ? " 
 
 There was a confused sound of footsteps somewhere 
 overhead, followed by a shock, as if some one had thrown 
 herself against a door, and a shower of blows rained upon 
 the panels. 
 
 " Here, here, here ! " I heard in a hoarse voice. " Is it 
 you, Ettie 1 Is it you ? Here, here, here. Come and 
 help me. Come and help me ! " 
 
 " Back, you little she-devil you," screamed the old woman. 
 " Back, I tell you, or I'll tear the eyes out of your head." 
 
 The blows, which had ceased for a moment, descended 
 upon the door again with redoubled violence. 
 
 " Ettie, Ettie, Ettie ! " called the voice I should never 
 have taken it for Catherine's it was so harsh, so hoarse, 
 so unfeminine. " Don't go away and leave me. Don't let 
 her drive you away. It's my last chance. There's only 
 the old wretch herself to deal with. Come and help me. 
 Come and help me. I'm locked in ! " 
 
 " Hear her," said the old woman. " ' Only the old 
 wretch to deal with' 'only the old wretch.' You'll pay 
 for this, my lady, Liter on," she shouted, in the direction of 
 the noise. " I'll pay you out for this by and by. I'll 
 make short work 
 
 " Give her drink," said the voice from up-stairs. " It's 
 driuk she wants." 
 
 " Let go my hand," I said. " If it's money you want, 
 I'll give you what I have ; only let me see my sister." 
 
 The change in the old woman's manner was ludicrous in 
 its abruptness.
 
 104 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "Na, na," she said, "if you're really her sister, I'm not 
 the woman to keep you apart, though, maybe, you'll not 
 be so pleased as you fancy when you do see her. It's few 
 pleasures an old woman like me can get, and if you happen 
 
 to have the price of a pint about you why " and she 
 
 twitched her fingers expressively, without finishing her 
 sentence. 
 
 I had often read of murders being committed for the 
 sake of the few shillings one might carry ; and, as I took 
 out my purse, I was careful to let the old woman see how 
 empty it was. What other money I had it was very 
 little, and I had only brought it with me because of 
 Catherine's request I carried loose in my pocket. 
 
 The noise above our heads began again, and as her hand 
 closed over her bribe, the horrible old woman shook her 
 fist at the invisible disturber of the peace, and uttered a 
 volley of ready blasphemy that made me shudder. 
 
 " Come on," she said, leading the way up a rickety flight 
 of stairs, and fumbling in her pocket for the key, " and 
 make her stop this infernal clatter, or she'll break the door 
 down before she's done, and there'll be the devil to pay 
 when Gertie comes back. Comin', you mad jade, d'ye hear 
 comin'. Will that satisfy you 1 ? Comin', comiri, COMIN', 
 I say ! " raising her voice to a petulant shriek. 
 
 After reaching the head of the stairs she led the way for 
 a few paces along a landing, thrust the key into the lock of 
 a door, and waited till I had caught up to her. 
 
 " You don't happen to have so much as the price of 
 another pint about you, young woman, do you 1 " she said, 
 framing her request as if she expected Xo, and looking 
 most unmistakably as if she expected Yes. " It's risky 
 work this. I had strict orders not to let anybody into the 
 house. It's lucky for you you only had an old woman like 
 mo to deal with, and not Gertie. Have you got so much as 
 the price of a " 
 
 "Not now," I said, impatient to see Catherine, and 
 doubtful of the policy of exhausting at once my only means
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 105 
 
 of influencing the old woman. " I'll give it to you after 
 I have seen my sister ; not before." 
 
 "Are you there, Ettie?" came the voice from the other 
 side of the wall. " Give her what she wants, and let her 
 go. Come to me come to me, for Heaven's sake." 
 
 " That's a dear," said the vile creature, with a smirk, 
 pocketing the coin I gave her, with a deftness that almost 
 amounted to sleight of hand. " Now she shall see her 
 sister and welcome." 
 
 She opened the door to allow me to pass through, and as 
 soon as I was on the other side, clapped it to again and 
 locked it. 
 
 " You're caught now, my fine lady," she chuckled. 
 " You got in for your own pleasure, but whose will it be 
 when you come out, my pretty bird whose will it be when 
 you come out, eh ? " 
 
 The room was quite dark, and I realized the danger I 
 was in at once. 
 
 " How dare you ? " I cried. " Open that door and let me 
 out, instantly ! " 
 
 " Are you there, Ettie ? " asked the voice. It came from 
 an inner room apparently next to the one I was in. I 
 hail not from the first recogni/ed it as Catherine's, and a 
 horrible doubt suggested itself to me that it might not be 
 Catherine at all, and that I had been enticed into a trap. 
 
 " Who are you ? " I cried in terror. " Is that you, 
 Kate?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," came the answer. "Don't you know my 
 voice ? Why don't you come to me, Ettie 1 What is 
 keeping you ? " and she rattled the handle of the door 
 impatiently. 
 
 Before I could answer, a slide in the panel of the door by 
 which I had entered was slipped back, and the face of the 
 old woman appeared at it. 
 
 "Here, take this, you little fool. I was only joking 
 with you," she said, tossing a key through the opening, 
 " though there's better than you had to make this their
 
 106 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 quarters against their will. There, that's the key of the 
 door in front of ye." 
 
 " And why is this door not unlocked 1 What right have 
 
 you to treat me like this " I began, my fears thoroughly 
 
 aroused by the conduct and evident character of the old 
 woman. 
 
 " Safe bind, safe find, dear. Make much of her while 
 you've got the chance. She's all your own for half an 
 hour " 
 
 The door of the adjoining room was shaken again 
 petulantly, and the voice called to me 
 
 " Ettie, Ettie, how can you leave me like this ? There 
 is nothing to be frightened at. Lock yourself up in here 
 if you are afraid. Do do come to me 
 
 The last words were -almost lost in sobs, but I was so 
 alarmed and suspicious of the old woman, who was standing 
 leering and smirking wickedly at me through the opening, 
 that I still lingered. 
 
 " Ettie, Ettie," sobbed the voice. Was it could it be 
 Catherine's, or was there some deception about to be 
 practised on me? 
 
 "D'ye hear 1 ?" said the old woman, pointing a shaking 
 finger towards the room. " She's callin' ye, pretty." 
 
 " Kate," I said, in an agony of doubt, " is it really you 
 that's speaking? It is not your voice I hear." 
 
 There was a sound as if something were being dragged 
 heavily along against the wall ; then a long, quivering sigh 
 a sigh laden with an expression of anguish beyond words 
 and then the voice said again, slowly and wearily, as if 
 it had not the strengtli to say more 
 
 " Yes, yes ; it is I." 
 
 I recognized it now. It was Catherine's ; and I un- 
 locked the door and was in the room in a moment.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNK. 107 
 
 '' CATHERINE ! " 
 
 Yes, it was Catherine. She was standing in the farthest 
 corner of the room, her face buried in her hands, her long 
 rich brown hair, of which she used in the old days to be so 
 proud, falling in a cascade almost to her waist. As I 
 paused and looked at her, her shoulders heaved with a 
 suppressed sob. 
 
 " Kate, dear Kate," I said, going up to her, and putting 
 my arm around her. " How long have you been here ? 
 Did you think I was never coming, poor girl ? " 
 
 She did not answer, but let her head sink upon my 
 shoulder, and continued her silent fit of weeping. One 
 hand stole out towards mine and grasped it ; the other she 
 held closely pressed before her eyes. 1 could feel her 
 tremble from head to foot her emotion was so great 
 and waited till she should recover herself before speaking 
 to her again. 
 
 The room was lit by a sky-light it was, in fact, the 
 room I had decided upon as I stood looking at the house 
 from under the three pine trees. Had it been a cell in a 
 prison it could not have been more comfortless. It was as 
 dirty as if it had not been entei-ed for years ; there was no 
 fireplace ; and save for a table and a coupli: of chairs, not 
 an article of furniture in the room. The opposite end 
 from where we were standing was divided off by a thread- 
 bare red curtain, which, being partly drawn aside, allowed 
 the faded coverlet of a bed to be seen. 
 
 "I am glad you've come to me at last, Ettie," said 
 Catherine, trying to compose herself, but with an angry 
 sob catching her breath between every few words. " 1 
 was afraid you had not got my letter- 1 did so long to see 
 a face I loved again You don't know what I've suffered 
 since we saw one another last he's never been near me 
 since he shut me up in this horrible don." 
 
 " Poor girl ; how long have you been here 1 Could you 
 
 ii
 
 108 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 not have let me know sooner 1 " I said, and led her to one 
 of the chairs, and sat down beside her. 
 
 " I scarcely know how long it has been," she said, 
 clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. " I have 
 lost all count of time since he brought me here. Oh, 
 Ettie, if you knew all, you would pity me you would pity 
 me. And yet he was kind at first. He said he loved 
 me 
 
 " But you are his wife, Kate, and he dare not continue 
 to treat you like this now now his conduct is known," I 
 cried. 
 
 She moaned and hid her face upon rny shoulder, and 
 then, after hesitating a moment, mutely put her left hand 
 on my lap. 
 
 There was no ring on it ! 
 
 I could not speak for a moment, and when I did the 
 only words that came to my lips were 
 
 " Oh, Kate, poor Kate ; is it as bad as that 1 " And 
 because I knew that, sensitive as she must be to her 
 position, she might misinterpret the most accidental ex- 
 pression of feeling that might escape me, I clasped her the 
 closer to me. 
 
 " I thought I had told you in the letter," she said, 
 sobbing so bitterly that her words were scarcely intelli- 
 gible. " He he kept up the deception till near the end 
 we quarrelled one night and he tore the ring off my 
 finger 
 
 " Do not tell me, dear, if it distresses you," I said, for 
 her sobs had choked her utterance. " Let us think how 
 we are to get you away from this place." 
 
 " No, let me tell you all, now I've begun." She pushed 
 me from her and began pacing up and down the room. 
 " He tore the ring from my finger, and put his foot on it, 
 and laughed in my face. ' You my wife,' he sneered. ' I 
 thought you had been long enough on the boards to know 
 a sham marriage from a real one. We've kept up the 
 game long enough,' he said, 'and now lot's end it, for I'm
 
 MATTHEW HKDMAYNE. 109 
 
 sick of it.' He was druuk, and when he is drunk he is 
 brutal. I would not believe him, but he took a wicked 
 pleasure in repeating it and throwing iny shame in my 
 face. I went on my knees to him that night, Esther I 
 did I was nearly mad. He was raising a glass of wine 
 in his hand ; he paused and listened, and I besought him, 
 if what he said was indeed true, that he would make the 
 only reparation he could make me. And, oh, I did I did 
 plead with him so," she said, with an eloquent, piteous 
 gesture of her hands. " What did he do ? Oh, Esther, you 
 don't know what a devil a man may become. He listened to 
 all I had to say, and then deliberately, maliciously, with a 
 smile on his lips, dashed the wine in my face. ' Does that 
 
 satisfy you ? Get up,' he said, ' and be to you. The 
 
 time for all that kind of thing is over with me now. You 
 knew what the game was as well as I did, for all your 
 pious show, you jade, you. I only drop you where I 
 picked you up. Go back to the profosh. again, for by gad, 
 if you can act as well on the boards as you do off them, 
 why there's a career before you.' I don't recollect what 
 happened next, but I was ill ill with the fever for weeks." 
 
 She burst into a passion of weeping again, but motioned 
 me off when I rose to go to her. A deluge of rain was 
 falling, and the wind had risen and was blowing in fitful 
 gusts that struck the house with the solid impact of sea 
 waves, making the rickety old building rock again, and 
 rousing a deafening clamour among the loose sheets of iron 
 on the roof. The lowering clouds overhead had been 
 throwing deeper and deeper shadows into the room. Sud- 
 denly the gloom was rent, like the veil in the Temple, by 
 the livid glare of lightning, and then descended again, 
 denser and blacker than ever by contrast. The rattle of 
 the thunder died away in space ; the wind re-asserted its 
 sullen buffeting of the house ; and the rain pattered upon 
 the roof, sweeping in flashes of white spray across the 
 sky-light above our heads. 
 
 But momentary as that gleam of light had been, it had
 
 110 MATTHEW 11EDMAYNE. 
 
 lasted long enough to reveal that which made me shrink 
 and cower in my corner of the room. 
 
 The flash of lightning had taken Catherine in an un- 
 guarded moment ; her face had been turned towards me, 
 and I had caught the full play of expression that animated 
 or rather distorted it. ... When I had received her 
 letter, while I had been talking with the old woman at the 
 door, when I had first entered the room where I now was, 
 it had never for an instant occurred to me that Catherine's 
 alleged madness was other than a wicked invention of 
 Studding's. Now I knew it was true, and that my sister 
 was a madwoman ! 
 
 It was not the deceptive and unnatural effect of the 
 blaze of light that had beat about her ; it was not the 
 misinterpretation of a chance expression of the moment, 
 nor the result of predisposing doubts or suspicions ; for, as 
 I have said, I had neither. It was vivid, instinctive, 
 infallible conviction. I do not know whether I should be 
 ashamed to confess it as selfish and timid, or whether the 
 feeling was natural and excusable in one of my disposition, 
 and situated as I was my love and pity for her and I 
 did love her and pity her became supplanted by a still 
 keener feeling a feeling of apprehension for my own 
 safety. I did not know but what she might, at any 
 moment, spring upon me and do me some violence. 
 
 The semi-darkness had fallen again so quickly that I did 
 not think she had noticed my start of recognition, and as 
 well as my distraction would let me I concentrated all my 
 powers of self-control in one effort to conceal the fact of my 
 terrible discovery. 
 
 On entering the room I had locked the door, 
 and the key was still in the lock. Catherine removed it, 
 arid then commenced pacing Tip and down the floor again. 
 . I was glad she had not noticed the ring which I 
 had so lately become entitled to wear, for I feared it 
 would excite her ; and while her back was turned to me I 
 quietly slipped it from my finger and put it in my pocket.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. Ill 
 
 ' I haven't told you half, nor nearly half," she went on. 
 " I feel if I told you all he has done I should go mad as 
 he says I am already. But you don't believe it you don't 
 think I'm really mad 1 " she said, breaking off suddenly, 
 and wheeling round towards me. 
 
 " No, dear ; of course not," I said, with a pitiable .at- 
 tempt to assume a matter-of-course air. " Why should I ? " 
 
 " And suppose I was ever to get out of here of course 
 it is only nonsense," she said with a simper but keeping 
 her eyes furtively on my face the while ; " but if I was, do 
 you think people would take me for a madwoman or 
 not ? " 
 
 Her question pained me inexpressibly. 
 
 " Why, Kate dear," I said, "of course you'll be able to 
 get away from here I shall see to that myself." (Did I 
 really mean what I said "J Heaven forgive me ! I do not 
 know whether I did or not. Some vague idea of rendering 
 her assistance I know I had.) " What have you done that 
 you should be made a prisoner of 
 
 " What have / done 1 " she said, fiercely. " What have 
 / done ? It is not what I have done that has made a 
 prisoner of me of me, his wife, for morally I am his wife, 
 though I should loathe and scorn myself 
 
 Another vivid streak of lightning shot into the room, 
 played for a moment over her in a gleam of livid fire as 
 she stood checked in the attitude of passionate hate, and 
 was gone again swift, momentary, silent. There was a 
 pause, and then the shriek of the wind and the furious 
 rush of the rain overhead were drowned in the hoarse roll 
 and echo and re-echo of the thunder. 
 
 . . . "What does that tell you, Ktt.it?]" she said, 
 taking a torn scrap of paper from the bosom of her dress 
 and holding it up before me. It was so creased and 
 wrinkled that what it contained was barely readable, and 
 it was with difficulty that I made out the words : 
 
 " .... I declare .... no other .... 
 I can think of .... else .... night. My
 
 112 MATTHEW RED.MAYNE. 
 
 whole heart and affec .... bound .... the 
 two words, Amelia LI -" (the last word was unfinished). 
 
 " ' I can think of no one else day or night. My whole 
 heart and affections are bound up in the two words, Amelia 
 LI " Catherine repeated, folding up the piece of paper 
 and putting it in her dress again. " I saw him write 
 it. It was one night when I was lying ill with the fever 
 one night after he had thrown the wine in my face and 
 he came to me and said he was sorry for what he had done. 
 
 " ' Shake hands, Kate/ he said, ' and let bygones be 
 bygones.' 
 
 "I could have forgiven him and tried to forget, if I 
 could only have believed him. But I knew he had come to 
 me with a lie on his lips and in his heart. 
 
 " ' Let bygones be bygones if you will, Edgar,' I said, 
 ' no one can have less desire to remember the past than I 
 have. There's only the future left to me, and only the 
 future left for you to undo the wrong you've done mo. 
 Before you touch my hand in friendship again, you must 
 give me back what you took from it.' 
 
 " ' You mean the ring,' he said. 
 
 " ' I mean the ring,' I answered. 
 
 " ' I know I said more than T should, and did more than 
 I should, the other night. I don't remember what it was 
 exactly,' he said slowly, as if he were choosing the words 
 that would deceive me most readily. ' I wasn't in my 
 right mind or I wouldn't have done it ; hut whatever it 
 was, I beg your pardon, and I'll make what amends I can 
 in the future. I can't say more than that. And now,' lie 
 went on, as if he had done all that could be expected of 
 him, ' now I've got a letter to write. Are we good 
 enough friends for me to stay and write it here, or not 1 ' 
 
 " I scarcely know why except that I had 
 learned only too well to suspect him most when most 
 friendly, and that I had suspected him all the time he had 
 been talking to me but as ho sat and wrote I got up 
 softly and looked over his shoulder, and this," pointing to
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 11 3 
 
 her bosom, " was the letter. When he came to the name 
 of the woman he was writing to, I became so excited that 
 I forgot myself and leaned forward to look more closely, 
 and he heard me. He half turned his head, and started as 
 if he had seen a ghost. 
 
 " ' Confound you,' he cried, putting his hand over the 
 letter. ' This is too much. I'll teach you to play the spy 
 upon me.' 
 
 " I knew now why he had taken the ring off my finger 
 and thrown the wine in my face. ... I said nothing, 
 but went to the door, locked it, and took out the key. 
 Our room was in the second storey, and I went to the 
 window and threw the key into the street. I heard it 
 ring on the pavement below. He watched me all the time 
 with an air of being completely at ease. 
 
 " ' Hul-lo, hul-lo,' he drawled, ' what's the little game 
 what's the little game 1 ' 
 
 " ' Xow,' I said, ' who is that letter for ? ' 
 
 " ' I'll read it to you when I've finished, my love,' he 
 said, ' now that you have been kind enough to prevent 
 anything in the way of interruption by locking the door, 
 just to see how a woman enjoys playing second fiddle in 
 this kind of game.' 
 
 " ' Don't drive me too far,' I cried, and I took up the 
 lamp and held it above my head. ' I give you three minutes 
 to tell me who that letter is to, or I'll pitch the lamp among 
 the bed-curtains and fire the house. We're locked in, and 
 we'll burn together.' And I meant it, and he knew I meant 
 it. I hated the woman and I hated him, as 1 hate them 
 now. . . . He's a coward, and he turned pale ; but he 
 tried to put a bold face on it, and half rose from his chair. 
 
 " ' Move a step if you dare ! ' I cried, and I swung the 
 lamp as if about to dash it among the curtains. 
 
 " ' God's sake, you mad woman, mind what you're at 
 with that lamp. Give me a moment to think 
 
 " ' No,' I said, ' not another instant. Once for all, am I 
 to know who that letter is to?'
 
 114 MATTHEW EEDMAYNE. 
 
 " ' Curse you ! Do your worst ! ' he said, and holding up 
 his arms so as to shield his face, he made a blind rush at 
 me. I stepped back a pace, and then hurled the lighted 
 lamp among the curtains. They burst into flames in a 
 moment, and seizing the opportunity I secured the letter 
 from the table and I've got it yet. They never found it 
 on me through all.' 
 
 " ' Help, help, fire ! ' he shouted, pulling down the curtains 
 and trampling on them. ' You madwoman, would you 
 murder me ? ' 
 
 " But the flames spread over the room, and I laughed at 
 him, and fanned them into a stronger blaze. The thick 
 smoke rolled round him like a cloud, and dazed and choked 
 him, and he staggered towards the window and threw it 
 open, I thought with the intention of jumping out ; but the 
 height was too great, and he turned to the door again and 
 kicked through one of the panels in his desperate efforts to 
 break it open. Then there was a sound of shouting outside, 
 in the street and in the passage, and the door was burst in. 
 
 . . . " I can only remember three things after that. I 
 awoke for the first time, and I was lying in bed in a dark 
 room with some one sitting beside me who forbade me to 
 speak. I awoke for the second time, and the country was 
 flying past a railway carriage window, and Stadding was 
 seated near me. I awoke for the third time, and found my- 
 self here. All the interval between the awakenings seems 
 like one long nightmare, that always in some way or other 
 resolves itself into that scene you remember in the theatre 
 at Wellington 
 
 The torrent of words stopped suddenly. Catherine had 
 acted rather than narrated her story, often raising her voice 
 to a shrill scream, so that I might hear her above the 
 incessant clamour of the storm without, and gi'ew so excited 
 especially towards the end that I became alarmed. She 
 paused now, and pressing her hands to her temples, stag- 
 gered, and would have fallen had I not sprung up and 
 caught her in my arms.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 115 
 
 " Oh, my head, my head ! " she said, as I supported her to 
 a seat. She sat down and rested her head on iny shoulder 
 sat so long, so silent, and so motionless that I stole a look 
 at her face to see whether she might not have become 
 insensible. Though the wind was blowing and the rain 
 falling as violently as ever, the atmosphere had cleared so 
 that one could see plainly in the room, and I was shocked 
 to find her watching me stealthily between her fingers, her 
 shoulders quivering with suppressed laughter, and an ex- 
 pression of insane, elfin enjoyment on her face. 
 
 " Catherine ! " 
 
 She did not move, but her eyes fell, her laughter ceased, 
 the expression died out of her face. 
 
 " Esther," she said, presently, raising her head, "I've not 
 told you yet why I sent for you." Her eyes met mine, and 
 their expression frightened me. " Ever since I was brought 
 here, 1 have only had one desire to escape ; and I have 
 desired to escapa only . for one thing to revenge myself 
 upon Edgar Stadding. Never a day or a night, that I have 
 not watched my opportunity ; but it has never come. It 
 was the scheming of days and weeks to get that letter away, 
 alone. I did not send for you because I wanted your 
 sympathy. Had that been all, I would have died sooner 
 than let you know. Ypu remember the night you came to 
 me at the Truss o' Straw? " she said, abruptly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And your telling me that Edgar Stadding mistook you 
 for me, the night he returned home ] " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 We had both risen, and Catherine stood with her hands 
 held firmly on my shoulders, as if she expected me to resist, 
 and was prepared to overcome me by sheer force of strength, 
 if I did. 
 
 " Since I have been here, I have found out no matter 
 how that he is about to marry the woman he was writing 
 to that night, Esther," she said, sinking her voice to a deep, 
 tremulous whisper. " If I die for it, he shall never do it.
 
 116 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 He shall never marry her while I live never, never ! He 
 thinks he has put me out of his life, but he will find he has 
 not ; he will find he has to reckon with me yet. There is 
 only one thing between him and me now, and only one 
 thing between me and freedom. Do you know what 
 that is?" 
 
 I trembled, and felt her hands close more tightly upon 
 my shoulders. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Yourself!" 
 
 " Catherine ! " 
 
 " As Catherine Stadding, I know, for I have tried, I can 
 never go out from this place. As Esther Gower I must, 
 and shall. That is why I sent for you. Now do you 
 understand ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Edgar Stadding mistook you for me," she said, rapidly 
 and excitedly. " Are the eyes of that old beldame sharper 
 than his ? Had you come yesterday, when her daughter 
 was here or to-morrow, it might have been different. " 
 
 " Kate, dear Kate, if there is anything I can do to help 
 you, you know I will do it it was for that I came. Only 
 tell me what it is. If it is in my power I will do it." 
 
 "It is in your power," she said, slowly. " But you will 
 not do it." 
 
 "I will indeed, Kate. Tell me what it is. Only tell 
 me what it is. I will do it, believe me, if I am able,'' I 
 said eagerly. 
 
 " It is very simple, Esther ; we often do it on the stage. 
 We'll double our parts." 
 
 " I don't understand you, Kate." 
 
 " We'll change clothes, then. I will leave in your place ; 
 you will stay behind in mine." 
 
 She spoke slowly and calmly, but her hands clutched my 
 shoulders with the grasp of a strong man. We stood for over 
 a minute gazing silently into one another's eyes. The wind 
 beat against the house ; the rain splashed on overhead.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 117 
 
 " Do you consent ? " she said. 
 
 Think of the position I was in. We were alone in the 
 room. She a madwoman, and I in her power. She was 
 stronger than I, and I knew that if I resisted she would use 
 that strength with the desperation of madness. If I 
 consented - - I shuddered when I considered what that 
 might mean. 
 
 " Do you consent 1 " she said. 
 
 " No, no, I cannot ; you do not know what you ask." 
 
 " You do not know what you refuse," she cried, furiously ; 
 and with a single exertion of her strength she forced me to 
 my knees, and stood threateningly over me. " You do not 
 know how I have set my heart on it; you do not know what 
 I am ready to do to gain it. Once for all, do you consent, or 
 must I tear the clothes from your back 1 " 
 
 " Catherine, Catherine, have mercy. Let me go. I came 
 to do what I could to help you I did indeed. Let me go. 
 I have friends. I will speak to them. They will help you 
 will help us hoth." 
 
 " Your friends ! Who are your friends ? Once outside 
 of here, you and your friends would forget me would be 
 ashamed to own me if you did remember me." 
 
 " No, Kate, they would not ; indeed they would not. 
 Only try me ; only let me go. We will help you ; we will 
 see you righted and set free from this horrible place. We 
 will do more for you than ever you could do by yourself, 
 even if you succeed in escaping. You have your rights 
 you have your remedy at law, and we will secure them for 
 yon, and give you a greater revenge against Stadding than 
 you could win without our help. What can you do alone 
 against him ] He has been too strong for you once, and he 
 will be too strong for you again." 
 
 "My remedy at law, my remedy at law," she said, 
 bitterly, still standing over me and still holding me down. 
 " You would give me law, not justice ; you would blazon 
 my shame all over the land, and have every linger pointing 
 at me and every tongue wagging at me. J'< u would give
 
 118 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 me a revenge I cannot gain by myself 1 No, you wouldn't. 
 What can I do alone against him 1 I'll show you that. 
 I'll show you and every one whether the law could give 
 me a revenge I am not able to take for myself. Only 
 let us meet face to face. I tell you, Esther, unless he 
 makes the one reparation he can make, I'll kill him I 
 will, I tell you, or he will kill me 
 
 " Oh, hush, hush, Catherine ! " 
 
 " Hush ! I will not hush. I tell you I will. He has 
 robbed me of happiness, he has robbed me of honour, he has 
 robbed me of freedom, he has robbed me of reason for I'm 
 mad, Esther, mad, though I try to hide it mad, mad. 
 Robbed me ! Oh, my God, what has he not what has he 
 not robbed me of 1 And you talk of what you will do and 
 what your friends will do, and tell me I should go to law. 
 Keep your law to yourself. Keep your friends to yourself. 
 I have none. None would own me for a friend. Do you 
 think I care a jot for my own sake whether I am shut up 
 here or whether I am free 1 Not I. Why should 1 1 
 What is life to me now? What has he left me to live 
 for ? Nothing. Nothing but revenge ; and for that I will 
 sacrifice myself, I will sacrifice you, I would sacrifice any- 
 thing. I have bided my time I have watched ; and now 
 the time has come, do you think you will persuade me from 
 it ? Come, I would not do you an injury. But do not 
 make me forget you are my sister do not madden me by 
 refusing. Do you consent 1 " 
 
 11 Hey, hey, hey, in there," cried a voice from outside, 
 and the door was rattled loudly. ' How much longer are 
 you going to be 1 ? Time's up half an hour ago. D'ye hear 
 me? D'ye hear me, I say ? " 
 
 " Hay a word if you dare ? " muttered Catherine, in my 
 cur. "Take care ; I am desperate." 
 
 I tried to struggle to my feet, but she held me like a vice- 
 
 " Let me go, Catherine," I pleaded. " Let me go. I 
 will come again. I will get help 
 
 " No, I tell you no, no, no ! " she said, in a fierce whisper.
 
 MATTHKW REDMAYNE. Ill) 
 
 " Hey there, d'ye hear? Come, clear out o' this. You 
 biu there long enough." 
 
 "A-a-h; would you?" Before I could utter the cry 
 that rose to my lips, Catherine's hand glided with the 
 swiftness of lightning from my shoulder to my throat, and 
 closed round it in a merciless grip. Tighter and tighter 1 
 felt her grasp become. I tried to speak again, but could 
 not. A blood-red cloud formed before my eyes. I could 
 not breathe. I was conscious of Catherine in the midst of 
 the silent struggle controlling her voice to speak calmly, 
 and giving some answer to the woman outside, and then I 
 became insensible. 
 
 When I awoke I felt sick and faint. J was lying on the 
 bed in the portion of the room J have spoken of as being 
 partitioned off by the red curtain. I was stripped of my 
 outer garments. Those which Catherine had been wearing, 
 but which she had now taken off, lay in a heap beside me. 
 Catherine herself, with the curtain, partly drawn back, 
 grasped in her hand, her body half bent, stood looking 
 down at me, as if she had been checked in the act of taking 
 a step towards the door. She was dressed in the clothes 
 she had taken from me. She shook her clenched hand at me. 
 
 " Utter a sound if you dare ! " she said, and she strode 
 to my side threateningly. 
 
 I sank back with a shudder. She looked keenly at me 
 again, as if to satisfy herself of my helplessness, and then 
 walked to the door. I watched her half stupidly. I did 
 not realize fully where 1 was, or what had happened. A 
 ray from the skylight fell on little Pure-in-lleart's feather 
 in her hat as she paused to put the key in the lock, nnd in 
 another moment she had passed out. 1 rose and tried to 
 make my way to the door, but before 1 hud gone three 
 paces my legs gave way under me, and i sank down. 1 
 tried to cry out, but my voice scarce rose above a whisper. 
 
 " Well, 1 hope you're satisfied/' 1 heard a thick,
 
 120 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 uncertain voice say. " Thank your stars you've conie out 
 with a whole skin on your bones, my lady. Not so fast, 
 not so fast. Na, na. Lock it, lock it, lock it let me see you 
 lock it, and pass me the key through the hole here, before 
 I undo this door to ye. I want no more of her mad rushes. 
 I can't stand 'em I'm an old woman, and I can't stand 'em." 
 
 It was the old woman talking to Catherine. 
 
 There was a sound of a door being opened and closed, a 
 sound of retreating footsteps, a sound of another door being 
 opened and closed somewhere below and then silence. 
 
 The old woman had not detected the deception. Catherine 
 had escaped, and I was left alone in the house. 
 
 This was on the tenth of June. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The discovery of the fraud, the return of the old woman's 
 daughter, my fruitless appeals to be set at liberty all that 
 happened during the time I remained shut up in the lonely 
 house on the Happy Valley Road, I pass over. They have 
 nothing to do with this statement. 
 
 I come to the third day, the twelfth of June. 
 
 It was evening, and I had been lying down from sheer 
 exhaustion. I had scarcely slept an hour from the moment 
 I had first entered the house, and had fallen into a wakeful, 
 disturbed slumber. I was awakened by a confused sound 
 of voices, among which I recognized the harsh, masculine 
 tone of Gertie, the old woman's daughter ; the shrill, broken 
 treble of the old woman herself ; and -was I mad or dream- 
 ing? I sat bolt upright, with my eyes fixed on the door. 
 There was a scurrying of footsteps in the passage. The old 
 woman was swearing dreadfully, her daughter was threat- 
 ening. The door was thrown open ; some one was hustled 
 into the room. It was Catherine ! 
 
 It was Catherine ; but how changed. Her face was pale, 
 thin, and drawn ; her eyes wild and sunken, her dress dis- 
 ordered. She staggered helplessly to a seat and sat down, 
 and rested her head upon her hands without even casting a 
 glance around her.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 121 
 
 " Catherine, Catherine, you have come back," I cried, 
 going up to her, and placing my hand upon her shoulder. 
 " Where have you been these three days 1 " 
 
 She raised her eyes to my face, gazed at me vacantly for 
 a moment, shook her head, and let it fall upon her hands 
 again. I thought she had not recognized me, but presently 
 she rose from her seat, and after pacing up and down the 
 room, turned to me and said with a thick laugh 
 
 "I have been somewhere and to some purpose. You'll 
 hear the country ringing with it when you go back among 
 your friends, Ettie." 
 
 " What do you mean 1 ? " I said. " What has happened? " 
 
 " I have met Stadding." 
 
 "Catherine!" 
 
 " He is dead ! " 
 
 " God forgive you, Kate ! " I cried, recoiling in horror. 
 " You have not killed him ? " 
 
 "Have I not?" she said slowly with a horrible signifi- 
 cance, and speaking more to herself than to me. " Have I 
 not ? " Her eyes sought the Qoor at her feet as though, it 
 seemed to me, they rested upon something that had fallen 
 there prone, face-downward, lifeless. 
 
 " Hush, hush, Kate. You do not know what you are 
 saying. You could not have done it." 
 
 " Why not," she cried, her face distorted with .the 
 fierceness of her passion. " Why should I spare him 1 Did 
 he spare me? What did I say I would do if we met? 
 Well, we have met, and my revenge is completed." 
 
 She came close xip to me. I forgot she was not re- 
 sponsible for what she had done. I forgot the wrongs she 
 had suffered. My mind took in only the one fact of her 
 crime. I shrank back from her touch. 
 
 " Oh, heaven," I cried ; " you have done this you, my 
 sister-- 
 
 I do not know what Midden light may have broken in upon 
 her poor disordered brain. Perhaps it was a momentary 
 gleam of sanity. A look of unspeakable pathos, a look of
 
 122 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 confused intelligence, as of one suddenly awakened from a 
 dream, came into her eyes. They filled with tears, and 
 she threw herself at my feet and clasped me round the 
 knees. 
 
 " Keep my secret, Ettie," she said in a hoarse whisper, and 
 so indistinctly that she seemed scarcely able to articulate. 
 " Do not betray me." 
 
 Her hands unclasped and dropped limply by her side, 
 and before I could stoop to assist her, she fell to the floor 
 insensible. 
 
 I loosened the things about her neck, and called loudly 
 for help. The door was thrown open, and Gertie rushed 
 into the room. 
 
 "Fainted," she said, bending over Catherine's senseless 
 form. " Help me put her on the bed. There, now, leave 
 her to me. She'll be right in ten minutes. Off with them 
 rags as don't belong to you, and take back your own. I've 
 had enough of this game. You're the first and the last 
 that gets in here on this lay, I can tell you ; and you can 
 think yourself lucky to get out of this hell upon earth as 
 well as you have." 
 
 In ten minutes I had resumed my own clothes 
 again, and without being permitted to remain long enough 
 to see whether Catherine showed any signs of returning 
 consciousness, I was hurried from the house, and found 
 myself once more on the Happy Valley Road. 
 
 I felt in my pocket for my wedding ring, which I had 
 taken from my finger during my interview with Catherine. 
 The pocket was torn and the ring was not there.
 
 PART III. 
 
 IX WHICH THE AUTHOR TAKES UP THE STORY. 
 
 [Ir will be noticed that Esther's confession chronicles the events 
 occurring up to the 1'Jth of .Tune, 1886. The confession did not reach 
 Mr. Kedmayne, to whom it is addressed, till April 24th, 1889. "tt'hut 
 happened between those dates it is the purpose of the following to 
 record.] 
 
 THE following extract is taken from the Evening Post of 
 the 12th June, 1886 : "Though fortunately the late severe 
 gale which swept over the country has not resulted in loss 
 of life, we have several narrow escapes to record. On the 
 evening previous to the day on which the storm burst 
 upon us, Mr. Matthew Redmayne (the son of Mr. J. AV. 
 Redmayne, the well-known merchant of Fiji), who had 
 been staying for a time at Island Bay, put to sea in his 
 yacht the Meg Merrilies. He had scarcely had time to 
 get well started upon his voyage, when the vessel was over- 
 taken by the storm, which increased to such a degree of 
 violence that the ^[e<J Aferrilies was soon being driven 
 helplessly before it in the direction of the coast whence she 
 had set out not many hours before, and she was headed 
 straight for island Bay. When the fury of the elements 
 was at its height, and only a few minutes before the yacht 
 entered the bay, her foretopmast was snapped short off, 
 and the top hamper becoming entangled in such a way that 
 the vessel bade fair to become unmanageable, Mr. Kedmayne 
 made his way aloft to cut away the wreckage. In the 
 midst of his efforts he lost his footing, and had it not been 
 for the exercise of the greatest agility he would in all 
 
 i
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 probability either have fallen overboard and been inevitably 
 lost, or been crushed by falling upon the deck. As it was 
 he managed to save himself ; but in doing so he injured his 
 right leg so severely that when at last he reached the deck 
 he was quite unable to stand. It was fortunate that the 
 Meg Merrilies a few minutes afterwards made the lee of 
 the island, and so escaped the fury of the gale. The vessel 
 came to anchor under this friendly shelter, and Mr. Red- 
 mayne was brought ashore at the first opportunity, and at 
 once taken to the residence of Miss Wintersou, where he 
 promptly received the most efficient medical aid. We are 
 glad to report that though the leg was severely strained 
 and contused, Mr. Redmayne will be well enough to resume 
 his voyage as soon as the necessary repairs to the yacht are 
 effected." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Now, Matthew, what is the use 1 Try and compo.se 
 yourself ; do try and compose yourself a little," and Miss 
 Dorothy Ann, whose eyes were very red and swollen, and 
 who looked very far from being composed herself, paused 
 and put her handkerchief to her eyes. "This constant 
 worry, worry, worry, will only make bad worse. Goodness 
 knows, this has been a trying time for us all ; but I do 
 trust it may turn out all right in the end 
 
 Redmayne started so impatiently that the bandaged leg 
 stretched out in front of him gave him a twinge that made 
 him bite his lips to keep from calling out. 
 
 "Compose myself," he said, bitterly. "Look at me 
 lying here .and playing the sick man with my wife gone 
 heaven knows where, and my father on his death-bed 
 She said nothing, you say, as to who could have written 
 the letter, or why she was going away?" lie broke oil' to 
 put the question he had put a score of times before, and 
 which had been answered a score of times before in just 
 the same way as it was answered now.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 125 
 
 " None, Mat, my poor fellow, none," said Miss Dorothy 
 Aim, looking over her handkerchief. " She set out the 
 moruing after you sailed. She looked pale and distracted, 
 and said she was going for a long walk, because she thought 
 it would do her good and, poor girl, she looked as if she 
 needed something to keep her up," and the red eyes went 
 down behind the handkerchief again. 
 
 "That is, she looked more distressed than could be 
 accounted for by what happened on the day before do 
 you mean ] " 
 
 " I am afraid, Matthew, that is just what I do mean." 
 
 " But what could have happened more than we know 
 of? You know of nothing in her past lite that could 
 
 " I know nothing, Matthew. All she said was that your 
 sudden departure was not all that had happened to trouble 
 her, and she seemed to blame herself, too, for being the 
 cause of your delay." 
 
 "But you told her she was not in the remotest way 
 
 "Of course I did," Miss Dorothy Ann hastened to say. 
 ' I told her she was not in any way responsible for what 
 had happened, and that she was foolish to let such a con- 
 sideration trouble her for a moment. But it was her 
 manner, more than her words, that drew my attention." 
 Miss Dorothy Ann paused and thought for a moment. " I 
 am still of opinion something had happened to distress her 
 that we know nothing of and judging by her manner, 
 something serious. Besides that, there's her note. C^uite 
 inexplicable it seems to me after our meeting, and what 
 we said to one another." 
 
 " Yes, there's the note ; much light it throws on the 
 subject " ; and Redmayne drew the note from his pocket, 
 and read it again disconsolately. " Dear Miss Winterson," 
 it ran, "do not be alarmed it you do not see me during the 
 day. I was anxious to see you before leaving, but 1 did 
 not like to disturb you. 1 shall be hark, I trust, by 
 evening. I received a letter yesterday, and it contained 
 an appointment to meet a friend, whom I have not seen or
 
 126 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 heard of for many months, and I could not forgive myself 
 if I neglected it. Yours faithfully ESTHER." 
 
 " You are sure she has never spoken to you of any 
 friend who would be likely to write such a letter as this?" 
 asked Redmayne, folding up the letter slowly, and thrusting 
 it into his pocket. 
 
 Miss Dorothy Ann had already put this question to 
 herself, and placed her mind upon the rack to suggest an 
 answer, all to no purpose ; and even now she paused again 
 and considered before answering. 
 
 "Quite sure I know of no one," she said, hopelessly, 
 " unless, perhaps, her sister. I remember she has mentioned 
 she has a sister." 
 
 "I know; she has mentioned her to me once or twice," 
 said Redmayne, knitting his brows ; " but one wouldn't be 
 likely to receive a letter, such as she mentions, from a 
 sister, I should say. Do you do you really think she 
 received a letter at all 1 " he asked, suddenly. 
 
 " Why, of course I do," said Miss Dorothy Ann, surprised 
 at the question. " Why ? " 
 
 Redmayne took out the note, and read it again thought- 
 fully before answering, and then said 
 
 " The morning you spoke to her, did she seem so excited 
 as to lead you to suppose her mind was was affected in 
 any way? " 
 
 " She was agitated agitated, it seemed to me, in a 
 rather unaccountable way. But that was just her dis- 
 position ; she is so nervous and sensitive. I think the 
 trial of the week before telegram coming after telegram, 
 and the suspense had unnerved her 
 
 " My cursed obstinacy ! " ho cried, passionately, crunching 
 up the note in his clenched hand. " 1 might have known 
 it ; but 1 give you my word, Miss Winterson, I thought 
 my father was playing me, like a trout, to see what 1 was 
 made of before he took me into the firm I did ; upon my 
 word I did. lie did it before, and I thought he was doing 
 it again. She did not appear," he began, and then paused,
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 127 
 
 and went on again "like one who would would kill 
 herself." 
 
 "No, no, Matthew! Don't entertain that thought,", 
 said Miss Dorothy Ann, clasping his arm, and speaking 
 very emphatically. " She would not do that under any 
 circumstances, I am very sure. It was not that ; whatever 
 it may have been it was not that, thank God. I know my 
 poor girl better than to think that." 
 
 " Somo accident Good God, Miss "Winterson, who knows 
 but she may have fallen from those cliffs into the sea. 
 Fallen ? She was out in that storm ; the wind would have 
 blown her before it like a wisp of straw And I cannot so 
 much as put my foot to the ground. It maddens me." 
 
 " Don't let us fly to the worst conclusion, Matthew. 
 Something, of course, must have happened ; but I hope it 
 is nothing serious I trust it is not so bad as you fear. 
 It may turn out better than we think." 
 
 " That letter that letter. I wish to heaven I could 
 find out where it came from, or what it contained or if 
 she received a letter at all. A friend what friend could 
 it be that could call her away in such a manner and with- 
 out a word of explanation to any one ] She could have 
 had no secrets she could wish to keep from you, Miss 
 Winterson ? " 
 
 " No unworthy secret, Matthew, I am very sure," 
 answered Miss Dorothy Ann, gravely, with :us near an 
 approach to reproof as circumstances would permit ; " but 
 secrets we all have, and, poor girl, she had hers, no doubt." 
 
 " It is strange she mentioned nothing to you. I cannot 
 understand it. There is some mystery beneath it all 
 some mystery I fear we are not likely to have cleared up. 
 Oh, Esther, my wife," he cried, with an uncontrollable out- 
 burst of feeling, and raising his hand to his brow, " \ 
 would give my right hand to know where you are to-night, 
 or for the power to set my foot to the ground to seek 
 you out. Three days ! Shall I ever see you again ? Oh, 
 if it had not been for my insane folly in not ojR'ning
 
 128 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 those telegrams before I did What could have possessed 
 me 
 
 " Nay, now you are as unreasonable as she was in 
 blaming herself for keeping you from going to your father. 
 If you had opened and read them ever so often, she would 
 have been called away by that letter just the same." 
 
 " How do you know she ever got the letter she says she 
 did?" he said, returning persistently to the one thought 
 that seemed to weigh most heavily upon his mind. " How 
 do we know what effect that suspense and that sudden 
 parting may have had upon her? / do not know -my 
 rough man's nature did not feel it ; but how do I know 
 how it may have affected her. Before heaven, Miss Win- 
 terson, I fear I stand guilty of unhinging her mind by my 
 madman's freak I do and if I never see her again I shall 
 never forgive myself 
 
 " Oh, hush, hush, Matthew you are letting it prey upon 
 your mind too deeply. You are no more to blame than I. 
 How can any of us tell what the future may bring forth ? " 
 Miss Dorothy Ann knew she was saying what was con- 
 ventional and commonplace, but what else was there to 
 say? And after all it showed that she did sympathize 
 with him. 
 
 " Ay, and who can tell what the last three days may 
 have brought forth," and Redmayne's head sank upon his 
 breast dejectedly. 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and Dick Drugget 
 entered. Redmayne looked up at his face anxiously as he 
 came towards him. 
 
 " No news ? " he said ; but he knew there was none 
 before he asked. 
 
 " No news," said Dick Drugget, sadly. " Every nook 
 and cranny for miles round has been searched, but there is 
 not a trace of her anywhere not a trace anywhere." 
 
 " Oh, my God," sighed Redmayne, " this is terrible. I 
 would have given ten years of my life to have been with 
 you."
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 129 
 
 "Don't give way, Mat, old man," said Dick Drugget, 
 sympathetically, his inveterate awkwardness asserting itself 
 even in his sympathy. " We did all we could. You 
 couldn't have done more if you had been there your- 
 self 
 
 "Yes, yes, Dick; I'm sure of that I'm sure of that. 
 But she is not found she is not found." 
 
 "I called down at the yacht 
 
 this afternoon, too," said Dick Drugget, after a long pause. 
 "They've finished the repairs, and she's all ready for 
 sailing." 
 
 " I can't help it, Dick ; I can't go not now, not to- 
 night. I'll wait till morning now. Something may turn 
 up. Was ever a man placed as I am ? " he exclaimed, a 
 deep flush rising to his face. " I am almost distracted 
 between the two." 
 
 " As well sail as not," said the other, with awkward 
 persistence. " You will do no good by waiting ; the search 
 will go on just the same whether you go or stay, and if 
 anything turns up you can easily be let know." 
 
 " I think Mr. Drugget is right, Matthew," said Miss 
 Dorothy Ann. " You cannot join in the search if you 
 remain ; .and you would only fret yourself to death lying 
 there. Trust me to let you know if anything happens." 
 
 There was another pause, and Dick Drugget looked from 
 the distressed face of the one to the distressed face of the 
 other, as if ho had something more to say, but was doubtful 
 whether it was the right time to say i(. 
 
 "They say there was a body found out at Lowry Hay 
 
 " he began. 
 
 Rodinayne and Miss Dorothy Ann looked up swiftly. 
 "A body] Of a woman?" demanded the latter. 
 
 "No, no, no, no," cried Dick Drugget, putting out his 
 hands, and speaking very rapidly, so as to prevent his 
 hearers dwelling oven for a moment upon tin* wrong con- 
 clusion he saw they had jumped to at one 1 * 1 , '' of a man, of 
 a man, of a man."
 
 130 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "Murdered?" It was Miss Dorothy who asked, but 
 with little more than an affectation of interest. As for 
 Redmayne, he had sunk back again, and was lost in 
 thought. 
 
 " From the marks yes." 
 " Is it known who he is ? " 
 
 " Stadding was the name," said Dick Drugget, leaning 
 forward with a kind of nautical roll, and resting his elbows 
 on his knees, and clasping his hands. " Edgar Stadding, 
 from a place called The Peak, I think." 
 
 " Stadding ?" said Miss Dorothy Ann, starting with 
 vague alarm. " Are you sure of the name ] " 
 
 "Yes ; Stadding was the name, I'm sure. He was found 
 with his head beaten in, and quite dead," said Dick, with 
 slow circumstantiality. 
 
 " Have they arrested the man who did it ? " Miss 
 Dorothy Ann's interest was something more than affect- 
 ation now. 
 
 " It's doubtful whether it was a man at all or not," said 
 Dick, wisely, as if he had an opinion of his own on the 
 subject. " No ; there's no one been arrested that I know 
 of. There are ' extras ' out about it. The body was found 
 this morning. You'll know the name, perhaps 1 ?" he said, 
 looking up in Miss Dorothy Ann's face. 
 
 Redmayne had not spoken as yet. He had been sitting 
 with nis head leaning upon his hand, apparently paying no 
 attention to what was being said. Suddenly, a thought 
 seemed to occur to him. 
 
 "Stadding, Stadding, Stadding 1" he said, questioning 
 himself vaguely, and turning slowly towards the others. 
 " Was not that the name of Mrs. Shaw's son Mrs. Shaw, 
 where Esther was staying before coming here 1 I am sure 
 I've heard his name from her." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Miss Dorothy Ann, starting up from her 
 chair, and laying her finger on her lip. " I saw some one 
 pass the window in the dusk. Please God, it is Esther 
 herself. Listen ! "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 131 
 
 Dick Drugget got up abruptly, and sidled towards the 
 door, ready to execute a prompt retreat if occasion should 
 arise. Redmayne sat bolt upright in the attitude of one 
 whose whole attention is concentrated in the one act of 
 listening. Miss Dorothy Ann stood motionless, her eyes 
 looking downward, her head partly turned towards the 
 door, as if she was half afraid of what was about to be 
 revealed . 
 
 The lock was turned, the door swung back slowly and 
 hesitatingly, and in the dusk the figure of a woman entered 
 the room. She advanced a pace, and then stopped and 
 hesitated, as if bewildered. Her face was pale and haggard, 
 and her dress torn and travel-stained. 
 " Esther ! " cried Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 A deep, fervent " Thank God ! " burst from Redmayne. 
 Miss Dorothy Ann saw that she was about to fall, and 
 hurried to her side and helped her into a chair. 
 
 " She has fainted," cried Kedmayne. " She is ill ! " 
 " Esther, my love, look up. Here is Matthew ! " said 
 Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 The mention of the name was like magic. The closed 
 eyes opened and the pale face flushed. She looked past 
 Miss Dorothy Ann to where Redmayne was lying upon 
 the sofa, and started joyfully to her feet with his name 
 upon her lips ; and Miss Dorothy Ann, saying something 
 about getting sal- volatile, went out of the room, though 
 she knew there was no other restorative needed. Dick 
 Drugget had executed the meditated retreat as .soon as 
 the door had opened, and was by this time half way 
 towards the yacht. 
 
 " Matthew," cried Esther, throwing her arms round his 
 neck and kneeling down beside him, her haggardness and 
 paleness swept away by the lovely wave of colour that 
 mantled in her face. " What has happened ? What has 
 brought you back ? Are you hurt 1 " 
 
 " Nothing has happened ; head winds have brought me 
 back, and the hurt is nothing,'' answered Redmayne
 
 132 MATTREW TtEDMAYNE. 
 
 between the kisses he pressed upon her lips. " But now 
 What has happened? What has brought you back, 
 and are you sure you're not ill? You looked ill just now. 
 Tell me all about it." 
 
 " Never mind, now that you have me back, Mat dear," 
 she said, her new-found strength seeming to leave her 
 again, and the paleness and weariness coming back into 
 her face at the question. 
 
 " Poor girl," he said, stroking her hair and gazing 
 fondly into her eyes. " You are tired. You will tell us 
 all about it after you have rested." 
 
 "Tell me Avhat has happened to you first," she said. " I 
 did not hope to see you back so soon. Have you heard 
 from home since ? " 
 
 " They think I am on my way to them now. I sent a 
 telegram saying I was coming, and of course they do not 
 know we have had to put back; But now you've come 
 back to us, I shall start at once." 
 
 "But are you strong enough?" 
 
 " I was strong enough to come ashore, my dear, so I 
 suppose I am strong enough to go on board again. But 
 how ill you look again, darling ; and you have not told me 
 where you have been these three days." 
 
 " I am not ill, Matthew, only tired. I am better since 
 I have seen you," she said, sinking her head restfully on 
 his shoulder " Matthew, dear," after a pause. 
 
 " Yes, my love." 
 
 " Will you take me with you when you go on board 
 the yacht again ? Please; do. You :ire hurt ; you will 
 need a nurse. I do so want to go." 
 
 " Why, certainly, my dear. Not half an hour ago I 
 would have given all 1 had in the world to have taken you 
 witli me in the first place. 1 shall never leave you alone 
 again never." 
 
 She seized upon his words eagerly. "Promise that you 
 never will, Matthew," sho said, shuddering a little, and 
 pressing closer to him.
 
 MATTHEW IlEDMAYNE. 133 
 
 " I promise, my love," he said, and sealed his promise in 
 lover fashion. " Ah, when I think how near I have come 
 to losing you No ! I shall never leave you again," he 
 repeated. 
 
 " Oh ! Matthew, how I wish you never had. How I 
 wish you had taken me with you instead of leaving me 
 here," she said, with a sob. 
 
 " Never mind it now, Ettie. It's all over, and you are 
 safe back again, and no harm done after all," he said, 
 easily. " Don't let it bother your pretty little head. I 
 was wrong to leave you ; but then, you see, none of my 
 people knew of my marriage, and under the circumstances 
 I thought it best to go alone." 
 
 "I know," she said, "I know; perhaps I shouldn't ask 
 to go now ; but you won't mind ; you'll take me, won't 
 you? I'll put up with anything if you'll only let me go." 
 
 "Of course you shall go, Ettie. What? The wife of 
 a day, and must she plead so hard to be taken with her 
 husband ? And after I had so nearly lost you for ever ! " 
 
 " It's too late now, Matthew, but if you had only taken 
 me at first," she said again, with a sigh, "everything 
 would have been prevented." 
 
 " I wish I had now, dear," he said, putting his own 
 construction on her words, and little dreaming what they 
 really meant. "It has been an anxious time for us all, 
 but thank God you are safe back again and now let us 
 forget all about it. It might have been worse. But what 
 made you set off in such an unceremonious way, without .a 
 word to anybody? Was it the letter? Miss Winterson 
 has told me all about that. But above- all, where have 
 you been, and what has happened to you these three 
 days?" 
 
 " It was the letter, Matthew. It was from a a friend 
 who was in great trouble, asking me to go to her assistance." 
 
 " And like the dear little impulsive soul that you am, 
 you went?" he said, bending forward to look into her eyes. 
 
 " Yes."
 
 134 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " But who was she, and where does she live, and what 
 kept you three days ? She is not one of Miss Winterson's 
 friends in Newtown? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Where then?" 
 
 " Matthew, forgive me, but I cannot tell you. She 
 bound me to secrecy both in her letter and and after- 
 wards." Her head was nestling so closely on his shoulder 
 that he could not see her face. 
 
 " But you can tell me where you were during the three 
 days you were away? " 
 
 " To tell you that would be to tell you all, Matthew. I 
 cannot say. Can you not trust me? " 
 
 " Trust you yes, my love. But when you set out you 
 expected to be back by nightfall. It is strange that you 
 should be kept three days. We all thought something had 
 befallen you." 
 
 " Well, Matthew dear, something did befall me. You 
 do not think I would have caused all the anxiety I have 
 if I could have helped it," said Esther, reproachfully, but 
 never lifting her head from his shoulder. " I would have 
 let you know if I could, but I could not. I regret oh, 
 more than I can tell you all the distress you have felt 
 through me ; but it was not in my power to let you know 
 the truth. You believe me, dear 1 " 
 
 "Yes, Ettie, of course. And now, one more question 
 Is your friend still in need of help, and can I help her ? 
 Or, rather, since it is your sovereign will that I must act 
 in the dark, can I help you in helping her 1 " 
 
 She pressed his hand and looked up at him gratefully, 
 as she said with unconscious simplicity 
 
 " And you will not try to find out my secret? " and then 
 added quickly, as he flushed at the question. "No; forgive 
 me, I should not have said that." 
 
 "That was a true woman's question," he said, and 
 laughed lightly. "Had you been a man I doubt if I ever 
 should have forgiven you."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 135 
 
 " But I am not only a woman, but a wife ; and some 
 day, perhaps soon, Matthew, I may ask you to redeem 
 your promise." 
 
 " When you get absolved from your dark oath of secrecy, 
 ebJ " he said. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And till then what has happened during these three 
 days must be a sealed book 1 " 
 
 " Please," she said, with a sigh of relief and a grate- 
 ful upward glance that amply rewarded him for his 
 forbearance. 
 
 " Very well then, my dear ; my curiosity is dead from 
 this moment. You are sure you are strong enough to stand 
 a sea voyage," he said, looking doubtfully down at her face. 
 
 " Say rather I am too weak to be left behind. That 
 would be the greater trial of the two, Matthew." 
 
 " But I believe you are ill, though you won't admit it. 
 And we start in an hour ; I must not lose another moment. 
 I have delayed too long much too long already." 
 
 "I am ready now, Matthew." 
 
 " By the way," he said, glancing at her hands, "do you 
 always wear gloves in the house 1 You have kept them 
 on ever since you came in. I hope there's nothing on a 
 certain third finger you are anxious to hide. Let me take 
 them off." 
 
 It was said in jest, but pale as her face had been before, 
 it went a shade paler, and then flushed crimson, as she 
 snatched her hand away with an affectation of playful- 
 ness, and went out of the room on the pretence of looking 
 for Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 X V 1 1 1 . 
 
 ONE would have thought that Esther's return 
 would have put an end to all the distress and anxiety 
 Miss Dorothy Ann might have felt on her behalf ; but it 
 had not. It may have been that something had passed
 
 136 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 between her and Esther during the time they were together, 
 while preparations were being made to convey Redmayne 
 to the beach for he would not delay his departure an 
 instant now, in spite of the pain the slightest movement 
 cost him, and in spite of the night having closed darkly in 
 or it may have been that her keen woman's insight was 
 not so easily satisfied as Redmayne' s unsuspecting nature. 
 At any rate, after Redmayne and Esther and Dick 
 Drugget- who had returned under cover of darkness had 
 taken leave of her, and she stood watching them as they 
 moved away towards the sea-shore with their lanterns 
 glinting here and there in the darkness, the look of 
 trouble that had been on her face for the last three days 
 was still there. 
 
 The lights dwindled away in the distance till they looked 
 like so many pale stars, and then came to a standstill, and 
 Miss Dorothy Ann knew that Redmayne was being put on 
 board the boat that was waiting to take him off to the 
 Meg Merrilies, lying waiting in the harbour. Then the 
 stars separated; one returned towards Fernridge ; the other 
 two floated away in the darkness, and then went out as 
 suddenly as if they had been extinguished. 
 
 " Poor Esther ! Poor Matthew ! " she said, shaking her 
 head with a vague pity. 
 
 John, the gardener, who had assisted in conveying 
 Redmayne to the boat, approached the garden gate with 
 his swinging lantern, and, as lie passed through and paused 
 for a moment, a horseman dashed up and said something 
 to him breathlessly. There was a quick interchange of 
 question and reply, and then the horseman dashed off again 
 at the same furious rate, and the clatter of his horse's hoofs 
 died away in the direction of the beach. John remained 
 standing for some moments at the gate witli his lamp held 
 high in the air, and his head craned forward peering into 
 the darkness. 
 
 Miss Dorothy Ann left her stand at the door and walked 
 down the path towards him.
 
 M.VITHKW UKIJMAYNK. 137 
 
 "Who was that, John ? " she asked, anxiously. 
 
 " Ane o' the pollice, mem," said John, still holding up his 
 lamp, and still peering forward. 
 
 "What did he want]" 
 
 " I'm thinkiu' it's the young leddy, uiem," throwing the 
 answer pettishly over his shoulder, as if annoyed at the 
 interruption. 
 
 "The young lady? Do you mean Esther Mrs. 
 Red may no? " 
 
 " He named naebody, mem ; but 1 kent weel eneuch wha 
 he meent by the description." 
 
 " What did ho want with her did he say ? " 
 
 John lowered his lantern and turned towards his 
 mistress with the barely suppressed impatience of a spoilt 
 servant. 
 
 " He named naebody, mem ; an' he didna say what 
 he wanted wi' the young leddy excep' speerin' whaur she 
 had gane." 
 
 "What did you tell him 1" asked Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 looking away towards the beach, where a couple of lights 
 were glancing about. "Hark, what was that? somebody 
 shouted something ; what was it? " 
 
 "They're cryin' on the M^cy, if I'm no mista'en," putting 
 up his lantern and craning his head forward again. " I'll 
 awa' doou an' see what's wrang." 
 
 " Stay a moment, John. Answer my question first, and 
 then you may go. What did you tell him when he asked 
 where Esther had gone ? " 
 
 " What did I tell him?" repented John, slowly, who did 
 not relish being checked in this way, and who was, more- 
 over, somewhat scandalized at such a question being put to 
 him. " What did I tell him i " ho said again. " What wad 
 ye hae me tell him? What wad I be likely tae tell him 
 but the truth ? 1 tel't him she had gane aboord the Mcy 
 Merrilies wi' her guidman." 
 
 " Listen, there's that shout again ! What was that ? " 
 
 " Aye, they're cryin' on the J/cy. I tell ye, mem.
 
 138 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 A-a-ay," he said, with a long-drawn note of surprise, 
 " they're daein' mair nor cryin' on her ; they're chasin' 
 her, niem. Dae ye see that licht comin' roun' the pint, 
 yonner, mein ? " 
 
 "Oh, dear me -what can this mean, John?" and Miss 
 Dorothy Ann was all in a tremble with apprehension. 
 " What can they want with Esther 1 What can have 
 happened 1" 
 
 "That I cudna' say, mem," said John, indifferently; 
 " unless maybe but na, that cudna' weel be." . 
 
 " What could not be 1 What do you mean 1 " demanded 
 Miss Dorothy Ann, quickly. 
 
 "I wis thinkin', mem but na, that cudna' be." 
 
 "You were thinking what ] What could not be 1 Tell 
 me what you mean," cried Miss Dorothy Ann, distractedly. 
 
 " Aweel, mem, I wis jist thinkin' o' the body they fund 
 the day oot at Lowry Bay but, as I said afore, that cudna' 
 weel be. But I can sune settle a' doots by gaun doon till 
 the beach 
 
 " Do, John ; go at once, and come back and tell me what 
 happens." 
 
 The two lanterns in the boat were placed so that they 
 shed very little light on the occupants, but it was sufficient 
 to let Redmayne catch the expression of sadness on 
 Esther's face as she looked away shorewards. 
 
 "It is always sad to leave a good friend, Ettie," he 
 said, in answer to the look, " but I trust you will find 
 almost as good where you are going. You will like my 
 sister Ellen." 
 
 " Yes," answered Esther, her eyes following tin; track of 
 old John's lantern ashore, as it traced the way back to 
 Fernridge, " Miss Winterson has been a good friend, and it 
 is sad to leave her ; but sadder for her than for me, for 
 she will be all alone in the old house now, while I will 
 always have you."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 13!) 
 
 " Always, Ettio," he said, " always ; " and his arm stole 
 protectingly around her. 
 
 Both were silent for a while, their eyes following the 
 course of the spark of fire on shore. Dick Drugget was 
 the oarsman, and only the regular clank of the oars in the 
 rowlocks, and the swish of the water around the prow of 
 the boat broke the stillness. The blades of the oars 
 glittered like polished steel as they Hashed up noiselessly 
 out of the black-looking water, and caught the light of the 
 lanterns. upon them. 
 
 " You remember Mrs. Shaw, Esther 1 " said Redmayne, 
 suddenly. " Did you know her son Edgar Stadding was 
 dead found murdered out at Lowry Bay." 
 
 He felt her shudder convulsively, but she turned her 
 head away, and he did not see the look that shot across 
 her face, or hear the half-uttered "Then it is all true ! " 
 that escaped her lips. There was a cold biting air rising 
 and stealing over the water, and he thought it was that 
 that had made her shudder. 
 
 " You are cold, dear," he said ; " draw this cloak round 
 you." 
 
 She was a long time arranging the cloak to her satisfac- 
 tion, and though she tried hard to control her voice, it 
 trembled as she forced herself to say 
 
 " I I did hear something about it ; but I did not I 
 had hoped it was not true. 
 
 " Too true, I'm sorry to say. You would know him, of 
 course. I have heard you speak of him." 
 
 " Yes, I knew him, but was never on very friendly 
 terms with him. I am shocked that he should have met 
 such an end." 
 
 " Had he offended you very deeply ? You never told me 
 why you disliked him ? " 
 
 "He had offended me and deeply. But is it not 
 known who who ? " 
 
 " Who it was that killed him ? No, not as yet." 
 
 " Nor any one suspected i "
 
 140 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " I believe not. There is no clue as to who did it, Dick, 
 is there ? " 
 
 " Scarcely anything," said Dick, " but what there is 
 makes me think it was a woman." 
 
 "A woman 1 -why a woman?" demanded Esther, 
 quickly, turning towards him. 
 
 " Yes, why a woman, Dick," said Redmayne, rather 
 surprised that Dick should have acted so much out of 
 character as to express an unsolicited opinion. 
 
 " Because they say there was a ring found beside the 
 body." 
 
 " A ring 1 " said Esther, faintly, shrinking into the 
 shade of the cloak to hide the deathly white that stole over 
 her face. 
 
 " A ring," said Redmayne, still more surprised that 
 Dick should support his opinion after he had expressed it. 
 " There can't be much evidence in that, Dick, I should 
 think it may have been the man's own ring." 
 
 " No ; this was a woman's ring, and more than that, a 
 wedding ring." 
 
 " It's a hard matter to distinguish one wedding ring 
 from another," observed Redmayne, feeling that, in the 
 light of recent experience, this was a subject lie might be 
 considered to have some knowledge of. " It is lucky for 
 us I had the forethought to have our initials engraved 
 inside ours, since wedding rings are lost in this haphazard 
 fashion eh, Ettie? Why, Ettie, dear girl, what's the 
 matter ? Light here, Dick good heavens, she's fainted ! " 
 
 "No, no, Matthew; I've not," cried Esther, recovering 
 herself with an effort. " I'm better now I am tired and 
 had almost fallen asleep that was all. Where is the 
 yacht 1 ?" she asked, looking about her in the darkness and 
 shuddering again. " Let us get on board as soon as we 
 can, Matthew let us get on board as soon as we can." 
 
 A few minutes after, Dick Drugget shipped his oars, 
 and the boat glided round to the further side of the yacht 
 Esther remained in the boat with her husband, watching
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 141 
 
 the preparations that were made for his removal, and did 
 not leave it till she had see him safely hoisted up on to the 
 deck. Then she too ascended, and helped him to his cabin ; 
 but had no sooner seen him comfortably settled there than 
 she expressed a wish to have a last look at dear old Island 
 Bay, and went on deck again. Redmayne did not go to 
 the trouble of formulating the thought very clearly to 
 himself, but as he lay back on his couch it struck him that 
 feminine human nature was somewhat inconsistent : when 
 Esther was in the boat she was so exhausted that her 
 keenest desire was to get on board the yacht ; once on 
 board the yacht her first act was to wander on deck again. 
 Ah, well. 
 
 It was a relief to Esther to find 
 
 herself alone in the dark. While she had been with 
 Redmayne, with the tell-tale light shining upon her face, 
 she had been afraid to dwell for a moment on the thoughts 
 that crowded upon her, for she was not one of those who 
 can think and yet not have her thoughts reflected upon her 
 face. She did not know how long she had stood in the 
 friendly darkness lost in deep and bitter reverie, but she 
 was startled and roused from it with the bewilderment of 
 one aroused from sleep. It was probably the effect of the 
 conversation in the boat that she should have grown 
 unduly suspicious of things about her. Two lights were 
 moving about in the direction of Island Bay, and on the 
 instant she felt unaccountably suspicious of them. She 
 felt that they meant something, and that that something 
 concerned her. The yacht was now under weigh, and the 
 distance between it and the shore greatly increased ; but 
 the breeze was blowing from the land, and Esther was 
 convinced she was not mistaken when she thought she 
 heard the vessel hailed from the shore. Dick Drugget was 
 standing with a rope half-coiled in his hand, and he started 
 too, apparently at the same sound, but seemed doubtful 
 whether his ears had not deceived him. He hesitated a 
 moment, glanced shoreward, and then went on with his
 
 142 MATTHEW REDMA.YNE. 
 
 work. Presently the same sound came over the water again 
 only fainter ; but Esther was on the alert now, and she 
 was quite sure some one from shore was hailing the "yacht. 
 Dick Drugget had heard the hail also, and he dropped the 
 rope and went aft. As he did so he passed close by where 
 Esther was standing. Acting on the impulse of the 
 moment, she placed her hand on his arm. He had been 
 gazing as intently at the lights ashore as if they had 
 mesmerized him, and he started at her touch. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Drugget; did I startle you?" 
 she said. 
 
 " I I did not know you were on deck, miss," he said. 
 He was confused, and let the word slip from him unawares ; 
 and then, in still greater confusion, began an incoherent 
 something in the way of an apology. 
 
 She had her gaze turned towards the lights on the land, 
 and did not seem to be paying the least attention to what 
 he was saying, and broke in eagerly upon him 
 
 " You will not stop the vessel ? " 
 
 "I thought I heard a hail from ashore, ma'am." 
 ("Ma'am," with careful distinctness.) 
 
 " It can be nothing. Some stupid joke." 
 
 " Still, a hail's a hail," he said, unanswerably. 
 
 " Yes, but who can it be 1 There's no one in Island Bay 
 who can want anything of us." 
 
 " Not that I know of, there isn't," he said, with heavy 
 impassiveness ; " but something or other 
 
 " And Mr. Redmayne is so anxious not to be delayed," 
 she interrupted, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, I know that." said Dick, doubtfully, for he still 
 felt strongly that a hail was a hail. " I could ask him what 
 he thinks." 
 
 " No, no ! I had rather you didn't. I I do not wish 
 him to be disturbed. I am sure he would not wish any 
 attention to be paid to every chance noise we may hear. I 
 am sure this can only be some silly trick of some one who 
 wishes to delay us."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 143 
 
 " Very well, mi that is, ma'am ; if you think so, of 
 course there's nothing more." And Dick, still unconvinced, 
 was turning away again when he became aware of another 
 light suddenly revealing itself to windward, and which was 
 rapidly bearing down in their direction. The idea that 
 they were being pursued at once occurred to Esther, and 
 acting once more on the impulse of the moment, she stepped 
 up beside Dick Drugget again, and said 
 
 " Could we not put out our lights, Mr. Drugget?" 
 
 She was standing just within the radius of light thrown 
 by the binnacle lamp. She raised her left hand as she 
 spoke, and the light streamed full upon it as Dick turned 
 
 his puzzled face towards her There are 
 
 circumstances that suggest the same train of thought to 
 two minds, like sparks struck from the same Hint. Both 
 Esther's hands were gloved, but Dick's eyes happened to 
 fall upon the left hand only ; and though he was not 
 naturally suspicious, and had not up till that moment even 
 given serious thought to the murder that had been dis- 
 covered that day, in some spontaneous, unaccountable way 
 a chain of evidence pieced itself together in his mind, and 
 drove home its conclusion with the force of an inspiration 
 The ring found beside the body her acquaintance with 
 Stadding her three days' mysterious absence her agita- 
 tion in the boat when the murder was mentioned her 
 evident dread of pursuit- -above all, that gloved left hand, 
 that ring found beside the body. 
 
 Their eyes met. The process that had flashed through 
 Dick's mind was reflected in Esther's. She drew back, and 
 stepped out of the ring of light instantly, and without a 
 word hurried into the cabin. As the door rloM-d behind 
 her she heard for the third time a hoarse hail borne across 
 tho water. 
 
 Redmayne had been dozing, but he started up as she 
 entered. He gave one rapid glance at her face. 
 
 " Esther," he cried, " you are frightened ; what has 
 happened ] What is the matter ? "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Nothing, Matthew," she said, in a faltering voice, " and 
 and I am not frightened." 
 
 Pale, worn, and haggard as her face had been before, it 
 bore another expression now, after the mute, unmistakable 
 accusation she had just encountered on deck. It was a look 
 that at once appealed to him as something more than could 
 be accounted for by mere bodily weariness, and lie began to 
 wonder whether after all he had made the wisest choice in 
 bringing her with him. And then the events of the mysteri- 
 ous three days occurred to him, and with something that 
 was almost a shudder he drew her close to him. 
 
 " Yes," he murmured half aloud, " it is it must be for 
 the best." 
 
 " What must be for the best, Matthew ? " she asked. 
 
 " To have brought you with me, dear. It would break 
 my heart if we were ever parted again." 
 
 " Nothing shall ever part us now, Matthew," she said, 
 in desperate contradiction to the nameless fear that was 
 rising within her heart. 
 
 " Hark ! " he interrupted. " What is that 1 Somebody 
 has come alongside us." 
 
 They both listened. 
 
 " Well, well," said Redmayne, relaxing from his listening 
 attitude with easy confidence. " Dick's on deck. It'll be 
 all right." 
 
 There was a murmur of voices, lasting for two or three 
 minutes ; a sound as of the footsteps of several people 
 approaching the cabin ; a pause, and then some one 
 knocked. 
 
 " Come in," said Redmayne, wondering what could have 
 happened, and Dick Drugget entered and clapped the door 
 sharply to, and stood with his back against it. 
 
 " What's the matter, Dick ? What are we stopping 
 for?" 
 
 Dick never had a very ready supply of Avords at his 
 command at any time, but at this moment he seemed more 
 than usually at a loss. He remained leaning mute and
 
 MATTHEW HKDMAYXE. 145 
 
 helpless against the door, looked from Redmayne to Esther 
 and back again, and then let his gaze drop nervously. 
 
 " Who is it that has come aboard, Dick ? " 
 
 Dick raised his eyes, as if he \vere about to speak, but 
 they rested on the white, scared face of Esther, and fell 
 again. There was a restless movement outside the door. 
 Dick straightened his legs out stiffly, planted his feet flatter 
 and more tirmly on the floor, and leaned against the door 
 still more heavily, as if he expected resistance from outside, 
 and was prepared to overcome it. Redmayne heard the 
 noise and said impatiently 
 
 " What is it, Dick? Why don't you speak? What has 
 happened ? Who is it that has come aboard ? " 
 
 " It it is something of the greatest importance to you, 
 Mat," said Dick, in desperation at last, and speaking in 
 short gasps ; " but perhaps Mrs. Redmayne 
 
 " Nonsense, man ; never mind Mrs. Redmayne. Let us 
 hear what it is, and be done with it." 
 
 Dick shifted his feet again, and looked appealingly at 
 Esther ; but she avoided his glance and wound her arms 
 more closely about her husband's nock. 
 
 " What do you say, dear ? " said Redmayne, in answer to 
 something she had whispered to him. " Don't send you 
 away ? Why, what an idea ! Come, Dick, this is nonsense ; 
 what is it you want to say ? Where is the use in alarming 
 people in this senseless way ? If some one has come aboard, 
 tell us who it is." 
 
 "Well it's the Police." 
 
 ' The Police ! Don't tremble, my love. It's nothing ; it's 
 some mistake. The police ! Ask them to step this way." 
 
 Dick, only too glad of the opportunity, stepped out of 
 the cabin, and a sergeant of police entered. 
 
 "Mr. Redmayne, 1 believe?" said the sergeant. 
 
 "Yes," said Redmayne, shortly. "Jlu.sh, my love," he 
 whispered soothingly to Esther, who had said something to 
 him below her breath, " it is only some foolish mistake ; lie 
 will be gone directly. There is nothing to fear."
 
 146 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " I have come on a very unpleasant duty, Mr. Redmayne," 
 
 said the sergeant. 
 
 " Let me hear what it is, please. Some mistake, 1 
 suppose." 
 
 ' "There is no mistake, I am sorry to say. I have a 
 warrant to arrest your wife on a charge of wilful mur- 
 der " 
 
 A shrill scream from Esther, who sank forward a dead 
 weight in Redmayne's ai-ms. Redmayne tried to stagger 
 to his feet, but fell back again. The sergeant had gained 
 his promotion in a law-abiding community, and had never 
 before had the privilege of arresting any one for murder. 
 He had been in doubt when he entered the cabin whether 
 to lay his hand upon Esther's shoulder and go through the 
 formula of "arresting her in the Queen's name," or not. 
 He was glad now, seeing how she had taken it, that he had 
 not. 
 
 " Curse your infernal idiocy," cried Redmayne ; " you see 
 what you've done. If I was within arms'-length of you I'd 
 pitch you overboard. There a glass of brandy, quick on 
 the table there. Here, Dick," he shouted, " come here a 
 moment." 
 
 The sergeant poured out a glass of brandy and gave it to 
 Redmayne, who put it to Esther's lips. 
 
 " It's no use calling any one, or making any unnecessary 
 disturbance," observed the sergeant. " You may be sur- 
 prised," he went on, with a judicial air of making every 
 allowance; " but the warrant's out, and I've got my duty 
 to do." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 The sergeant beckoned, and a policeman who had been 
 standing at the door came in. 
 
 "I have no wish to hurt your feelings, Mr. Redmnync ; 
 but I have already stated my object. I arrest Esther 
 Redmayne on a charge of wilfully murdering Edgar IStad- 
 ding, at Lowry Bay, on the llth of June." 
 
 Redmayne started at the mention of the date.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 147 
 
 "When?" he said. 
 
 "The llth of June," repeated the sergeant. 
 
 " Let me see your warrant." 
 
 The sergeant was oppressed with a feeling that the whole 
 procedure had been wretchedly informal ; but the circum- 
 stances were peculiar, and he had been influenced by a 
 certain feeling of delicacy and consideration. 
 
 "Well, Mr. liedmayne," he said, "I let your friend come 
 in, in the first place, to break it, and make things as easy 
 and agreeable as I could all round, knowing the position 
 you were in, and I've strained a point or two in your 
 favour myself, and all the return I get is a threat to throw 
 me overboard an officer in the uniform of the Queen. I'm 
 a known officer, and if the person arrested may demand to 
 see my warrant, at least I'm not bound to show it to a 
 third party ; but considering I am in a sense not within my 
 precincts, and considering you are in a peculiar position 
 why, there's the warrant, and you'll find it all fair, square, 
 and above-board." 
 
 Redmayne glanced through it, and handed it back. 
 
 "Esther, dear girl, what is this 1 ?" he said. "Speak, 
 and clear up this horrible mistake." 
 
 " I warn you that whatever is said now may bo used in 
 evidence against you upon your trial," said the sergeant to 
 the shrinking girl, at the same time devoutly hoping that 
 something would be said that might be used in evidence 
 against ht-r upon her trial. 
 
 " Esther, Esther, look up ; don't kneel like that. Speak, 
 for heaven's sake." 
 
 At a sign from the sergeant the policeman had produced 
 a pocket-book, and now stood slowly turning the tip of his 
 pencil round and round between his lips, prepared to (ako 
 notes of all that passed. 
 
 " One thing more, sir," said the sergeant. " I must 
 see the lady's hands. Will you please remove the 
 gloves." 
 
 Her left hand was resting upon Redrnayne's knee. She
 
 148 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 seemed too stunned and bewildered to speak, but she 
 snatched her hand away, and held it behind her. 
 
 "Esther, this is folly," he cried, as she put out her 
 right hand in dumb protest. " For your own sake for 
 mine convince this man of his error, so far, at any 
 rate." 
 
 " Better that you should do it than me, sir. Very 
 necessary I should see the lady's hands," said the 
 sergeant. 
 
 " I refuse to be treated in this way," cried Esther. " I 
 refuse to be searched like this. Matthew, how can you see 
 me 
 
 " Ettie, listen to me. You don't realize your position. 
 You don't realize what you are charged with ! I entreat 
 you I command you let me see your left hand ! Draw 
 off your glove ! " 
 
 She obeyed with one bursting sob, but still held her 
 hand from her husband's view. 
 
 " There's no ring," exclaimed the sergeant, turning to the 
 policeman. " Make a note of that." 
 
 " Esther, let me see your left hand ! " 
 
 " Both hands, sir, if you please," said the remorseless 
 sergeant, bending forward with a critical expression of face, 
 and both his own hands clasped behind his back. 
 
 " Esther, let me see your left hand ! " repeated Kedmayno. 
 
 " Matthew, you do not believe Spare me 
 
 " Let me see your left hand ! " 
 
 No tears came to her eyes, but a sob shook her whole 
 frame as she placed her hand on her husband's knee, and 
 then bowed her head over it. 
 
 " A-a-h ! Esther, where is that ring where is the 
 wedding ring I placed upon that hand four days ago 1 
 Answer me." 
 
 The sergeant's eyes twinkled, as much as to say he could 
 have thrown some light upon the subject if he had liked. 
 Esther let her head droop forward till her face rested on 
 the hand that had betrayed her, and sobbed speechlessly.
 
 MATTHEW 11KDMAYNE. 140 
 
 Redinayne sat looking down upon her with an expression 
 that baffles description ; the sergeant felt that the supreme 
 moment had come, and stood with his right arm crossed in 
 front of him, the hand clasping his left elbow, his chin 
 resting in the prong formed by his left forefinger and 
 thumb ; the policeman, with the note-book open in his 
 hand, was turning the point of his pencil round and round 
 again between his lips, ready to take more notes. 
 
 "Where is the ring, Esther?" demanded Bedinayne 
 again, his face growing hard and stern. 
 
 " I do not know," she sobbed, without lifting her head. 
 " I cannot tell you." 
 
 " Those three days where were you ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you." 
 
 " Did you is it true that There was a ring found 
 beside the body, was there not? " said Redmayne, turning 
 to the sergeant. " Speak out," he cried fiercely, as the 
 sergeant hesitated. 
 
 " Well, there was," answered the sergeant, slowly ; 
 his eyes plainly adding, " Considering you are in a peculiar 
 position." 
 
 " A woman's ring 1 " 
 
 " A woman's ring." 
 
 " A wedding ring ? " 
 
 " A wedding ring." 
 
 " What else? Were there any marks on it? " 
 
 " The initials 
 
 The sergeant stopped abruptly. He had repeated what 
 the numerous " extras " posted about had already made 
 public, and his consideration for one's peculiar position 
 could take him no further. 
 
 " I'm not at liberty to say," he replied, finally. 
 
 "Esther, Esther, for Clod's sake speak," cried Redmaync, 
 carried away by his passionate excitement. "You will 
 drive me mad. What am I to think? You own you 
 knew this man, that he had deeply injured you 
 
 (The sergeant opened his mouth to repeat his warning
 
 150 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 hesitated could not find it in his heart to forego such 
 telling points that might be used in evidence considered 
 the first warning sufficient motioned to the policeman to 
 go on taking notes and relapsed again.) 
 
 " You are away for three days for some unknown 
 
 reason, and on one of them this man is killed ; you refuse 
 to say where you we"e, or why you went ; you start and 
 shudder when the murder is mentioned ; your wedding ring 
 is gone from your finger, and a wedding ring is found 
 beside the body. Great Heaven, will you not speak one 
 word to clear yourself 1 " 
 
 He paused and looked down at her, but she re- 
 mained silent. Her convulsive sobbing had ceased. Her 
 face was buried in her hands, and she was weeping 
 silently. 
 
 " Esther," he cried again, shaking her as if to awake her; 
 " speak ! Where were you those three days ? Only say 
 one word, and I will believe you." 
 
 " I cannot tell you," she faltered. 
 
 " Cannot ! You must ! Look at me ! At least say you 
 
 are not you are not Heaven ! I cannot even put it 
 
 in words," he said, falling back. 
 
 " Best leave it unsaid, sir," said the considerate sergeant. 
 " And if you've no more to say to one another, why 
 and he placed his hand upon Esther's arm. 
 
 She started to her feet wildly, then seeing Redmayne 
 did not move or speak, threw herself on her knees beside 
 him again. 
 
 " Matthew, Matthew, at least say you do not believe 
 me guilty ! " 
 
 "Where is the ring? Where were you those three 
 days ? Tell me the truth, Esther, and I will believe you 
 before the world." He took her hands in his, and their 
 eyes met. For an instant she hesitated. 
 
 A prolonged whistle from the sergeant, and stooping 
 down he .stretched out a fold of her dress between his 
 hands, his eyes riveted 011 what he saw there.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 151 
 
 It was the print of a hand in blood, clearly outlined on 
 the light material of the dress. 
 
 "Blood, as I'm a living sinner ! Here, make a note of 
 that, man ! " 
 
 " Great Heaven ! look at it ! " cried Hedmayne in horror. 
 " Oh, Esther ! Esther ! "
 
 PART IV. 
 
 THE REDMAYNE CASE. 
 XIX. 
 
 "THE Redmayne trial has now reached its third day" 
 (wrote the Wellington correspondent of the Evening Bell 
 on July 9th), "and the interest which it has attracted from 
 its commencement is at this present moment of writing 
 strained to its highest pitch. Indeed, I doubt if there has 
 ever been tried before any court in New Zealand a case 
 possessing such striking points of interest as rivet our 
 attention in this one. It is the royal right of women to 
 compel our interest, and it is impossible not to feel inter- 
 ested in the girl Esther Redmayne (for, indeed, she is little 
 more than a girl) as she stands hour after hour, and day 
 after day, in the prisoner's dock, while the most fatal chain 
 of circumstantial evidence is slowly, inexorably, link by 
 link, being fastened around her. Apart from any considera- 
 tion of her guilt or innocence, her position is unspeakably 
 sad, for she is a bride of but a few weeks' standing. Public 
 opinion here runs strongly in the direction of a belief in 
 her guilt. Her conduct, of course, as is usual in such cases, 
 may be interpreted either way, just as prejudice may dictate. 
 She is nervous and sensitive in the very last degree. It is 
 pitiable sometimes to note the expression in her eyes as 
 the course of the trial sets more and more strongly against 
 her as it is most unmistakably doing. Often she will 
 start and press her hand to her side as if she had suffered 
 a spasm of actual physical pain. This was especially the 
 case when the witness Hetherwick was giving her evidence
 
 MATTFIEW REDMA.YXK. 153 
 
 evidence, too, which was given with such an appearance 
 of spitefulness, and with such uncalled-for insinuations, that 
 she had to be checked more than once from the Bench. 
 Words seem at times on the point of bursting from the 
 prisoner's white, tremulous lips ; but whatever they may 
 be, they are never uttered ; and she shrinks back into her- 
 self with a kind of shudder, and looks round the court with 
 a helpless, hunted look, as if she had for the moment 
 forgotten herself and her position. This silence, which she 
 persists in maintaining, is the most extraordinary part of 
 her conduct. She literally refuses to make an effort to 
 defend herself, even when that effort, one would think, 
 might be most advantageously made. It is only reasonable 
 to suppose that she has sufficiently strong reasons for the 
 course she pursues ; but, as far as I can see, there is only 
 one possible effect it can have, alike upon judge, jury, and 
 public at large. 
 
 " The best legal advice has been secured for her by her 
 husband ; but the keenest intellect might well be staggered 
 at the mass of condemnatory evidence to be grappled with. 
 A glance at it will show its nature. The theory of the 
 prosecution is that a quarrel had occurred between prisoner 
 and Stadding, arising out of previous relations that had 
 existed between them ; and that they were on more or less 
 familiar terms will be found borne out by the evidence of 
 the witness Hetherwick. A letter received by prisoner 
 shortly l>efore the murder was committed and concerning 
 which she maintained the utmost reserve, even when 
 questioned by her closest friend, a Miss \Vinterson, saying 
 it conveyed 'bad news from a friend,' and (hat she was 
 4 not free to speak ' as to what it contained is supposed 
 in reality to have contained obnoxious proposals from 
 Stadding. Whatever relations may have existed between 
 Stadding and prisoner previously, it is natural the latter 
 would be exasperated at a reference to them immediately 
 after she had contracted an advantageous match a match, 
 too, it is pointed out, that had been kept secret till the
 
 154 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 very last moment. A menace being thus held over her 
 head, she availed herself of her husband's absence to seek 
 out Stadding, with the result that she took the most 
 summary way of for ever ridding herself of him. 
 
 " How far this agrees with the facts will be seen. Stadding, 
 the murdered man, put up at the Truss o' Straw, at the 
 Hutt, at about six or half-past on the afternoon of the llth 
 June, and he left the hotel again at about eleven o'clock at 
 night ; so that the murder must have taken place between 
 that hour and five on the morning of the twelfth, when the 
 body was found. Now, Esther Eedmayne received the 
 letter I have mentioned a day or two before the arrival of 
 Stadding in town. In consequence of this letter she absents 
 herself for three days and two nights (from the morning of 
 the tenth of June to the evening of the twelfth) from the 
 house where she was staying ; and she refuses to say one 
 word as to where she was, or what she did during those 
 three days. 
 
 " On the evening of the eleventh the night of the murder 
 Esther Redmayne was seen by a girl named Sarah Bundle 
 to step out of one of the carriages of the 5 p.m. train on to 
 the platform of the Wellington Railway Station. It is 
 known that Stadding was also a passenger by this train 
 the obvious inference being, of course, that she was follow- 
 ing him. It seems the girl Bundle was the bearer of a 
 letter from her mistress to her mistress's son, who lives at 
 Monk's Bridge. She had to call at the station on her way, 
 and while there she happened to see the gentleman to whom 
 she was to deliver the letter, and gave it to him at once. 
 It was dusk at the time, and a high wind was blowing ; 
 and what with the buffeting of the wind, and the confusion 
 of the people moving about on the platform, she declares 
 she would never have been able to recognize Esther Red- 
 mayne at .all and so an important piece of evidence might 
 have been lost had it not been for an ostrich feather 
 which the latter was in the habit of wearing in her hat, 
 and which had, indeed, been given to her by the brother of
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 155 
 
 this very girl Bundle. The crowd prevented her getting 
 near enough to speak, but she is positive it was Esther 
 lledinayno she saw. (The hat, with the ostrich feather, 
 and the dress in which Esther Redmayne was arrested, 
 were produced in Court, and the girl identified them at 
 once as those worn by the prisoner on the occasion in 
 question.) It was only by dint of searching cross-examina- 
 tion that what this witness knew could be obtained from 
 her ; her nervousness and confusion preventing her giving 
 anything in the way of voluntary evidence. She had been 
 a friend of prisoner's, and cried bitterly when she saw the 
 effect her evidence had produced. 
 
 " When the prisoner left the house on the tenth she had 
 a wedding ring on her finger. When she returned on the 
 twelfth that ring was missing. Strange to say a wedding 
 ring was found beside the body of the dead man, which 
 not only iitted prisoner's finger to a nicety, but inside it 
 was engraved a monogram containing the letters 'M.U., 
 K.R.,' which correspond with the initials of 'Matthew 
 Redmayne' and 'Esther Redmayne,' while Mr. Hugh 
 Bittlejohn, the well-known jeweller of Lambton Quay, 
 positively identified the ring as one he sold to Mr. 
 Redmayne, by its unusual breadth, and the initials which 
 he engraved upon it in accordance with Mr. Redmayne's 
 orders. 
 
 "The crowning piece of evidence, however, was yet to 
 come. It was that of the policeman who had arrested 
 prisoner. Ho deposed that she refused even to tell her 
 husband where she had been, and that he (the constable) 
 had found outlined on her dress the distinct imprint of a 
 man's hand in blood. The dress was again produced with 
 the stain upon it, and caused an immense sensation. In 
 addition to this, the evidence of a certain Mr>. llelhcrwick 
 went to show that an understanding of some kind liad 
 existed for some time between Stadding and Iv4her 
 Redmayne, and that the latter had been turned away 
 from her situation at The Peak because that understanding 
 
 L
 
 156 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 had become a little too plainly displayed. What did she 
 mean by that 1 AVell, she had once found them talking 
 together in the garden very shortly after the prisoner's 
 arrival at The Peak, and Stadding had been much put out 
 at the conversation being interrupted. They were on 
 much more friendly terms than is usual with persons who 
 have only known one another twenty-four hours. Was it 
 because of such a trifling incident that prisoner was turned 
 away 1 Well, she was turned away at a moment's notice 
 by her mistress Mrs. Shaw because her mistress had 
 thought it best in the interests of all parties that prisoner 
 should not remain any longer in the house. (At this 
 point the Court adjourned for the day.)" 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 "Surprise" (says the report on the following day) "is 
 not the word to express the feeling of the public here 
 when the verdict of the jury was announced to-day. As 
 far as my experience goes, there was not a single person, 
 who had paid any attention to the course of the trial at 
 all, but expected a verdict of guilty ; arid yet the jury, 
 after long and presumably careful consideration of all the 
 points in the case, and after listening to a summing up on 
 the part of the judge, which apparently left no loophole 
 of escape for the prisoner, have seen fit to bring in a 
 verdict of Not Guilty, and Esther lledmayne was permitted 
 to step out of the dock a free woman once more. 
 
 " No further evidence beyond that telegraphed yesterday 
 was taken, and the day's proceedings were comprised by 
 the speech of the Crown Prosecutor, and the reply of the 
 defending lawyer. The former contented himself with the 
 mere enumeration of the most telling points in the evidence, 
 apparently regarding the conclusion to which they pointed 
 as being too plainly self-evident to need strengthening. 
 He might point out one thing. He had already had 
 occasion to show that the probabilities against the ring 
 being any other than that of prisoner were simply in- 
 calculable. It was now attempted to show that great
 
 MATTHEW IlEDMAYNK. 157 
 
 muscular .strength would be required to deal the blow that 
 resulted in Stadding's death. Now, they knew that the 
 blow had been delivered on the side of the temple of 
 deceased the most vulnerable part of the head, and where 
 a well-planted blow by a vigorous child would be quite 
 sufficient to cause death, much more easily a blow by an 
 enraged woman. 
 
 " The defending lawyer made the best of an unfortunate 
 position. He was plainly hampered by the obstinate 
 reserve of the prisoner. The fact of her whereabouts on 
 the day of the murder, as far as it had been stated in 
 that Court, he maintained, had literally no significance 
 whatever. To regard her absence from Feruridge as 
 evidence of her presence at Lowry Bay, where the murder 
 had taken place, was absurd. The one obvious thing to 
 do was to prove that she had been either at Lowry Bay, 
 or at any rate in the vicinity, and this had not been 
 attempted ; and for the best possible reason she had 
 never been there. Again, her happening to be in the same 
 train as Stadding was no more to be looked upon as evidence 
 that she was following him, than it was evidence that any 
 one else in the train was following him. He admitted that 
 the finding of the ring beside the body and the absence of 
 the ring from prisoner's finger was a coincidence, but 
 nothing more than a coincidence. Such freaks of circum- 
 stance occurred every day, and wore familiar to everybody. 
 Besides, one wedding ring was as like another wedding 
 ring, as one pea was like another. Mr. Bittlejohn might 
 easily be mistaken in such a thing as a wedding ring. 
 The letters engraved on the ring might stand for ten 
 thousand other names besides those of prisoner and her 
 husband. He must impress upon the jury the necessity 
 of putting from their minds at once and for ever all con- 
 sideration of such an arbitrary construction, and be guided 
 only by the facts vital to the case. The mark of the hand, 
 too, must be held to prove nothing. It was the mark of 
 a human hand, and no more. "What man would have the
 
 158 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 audacity to declare it was Stadding's hand ? There was 
 absolutely nothing to distinguish it from any other hand. 
 If Stadding's hand had had any peculiarity or deformity, 
 and that peculiarity or deformity had been reproduced in 
 the imprint of the hand, then, and then only, could it be 
 regarded as incriminating evidence in the case. Besides, 
 he maintained that the blow which had caused deceased's 
 death could never have been struck by the weak hand of 
 a woman, whatever his learned friend might say to the 
 contrary. It was a blow requiring considerable muscular 
 strength, and could only have been delivered, if not by a 
 man, at any rate by some one of much more powerful 
 physique than the prisoner. Briefly, this was the sub- 
 stance of his address. It was weak, and every one regarded 
 it as weak. The strongest point in the whole address was 
 the appeal on behalf of the prisoner's youth, her unblemished 
 reputation, and the peculiar pathos of her position. 
 
 "The jury were absent from Court about two hours and 
 a half, and on returning the foreman pronounced the 
 verdict I have indicated. And so ends the great Redmayne 
 case." 
 
 In its leading columns on the llth July the same journal 
 makes the following comments on the case : 
 
 " . . . . . . . This has been, from 
 
 beginning to end, a most extraordinary case ; and though 
 we must accept the verdict the jury have brought in, 
 after, we doubt not, the most conscientious consideration, 
 and though wo are prepared to give the suspected person 
 the benefit of whatever doubt the twelve gentlemen may 
 suppose to have existed, we make bold to say that there 
 can be no moral doubt but that she who yesterday stood 
 in tli(! dock was guilty of the most heinous crime known 
 to tho law. We consider that the evidence brought forward 
 during the trial, if we aro to give circumstantial evidence 
 any weight at all, justifies us in saying that the verdict 
 declares nothing more than a mere technical innocence. 
 It is the crying evil of our criminal jurisprudence that
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXK. 159 
 
 it is possible for tho law to bo thus nullified that the 
 judicial acceptance of the solution to which the evidence 
 pointed with such absolute oonolusiveness should be 
 rendered impossible on what every thinking man and 
 woman must be convinced were, from a moral point of 
 view, utterly inadequate grounds. We have never, happily, 
 had occasion to speak in such terms before ; we trust it 
 may never fall to our lot to be compelled to do so again ; 
 but we should consider ourselves unworthy of the position 
 wu hold in tho eyes of the public if we spoke in less 
 trenchant terms than we have. We feel that in this 
 verdict of Not Guilty, we have thrust upon us that which 
 our consciousness of right cannot endorse ; that which is 
 an indication of inefficiency in our law, and that which is 
 inimical to the best interests of society. It is to say in so 
 many words, that the laws arc framed not to eradicate 
 crime itself, but rather to punish unskilfulness in its 
 committal."
 
 PART V. 
 
 THE ENLIGHTENMENT OF MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 XX. 
 
 ON the 24th of April, three years after the events recorded 
 in the last chapter, Matthew lledmayne, the junior partner 
 of the firm of lledmayne, Redmayne it Co., Levuka, Fiji, 
 locked his door, and remained shut up in his own room from 
 the hour at which the post had been delivered, early in the' 
 afternoon, till far past midnight. On that day Esther's diary 
 and confession, which have been open to the reader from 
 the commencement of this story, were for the first time 
 placed in his hands and read by him. Since the day of their 
 separation, he had not even known what had become of his 
 wife. He had heard, indeed, that she had gone back to live 
 with Miss Dorothy Ann, and then that they had gone away 
 from Island Bay. But feeling that they who were the 
 declared friends of the guilty woman he had called his wife, 
 could no longer be his friends, he hnd never seen or heard 
 from the old lady again. No communication had passed 
 between him and Esther since the day of the trial, save 
 one, which was handed to her on the very day of her 
 acquittal an offer to make provision for her on his side, 
 and a gently-worded but unmistakable refusal to entertain 
 the proposal on hers nnd like all the rest of the world he had 
 believed her guilty, and they had drifted out of one another's 
 experience. How else could things have been 1 With the 
 array of facts against her on the one hand, and her silence
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 101 
 
 on the other, what could he think but that he had placed his 
 affections upon the falsest and guiltiest of women one whose 
 memory he owed it to his manhood to thrust from his heart 
 for over. For three years he had schooled himself to forget- 
 fulness. He had seized eagerly upon everything that pro- 
 mised change of scene and occupation. He had travelled, 
 travelled, travelled. He would have scorned himself had 
 he allowed the old love to assert itself even for a moment in 
 his breast. His belief in her guilt had been too complete 
 for that. The very recollection of her name had brought a 
 sense of loathing and horror. He had thought how on the 
 last night when they were together, while his heart swelled 
 with a joy beyond words at their re-union, while he kissed 
 her and caressed her, while ho rested unquestioningly in the 
 belief that she loved him with (ho single-hearted affection 
 with which he loved her, she bore the guilt of murder in 
 her heart, and on her very dress the hideous brand of 
 her crime ; her eyes had looked into his, he thought, with 
 the reflection of the love that shone in his own, while 
 the brain behind them was scheming to make him the dupe 
 of a murderess. 
 
 And yet she was innocent. 
 
 The manuscript that had brought this revelation to him 
 was lying scattered about on the table. He took up 
 the accompanying letter, and began to read it again 
 
 "My PKAII HKSHAND, 
 
 " When you read this your wife of a day will be 
 dead. ......" 
 
 He could go no further, and his hand shook as he put 
 the letter on the table again. She was dead. He rose 
 and paced up and down his room, as he had been doing 
 mechanically for hours already. The first shock of the reve- 
 lation of his wife's innocence, and the groundlessness of his 
 own suspicions, had brought with it a confusion and paralysis 
 of thought. That had worn off now, and lie began to feel the 
 firm earth beneath his feet again. He thought of the three
 
 162 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 years' martyrdom he had suffered, and that his wife (he 
 loved to think of her as his wife again, now) had suffered 
 also. He thought of the chain of evidence that had 
 deceived everybody, and that had made him too the dupe of 
 his own senses ; he thought of the wealth of womanly love 
 and purity that he had thrust out of his life, and which he 
 had only learned to prize now it was for ever removed from 
 him. Ho cursed the bitterness of the fate that condemned 
 him to all this, and that tantalized him with the knowledge 
 of the truth only when tho warm loving heart was cold and 
 still in death, which had been true to him while he had so 
 cruelly doubted it, and which, had he only known, might 
 have beaten against his once more, as it had done in the 
 short sweet dream of their early love. He was too full of a 
 sad satisfaction at the knowledge that the woman he had 
 so often told himself he should learn to loathe and scorn 
 was after all worthy more than worthy of the best and 
 strongest love a man could bestow, to feel one thought of 
 reproach against her, now that she was dead, because she 
 had allowed her love for her sister to make her forget what 
 she owed her husband. He blamed what he called his own 
 suspicious nature. He should have known her character 
 well enough to be convinced it was impossible she could bo 
 the guilty criminal he had taught himself to believe her. 
 He blamed the blind chance that had woven this fatal web 
 of circumstance around them. He cursed the villainy of 
 Stadding, which, in rebounding upon his own head, and 
 bringing about his own retribution, had spread its effects 
 beyond his death, and blighted the lives of others, who had 
 
 scarcely even been aware of his existence 
 
 Tho hands of the clock stole silently round the dial. In 
 the east a faint opal light was shuddering among the mists 
 that hung above the horizon. The chilly atmosphere of the 
 room roused him. He shivered and looked up at the clock, 
 noticing the hour with a vague wonder at his abstraction. 
 The window was slightly open, and a cold breath of air stole 
 into the room and rustled the loose sheets of Esther's
 
 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. Ifi.S 
 
 manuscript, which still Ifty strewed about the table as he 
 had tossed them from him in the excitonfent of reading, and 
 he gathered them reverently together. His lips trembled 
 as his glance rested on the words " When this reaches your 
 hand the grave will have hidden all the faults and follies of 
 your loving wife, Esther." All the bitterness the thought 
 that she was dead could bring, he had felt as he paced all 
 night about his room ; but he sighed again as he read the 
 words, and raised the paper to his lips and kissed it. 
 
 In his agitation he had not noticed it before, but it now 
 occurred to him that there had beeimoaddrcss given in either 
 letter or diary. He looked hurriedly through the leaves 
 again, and not finding what he wanted, laid them by, and 
 took up the wrapper in which tire packet had been enclosed. 
 It bore the New Plymouth post-mark. And, as he raised 
 his eyes, lie looked out to where, in the dim morning light 
 he could see the masts of his yacht cutting the sky in two 
 dark filmy lines. 
 
 " At least, I will see where they have laid her," ho said 
 to himself. And then he put the manuscript away in his 
 drawer and locked it. 
 
 In former days he would simply have gone on board, 
 and set sail ; but times wore alt<>ved now. His father, 
 who had been the founder of the firm and its moving 
 spirit for many a long year, was no more. lie had died 
 three years ago, and his place had been taken by his 
 brother. Matthew had succeeded to an interest in the 
 business as junior partner, but it was only within the last 
 few months that he had settled down to work, and really 
 taken upon himself the responsibilities of the position ; and 
 never did those responsibilities thrust themselves upon him 
 as they did to-day. It was evening before he was free to 
 make his preparations for sailing, and it was morning again 
 before the J/ey Mcrrilies finally stood out to sea, and left 
 the Fijian coast dwindling in the distance astern.
 
 1G4 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " MlSS WlNTERSON." 
 
 " Matthew ! " Miss Dorothy Ann was about to enter 
 at her gate, but she let it close again with a snap as she 
 gave Redmayne her hand ; and there was a glance of keen 
 scrutiny in her eyes as she looked up in his face. 
 
 "You did not expect me?" lie said, with an air of 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " I did not know what to think," said Miss Dorothy 
 Ann, with an appearance of even greater embarrassment 
 on her- side, and looking rather doubtfully in his face. " 1 
 was not even sure that you knew she was with me, or 
 whether you knew where we were." 
 
 " I knew she was with you, and though she made no 
 mention of her whereabouts in her letter, I found out by 
 the post-mark where you were. I knew that though her 
 husband had failed to do his duty, you had more than done 
 yours," he added, his voice trembling under his sense of 
 gratitude ; " and that you had taken her under your 
 protection in spite of all the world might say 
 
 " Nonsense, Matthew ! Don't come talking sentiment 
 to an old woman like me," said the old lady, reassured by 
 his tone. " As for suspecting her -why, it is nonsense 
 blaming yourself at this time of day ; not being inspired 
 you couldn't do anything else, as things fell out, as far as 
 I can see. / should have done the same if she hadn't told 
 me herself they were wrong," she added, simply. 
 
 " Did you never wonder that she did not give me the 
 same assurance as she did you, and that we never saw one 
 another after ? " 
 
 " A simple assurance of innocence," said Miss Dorothy 
 Ann, shrewdly, and in a tone bordering on reproof, " you 
 would not have believed, Matthew. I've known you from 
 a boy, you know. You always were so pelf-willed. Why 
 she did not send the packet before or, indeed, what was
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 105 
 
 in it when she did send it, I am not quite sure ; but I 
 trust it has let you understand the truth 
 
 " It has cleared up everything everything," he said, 
 looking up quickly. 
 
 " Thank God for that," said Miss Dorothy Ann, earnestly, 
 and taking Redmayne's hand again in both of hers. " Thank 
 God that things have come right at last. Oh, the sad, sad 
 time it must have been for you ; I know what it was for 
 her." 
 
 " I know it comes with a bad grace from mo to thank 
 you for all you have done for her, Miss Winterson, seeing 
 how ready I was to believe in her guilt and desert her at 
 the first breath of suspicion; but believe me I do thank 
 you 
 
 "There, there," said Miss Dorothy Ann, waving off any 
 more thanks with her hands, " you have nothing to thank 
 me for, Matthew, nor has she. Wo had been the best of 
 friends before that terrible trial, why should we not be 
 afterwards, for, as I say, she told me she was innocent. 
 She did not tell me all her story mind you till just 
 before her last illness ; but she told me she was innocent, 
 and that was enough. We just fell back into the old 
 positions we held when we first came to know one another ; 
 and though I knew she was never happy, she kept up a 
 bravo heart under it all, and we both did what we could. 
 Ah ! Mat, Mat, my poor fellow," said Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 patting him on the shoulder maternally, "there is only one 
 recompense I could wish for, and that is to see you happy 
 once more." 
 
 " Me happy ! There is not a more impossible thing 
 under heaven than that, Miss Winterson," he said, sadly. 
 " Ah, what a fool I've been ! If I had only known the 
 story that diary contained before ; if I bad only had a hint 
 of the truth, how different both our lives might have been. 
 And now 
 
 " And now," said Miss Dorothy Ann, cheerfully, " there's 
 all the future before you."
 
 166 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " There is all the Past before me, Miss Winterson, with 
 all the reproach and torture it will bring ; but whatever it 
 may be, I deserve it. Miss Winterson," he said, his voice 
 faltering, and his eyes moist, " you have had her near you 
 for years ; you've read her character from day to day, as I 
 have had it laid open to me in the diary she sent me. I 
 have read her love for me there in language in which a 
 woman only speaks to her own heart, and which makes 
 that love doubly precious to me, and my madness to doubt 
 her the more insupportable to think of. I know now, in 
 some degree, what she must have suffered through my 
 unworthy suspicion of her these last three years. While I 
 have been looking upon myself as a wronged and injured 
 man, and trying to execrate her very name as the cause of 
 it, all the wrong and injury have been hers. She would 
 have given her life for my sake, and I I made hers 
 miserable by suspicion and neglect." 
 
 " Well, well, Matthew," said Miss Dorothy Ann, with 
 practical philosophy that jarred upon him almost painfully, 
 and patting him on the shoulder again, "it's all over now, and 
 it's no use crying over spilt milk. Of course it looks foolish, 
 now we know the truth, not to have seen it at once. But 
 as for that, you know she would be the first to forgive you 
 if there was anything to forgive, and forget all about it." 
 
 " Yes, I know only too well how ready she was to 
 forgive and to sacrifice herself ; and it is that that adds 
 tenfold to the bitterness of what I feel when I know that 
 the explanation she has given has come too late for her 
 happiness and mine too late to make amends for the past." 
 
 " How too late ? " said the old lady, with a look of 
 vague apprehension, and with what seemed to Redmayne an 
 unchai-acteristic want of feeling in her manner. " What 
 has happened ? " 
 
 "What has happened! Can you ask 1 ?" he said, re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 "Yes, I really do; ] don't understand you," she said, 
 the look of apprehension deepening on her face.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 107 
 
 "You must surely know what I have come for," he said, 
 sadly. 
 
 " I supposed I had hoped to see Esther," faltered 
 Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 " To see her grave, rather." 
 
 "Her grave!" cried Miss Dorothy Ann, starting, and 
 looking at him in hopeless bewilderment. 
 
 " Do not think to spare me by hiding the truth, Miss 
 Winterson. I know the worst. I know she is dead, and 
 that I shall never see my darling again." 
 
 " Dead ! " cried Miss Dorothy Ann again, grasping the 
 top of the picket fence as if she were in danger of falling to 
 the ground from sheer amazement. "Never see her again!" 
 
 " There is some terrible mistake, surely. Is she not dead ? " 
 
 " Is who not dead ? " 
 
 " Esther my wife ! " 
 
 There was a sound from the direction of the house of a 
 door being opened and closed, and then of light footsteps 
 approaching along the gravel walk. 
 
 " Esther dead ! Whoever heard of such a thing ] Why, 
 bless the man, no ! Use your eyes," said Miss Dorothy Ann. 
 
 A vision in white suddenly revealed itself from the other 
 side of the garden hedge, and then stopped abruptly as if 
 turned into stone. 
 
 Redmayne took a step towards the vision in white, and 
 then stopped abruptly as if also turned into stone. 
 
 " Matthew ! " cried the vision in white, thinking it was 
 being imposed on by another vision. 
 
 " Esther ! " cried Matthew, thinking it was indeed 
 nothing but a vision. 
 
 But each was too completely overcome by amazement to 
 move a stop towards the other. 
 
 " Well, it isn't often <>ne has to inl roduee husband and 
 wife to one another," said Miss Dorothy Ann, in exceeding 
 good spirits, but still lost in bewilderment at what was 
 going on or rather, perhaps, at what was nut going on 
 " but here's a wife writes and explains everything to her
 
 168 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 husband's and everybody else's satisfaction, and tben can't 
 believe her eyes when he comes himself in answer to it ; 
 and here's a husband who makes a personal visit in answer 
 to his wife's letter, expresses a wish to see her grave, and 
 can't believe his own eyes when he finds she's not dead. 
 Upon my word, I'll have to make you known to one 
 another. Mr. Redmayne, your wife, Mrs. Esther Red- 
 mayne ; Mrs. Redmayne, your husband, Mr. Matthew 
 Redmayne. Ah, now you're acting more like sane people," 
 for Esther, having fo;md that Redmayne was not a vision, 
 and Redmayne, having found that the vision in white was 
 actually his wife in the flesh, an interesting and incoherent 
 little scene was going on in the friendly shelter of the hedge, 
 which made the presence of a third person unnecessary, and 
 Miss Dorothy Ann went inside accordingly. 
 
 Suddenly, Redmayne woke up 
 
 to the fact that his wife hung like lead upon his arm, and 
 that her eyes were filled with tears. 
 
 " What, crying, my darling ! Why, what is it, Ettie ? 
 Tell me." 
 
 She struggled free from him, and, throwing herself on 
 a garden seat, hid her face in her hands and wept bitterly 
 not tears of joy at their meeting, but bitter tears of 
 shame and sorrow. 
 
 " Ettie, my darling, tell me what has happened. I cannot 
 bear to see you weep like this," he said, seating himself 
 beside her, and taking one of her hands in his. 
 
 " I have forgotten myself we should not have seen one 
 another you should not have come," she sobbed. 
 
 " I have forgotten myself, Kttie," he said gravely, "and 
 1 have come to make what atonement I can for the past. 
 Say at least that you forgive me." 
 
 " Forgive ! You ask me, to forgive you! Oh, Matthew, 
 do not add to my grief and shame by saying that. Do not 
 make me scorn myself more bitterly than I do now for the 
 ruin I have worked in your life." 
 
 ''But, my dear Ettie, 1 do say that. Up till a few days
 
 MATTHEW UEDMAYNE. 1(19 
 
 ago no one believed that vile suspicion against you more 
 fully than I did. Until I learnt the truth until your 
 packet carne 
 
 " My packet what packet 1 " 
 
 " Your diary that you sent 
 
 " I sent no diary." 
 
 " You did, my dear ; and it has brought me back to you 
 with deeper love than ever I have felt before, and to try 
 and give you the happiness in the future we have both been 
 robbed of in the past." 
 
 " But I sent no diary. I have not the slightest remem- 
 brance of it," said Esther, rising from her seat and looking 
 down at him in perplexity. " it it is not my diary is 
 in my room now." 
 
 " It came to hand, I assure you ; and now I think of it, 
 Miss Winterson mentioned it only a few minutes ago," 
 said Redmayne, feeling the mystery thickening around 
 him. 
 
 She stood for a minute or two thinking, her brows drawn 
 together, and one hand, which lledmayne noticed looked 
 very thin and white, as if after a long illness, resting on 
 the back of the seat, her face flushing and paling alternately. 
 
 " Let us go in, Matthew," she said presently, without 
 looking at him, and Redmayne, wondering in masculine 
 bewilderment at the change that had come over her since 
 their first greeting, drew her arm within his and they 
 went into the house together. Miss Winterson met them 
 at the door of the drawing-room, and Esther left them to 
 go to her room. In a few minutes she returned, and look- 
 ing into the drawing-room saw that Hedmayne was alone. 
 He was looking at something on the mantelpiece, and had 
 his back turned towards her. She went up to him with a 
 certain feverish decision, and placing her hand upon his 
 shoulder, said sadly 
 
 " Matthew, dear Matthew, I am doomed to ruin your 
 life." 
 
 He had a shell in his hand, and as 1m turned his head
 
 170 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 and saw the expression on her face, the shell slipped from 
 his fingers and shattered itself against the fender. 
 
 At the same moment Miss Dorothy Ann re-entered the 
 room, and Esther turned to her and said 
 
 " While I was ill, Miss Winterson, was there anything I 
 did that was that you thought unusual, or did not under- 
 stand 1 while I was delirious, I mean. I have been ill, 
 you know, Matthew," she said to him, " but I am better 
 again now." 
 
 "No, my dear, nothing that I can remember," said Miss 
 Dorothy Ann, turning a housewifely eye upon the fractured 
 pieces of her shell, as they lay upon the floor. 
 
 " The packet that Matthew received," said Esther, hesi- 
 tatingly, as if confused by some vague recollection which 
 she could not fix in her mind " it is not in my drawer ; 
 could it have been sent away then 1 " 
 
 " Yes, my dear, you sent it away yourself." 
 
 "II" 
 
 " Yes ; one night you had been asleep, and suddenly 
 woke up and asked me to bring you the packet I woitld 
 find in one of the drawers in your room. I brought it 
 and you addressed it, and I had it posted for you in the 
 morning." 
 
 " And and was 1 quite sensible at the time ^ " 
 
 " You had not been a few hours before, and you were 
 not a few hours afterwards ; but you seemed quite sensible 
 then." 
 
 " Can you recollect what I said ^ " 
 
 " Not very clearly," said Miss Dorothy Ann slowly, 
 removing her gaze from her ruined ornament to Esther's 
 face, and putting on the tense look of one who is trying to 
 recall a half -forgot ten scene to memory. " There vras one 
 thing, though ; I asked whether I should not write a note 
 to go with it, explaining under what circumstances it was 
 sent ; but you would not hoar of it, and begged me to send 
 it just as it was, saying all that required explaining would 
 be found explained in the packet. 1 did not think it was
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 171 
 
 wise, but I saw that the subject disti-essed you, and did not 
 refer to it again." 
 
 " And did I never refer to it afterwards myself? " 
 
 " No, my dear ; never ! Nor did I for the reason I have 
 already given." 
 
 " I can't recollect it at all," said Esther, in a troubled 
 voice, looking down at the floor, and twisting her hand- 
 kerchief about in her hands. "It is very strange." 
 
 "I hope it is nothing you regret, dear," said Miss 
 Dorothy Ann, with a puzzled look from one to the other, 
 and a return of the apprehension she had felt while talking 
 to Redmayne by the gate. 
 
 " Oh no, nothing, Miss Winterson, only only it was 
 strange it should have happened." She looked appoalingly 
 at Redmayne, and Miss Dorothy Ann, noticing the look, 
 and guessing there were mutual explanations to be made, 
 left them together again. 
 
 "Forgive me for causing you this new distress, Matthew," 
 said Esther, speaking in a dry, constrained, steady voice, 
 and gazing straight before her in an effort to preserve her 
 self-possession. " You see how it arose. I had not 
 intended that it should reach your hand till I was dead ; 
 but fortune has ordered otherwise. I had been often 
 thinking about what 1 had written just before I fell ill. 
 There was something I had intended to add to it ; and in 
 my delirium I must have done what 1 would never have 
 permitted myself to do if I had been in my right mind. 
 I have been away for the last day or two since I got well 
 again, at a friend of Miss Winterson's ; but even if I had 
 been at home I should never have found out that 1 had sent 
 the packet away, for it has been laid aside in a drawer by 
 itself a drawer I have not opened for months." 
 
 " And you are quite well again now ? You don't look 
 strong," he said, looking down at her pale face. 
 
 " C^uite well again now/' she said, as if she had scarcely 
 heard him. " Oh, Matthew, I do so wish this had not 
 happened."
 
 172 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "But what is there to regret, my love 1 ? Had your 
 intention of keeping your narrative by you till you were 
 dead been permitted to be carried out and I thank God 
 it was not it would have meant a life of misery and 
 wretchedness for both of us. As it is, your actions have 
 been over-ruled by a wise Providence, and we have been 
 brought together again." 
 
 " Yes," she said, tearfully, and still twisting her hand- 
 kerchief about, " we have been brought together, but only 
 to part again." 
 
 ; ' My dear girl, what are you saying ] " cried Kedmayne, 
 reproachfully, and looking at her as if she was not altogether 
 free from delirium even yet. " After all we have gone 
 through, can you find it in your heart to regret doing that 
 which has cleared away the clouds that were between us, 
 and shown us the truth about one another ? " 
 
 " No, Matthew, Heaven knows I do not ; but I do regret 
 doing what must give us the pain of a second parting. Do 
 not make my task harder, or ourselves more miserable by 
 reproaches or arguments, Matthew," she went on, pushing 
 her hair from her forehead and speaking very rapidly, as if 
 she doubted her own resolution, and feared it would fail 
 her. " It must be we must part. Let us get it over as 
 soon as we can. I am glad, Matthew very, very glad 
 that you have had your suspicions removed ; but I can 
 only repeat now what you have already read in my 
 confession. Let us let us say good-bye, and go our 
 different ways and and forget one another," she said, with 
 a sob. 
 
 Kedmayne looked at her with the most intense surprise. 
 
 " Esther, my dear girl," he said, slowly, and with a 
 return of his old stubbornness, " this is mere mid-summer 
 madness. I haven't the slightest intention of going away 
 till you go with me. I left you on shore the first 
 time, and lost you; I took you with me in the yacht the 
 second time, and lost you again ; I find you for the third 
 time, and you try to slip through my fingers once more. In
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 173 
 
 all seriousness, my love, what are you thinking of, and what 
 do you think I'm made of 1 " 
 
 She waited with nervous impatience, and broke in almost 
 before ho had finished speaking 
 
 " Matthew, you have not thought in what position you 
 and I stand to one another ; I have. It is no use closing 
 our eyes to things, and telling ourselves they don't exist. 
 We can't live our lives over again ; we can't recall the 
 past ; we must just abide by it. Oh, my love, my love," 
 she said, bursting into tears, and all the resolution that 
 had supported her thus far deserting her. " I wish I wish 
 I were dead rather than I should give you one fresh 
 distress. I have caused you so much so much sorrow. It 
 breaks my heart to know I must cause you still more." 
 
 " Cheer up, my love," he said, taking her in his arms 
 and kissing her tenderly. " Try and think of the past as 
 lightly as I do though I know how much harder it must 
 have been for you than for me." 
 
 " No ! no ! Hear what I have to say," she said, removing 
 his arms gently and resuming her former tone. " I must 
 bo true to myself, and true to you for your own sake. Let 
 us go back to the time of the trial. You remember all that 
 passed, and pardon me for saying it, Matthew : I must 
 you believed me guilty." 
 
 " Forgive me, darling. I did." 
 
 " I know you loved me then, Matthew," she went on, 
 interrupting him, for she felt that her woman's fortitude 
 would fail her again if she let him say more, " and if you 
 who loved me and know me so well were forced to suspect 
 me in spite of yourself, what must the world think ? " 
 
 "That for the world," he said, snapping his fingers airily. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; it's all very well to snap your fingers ; but I 
 cannot for your sake and my own look at it in that way, 
 Matthew. I I burn when I think what the papers said 
 about me. Beyond yourself and Miss Winterson there is 
 not a man or woman who has heard of the case who does 
 not believe me a guilty woman. I would sooner die than
 
 174 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 let you bring the reproach upon yourself of having it said 
 that you were united to one everybody believes to be a a 
 murderess." 
 
 " Esther," he said, knitting his brows heavily, " I will 
 not listen to you I will not hear you speak like that. 
 You are my wife. / know the truth, and I swear the 
 world shall know the truth as I know it. I will have 
 justice done. I will make the facts known from one end 
 of the land to the other." 
 
 She held up her hand imploringly to stop him, and then 
 pressed it over her heart as if in pain. 
 
 " Neither of us has anything to prove the truth, Matthew. 
 You know what I have said is true; Miss Winterson knows 
 it is true ; but who else is there but would look at it 
 as a plausible falsehood 1 Matthew, dear, dear Matthew, 
 let us face the truth at once. I I had trusted that this 
 scene would never have happened. I thought our last 
 parting was over three years ago. I would never have 
 written what I did if I had thought if I had thought 
 Oh, Matthew!" she cried, wringing her hands, "think as 
 I do. Realize that it is impossible. We can never be man 
 and wife but in name. We must not see one another again. 
 Let it be as if you had never learned the truth and and 
 leave me. I cannot bear it." 
 
 " Esther," he said, with suppressed passionateness, " for 
 three years I have looked iipon you as you say the world 
 looks upon you now. My life was aimless, objectless, 
 miserable, for want of your love. I have been pressed 
 forgive me saying this ; but I am pleading for what is more 
 to me than my life itself I have been pressed by those 
 who were as blind as I was to the truth about Stadding's 
 murder, to get to to free myself in the one way in which 
 I could obtain freedom 
 
 "I am prepared to hear all you have to say, dear 
 Matthew," she said humbly. " This is no time for affect- 
 ation between us. You have been urged to get a divorce 
 from me. I know. Go on."
 
 MATTHEW HEDMAYXE. 175 
 
 " I refused to do it. I said ' No ; let it rest. There is 
 only one wouiau in the world to me. If she can only be 
 my wife in name, so be it. No other shall bo my wife in 
 ravlity.' At the end of those three years my eyes are 
 opened to the truth. I find that my wife is the noblest 
 and purest woman that ever breathed. I come and offer 
 again the love you accepted before things happened to 
 separate us, and you throw me oil' like this. It is unjust ; 
 it is cruel. I have not deserved it." 
 
 " But, Matthew," she pleaded, piteously, " try and see it 
 from my side too. I know how hard it is on you on us 
 both. 1 know you may think it unjust and cruel." 
 
 " It is cruel. It's unreasonable." 
 
 "Matthew, do not do not be so hard with me. I have 
 not sought this interview. It is as painful to me as it can 
 be to you. I am not very strong," she said, passing her 
 thin, shaking hand across her eyes. " I am not able to 
 argue. I have suffered much, and tried to suffer in silence. 
 If my voice has reached you, it is not my fault. It is not 
 for my own sake I am speaking. 1 have done much, I 
 know, to ruin your life, and I will do no more. I have 
 made up my mind to be truer to you than you would be to 
 yourself. I feel I should ruin it altogether if 1 consented 
 to your wishes." 
 
 " Forgive me, Ettie, if I have seemed hard. I did not 
 moan to be. If I spoke strongly, it was because I love 
 strongly ah ! you don't know how strongly. You do not 
 know what you are asking me to give up when you ask mo 
 to give YOU up." 
 
 " But it must be, Matthew ; it must be." 
 
 "No, Ksther, it must not lie. L will not have it so. We 
 have suffered enough you and I for faults that are not 
 our own. We have our own rights to consider. You 
 forget that you are my wife. And 1 refuse to let any one 
 come between us. Who was this contemptible wretch, 
 Stadding, that the results of what he has done should be 
 allowed to part us like this 1 "
 
 176 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " It is not Stadding," she said, sadly, but still clinging 
 to her point. " It is for my sister's sake, and for yours, 
 and my own. I have been through the ordeal once. I 
 could not face it again ; and to do what you require would 
 set the country ringing with the story afresh." 
 
 " But am I not to be considered ? Is my happiness a 
 shuttlecock, to be bandied hither and thither at mere 
 caprice like this? If the story is to be known, let it. Let 
 guilty be guilty, and the innocent be innocent. Why 
 should those who have not done the wrong bear the con- 
 sequences?" He was thinking only of Stadding; she 
 thought only of Catherine. 
 
 " But consider it would be to take the guilt from my 
 shoulders to put it upon those of my poor sister, and make 
 her sad story the gossip of the whole country." 
 
 He was about to answer, but checked himself and bit his 
 lip in silence. 
 
 " Is that your final an- 
 swer, Esther 1 " he asked quietly at last. 
 
 "Yes, Matthew; I cannot do otherwise. Let us part. 
 Why prolong this interview ? It can do no good, and is 
 painful to us both. Believe me, dear, it pains me to the 
 heart to act as I am doing ; but when you have grown 
 happier and forgotten me you will acknowledge to yourself 
 that the kindest act I ever did, and my truest love for you 
 was shown when I refused to link my disgrace with your 
 honest name." 
 
 " No, my dear, you are wrong. I will not permit you to 
 ruin your own life and mine like this. You shall not bear 
 a guilt that is not your own. There is only one way, and 
 that is for me to find out the truth more fully, and to make 
 that truth known. Do not think me hard upon you, my 
 love. I am not. I am only preventing you committing 
 an injustice upon yourself and upon others." 
 
 " No, no, Matthew ; give it up. Learn to forget me ; I 
 am not worthy. Let me drop out of your life. Spare me 
 spare those I love from fresh distress '
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 177 
 
 "Those you love 1 ? And what of me, Esther; am I not 
 one of those you love 1 " he asked, reproachfully. 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears, and her face flushed crimson. 
 
 " I do not know what I am saying. Heaven knows I do 
 love you, and desire nothing more keenly than your happi- 
 ness, and it is that I am trying to bring about." 
 
 "Good-bye, Ettie," ho said, holding out his hands as if 
 he had formed his final resolution. " Happiness and you 
 must come together." 
 
 She stood a moment struggling to control herself, and 
 then threw herself into his anus, and laid her head on his 
 breast. 
 
 "The last time, Matthew dear the last time," she 
 whispered. 
 
 " No, my love," he answered, as he bent over her, " not 
 the last time. When I come to you again as I have to-day, 
 you shall stand as pure in the eyes of the world as you do 
 in mine. Till then, good-bye." 
 
 " Dear Matthew," she said, throwing her arms round his 
 neck in a last appeal, "do not try to seek the truth any 
 further ; let it rest for poor Catherine's sake for mine." 
 
 " For yours and mine, Ettie," ho said, gently and firmly, 
 gazing back into her eyes, "1 cannot. I owe it to yon. 1 
 owe it to myself. Till then, good-bye." 
 
 He lifted her up and placed her upon the sofa. Jlis lips 
 were pressed passionately to hers for a moment, and (hen 
 lie left the room. 
 
 She started up with a, halt' formed intention of recalling 
 him, uttered his name, and then stood still irresolutely. 
 The door was swinging to : it wavered a moment as she 
 called to him, and then closed. Footsteps passed down the 
 passage, and she was alone. She hesitated whether to try 
 and overtake him IK- fore he left the house ; took a step 
 towards the door with that intention, and then paused 
 again ; and as she paused the door was re-opened, and Miss 
 Dorothy Ann entered. 
 
 ' My dear, you have excited yourself, she said, kindly.
 
 178 MATTHEW REDMAYNK. 
 
 putting her arm round her, and leading her to the sofa, 
 from which she had just started up. " This has been too 
 much for you so soon after your illness." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Winterson, has he gone 1 " she said, almost 
 hysterically. " I have so much to tell him that I left 
 unsaid, and perhaps I may never have another opportunity." 
 
 "Yes, Ettie, he has gone," said Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 looking at her companion in a grave, motherly way. " He 
 met me in the passage, and asked me to come to you. But 
 do not distress yourself ; you will see him again soon, and 
 you can tell him. then, when you are calmer, and more 
 yourself than you are now, what he has not heard. Do 
 you think, my dear," she went on, stroking Esther's hair 
 back from her forehead, "that you have acted quite wisely 
 in what you have done to-day 1 ?" 
 
 " Did he did he tell you ? " asked Esther, timidly. 
 
 " He only dropped a word ; but I can tell from what I 
 saw on his face, and what I see on yours, what the result 
 of your interview has been. I am afraid that all this has 
 come upon us so unexpectedly that none of us have acted as 
 we should have done, if we had had time to form a second 
 thought on the subject. And what a strange thing that 
 he should come here with his mind quite made up that you 
 were dead. How was that? " 
 
 " It was the letter I sent with the diary. 1 had not 
 intended that it should reach him till after my death, and 
 I had worded the letter accordingly. I always intended 
 he should know the truth at last, and 1 had it all written 
 out early last October. It had lain in my drawer, along 
 with little Pure-in-Heart's book, ever since; but after 
 Catherine became well enoiigh to leave the asylum, and 
 live with us, I had intended adding a few words, telling 
 him of it. .But I could never persuade myself to look at it 
 again. I wanted to forget that part of my life ; and I 
 kept putting it olf, and putting it off, till my illness came 
 on and prevented me altogether. Was it not strange ? " 
 
 " You speak as if you regretted it, my dear, which I
 
 MATT1IKNV Ui:i)MAYXK. 179 
 
 assure you I am very far from doing. And as for ' strange ' 
 why, I'm only a superstitious old woman, of course, but 
 it seems very much like a Providential interference in my 
 eyes, and I think you did a wiser thing when you were 
 out of your miud than you have just done in send ing 
 him away, now you are in it. Seriously, my dear, you 
 must re-consider what you have done to-day. I can't see 
 you wreck your own life, and Matthew's, from from- 
 
 " No, no, Miss Winterson," interposed Esther, quickly, 
 divining what was coming, '' not caprice don't say caprice. 
 It is not, indeed." 
 
 " Well," said the old lady, shaking her head severely, 
 " caprice was the word I was going to use. I don't know 
 where you draw the line, it looks dangerously like caprice 
 to me, and I'm sure it must have looked dangerously like it 
 to him, and I am not going to look on and see his life 
 spoiled for want of a word. You must remember, Ettie, 
 that you are his wife, and that he looks at things in a 
 different way to you. You see ho never even saw your 
 sister, and it is rather hard on a man to ask him to give 
 up everything for the sake of a woman he has never 
 seen." 
 
 " But, Miss Wintersou," she pleaded, " just think for a 
 moment what it would mean. However quietly it might 
 be brought about, .our living together would be the talk of 
 the country in a day or two, and all the horrible old story 
 would be brought up again, and the truth, in our own 
 defence, would /tare to he told. It would not matter so 
 much if Catherine did not come to hear of it ; but look at 
 what it would mean for her. It is only lately that she has 
 been well enough to leave the asylum and be with us, and 
 you know her mind is still so weak and sensitive that even 
 ordinary every-day excitements have to be guarded against. 
 The very least reference to what she has gone through 
 would be more than she could stand ; if the bare, terrible 
 truth were dragged up before the public again, it would 
 cither kill her outright or make her ten times worse than
 
 180 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 she was before. No. God has been very good to us, and 
 I must learn to be content. Now poor Kate is getting 
 along so nicely, we must not run any risks." 
 
 "Well, I suppose we mustn't," said Miss Dorothy Ann, 
 reluctantly, taking out her watch, " and that reminds me 
 that Kate is n,ot back from her walk yet. Do you think it 
 is quite wise to let her go out by herself so much 1 " 
 
 " I think it is at least, for her. It gives her a greater 
 feeling of self-reliance and independence, and in this quiet 
 hum-drum spot there is no danger of any kind to fear. 
 Ah, Miss Winterson," she said, her eyes filling with tears, 
 as she reverted to the former subject, " it is hard you 
 don't know how hard -to give Matthew up ; but it is my 
 duty I am sure it is my duty and I have broken myself 
 into it these three years past. But you don't know no, 
 forgive me, I believe you do know the joy it is to see Kate 
 getting better and stronger every day. And, perhaps, who 
 knows, when she is quite well but no," she broke off 
 sadly, " you see, however morally innocent she may be, she 
 did do it, and the truth must never be known at least 
 by her. It is all over now, and we must let it rest for 
 ever." 
 
 "Well, well, my dear," sighed Miss Dorothy Ann, "I 
 had been picturing a brighter prospect for all of you than 
 that ; but I think you are right, and we must just trust 
 the future. And is that the reason you did not give 
 Matthew just now 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I told him everything but that everything but 
 that Kate was living with us." 
 
 " Don't look so heart-broken over it, child. You haven't 
 seen the last of him yet. lie will be here again before very 
 long, and you can tell him then." 
 
 " I don't know," said Ksther, doubtfully. "That's just 
 what I'm afraid of. He said that when he came to me 
 again I should stand as pure in the eyes of the world as I 
 did in his. Do you think lie means by that 
 
 " Oh, if that's what he says, it makes a difference. And
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 181 
 
 as for what he means by it he means, my dear, just 
 exactly what he says," said Miss Dorothy Ann, folding her 
 hands resignedly in her lap, with a general suggestion that 
 she was speaking of an earthquake. " I've known him, as 
 I've told you, from a boy, and you need ne-e-ever expect to 
 change his mind when he's once made it up. He is that 
 
 obstinate and self-willed " Miss Dorothy Ann searched 
 
 in vain for a simile, and went on : " Before a couple of 
 hours are over, he will have decided, quite to his own satis- 
 faction, and without consulting you or any one else, what 
 to do and where to go. But here is Kate back from her 
 walk at last," she said, as a tall, thin, pale woman, si ill 
 young, but with a face marked with trouble that had come 
 too early upon her, opened the gate and came slowly up the 
 garden path with a bouquet of wild flowers in each hand. 
 Esther rose from her seat, and went out to meet her, and 
 the two came on to the house together. 
 
 " Yours has been a strange story in the past," said Miss 
 Dorothy Ann to herself, as she watched them. " I wonder 
 what the future will have to show." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 # * * j: -i: * 
 
 "Tin: first thing I've got (o do," ^;uil Uedmayne to him- 
 self, as he paced about the deck of the Mfij Merrilies next 
 morning, as she stood away seaward under every stitch of 
 canvas, "is to sec those two women who kept that house on 
 the Happy Valley Road. T/t- ;/ know the truth, and if I 
 can only get it out of them the battle is half over though 
 it's ten chances to one if they are there now. Poor little 
 Ettie's diary the truth is there, but I couldn't use. t/tat 
 after what passed yesterday, even if everything else failed 
 me ; besides, as she said, it would never be credited, with 
 nothing but her own word to supj>ort it. Poor little Ettie.
 
 182 MATTHEW ItEDMAYNE. 
 
 I wonder what she is doing now 1 I wonder is she thinking 
 of me? "and he looked interrogatively into the blue sky 
 above him. " I wonder did I leave her like a brute yester- 
 day ? I was afraid to stay any longer for fear I should 
 make a fool of myself. If ever she does become my wife 
 in anything more than name I must keep my unlucky 
 temper more in hand. What a strange tale hers, and minu, 
 and her sister's is, to be sure. I wonder, now," he thought, 
 pausing to put a fair and square question at Space, with his 
 hands very deep in his pockets, and his legs very far apart, 
 for there was a swell on, and the Meg was rolling very 
 much. " I wonder if there ever was a man in such a 
 position as I am in at this moment 1 Here am I : for three 
 years I am convinced beyond a doubt that my wife is guilty 
 of the murder of this fellow Stadding. At the end of those 
 three years I find that I have been all at sea, and that so far 
 from being guilty of any wrong-doing she has performed 
 what seems to me a piece of quixotic self-sacrifice and 
 which is deuced hard on me, too and that she is dead. I 
 go to see her grave, and I find that I've been all at sea 
 again, and that she is alive after all ; and just as I am 
 building up my castles in the air, and promising myself all 
 the happiness I have been cheated of these three years 
 past, I find that I am all at sea for the third time, and that 
 what has kept us apart these three years is to keep us apart 
 still. Talk of a woman's will ; talk of a woman's caprici- 
 ousness ; talk of a woman's only being able to see a thing 
 from one point of view," ho said, mutely inviting Space to 
 follow him to the climax, " but this beats everything. Mow, 
 I sympathize with her sister a thorough rascal that fellow 
 Stadding, and deserved all he got, 1 say -but T can't 
 simply for her sake, a woman I have never seen in my life, 
 sit quietly down and allow my wife to make a sacrifice of 
 herself and me too. I wonder if she'll ever forgive me if I 
 do find out the truth and make it known 1 " anew aspect of 
 the question presenting itself. "Well, well, what's right's 
 right: and now I've begun it I'll go through with it,
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXF.. 183 
 
 whether it brings good luck or bad luck ; and it can't 
 bring worse luck than I've had, come what will." 
 
 Contrary winds wore blowing heavily up from the ocean, 
 and it was not till early on the morning of the second day 
 that the yacht entered port. Without losing an hour, 
 Kedmayne drove out to Happy Valley. He was met with 
 disappointment at the outset. The house he sought was no 
 longer there. He knew ho had come to the right spot, for 
 there, on the slope about him, stood the three pine trees 
 just as they had been described by Esther ; there was the 
 cart track leading up to where the house had been ; but 
 the house itself had disappeared. There was no place near 
 where he could make any inquiry, for the one or two 
 buildings he saw were mere decayed ruins. lie was 
 turning away again with the intention of returning to 
 Wellington, when the thought occurred to him that Sarah 
 Bundle was one who had given evidence at Esther's trial. 
 It was unlikely that he would gain any further information 
 beyond that which she had already given in Court. Still, in 
 a search such as that he was engaged in. it would be unwise 
 to throw away even that, slender chance. Besides, there 
 was his quaint little friend Pure in-Hoart, whom he had not 
 seen since his last visit to the cottage with Ksthor before 
 they were married. He sent the trap back to Wellington 
 by the lad he had brought with him, and struck into the 
 path along the coast by which Ksther had come on that fatal 
 day in June three years before, when the converging linos 
 of her sister's course in life and her own had met and crossed. 
 
 It had taken Esther little more than an hour to complete 
 the journey, but he walked so slowly, thinking of her and 
 the events of that day, and what had arisen out of those 
 events, that it took him more than two hours to roach 
 Mrs. Bundle's. . . . Time had worked its changes at 
 the cottage. Mrs. Bundle had aged greatly in the three 
 years since Redmayno had last soon her, and though she 
 recognized the name readily enough, her eyesight had
 
 184 MATTHEW REBMAYNE. 
 
 become so impaired that she had great difficulty in recog- 
 nizing Redmayne himself. Sarah, whom he had left a 
 mere girl, had developed into a tall young woman, with 
 some pretensions to good looks, and a still more marked 
 appearance of being aware of the fact. But greatest 
 change of all little Pure-in-Heart's chair, on which he had 
 so often seen the young invalid wheeling himself about 
 was standing disused in a corner. 
 
 " Ay, poor little fellow," said Mrs. Bundle, quietly, 
 noticing the direction of his glance. "We'll not see him 
 any more on this earth. He's bin dead now going on for 
 three year." 
 
 "I am very sorry to hear that," said Redmayne, sin- 
 cerely. " I can scarcely say it was the special object of my 
 visit to you to-day ; but I had looked forward to seeing 
 him again." 
 
 " Yes ; you were always a favourite of his. He spoke of 
 you near the last ; and his book you remember his book, 
 the dear little fellow he sent that to Esth to Mrs. to 
 your 
 
 " To my wife," said Redmayne, as Mrs. Bundle paused, 
 awkwardly. " Little Pure-in-Heart was wiser than we 
 were, Mrs. Bundle judging by his present : he believed in 
 her innocence." 
 
 " Ay, that he did to the last, and couldn't abear to hear 
 so much as a word to the coutrairy," said Mrs. Bundle, 
 looking up, curiously, at his tone, and with an uneasy 
 feeling that the conversation was approaching an awkward 
 subject, and that Redmayne was the last person in the 
 world she would care to discuss it with. 
 
 " And he was right," said Redmayne, with no appearance 
 of a wish to avoid the delicate point. " Of course you 
 know perfectly all that lias happened, Mrs. Bundle, and no 
 doubt you were deceived like everybody else, and believed 
 just the same as they did. I am happy to say that at this 
 minute there is not the shadow of a doubt in my mind as 
 to my wife's innocence."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 185 
 
 " You don't know hoto glad I am to hear you say 
 that," began Mrs. Bundle, heartily, when Sarah broke in, 
 eagerly 
 
 " Has she ever spoken of me? Will she ever forgive me 
 for the evidence I gave against her ? " 
 
 " There's no question of forgiving, Sarah ; you only did 
 your duty, and you could not have said less than you did. 
 It was for the purpose of gaining your assistance in estab- 
 lishing the truth, in fact, that I have come to see you 
 to-day." 
 
 " Only tell me how I can help, and I'll do it. I'd do 
 anything for Miss Esther Mrs. Iledmayne, I mean to 
 make up for what I've done." 
 
 " Very well, then, Sarah ; to begin with, tell me all that 
 happened on the night that Stadding was killed. Now I 
 think of it, how did you come to be living at Lowry Bay 
 at that time? You stayed first at Monk's Bridge, did 
 you not ? Was the house at the bay far from where the 
 body was found? " 
 
 "Not very; so near, I remember it frightened me 
 dreadfully, and kept me awake nights afterwards thinking 
 about it. Why we went to live there was because Mrs. 
 Amelia Llewellyn that was the young lady and her 
 husband used to quarrel so - 
 
 " What was your mistress's name 1 " asked Redmayne. 
 
 " The old lady, [ don't know what her name was she 
 was just Mrs. Llewellyn ; but the young one was named 
 Mrs. Amelia." 
 
 " ' I can think of no one else day or night. 
 
 My whole heart and affections are bound up in the two 
 words, Amelia LI - 
 
 These were the words contained in the letter which 
 Catherine had shown to Esther during their interview in 
 the old house on the Happy Valley Road. They were the 
 words that Hashed through Redmayne' g miinl the instant 
 he heard the name Amelia Llewellyn meittioned. Could 
 they refer to one and the same person ?
 
 18G MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Why did Mr. and Mrs. Llewellyn quarrel ?" he asked. 
 "Do you know?" 
 
 " For one thing, because she didn't like him, though he 
 was her husband, and because I think 
 
 " He suspected her of keeping up a correspondence with 
 some one else was that it 1 ?" asked Redmayne, quickly. 
 
 " Yes, I think so. He was very violent sometimes, and 
 both his wife and his mother were afraid of him, and they 
 were quite glad to get out of the house." 
 
 " So," thought Redmayne, " this is surely more than a 
 coincidence. Amelia Llewellyn must be the name of the 
 woman to whom Stadding wrote the letter that night. 
 
 This grows interesting." "Have you any idea as 
 
 to who the person was with whom young Mrs. Llewellyn 
 was suspected of corresponding 1 ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " You did not know Stadding, did you? " 
 
 "No, I never saw him, to my knowledge." 
 
 " Did you see any signs of a correspondence being kept 
 up by young Mrs. Llewellyn while you were at Lowry 
 Bay?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; more then even than before. Letters came 
 nearly every day, but they were always opened and read 
 by old Mrs. Llewellyn before they reached Mrs. Amelia, 
 and they were always in a lady's handwriting." 
 
 " Now, Sarah, I want you to be very careful in what 
 you say. Try and remember everything that passed about 
 the time of the murder as distinctly as you can. This may 
 be the first step to a more important discovery than we 
 think. We can't afford to overlook anything, even tho 
 smallest detail, with regard to Mrs. Amelia Llewellyn. 
 You say that the old lady opened and read all her daughter- 
 in-law's letters before giving them to her. Then things 
 must have gone so far that Mrs. Amelia must have been 
 almost a prisoner at Lowry Bay?" 
 
 " And so she was," said Sarah, her colour rising. "She 
 was treated shamefully. She never went out but what
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 187 
 
 Mrs. Llewellyn or me went with her if it was me I was 
 questioned and cross-questioned when I carne back as if I 
 was a spy, till I felt quite ashamed of myself. And I'm 
 pretty sure Llewellyn himself used to watch her too, some- 
 times. He used often to ride over from Monk's Bridge, 
 
 O ' 
 
 where he stayed with his groom and his horse, Scythe- 
 bearer, when we took the cottage at Lowry Bay. I 
 remember one day when we were out, Mrs. Amelia pointed 
 to a pile of rocks in one of those little gullies off the 
 Lowry Bay Road, and said, ' Do you know who's in there, 
 Sarah?" 'No, ma'am,' I said. 'Who is?' She gave a 
 toss of her heart, and an odd kind of laugh, and said, ' Who 
 is? Why, Llewellyn; that's who it is, Sarah. And do 
 you know what he's there for ? ' ' No, ma'am,' I said 
 again. ' I'll tell you,' she said. ' He's there for the same 
 purpose as you are sent out with me this morning to 
 watch me!' She threw her hands before her face and burst 
 out crying. ' Don't give way like that, ma'am,' I said ; 
 ' and I do hope you don't think ' No, no, Sarah,' she 
 
 said, still holding her hands before her face, and still 
 crying bitterly. ' I don't think you would do it. Don't 
 take any notice of me. Only I am so miserable. I haven't 
 a friend in all the world, Sarah not a friend in all the 
 world.' I didn't like to speak, because her temper was so 
 changeable sometimes for want of some one else to speak 
 to, she would make a confidante of me ; at other times, 
 one daren't so much as open one's mouth. But I was 
 sorry for her, and 1 said, ' If there's anything I could do, 
 ma'am She stopped me again, and said, ' No, no, 
 
 Sarah ; you're a good girl, but there's nothing you can do. 
 Let us go back now.' We went towards the house again, 
 and presently she stopped and looked back over her 
 shoulder towards the pile of rocks. The tears dried up 
 out of her eyes as if they had been scorched ; her cheeks 
 flushed up, and she laid her hand on my shoulder. ' See 
 there, Sarah!' she said, pointing with her finger. 'What 
 did I tell you ? Wasn't I right 1 ' And sure enough there 
 
 N
 
 188 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 was some one on horseback riding out from the gully on 
 to the road, but whether it was Llewellyn or not, it was 
 too far off for me to tell." 
 
 " Did you ever see Mrs. Amelia meet any one, and did 
 she seem to have no other correspondence than that which 
 passed through the old lady's hands'?" 
 
 " No. I think old Mrs. Llewellyn distrusted me, for often 
 at the last moment, just as we were setting out, she would 
 call me back and say she was not very well, and that she 
 thought a walk in the open air would do her good, and she 
 would go herself, or some other excuse. I thought then, 
 and I think now, that it was nothing more than an excuse. 
 She thought we might have made some arrangement 
 between ourselves, and that by taking us by surprise like 
 that she would find out what it was. As for meeting or 
 seeing any one while I was with her, I am quite positive 
 she didn't. She never even seemed to care to go in any 
 one direction more than another, and nearly always left it 
 to me to say where our walk should take us." 
 
 " Strange," said Redinayne. " It seems to me that she 
 must have had some way of corresponding, and her 
 husband and her mother-in-law evidently had reasons for 
 suspicion, too. Was there no one else about the place she 
 might have employed ? " 
 
 "No one. There was nobody but the three of us at the 
 house from week's end to week's end." 
 
 " Well, then, did she seem to attach more than ordinary 
 importance to the letters you know she did receive 1 ?" 
 
 " Considering they were only from another girl," said 
 Sarah, with a somewhat conscious smile, "/ thought she 
 did; and if she didn't get one when she expected, there was 
 more questions than enough about it. Was I quite sure the 
 farm-boy had called at the post-office] (there was no regular 
 delivery of letters out there, you know) and was I quite 
 sure old Mrs. Llewellyn had not kept the letter from her 1 ? 
 and goodness knows she got enough letters as it was. But 
 what struck me as the strangest thing about it was that
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 189 
 
 she scarcely looked at the letter when it was given to her. 
 She was all impatience till it was put in her hand, and 
 then all interest in it seemed to leave her, and she would 
 toss it aside with barely a glance through it." 
 
 " But how do you know they were all from some other 
 lady 1 ? And did old Mrs. Llewellyn always read her daughter- 
 in-law's letters? it seems a strange arrangement." 
 
 " Every one," said Sarah, answering the last question 
 first, " from the day we went to Lowry Bay to the day 
 we left it, there wasn't a letter that reached Mrs. Amelia's 
 hands that the old lady hadn't read first. She wouldn't 
 even let me take them in at the door, but took them from 
 the farm-boy, or whoever brought them, herself, went to 
 her room close by, and opened them and read them. When 
 she had finished she would give them to me to take to 
 Mrs. Amelia ; she never used to take them in herself. 
 The first time, I remember, she sent the letter without the 
 envelope, and Mrs. Amelia went back with it herself. 
 There was high words between them, and as Mrs. Amelia 
 came out of the room where the old lady was, I heard 
 her say ' I shall not submit to it. For the future, if 
 you do take advantage of your position to read my letters 
 yourself, you will at least have the decency to send them 
 to me in the envelope, so that the servant may not have 
 the same opportunity, too. It is disgraceful.' (Not that 
 I would ever have thought for a moment of doing such a 
 thing as read another person's letter," said Sarali in careful 
 parenthesis.) " I never saw Mrs. Amelia so much out of 
 temper before, for, generally, she was more than half afraid 
 of the old lady, who was a Frenchwoman, and had a good 
 deal of her son's temper at times, especially if she had only 
 another woman to deal with. I know the letters were 
 written by a Lady, because, for all the fuss she made, Mrs. 
 Amelia seemed to care very little whether I saw her letters 
 or not, when once they were given to her in the way she 
 wanted them; and I nearly always saw enough of them, 
 as they lay on her table, to see they were in a lady's hand.
 
 190 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Besides, old Mrs. Llewellyn had poor eyesight, and was 
 sometimes not able to make out what it was she was 
 reading ; and she would fold the letter with that part out- 
 wards, and ask me to make it out for her which I know 
 it was not right for her to do when it was not her own 
 letter; but she did it all the same partly, I do believe, 
 to spite Mrs. Amelia for what she said that time. But 
 that wasn't all. After Mrs. Amelia had read the letters 
 she always handed them back to the old lady again, just 
 as she got them, and the old lady used to put them away 
 in her drawer." 
 
 " And what became of them after all 1 " 
 
 " They were burnt I burnt them. There was almost a 
 quarter of a drawer full of them. It was on the same day 
 as the murder took place in the morning. Old Mrs. 
 Llewellyn took out what papers she wanted, and then told 
 me to burn all the rest that was in the drawer before she 
 came back from her walk. It was one of the days when 
 she had taken it into her head to go out with Mrs. Amelia." 
 
 "That would have been a tine haul for Pure-in-Heart," 
 said Redmayne, smiling, and the next instant regretting 
 his thoughtlessness. 
 
 "Yes," said Sarah, sadly, "and he got them, too. I To 
 made me promise before I went to Mrs. Llewellyn's to send 
 him all the stamps, and I cut them out before putting the 
 letters in the fire, and send them to him." 
 
 "And the portions of the letters you read for Mrs. 
 Llewellyn do you remember what they contained?" 
 
 " Only just the ordinary news what you would expect 
 one lady to write to another." 
 
 " Not, at any rate, what a gentleman would write to one 
 he was in love with 1 " 
 
 "No," said Sarah, with a decided shake of her head. 
 " I'm quite sure it wasn't." 
 
 " But the letters Mrs. Amelia sent in reply you would 
 see some of them ; can you not recollect to whom they 
 were addressed I "
 
 MATTHEW KEDMA.YNE. 191 
 
 Sarah shook her head again. " No ; I am quite sure it 
 was a huly's name ; but what the name was I can't 
 remember." 
 
 " H'mph," said Redmayne, disappointedly. " But you 
 haven't told me yet all that happened on the day of the 
 murder. What effect did it have on Mrs. Amelia?" 
 
 "She fainted dead off as soon as she heard of it, and 
 when she came to again she was wandering in her mind, 
 and Mrs. Llewellyn wouldn't let me go near her, but 
 attended to her herself, and sent me into the kitchen out 
 of the way, and told me she would call me whenever she 
 wanted me. She didn't want mo to hear what Mrs. 
 Amelia was saying, it's my opinion," said Sarah, nodding 
 her head mysteriously. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 SARAH paused a moment or t\vo, as if she were trying to 
 call the circumstances more clearly to memory, and then 
 went on 
 
 " Old Mrs. Llewellyn must have been with Mrs. Amelia, 
 for, I should say, not less than two hours altogether, and 
 never called for me once which 1 thought at the time 
 was strange, for as a general thing she was not one to take 
 more trouble than she could help; and besides that, up to 
 now she had never seemed any too fond of her daughter-in- 
 law. She was all in a fluster, and was in the room, and 
 out of the room, and pattered about the place in her 
 wrapper and slippers, now for hot water, now for cold, now 
 for sal-volatile, now for this, that, and the other; and all 
 the time, not but what she had her hands full and to spare, 
 she wouldn't, as I sav, let me do- no. not SD much as a 
 hand's turn to help her. Once when 1 was in the passage 
 and the door of the room was ajar, I heard a faint groan, 
 as if some one was in pain it must have been Mrs. Amelia
 
 192 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 and then the voice of old Mrs. Llewellyn trying, in her 
 short, ill-tempered way, to quiet her. 
 
 " At last Mrs. Llewellyn came a-tip-te-toe to the door of 
 the kitchen, where I was waiting, and looked in, and told 
 me to come to her in her own room. I followed her along 
 the passage, wondering in my own mind whatever could 
 have been going on in Mrs. Amelia's room while those two 
 were together. It was not till she got to her own room 
 and sat down in front of me that T caught a fair sight of 
 the old lady's face. What had passed between her and her 
 daughter-in-law, beyond what I had seen and heard, good- 
 ness only knows ; but it seemed, in a manner o' speaking, 
 as if she'd been struck down with old age in the hour or 
 two she had been with her. She didn't say anything at first, 
 but sat with her eyes towards me, staring in a dazed way, 
 as if she was looking at me and not seeing me, as it were, 
 and drawing her hand across and across her forehead so, 
 and muttering something to herself. 
 
 " I began to think that what had happened that morning 
 had been too much for her, and that she was not quite 
 right in her head, and so I said- 
 
 " ' What did you please to want with me, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ''She thought a moment or two and then said 'I didn't 
 see you last night after I sent you to Monk's Bridge with 
 the letter I gave you. Did you deliver it to your master, 
 as I told you 1 ' 
 
 " ' Yes, ma'am,' I said. ' But I didn't have so far to go 
 as Monk's Bridge itself. I left the parcel you gave me at 
 the luggage office at the railway station first ; and when I 
 stepped out on to the platform again, the five o'clock train 
 was just coming in. I saw Mr. Llewellyn standing there 
 with another gentleman, looking on, and I went up to him, 
 and gave him the letter at once.' 
 
 " I had got this far and stopped. Mrs. Llewellyn was 
 not listening to a single word I was saying. She was 
 gazing straight over my shoulder at something going on 
 behind me, her eyes so wide open and staring that it gave
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 193 
 
 one quite a turn to see her. She got up from her chair 
 with a half scream, and darted by me. ' That miserable, 
 unfortunate girl ! ' I heard her say to herself as she passed 
 me. I turned around, and saw the door swing open and 
 young Mrs. Llewellyn, in her night-dress and with her 
 face as white as death, and her hair loose and falling about 
 her shoulders, fall forward into the old lady's arms. She 
 seemed to be saying something to herself, but she was all 
 in a nervous fright, and jumbled her words one a-top the 
 other, so that any one standing a yard or two away, as I 
 was, couldn't tell what she was trying to say. 
 
 " ' You foolish, wicked girl,' I heard the old lady say to 
 her, in a loud, rough whisper. ' Hold your tongue do you 
 know where you are do you know what you are saying ? 
 Why did you leave your room 1 Go back again this 
 moment ? ' 
 
 " The old lady tried to lead her along the passage to her 
 room again, but Mrs. Amelia only shuddered and moaned, 
 and leaned against her so limp and heavy that the old lady 
 had to half-carry, half -drag her along the passage. Old 
 Mrs. Llewellyn, generally speaking, was a pretty strong 
 woman ; but what she had gone through since early morn- 
 ing seemed to have told on her. I could see that she was 
 trying herself beyond her strength, and I stepped forward 
 to help her. 
 
 " ' Come near if you daro, you young eavesdropper, you 1 ' 
 cried the old lady, turning on me in the tigerish way sho 
 had with her when her blood was up. ' What did I toll you 
 half a dozen times already this morning about minding your 
 own business? And as for yoxi,' she said to Mrs. Amelia, 
 ' you come to your room ? Come to your room, F say ! ' 
 
 " 'Oh, don't don't be so rough with mo,' said the poor 
 creature, and she raised her head as if it was a heavy 
 weight on her shoulders, and tossed back her long hair. 
 ' Don't leave me don't let mo be alone when he comes I 
 know he will come or he'll forget himself 
 
 "'Hold your tomjiic, 1 say!' the old lady almost
 
 194 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 
 
 screamed, her hot French blood aflame in a moment ; ' and 
 come to your room, or you'll 'make me forget myself,' and 
 with that the poor young creature was taken away by main 
 force to her room. I think I can see her now her head 
 drooped forward so much that her face was hidden by her 
 long hair, her white arms thrown around the angry old 
 woman's neck, and her feet stumbling and dragging along 
 the passage after her as they went. 
 
 " Sure enough, Mr. Llewellyn did come over that day 
 for, I suppose, that was who she meant when she spoke of 
 some one coming. . After old Mrs. Llewellyn had been with 
 Mrs. Amelia the best part of an hour, she came out of the 
 room and said I might go in and attend to her now, while 
 she took a 'little rest. Amelia Llewellyn was fast asleep 
 when I first went in, but presently she woke and asked me 
 to tell her mother-in-law she wanted her. I went down the 
 passage to old Mrs. Llewellyn's room, and as I came near 
 the door I heard voices. One was the old lady's ; the other 
 was her son's he must have come in without me hearing 
 him while I was with his wife. 
 
 "' the girl I saw at the theatre, and if she spilts 
 
 I'm done for,' I heard Mr. Llewellyn say in a low voice, 
 but very distinct. Mrs. Llewellyn burst out a-crying, and 
 said something I couldn't make out, and as I knocked at 
 the door Mr. Llewellyn was saying again ' As for old 
 Scythe-bearer, he'll never put one foot before the other 
 again, and every penny 
 
 " Then ho heard my knock and stopped. Mrs. Llewellyn 
 was sobbing when she came to the door, and she just held 
 it ajar, and no more, while I gave her my message. 
 
 " ' Very well,' she said, in a shaking voice, when I told her. 
 ' Go away to the kitchen again, there's a good girl, and get 
 on with the dinner, and I'll go to Mrs. Amelia directly.' 
 
 " I looked back when I got to the lower end of the 
 passage before turning into the kitchen, and saw that old 
 Mrs. Llewellyn's door was still ajar, and that she was 
 watching me from behind it.
 
 MATTHEW RKDMAYNK. 195 
 
 " I had been in the kitchen, I should suppose, about half 
 an hour, when I heard the sound of voices, and a loud 
 scream from young Mrs. Llewellyn's room. I looked along 
 the passage from the kitchen door-way, and saw the door 
 of her room banged open, and old Mrs. Llewellyn came out 
 hanging to her son's arm, and trying to drag him after 
 her. He put one foot over the door-step, then leaned buck 
 into the room, and I heard him say to his wife, very slow 
 and threatening 
 
 " ' Thank your fate my lady I found you out when 
 Idid- 
 
 ' ' His mother said ' Hush ! ' and whispered something to 
 him. He turned and stepped out of the room at once, and 
 as he gave one of his evil looks towards where I was, I saw 
 his eyes were bloodshot, and his face as white as chalk. 
 His mother whispered to him again, and they went into 
 the sitting-room together. I went on with my cooking, 
 and presently I heard a floor open and close as if some one 
 had gone away Mr. Llewellyn, I suppose it was. 
 
 "Old Mrs. Llewellyn had dinner by herself that day, 
 Mrs. Amelia being far too ill to leave her room ; when I 
 say dinner, she sat down at the table, but scarce bite or sup 
 did she take, and her eyes were red and her voice shaky 
 when she spoke, as it' she'd been crying again and I do 
 
 believe she had too, after her son was gone 
 
 As soon as I had cleare.l all away and tidied up, she called 
 me to her, and said with her head turned the other way, as 
 if she was looking out of the window 
 
 " ' I am afraid, Sarah, that I must part with you on very 
 short notice. Mr. Llewellyn's groom has been very care- 
 less, and his horse, he tells me. has met with foul play of 
 some kind, and my son intends taking steps about it that 
 will compel him to be away for a time, and in view of that 
 and my daughter-in-law's illness I have thought it 
 best to leave our quarters here, and go back to Monk's 
 Bridge ayain. lm our movements will be so uncertain 
 for some time to come that, as I have just told you. 1 am
 
 106 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 afraid we must come to an arrangement for dispensing with 
 the week's notice. You have been a good girl, Sarah, and 
 I am sorry to have to part with you, and if I can be of 
 any assistance to you in getting you another place, or any- 
 thing of that kind, I shall be only too happy to help you.' 
 
 " The rest of the day was spent in packing up for now 
 she had taken the notion Mrs. Llewellyn was anxious to 
 leave for Monk's Bridge the very next day, if she could ; 
 the murder happening so near by had upset her so, she 
 said. We mananged to get everything finished, and I 
 slept there over-night, and left for home next morning. As 
 for Mrs. Amelia, I never saw her again from that day to 
 this. Mrs. Llewellyn had attended to her as far as she 
 needed the day before, and when I came away in the 
 morning, she said her daughter-in-law had passed a very 
 poor night, but she was sleeping nicely just then, and she 
 wouldn't have her disturbed, not was it ever so." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Redmayne did not speak for a while after Sarah Bundle 
 had finished her story, then he said 
 
 " The letter you gave to Llewellyn on the station that 
 night I suppose it had been read, as usual, by old Mrs. 
 Llewellyn 1 " 
 
 " Yes ; both by old and young Mrs. Llewellyn." 
 
 " What effect did it appear to have on them do you 
 remember 1 ? " 
 
 "No very noticeable effect on the old lady, that I can 
 recollect," answered Sarah, slowly. " But it had on the 
 younger. She seemed more excited than ever I had 
 noticed before; though, as far as that goes, I didn't see 
 very much of her after the letter came. She kept her 
 door locked most of the time, and if there was a knock she 
 would answer that she was busy and didn't want to be 
 disturbed. She answered Mrs. Llewellyn once or twice 
 that way, I remember, but the old lady wouldn't take no for 
 an answer, and would go in. The last time, they had high
 
 MATTHEW 11EDMAYXE. 197 
 
 words, and the old lady said she didn't like such behaviour, 
 and she believed there was more going on than met the 
 eye. ' Thei-e's not much goes on in this house but meets 
 your eye, at all events,'^ says Mrs. Amelia, firing up for 
 once, ' seeing you read every letter that comes into the 
 place. ' Yes, and need to, with such a two-faced hussy as 
 you under one's roof,' snaps the old lady, firing up on 
 her side. ' But I'll take care that sharper eyes than mine 
 sees this last one. I'll send it to your husband, my lady, 
 and see what he can make out of it.' It wasn't often Mrs. 
 Amelia mustered the courage to answer the old lady back, 
 but she did now, and gave her as good as she sent, into the 
 bargain. ' A two-faced hussy, am 1 1 ' she said, looking her 
 mother-in-law straight in the face, and speaking just as 
 slow and spiteful as ever she could. ' If you find it so 
 difficult to deal with two faces on one pair of shoulders, take 
 care how you deal with two faces when they belong to 
 different people especially,' says she, bending forward, 
 ' tvhen those faces are female faces, 1 just like that. 
 The old lady didn't say a word in answer, but turned as 
 white as a sheet, and went out of the room, and in a 
 quarter of an hour or so sent me off with the letter and the 
 parcel." 
 
 " Those were strange words to use, Sarah. You have no 
 idea what they meant?" 
 
 " Not the least ; but they seemed quite to stagger the old 
 lady, and Mrs. Amelia said them as if they meant something 
 between themselves." 
 
 "And what was in the parcel you took to the station 
 do you know? " 
 
 "Only a parcel of books, I think, to be sent to some 
 friend at Foxton or Fcilding, or somewhere ; but I couldn't 
 be sure." 
 
 "One thing more. Yon said something about a groom 
 staying at Monk's Bridge, while you and old and young 
 Mrs. Llewellyn were at Lowry Bay. Do you know if he is 
 there now ] "
 
 198 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 " No ! He got blamed for what happened to Scythe-bearer, 
 and Mr. Llewellyn turned him away at once. He keeps the 
 Truss o' Straw now. Jerry Paddock was his name." 
 
 " There is nothing else you can remember ? " 
 
 Sarah shook her head. " Nothing else that I can bring 
 to mind ; but if you'd like to ask any more questions ' ' 
 
 "Thanks, Sarah," said Redmayne, rising. "I don't 
 think I have any more to ask." 
 
 " And have I do you see your way any clearer now, Mr. 
 Redmayne ? " asked the girl, also rising, and looking up in 
 his face anxiously. " You know, I do so want to make up 
 for what I had to say in Court that time what I had to 
 say," she added, with a sense of remorse at having told the 
 truth still heavy upon her. 
 
 " Thanks to you, Sarah, I think I do see my way clearer 
 now ; but we must wait and see what the future has in 
 store for us, and if it turns out as I hope it will, you will 
 have won the gratitude of some one much better able to 
 thank you than I am." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Redmayne had taken up his quarters at the Occidental 
 Hotel, and as he sat in his room that night and looked 
 over the evening paper he turned to the shipping column 
 from sheer force of habit, just as the better half of humanity 
 turn to the notices of births, deaths, and marriages. He 
 was not thinking of what he was reading, but was won- 
 dering how he could best turn to account the information 
 he had obtained from Sarah Bundle a few hours before, 
 when his eye happened to rest upon the following entry : 
 
 ARRIVED THIS DAY. 
 
 Helen Denny, barque, 728 tons, Camel I, from London, 
 via Plymouth, Capetown, and Hobart. Passengers Mr. and 
 Mrs. Macfarlaue, G. M'Kie, F. Leslie, Dr. Cartnichael 
 
 " Carmichael ! " he cried, joyfully, throwing down the 
 paper. " The very man ! "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 109 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 DOCTOR CARMICHAEL had prejudices on most subjects 
 hotels .among the number. Kediuayne knew at which one 
 he would most probably put up ; and after breakfast next 
 morning he set out in search of him. He had to pass the 
 post office on his way. and he called in to see if there were 
 any letters for him. There was one in his uncle's round 
 commercial hand, another from his sister Ellen, and a third 
 from Esther ; and he hurried out to find a quiet spot in 
 which to read it. 
 
 " DEAU MATTHEW," it began - " When you left me the 
 other day I was ?o agitated and confused that I left much 
 unsaid which I am most anxious you should know. I 
 am very much afraid you will think me an unreasonable, 
 unfeeling, selfish thing in saying what I did, and I cannot 
 contain myself till I have told you the whole truth, so 
 that you may see what justification I had. Dear Matthew, 
 I am sure you will understand my motives much more 
 clearly when I tell you that my sister Kate has recovered, 
 and is now living with us. Before ever the trial came on 
 Miss Winterson had seen to her removal from that horrible 
 place on the Happy Valley Road for me ; and indeed if we 
 had not found her out, I have no doubt she would have 
 been turned adrift on the world, helpless as she was, for 
 those two creatures v.-ho watched her were, of course, in 
 the pay of Stadding, and it is easy to guess what would bo 
 the first thing they would have done when their payment 
 was stopped. She \vas placed very comfortably in an 
 asylum, and while there she regained her sanity to an 
 extent that justified her being liberated from confinement 
 altogether. Since then she has been with us ; and although 
 in other respects she is as well as I am, her health is still 
 very delicate, and her mind is so morbidly sensitive on the 
 score of her past treatment that to renew her remembrance
 
 200 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 of it, and to bring about a hopeless relapse into insanity, mean 
 one and the same thing. She cannot bear the slightest 
 reference to anything associated with her terrible experi- 
 ence ; and the doctor can only give us hopes of a permanent 
 cure on the condition of her mind enjoying perfect rest and 
 quiet. It has cost a world of patient, tender nursing and 
 protection from excitement, to bring about the hopeful 
 condition she is in to-day. I feel as if a very mine were 
 beneath my feet when I consider that a chance paragraph 
 in a newspaper nay, a chance word dropped in her hearing 
 might undo all our work, and condemn my poor Kate to 
 a doom far, far worse than death itself. Oh, my dear 
 Matthew, let me beg of you that yours may not be the 
 hand that will ruin her future life that you will not do 
 anything that will cause this wretched case to be tried over 
 again. But you will, you must if you carry out what you 
 have set your mind upon doing. I know you have every 
 right to make the truth known, so far as right goes ; and 
 were it only respect for my sister's memory if she were 
 dead I could not, and would not for a moment seek to 
 prevent you. But you see it is much much more than 
 that. I do not think any woman in the world was ever 
 placed as I am. I do love you, Matthew dearly, dearly ; 
 you know I do. For myself I do not say one word more 
 than I mean when I tell you I would gladly give my life to 
 make you happy. But there are some things more precious 
 than life -some things which it is not ours to give up 
 and it is something more precious than life that is keeping 
 me from your side to-day. I dare not seek my own happi- 
 ness at the expense of my sister's life, or worse her reason; 
 and when you consider this I am sure you will not think of 
 persisting in your purpose. I know it is like asking you, 
 if you love me, to love me no longer. But, Matthew, you 
 are a man, you have prospects, you have many interests in 
 life : try and forget me ; try and live for some high and 
 noble purpose. And try and realize that not the least 
 noble and unselfish action you can perform, will be to grant
 
 MATTHEW HEDMAYXE. 201 
 
 the request of the distracted girl who now appeals to your 
 pity, your generosity, and your forgiveness. 
 
 " Your loving and trusting 
 
 "ESTHER." 
 
 " P.S. Miss Wintei*son and Catherine send their best 
 wishes." 
 
 The letter had been blistered by tears in several places 
 when he opened it ; but it was blistered in several more by 
 the time he had finished it. 
 
 " Poor girl," he said, slowly folding up the letter, and 
 holding it in his hand. " Poor little Ettie. I didn't know 
 her sister was with them. That makes all the difference. 
 What a brute she must think I am. It's a lucky thing 
 this didn't come a day earlier. If it had, it would have 
 tied my hands once for all. I should have given up the 
 whole thing, and gone and buried myself in Fiji again, and 
 consequently would not have known what I do to-day. 
 Dear little Ettie ! I believe we've all been on the wrong 
 tack, and that I've been all at sea for the foui-th time; but 
 I'll make you a happy woman yet, if I die for it," and 
 forgetting that it is impossible to enjoy perfect privacy 
 even in the most retired street, he raised the letter to his 
 lips and kissed it. 
 
 Half an hour later he was smoking a cigar with Doctor 
 Carmichael on the balcony of the Empire Hotel. 
 
 There had been a silence between them. Redmayne had 
 just told the doctor what lie himself had learned from 
 Esther's confession ; and the doctor was leaning back in his 
 chair, digesting what he had heard, one knee crossed over 
 the other, his hands clasped behind his head, his hat tipped 
 over his eyes, thin wreaths of smoke curling up from his 
 lips at lazy intervals, his eyes watching the throng passing 
 to and fro on the long stretch of gray sunlit street below 
 him. 
 
 '' What do I think of it? " said the doctor, slowly, at last.
 
 202 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Why, it looks as if the whole thing was brought about 
 by a special Providence for the one express purpose of 
 proving the truth of my theory." 
 
 The doctor had many theories, and Redmayne asked 
 which of them he referred to. 
 
 " My theory that an actor's character for good or evil is 
 affected by his profession ; that he unconsciously takes upon 
 himself the features of the part he represents," answered 
 the doctor, in the doggedly defiant tone of a man who is 
 accustomed to have his theory disputed, and who expected 
 to have it disputed now. " The last man I repeated this to 
 was this very Stadding. He was always a cad as well as a 
 villain, and he scoffed at the idea, and yet," said the doctor, 
 solemnly, " and yet my words were a Prophecy : they told 
 him to the very letter the death he was to die to the very 
 letter, sir. Let us look at the facts of the case. Here is a 
 girl, foolish and sensitive as all the rest of 'em, who night 
 after night, night after night, fills her mind with the 
 thoughts, and trains her hands to the acts of a deceived, 
 deserted, and jealous woman goes through it all, likely, 
 in her very dreams. Her false character and her real 
 character become welded together in her red-hot excite- 
 ment, more closely than she is herself aware of. Thanks 
 to Stadding's treachery, she becomes in sober truth the 
 very character she has so long only trifled with behold 
 her in reality a Deserted Wife. The last check is removed: 
 her reason is destroyed. She meets her false lover under 
 circumstances most likely almost exactly similar to those 
 she has become \ised to behind the footlights. And now, 
 with the influence of her training strong upon her that 
 training which we call acting, and which you and I pay our 
 shilling to gape at, and clap our hands at," the doctor went 
 on, warming up, and describing tangled rings of fire in 
 front of liedmayne with his lighted cigar " what does she 
 do 1 What do we expect her to do 1 What is it an absolute 
 certainty that she will do 1 Why simply put into execution 
 what she has so long practised. (She stabs him to the heart
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 203 
 
 merely As he deserved, you say ? That is not for you nor 
 me to judge, Mat," said the doctor, with a relapse into 
 gravity. " But tell me now, what confirmation do you 
 want beyond that ? I am Amazed," said the doctor, looking 
 around him with an expression of face that quite bore out 
 his words. " I say to you I am A.-nuized when I think how 
 the terms I used to that man have come true to the word 
 and letter 'Or mad,' says he to me, that night. 'Yes,' 
 says I, 'especially if mad ; I'm glad you follow me,' says I. 
 I remember it as if it was yesterday." 
 
 Whether it was that Redmayne was particularly struck 
 by the doctor's theory or not, he remained silent and 
 thoughtful for some minutes. 
 
 "It is a strange coincidence, to say the least of it," he 
 said, at last. " But I am ready in this instance to go a 
 step further than even you do. It did not occur to me 
 before, but what you have just said has suggested it to me. 
 Let us go back to that night at the theati-e. The deserted 
 wife, otherwise Esther's sister, you will remember, only 
 enters on the scene after the quarrel between the two men, 
 and after one of them has made his escape. To bear out 
 your theory she must actually stab the wounded man. 
 Now, does she do that? Esther fainted just there, you 
 know another odd coincidence, by the bye and doesn't 
 say how the scene ends." 
 
 It was only a trifling question, but Redmayne was a 
 sailor, and along with certain superstitions peculiar to the 
 sea, he had a lurking belief in omens, and he waited for the 
 answer much as a school-girl might have waited for a gipsy 
 fortune-teller's decision as to what her future husband 
 would be like. 
 
 "Well," said the prophet, drawing in a little, "only tho 
 downward sweep of the arm is wanting. As a matter of 
 fact the wounded man clutches her dress, and before the 
 knife can descend, he falls forward at her feet, dead. But 
 the disposition of mind, the will to do the deed, look you, 
 is there, just the same." 
 
 o
 
 204 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Redmayne drew a long breath of relief at the will to do 
 the deed being there only, and not the deed itself ; and 
 accepted the omen. 
 
 "I think with you," he said, "that Esther's sister and 
 Stadding must have met under circumstances startlingly 
 like those represented on the stage. Talk of holding the 
 mirror up to Nature ! The mirror must have been held up 
 to the Future that night and caught an uncommonly 
 truthful reflection, too, if what I think turns out to be 
 actual fact. Look here, doctor," he said, lowering his 
 voice, and leaning forward. " I have reason to believe that 
 not only did Stadding and Catherine meet as you saw actor 
 and actress meet on the stage, but that the Third Man was 
 there too ; that it was he who actually did the murder, and 
 that he made his escape just as the play represented to 
 you." 
 
 " And who was that third man ? " asked the doctor, 
 incredulously. 
 
 ' ' Why, to make the whole picture complete, he was at 
 the theatre too that night, though not on the stage. You 
 pointed him out to Esther, and she, little thinking what 
 Fate had in store for her, said she hoped his path in life 
 and hers would never meet. It is Llewellyn." 
 
 " Llewellyn ! I remember the name well. She shuddered 
 when her eyes first rested on him that night, and I said, 
 ' Miss Gower, you shuddered ; I'll take my oath you 
 shuddered.' I remember. But what makes you think he 
 had a hand in it 1 ?" 
 
 " Listen, and I'll tell you." And Kedmayne recounted 
 to the wondering doctor what he had learned from Sarah 
 on the day before. 
 
 "Now, doctor," he said, as he concluded, "you know I'm 
 better at sticking to an opinion once it's made up, than I 
 am at making up new ones. Can you help my dull brains 
 out of the difficulty 1 "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 205 
 
 The doctor walked up and down the balcony, and between 
 the puffs of cigar smoke said slowly 
 
 " I say, Mat this is the very deuce of a complication 
 Let me think." 
 
 He took another half-dozen turns, and then began 
 
 " First of all let us grant that my theory is perfectly 
 right in Principle, even though prevented by a mere moment 
 of time from being fully confirmed by Fact as it would 
 have been. Putting that aside, my idea is this it may be 
 right, or it may be wrong : We can take it for granted 
 
 that the Amelia LI mentioned by Esther as the woman 
 
 to whom Stadding was writing was no other than the 
 Amelia Llewellyn spoken of by Sarah Bundle. It is evident 
 that Llewellyn himself had pretty strong suspicions of what 
 was going on, but in his presence she is too cautiously on 
 her guard to give him an opportunity of arriving at the 
 truth. Very well : ho packs her oil to Lo\vry Bay, where 
 she is near enough (o be still in his power, and just far 
 enough away for her to make some incautious move that 
 will reveal the truth ; and with the idea of bringing matters 
 to a head all the quicker, by driving her to desperation, 
 she is allowed to receive no letter from any one till it has 
 first been read by her mother-in-law. Moreover, he rides 
 out to Lowry Bay himself; and in all probability his wife 
 never left the house on a single occasion without being 
 under his eye. Here is where the dilliculty comes in : 
 That these two people Stadding and Amelia Llewellyn 
 (while at Lowry Bay, at any rate, whatever may have been 
 the case before) could have corres]x>nded with one another 
 in the ordinary way, one would imagine impossible, seeing 
 the old lady read all tin- lot UTS that came to the house. 
 That they could have mot was still more impossiblo, in view 
 of the watch that was kopt up by both Llewellyn himself 
 and his mother. In fact, wo only hoar of Stadding being 
 once at Lowry Bay, and that was on the night of his death. 
 Now, it is at the least very improbable that, on what was 
 very likely the one solitary occasion on which it was
 
 206 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 possible for Stadding and Llewellyn to meet, that they 
 should do so. More unlikely still that they should stumble 
 across one another at midnight, when neither would be 
 abroad without a particular reason. Then again, young 
 Mrs. Llewellyn, according to the girl's story, after she 
 received that last letter, was more excited than ever she 
 had been before. In my mind all this points to two con- 
 clusions first, that in spite of all the cunning of Llewellyn 
 and his mother, they had been out-manoeuvred by one more 
 cunning still, and that Stadding, having broken the heart 
 of one woman, and then heartlessly deserted her, was for 
 the second time in his life about to carry out an elopement ; 
 second, that the plan must have been found out by Llewellyn 
 at the last moment by means of the letter the old lady 
 sent him, and that instead of meeting the wife as he had 
 expected, Stadding met the husband, and paid the penalty 
 of his villainy with his life. That's my theory, and from 
 the behaviour of Amelia Llewellyn, I should say, that as 
 regards the murder, it was her theory too. There are only 
 two points that don't seem to agree. In the first place, it 
 seems, as I have said, impossible for Stadding and Amelia 
 Llewellyn to have corresponded through the post ; and yet, 
 judging from the woman's conduct, that is evidently just 
 how she did receive this message and that, too, in a letter 
 that had been already under the eye of a jealous mother- 
 in-law. Secondly, how was it possible for Llewellyn to 
 find out the appointment between his wife and Stadding by 
 means of this same innocent letter as I suppose he did. 
 You see the position?" The doctor held up three fingers, 
 and checked off his periods on them one by one. " Mother- 
 in-law reads letter, and passes it on as innocent. Amelia 
 Llewellyn reads letter, and receives a message that excites 
 her unusually for the rest of the day. Llewellyn himself 
 reads the letter, sees the hidden message, keeps the appoint- 
 ment instead of his wife, and we know with what result. 
 Now, what is the explanation ? " 
 lledmayne shook his head.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 207 
 
 " Well, I believe it must lie in the fact that they 
 corresponded in cypher. The simple commonplaces that 
 old Mrs. Llewellyn saw would be read very differently by 
 Stadding and Amelia Llewellyn, who had the key to the 
 little mystery 
 
 " Right, doctor, right," cried Redmayne, joyfully, not, 
 waiting to hear more, and starting up from his chair. 
 " Now, if we can only sheet this home 
 
 "Yes, yes, we kno\v," said the doctor, waving him back 
 to his seat again. "Esther, happiness, and all the rest of 
 it. But even supposing that all this is correct and bear 
 in mind that, plausible as it seems to you and me, it is 
 only supposition after all the sheeting home is just where 
 the difficulty comes in." 
 
 " Difficulty ! Why, what is the law for if it can't give 
 us justice 1 " 
 
 " As to justice, dear boy, remember that the scales are 
 oftener on her eyes than in her hands. See here, Mat, let 
 us take a common-sense view of your position. Don't 
 trust so confidently to the law. Recollect this case has 
 already been before the Courts, and with what result "? 
 Why, as things fell out, the connection between poor litle 
 Esther and this crime was so clear that you yourself 
 believed her guilty. No one, even for a moment, thought 
 of associating any one else with the case. What evidence 
 can you show to support this new theory of Llwellyn's 
 guilt ? What could have been his motive ? Jealousy, you 
 say. Of whom was he jealous ? You can't prove that he 
 even knew of Stadding's existence. You can't show that 
 even a single letter passed between his wife and Studding 
 to make him jealous. On the contrary, on the surface 
 everything points to their never having exchanged a note 
 or a word. Even if we had all the letters that passed 
 between them, they were evidently written so that none 
 but themselves 
 
 "They are burnt," said IJedmayno. "Sarah Bundle 
 told me she burnt them herself, so that hope is gone."
 
 208 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " There it is, you see. No, Mat ; feasible as our sup- 
 position is, we base absolutely everything on what? On 
 the mere fact of having seen the two words 'Amelia 
 
 LI .' If you yourself had not seen those words first, 
 
 and been, above all, influenced by what you read in 
 Esther's diary, all that you have heard from Sarah Bundle 
 would scarce have aroused a suspicion in. your mind. 
 Where do Ave find those two words, or rather this word and 
 a half] Why, of all places in the world, where it is not 
 worth the paper it is written on in a narrative by the 
 very woman whom everybody believes was guilty of the 
 murder herself, and coming confessedly from the mouth of 
 a mad woman even at that. Poor little Esther ! I can 
 imagine her feelings, after proving in that diary of hers to 
 such a pitch of certainty that her sister was the guilty 
 woman, and then finding out after all that she is innocent. 
 Mat, Mat, Mat, what amazing fools of fortune you three 
 have been, and what an heroic little woman she is." 
 
 "Yes, isn't she," said Redmayne. "I think so now. 
 Bat how to cope with this man Llewellyn," he added his 
 mind dwelling on the one idea. 
 
 " Mat, my poor fellow," said the doctor, putting his 
 hand on Kedmayne's shoulder, " your object is to bring a 
 wife back to your hearth, rather than to bring a criminal 
 to justice ; and after that letter from Esther you showed 
 me an hour ago, we must give up at once and for ever all 
 idea of ever taking this case into Coiirt, or any publicity at 
 all, and proceed by other means." 
 
 "True, doctor, true; I had forgotten. But what are 
 those other means ? For now I have got the thread in my 
 hand, I will unravel the whole skein if it takes a lifetime. 
 I will never rest till I have found out the truth, and can 
 place in my wife's hand the proof of her sister's innocence ; 
 the proof that shall sweep away her last shred of objection, 
 and make her in reality my wife at last. If the law 
 cannot drag the truth out of this man Llewellyn, I will." 
 
 " Steady, Mat, steady. It is coming to a personal
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 209 
 
 struggle between you and Llewellyn now, and remember 
 you haven't a single chance to throw away. One false 
 move, and the game is lost." 
 
 " Never fear, doctor j I'm playing for my wife's reput- 
 ation, and my own happiness nay, my own life ; and 
 I have this advantage : three years have passed, and 
 Llewellyn is living in fancied security, and is therefore off 
 his guard. 1 shall open the game by making the first 
 move this afternoon." 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "To see Llewellyn's groom he's the landlord of the 
 Truss o' Straw now, I believe and see what ho knows of 
 Llewellyn's whereabouts on the night of the murder. He 
 was the only servant kept at Monk's Bridge at the time, so 
 Sarah Bundle says, and he is sure to know something of 
 his master's movements." 
 
 " Two heads are better than one in this business, Mat. 
 Stay and have lunch with me, and we'll walk out together." 
 lledmayne had been on the point of leaving. He halted, 
 looked at his watch, and sat down again impatiently. The 
 doctor had resumed his comfortable position again, and was 
 quite at his ease. 
 
 "By the way, Mat," ho said, "there is one thing we 
 have both of us overlooked, and which it would be as well 
 to keep in mind. What was it the girl Bundle told you 
 about Amelia Llewellyn warning the old lady to beware 
 of two female faces when those faces were on different 
 shoulders ? Tell mo."
 
 PART VI. 
 
 WHY SCYTHE-BEARER DID NOT RUN FOR THE 
 CUP. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Scene : THE parlour of the Truss o' Straw, a roaring fire, 
 with three persons seated before it ; the atmosphere 
 somewhat heavy with smoke. 
 
 Time : The clock on the stroke of ten. 
 
 Characters : A young man, apparently a sailor ; an elderly 
 man, apparently a doctor ; the landlord of the Truss o" 
 Straw. The landlord in the act of drawing the back of 
 his hand across his mouth, and about to speak. 
 
 " Yes, it's nearly three years ago since I was turned 
 away by Mr. Llewellyn over that affair about Scythe- 
 bearer which, as you'll see as I go on, I don't think he 
 acted altogether justly by me. However, I can't complain, 
 for I lost nothing by changing from groom to publican. 
 A party of the name of Beazely it was that had this place 
 before I took it. They wanted to give it up just about the 
 time I lost my situation at Monk's Bridge, and as I'd been 
 of a saving turn, and had a pound or two put by, why, 
 thinks I to myself, I can't do better than buy it, and buy 
 it I did, and here I've been ever since. 
 
 " He was a strange man, was Llewellyn, ever since I 
 knew him ; but the strangest thing that happened while I
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 211 
 
 was with him was that affair of Scythe-bearer and the Cup. 
 People said, as they always do say, that it was a cut-and- 
 dried affair, and that what he lost was only on paper ; but, 
 you see, I was on the ground, and I know different. I 
 know to my own certain knowledge that what he lost ran 
 into four figures and pretty high up at that ; and what's 
 more, if it hadn't been for his wife's money he would have 
 been a ruined man to-day ; and if that don't go to show 
 good faith I should like to know what does. Besides, it 
 was through that very accident happening to the horse 
 that I was turned away, because he thought I should have 
 prevented it, and of course, in a manner of speaking, so I 
 should ; but you'll see how it was when I come to it. 
 
 " Mr. Llewellyn and his wife never seemed to get on 
 together almost from the day of their marriage. They 
 weren't cut out for one another. The puzzle always was 
 to me how they ever came to marry, in the first place. 
 They did say that he married her for her money, which is 
 likely enough. However, I can't say as to that ; but I've 
 a pretty shrewd idea he had the use of the best part of it 
 after they were married. He was always a great sporting 
 man, was Llewellyn, and the luck was always against him ; 
 and what with one thing and what with another, he soon 
 made ducks and drakes of every penny of his wife's money 
 ho could lay his hands on. The worst of it was, he not 
 only had his wife's money, but he used to ill-treat the poor 
 woman too, and though she never appeared to complain, or 
 do anything to take her own part, even so far as a woman 
 might, many's the time I've seen the traces of tears on her 
 face not but what she had a spirit of her own, too, and 
 tried to hide her trouble. As to quarrelling with her, 
 you'd wonder how any one could do it, for she was kind- 
 hearted to a fault, and that fotul of children : she and my 
 little Floss were friends from the first day she came into 
 the house ; and she used to make as much of her as if she 
 had been her own. My little girl was deformed, I may 
 tell you. She had caught the fever when she was quite a
 
 212 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 little thing, and had never properly got the better of it, 
 careful as we all were her mother was alive at that time ; 
 and with the odd turns that diseases take in young chil- 
 dren, ever since then her back began to grow out. As to 
 old Mrs. Llewellyn, one would have thought she'd have 
 taken her part, but not she. She took very little notice of 
 her, in fact. Latterly, when Llewellyn became regular 
 cruel to his wife, the old lady did sometimes interfere 
 between them, it is true, for very peace sake ; but his 
 temper was of a kind that even his mother daren't so much 
 as say a word to him when he was roused. He wasn't 
 quite so bad after the housemaid came to live at the house 
 along of her being a stranger, I suppose ; but I was glad 
 above a bit when they made up their minds to live apart for 
 a while, Mrs. Amelia, and the old lady, and the girl taking 
 a cottage, and going to stay at Lowry Bay. There was 
 some peace and quietness in the place then, for Llewellyn 
 was never in better humour than when he had nothing but 
 his horses to take up his attention. 
 
 "This was the time that lie was training Scythe-bearer, 
 and he seemed to grudge any hand but his own coming 
 near him. The horse was a hot favourite for the Welling- 
 ton Cup, and, as I say, I know Llewellyn himself stood to 
 win or lose heavily by him to lose as it turned out in the 
 end, though little we any of us thought in what way it 
 would come about. 
 
 " It was an odd thing that no sooner had his wife left 
 him for a while, than Llewellyn fell into a way of con- 
 stantly riding back'ards and for'ards to Lowry Bay, where 
 she was staying. I thought at first he had found out 
 the miss of her, and was going to make it up again. I 
 found out afterwards I was mistaken ; but whatever his 
 object was, he hardly missed a day but what he would 
 ride over. 
 
 "Things went on in this way till the llth of June came 
 round and good reason have I io recollect the date, as 
 you'll see directly which it is about the only date I do
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 213 
 
 romcmher. That day Llewellyn had tho dog-cart out early 
 in the morning, and after giving me strict instructions as to 
 Scythe-bearer, he handed mo over the key of the stable and 
 drove off. The day before was as rough a day as ever I 
 see. Iut the next morning was quiet enough, only it was 
 a cold wintry morning tho kind of weather when one 
 would prefer to walk, and what little wind there was came 
 keen and cold from off the hills, and I wondered at him 
 taking the dog-cart out. 
 
 " That day had begun bad for me, but I little thought 
 how it was to end. Little Floss had been feverish when 
 she first woke, but she seemed to get better as the morning 
 wore on, and she got up and followed mo about at my work 
 just as she used. If she had been a strong, healthy child, 
 I shouldn't have thought anything of it ; but at the time 
 she came through her first illness the doctor had told me 
 that he thought it only his duty to let me know, that unless 
 I was very careful with her she'd never be reared. 1 
 thought of this, and I wanted her to keep inside out of the 
 cold. But no, not she. Where I was, there she must be, 
 and thinking that maybe the open air would after all do 
 her more good than being in the house, I let her be with me. 
 
 "About three or half-past in the afternoon, Llewellyn 
 drove into the yard again. He had some one with him in 
 the cart a short, German-looking man, with light hair and 
 whiskers. He spoke to him by the name of Trupp, and 
 called to him to come and see tho finest piece of horse-flesh 
 in all New Zealand. They went into the stables together, 
 and after a while came out and went into tho house. They 
 hadn't been there more than a bare quarter of an hour, as 
 near as I can recollect, before out they were again. They 
 got into the dog-cart, and drove out of the yard once more. 
 They went close past me, and from what I heard Llewellyn 
 say I gathered that they were hound for the station to meet 
 the five o'clock train. It seemed it was some appointment 
 the man he spoke to as Trupp hud to keep. 
 
 " Towards dusk little- Floss began to grow so feverish
 
 214 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 again that I got more uneasy than ever about her. She 
 complained that her head wa,s hot and aching, and that she 
 felt sick. I tried to persuade her to go to bed ; but no 
 she wanted to stay close to me, and there she was with her 
 arms around my neck, and her head resting on my shoulder. 
 Her face was close to mine, and I could feel how hot it was. 
 While we were sitting like this, she rolling and tossing her 
 head from side to side, and me trying to comfort her in my 
 rough way, and wishing that Llewellyn would come back, 
 so that I could set off into town for medicine, there was a 
 rattle of wheels, and the dog-cart came clattering into the 
 yard again. I laid little Floss down on her bed, and went 
 out ; and there was the German, Trupp, back again with 
 Llewellyn. They jumped out of the cart, and went into 
 the house. As I took the horse out of the shafts I see that 
 he had been driven at such a rate that he hadn't another 
 couple of hours' work left in him. 
 
 " ' Oh, Jerry,' calls out Llewellyn's voice, as I led the 
 brute into the stable, ' I want you to run down and tell 
 Moffat ' (Moffat, that was the blacksmith)' tell Moffat,' 
 says he, ' I Avant to see him first thing in the morning. 
 Nothing the matter with Scythe-bearer, I hope, since I 
 left?' 
 
 " ' Nothing the matter, sir,' says I. ' What about the 
 key of his stall, sir will you take it now 1 ' 
 
 " He was half-way towards the house again by this 
 time, and he stopped for a moment, and then calls back 
 ' Never mind it to-night, now ; the morning will do. Don't 
 forget what I told you about seeing Molfat I must speak 
 to him first thing to-morrow. You'd better go down at 
 once.' 
 
 " I stole round to my own quarters before I set out, just 
 to catch a glimpse of my little Floss, and there she was 
 lying asleep, just as I had laid her down. Her face was 
 still flushed, and she seemed a bit uneasy in her sleep ; but 
 sleep, anyway, I took to be a good sign, and I set off for 
 town in better heart.
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYXE. 215 
 
 " I called at Moffat's house on the way down, but he was 
 not in. His wife told ine he was working overtime, and I 
 would see him at the forge. The smithy was about ten 
 minutes further down the road, and as I came up to it I saw 
 both half-doors were closed, but the firelight was shining 
 bright and clear in the dark through the crack between 
 them. I was just going to knock at the door, when a 
 sudden gust of wind blew my hat off, and while I was 
 groping for it in the dark I heard a voice from inside the 
 smithy say with an oath 
 
 " ' I tell you it's a straight affair. All my money's on it 
 to the last red cent.' 
 
 " ' And Scythe-bearerl ' says another voice. 
 
 " ' Scythe-bearer,' says the first voice, very slow, and in 
 that tone that made me think the owner of it laid his finger 
 alongside his nose as he spoke. ' Sythe-bearer won't go to 
 the post. Or if he goes to the post, he won't see the 
 finish." 
 
 " I had got my hat by this time, but waited to hear 
 more. 
 
 " ' He won't be stopped by fair means anyhow,' says the 
 second voice, ' for I know Taffy's backing his own animal 
 up to the hilt.' 
 
 " ' Ah,' says the first voice. 
 
 " ' Ah,' says the voice of Moffat himself. 
 
 " ' Ah,' says a third voice. 
 
 "'Take my tip, dear boy,' says the first voice, 'help us 
 scoop the blooming pool ; you'll never regret it.' 
 
 " ' It's a case of Welsher remix Welshman,' begins Moffat 
 again, and then ho breaks off. ' By - there's some one 
 sit that door." 
 
 " 1 had my eye at the crack, and I s:iw the blacksmith 
 make a rush for the door with a bar of iron, white-hot, in 
 his hand. I knew what Moffat was, when he was roused, 
 too well to wait till he got near me, and L jumped back, 
 but something caught my foot, and 1 fell. Luckily 
 for me, in falling 1 managed to half roll, half scramble a
 
 216 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 few yards back into the darkness. Moffat swung back the 
 upper half of the door and peered out, with three other men 
 beside him. 
 
 " ' There's no one there,' says one. 
 
 " ' By heaven, there is though,' cries another, pointing 
 direct to where I was. ' See, there, Moffat. Lend us your 
 iron, and I'll burn out his lampas for him.' 
 
 " Moffat never said a word, but kicked open the lower 
 half of the door, and darted out after me, the bar clenched 
 in his hand. I saw he meant business, and sprang to my 
 feet, and ran for dear life. T trusted he would miss me in 
 the dark, but the other three joined in the chase and came 
 after me like the wind. I hadn't run a hundred yards when 
 I put my foot in a hole, and fell a second time. There was 
 no time to get to my feet again, so I rolled as quietly as I 
 could to one side and waited. The three men dashed past 
 me ; the blacksmith had been out-paced, and came lumbering 
 up and stood within half a dozen paces of me. It had all 
 happened in such double-quick time that the bar of iron in 
 his hand still had a dull red glow on it. He stood swearing 
 and muttering to himself ; the glow on the iron died out ; 
 the clatter of the men's footsteps, and the sound of their 
 voices, grew fainter and fainter till one couldn't hear them ; 
 then he turned and went back to the smithy, still swearing 
 and muttering. I waited till I saw him enter the open 
 door, and then, as there was no sign of the other three 
 men coming back, I rose to my feet and went on again 
 into town. 
 
 " I had hurt my ankle when I fell the second time, and 
 through that I was a good hour and a half longer than I 
 would have been in getting home. What I had over-heard 
 in the smithy had made me uneasy. 1 suspected there 
 was some plot forming to prevent Scythe-bearer from 
 runninir.
 
 MATTHEW UEDMAYXE. 217 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " I HAD got about half-way towards home when I heard 
 the sound of footsteps on the road behind me soft, 
 stealthy footsteps, that gave mo the notion of some one 
 quietly dogging mo in the dark. I stopped and looked 
 back. Just then the door of a house by the roadside 
 opened, and the light streamed out over the man who was 
 following me. The broad-brimmed felt hat he was wearing 
 shaded his face so that I couldn't see what he was like ; 
 only that he was tall, and was dressed in what looked a 
 shabby black ; and then the door closed again. But short 
 as was the glimpse I caught of him, I thought I recognized 
 one of the men I had seen in the smithy. After what I 
 had heard and seen that night, the mere suspicion was 
 enough, and I turned and hurried on homewards again as 
 quick as my injured foot would let me, for the long walk I 
 had had was making it more and moro painful every 
 moment. 
 
 " Whether the man was really who I suspected him to 
 be, and meant foul play of some kind but had given it up 
 when he saw he was discovered, or whether he had only 
 happened to be coming up the road after me by accident, 
 I can't tell ; but I saw no more of him nor any one else 
 for the rest of the way home though something else 
 happened, as you'll hear. 
 
 "There was a low, thick gorse hedge skirting the road 
 for about fifty yards or so from Llewellyn's gateway, and 
 just as I was on the point of turning in at the gate I hoard 
 a rustle behind this hedge, and then I thought I heard 
 some one say in a whisper 
 
 "'That's him now.' 
 
 "I called out 'Who's there T and waited, but I heard 
 nothing 'cept the rustle of the wind among the hushes. 
 
 "I might have been mistaken, certainly, but it had 
 seemed too plain and distinct to be a mere womanish fancy,
 
 218 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 and if it had not been that I was anxious about little Floss, 
 I'd have gone and looked whether there was any one there 
 or no ; for, as I tell you, I had my own suspicions as to 
 what the talk could mean that I had overheard at the 
 blacksmith's. 
 
 " I wish now I had gone and looked, spite of all ; I 
 wish, by heaven, I'd been struck dead fighting with the 
 
 d thieves that were at the bottom of the villainy that 
 
 was afoot that night, I do for when next morning came I 
 had little left in the world to live for, as you'll see when I 
 come to it ; and maybe Llewellyn'd have believed I'd not 
 failed in my duty to him when I shed my heart's blood to 
 prove it. 
 
 " However, it was not to be. I closed and locked the 
 gate and tried to think no more about it, meaning to tell 
 Llewellyn what I had heard, first thing next morning. I 
 had to pass the stables on the way to my own quarters, 
 and though I knew Scythe-bearer couldn't have been 
 tampered with in the meantime for I carried the key of 
 his stall in my pocket I unlocked the door and looked in. 
 He was just as I had left him, and I closed and fastened 
 the door and came away again. 
 
 " I had lit the lamp in little Floss's room before setting 
 out the little thing was afraid to be left in the dark and 
 it was burning on the table beside her bed now with the 
 light turned low down. She had fallen asleep, and the 
 dim light shone over her face. It was flushed, and she 
 was restless, and kept tossing from side to side and mut- 
 tering in her sleep. I could see that even in the short 
 time I had been away the poor little soul was a good deal 
 
 worse I had opened the door very quietly for 
 
 fear of disturbing lior, and walked just as quietly across 
 the room. .But quiet an' all as I was she heard me, and 
 opened her eyes, and sat up, and stretched out her arms 
 for me to take her. She wouldn't rest until I held her in 
 my arms, so T took hor up and walked about the room with 
 her till midnight. She took some of the medicine I brought
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 219 
 
 her, and sunk into what seemed a sound sleep, so I laid her 
 softly down on the bed again. The hands of the clock, I 
 remember, were pointing to ten minutes to twelve as I sat 
 down beside her, quite tired out, what with the day's work 
 and the anxiety. 
 
 " I must have dropped off to sleep almost at once, for I 
 recollect nothing after that till I was woke up by a shrill 
 scream of fright from little Floss. The last stroke of 
 twelve was just sounding as I started up. In a half-dazed 
 way my mind took in the sound of heavy footsteps running 
 across the floor, and I caught a glimpse of the fingers of a 
 hand resting for a moment on the edge of the door, and 
 then the door was banged to. 
 
 " I felt in my pocket for the key of Scythe-bearer's stall. 
 It was gone. I had been robbeJ of it while I slept it 
 was the thief who had just made off out of the room. All 
 my fears for the horse's safety came back to my mind in 
 an instant, and I was about to rush after the man, when 
 little Floss gasped rather than called to me 
 
 " ' Father father come to me I feel so ill I think I 
 am dying.' 
 
 " Her voice was so faint and husky I could scarce make 
 out what she was saying. Weak and ill as she was, the 
 fright had been too much for her ; she seemed all of a 
 sudden to have sunk indeed well nigh to the point of death. 
 She fastened her eyes on my face I fancy I can see them 
 now and then they seemed to grow fixed and filmy ; she 
 pressed her hands to her temples so and fell back'nrd 
 
 and moaned There was a scurry of footsteps 
 
 on the stones in the yard outside. Everything hung on 
 that one moment. 1 knew that whatever the plot might 
 be that I had heard hinted at in the smithy, i< was <>n (ho 
 
 very point of being carried out I feared my 
 
 little girl was at death's door. Nature was strong. I 
 couldn't tear myself away from my dying child and yet 
 what was it that was going on outside only a few yards 
 from me? I sprang to her side, caught her in my arms and 
 
 P
 
 220 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 kissed her, then laid her gently down again, and pausing, 
 and stopping, and glancing back, I darted into the yard. 
 . . . . Too late ! The heavy stable door swung back ; 
 I made a mad dash for'ard and grappled with some one in 
 the dark ; there was a stunning shock, and I was sent back 
 gasping and staggering ; I heard a clatter of hoofs ; a 
 shower of sparks was struck up from the stones, and I 
 knew that Scythe-bearer, the favourite for the Cup, was 
 stolen. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " I heard little Floss calling to me to go to her, and sick 
 and miserable and desperate, I staggered rather than 
 walked into her room again 
 
 " I don't remember what it was she asked ; I don't 
 remember what it was I answered her. I only remember 
 taking her up in my arms again and walking about with 
 her through the night ; of her rambling in her talk, which 
 was always of the strange man she had seen bending over 
 me when she woke up ; and then of her growing quieter 
 and quieter and weaker and weaker ; and of her closing 
 her eyes and lying so still and breathing so low I didn't 
 know hardly whether it was sleep or death that had come 
 to her. I've passed many a troubled night since then, but 
 I pray God I may never pass such another night as that 
 was. 
 
 "There was no doctor within miles, and I was afraid 
 that if I went for one she would be dead before I could 
 get back again. I don't know what I might have done at 
 other times and with different surroundings, but I was 
 more than half stupefied that night. I had some thoughts 
 of going up to Llewellyn's room and asking him for God's 
 sake to help me save the life of my child. What held me 
 back was a fear partly for myself, but more for the sake 
 of little Floss a fear that when he found out what had 
 happened he would strike me dead where I stood. A-ah, I 
 knew his temper, and I knew he would be capable of it. 
 And so I walked for three weary hours about rny room
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 221 
 
 with iny child dying dying in niy arms, my love driving 
 me one way, and my stupid fear the other. 
 
 "About three o'clock I got into such a state that I 
 could bear myself no longer. I felt that I must do some- 
 thing more to save her precious life than I was doing, or 
 go mad. Poor Floss's breathing seemed, 1 thought, to 
 grow a little more regular and stronger, and I thought 
 there could be no danger if I left her for a minute or two. 
 I crept up to Llewellyn's room and knocked. A strange 
 voice that of the German who had been with him all the 
 afternoon asked 
 
 " ' Who's there ? ' 
 
 "Think me a coward if you will, but I felt my knees 
 shake and the sweat start on my forehead when I thought 
 of the risk I was running and of what I was about to 
 bring upon myself. I said 
 
 " ' I'm Riddock, the groom. I want to see my master.' 
 
 " ' What for ? ' asks the voice. ' What's the matter '? ' 
 
 " ' Something has happened/ I said. ' I want to see him 
 at once.' 
 
 " ' Your master has not been well,' answers the voice 
 again. 'He's asleep just now. Can't you wait till the 
 morning 1 ' 
 
 " Once the words had left my mouth my courage had 
 failed me again, and I seized on the excuse at once. 1 
 said 
 
 '"Very well, I'll tell him in the morning,' and crept 
 away down-stairs again, like the coward 1 was. 
 
 " 1 halted when I came to the threshold of Floss's 
 room. . . . The feeling had come upon me as I turned 
 away from Llewellyn's door. A voice from the air si-onu-d 
 to have spoken to iw. 
 
 " 1 feared that my little daughter was doad ! 
 
 " I could see her from where 1 stood, and her face, L 
 thought, seemed very white and still. 1 called to her 
 softly, but she didn't move. Then louder. She didn't 
 hear. I told myself she was asleep, that she was just as
 
 222 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 I had left her, and turned away and paced stupidly up and 
 down the yard a minute or two in the dim moonlight, and 
 tried to keep the fear that was taking possession of me at 
 arm's length. I told myself over and over again she was 
 
 asleep only asleep It was only for a moment 
 
 or two. Then I stole to the door and looked in again. 
 She hadn't moved. Her face lay upturned and white and 
 still as before, in the lamplight. Ah me, so deathly white 
 and still. I walked softly towards her bedside, and took 
 up the lamp, and held it so that the light played over her 
 face from every point. I tried, as a drowning man clutches 
 at a straw, to make myself believe that her expression 
 changed with the changing shadows the light threw over 
 her face but it wouldn't do. ' Oh, my God, my God ! ' I 
 whispered to myself, the terrible truth forcing itself on 
 me so that I couldn't even pretend to shut my eyes to it 
 any longer. ' Can it be true ? Can she have died in those 
 few minutes ] ' And then the light fell from my shaking 
 hand with a crash and went out, 
 
 " As sudden as a thunderbolt there came the clatter, 
 clatter, CLATTEE of a horse's hoofs on the pavement of the 
 yard, then the banging of a door, a sound between a sob 
 and a gasp ; then the room shook as something fell with a 
 heavy shock against the wall outside. 
 
 " It was Scythe-bearer conic back again. 
 
 " I sat still with never a thought of rushing out and 
 grappling with the thief. What had happened had un- 
 manned me. I trembled like a woman, and my hand 
 grasped little Floss's in the dark. It was cold and heavy. 
 I sat down holding those dead little fingers in one hand 
 
 and stroked them with the other, and waited 
 
 A minute or two [Kissed ; doors opened and closed ; I 
 heard the sound of footsteps and voices ; a beam of light 
 shone in through the keyhole of the door ; then some one 
 cried 
 
 " ' Great Heaven ! what is tin's ? Look here ! ' 
 
 "In a moment more the door of my room was thrown
 
 MATTHEW REPMAYNE. 223 
 
 open with a crash, and Llewellyn came in. He held a 
 lamp in his hand, and as its light fell over his face I saw 
 he was white as death ; his eyes were bloodshot, and he 
 was trembling with passion. 
 
 " ' Come here,' ho said, as if his rage would not let him 
 say more, and beckoning with his hand. I rose and 
 followed him into the yard as a whipped dog might follow 
 his master. ' Look at that ! ' he said, pointing downward 
 to something lying upon the ground. 'D'ye see it! That's 
 your work ! ' 
 
 " It was Scythe-bearer. He was lying in a heap against 
 the wall of the house. One of his fore-legs was doubled 
 under him ; his flanks were heaving and covered with 
 sweat and foam ; his head, stretched out to the full length 
 of lu's neck, lay over his other fore-leg, and he breathed in 
 short, heavy gasps. He was bleeding at the nostrils, 
 and there were splashes of blood on the stones around 
 him. 
 
 '"That's your work,' he said, again. 'That's the 
 favourite for the Cup. Look at it ; curse you, look at it.' 
 
 " I did look at it. I scarcely knew what was being said 
 to me, or what had happened, or what J was doing. I 
 looked at the German, who was peering about through his 
 spectacles. I looked up at the face of Llewellyn himself. 
 It had been white before ; it was red an 1 swollen now. 
 
 " ' How did this happen ? Where is the key I gave you ? ' 
 he said. 
 
 " ' It was stolen from me." 
 
 '"Stolen! When? How!' 
 
 "'To-night, at twelve. It was taken from me while I 
 was asleep.' 
 
 ' ; ' While you were asleep ! Did you not see the man 
 who took it, then 1 ' 
 
 " ' No, I don't know who it was ; but I know this it 
 was all the outcome of a plot to stop Scythe-bearer from 
 running to stop him from running even if lie had gone to 
 the post.'
 
 224 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 
 
 " ' A plot ! a plot,' he sneered. ' Is that all you have 
 to say for yourself ? A plot ! ' 
 
 " ' What,' said the German, ' a plot to make das horse a 
 lef'-at-the-poster 
 
 " ' If there was a plot, out with it, then, and let me hear 
 it,' said Llewellyn, fiercely, and I told him what I had over- 
 heard at Moffat's smithy. 
 
 "'If I thought I could believe this, now,' he said, 
 scowling blackly at me, as if he would look me through 
 and through, and then letting his eyes rest on the quiver- 
 ing brute at his feet. ' And you neither saw the man 
 when he took the key from you, nor when he rode out of 
 the stable 1 ' he said, raising his eyes again. ' What do you 
 think of this story, Trupp ? ' 
 
 " 'It might be true,' said the German, shaking his head. 
 ' It might be true. God knows.' 
 
 " ' Well ? ' said Llewellyn, looking towards me for my 
 answer, with the black scowl still on his face. 
 
 " ' I saw the man at neither time. It was dark 
 
 " ' Just then Scythe-bearer lifted up his head and 
 staggered to his feet, pushed his nose into Llewellyn's 
 hand, tottered forward a pace, and then, with a groan that 
 was almost human, poor brute, he fell down again with a 
 crash, shuddered, and was dead. I had never seen 
 Llewellyn affected by anything before, but he was touched 
 now by the death of his horse. He knelt down on one 
 knee and patted the animal's neck as gentle as a mother 
 might stroke the hair of her sick child. 
 
 " ' Ach,' said the German, peering down through his 
 spectacles, and shaking his head again, ' Ach.' 
 
 " ' The best friend I ever had, Trupp,' said Llewellyn, 
 looking up in the face of the German, and speaking with a 
 catch in his voice ' the best friend I ever had ; ' and then 
 with a sudden change of humour he cried, ' And there go 
 five thousand pounds with him, and through you, you d 
 negligent scoundrel.' 
 
 " He sprang to his feet and seized me by the throat. If
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 225 
 
 ever there was murder in a man's eyes I saw it in 
 Llewellyn's as he glared down at mo that night. He shook 
 me like a terrier would a rat, and when I clasped his wrists 
 to try and make him loose his grip his muscles felt like 
 bars of iron. I tried to cry for mercy as I was borne 
 back'ard, but nothing but a husky gasp came from my 
 throat. I saw the German leap forward and seize his arm ; 
 I saw his lips move, but what he said was drowned by the 
 roaring in my ears. 
 
 " The next thing I remember was waking up and feeling 
 some one hauling me along by the shoulders, with my heels 
 dragging over the stones of the yard. My things were 
 open around my neck, and I was cold and wet, as if water 
 had been thrown over me. A door was pushed open, and 
 I was carried in. It was quite dark, but though I was con- 
 fused by what had happened, and hardly realized what was 
 passing around me, I knew it was the room where little 
 Floss was lying dead. I didn't know whether it was the 
 German or Llewellyn who had been carrying me. Which- 
 ever it might have been, I felt it was like sacrilege for him 
 to be in that room, and I struggled to my feet and said, 
 ' That will do. Leave me, please ; I am better now.' The 
 man made no answer, and passed out of the room, and I 
 was left alone with my poor dead little daughter." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 "Axn that is absolutely all you know of what happened 
 that night?" asked the doctor, as the landlord I'mi.-hed his 
 story. 
 
 " Yes," said the landlord, " all ; and good reason I have 
 to remember it." 
 
 " You said something about Llewellyn turning you 
 away?" suggested the doctor, as delicately as he could.
 
 226 MATTHEW REDMA.YNE. 
 
 "Ay, and so he did. Llewellyn was a strange man. 
 He sent for me next morning, and without so much as 
 mentioning what had happened on the night before, or 
 allowing me to say a word in my own defence, he told me 
 I was turned away from my situation. He never had no 
 pity or consideration for other people, and he had none for 
 me. Neither the death nor the burial of my child, he said, 
 concerned him. I must make my own arrangements. One 
 thing he had made up his mind upon -I was to leave 
 instantly. I should not stay another day in a situation I 
 had proved myself unfit to hold." 
 
 ' ' Was there nothing in his behaviour that struck you as 
 unusual ? " 
 
 " Nothing, except that the heat of his passion seemed to 
 have worn itself out ; I had seen him on less provocation 
 than he had had then keep his passion for days so that one 
 scarce dare come anigh him." 
 
 " And did he take no steps to find out who it was that 
 carried out this villainous plot against him 1 " 
 
 " No," said the landlord, " nothing was ever done. There 
 was a talk made about it, but it come to nothing in the 
 end, and some thought one thing and some thought 
 another, but the truth of the matter is just what I've 
 told you." 
 
 "Did not Llewellyn's wife and mother come back to live 
 at Monk's Bridge very soon after this 1 " 
 
 " I believe they did, but I was not there when they came. 
 I knew Llewellyn's humour too well to stay an hour longer 
 than I could help. I made what arrangements I could, and 
 left at once." 
 
 " Perhaps you may have heard on what terms he and his 
 wife lived .after her return ? " 
 
 "Very unhappy," said the landlord, shaking his head, 
 "very unhappy, if all be true that I've heard. If he cared 
 little for her before, he cared less for her after, and they 
 lived mostly apart till her death." 
 
 " When did that happen 1 "
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 227 
 
 " As near as I can remember about ten or eleven months 
 after I was turned away." 
 
 " When you tried to stop the man who was riding out of 
 the yard, did you not see enough of him to give you an idea 
 who he was, or to help you to recognize him afterwards if 
 you had seen him 1 " 
 
 " I saw nothing of him either then or before ; and as to 
 who he was, unless it was the man who had been following 
 me on my way back from town, I don't know who it could 
 have been." 
 
 " You have no suspicion, at any rate, that it could have 
 been Llewellyn himself 1 " broke in Redmayne, impatiently. 
 
 The landlord had been following a floating black speck 
 round and round his glass with a spoon. lie paused, and 
 after an interval of speechless surprise, he said 
 
 " Llewellyn himself ! Llewellyn get up at midnight to 
 steal his own horse ! Llewellyn the man to throw five 
 thousand pounds into the street ! Llewellyn ruin one of 
 the best bits of horseflesh ever foaled in New Zealand ! " 
 and, unable to cany the proposition any further, the 
 landlord went back to the black speck again. 
 
 lledruayne felt annoyed at his own question as soon as it 
 had left his lips, and his annoyance was increased when ho 
 caught the expression on the doctor's face. 
 
 "There is nothing more that we want, T think," he said, 
 and they rose by common consent to go. 
 
 "Nothing, unless you can tell us whore wo are likely to 
 find the man Trupp," said the doctor. 
 
 " I know nothing of him," said the landlord. " I have 
 never heard of him since." 
 
 " Well, Mat," said Doctor Oarmichaol, as they walked 
 along the road towards Wellington together, "you have 
 Llewellyn's whereabouts on the night of the murder 
 accounted for so far ; and now, which is it Are we a stop 
 nearer the solution of our problem, or a step the other 
 way 1 On my life 1 don't know which to think."
 
 228 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "Tell me who rode Scythe-bearer that night, and I'll 
 tell you who killed Edgar Stadding," said Redmayne, with 
 dogged conviction. " And tell me whether the landlord of 
 the Truss o' Straw is a conscienceless liar, or whether we 
 have to deal with the cunningest villain in all New Zealand, 
 and I'll solve the next step, and tell you who rode Scythe- 
 bearer too." 
 
 "Oh, the man spoke the truth it was impossible to 
 listen to him and not believe he was speaking the truth. 
 Let's hear what you think, Mat. You have made up your 
 mind as to who rode Scythe-bearer, and as to why he was 
 ridden?" 
 
 "I have." 
 
 " And it was ? " 
 
 " Llewellyn himself ! " 
 
 " H'm ; you say that after taking into consideration all 
 the points of the groom's story 1 " 
 
 "Yes, all of them." 
 
 " In spite of what the groom overheard in the smithy? " 
 
 " Yes, in spite of that." 
 
 " And of his being followed, and of the key being stolen 
 from him ? " 
 
 " Yes, in spite of that." 
 
 " And of the five thousand pounds in hard cash? " 
 
 " In spite of everything, I tell you. The plot to prevent 
 the horse from running may have existed, the groom may 
 have been followed home and watched from behind the 
 hedge, and by the death of his horse Llewellyn may have 
 lost all the money he is represented as having lost. But 
 my belief is that Llewellyn deliberately set his gain 
 against his loss, and sacrificed Scythe-bearer, with his 
 possible winnings and everything else, for the sake of 
 revenging himself on Stadding." 
 
 "Ay, Mat," said the doctor, nodding his head sagely, 
 " and there speaks prejudice rather than reason, I am 
 afraid. What you say is feasible enough in one sense, but 
 I must admit this story of the groom's has to some extent
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 220 
 
 unsettled my belief in Llewellyn's guilt. It seems to me 
 we have been too hasty in jumping to conclusions. You 
 are losing sight of the fact we are both losing sight of the 
 fact that only a few hours before his death Stadding 
 really was being closely followed by the woman who of all 
 people in the world had the keenest desire to be rovenged 
 on him 
 
 " Yes, yes, the finding of the ring, the stain on the 
 dress, and all the accursed rigmarole that came out in 
 the Court. Are we to go over the whole ground again ? 
 Don't you and I know how false was the whole thing," 
 said Redmayne, with a touch of bitterness at the doubtful 
 tone of the doctor's words. 
 
 "False in one sense only, let us remember; for strong 
 as the facts seemed against Esther, you and I know they 
 are ten times stronger in the case of Catherine. It was 
 morally impossible for Esther to have committed the crime 
 of deliberate murder, but not so her sister ; she was insane, 
 had expressed the intention of killing Stadding, and had 
 been put through the mechanical training of the part time 
 and again on the sta 
 
 " Why, only an hour or two ago," burst in Redmayne, 
 " you had proved quite to your own satisfaction 
 
 " Hear me out. I am not forgetting the conviction we 
 arrived at this morning ; at the same time I am just as far 
 from forgetting it was not absolute Revelation. It is just 
 possible we may both have been wrong after all. Here is 
 quite a new complexion given to affairs, and as thinking 
 men we must give it reasonable consideration. If what 
 the German said in reply to the groom's inquiry for his 
 master is true, it is plainly impossible that Llewellyn can 
 have been in any way concerned in Stadding's death. Ix;t 
 us bo rational, in spite of or, rather, because of the 
 stake you yourself have at issue. Let us follow this thing 
 out with reasonable hopes of success only. What I was 
 going to say was this we have already admitted to 
 ourselves that it is hard to see how Llewellyn's suspicions
 
 230 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 could be roused by a letter which his mother considered a 
 mere commonplace communication. Very well. Further 
 than that we must now believe that those suspicions were 
 strong enough to lead him to sacrifice one of the most 
 valuable race-horses in the island, with all the possible 
 thousands that were depending on that horse ; that in the 
 space of an hour or two he worked up an elaborate plot to 
 avert suspicion from himself ; and that he deceived his 
 groom by a piece of consummate stage-acting after he 
 returned from his midnight ride." 
 
 " Exactly what I do believe it only requires a little 
 low cunning. As to the stealing of the key - You must 
 have noticed in listening to what the landlord said how 
 closely Llewellyn questioned him as to whether he saw or 
 had any idea as to who the man was who took the key. 
 As for the groom's little daughter saying something about 
 a strange man, why, any child in such a situation might 
 very easily be deceived by her imagination." 
 
 " Granted, granted, granted," said the doctor in a 
 descending scale. " I simply want to look at both sides 
 of the case, and put probabilities against other proba- 
 bilities. Now that I have done so I am prepared to go 
 more than half length with you ; only don't let us lose 
 sight of the difficulties in our way. Above all, don't let us 
 forget that if our conclusion of this morning is in point of 
 fact the correct one, and if what we have just heard is the 
 truth, we have, in your OAvn words, the cunningest villain 
 in all New Zealand to deal with." 
 
 " Well, well, doctor, as I told you before, I am better at 
 sticking to old opinions than at making up new ones, and 
 I stick to the decision I have already come to. I don't see 
 this new complexion you say affairs have taken on them- 
 selves at all. I've made up my mind that Llewellyn is the 
 guilty man. It is my dearest interest in life to establish 
 his guilt, and what is more established his guilt shall be 
 if it can be done by two strong hands and a brain of which 
 perhaps the less said the better ; yes, cunning and all as
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYXE. 231 
 
 he may be. He may fight with the halter round his neck ; 
 but I fight with my wife's arms round mine." 
 
 " Then you are under circumstances of the most perfect 
 equality, Mat. But another thing Lowry Bay is not a 
 t>tone's-throw from here, remember. Scythe-bearer was 
 stolen at twelve o'clock at night, and came back again at 
 three in the morning. Now, it is hardly possible that 
 the journey there and back could be performed in three 
 hours." 
 
 " Hardly possible to ordinary horse-flesh, perhaps, but 
 still possible ; and Llewellyn knew that probably even 
 better than we do, and, Turpin-like, tries to make the 
 thing incredible by means of the speed of his horse. If 
 suspicion had happened to rest upon him, what better plea 
 could he set up than that you have just mentioned ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, like enough, like enough," assented the 
 doctor. " But look you here, Mat, if Llewellyn does turn 
 out to be the author of Stadding's death, be sure of one 
 thing it was not jealousy that furnished the motive." 
 
 " Not jealousy ! If there is one thing clearer to m 
 
 " Not jealousy, Mat, I repeat," said the doctor, deliber- 
 ately. " 1 thought so myself at first. I don't think so 
 now. He was not fond enough of his wife to bo jealous ; 
 or, if jealous, not jealous to the extent of live thousand 
 pounds not jealous enough to go the length he did. If 
 I have learned nothing else from the groom's story, I 
 have learned that. Mark what 1 say : if you ever get to 
 the truth of this affair you will find it turns upon some- 
 thing very different from what you expect." 
 
 "Don't speak in oracles, for Heaven's sake, doctor. If 
 you know anything let us hear what it is." 
 
 " 1 know no more than you <lo, so far as knowing goes. 
 But I have done what you haven't : I've put two and two 
 together, and suspect a great deal more. One thing is 
 evident enough to me : Llewellyn loved his horse, but he 
 most certainly did not love his wife, and he would not have 
 sacrificed the one thing he did love for the woman he was
 
 232 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 
 
 within measurable distance of hating. You will find the 
 key to the whole complication, it's my belief, when you 
 find out the meaning of Amelia Llewellyn's words to her 
 mother-in-law 'Take care how you deal with two faces 
 when they belong to different people, especially when those 
 faces are female faces.' These words, be sure, point to 
 some hidden fact in Llewellyn's life ; they have their 
 significance, and t when you have found out what that 
 significance is, you will find the tangled skein unravel in 
 your hands possibly have Llewellyn in your power. The 
 one thing wanting, Mat the one thing wanting is a 
 glance into the correspondence that passed between Stad- 
 ding and Amelia Llewellyn the correspondence that 
 Sarah Bundle burned on the day of the murder. One 
 glance at that, and mystery as it may have been to the old 
 lady, I would read you the riddle to some purpose." 
 
 "That being impossible, we must do the one remaining 
 thing, that's all, and hunt up this man Trupp, who slept 
 at Monk's Bridge that night, and get what information we 
 can from him." 
 
 "I don't anticipate anything from it; still, I suppose 
 that is the only thing to do, but we must expect to have a 
 very different witness to deal with in him from Sarah 
 Bundle or the landlord of the Truss o' Straw. We have 
 some reason to believe he has told one lie already on the 
 subject, and if he really is in Llewellyn's confidence, you 
 may rely upon it he will either be prepared with more lies, 
 or else refuse us information altogether." 
 
 " The prospects are not the most cheering, certainly, but, 
 as I say, we must make the best we can out of them. 
 Next to Llewellyn himself he is the man who knows most 
 of what happened that night, and it will he strange if we 
 can't extract enough from him to help us to arrive at some 
 
 more or less definite conclusion I tell 
 
 you what, doctor," Redmayne went on, with fierce im- 
 patience, " I feel my blood beginning to rise. This stealthy 
 mining and counter-mining, and cut and thrust in the
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 233 
 
 dark, is .not to my taste. I wish I knew this Llewellyn 
 I wish I might meet him in the street and take him by 
 the throat and wring the truth out of him." 
 
 They had entered Wellington by this time. A thin 
 drizzling rain had begun to fall, and the wet, slippery, 
 black-looking pavement reflected the light of the street 
 lamps in long shimmering Alines of brightness. As he 
 spoke, Redmayne felt the doctor's hand close around his 
 arm, and heard the doctor's voice say, ' ' Look ! as I live, 
 that is he now, in front of us ! " A man's figure had 
 turned out of one of the side streets from the direction of 
 the Railway Station, and halting beneath a street lamp, 
 commenced fumbling with his cloak. He took out three or 
 four letters from one of his pockets, and as Redmayne and 
 Doctor Carmichael came up to him, he was holding them up 
 to the light to read the addresses, selected one and put it 
 by itself, placed the others in an inner pocket, buttoned 
 his cloak around him again, and passed on. Redmayne 
 and the doctor followed him. The doctor seemed to regard 
 the wish Kedinayne had just uttered in a very literal sense, 
 for he kept his hand clasped tightly around his friend's 
 arm throughout their progress through the sleeping town. 
 The wind was rising, and was sweeping along the silent 
 length of the streets in heavy gusts, and the drizzle soon 
 became a thick, steady downpour. Llewellyn halted before 
 a house where alone of all the buildings in the street a 
 light was burning in the window. Redmayne and the 
 doctor paused only long enough to see him let himself in 
 by means of a latchkey, and then retraced their steps 
 towards their respective hotels. 
 
 "You might have noticed a two-storeyed building with 
 a balcony directly opposite the house that Llewellyn 
 entered 1 " observed the doctor, as they turned away. 
 
 " I did ; I made a note of it as a landmark to guide 
 me in the future," said Redmayne, significantly. 
 
 " Well, particular friends of mine live in that house, and 
 it is just possible
 
 234 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "You may gain some information from them," said 
 Redmayne, quickly. "Quite right, doctor, there is not a 
 point in the game we can afford to lose. But first of all 
 we must find out this man Trupp, and gain what we can 
 from him. We must not let the grass grow under our feet 
 now we have gone so far." 
 
 " We must not, indeed. But there is one thing that 
 prevents me giving the assistance I would like to give, and 
 which I believe I could give." 
 
 " And that is ? " said Redmayne, as the doctor hesitated. 
 
 "That is an opportunity to look through the diary your 
 wife sent you, if you will let me. I want to go to the 
 
 fountain head There is more in this affair than I can 
 
 grasp with information given at second-hand." 
 
 " And more than we can afford to sacrifice for the sake 
 of a little false delicacy. You shall have the diary as soon 
 as I can get it sent over, doctor. I will write home to 
 Ellen for it to-night. And now here we are at your hotel. 
 Good-night." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 EARLY the next morning the doctor called upon Redmayne 
 at his rooms. 
 
 "Well," he said, "what of the whereabouts of Trupp? 
 have you looked up your Directory?" 
 
 " I have. The only Trupp mentioned there lives in 
 Auckland, I find. It is an uncommon name, and I expect 
 it's the same man." 
 
 " Yes. I'm inclined to think so. But let us have no 
 more jumping to conclusions after last night. The question 
 is now, what are we to do?" 
 
 Redmayne, nothing if not prompt, already had a port- 
 manteau partly packed; he looked up in surprise at the 
 doctor's question. He had settled what was to be done,
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 235 
 
 as far as that went, the moment he saw the entry in the 
 Directory. 
 
 " Dol Why, there's only one thing we can do," he said, 
 with a dumb appeal to the gaping portmanteau. " We 
 settled that last night." 
 
 "We didn't know then that we would have to look 
 outside Wellington for our man though, and even if it be 
 the right man, which remains to be proved, it would be 
 some days before we could be back in town again, and 
 Llewellyn should not be lost sight of in the meantime. It 
 would be better if one of us went to Auckland in quest of 
 Trupp, and one stayed here to watch Llewellyn." 
 
 " Yes, a good idea," assented Redmayne, nodding. 
 " There is no telling where he may shape his course for 
 twenty-four hours hence. I leave it with you, doctor ; 
 what do you think ? " 
 
 " I think if you can trust yourself to keep your hands 
 off Llewellyn meanwhile, it would be better if I went on 
 to Auckland, and you remained here. Another thing, my 
 friends the Hawkshaws you remember that two-storeyed 
 house that I pointed out to you last night have a couple 
 of rooms to let. Suppose you were to shift your quarters 
 from here and take those rooms till we could settle what 
 further we should <1o, when we have earned the result of 
 my journey to Auckland ? You could act the private 
 detective to perfection while you smoked your cigar on the 
 b.ilcony of a day. You won't have packed your portmanteau 
 for nothing after all." 
 
 "Agreed. Anything that throws Llewellyn across my 
 path. To live over the way is so much nearer to coming 
 within arm's length of him ; and that will come sooner or 
 later, doctor, mark my words. Ours is a chain of three 
 links, and we've reached the last of them in this man 
 Trupp." 
 
 "That's more than either of us can say, my dear fellow. 
 It was Sarah Bundle's story that made you seek out the 
 groom, and the groom's that has made us seek out Trupp. 
 
 Q
 
 236 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Who shall say what the fourth step may be ? In all proba- 
 bility when I come back, we'll only find we've climbed one 
 hill to see another beyond it. By the way, did you write 
 to Levuka last night for the diary, as you promised ? " 
 
 " I did, the letter is in one of my pockets waiting for the 
 post at this moment." 
 
 " Come with me, then, and let me introduce you to the 
 Hawkshaws at once. You can post it on the way. I think 
 you will like the Hawkshaws when you get used to them. 
 There are five of them. The two old people, and Edith, 
 Miriam, and Theodore who, I may tell you for your 
 guidance, is looked upon by the rest of the family as a 
 genius, and whom the rest of the family expect other people 
 to look upon as a genius too. But I will leave you to form 
 your own opinion of them when you come to know them." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hawkshaw and their son were the only 
 members of the family at home when the doctor and 
 Kedmayne called. The rooms were very conveniently 
 situated for Redmayne's purpose one of them opening on 
 to the balcony and satisfactory arrangements were speedily 
 made with Mr. Theodore, who represented the family in 
 all business transactions. Mr. Theodore was an artist, and 
 presented himself with a much-used painter's palette and 
 brush in his hand, and a look of artistic abstraction on his 
 face. He had all the appearance of a genius. His smoking- 
 cap had lost its tassel, his dressing-gown was threadbare, 
 the front of his waistcoat was smeared with paint stains, 
 and his slippers were very much down at the heels. 
 
 " You come upon me, Mr. Redmayne," he said, " in a 
 careless moment. I am an artist, you observe, and am at 
 present engaged on a work which takes up so much of my 
 time, that I know I am prone to neglect myself. 
 
 " Indeed," he went on, working the tip of his brush 
 round and round in a dab of moist colour on his palette, 
 " the time of every one of us is almost entirely taken up 
 now. The fact is, doctor you know my old leaning that
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 237 
 
 way the fact is, I have written a play, and a little company 
 of friends are about to perform it." 
 
 " And you have the old difficulty about filling the parts," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " And we have the old difficulty about filling the parts," 
 assented Mr. Theodore, with a wave of his paletto. 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Male or female 1 " 
 
 " Well, both, as a matter of fact. There are two small 
 male parts vacant we are rehearsing without them and 
 a female part at present filled by a young lady who is 
 doubtful whether she will not be called away a day or two 
 before the time if a certain contingency in the family 
 happens. And of course it's a moral certainty that the 
 contingency ivill happen and she will be called away." 
 
 "Miriam?" suggested the doctor, tentatively. 
 
 Theodore shook his head. 
 
 " Miriam, doctor, is dead against anything of the kind. 
 She has a quarrel with even the most harmless religious 
 novel, inasmuch as it assumes actuality. Her rigid idea 
 of what candour imposes would require a novelist to put 
 'on'y s'pose ' before every chapter. And as for plays 
 No, Miriam is hopeless, and Edith has doubled her part 
 already." 
 
 " And what of the play itself ? " 
 
 "The play itself," said the genius, returning to the dab 
 of paint again, " is, as 1 have said, an original play my 
 own. I've shown it to several friends, but, liko most other 
 people, you know -" and Theodore shrugged his shoulders 
 and left his sentence unfinished. 
 
 The doctor shook his head sympathetically. 
 
 "Nothing so unsatisfactory as criticism. Theodore," he 
 said "nothing so unsatisfactory as criticism." 
 
 "That's what I find," said Theodore. " One falls foul of 
 my method of arrangement, another is prepared to swear I 
 have filched whole scenes from other dramatists." 
 
 "Other dramatists ? Tl'in, Inn."
 
 238 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " People are so apt to forget that in these times, when 
 all the stories have been told, that however truly original 
 a production may be so far as the writer is concerned, and 
 as my play is, it is hardly possible for it to be new : it is 
 quite impossible, I believe, to write anything of which a 
 segment will not coincide with the segment of what some- 
 body else has written before you." 
 
 " The moral of which is 1 " 
 
 "Why, I suppose," replied Theodore, with a laugh, "that 
 what we call Original Production should cease, that a 
 Trinity of Shakespeare, Bacon, and Milton should be set 
 up, and that we should fall down and worship." 
 
 "But as for you, you'll publish right or wrong." 
 
 " I feel that that kind of treatment is unjust and absurd 
 when it goes the length of condemning a man's play, as 
 mine has been, for the simple reason that it happens to 
 have a balcony scene in it. Surely the balcony is not to be 
 tabooed and appropriated to Shakespeare to all eternity 
 because he has used it prominently in a prominent play." 
 
 " Surely not," assented the doctor, " or what would 
 become of the 'other dramatists']" 
 
 " If the same principle were applied a little more widely, 
 what would become of them ? Now, my play naturally 
 led up to a balcony ; I conceived a balcony ; I introduced 
 a balcony ; and, by heaven, doctor," cried the excited play- 
 wright, grasping his palette like a shield and his brush 
 like a dagger, "I've as much right to use that balcony 
 as I have to use the one we are standing on at the present 
 moment." 
 
 " I agree with you, Theodore, I agree with you," said 
 the doctor, with a keen appreciation of his own humour. 
 " When a man's play naturally leads up to a balcony, and 
 he conceives a balcony, and introduces a balcony, by heaven 
 he has as much right to his balcony as all the William 
 Shakespeares and puling llomeos and Juliets that ever 
 breathed in England or Verona. You have a good view 
 of your neighbour across the street from here, too, I notice."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 230 
 
 " Yes, yes ; but to return to my play. Perhaps you 
 would like to see it ? " 
 
 " I have promised myself that pleasure, Theodore. When 
 do you intend to produce it ? " 
 
 " I meant," said the author, with the mendicant air of 
 people who keep plays about them in manuscript, and with 
 a return for the third time to the modest refuge on hLs 
 palette, " that perhaps you would like to see it in 
 in MS." 
 
 " I should like it of all things, Theodore ; but 1 am 
 starting almost immediately for Auckland, and it is doubt- 
 ful how long I may be detained. But if, as I say, you 
 could let me know when you think of producing it 
 
 " About three weeks from now, I hope, if all goes well. 
 I want as many rehearsals as possible, for some of the little 
 company are very slow in grasping the significance of their 
 parts very slow." 
 
 " Three weeks, very well," said the doctor, feeling that 
 much might happen in three weeks, "if I can find an 
 opportunity between then and now, I shall be very pleased 
 to see the play ; and meanwhile, Theodore, I shall consider 
 myself commissioned to press into your service any eligible 
 young lady I can prevail upon to take this vacant part ; 
 though I haven't an idea what the requirements of the part 
 are, by the way." 
 
 "Whoever she may be, she won't have moiv Ihan a 
 dozen or twenty lines to say throughout, and 1 have made 
 them very simple. Any one of ordinary intelligence will 
 do. The title of the piece, I may tell you, is Tliv Lorer, the 
 Lock, and the Larder." 
 
 " I understand : humorous with a policeman in it." 
 
 " Well, if my title suggests that," said the playwright, 
 with a restrained severity in eye and voice, '' all T can say 
 is that the title is unfortunate, and shall be changed. 
 That the play should contain humour a refined humour, 1 
 trust was the end I placed before myself, certainly, but I 
 found no necessity to introduce a policeman."
 
 240 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 " But, bless my soul, Theodore, policemen are occasionally 
 introduced 
 
 " Yes, I'm aware of it," said Theodore, showing an 
 inclination to break off the conversation and return to his 
 picture, " with a clown and a harlequin to keep them, 
 company. In my case I have endeavoured to write a Play, 
 not a Christmas pantomime. But I shall take care that the 
 title shall be changed." 
 
 " Theodore is not a bad fellow at bottom," said the 
 doctor, when he and liedmayne had left the house, and 
 speaking with an impartiality that plainly cost him an 
 effort, " but he resembles the rest of the authors as a tad- 
 pole resembles a frog. I never discussed picture, story, 
 play, or poem with him yet and he produces each with 
 equal readiness, the young egotist without having more 
 or less of a quarrel with him over it. Him and his balcony 
 scene ! However, the lodgings will do capitally ; that's one 
 consideration." 
 
 " Capitally," said Redmayne, "though there's that play 
 in manuscript I know what it will be. He'll read it to 
 me or make me read it, and I know no more about the 
 merits of a play than I do about Sanskrit."
 
 PART VII. 
 
 THE NIGHT OF THE ELEVENTH JUNE. 
 XXIX. 
 
 THERE had been a ring at Herr Trupp's door, and a card 
 bearing the name of Doctor Carmichael had been pnt into 
 the herr's hand. He was always known as the herr, 
 though he had lived so long among English people, and 
 had become so Anglicized in his ways of late years, that it 
 almost amounted to eccentricity for him to retain it in his 
 name now ; but he did retain it, partly as a mark of his 
 nationality, which he was loth to give up, and partly 
 because this is an age of advertisements. 
 
 "Doctor Carmichael, Doctor Carmichacl?" ho said (o 
 himself vaguely, as he looked at the card. " I don't know 
 the name. However, show him in." 
 
 An epoch had arrived in the herr's life. Ho was an 
 enthusiastic paleontologist, and had only lately published 
 a pamphlet with a theory on moa bones. It had not 
 attracted any attention as yet, but ever since tin- time it 
 had fallen dead-born from the Press, the herr had dwelt in 
 daily expectation that every ring at his door was the ring 
 of some intelligent reader who had been struck by his 
 pamphlet and its theory, and had come to discuss it with 
 him. lie had been disappointed times out of number, but 
 he entertained the same expectation just as strongly as 
 ever again at that moment. . . . 
 
 He shook his head as he received the doctor, for the
 
 242 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 latter's mission had had its effect upon the expression of 
 his face and it was not that of an enthusiastic paleonto- 
 logist. " Alas," he said to himself for the fiftieth time, 
 " another disappointment ; this is not the man to discuss a 
 work like my pamphlet." 
 
 "I dare say, sir," said the visitor, striking abruptly into 
 the business that had brought him there, " that you will be 
 surprised at this intrusion on the part of a stranger all 
 the more so when I say I have come all the way from 
 Wellington with no other object in view than this visit." 
 
 " Wellington," thought the herr, whose inscrutable 
 vanity contrived to put a favourable construction on this 
 unusual introduction for no other reason than that it was 
 unusual ; " it must be my pamphlet after all. How little 
 one knows how far one's name may spread," and he began 
 to think he must have been mistaken in his estimate of his 
 visitor, and to take his uncompromising stare for the kindly 
 
 interest of a mind in touch with his own "I am 
 
 very pleased, I'm sure," he said, pressing his glasses back 
 to a genial focus with his finger and thumb. 
 
 " I am engaged in an investigation in which I am sure 
 you can be of the greatest assistance to me." .... 
 And the visitor's eyes added as plain as eyes could add, 
 " But in which I know it will be against your will to help 
 me ; but I am prepared to overcome that will ; " and again 
 the herr misunderstood the dumb language of his visitor's 
 eyes, and hugged the belief that it really was his pamphlet. 
 
 " It is a question of paleontology, perhaps," said the 
 herr. 
 
 "It is a question of murder," said the visitor. 
 
 The herr suddenly collapsed behind his spectacles, and 
 threw himself back so violently that his chair creaked 
 again. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! A question of murder ! And you 
 come to me ! What do I know of it ? " 
 
 "It is a question of murder," repeated the uncompromis- 
 ing visitor, " and I have come to you because you know all
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 243 
 
 about it. I refer to the murder of Edgar Stadding by 
 your friend Llewellyn at Lowry Bay, on the llth of June, 
 1886." 
 
 Doctor Carmichael leaned forward, the better to observe 
 the effect of his carefully premeditated shot. There was 
 no mistaking the expression that overspread the face of 
 the herr. It was one of blank, hopeless bewilderment, and 
 nothing more. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the visitor, before the herr 
 could collect himself sufficiently to answer ; his eyes taking 
 upon themselves a new look, and his voice a new tone. " I 
 have surprised you. I have been too abrupt. I should 
 have explained myself." 
 
 "I certainly do not understand to what you refer," 
 murmured the herr, helplessly. 
 
 "Think for a moment, please. Jt is three years now 
 since the event took place. Do you not remember staying 
 at Monk's Bridge one night, and what happened there I " 
 
 " You mean the night the horse Scythe-bearer died." 
 
 " That was the night. Do you not remember anything 
 besides the death of .Scythe-bearer ? " 
 
 The heir's mind went through a process that was not 
 thought, and which ended in si shake of the head. The old 
 shade of suspicion came over the face of Doctor Carmichael 
 again, and he put on a look of keen scrutiny that made 
 puckers on each temple. 
 
 " May I ask if you are able to say whether Mr. Llewellyn 
 left the house that night between the hours of twelve at 
 night and three in the morning 1 " 
 
 " I have not the slightest conception of your motive, but 
 I can say with absolute certainty that he did not leave the 
 house between the hours you mention." 
 
 (" You unconscionable liar ! ;> said the visitor's eyes.) 
 
 " I am afraid the time that has elapsed has impaired 
 your memory of the circumstance," translated the lips. 
 
 The usually bland spectacles of the herr flashed in the 
 sunlight.
 
 244 MATTHEW HEDMAYNE. 
 
 " No," he said; "now you mention it I recall the occasion 
 perfectly. My friend Llewellyn did not leave the house 
 that night or rather that morning till he led the way 
 down to the stable- yard with me, and there we found my 
 friend's horse lying at his last gasp upon the stones. The 
 poor brute had been done to death by some miscreant 
 during the night. But you spoke just now of an explana- 
 tion," said the herr, recollecting himself, " and when you 
 connect the name of my friend with a crime in the way 
 you have done, you will pardon me if I say that this 
 conversation can go no further till that explanation is 
 forthcoming." 
 
 The doctor held his walking-stick clasped in both hands, 
 bent into a half -circle across his knee, and his knee raised 
 in front of him. The herr had pushed his spectacles on to 
 his forehead with the motion of Ivanhoe closing his visor 
 in the lists at Ashby. Dr. Carmichael had always given 
 himself some credit for a degree of skill in reading faces, 
 and he told himself that if ever he had seen a human face 
 which was unconscious of hiding anything in the shape of 
 a guilty secret, it was surely the one before him now. As 
 for the herr, he only saw the reddish face of a very common- 
 place, uninteresting gentleman, calling himself a doctor, 
 who had not only insulted him through his friend, but who 
 had never even so much as seen his pamphlet, and who 
 would not have had enough intelligence to read it if he 
 had seen it. 
 
 " I am aware my conduct must have seemed un- 
 accountable in a stranger," .said the doctor at last, relaxing 
 his stick and his mental attitude at the same time, arid iny 
 only excuse is the peculiar position in which I am placed. 
 My, let us say, curiosity has been very powerfully aroused 
 as to what actually took place at Monk's Bridge on the 
 night I have mentioned, and it was because I had reason 
 to believe you would be able to assist me in arriving at the 
 truth that I called upon you to-day." (He would have 
 stopped his meagre explanation at that point had he been
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 24-5 
 
 permitted, but the herr still fronted him with close-shut 
 lips and visor raised, and so plainly waiting for something 
 further, that he had no alternative but to go on.) " You 
 will remember that a murder was committed that night 
 a man named Edgar Staddiug being the victim, and a girl 
 being arrested and tried as the perpetrator. Events into 
 which I am not at liberty to enter but which you may be 
 assured have given me every right to prosecute the inquiry 
 you see me engaged in have occurred, which cause me to 
 entertain very serious doubts as to that girl's guilt " 
 
 " And which, on the other hand, cause you to suspect 
 that it was my friend Llewellyn who actually did the 
 deed?" 
 
 " Well, if you put it that plainly yes." 
 
 " I am glad you have been so unreserved with me ; I 
 shall try and be equally so with you. It would have been 
 better if you had said this at first. I was with Llewellyn 
 not only during the afternoon of that day, but during the 
 whole of the night as well, and whatever information I 
 have is entirely at your service ; for, if you once learn the 
 truth, I am happy to say you will no longer entertain the 
 shadow of a suspicion against my friend." 
 
 "You will pardon my questioning you somewhat closely?" 
 
 " Pray have no scruples on that score. I run appreciate 
 your position perfectly, and have but the one desire to 
 help you, and to remove from your mind your suspicions 
 of my friend : the more closely you may question the more 
 thoroughly will his character be cleared." 
 
 "My lirst question you have already answered when you 
 tell me that Mr. Llewellyn did not leave Monk's Bridge 
 on the night of the eleventh June. May I ask what is 
 the evidence which makes you so certain on this point 
 for in proving that, you prove all I" 
 
 "The evidence of my own senses. We slept in the 
 same room ; his bed was not two yards from mine. I was 
 awake the whole of the night, and could see him any time 
 between the hours you mention."
 
 246 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 "And did see him?" 
 
 " And did see him," said the herr, nodding his head with 
 slow emphasis, and tapping his fingers on the table beside 
 him. " I can say with absolute certainty that he did not 
 once leave the room on the night of the eleventh June 
 from the first moment of his entering it." 
 
 For the fourth time Doctor Carmichael's eyes scanned 
 the herr's face ; for the fourth time he formulated the 
 doubt that had been floating through his mind during the 
 whole interview, Is this man telling me the truth ? and 
 for the fourth time the frank and open face of the herr 
 all the more frank and open because his spectacles were 
 on his forehead and not in front of his eyes disarmed his 
 suspicions. . . . " Yes," said the doctor to himself, "it 
 is possible for a villain to have an honest man for his 
 friend." 
 
 " From the first moment of his entering it," repeated the 
 herr, deliberately, this time reading aright the hesitancy 
 and questioning in the doctor's eyes. " Perhaps you will 
 understand more clearly if I tell you all that happened 
 that night. I went to my room some time before my 
 friend. He had been reading a letter which I had seen 
 put into his hand that afternoon by a girl as we stood 011 
 the platform of the Wellington Railway Station 
 
 " Did he say anything that would indicate the nature of 
 the contents of that letter did he appear impressed by it 
 in any unusual way ? " 
 
 " Not in any way by the letter itself, I should say. He 
 merely glanced through it, and then tore it up and threw 
 the pieces in the fire. But there was a note with the 
 letter, which I thought seemed to affect him differently." 
 
 "In what way 1 ?" 
 
 The herr hesitated a moment, as if lie thought his visitor 
 was presuming on a too literal observance of his purpose to 
 question somewhat closely, remembered the character of 
 his friend was at stake, and went on 
 
 " Before I answer that, I must say, in justice to my
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 24? 
 
 friend, that I can only tell you what appeared to me to be 
 the case, rather than what may have been the case in 
 reality : I thought his face paled, and that his hand shook. 
 He certainly seemed agitated, and commenced pacing about 
 the room." 
 
 "He said nothing as to what the note contained 1 ?" 
 
 "No, he did not," said the lierr, drily; "and, knowing 
 his humour, I judged it best to leave him, and went up to 
 my, or rather our, room accordingly. That would be 
 about half past nine. It was between an hour and an hour 
 and a half after that, when Llewellyn came into the room." 
 
 " Eleven o'clock." 
 
 "About eleven o'clock. The room was lighted by a 
 night lamp, and he had turned the flame down and blown 
 it out just before getting into bed, when he seemed to 
 remember something. I heard him feeling about among 
 the things on the table, and muttering to himself ; and 
 presently he asked 
 
 " ' Have you any matches, Trupp? I've mislaid mine ?' 
 
 " I gave him my box, and he lit the lamp again, and 
 poured some colourless liquid from a phial into a wine-glass, 
 and tossed it off, saying, ' Well, here's to Scythe-bearer's 
 chance in the Cup.' His eyes, I thought, had grown un- 
 naturally bright, and his face very worn and pale since I 
 had left him ; but I knew how much depended on his 
 winning the Cup race, and I thought that the nervous 
 strain was proving too much for him. 
 
 " ' Nerves ? ' I said. 
 
 " ' Yes, nerves,' he answered. 
 
 " ' Not breaking down already, I hope?' 
 
 " He shook his head. 
 
 " ' Something very like it, Trupp. I feel wretchedly 
 weak and ill to-night.' 
 
 " He placed the phial and the wine-glass near the lamp, 
 as if he intended to use them again during the niht, 
 turned down the flame so that it only cast a dim light over 
 the room, and got into bed.
 
 248 MATTHEW REDMA.YNE. 
 
 " I have been all my life a victim to asthma, but it was 
 worse than usual that night, and the fumes from the lamp 
 aggravated it afresh. In the course of an hour the irrita- 
 tion became unbearable, and I began to cough so loudly 
 that I feared I should wake Llewellyn which, ill as I 
 feared he was, I should very much regret having done ; so 
 I stepped out of bed and blew the light out 
 
 " The night was as yet intensely dark, and silent almost 
 as the grave the only sound I detected was the deep, 
 measured breathing of Llewellyn. Suddenly that silence 
 was broken. I heard a noise I could not distinguish, save 
 that it seemed to come from the direction of the stable- 
 yard. Then surely I could not be mistaken the swift 
 pounding of a horse's hoofs upon the ground, but deadened 
 by the walls that intervened. Then stillness again. I lay 
 motionless and listened, but nothing happened, and the 
 sound was not repeated. Llewellyn did not seem to have 
 been disturbed, for I could tell by his heavy respiration 
 that he was still asleep. 
 
 "The minutes crept on into hours. The little clock in 
 the room where I was sleeping struck ' one ' and ' two,' and 
 was echoed by another clock with deeper tone from an 
 inner room somewhere in the house. 
 
 " A little before three there came a hesitating knock a 
 the door. I asked ' Who's there ? ' 
 
 " A voice answered ' I'm the groom. I want to see Mr. 
 Llewellyn.' 
 
 "I asked him what was the matter, and he answered 
 that something had happened. 
 
 111 Your master is not well,' I said. 'He's asleep. Will 
 the morning not do as well ? ' 
 
 " ' Very well,' came the answer, after a pause, and in a 
 tone so faint that I could barely make out the words, ' I'll 
 tell him in the morning.' 
 
 " I was sorry afterwards I did not let the man deliver 
 his message, for I learned next morning that his only child 
 had died diiring the night ; but I attached no importance
 
 MATTHEW RKDMAYXE. 249 
 
 to the poor fellow's words at the time. Had he insisted on 
 making himself heard as one would naturally expect a 
 man situated as he was would have done I should, of course, 
 have offered no further objection, but aroused Llewellyn 
 at once. 
 
 " He had not been gone long when I was once more 
 startled by the clatter of horse's hoofs in the yard. The 
 sound was fainter than before, but I was certain I could 
 not be mistaken. The thought crossed my mind for the 
 first time that perhaps something had happened to Scythe- 
 bearer. I sat up and listened intently. Llewellyn was still 
 asleep I could see him in the faint moonlight lying with 
 his face turned away from me. I stole noiselessly to the 
 window, and looked out. The stables were round the 
 corner of the house, and I could not make out anything 
 from my point of view. I stood for a few minutes debating 
 with myself whether I should arouse Llewellyn or not. 
 Everything seemed to me the same as usual. Perhaps I 
 had been mistaken. If anything had really happened to 
 Scythe-bearer, surely the groom would let his master know 
 on the instant. But stay could it have been that that 
 had brought him to the door a few minutes since ? It was 
 
 possible and yet, surely, in that case, he would not have 
 
 let me turn him from his purpose so easily. ... I felt 
 for the matches to light tho lamp again, but could not find 
 them. 'Llewellyn!' I called, 'Llewellyn!' He did not 
 hear me, and I stepped to his bedside and shook him by 
 the shoulder. ' Llewellyn ! Get up. Something has hap- 
 pened in tho stables.' He was broad awake in a moment, 
 and started up into a sitting posture. 'What do you 
 say? Is it Scy the-bearer ? ' 'I don't know. I have heard 
 the sound of horses galloping in tho yard. The groom 
 knocked at the door a minute or two ago, and said some- 
 thing had happened.' ' My God ! it must be Scythe- 
 bearer,' he said, as he threw on his things. ' It must be 
 Scythe-bearer. If it is I'm a ruined man ! ' He drew the 
 matches from under his pillow, and threw them on the
 
 250 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 table as he dressed. I lit the lamp, and drew on my things 
 almost as quickly as he did. ' Follow me, Trupp,' he said, 
 catching up the lamp, and leading the way through the 
 house, 'and let us see Avhat has happened.' I followed him 
 as he hurried along the passages, and the first thing we 
 saw as we stepped into the stable-yard was the dying form 
 of Scythe-bearer lying in a heap on the stones." l 
 
 XXX. 
 
 [FROM MATTHEW REDMAYNE TO DK. CAEMICIIAEL.] 
 " I CANNOT describe the shock your letter, describing 
 your conversation with Herr Trupp, has given me. I don't 
 doubt for a moment but that you are fully justified in your 
 confidence that the herr told you neither more nor less 
 than the truth, and I must admit that I am discouraged 
 by it beyond words. If Llewellyn was not the author of 
 Stadding's death, we know well enough who was ; and you 
 will understand all that that means for me. The dearest 
 hope of my life is dashed to the ground for ever. I can 
 look for nothing more conclusive than this last piece of 
 evidence. I own myself convinced at last. When I think 
 of the story told in Esther's diary when I consider all the 
 circumstances of her sister's life, I feel I have been a mere 
 self-deluded fool ever to have formed the hopes I have 
 lately indulged. A fool not to see that Sarah Bundle's 
 story was far more easily explained away than was Esther's. 
 A fool not to see that the landlord's story needed no 
 explanation other than it bore upon the face of it. Well, 
 it's all over now, and it only remains for me to bear my 
 
 1 The herr then goes over the same ground as that already traversed 
 by the landlord of the Truss o' Straw, with only the trilling variations 
 that might afreet the memory after lapse of time.
 
 MATTHKW HKDMAYNK. 251 
 
 part a.s well as dear little Esther has borne hers. 1 cannot 
 tell you how this heart-sickening see-saw between hope and 
 despair has affected ine now that I have arrived at the 
 truth at last. . . . You are wrong in advising me to 
 see Esther again. Another interview with her would be 
 useless worse than useless. It would be more, I believe, 
 than she could bear. Better let things be as they are. 
 Come back as soon as you can, for I have much to say to 
 you." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 [KuoM MATTHKW HKDMAYNK TO ESTHER.] 
 (Ten days later.) 
 
 "DKAK ESTHER, 
 
 " This will be delivered to you by Dr. Carmichael 
 only upon a certain condition, which lie has formed in his 
 own private mind, but which he has not imparted to me. 
 It is this same condition of his that has caused him to 
 make the journey to New Plymouth alone, and that has 
 caused him to think of bringing you back with him to 
 Wellington on his return. I know that you will not 
 approve of this step. After the decision you expressed at 
 oui' last meeting, and situated as we two are, 1 fear it is 
 very unwise doubly so when 1 tell you that all our investi- 
 gations have proved worse than fruitless. It is only on 
 the doctor's assurance that his action will be justified by 
 the event that I have permitted it at all. I can only say 
 that if we do see one another again I will not seek by t>o 
 much as a word or look to turn you from the determination 
 you have formed that 1 shall seek to do nothing that 
 might make this second interview between us more trying 
 for you than in the nature of things it may prove to be, 
 and in earnest of that I refrain from writing so much as 
 one of the many things 1 should have written only a few 
 
 R
 
 252 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 days ago. You have decided that our paths in life must 
 henceforth be apart from one another. I will not play the 
 hypocrite with myself by saying I believe that decision is 
 a wise one ; but so be it. Only rest assured of this : that 
 if in the future you should change your mind as to what 
 you consider duty imposes upon you, you will not find me 
 then with the restraints upon my affection which I place 
 upon them under present circumstances. You will find me 
 then as to-day. 
 
 "Your true-hearted lover and husband, 
 
 "MATTHEW."
 
 PART VI 11. 
 
 "NO SUCH THING AS CHANCE." 
 XXXII. 
 
 ****** 
 "Now, Esther," began Dr. Carmichael, ami then stopped 
 and bent over her with an old beau's gaiety, and whispered 
 something in her ear only one word or two which caused 
 her to start, draw her brows together swiftly in a moment- 
 ary frown, and look almost fearfully up in his face, with 
 parted lips, as if she were about to speak, and then, re- 
 assured by his expi-ession, to sink back in her chair again 
 with a new, almost pleased, and wholly mystified look in 
 her eyes and an incredulous smile on her lips, and was it 
 or was it not a sidelong timorous glance towards Red- 
 mayne? Miss Dorothy Ann, too, who was sitting beside 
 her with a much more knowing look than the circumstances 
 seemed at all to warrant, took her hand in hers, and they 
 both sat with their eyes fixed upon the doctor's counten- 
 ance the only difference was that there was no mistaking 
 the satisfaction and expectancy on Miss Dorothy Ann's 
 face, while Esther's expression became gradually one of 
 settled perplexity and uneasiness. 
 
 "Now, Esther, and you, Kedmayne," began the doctor 
 again (he did not include Miss Dorothy Ann. but Ksther 
 thought she detected a swift glance pass between them), 
 "when I set out for New Plymouth three or four days ago, 
 1 made it a condition that if a certain supposition I had
 
 254 MATTHEW REDMAYKE. 
 
 formed proved true, I should consider myself justified in 
 bringing you two together again for at least one more 
 interview before both your lives were ruined by your part- 
 ing for ever, if you went so far as to turn the romantic 
 torn-fool's game you are keeping up into earnest." 
 
 The doctor, whose always reddish face was redder than 
 ever under the influence of some internal excitement, 
 paused and looked at his audience. Redmayne, alive to 
 nothing but the responsibility of following out the course 
 he had pledged himself to in his letter to Esther, was sitting 
 a little apart with an almost theatrical composure of face 
 and manner. He nodded, and the doctor went on 
 
 "Very well. That particular supposition did prove true, 
 as it happened, and, consequently, I have brought your 
 wife and Miss Winterson all the way from New Plymouth 
 
 up here to your own sitting-room to-day And 
 
 much good it appears to have done you, you ungrateful 
 young dog," the doctor seemed to add mentally, as he 
 contemplated his friend's unbending stolidity. 
 
 Redmayne nodded his head again, and then instantly 
 subsided into his frigid shell of composure. 
 
 " But this interview over, and the explanation made that 
 I think ought to be made, I wash my hands of the whole 
 affair, and you must decide for youi\selves whether for the 
 future your paths in life are to be together or apart." 
 
 Esther started with an indefinite feeling of alarm under 
 a meaning glance that escaped the doctor, and a meaning 
 pressure of the hand from Miss Dorothy Ann. She could 
 not free herself from the apprehension that some advantage 
 was sought to be taken of her feelings ; but a glance 
 towards Redmayne reassi;red her, at least as far as he was 
 concerned. 
 
 " Doctor Carmichael," she said, tremulously, " you have 
 been the very best of good friends to me, and I know that 
 
 your intentions towards me are always the kindest but 
 
 but there can be no explanation. The only explanation 
 possible between us was that which Matthew and I came
 
 MATTHEW HEDMAYXE. 255 
 
 to days ago. This is becoming nothing less than perse- 
 cution, and I cannot bear it. I cannot you know I cannot 
 do otherwise than I am doing. Why did yon not tell me 
 what were your intentions before inducing me to come here 
 from New Plymouth ? " 
 
 "No, doctor, my wi - Esther, came here," said Red- 
 mayne, with signs of a rapid thaw taking place in his own 
 composure, as he noticed the distress Esther's apprehension 
 was causing her, " under a distinct promise from me that 
 I should neither by word or look attempt to alter the 
 determination she has come to 
 
 " They have both thrown themselves on your good faith, 
 in fact, doctor," Miss Dorothy Ann interposed hastily. 
 
 " And I can't allow you, doctor, on any conditions what- 
 ever, to try and do for me what I am bound in honour not 
 to do for myself. All I can say is that I am that we are 
 both prepared to await . . . the future." 
 
 A grateful look from Esther through the tears that 
 would come, and he withdrew into his shell more completely 
 than ever. 
 
 " H'mph," said the doctor, discontentedly, after a pause, 
 " and this is being in love, is it ? Human nature seems 
 to have changed considerably since my day. However, 
 Redmayne, you can keep your temper, and, Esther, you 
 can dry your tears. I said in the first place I should not 
 bring this meeting about unless the event fully justified 
 me in doing it; and I think you'll admit, before I've done, 
 that the event has justified me. . . . There is one 
 thing. I am afraid I shall have to refer to a subject that 
 may give you pain, Esther ; but you know me too well to 
 think I would give you pain needlessly, or to imagine that 
 I have only brought you here to play with your feelings 
 
 It may have been something in the doc-tor's voice .and 
 glance, or the recollection of the words he had whispered to 
 her at the beginning, or it may have been something in the 
 eloquent pressure of Miss Dorothy Ann's hand, but with a 
 woman's swift change of disposition and a woman's swift
 
 256 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 intuition, Esther suddenly started up with her hands 
 clasped before her, and her eyes sparkling with a light 
 they had not known for many a day. 
 
 " Oh ! dear Doctor Carmichael, you mean you must 
 mean my poor sister. Don't keep me in suspense. Tell 
 me tell me what it is at once ! " 
 
 " Doctor," cried Redmayne, catching the infection, and 
 throwing his carefully preserved composure to the winds, 
 and springing to his feet, " you can't mean you have 
 found out no new fact 1 " 
 
 " You would ask, Esther, I know, if there is any hope 
 that after all your sister is innocent innocent, that is, in 
 the sense you would wish her to be. Kecollect what I 
 have told you this last day or two as to our investigations 
 and what their result has been, and do not let me rouse 
 expectations that may be only doomed to disappointment." 
 
 " Speak plainly, doctor. Tell me at once is she innocent 
 or not ? " 
 
 " Let me answer you both at once, by saying if I cannot 
 at present go so far as that, I have at least found out, 
 however impossible it may have been for Llewellyn to have 
 done the deed himself, he had so powerful a motive for 
 wishing it done, that I have not the least doubt in the 
 world at this moment but that the man who did commit 
 this crime was no .other than some one he had hired to do 
 
 lu 
 
 " Unless," faltered Esther, almost inaudibly, understand- 
 ing only too well the meaning of the doctor's pause, and 
 feeling her new-born hope turning cold and dead about her 
 heart again. 
 
 " Yes, unless, indeed, he was forestalled," he added, 
 gravely, understanding in his turn the breathless pause she 
 too had made; "but judging by after events, that seems 
 highly improbable at least to me." 
 
 " I pray God her hand may be as innocent as her heart 
 was," Esther breathed rather than spoke. 
 
 " But I do not understand," interrupted Redmayne,
 
 MATTFIEW REDMAYXE. 257 
 
 impetuously, " what now facts what now discovery can 
 there be?" 
 
 " The discovery of all others that I have been longing 
 for since you first broached this subject to me." 
 
 " You cannot mean the correspondence that passed 
 between Amelia Llewellyn and Stadding?" 
 
 " That, and nothing else those letters, at least, that 
 passed from Stadding to Mrs. Amelia Llewellyn." 
 
 " But the girl told me distinctly she burnt every letter." 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " Did she not tell me the truth, then 1 " 
 
 " Possibly," said the doctor again, with vast enjoyment 
 of the situation, "as nearly as a girl's giddy head would 
 let her ; but whether I had to extract the correspondence 
 from the ashes of those letters, or from the air, I've got it, 
 lad, every message but one that passed between those 
 two people that is of any interest to us." 
 
 " Now in this house ? " 
 
 " Now, and in this house." 
 
 "Then, in the name of heaven, let me see them with 
 my own eyes," were the first words that sprung from 
 Kedmayne's lips, and 
 
 " Oh, however did you come to find them out ? " were the 
 first words that left the lips of his wife. 
 
 " In the first place, by a very simple process of reason- 
 ing ; and in the second place, in the careful keeping of 
 those ten pretty little lingers of your own." 
 
 " In my keeping, doctor ; whatever are you saying I " 
 
 " Neither more nor less than that you have been carry- 
 ing about with you for months the one piece of evidence of 
 all others that Mat and myself too would have almost 
 given our right hands for the one piece of evidence that 
 more than anything else gives mo hope that your prayer 
 as to your poor Kate's innocence may yet be fulfilled." 
 
 " 1 1 I ! 1 did not so much as know the letters were in 
 existence till you told me of them the other day." 
 
 " Doctor, you inu*t be raving. If you really have the
 
 258 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 letters with you, show them to us, and I'll believe you," 
 cried Redmayne again. 
 
 " All in good time, Mat," said the doctor, waving his 
 hand; "all in good time, Esther. Let me show you first 
 how I ferreted the thing out. You know that when I 
 came back from Auckland it was in the full belief (as I told 
 you in my letter, Mat) that after all our cleverness and all 
 our plausible putting together of this, that, and the other, 
 Llewellyn was entirely innocent of even the knowledge 
 of Stadding's death. Some days later, you remember, the 
 diary you had written for was forwarded from Levuka 
 you needn't trouble yourself to blush, Esther ; it was a 
 very nicely written little diary, though apt in parts to 
 make a young fellow vain 
 
 " Oh, for heaven's sake keep to your story, and let us 
 get through, if we must hear it first," said Redmayne, 
 impatiently, who now looked as if he had never known 
 what composure meant. 
 
 " Well, well then, as I say, the diary came to hand, but 
 I had little hope of gaining anything from it, for by that 
 time all the airy castles we had been at so much pains to 
 build had been all upset and gone off in thin air. I told 
 myself that what I had all my life long believed to be the 
 truth that an actor's fictitious character may become by 
 oft repetition his real character had been borne out in 
 this case." (Redmayne frowned at the speaker's forgetful- 
 ness, and looked quickly at Esther's face, but she did not 
 seem to have appreciated the significance of what the 
 doctor had said.) " This was what I told myself when I 
 took up your diary ; and it was in this belief that I read 
 on till I came to your description of the scene in the 
 theatre the glade in the forest at midnight, the two men 
 talking angrily, the struggle, the stage moon and the 
 canvas clouds where did you learn anything about stage 
 moons and canvas clouds, I should like to know 1 ? the 
 escape of the guilty man and the entrance of the woman 
 on the scene, and then of your waking up from your faint
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 259 
 
 and seeing Llewellyn looking down at you from over the 
 shoulder of Stadding. I read on till there, and then I 
 stopped, and my opinion changed. I recalled the discussion 
 Mat and I had had over it all, days before ; but it struck 
 me with tenfold greater force now that I had seen it in 
 your own handwriting and with added particulars. I put 
 the book down, and said to myself, ' By tho great god Pan, 
 there's fatality and Providence in this, and I've been a 
 blind fool not to see it.' 
 
 " There is nothing in tho way of superstition about me 
 not an atom but there are some things a man can't get 
 away from, and this was one of 'em. I told myself this 
 could be no mere coincidence : it must be neither more nor 
 less than a direct providential forecast of what was to 
 happen in the future, and I went afresh over the whole 
 ground Mat and I had already gone over. I went back to 
 the theory of Llewellyn's guilt, and, following that up, 
 came to a consideration of Sarah Bundle's story and what 
 I had heard from the landlord of the Truss o' Straw and 
 Herr Trupp. We had concluded, Mat and I, that whatever 
 Llewellyn's motive might have been, it was to a moral 
 certainty furnished by the letter Sarah Bundle had given 
 him on the railway station. Old Mrs. Llewellyn had said 
 she intended showing the last letter Amelia Llewellyn had 
 received to Llewellyn himself, and without doubt this was 
 the letter Herr Trupp spoke of his friend reading, and then 
 tearing in pieces and putting on the fire. What had the 
 greatest effect on Llewellyn appeared to be the note his 
 mother had sent along with Amelia's letter. Now, I asked 
 myself, what could that note contain likely to disturb 
 Llewellyn as it had apparently done. I remembered 
 Redmayne had spoken of a quarrel which Sarah Bundle had 
 witnessed between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law on 
 the day the letter had been despatched. Amelia Llewellyn 
 had said ' If you find it so difficult to deal with two faces 
 on one pair of shoulders, take care how you deal with two 
 faces when they belong to different people, especially when
 
 260 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 those faces are female faces,' and the words had affected 
 the old lady in a rather remarkable way. I thought then 
 and I know now that these words referred to some 
 hidden fact in Llewellyn's past life, which fact, judging 
 from the look of things, had hitherto been kept from 
 Amelia Llewellyn's knowledge. If so, what would be more 
 probable than that the old lady would draw Llewellyn's 
 attention to these words in her note. They would show 
 him that whatever secret they pointed to was now known 
 to his wife. 
 
 " Thus far it had all been fairly plain sailing with the 
 assistance of the evidence I had ready to my hand. But 
 now the difficulty came in. Supposing all this was true, 
 and still going on the theory of Llewellyn's guilt, where 
 was the immediate occasion for his acting as he did ? How 
 was it he, or his hireling rather, came to keep that fatal 
 midnight appointment with Stadding? The note would 
 show him, for one thing, that his wife had a method of 
 keeping up correspondence with some one outside, and, of 
 course, that whatever fresh information she had gained of 
 her husband's past history, must have been furnished her 
 by this person ; but it could tell him nothing more. When 
 I had first considered this subject with Mat, the conclusion 
 that we had come to was that Stadding had planned an 
 elopement, which he purposed should be carried into exe- 
 cution that night, and that the message apprising Amelia 
 Llewellyn of this or, more probably, of some final arrange- 
 ment in connection with it ; no doubt the plan itself was of 
 long standing had been read by Llewellyn, and that at 
 the last moment when interference was possible, he had 
 ridden his racehorse Scythe-bearer out to Lowry Bay, had 
 met Stadding at the place appointed, and had then and 
 there killed him, probably in the course of a quarrel. That 
 conclusion I still thought the correct one, except that, 
 instead of Llewellyn himself, it must have been some one 
 he employed. 
 
 " Now then, I asked myself How was this fatal message
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYXE. 2fil 
 
 conveyed which Llewellyn had read 1 He had torn up the 
 letter which Amelia herself had received, so it was not in 
 that ; and it could not have been in old Mrs. Llewellyn's 
 note, for she was not aware that her daughter-in-law carried 
 on any correspondence. That was the utmost point of my 
 reasoning, and at that point I began to despair of going 
 any further. Still, I felt sure the point that was puzzling 
 me was the key to the mystery, and I went patiently over 
 the ground again and again. If the secret was to be dis- 
 covered at all, I knew it must be in that part of Sarah 
 Bundle's story describing the habits of the women at the 
 cottage at Lowry Bay. There was only one thing to do to 
 settle the point, and I did it. Without consulting Red- 
 mayne I walked out to Newtown and saw the girl Bundle 
 myself, and got her to repeat the whole of the story to me 
 afresh. 
 
 " I questioned her very closely about the letters her 
 young mistress received, and what she told me served for 
 a time only to puzzle me the more. I had thought at first 
 that they might have been written in cipher ; but if that 
 were so how was it that Llewellyn discovered the message 
 after he had burnt his wife's letter 1 The only facts that I 
 could make out were that Amelia Llewellyn did set great 
 value on the letters she received ; that they came very 
 frequently ; that she appeared to care nothing for them 
 when placed in her hand ; and that she had high words 
 with her mother-in-law on one occasion when a letter had 
 been brought to her without the envelope. The same 
 watchfulness had been exercised when she sent letters 
 away as when they were received ; before being posted 
 they were always given to the old lady by Amelia herself, 
 and the girl had not the slightest idea as to whom they 
 might be addressed. I questioned her as to whether her 
 young mistress had appeared to greatly resent the old 
 lady reading her letters before giving them up, and from 
 what she told me, Amelia Llewellyn seemed amused 
 rather than otherwise at the old lady's mameuvre, which,
 
 262 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 especially in the case of a woman, seemed incomprehensible 
 to me. 
 
 " Here, then, I was once more fairly at fault, and with 
 expectations lower than ever, I took up your diary again ; 
 and because it is always the unexpected that happens, the 
 revelation came to me just at the moment when I had 
 despaired of it. It lay concealed in a certain passage you 
 had written long before any of these sad complications had 
 arisen ; and when I read it I dropped the book and felt for 
 a moment as if I had been dazzled the truth broke so 
 suddenly upon me. It was like coming out of a dark room 
 into broad noonday. Every link fell into its place by 
 enchantment, everything was explained in one involuntary 
 flash of intelligence. I knew now why old Mrs. Llewellyn 
 failed to see what was passing under her eyes ; I understood 
 Amelia Llewellyn's anxiety to get her letters, and her 
 apparent loss of interest in them when they were put into 
 her hand, the frequency with which those letters arrived, 
 why she had quarrelled with the old lady when she had 
 sent her the letter and kept back the envelope, and lastly, 
 how that mysterious message had fallen into Llewellyn's 
 hands, and been read by him. 
 
 " With the influence of my discovery fresh in my mind, 
 and without the loss of a single hour, I set off for New 
 Plymouth ; and this is what I found, and this is my 
 sole justification for having brought about this meeting 
 to-day." 
 
 The doctor lifted a book from where it had been lying 
 unnoticed on a chair in a corner of the room, and placed it 
 on the table. Esther recognized it with wonder : it was 
 Pure-in-Heart's book of stamps. The group drew round 
 the doctor without uttering a word. He fluttered the 
 leaves for a moment or two, and then selecting a page, 
 inserted the point of his penknife under one of the stamps 
 and drew it neatly off so neatly and unresistingly that it 
 suggested the idea of prearrangement. Beneath it was a 
 small square of paper which had originally formed part of
 
 MATTHEW KKDMAYXK. 203 
 
 au envelope, and this square was covered with writing in 
 almost microscopic characters, and so crowded together 
 that it could only be read with difficulty. As little of the 
 minute space as possible was occupied by the address and 
 signature, and here and there contractions had been resorted 
 to. It read as follows : 
 
 Dear A. Do not, I entreat, sup- 
 jwse I am seekiny to mislead you 
 in any one particular. Whatever 
 ot/ier faults I may have I never 
 yet deceived a woman. I tell you 
 that before long you may defy his 
 tyranny d- cruelty <(. demand yr. 
 freedom from him. Only a little 
 lonyer and the facts I have referred 
 to will lie in my hands, lie little 
 knows with whom he has to deal 
 when he deals with me and when 
 yr. honour and happiness are the 
 prize I defend. Yr. own E.X. 
 
 " How in the name of all that's marvellous came that 
 there ? " cried Redmayne, as the doctor ceased reading. 
 
 " The explanation is simple, even to absurdity. The 
 passage I read in the diary was that containing the words 
 of your little friend Pure-in-Heart ' Who knows but what 
 the same Power that sets all these things going just to 
 please a poor, weak little invalid, mayn't somehow make 
 use of what he does in his turn.' The truth 1 had been 
 blindly groping for for days dawned upon me in an instant. 
 The mysterious correspondence had been carried on under 
 tlie postaye stamp. JUit, if so, what must follow? Why, 
 clearly, that the missing correspondence the corresjxjnd- 
 ence we had so often lamented as lost to vis for ever, with 
 all it contained, was at that very moment in Esther's hands. 
 Thus :
 
 264 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 " Amelia Llewellyn locks her room door to prevent 
 possible interruption ; the stamp on her letter is removed, 
 and the message lurking beneath it read. The letter having 
 to go back into old Mrs. Llewellyn's hands, the stamp must 
 be replaced again. The old lady puts all the letters together 
 in her drawer, right up to the morning of the llth June. 
 The girl Bundle is ordered to burn them, and does so, but 
 first as she told Mat cutting out the piece of the envelope 
 bearing the stamp, and sending them to her brother. We 
 know his method is to paste into his book the stamp with 
 the portion of the envelope it covers adhering to it (in this 
 instance, as it happened, they were already prepared by his 
 sister). Consequently every message would be preserved 
 intact in his book of stamps. That book the little fellow 
 had given to Esther, and so the irony of fate had completed 
 itself by making the very person most interested in the 
 disclosure of this evidence the unconscious means of its 
 concealment. It was when I arrived at this point that I 
 saw the opportunity of bringing you two together again 
 for this last interview, but I made it a condition not only 
 that my surmise as to the secret correspondence must be 
 the correct one, but that the character of the communi- 
 cations themselves must justify me in my purpose. I 
 went to New Plymouth, as I have just said, I examined 
 Pure-in-Heart's book, and I found that the little fellow's 
 desire to be useful had been fulfilled years after his 
 death in a way he could have little Suspected, and that 
 the same Power that had set all these tilings going just 
 to please a poor, weak little invalid, had indeed in this 
 unthought-of way made some use of what he did in his 
 turn." 
 
 Esther and lledmayue and Miss Dorothy Ann all turned 
 upon the doctor to address him at once. Ho held up his 
 hand. 
 
 " Wait and see what follows. Wait and see how 
 thoroughly this bed-ridden little invalid fulfilled his un- 
 conscious task before he died how his childish fad of
 
 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 265 
 
 collecting stamps has dune for us what all our wise brains 
 could not do for ourselves." 
 
 The doctor bent over the book again, and removed 
 stamp after stamp, each revealing its little square of manu- 
 script as had the first, till the whole page of little Pure-in- 
 Heart's book presented the appearance of a closely-written 
 folio. And with their hearts beating under a tumult of 
 excitement, so powerful that it scarcely permitted them to 
 understand what they read, Esther and Redmayne stood 
 side by side, and saw gradually spread out before them the 
 whole connected series of communications that had passed 
 from Stadding to Amelia Llewellyn, thus strangely hidden 
 hitherto, thus strangely brought to light at last. 
 
 "Here and there," said the doctor, "you will find the 
 writing too indistinct to be made out, and it is full of all 
 sorts of contractions, but you will find no difficulty in 
 gathering the sense. Your little friend, of course, put the 
 stamps in his book at random, just as they happened to 
 come to hand, and in many cases the message was hidden 
 beneath two stamps ; but as near as I can make out, this 
 is about the order they should be read in. Here's the first 
 one apparently in answer to a letter from Amelia Llewellyn 
 describing the quarrel Sarah Bundle spoke of when the 
 old lady sent her daughter-in-law the letter, and retained 
 possession of the envelope herself." 
 
 . . You were wise in aetin^ 
 you iliil, dearest Amelia. It 
 ijjht ha\v heroine :i horribly 
 vkward situation. Mail she pei- 
 ti'il in kivpiu:,' lurk the en 
 Inpcs from you we slid, have 
 I'll lost, for all our ingenuity 
 1. not have helped us then. You 
 ad the best pisihlt> excuse in 
 lin^ to the servant Iwing 
 allowed to read the letters she 
 brought to you ; hut, for tin- 
 future, we must can- fully jjuard 
 against such possibilities. .
 
 266 
 
 MATTHEW EEDMAYNE. 
 
 " Now, between this one and the one I have placed next 
 there is seemingly a letter missing one in which something 
 had occurred that offended Amelia Llewellyn you can see 
 that plain enough by the tone it is written in. Thence- 
 forward he drops the ' dearest Amelia,' and is only the 
 warm, earnest friend, full of plausibility and good wishes. 
 I am inclined to think there must be another link in the 
 chain missing between letters six and seven, too. You will 
 notice when you come to it." 
 
 ii. 
 
 . . . I am not aware of ever 
 having presumed too much, & 
 slid, not have forgotten that "all 
 we can have in common " is the 
 "finding out of the truth," even 
 without yr. very pointed reminder. 
 It is more yr. loss than mine that 
 this correspondence shd. cease, 
 when a few more days wd. bring 
 the knowledge that wd. give you 
 yr. freedom. I am surprised at 
 & weary of this constant changing 
 of your mind & tone, & of exert- 
 ing myself for no return but in- 
 gratitude. If you wish it, I shall 
 be quite content to let this com- 
 munication be our last. 
 
 I do remember that you 
 are friendless, & am not so despic- 
 able as to withdraw what little 
 aid I am able to render. But can 
 you so misunderstand me as to 
 suppose that I, of all ineii, am 
 seeking in any way to take ad- 
 vantage of yr. position ? What 
 aid I can give, I have given freely 
 up till now for yr. sake alone, & 
 will continue it just as freely in 
 the future. Yes, I well know that 
 you have bitterly learned to be 
 suspicious, & sympathize sincerely 
 with you ; but do not, I beseech 
 you, destroy all our plans by 
 distrusting me. 
 
 . . . Patience, yr. martyrdom 
 shall not last much longer. 1 
 sympathize deeply in the distress 
 of mind this must cause you ; but 
 are, you not foolishly scrupulous ? 
 What I have told you is neither 
 more nor less than the truth. 
 Why will you not believe ? -Hut 
 it must be hard for such as you to 
 credit that HO much villainy goes 
 on around you every day. . . . 
 
 You speak of duty. I 
 should be the last to seek to win 
 you from it, but what duty can 
 you owe to a man who has so 
 basely deceived yon ;is he has? 
 Yes, J can understand that his 
 conduct is so black you, can hardly 
 believe it to be true, but in a 
 little while I shall give you un- 
 deniable proof proof that will 
 enable you to gain absolute and 
 entire freedom from him for ever.
 
 MATTHKW REDMAYNE. 
 
 2G7 
 
 VI. 
 
 . . . Do not be so easily dis- 
 couraged. I cannot see hi what 
 souse our correspondence is even 
 a deception much less degrading. 
 It isyr. only means of information ; 
 therefore, justifiable. It is their 
 interest to keep you in ignorance ; 
 it is yours to know the truth ; to 
 insist upon those rights of which 
 you have been defrauded ; to free 
 yourself from a position into which 
 you have been deceived ; & that 
 freedom can only be obtained in one 
 way by putting yr. unreserved 
 trust in me. 
 
 VII. 
 
 . . I know how unbearable 
 this delay must seem to you, but 
 I am in daily expectation of the 
 prefect's reply to my letter, & as 
 soon as the copy of Llewellyn's 
 marriage certificate is in my hand 
 I shall forward a duplicate to you, 
 & then 1 trust you will see things 
 in their true light, &. yr. doubts 
 & misgivings & mistaken ideas of 
 dutv will be at an end. 
 
 . It has cimif, <( you arc a 
 free woman. I received the pre- 
 fect's letter to-day. It confirms 
 all I have told you. Llewellyn 
 was married years ago in France, 
 & his first wife is still living there. 
 You have been deceived as surely 
 no woman has ever been deceived 
 before. You are no more his wife 
 than if the ceremony had never 
 been pronounced. It only remains 
 now to act, & 1 am prepared to 
 use this information against him 
 to the utmost. . . . 
 
 Why did I not furnish 
 you with the information I had 
 gained ? First, because I am 
 afraid of the influence of those 
 around you. Second, because I 
 doubt yr. courage to carry out yr. 
 purpose- against such a man as L. 
 Third, because a single false step 
 now means ruin. Listen to yr. 
 truest k most sincere friend 
 make one bold stride for freedom ! 
 Leave yr. prison without a day's 
 delay ; & then, free from yr. 
 tyrant, trust me to see you 
 righted. 
 
 . . You see I was right. 
 You confess now that yr. courage 
 leaves you at the very thought of 
 thwarting L. in such a serious 
 matter. But it must be done. 
 It is impossible, knowing what 
 you do, that you can, that you 
 dare, acknowledge him any longer 
 as yr. husband. I am aware that 
 it is a terrible situation to be 
 placed in. But yr. duty is clear. 
 Trust wholly in me. After all we 
 are masters of the position, & a 
 little skill & caution will give us 
 the victory. . . 
 
 No, as yr. best friend I 
 cannot tell you all the facts I 
 have gained. You are, as yet, too 
 distracted, too little mistress of 
 yourself. The old beldame who 
 watches you might betray you 
 into revealing it, ti as I have said, 
 one false step now means ruin 
 absolute and entire. Keep our 
 secret, put yourself beyond his 
 power, and then trust in me. I 
 nave friends and will see justice 
 done vou.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 xn. 
 
 You must overcome yr. 
 terror at the thought of opposing 
 L. that is, you must liberate 
 yourself from yr. prison at Lowry 
 Bay. Knowing what you do, how 
 can you remain an hour longer in 
 the house ? Try, do try & come 
 to a decision. Make my friends 
 yr. friends, & not an hour shall 
 be lost in winning for you those 
 rights which are yr. most precious 
 possession. . . . 
 
 . Still hesitating, still fear- 
 ful. What may be the end of 
 this if you continue to delay ? 
 No, in kindness no. The very 
 tone of yr. letters makes me more 
 than ever doubtful of trusting you 
 with the full truth, while you are 
 in the power of these people. Only 
 resolve to leave them, & all will 
 be well. I will meet you at any 
 time, & at any place, and the day 
 that sees yr. escape will see you 
 in possession of all that I am now 
 forced to keep from you. Let yr. 
 next letter tell me you have at 
 last made up yr. mind. 
 
 More gratified than I can 
 tell you that you are at last realiz- 
 ing the position in which you 
 are placed. Do not fear any in- 
 cautiousness on my part. If you 
 are so closely watched as to make 
 escape impossible by day, some 
 other time must be chosen. What 
 matters it so long as you do 
 escape ? Courage, only have 
 courage, & the future will yet 
 have all the happiness in store 
 for you that you deserve. . . 
 
 . . Make no preparations. 
 Avoid anything that might arouse 
 suspicion. To gain yr. own per- 
 sonal freedom is the one thing 
 needful. Do not ask me even 
 now to impart the information I 
 have gained to you. Rather let 
 the knowledge be a further in- 
 ducement to you to hasten the 
 day of yr. escape, for on that day 
 you shall hear all I now withhold 
 from you. I am waiting now 
 every day for yr. final answer. 
 Do not let yr. courage desert you 
 now at the last minute. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 . . . Yes, so far as I know I 
 & the person from whom I first 
 obtained it are the only persons 
 aware of this fact in L.'s past life. 
 I care nothing for his violence & 
 desperation. His power over you 
 now will soon be gone for ever. 
 Think of freedom from him & all 
 it will bring. Think of the further 
 brutality that awaits you if you 
 give up. Wait no longer. Try 
 & let me know how & when you 
 think of making yr. escape. 
 
 . . . Why do you tie my hands 
 with such conditions ? Hut I can 
 deny you nothing : they are 
 granted. Let me urge upon you 
 delay not a single hour longer. 
 In yr. place, I should see nothing 
 in him but my persecutor & 
 deceiver, & would not hesitate for 
 a moment in bringing down upon 
 him the severest punishment his 
 conduct deserves. I have not, & 
 shall not, venture near Lowry 1>. 
 till I have yr. permission ; but do, 
 do hasten yr. decision. . . .
 
 MATTHEW HEDMAYXE. 269 
 
 . . . Everything else you have 
 asked shall he granted ; the 
 farthest I can go will he to send 
 you the name of his first wife, 
 with the time & place of his 
 marriage in the letter in which 
 you let me fix the time of yr. 
 escape & place of our meeting. I 
 shall have the prefect's copy of 
 the certificate with me. I pledge 
 myself that within an hour after, 
 you shall lie safe in the hands of 
 friends who will protect you to 
 the uttermost. How can you still 
 doubt? . . . 
 
 (Here the communications end abruptly.) 
 
 XXX I J I. 
 
 A SILENCE followed the reading of the closing words of 
 the secret correspondence. For the first time that evening, 
 Redmayne and Esther looked into one another's eyes more 
 as husband and wife should look, and less like the con- 
 strained and embarrassed strangers they had hitherto 
 appeared. But though both were quick to discern the new- 
 found hope, both remembered it was still nothing more 
 than hope ; both remembered the parts they had still to 
 play. 
 
 "And that," observed the doctor, marking the inter- 
 change of glances, and looking eminently satisfied with 
 himself, "is my justification for bringing this meeting 
 about; was I right or wrong?" 
 
 "Doctor," said lledmayne, with a long breath of relief, 
 and seizing the doctor's hand and wringing it, "after what 
 you have done for us and shown us to-night, do not speak 
 of imprudence or justifying yourself. Thanks to you, we 
 have come to the truth at last. You have given me you
 
 270 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 have given both of us fresh hope for the future stronger, 
 more firmly grounded than ever we have had before." 
 
 " Indeed you have, doctor," said Esther, taking the 
 doctor's other hand in both of hers, " You must be the 
 most wonderful man that ever lived, I think. I cannot 
 believe my own eyes. To think that I should have this by 
 me all this time without knowing it ; while you arid 
 Matthew have been searching high and low for the truth- 
 It's wonderful." 
 
 " And how could any one who saw him ever imagine that 
 the dear little fellow's wish to be of use in the world, 
 would ever have been fulfilled in such an unheard-of way 1 
 And yet how simple, how how inevitably to be so, as it 
 were, it seems," joined in Miss Dorothy Ann, under a sense 
 of responsibility of having to say something, and speaking 
 with a suspicious want of spontaneity. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Winterson, it's only hypocrisy for you to say 
 that now. You have been in the secret ever since the 
 doctor came to us at New Plymouth ; I am sure you have 
 it was you begged the book from me you must have 
 known it all from the beginning, and all this time you 
 have never made any sign." 
 
 " You must blame me for that : as stage manager, with 
 an eye to dramatic effect, I forbade it," said the doctor ; 
 " though one might as well expect heat from an iceberg 
 as extract a spark of of dramaticity from either of 
 you. ;> 
 
 " The clear little fellow ! We liked one another from the 
 very first moment. How this brings back the first day I 
 passed at his mother's cottage. How I ivisJi he was alive 
 now ! " And Esther kissed the open page of the book in 
 a way that made Kedraayne wonder to what extent he was 
 still bound by the promise he had given in his letter. 
 "God bless you, doctor," she said, looking up in the face 
 of her old friend with the tears standing in her eyes ; " you 
 have given me a stronger hope than ever I have dared to 
 indulge before, that my poor, dear Kate, may indeed be
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 271 
 
 innocent after all after all. Oh, what a weary, weary 
 time it has been." 
 
 " It is odd how it should fall out that a little fellow, who 
 never took a score of paces from a sick-bed in his life, 
 should let daylight through the schemes of two of the 
 deepest villains that ever formed plot and counterplot for 
 there's motive here, look you, motive, motive, motive," 
 began the doctor, drawing Pure-in-Heart's book towards 
 him, and tapping it with his forefinger. " Notice this last 
 letter, how it ends. All we want to make the chain complete 
 is the letter that fell into Llewellyn's hands on the night of 
 the eleventh June ; and this last letter shows it as plainly 
 as if it were lying before us ; it guarantees, as soon as 
 Amelia Llewellyn gives a doiinite promise to run away 
 from the cottage at Lowry Bay, that all the particulars of 
 Llewellyn's first marriage shall be sent to her. And the 
 letter containing that exposure, and at the same time fixing 
 the time and place for the meeting, must have been the 
 very letter that foil into Llewellyn's hands -the letter 
 that, more than any other possible thing, would set the 
 whole nature of such a man in a blaze, and work him up 
 to any deed of violence. I>y some means the charm that 
 had worked so well hitherto, failed with him ; he must 
 have at once stumbled upon the secret that we have just 
 found out. And as if anything more were wanting after 
 such a thunderbolt as that revelation must have been, here 
 is Stadding's assurance, apparently in answer to Amelia 
 Llewellyn's request, that when he meets her he will have 
 with him the prefect's own letter. Is it possible to conceive 
 a stronger motive ? " 
 
 4i Stadding was an adept at deception," said Ksther, 
 doubtfully. " May this not have been nothing more than 
 a cunning plot to deceive young Mrs. Llewellyn > Perhaps 
 there was no letter from France perhaps there had been 
 no previous marriage." 
 
 The doctor shook his head. 
 
 " No not but what I could easily credit it, for it would
 
 272 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 have been quite in character with the fellow, so far as that 
 goes. These letters bear the appearance of genuineness on 
 their face. You notice how careful he is to keep the power 
 in his own hands ; how he hides the information from this 
 unfortunate woman for fear lest she should be able to act 
 in her own behalf ; how he dangles this new-found revela- 
 tion before her eyes, and seeks to goad her on to his 
 purpose by appealing to the most sensitive part of a 
 woman's character. All this points, in my opinion, to his 
 being possessed of some secret in Llewellyn's past life ; 
 and that there was some secret I have always believed ever 
 since those words of Amelia LleAvellyn to her mother-in-law 
 on the day of the murder were repeated to me. I would 
 give much to see with my own eyes what her letters to 
 him contained, and not be forced to guess at it from 
 Stadding's replies not, that such knowledge would be of 
 much assistance to us if we did have it. But the chief 
 reason for my disbelief that it is mere invention on 
 Stadding's part, is that in that case how should we account 
 for Llewellyn's action. Remember, as I have said before, 
 it was not jealousy that animated the man. You remember 
 what I said on that score weeks ago, Mat. According to 
 what we heard at the Truss o' Straw, it was only for her 
 money that he married his wife in the first place ; and 
 Stadding, I suppose, on his part, wanted her for what was 
 left of it. No ; it was not because he loved, but because 
 he feared, and had good reason to fear, that Llewellyn did 
 this thing. Trust me, little Pure-iri-heart has done what no 
 one else could do, and has shown us the one only motive 
 that moved the man." 
 
 " Yes, but there's another side to the question," objected 
 Eedmayne. " There are the words that Sarah Bundle 
 overheard while he was talking with his mother on the 
 morning after the death of Stadding. He speaks of the 
 girl he saw that night at the theatre, and of the danger if 
 she informed. If that means anything, it seems to me it 
 must mean that he himself was the man who met Stadding,
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 273 
 
 and not that he employed some one else to rid his path of 
 him. Besides, with a man of his disposition, the provoca- 
 tion he received by reading Htadding's letter to his wife 
 would have the effect of at once urging him to wreak his 
 vengeance with his own hand, not to adopt such a cold, 
 deliberate course of deception as you suppose." 
 
 " You may add to that, if you like, Llewellyn's desire to 
 get into his own possession the copy of the prefect's letter, 
 which Stadding carried in liis pocket. I own I have been 
 puzzled by the same thought myself, but it is easily enough 
 accounted for. Whoever it may have been that Llewellyn 
 employed to do this work, there is little doubt but that he 
 would at least have one interview with him afterwards. 
 The man would describe the scene, and 
 
 " And the sudden appearance of Kate," said Esther, 
 slowly and resolutely, as she saw the doctor hesitate in his 
 choice of words ; and then, holding up her hand, she went 
 on earnestly, " Doctor, and you too, Matthew, the time for 
 that is past now. You must not consider me. 1 have 
 been too long familiar with every aspect of this affair 
 when when I feared for poor Kate's sake to shrink 
 from discussing it, or hearing it discussed, now that for 
 the first time for years I have ever had any sure ground of 
 hope." 
 
 The doctor nodded appreciatively. 
 
 "and Llewellyn having been present at the theatre 
 that night the resemblance would .strike him at once, and 
 he would naturally enough refer to it when describing the 
 scene himself afterwards. Hut however it may have been, 
 there is this encouragement in it -he appeal's to regard 
 her only in the light of some one to be feared as a possible 
 witness." 
 
 As the doctor paused the opening and closing of a door 
 on the other side of the street could be plainly heard. 
 Redmayne started from his chair, and throwing back the 
 door of his room that led on to the balcony, stepped out. 
 The others followed him. A light was .-hining dimly
 
 274 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 
 
 through the blinds of the house opposite. A tall muffled 
 form crossed the window and went slowly down the street. 
 It paused once to look up at the group on the balcony, and 
 then passed on again, and presently emerged from the 
 shadow of the houses in which it had been walking, into a 
 bright patch of moonlight at the entrance of a side street, 
 crossed the street, and then became lost in the shadows on 
 the other side again. 
 
 Either Esther or Miss Dorothy Ann the doctor did not 
 know which whispered, " Who was that ? " 
 
 " The man we have been discussing this last hour," he 
 answered, " Llewellyn. He has a knack of making 
 dramatic entrances and exits at such moments as he is 
 under discussion. Esther, you shuddered," he broke off 
 to exclaim. " I'll take my oath you shuddered at sight 
 of him. This is the second time. History repeats itself, 
 by gad. This is the scene in the theatre over again." 
 
 '' Matthew, doctor," said Esther, in an almost terrified 
 whisper, and leaning over the balustrade of the balcony 
 to peer into the darkness in the direction in which Llewellyn 
 had disappeared, " if you have never trusted a woman's 
 instinct before, trust mine to-night. I am sure your 
 suspicion is the right one, Matthew. That and no other is 
 the guilty man." 
 
 "What have I told you all along, doctor?" said Red- 
 mayne, as the group passed back into the room. " Account 
 for it as you will, there has been deception worked some- 
 how, and Llewellyn is the sole perpetrator of this crime. 
 You must admit the motive." 
 
 " I admit the motive, J admit the suspicion of his 
 conduct, I admit everything, but I will not admit that the 
 man Trupp told me anything but the truth; 'for I am 
 absolutely, and beyond all question, convinced that he did 
 not. I haven't been in the world three-score years, and 
 been a doctor for five and thirty, without learning something 
 of human nature, and it is my deliberate conviction that 
 that man spoke the truth ; and that being so, how are
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 2?.") 
 
 you to believe your suspicions are correct 1 The thing is 
 a rank impossibility." 
 
 " Doctor, you see deepest ; you discover most ; and you 
 believe least. There is and must be a way of accounting 
 for it." 
 
 " Believe me, you are wrong," answered the doctor, with 
 a shake of his head. " The difference between you and me 
 is that I go on reason and evidence ; you go on fancy and 
 prejudice. If the balance of evidence points to a conclusion 
 that is against my interest, 1 accept it, simply because the 
 balance of evidence does point to it." 
 
 " Well, if I am wrong there's one man who can clear up 
 the mystery. We have followed your method hitherto > 
 we have taken reason and evidence ; and we have exhausted 
 every source of information. There is only one thing more 
 we can do. We have come to the fountain-head now, anil." 
 added Kedmayne, slowly and significantly, " there's only 
 the breadth of a street between us and it. I will not be 
 baulked any longer. 1 have been informed and misin- 
 formed, guided and misguided, long enough. By this time 
 to-morrow night 1 will have heard the truth from the lips 
 of Llewellyn himself." 
 
 "Matthew, what would you do?" Esther exc'laimed, 
 speaking under the influence of the stern, set expression 
 of his face, rather than his words. 
 
 " I mean to put it to the touch, Ksther, whether we are 
 both to give up for ever the new hojte we have gained 
 to-night, or whether I am to claim this little hand as my 
 own again," lie 1 said, lightly, with (puck change of mood, as 
 he took fondly into his own the hand she laid ujxin his 
 arm. 
 
 " Mat, dear Mat, be careful for fur both our sakcs. Do 
 not run into danger. Remember he is desperate." 
 
 "Not more so than 1 am. Till to-morrow night I am 
 bound by the promise I gave you in my letter ; by then 
 we shall see, in the doctor's own words, whether our paths 
 in the future are to be together or apart."
 
 276 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 The doctor moved the lamp so that its light fell full upon 
 Redmayne's face. 
 
 "Go on, Matthew," said Esther. "Speak without any 
 reservation. Tell me everything." 
 
 " I must confess I am curious to know how you are going 
 to extract the desired information," said the doctor. 
 "Reason and evidence fail there." 
 
 " There is only one way. I have not forgotten that even 
 if we succeed never so completely, that whatever is done 
 must be done in secret. I gave up all hope of ever bring- 
 ing this man to public trial long ago when I first read 
 your letter from New Plymouth, Esther. To-morrow 
 night I shall meet him face to face in his own house, tax 
 him with the committal of this crime, bring forward all the 
 evidence we have or can assume, and demand a full con- 
 fession of his share in that night's work." 
 
 " My poor Catherine ! Only show me the proof of her 
 innocence!" cried Esther, breathlessly, interlacing her 
 fingers, and clasping her hands closely together. " How 
 I shall pray for your success." 
 
 " Beautifully simple, and eminently dramatic," said the 
 doctor. " If that is all you trust to, Mat, I fear you must 
 make up your mind for failure the most utter and entire. 
 Consider for a moment what such a confession would mean 
 for him ; and remember that however skilfully you may 
 utilize what evidence we have gained to-night, Llewellyn 
 has too strong a defence, even in Trupp's story alone, to 
 fear anything in the shape of mere circumstantial evidence 
 you can bring forward, short of that of an eye-witness- 
 which is impossible." 
 
 " Let the event prove which is right. My mind is made 
 up, and nothing shall induce me to alter it. To-morrow 
 shall see me either finally successful, or finally defeated. I 
 should be a miserable coward if I delayed a day longer." 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. " If you will you 
 will, and there's an end of it. But at least, if you must 
 venture on this course, let me go with you. Let us go
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 277 
 
 together, Mat. I have been of some assistance up to this 
 point, I may be of still more before it ends." 
 
 " Willingly, doctor. There is nothing I should like 
 better." 
 
 " I know well I could not dissuade you if I tried, 
 Matthew," said Esther, going up to him, and placing her 
 hands on his shoulders, and looking in his eyes ; " but if I 
 could I would not. There is nothing I long for now as I 
 do that this horrid mystery may be cleared up once and for 
 ever. Since Doctor Carmichael has been with us he has 
 told us all you have both done to unearth the truth, and 
 now I think with you that there is only one way in which 
 it can be cleared up. L do so long to have this terrible 
 suspense ended, and to know whether Kate is really 
 innocent or not. You have truth and right on your side. 
 Go and meet this man, and- and (lod help us both. If 
 I were not a weak, puny woman I may not go 
 
 with you, but I will pray for your success. Ixit mo come 
 here and watch when you have entered the house. It will 
 seem as if I were nearer to you as if the danger must bo 
 less." 
 
 " There is no danger, my love, do not think it. To-morrow 
 night will see the end of all our doubts and misgivings, and 
 make you a free woman, and me a free man, once more ; 
 trust me." 
 
 "1 will try and believe it for your sake ami Catherine's. 
 Poor Catherine. How strange it. seems. How little she 
 guessed it was for her sake we brought her with us from 
 New Plymouth. How F shall long to tell her all I have 
 seen and heard when I go back to her to-night. Vet she 
 must not perhaps may never know it. Oh, Matthew, if 
 it were only possible to gain the knowledge that is locked 
 up and forgotten in her pa>t life, how easy your ta>k would 
 be." 
 
 " I have it already, Esther. You yourself have given it 
 to me, though you little thought it at the time. I rend it 
 weeks ago in your diary. With that, and what we have
 
 278 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 gained since, I believe we know all we need to gain our 
 end. When you say good-night to Catherine this evening, 
 try and be happy with the thought that to-morrow will see 
 the last shadow of suspicion removed from her for ever, and 
 with it the last shadow from your life and mine. And now 
 it is getting late. I am afraid I have forgotten myself, and 
 said more than I should, and have excited you. Let the 
 doctor and me see you and Miss Winterson to your hotel." 
 
 The doctor was a few moments later than the others in 
 leaving, and as he walked along the passage to the front 
 door he saw Theodore Hawkshaw, with an air as if he had 
 been lying in wait for him, approaching with an open letter 
 in his hand. 
 
 "Why, Theodore," he said, nojbicing the expression on 
 his face, "something has happened surely. What is it? 
 Nothing wrong with the play, I hope." 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing," answered the playwright, with 
 the bitter irony of one who has been so long familiar with 
 reverses of fortune as to calculate on them beforehand ; 
 "only what I have expected. Only that the girl T have 
 been deceived into trusting up till the very last moment has 
 failed me." 
 
 " No ! The girl who feared a contingency requiring her 
 at home 1 " 
 
 " The same. I have just received a note from her, telling 
 me she can't come. I am in despair. This was the night 
 of the last rehearsal. To-morrow night is the night, and 
 now look at me," said Theodore, extending his arms before 
 him in abandonment ; "see the position I am in. I have 
 exhausted all my acquaintance. I have appealed to every 
 one. Can you help me 1 " 
 
 "I am sorry, Theodore," said the doctor, buttoning up 
 his coat, and passing on with the air of a man refusing 
 alms to an importunate beggar. " I'm afraid I can't on 
 such short notice. Could you not postpone it for a day ? " 
 
 " Great heaven, if I did I should have three places
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 279 
 
 vacant instead of one. It is impossible. I can see nothing 
 but ruin," said Theodore, following the callous doctor along 
 the passage with the open letter extended in his hand. 
 " What am I to do I I must have somebody." 
 
 " It is an awkward fix certainly," answered the doctor, 
 who had opened the door, and was looking along the 
 darkened street to catch a glimpse of his companions. 
 " But it is really no use appealing to me, Theodore. I 
 should be most happy to help you in any way possible ; 
 but I am quite unable to suggest anything, except that the 
 time has not come yet, and we none of us know what 
 twenty-four hours may bring forth. And now I must be off 
 my friends are waiting for me." 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 EVER since dusk a light had been burning in the window 
 of Llewellyn's house, and on the balcony of the house 
 opposite the motionless figure of a woman was standing. 
 A door at the farther end of the balcony opened. A man 
 paused for a moment on the threshold, looking keenly 
 into the dimness, and then walked quickly towards the 
 woman. 
 
 " What, Esther," he said, in surprise, " begun your vigil 
 already 1 I have been looking for you everywhere. Let 
 me ask Miss Winterson or Catherine to keep you company." 
 
 "No, no, Matthew. Do not disturb them. I would 
 rather not have any one with me I would rather be alone. 
 . . . You you have come to say goo 1-b ye." 
 
 " Good-bye ? Xo, why should I say good-bye ? I have 
 come to ask you to wish me good luck." 
 
 She paused thoughtfully before answering. 
 
 " Since I have been up here, Matthew all day long, 
 indeed I have been thinking of what passed between us 
 last evening, and what you are about to do to-night. It is
 
 280 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 the last moment, bat it is not too late. Think again is it 
 wise?" 
 
 "Yes, Esther, under the circumstances it is the wisest 
 thing possible and the only thing. But why this sudden 
 change of mind ? Last night 
 
 "I know I know," she answered, regretfully. "Last 
 night I urged you to go. I was excited then ; I am not 
 now. Since I have been watching that lighted window 
 opposite, I cannot keep my mind from running on the 
 thought of what the light behind it may see in the course 
 of another hour. Llewellyn is there, Matthew, and it 
 terrifies me. Let me unsay what I said last night. I am 
 afraid to think what I have urged you to do in meeting 
 such a man as he must be when he is driven to bay. 
 
 When that door closes upon you " She shuddered, 
 
 and drew her shawl around her, and left the sentence 
 unfinished. 
 
 " Nonsense, dear. You have let your mind brood too 
 long over it, and have conjured a mole-hill into a mountain. 
 Look on the bright side. Think how near our best hopes 
 are to fulfilment how much for you and me and Catherine 
 depends upon the next hour." He drew her arm within 
 his, and walked with her up and down the balcony. 
 " "What a strange tale your life has been since that day 
 how long ago it seems to me now when I left you at the 
 church door before we had been ten minutes husband and 
 wife. We can afford to look back at that time now, for 
 the last chapter of that tale closes to-night, Esther, and 
 after all you have done and suffered, it must have it can 
 only have a happy ending for us all." 
 
 "I do not know," she said, sadly. "I have learnt not 
 to count so surely on the future. Don't think me foolish, 
 but I have been haunted all night long with horrid dreams 
 about you, and all day with a nameless dread of some 
 further sorrow awaiting us. I cannot shake off their 
 influence. Think again, Matthew, think again, and do 
 not go to-night."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 281 
 
 "Do not try to dissuade me, Esther. I would rather 
 have five years struck out of my life than fail to meet 
 Llewellyn to-night. Courage, my love. This will never 
 do. You are trembling like a leaf ; you are letting your 
 foolish fears run away with you." 
 
 " I cannot help it," she said, putting her hand over her 
 heart. " Do not laugh at me. I I cannot tell you all I 
 feel, but I fear all is not to end well. Do not go," she 
 pleaded, returning to the one thought that oppressed her. 
 " Listen to me. I am your wife. Do not go. Do not 
 tempt fortune any further. Do not face that terrible man 
 to-night." 
 
 She had taken both his hands in hers in the earnestness 
 of her pleading. In the dim light that struggled up from 
 the street lamps, Kedmayne looked down at her white, 
 upturned face. 
 
 " Say, rather, you imll be my wife when once this 
 wretched mystery is cleared up, and set at rest for ever. 
 It is that hope that is urging me forward to-night. My 
 mind is made up, Esther. Do not seek to turn me from 
 my purpose ; I shall only pain you by refusal." 
 
 "What can I say?" she cried in nervous desperation. 
 " Mat, dear Mat, you do not realize what you are about to 
 do. Ife is desperate, he will do you a mischief he may 
 kill you." 
 
 "Even that would be better than to live as we arc living 
 now. But do not fear. It will not come to that. He 
 will not be so desperate but that ho will accept the terms 
 that offer him his freedom. Come, Esther, let us forgot 
 the past and all the restrictions and conditions we have 
 laid upon ourselves for a moment, and let us part like 
 husband and wife." 
 
 " Ah, then you do fear 
 
 "I fear nothing, my love, but to miss this last oppor- 
 tunity that at least offers something more than a proba- 
 bility of bringing our two paths in life together again." 
 He drew the white, frightened face close to his own, ami
 
 282 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 kissed the trembling lips. " And now, good-bye for only 
 two short hours." 
 
 Five minutes later she was standing in the darkness, 
 holding her breath unconsciously, like one who knows she 
 has arrived at a crisis in her life, all her other senses 
 suspended and absorbed in the strained gaze she bent upon 
 the lighted window opposite so strained and so long 
 continued that when she closed her eyes in mental prayer, 
 spectral green and crimson windows still flashed before 
 her. 
 
 .... She had seen the door of Llewellyn's house open 
 and close upon the forms of Redmayne and the doctor. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 REDMAYNE'S knock was answered by a careworn, elderly- 
 looking woman Llewellyn's mother, they both concluded 
 at once. She looked at them doubtfully when they said 
 their business was with Llewellyn, her hands nervously 
 clasping and unclasping her dress at her side. She left 
 them at the door, and stepped into a room opening off from 
 the passage. While she had been speaking, the sound of a 
 heavy, muffled tramp a sound as of some one pacing back- 
 wards and forwards in slippers had been audible from the 
 direction of this room. It ceased for a moment, and then, 
 as the old lady re-appeared and invited them to enter, it 
 commenced again. She spoke reluctantly, and the doubtful 
 look on her face had deepened. She hesitated as she uttered 
 the tardy invitation, hesitated as she closed the door behind 
 them, and hesitated still longer for the third time as she 
 laid her hand on the door of the room whence the muffled 
 tramp, tramp was sounding. She glanced from face to 
 face, raised her head as if to speak and then opened the 
 door in silence, and allowed them to pass through.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 283 
 
 The tall, stooping, yet powerful-looking figure of a man, 
 wrapped in a dark dressing-gown, with hands clasped 
 behind his back, paused in his pacing to and fro, and 
 looked up as they entered. There was the slight inequality 
 iu the height of the shoulders, all the more apparent from 
 his stooping attitude, the same evil-looking face, with its 
 close-cropt black beard and deep-sunk dark piercing eyes, 
 that the doctor remembered seeing at the theatre more 
 than three years before ; and as he exchanged the pre- 
 liminary civilities, there was the same quick, suspicious 
 expression in his eyes as there had been a moment before 
 in his mo'.her's. 
 
 " J am curious to know," he began, and the suspicion in 
 his eyes was reproduced in the tone of his voice, " what it 
 is you want with me. I do not think we have ever had 
 the pleasure of meeting before." 
 
 " You and I have certainly never met before," answered 
 Kedmayne, and Llewellyn observed, with a furtive appre- 
 hension, the appearance of concerted action with which the 
 reply was given ; " my friend and I, I may say at once, 
 have called upon business concerning certain things which 
 took place some three years ago things of which you alone 
 can inform us." 
 
 The evil face seemed to contract, and grow darker and 
 more secretive. The eyebrows lowered into a straight 
 black line, the hands clenched rather than clasped one 
 another behind him. 
 
 "What things 1" 
 
 " We are alone here ? There is no chance of what wo 
 may say being overheard ? " 
 
 " We are quite alone. P>ut I am aware of no reason 
 why we should fear anything we may say being overheard. 
 Pray, go on," said Llewellyn, in a constrained voice, his 
 face becoming a dark, insensible mask. 
 
 " I refer to what took place at Monk's Bridge on the 
 night of the lltli June." 
 
 There was a moment's pause before the answer came.
 
 284 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 Llewellyn halted, and exchanged glances with his visitors, 
 as if he were deliberating whether the moment had come 
 when he should throw off the restraint he was putting upon 
 himself. 
 
 " The llth of June, 1886," he said slowly at last. " Yes, 
 I remember the date perfectly, and with good reason. It 
 was on that date I experienced the greatest loss I have 
 known." 
 
 "The date is fixed in my mind by an event of a very 
 different character. To me it is always associated with 
 the death of a certain Edgar Stadding, at Lowry Bay. Do 
 you not remember it ? " 
 
 " I remember the trial the murderess was a woman 
 suspected of a liaison with the murdered man, was she not 1 
 and acquitted, if I remember rightly, under circum- 
 stances of very strong suspicion." 
 
 " Whatever any one may have been deceived into believ- 
 ing at the time," said Redmayne, with an ominous precision 
 of utterance, " it has since been ascertained that he who 
 committed the crime, and he who rode Scythe-bearer that 
 night, were one and the same person." 
 
 It came upon Llewellyn unexpectedly. Impassive as he 
 had schooled his face to be, a swift spasm shot across it. 
 
 " You are perhaps not aware that the loss I refer to was 
 no other than that of the horse you have just mentioned," 
 he said, steadying his voice with a palpable effort. 
 
 " So far from that being the case, we are perfectly well 
 aware of the fact," answered Redmayne, significantly. 
 
 "Then I am at a loss to understand the tone this 
 interview is taking," said Llewellyn slowly, his eyes ablaze, 
 a great vertical fold showing itself in the middle of his 
 forehead. "I am not in the humour to be trifled with. 
 Either state your purpose at once in intruding yourself 
 here, or I shall be under the necessity of ridding myself of 
 your company." 
 
 " Our ultimate purpose you have probably already more 
 than guessed at I will make it plainer later on. In the
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 285 
 
 first place it is the fact" his eyes fixed themselves intently 
 upon Llewellyn's " that your first wife was alive in France 
 at the very time that you were living with your second at 
 Monk's Bridge." 
 
 Redmayne had calculated upon the unexpectedness of 
 his reply, and he was not disappointed. Had he accused 
 Llewellyn point-blank with the ruimler of Stadding he 
 knew the charge would have been met with an unmoved 
 front ; but as it was Llewellyn stood motionless in the 
 attitude he had assumed a moment before his face, the 
 lip fast clenched between his teeth, was the face of a man 
 concentrating all his powers in one sustained effort at self- 
 control, but which, in spite of him, records the emotions of 
 the soul behind it. The blood ebbed slowly away, and left 
 it pale, leaden, and working. 
 
 Redmayne paused without removing his gaxe, but 
 Llewellyn made no effort to reply. 
 
 " In the second place, because you discovered on the 
 night of the llth June that this secret was no longer your 
 own, but was the common possession of your wife ami 
 Stadding, and tint the danger you had to dread was the 
 immediate exposure of that secret." 
 
 Redmayne paused again, but beyond the wild, dumb 
 language of his lowering countenance, Llewellyn answered 
 not. 
 
 " And, in the third place, because, as I have said, the 
 man who rode Scythe-bearer and the man who murdered 
 Kdgar Stadding are one and the same and you well know 
 who that man was." 
 
 "You lie !" 
 
 The voice was so tremulous with passion, the words so 
 thick and guttural, that they were barely intelligible. 
 
 " I do not lie," said Redmayne deliberately, and as 
 deliberately measuring the other with his eyes. "I have 
 it in the very handwriting of the man whose death you 
 plotted and carried out on the night when you tir.-t learned 
 that he had discovered the secret of your life
 
 286 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 " It is a lie ! The letters were burned.'' 
 "The letters possibly ; but not the stamps, and the 
 messages beneath those stamps. They were preserved in a 
 way I need not enter into now, and at this moment are in 
 our hands with all the weight of evidence which they con- 
 tain against you." 
 
 Llewellyn stood silent and motionless for some moments, 
 and then, with a sudden, " We'll prove that," strode 
 nervously towards the door. Redmayne divined his inten- 
 tion, and stepped in front of him. 
 
 " One moment ! Hear what I have to sa} T , first ! If you 
 have been outwitted and you have been it was neither 
 from want of precaution on your part or your mother's - 
 and you are not in a fit state to speak to her now. Believe 
 me, before this interview is over you will have much need 
 to keep at least one friend by you. I tell you it is useless 
 you cannot avoid fate you have played your last card, 
 and you have lost. Cunningly as your plot was laid, you 
 have not succeeded in hiding what you did that night." 
 " Stand from that door ! " 
 
 " Hear me out, and you will see how useless is any 
 further attempt at concealment. On that night the llth 
 of June you had an envelope placed in your hands on the 
 Wellington Railway Station. On opening it you found 
 that envelope contained a letter your wife had that day 
 received. You read it, tore it up, and tossed it on the fire, 
 and then read the accompanying note. It was in your 
 mother's hand, and it drew your special attention to these 
 words which your wife had that day used : ' If you find it 
 so difficult to deal with t\vo faces on one pair of shoulders, 
 take care how you deal with two faces when they belong 
 to different people, especially when those faces are female 
 faces.' These words, in themselves, might mean anything 
 or nothing. When I first heard them they pointed to a 
 certain suspicion, but nothing more. To you they had 
 only one meaning, and that was that your wife had dis- 
 covered the very secret you had striven so studiously to
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 2S7 
 
 hide from her ; more, that it was also known to one who 
 hail declared himself your enemy, and who was prepared to 
 use the knowledge he had gained to the very uttermost 
 against you. I know how you found out the message, 
 the one message of many that passed between Studding and 
 your wife, what that message contained, and what resolution 
 on your part followed it. It was hidden beneath the post- 
 age stamp. It gave the name of your first wife, the place 
 and date of the marriage ; it named the hour of meeting 
 between Stadding and her whom you had hitherto called 
 your wife, and also" Redmayne hesitated an instant 
 as if to read more surely the expression on the other's face, 
 and then added slowly '' that Stadding would have with 
 him the Prefect's letter the letter which would prove 
 beyond all doubt the truth of what lie had said as to your 
 h'rst marriage. It was between ten and eleven at night 
 when you read this. At once you realized the danger, and 
 made up your mind how to meet it. You saw the oppor- 
 tunity not only of ridding yourself of your enemy, but at the 
 same time of getting into your own possession whatever 
 evidence he might have against } ou. The hour was late, 
 and the distance far to go. There was but one way in 
 which your purpose could be accomplished, and you adopted 
 that one way. You threw behind you the considerat ion of 
 how much you had staked upon Scythe-bearer winning lh' 
 Cup. You stole down from your room Kedmayne 
 
 was speaking rapidly, yet cautiously, and here lie brought 
 all his powers of observation to bear in the searching ( _a/.e 
 he bent upon Llewellyn's face ; and iiiM-iii-iMc and impa>- 
 sive as Llewellyn strove to make his expression, there was 
 written upon it that which confirmed Redmayne in the 
 course he was taking. He went on ' You stole (L> key 
 from your sleeping groom, took the ('up favourite out of 
 the stable, rode, at whatever sacrifice of your horse, out to 
 Lowry Bay. and there met .Stadding." 
 
 "Go on," said Llewellvn, hoarselv. as Redmnyne paused. 
 
 " Xow I will tell you our object in coming heie t..-night.
 
 288 MATTHEW KEDMAYNE. 
 
 In the face of all this, are you so mad as to invite public 
 trial 1 I tell you at once it does not enter into my plans 
 to seek to bring that trial upon you one moment ! but 
 only on the condition that you are sufficiently alive to 
 your own interests to grant my object without it. 
 Knowing who I am, you know in what relation I stand to 
 the lady who stood her trial for this crime. Give me a 
 clear, unequivocal account of your share in that night's 
 work, and you are free to dispose^ of yourself as you will. 
 I ask no more of you." 
 
 " You have provided yourself already with a witness," 
 Llewellyn sneered, "but you have reckoned without your 
 host." 
 
 " You refuse the terms I offer ? " 
 
 " You speak of my share in that night's work. To what 
 share in it have I pleaded guilty 1 I care not for your 
 terms ; they are nothing to me. Do your worst. You 
 have seen this case tried once, and you know with what 
 result. What sane man or woman is there who has heard 
 of it but believes the woman who was tried was the 
 murderess 1 ? If she were innocent why did she not speak, 
 and even if she be innocent, what is that to me 1 why do 
 you come to me at all 1 " 
 
 " She who was tried for that murder," said Redmayne 
 slowly, his voice quivering with rising passion, "was my 
 wife. It is in her name I have come here to-night. It is 
 considei-ation for her that has induced me to make the con- 
 cession which I have just offered you ; but, by heaven, if 
 you persist in your refusal, no earthly consideration shall 
 prevent me from taking you by the throat, and wringing the 
 truth out of your miserable carcase. Let me tell you one 
 more thing you know as well as I, that it was not she, but 
 another, who saw you commit the murder of Edgar Stadding." 
 
 Once more the dark face blanched, and Hedmayne knew 
 that the shot had gone home. 
 
 " Then if it were not she, why did she neither prove it 
 nor even seek to prove it ] She was silent then ; she best
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 280 
 
 knew why and you and she best know why she will keep 
 silent to the end." 
 
 Llewellyn had retreated to the centre of the room, and 
 he and Redinayne now stood confronting one another with 
 only the width of the table between them. There was a 
 long pause each stood glaring into the other's eyes, one 
 flushed with uncontrollable indignation and contempt ; the 
 other pale, almost ghastly, with sullen, obstinate desperation. 
 
 " Have I not yet convinced you ? While you have been 
 dwelling in your fool's paradise in fancied safety your track 
 has been followed inch by inch. You have baffled mo and 
 escaped me long enough, and caused misery enough. I 
 have longed for weeks to meet you as I never yet longed 
 for any earthly thing, and now we have met, do not think 
 I will ever leave this room till I have obtained to the very 
 uttermost all that I have proposed to myself to gain. You 
 think my wife will remain silent to the end ? Do not count 
 too surely on that. Suppose she does not. Suppose she 
 were to describe before judge and jury, as she has described 
 to me, a certain glade in a forest at midnight, ami two men 
 meeting and talking angrily together, and presently closing 
 in a death struggle ; the moon bursting out upon them as 
 they struggle; one man plunging a knife into the other, 
 and the wounded man sinking upon the ground ; the 
 murderer taking from the body of his victim a certain 
 Prefect's letter, and then making off ; the woman who had 
 witnessed it all coming forward from among the bushes. 
 You recognize the scene 1 Suppose we call one man Stadding, 
 and the other yourself 
 
 In their intense pro-occupation and excitement neither 
 lledmayne nor Llewellyn were conscious of anything going 
 on around them ; they had both forgotten the very presence 
 of the doctor in the room. Llewellyn could hardly 1*> said 
 to breathe as he listened to Redmayne's rej>etition, almost 
 in Esther's own words, of what she had years before de- 
 scribed in her diary. Ho started as if an electric shock 
 had passed through him when the doctor, for the tirst time.
 
 290 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 taking part in what was going forward, placed his hand 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Suppose, further, that we have with us that very 
 woman. Look there ! and own the evidence against you 
 is at last complete ! " 
 
 He pointed through the window. The blind had been 
 drawn up to its full height. Llewellyn followed the direction 
 of the doctor's extended arm, stood for a moment motionless, 
 then reeled and gasped forth something not an articulate 
 cry, but a sound like that of a wild animal. Had it not 
 been for the doctor's firm grasp upon his arm he would have 
 fallen. 
 
 On the balcony of the house opposite, motionless, statu- 
 esque, in the centre of a flood of white light, stood the 
 figure of a woman. It was Catherine. It was, moreover, 
 Theodore's balcony scene. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Llewellyn flung his hands before his eyes with an 
 abandoned gesture, and gapped out: "The very woman 
 the very woman ! " 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 HE remained sitting in the chair into which he had 
 fallen, his hand shielding his face from the light. The last 
 pretence of resistance was gone ; the desperate obstinacy 
 that had characterized his manner a few minutes before 
 had given way to a broken, spiritless resignation. It was 
 .some time before his excitement subsided sufficiently to 
 allow him to speak. He rose, and recommenced his slow 
 pacing up and down the room. 
 
 " Perhaps you are more disposed to accept my offer now," 
 said Kedmayne, congratulating himself that the last obstacle 
 was overcome, but still eyeing the other warily. 
 
 "It it is no part of your intention -" began Llewellyn,
 
 MATTHEW RF.DMAYNE. 291 
 
 halting for a moment, nnd raising his head to glance at 
 Redmayne, and then letting it droop dejectedly 011 his 
 breast again. 
 
 " Whatever my desire may be, you may consider yourself 
 free of any apprehension that you will be brought to public 
 trial, if that is what you mean," said Redmayne shortly, 
 with no effort to conceal the contempt he felt. 
 
 "It does not need it does not need," said Llewellyn, 
 mournfully. " My punishment is almost complete without 
 that almost, for the end is to come yet, and it is not far 
 
 off. It is as well you came when you did Yes, 
 
 it was I who killed Studding." lie made the confession 
 without any evidence of a feeling of compunction, without 
 a moment's alteration in the dead, impassive manner that 
 had descended upon him since he had seen Catherine's 
 accusing figure, even without an appearance of understand- 
 ing the full significance of the words he used. " Jt is not, 
 I suppose, in the least your desire to hear what I may 
 have to say in my defence and I say nothing ; but you 
 will see that I can at least plead the extremest provocation. 
 As for the trial, it was incomprehensible to me from begin- 
 ning to end. If it were possible to hide crime, mine would 
 have been hidden. Mysteries and mysteries to no one 
 more than to me seemed to spin themselves from the very 
 air between me and the law; thn whole trial was a ti-Mte 
 of mysteries which I never tried to understand, further 
 than that they meant for mo concealment and safety the 
 most complete, and the most unlooked-for so complete 
 that had I found Scythe-bearer alive and uninjured after 
 that night's work I should have received the story brought 
 out in Court as every one else did, and believed that I had 
 been duped by a mere dream, and that 1 had not even leit 
 my room, except in imagination. I fail t understand, 
 indeed, what can be your reason for demanding thi> con- 
 fession of me at all when you are able to describe the very 
 scene of the murder; but since you wish it. so b it. 
 
 "As you have said, an envelope was put into my hand
 
 292 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 on the platform of the Wellington Railway Station. I had 
 gone there with my friend Trupp. It was his appointment ; 
 he was to meet a friend there, but his friend did not put 
 in an appearance, and I invited him to return with me to 
 Monk's Bridge. Stadding, as you know, was in the train 
 that arrived while I was at the station, and so also was 
 was the other, whom the girl that gave me the letter, and 
 who afterwards gave evidence at the trial, swore she had 
 recognized. I saw neither of them. 
 
 " It was between nine and half-past when I opened the 
 packet. There was my mother's note, the letter my wife 
 had that day received, and the envelope in which that 
 letter had been originally delivered at the cottage at Lowry 
 Bay. I read my wife's letter first. I do not remember 
 what signature was attached. It was mere girlish gossip, 
 and before I had read to the end I tore it up and threw it 
 in the fire. I was sorry I had done so when 1 read the 
 accompanying note, for then I saw at once that, careful as 
 we had been to guard against anything of the kind, she 
 had a secret correspondent. It would be useless for me to 
 affect anything in the way of reservation, and I do not. 
 My wife and I had been on the very worst of terms. That 
 secret correspondent, I had good reason to believe, was 
 Stadding. He had been an acquaintance of my wife's 
 before her marriage ; and after her marriage he presumed 
 sufficiently on that acquaintance for me to threaten him on 
 one occasion with the treatment he deserved if he ever 
 again made himself disagreeable by obtruding his company 
 where he was plainly told it was not desired. 
 
 " You were right as to the words to which my attention 
 was drawn ; and also in your surmise that for me they 
 could have but one possible meaning. But what puzzled 
 me was the strange alteration in my wife's behaviour 
 after the receipt of the letter which I had only a minute 
 or two before thrown away as worthless. One would 
 suppose that it had been in that letter she received 
 the information which had brought about this sudden
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 293 
 
 change of behaviour, yet I could not conceive how that 
 information could have been conveyed. I suppose it was 
 fortunate, or unfortunate, which you will that I had 
 burned the letter, for it would only have misled me, and 
 possibly I should have allowed myself to spend so much 
 time in trying to extract a message it did not contain that 
 my attention would either never have been directed to where 
 the message really was, or I would have found out the 
 truth only when it was too late. 
 
 " As it was, my first glance was towards the envelope to 
 which the letter originally belonged. I took it up aimlessly, 
 and turned it about and looked inside it, and then, unthink- 
 ingly, tore it into bits, and was about to throw it after the 
 letter, when something happened to catch my oye. In tear- 
 ing, a portion of the adhesive side of the stamp had become 
 exposed. It was covered with marks which on the first 
 glance bore the appearance of a faint reversed impression of 
 a number of closely-written words. It was very broken and 
 very indistinct, but it was enough to rouse my suspicions. I 
 selected those parts of the envelope to which pieces of the 
 torn stamp were adhering. I removed the port ions of stamp 
 carefully, and found that my suspicion had been the 
 correct one. I had a connected message before me. 
 
 " It was necessarily a very short one, but it contained 
 much in little space. It gave name, place, and date in 
 connection with a marriage I had contracted early in life 
 in France; mentioned half-past one in the morning as the 
 safest time for the elopement to take place my wife to 
 make her escape when she heard the signul that he was 
 waiting for her; spoke of friends who would sec her vindi- 
 cated, and promised that he would bring with him the all- 
 important proof in the shape <>f the prefect's letter. 
 
 "For a moment this sudden, unthought-of revelation 
 paralyzed me. I thought of the danger in which 1 stood. 
 
 "It is no part of my confession to tell you anything as 
 to my first marriage. That is included in the affairs of my 
 own private life, and shall remain so. ^utlicient that it was
 
 294 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 a fact. It may seem strange for a man guilty of such a 
 crime as mine to excuse himself for the lesser one of having 
 deserted one woman and deceived another. AY hen I 
 married my first wife I was young ; she was designing. 
 She developed into a drunkard and a termagant. She hated 
 me, and I hated her, and after a time I left her and came 
 out^ here, and married some one else. That was all. But 
 unfortunately for me my second wife had friends, and they 
 had insisted upon our marriage taking place at the French 
 Consulate. Mine Avas a common enough offence, but a 
 very serious one in the eyes of the law, and the penalty is 
 a heavy one. 
 
 " I did not fear what my wife might do alone. She was 
 a woman of very weak character, and any resistance 
 she could make might be easily disposed of. Lot me say 
 here that I am quite prepared to believe it was this weak- 
 ness of character that had allowed Stadding to gain suffi- 
 cient influence over her to induce her to keep up this secret 
 correspondence. I suppose she and I grew to detest each 
 other as much as had been the case with my first wife ; but 
 whatever there may have been of evil design in what was 
 going forward was on Stadding's part; not on hers. I do 
 not know for certain where he obtained his knowledge of my 
 eady life, but I have met at least one man in the street who 
 hailed from the same town as myself. News of that kind 
 travels fast, and the fact remained he did know. It was 
 he I had reason to fear. I knew it would be his dearest 
 interest to set the law in motion against me. 
 
 " It was the supreme crisis of my life, and in five minutes 
 I had grasped the situation and decided on my course of 
 action. Possibly the unexpectedness of it the excitement 
 may have carried me away. Had I had more time, perhaps 
 I might have acted differently. The scheme that suggested 
 itself to me may seem a desperate one it IMS a des- 
 perate one ; but I was in a desperate position, and 
 instant action was the first necessity. I looked at my 
 watch ; it Avas now ten o'clock.
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 295 
 
 " This \vas the plan I had formed : I would myself ke?p 
 the appointment which Stadding had made with my wife. 
 Several considerations combined to form the motive for 
 what I had made up my mind to do. Stadding was my 
 declared enemy. He was about to do his best to involve 
 me in proceedings which would certainly result in unbearable 
 exposure I did not know sufficient of the law to know the 
 exact extent of my danger. My fears may have exaggerated 
 it. I had the dread before me of, in all likelihood, getting a 
 long term of imprisonment. Stadding was to carry on his 
 person that night the very proof of the charge he intended 
 should lie brought against me the proof I was prepared to 
 risk anything to gain. Added to all this, he had outwitted 
 me, and was about to elope with my wife, and use her as an 
 instrument against me. Yes, I would meet him. Hut there 
 were difficulties in the way. It would be fatal, in view of 
 what the next morning would reveal, for it to be shown 
 that I had been absent from my room during the night. 
 Owing to Trupp being in the house I was placed in an 
 exceedingly awkward situation ; but a moment's reflection 
 showed me a means by which I might make his presence one 
 of the strongest possible circumstances in my favour if the 
 worst came to the worst. At all hazards I must meet 
 Stadding; it was equally important, as I s:iy, that my 
 absence from the house should not lie detected. Very well. 
 I would get a substitute to take my place in the room for 
 the few hours I would need for my purpose. If it was 
 skilfully managed there was very little danger of the decep- 
 tion being discovered. 
 
 '' I had no difficulty in fixing upon the substitute. Thero 
 was a man I had occasionally employed about the stable 
 named Murdock. 
 
 " I need have no hesitation in naming him. for he is dead 
 now. There was not a great difference in our height, and 
 his hair was the same colour as mine for my purpose a very 
 powerful recommendation. He was a lazy, good-for-nothing 
 rascal, who, I have liitio doubt, would not have required
 
 296 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 
 
 much inducement to take the whole task off my hands for 
 me altogether. But he had one virtue he knew how to 
 hold his tongue. I was well enough acquainted with his 
 habits to know where to find him at any moment, especially 
 at night, and before eleven o'clock I had seen him at one of 
 his haunts in town, and stated my proposal. 
 
 " He had gambled away his last shilling when I saw him, 
 and had not as much left as would provide him with a 
 lodging for the night. All he had to do was, instead of 
 taking refuge in the first shelter, to sleep in a comfortable 
 bed, to keep a still tongue, to forget anything that might 
 happen between then and morning, and pocket a crisp ten- 
 pound bank-note. It was very simple, and he accepted it 
 willingly. We returned to Monk's Bridge together. 
 
 "The next step was to make what provision I could 
 against the chance of discovery by Trupp, and as he was in 
 a strange house the chances were all in my favour. 
 Discovery was almost impossible so long as he did not 
 happen to strike a light during my absence, and I made 
 that impossible by getting possession of his matches, and 
 placing any others out of his reach. I not only counter- 
 feited illness, but when I got into bed I left tho lamp 
 burning, for the simple reason that it was the last thing in 
 the world one would do who intended to leave his room by 
 stealth, and so would furnish a strong piece of evidence in 
 my favour should suspicion become directed towards me. 
 I knew at the same time that the fumes would be intoler- 
 able to Trupp, who was greatly troubled with asthma, and 
 that it would not be long before he would either put it out 
 himself or ask me to do so. 
 
 " Everything happened as I had expected. In an hour 
 or less, during which I had marked the herr's cough 
 growing more and more irritable, he got up and put out 
 the light. I seized the moment when his back was turned 
 to give place to the man I had in waiting in the next room. 
 No more disturbance was caused by my substitute in 
 taking my place than would be made by a man turning
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 297 
 
 restlessly in his bed not so much ns was made at the same 
 moment by the herr himself. All my substitute had to do 
 to avoid any reasonable chance of detection was to lie with 
 his face turned away and the clothes drawn well round his 
 shoulders, so that if it should happen that ho were observed 
 by Trupp at all, the back of his head only would be visible ; 
 and, as I have said, his hair was the same colour as my own. 
 
 " The first thing my hand touched in the next room was 
 something lying upon one of the chairs, and which I knew 
 must be Murdock's clothes. At once an idea oc-curred to 
 me, which showed how I might still further disguise my 
 identity. I would wear these clothes instead of my own. 
 Knowing that the quickest possible change of clothing 
 would be required on my return, I huddled on only the 
 hat, coat, and trousers, and taking the boots in my hand I 
 put them on when I was at a safe distance. 
 
 " And now the most dangerous piece of work of all 
 remained to be done to procure the key of the stable from 
 the groom. He had offered it to me in the afternoon, and 
 I bitterly cursed my folly now that I had not taken it. 
 As I drew near Kiddock's quarters I was surprised to see 
 they were lighted up. This was very unusual. His light 
 should have been out hours before. 1 approached the door 
 of his room cautiously, and looked in. 
 
 " He himself was sitting in a chair asleep not far from 
 the bedside, and on the bed itself lay his young daughter, 
 apparently also asleep. Kiddock, I could make out by the 
 light of the lamp, was wearing the waistcoat into the 
 pocket of which I had seen him put the key earlier in the 
 day. There was no time to hesitate. The longer I waited 
 the greater the danger of discovery. The key mu.st In- 
 obtained at whatever risk, and pushing the door stealthily 
 open I stole into the room. Never before in my life had I 
 experienced the sensation 1 felt as I drew nearer and 
 nearer to pick the pocket of my own servant, an 1 knew 
 that the whole safety both of myself and my scheme was 
 depending upon the mere flutter of an eye-lid. If either
 
 298 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 father or daughter should wake I was lost. Had it been 
 possible I should have drawn back then, but it was not 
 possible. There was bare time, and I must go on. I took 
 each pace so carefully, so cautiously, I dwelt so long upon 
 each step that my footing seemed to become uncertain and 
 the floor rise and fall and make me sway from side to side 
 as if I were balancing myself on a narrow plank. The 
 boards creaked now and then, and the sound made me halt 
 anil catch my breath, and look from one sleeper to the 
 other with the dread of seeing one or both of them start 
 up into sudden wakef ulness, and find me standing there in 
 my strange dress. It was the child I feared most. She 
 seemed to sleep so lightly that she could scarcely be said to 
 be unconscious at all. She was restless, and tossed about 
 uneasily ; but neither woke arid at last I stood beside the 
 groom undiscovered. I slipped my finger and thumb 
 gently into his pocket, all the while keeping my eyes fixed 
 steadily on his face, as if I could mesmerize him into a 
 deeper and more insensible sleep. I felt the hard outline 
 of something with my finger-tip, and drew it out. It was 
 the key. A sound from the bed made me turn. The child 
 was sitting up and gazing at me with wide-open eyes, and 
 looking as if she thought she were still asleep, and I was a 
 dream. 
 
 " My presence of mind deserted me utterly. I forgot 
 that to be seen was to be lost, that the first thing the 
 groom would do, even if I were to escape an encounter 
 with him, and secured the horse, would be to go to my 
 room to rouse me, and that my schene would be exposed 
 and I ruined. I acted as if I were in reality a thief whose 
 sole object it was to gain possession of the horse. I darted 
 to the door, and as I reached it I heard the child cry out. 
 Another instant, and I had reached the stables. Familiar 
 as long acquaintance had made me with every square inch 
 of their whole frontage, many precious moments passed 
 moments so long that detection seemed inevitable before 
 the door swung open. I seized the bridle from where it
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 299 
 
 hung upon the wall, led Scythe-bearer into the yard, and 
 sprang, unsaddled as he was, on to his back. At the same 
 instant the groom rushed out of his room with a shout, and 
 sprang at me with the bound of a tiger. My blood was 
 boiling with mad excitement, and had it been Stadding 
 himself, instead of my servant trying to do his duty, I 
 could not have put more deadly force into the blow I dealt 
 him. It did not take full effect, but he staggered back with a 
 low cry, and I dashed furiously past him into the darkness." 
 
 Llewellyn paused in his story, and took two or three 
 turns up and down the room in silence. 
 
 " Of that mad ride through the night at the imminent 
 risk of life and limb both to myself and the animal I 
 bestrode, I need say nothing. Enough, that I overtook 
 Stadding on the way to his appointed place of meeting. 
 As soon as I saw him I sprang from the horse, tethered him 
 to one of the trees, and went forward on foot. We met in 
 a narrow clearing. I taxed him at once with what he was 
 about to do. Up till now, notwithstanding all the pre- 
 cautions I had taken, I had never clearly proposed to 
 myself how I should act when we did meet ; but now the 
 purpose that had lain all the time in the background of my 
 consciousness sprang up from its lair and overmastered 
 me 
 
 " I need not describe to you what followed, for you have 
 already described it to me. 
 
 **** 
 
 " I saw the woman suddenly reveal herself from among 
 the bushes, and I lied. I paused when I reached the 
 shelter of the trees, and looked back. I thought the 
 woman might be my wife ; but it was not. The moonlight 
 shone white upon her face. I saw it clearly. I can never 
 forget it. It was the face I saw half an hour ago. She 
 came near. Stadding struggled to his knoos, and held out 
 his hands to her. At that moment something touched mo 
 on the shoulder. I started and turned as if it load boon 
 the hand of an arresting constable only to see Scythe-
 
 300 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 bearer standing beside me. He had broken loose from his 
 tether. When I looked again toward the woman her hand 
 was raised in the air, and she held something in its grasp. 
 What it really was I could not see owing to the position in 
 which she stood ; but whatever it may have been, I saw 
 her arm sink by her side again. I saw the man clutch at 
 her dress, and fall forward on his face. I saw her stand 
 for a moment looking down at him as he lay, and then 
 clasp her hands before her eyes as if weeping ; and, unable 
 to bear the sight any longer, I threw myself upon my horse, 
 and urged him homeward at his topmost speed 
 
 " In looking back, I believe it was only the tremendous 
 excitement the insanity of that night, only my sheer 
 inability to put two coherent thoughts together, that 
 caused me to adhere to the plan I had formed a few hours 
 before. Had I retained possession of my faculties I should 
 have seen inevitable ruin threatening me on all sides. On 
 the one hand it was a moral certainty that the groom and 
 Trupp had already discovered the deception I had put upon 
 them ; .and on the other, here was this unknown witness 
 who had surprised me in the very committal of my crime. 
 Had I been capable of thought at all, I should have looked 
 upon it as rushing into certain exposure to return to 
 Monk's Bridge at all. But I was not capable of thought ; 
 I was not capable of realizing my position or the full 
 enormity of what I had done. I was not capable of 
 forcing my mind to suggest a fresh course of action. 
 
 "Twice on the ride home Scythe-bearer stumbled and 
 fell upon his knees, and when at last I rode into the yard 
 again, I felt him reel and stagger beneath me. I threw 
 myself from his back, and stole up the stairs to my room, 
 divesting myself of my things as I went. I paused at the 
 door and listened. Not a sound. I looked in stealthily, 
 the blind was drawn aside, and I saw the black form of 
 some one appear in the moonlight at the window. I 
 guessed at once it must be Trupp, who had probably been 
 aroused by hearing Scythe-bearer enter the yard. So far
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. SOI 
 
 nothing appeared to have been discovered ; but what if 
 Trupp should turn to where he supposed I was sleeping to 
 arouse me? What if Murdock, in the meantime, should 
 have fallen asleep ? I pushed the door open a little wider, 
 and, to my unspeakable relief, the signal was understood. 
 While Trupp was still standing with his back turned 
 towards us, Murdock arose, and came silently towards me. 
 We passed one another midway between the door and the 
 bedside. I had only bare time to draw the clothes about 
 me, and assume the attitude of a sleeper, when Trupp 
 turned and called my name. I did not answer, and he 
 .came up to me and shook me by the shoulder, calling out 
 that something had happened in the stables. 
 
 XOTE. The remainder of Llewellyn's confession is omittetl for reasons 
 similar to that given in Herr Trupji's statement. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 IT was late. The balcony scene, with its unrehearsed 
 effects and unsuspected audience, was the finale of 
 Theodore's play, and both actors and audience had gone 
 home an hour ago all except Catherine and Ksther and 
 Miss Dorothy Ann. The author himself, flushed with 
 success, had gone to his own room, and was pacing up and 
 down, putting the question to himself, " What t* there in 
 Shakespeare, after all ? " 
 
 Esther gave no thought to the time, but remained with 
 her eyes fixed upon the door of that terrible house opposite. 
 It was a long time now since Redmnyno and the doctor 
 had set out on their dangerous mission, and she placed a 
 nervous woman's interpretation upon their delay. The 
 light was still shining in the window, and there had Iwen 
 nothing from its direction to break the silence she had 
 momentarily expected to hear some fearful outcry, the 
 sound of deadly struggle. I Jut nothing had happened.
 
 302 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 She had not even seen the blind drawn up. She had 
 stepped from the balcony into Redmayne's sitting-room, 
 and had stayed there during the progress of the final scene 
 of Theodore's play, and so was not conscious of anything 
 that had taken place. Of all the interests that grouped 
 themselves about the household lights of Wellington that 
 night, those that grouped themselves around that light 
 were surely the strangest ! 
 
 At length she saw the door open, and 
 
 two forms issue from it. They were the doctor and 
 Redmayne. Then another door opened and closed beneath 
 her then the sound of voices. The reaction was intense. 
 ]STow that she had grasped the fact that her husband was 
 really safe, the one fixed idea in the eddying confusion of 
 her mind was what had he learned ? Was Catherine 
 innocent, after all, or was she not 1 She heard Redmayne's 
 footsteps approaching, and her courage, well nigh worn out 
 by the anxious watch, was not proof against the suspense. 
 A glance at his face as he entered the room brought a cry 
 of relief to her lips, and before he had taken three paces 
 across the floor rapid and eager as those paces were she 
 was by his side, his arms were clasped around her, and his 
 lips were pressed passionately upon hers. 
 
 " At last, Matthew ! " 
 
 "At last, Esther!" and she noticed, notwithstanding 
 his lover 's-raptures and her own, there was an unmistakable 
 gravity in his voice as he spoke, and in his eyes as they 
 looked down into hers. "At last I can claim you as my 
 own ; all that has kept us apart has come to an end to- 
 night, love. He has confessed everything." 
 
 " And and Catherine ? " 
 
 " Is innocent, Esther, perfectly innocent." 
 
 She clasped her hands. "Oh, thank God for that," she 
 said, earnestly, the weight of an intolerable suspense lifted 
 from her heart ; " thank God that whatever may have 
 been the intent that formed itself in her poor, distracted 
 brain, she was not permitted to carry it out."
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYXE. 3U3 
 
 " Amen, Esther, with all my heart." He paused a 
 moment. There was a question he longed, yet hesitated, 
 to put. He hovered about it like a moth about the flame 
 of a candle, and then said, " But, now that that doubt 
 is at rest, tell me, love, would it have been indeed so 
 impossible ? " 
 
 She understood him, and put her hand over his lips to 
 stop him. " Do not let us speak of that, Matthew. That 
 reason alone would have been sufficient to keep us apart 
 forjever. If she had not been innocent I should never have 
 forgotten that I was her sister, and that, as her sister, I 
 could never have been your wife never. But do not 
 think of the past. Let us be content that we have been 
 brought together again, and that we have jail the future 
 before us." 
 
 "Spoken like a wise little woman. Strange things have 
 happened in the last few hours, Esther, and the strangest 
 of them is that, so far from Catherine having done any- 
 thing in the past to estrange us, it is to her we owe our 
 happiness to-night. It seems like fate that, unconscious as 
 she is of the past, it was her silent evidence that finally 
 broke down Llewellyn's resistance, and forced the con- 
 fession from him which he had refused to me and which, 
 too, cunningly hedged in as he was behind a web of cir- 
 cumstance, he had the power of withholding from me 
 
 "Her silent evidence, Matthew 1 I do not understand." 
 
 The feeling of mental exhaustion which had been caused 
 by the interview witli Llewellyn had not yet worn off. 
 He did not answer immediately, and she noticed now, as 
 she had noticed the gravity in his voice and manner when 
 he had first entered the room, that he looked at her almost 
 absently, as he answered 
 
 " True, I forgot you could not know," and he described 
 how the sudden apparition upon the balcony had afTooU'd 
 Llewellyn. He saw her eyes sparkle, and ft-lt the pressure 
 of her hand upon his arm alternately tighten and relax 
 while he was speaking, and when he had finished, which
 
 304 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 she could scarcely restrain herself sufficiently to allow him 
 to do, she said eagerly 
 
 " Matthew, there must be fate in this," and then added, 
 with womanly inconsequence, " I see it all. It has been a 
 conspiracy of the doctor's." 
 
 "The doctor?" 
 
 " Yes. He has been our good genius from the first. It 
 was through him that she took part in the play at all. 
 Some one had failed to keep her appointment with Mr. 
 Hawkshaw, and the doctor suggested 
 
 " That Catherine should take the vacant place, I under- 
 stand." 
 
 ' ' with the idea in his mind, I know now, of carrying 
 
 out the device you have seen to-night. It was the very 
 last moment, and I said no, I was afraid she was not in a 
 fit condition of mind to undergo anything that might excite 
 her just as I told you in the letter I wrote from New 
 Plymouth, you remember. He said it was a mere question 
 of an evening's amusement, and there could be no excite- 
 ment about it ; the affair was a very quiet affair, and he 
 would guarantee no harm came of it. I agreed that he 
 should speak to her himself, and see if he could gain her 
 consent, and she gave it at once." 
 
 " He let no hint of his intention reach me." 
 
 "No; he stipulated I think I can understand why 
 that you should not be told." 
 
 She looked up in his face as she spoke, and linked her 
 arm in his, and kept pace with him as he walked up and 
 down the room. 
 
 " How hot your forehead is," she said, placing her cool 
 hand upon it. " How much you have gone through, and all 
 for the sake of poor, worthless me. I am almost terrified 
 to think of it." 
 
 " Terrified, my love, at what 1 " 
 
 " At the debt you have laid me under the debt I can 
 never repay." Then more slowly, and turning the ring 
 round and round somewhat conspicuously, "Mat, dear, do
 
 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 805 
 
 you remember what you said when we saw one another at 
 New Plymouth, about happiness and a certain person who 
 shall be nameless coming together? There was a wrinkle 
 in your forehead, and a look in your eyes a moment ago I 
 could not understand. Has happiness come 1 " 
 
 Under the circumstances there was a method of answer- 
 ing more expressive than words, and her face being turned 
 invitingly upward at the moment he adopted that method. 
 
 " Yes, my darling, happiness has come the look and 
 the wrinkle notwithstanding. Perhaps they were there 
 because, in spite of all I said that day, I am disappointed 
 at owing so little of my happiness to what I have done 
 myself." 
 
 "Then they should be on your face still," she said, "for 
 you shall depend still less upon yourself for your happiness 
 in the future." 
 
 She turned her face up more invitingly than ever to 
 smile, and the temptation was irresistible. 
 
 " But, Matthew," the smile died away from her face, and 
 she spoke with a vague feeling of inconsistency with her 
 last words, " we cannot stay in New Zealand, we must not 
 make our home in any place where events may happen at 
 any moment to revive Kate's remembrance of the past." 
 
 " I have thought of that too, Ettie. There is nothing to 
 prevent our going abroad at once, for there is nothing more 
 we can do." He opened the door leading on to the balcony 
 as he spoke, and they saw that the light was still burning 
 in Llewellyn's house. As they looked the bent shadow 
 of some one passed darkly across the window. Esther 
 shuddered, and Kedmayne drew her closer to him. 
 
 " So, please heaven, passes the last shadow on your 
 fortunes and mine, Ettie." 
 
 " And yet, how near he came to ruining both our lives," 
 she whispered. 
 
 " Yes, but he has more completely ruined his own. I 
 saw something in his face to-night as he finished his con- 
 fession that took the last thought of vengeance out of my
 
 306 MATTHEW REDMAYNE. 
 
 heart it was the shadow of approaching madness. The 
 memory of his crime -haunts him." 
 
 " It was a terrible crime, and it is a terrible punishment. 
 I shudder when I think of your meeting with him to 
 think what might have happened." 
 
 " Poor girl, yours has been the hardest trial of all, fight- 
 ing alone with suspense and your own imagination," he 
 said, falling into his old habit of stroking her hair caress- 
 ingly. " But dreams and presentiments do not always 
 come true, you see." 
 
 "When will you tell me all that passed between you 
 to-night ? " she asked, her eyes wandering with something 
 of their former fascination to the lighted window before her, 
 and the shadow that continually crossed and re-crossed it. 
 
 He closed the door, and led her back into the room 
 before he answered 
 
 ' ' Best forget it, my love, as I shall seek to do. Let it 
 go with the rest of our past. To-morrow we will take 
 Catherine with us and look our last upon New Zealand." 
 
 She rested her hand upon his shoulder and her cheek 
 upon her hand. 
 
 "Yes, Matthew, that will be best. Let us forget the 
 past with its good and its evil. To-morrow we will enter 
 upon our new life ; and as for the old one, we will put it 
 from our memory as completely as it has been removed 
 from Catherine's." Then with a woman's longing to hear 
 the declaration she can never hear too often, ' ' And you 
 will be content to make my life one with yours, content 
 that the truth you have learned to-night should only be 
 known among ourselves, content even with the prospect of 
 it never being known to the world 1 ? " 
 
 " Content, Esther, to let the whole world go ; content 
 always and everywhere, as long as I have succeeded in 
 convincing you, and having you for my reward." 
 
 THE END.
 
 
 
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