"A gentleman has had a very bad fall. I'm afraid he's killed.” "No, no, not so bad as that; he's only stunned, and his head is hurt. If we could but get a doctor!" "He'd been up all night as usual, and was screwed when he came out; and he has had a pull at his brandy-flask whenever he could during the day. I saw he'd no seat as we were galloping along in the open." "Who-who is the gentleman ?" I asked, with a horrible anticipation of the truth. "Mr. Walbrooke, of the Grange." I ran up the steps and pushed by the crowd of servants in the hall, forcing my way into Mr. Ridgway's morning-room, on the left-hand side, where they told me poor Harry lay. I found him stretched upon the sofa, surrounded by three or four gentlemen; one ripping open the high black stock men wore in those days, another dashing water in his face, women-servants hurrying to and fro with sponges and basins, Mr. Ridgway standing just so much concerned as good breeding demanded, with his back to the fire. I looked upon my old friend's face, the face that I had known in boyhood so fresh, so very fair, so full of glee and impudence. It was hardly recognisable. Bloated, swollen, great purple stains under the eyes, deep furrows from the nostrils to the corners of the mouth, I asked myself whether it was possible that this could be the man I had last seen scarcely two years ago? He remained insensible. A little stream of blood flowed from the temple, which the women stanched. upwards, I had had few opportunities of seeing the chase, but it had always possessed great attractions for me from a pictorial point of view. There is no prettier sight I think than the hounds in full cry, and a large "field" after them. On this memo- "It was nothing of a jump," said another, rable afternoon I toiled over some ploughed "and Harry, who never stops at anything! fields and up a steep bit of down, in the-how the deuce did it happen ?" hopes of getting a sight of the run, if it should haply come in this direction; and I was rewarded. When three parts up the hill, I caught the faint sound of the huntsman's horn from a distant cover, and then presently the yelping of the hounds, and the far-off "Tally-ho!" reached me, growing stronger as I breasted the rising ground. A moment more and they came in sightin front, a reddish-brown speck, scudding away for dear life across the fields, followed, after an interval of shouting, hallooing, and yelping, by other specks, white and liver-coloured, and then a great stream of riders in scarlet, pouring from the wood at every issue. I watched them down by the furzy hollow, to some water-meadows, and over a brook which skirted the park on this side; then Reynard slipped through the fence, and was away across the open sward, making straight for the house, while the "field" took advantage of a gate a few yards further on, and swept into the park in straggling defile. I ran down the hill, hoping to come in for the death in the open, for now the thick coppice hid them all from my sight; but by the time I had traversed field and coppice all vestige of them had disappeared, and the deep quiet of twilight was beginning to gather over the park. I walked rapidly towards the house, which was still a mile distant; there was not a sound; nothing to indicate that a great company had just passed that way, and must still be near at hand. As I skirted the lake, and the Italian portico and flight of steps came in sight, I saw, to my surprise, a crowd of men on foot, and several hunters, held by grooms, around the entrance. What could this mean? Had the fox been killed on the very door-steps? I hurried on; and when I broke into the public footpath, a few yards from Assunta's window, there she stood, with dilated eyes, one hand twisted in the string of the window-blind, the other clutching the sill. She did not see me; she saw nothing but the knot of men in scarlet under the portico. A man passed me on horseback at full gallop. "The doctor lives four miles off," I heard a man say as I came up. "What has happened?" I asked. "How soon can the doctor be here ?" I asked. "It all depends on whether he is at home when the message reaches his house," replied Mr. Ridgway. "Jane, there is a spot of blood on the carpet. You had better have Mr. Walbrooke carried to a bedroom. It is impossible that he can be removed from the house to-night. Mr. Mandeville, will you not have a glass of sherry before your long ride home?" The gentleman thus appealed to, and violently roused to a consciousness that he was not expected to remain much longer in attendance upon his friend, boldly said that, with Mr. Ridgway's permission, he would stay till the doctor's arrival. The others, who, I take it, were but slightly acquainted with their host, meeting with no encouragement to do likewise, left the room one after another. "You will find refreshment in the dining-room," ," said Mr. Ridgway, with infinite urbanity. "Thomas, show these gentlemen the way, and admit no one else but the doctor, when he comes." We carried poor Harry between us to an upper chamber, and laid him on the bed. About half an hour after the doctor arrived. He pronounced that there was a slight concussion of the brain, from the effects of which the sufferer was even now slowly reviving. The collar-bone and two of the ribs were broken. What the internal injuries might be it was impossible, at present, to ascertain. "Cut off his clothes as soon as you can, and get him into bed before he becomes conscious of pain," said the doctor. And Mr. Mandeville and I performed this operation, aided by one of the servants. It was lucky we did so. Scarcely was the poor fellow free from his saturated, mud-stained garments, when his whole body became convulsed by the most violent twitchings, followed by groans, rising gradually into shrieks. The eyes glared wide, utterly unconscious of all around; a cold sweat started out upon his forehead, and then suddenly a tremor seized him from head to foot. For some time he seemed incapable of articulation; his lips moved, and he uttered wild yells, like those of some tortured animal, but he said nothing, until at last, leaping up in the bed, he shouted: "Take them away! For God's sake, man, take them! They're crawling all up me. There! there! my arm. They've got hold of my arm-ugh! They're getting inside me! They're choking me! Kill them, for God's sake! Can't you see them? black, slimy things-ugh! They're fastening on me; they're sucking my blood out. Help! Will no one take them off? There, man, there! They are plain enough. Damnation !" And the shriek that followed must have resounded to the furthest corner of the house. It is enough to give a sample of his ravings. Over the painful scene that followed I draw a veil. It took four of us to hold him down, and his injuries, poor fellow, made it doubly difficult and cruel work. The doctor poured a little brandy down his throat from time to time, then as the violence of the attack subsided he sank back, cowering among the pillows, and sobbing like a child. I was thankful that he knew no one, that he had no recollection of what had befallen him, or knowledge of where he was. Mr. Mandeville had now departed; the doctor and I and a servant were left with Harry; Mr. Ridgway, much to my annoyance, kept looking in from time to time, studying the scene in a philosophic spirit from the doorway, and then sauntering out. I took advantage of the momentary lull in the frenzied man's condition to go into the passage and beg Mr. Ridgway to keep away from the room. "Send up another man, if you will; the coachman is strong, and if another violent attack comes on we shall want him, but keep away yourself. You can do no good, and if he were suddenly to remember you, I can't say what the consequences might be. We must keep him in ignorance of where he is, when he recovers his consciousness, as long as possible, Mr. Ridgway." "By all means," said my host, with a smile. "Were I vindictive I could wish the poor wretch no worse punishment for his brutal insolence to me— -(do you remember that night, just five years ago?)-than to be reduced to such a state as this. It might cure Mrs. Ridgway of some of her sentimentality to see him now, with that blotched and bloated face." "For Heaven's sake," said I," see that Mrs. Ridgway remains in her own wing of the house, out of hearing of the poor fellow's ravings, if possible.' Mr. Ridgway looked at his watch. "It is very near the dressing-bell. Shall we put off dinner for half an hour ?" "I can't leave him. You must excuse me. I could eat nothing if I came down." Mr. Ridgway shrugged his shoulders with a little pitying smile for my weakness, and turned upon his heel. The hour wore on. The sufferer's restlessness increased again. It was impossible to set the broken bones in his present condition. From the unshuttered window the last gleam of twilight died out, and night closed over the tops of the elm-trees in the park. Some one brought in a candle, and set it on a distant table. There was a strong light from the fire, which fell on the pillow, on poor Harry's wild eyes and fevered cheek, as he tossed from side to side, muttering and moaning. By this time they must be at dinner in the room immediately below. I thought of poor Assunta, sitting opposite her lord, and I wondered whether, by any evil chance, she had learnt who was the sufferer up-stairs. The doctor asked if it was possible to get some ice. I opened the door, which was directly opposite the bed, softly, to waylay a servant in the hall without ringing the bell. As I did so I thought I heard a rustle in the passage, but all was instantly still again, and I could see nothing. I called to the butler over the stair: "We want some ice. Are Mr. and Mrs. Ridgway at dinner? "Only Mr. Ridgway, sir. Mrs. Ridgway is not quite well, and is keeping her room. I'll send to the ice-house at once, sir." on his head. The doctor believed he could now set the broken bones. A womanservant entered with some bandages; I whispered to her, "Go to Mrs. Ridgway and say that the gentleman is much better." The clock struck nine. I fancied I heard a commotion in the house, a hurrying of feet to and fro, the shutting of doors, the calling of many voices, and then, after a little interval, Mr. Ridgway opened the bedroom door, and beckoned me to come out. He was quite calm, but deadly white. "Do you know where Mrs. Ridgway is ?" he asked. "Good God, no! What has happened?" "She is not to be found. She is nowhere in the house." It was a relief to find that Assunta was not so near at hand. Her own room was far away from the main body of the house. I shut the door, as I believed, and returned to the sufferer's bedside. He cried aloud that the faces of devils were gibbering at him from the corners of the room, that they were waiting to spring upon him, and then, before we could stop him, with a sound which was something between a howl and a scream, he bounded from the bed, and made one rush towards the door. It was open, and there stood Assunta, with clasped hands, clinging to the lintel, her white lips parted, her eyes wild with horror, trembling from head to foot. The others had seized I ran down the staircase, and shouting and dragged back Harry to the bed. I to some of the men who were gaping there ran to the door, and tried to lead Mrs.to bring lanterns, I seized a lamp in the Ridgway away, but she clung to the wood- hall, and dashed out into the black night, work. making my way straight for the lake. This is no place for you, you must come away," I said, and I forcibly shut the door from the outside. "Let me implore you to go back to your room, and remain quiet. I will come, by-and-bye, and let you know how he is." "Remain quiet, ay, remain quiet," she repeated, as if mechanically. Then, her voice rising into a wail, the like of which I have never heard, "Oh, my God! my God forgive me," she moaned. "It is I who have brought him to this." And with a cry as that of some wounded bird, she turned and fled down the passage, feeling blindly at the wall for support. My heart yearned to go after her, but what could I do? I watched her white garments fluttering along the dim corridor, until it made a sudden bend, and I lost sight of her. Poor soul! Poor soul! This second attack of delirium tremens was even more violent than the first, and of longer duration. For nearly an hour it taxed all our strength to keep the poor fellow under subjection, listening, in the mean time, to his cries of abject terror, alternating with the most frightful imprecations. I would that any man with a tendency to drink had passed that hour with us. That awful lesson would have cured him if anything could do so. The reaction came at last, and he lay there, exhausted, with closed eyes, the ice For one instant I felt stunned, then a horrible presentiment curdled the blood in my veins, and I grasped his arm with a hand of iron. "The water, man, the water. Not a moment to be lost." One dreadful hour of suspense, the death agonies of hope, followed. That scene is before me now with terrible distinctness, the lights gleaming round the swampy edges of the water, the affrighted wild fowl fluttering in all directions, the shouts of men with torches throughout the park, the gathering crowd of villagers, and thenand then-at last something white is seen among the sedges, a man reaches it with a boat-hook, a great cry goes up from twenty voices at once-it is a body-they turn it over-and the moon shines down upon the upturned face of Assunta. Life had been long extinct. When she left me and ran down the corridor, the poor soul, crazed with horror, must have opened a side door, and fled straight to the water. The men, returning from the ice-house, had seen something white flit past. She had cast herself in, face foremost, and had drifted to a place where the reeds and rushes caught the body, and held it wedged in among them. I knelt beside her on the sward; I supported that dear head, and tried vainly to chafe back the departed life, and I have an indistinct vision of Mr. Ridgway, muffled in furs, standing before me. In the long night of misery that followed I had but one comfort, one consoling thought-God had mercifully bereft her of reason to take her to Himself. It was as much His will, as much His doing, as though she had been stricken by a lingering illness. Think of what her life, already unutterably wretched, would have been, after witnessing Harry's condition, the tortures of self-reproach that poor solitary soul would have suffered! I remembered the last word of her letter to him, "I shall die in your shame." It was true; the over-laden brain had given way, and so, in pity, the All-Wise suffered her to lay her burden down. and, while he was lifted into his carriage, some workmen were hoisting a hatchment over the great portico. He shut his eyes, and turned deadly white: a minute or two later, the travelling-carriage passed in the park some of the mourning - coaches on their return. The sick man looked out as the first coach went slowly by; a face was at the window, it was Mr. Ridgway's. Harry never recovered that shock. He insisted upon learning every particular of the frightful catastrophe that had happened, and, in their ignorance of the effect which a knowledge of the truth must have upon him, to appease him, as they believed, they told him all. He divined, no doubt, but too clearly what causes had brought this tragedy to pass, and the blow, falling as mined, hastened the end, which, I believe, could not have been long delayed. Peace be with thee, poor erring Harry! With all thy faults, I loved thee dearly, and I often think that, tried as thou wert, most of us might have fallen like thee. I have but little more to add. I must have spoken some bitter words to Mr. Ridgway, I suppose, in the course of that night, but what they were I have forgotten. The following morning I received a cheque for my professional services, with a few lines regretting that, in consequence it did upon a constitution already underof what had occurred, Mr. Ridgway was unable" to take leave of me personally." After this dismissal, it was impossible to remain longer at Hapsbury. It distressed me to leave Harry in his precarious state; but the doctor gave good hopes of his being able to be moved to the Grange in the course of a few days; he was conscious and perfectly calm now, and if there was no return of fever, he would do well. I impressed on the doctor the necessity of keeping his patient in ignorance of where he was, and of all that had happened, and I wrote by that post to Mrs. Walbrooke and to Lena, at Paris, urging their immediate return to the Grange to meet Harry, and offering to join them there, if they should require my services in nursing him. Mr. Ridgway survived his wife twenty years. We never met again. I read his name occasionally in the papers, as present at one of the dilettante societies' meetings, or as having purchased some famous work of art for an enormous sum. And that is all I ever heard of him. He is long since gone to his last account, whither I, too, shall soon be called. What am I, that I should pronounce sentence on him, standing as he now does in the presence of that Judge before whom the secrets of all hearts are laid bare? He was a mystery to me from the beginning: he remained so unto the end; but it was a mystery, alas! that brought ruin and desolation into the lives of those I loved best on earth. END OF GEOFFREY LUTTRELL'S NARRATIVE. Next week, A NEW SERIAL STORY will be commenced in But that summons never came. My injunctions to the doctor, though adhered to in the letter, were unfortunately, as I afterwards learned, violated in spirit. Mr. Ridgway behaved admirably, obtruding himself neither personally nor by any message upon the unfortunate rival thus forced to be his guest, while he gave directions that the sick man should want for nothing. But, by some strange oversight, or the cruel will of fate, Harry's departure from Hapsbury took place on the morning of Assunta's funeral, though an WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL. hour after the long pompous train had left the house. As he was being carried down the great stairs, the poor fellow looked around him, and recognised with a shudder of dismay the famous hall of Hapsbury, with its Roman emperors, and marble columns, unlike anything else in the county. faced' servants in deep mourning stood there, SLAVES OF THE LAMP. Sad To be continued from week to week until completed, entitled THE BY THE AUTHOR OF "HESTER'S HISTORY." JUST PUBLISHED, THE EXTRA DOUBLE NUMBER FOR ENTITLED The Right of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR ROUND is reserved by the Authors. Published at the ice. 26, Wellington St Strand. Printed by C. WRITING, Beaufort House, Duke St.. Lincoln's Inn Fields. |