The Lost Lady of Lone Part 31

"If I maun gae, I will gae; but I willna hae your filthy hand on me, ye beastly de'il!" she added, as she reached the cab. She paused an instant, with her foot upon the step, and looked up and down the street, as if she contemplated for a moment a flight for liberty and life; but probably she did not like the prospect of the hue and cry, the pursuit and recapture sure to ensue, for the next instant she stepped into the cab.

That night Rose Cameron pa.s.sed in the Police Station-House of the Westminster precinct. She had slept in much less comfortable, if more respectable quarters, when she lived in the Highland hut at the foot of Ben Lone.

The officers who had her in charge overlooked all her viciousness in consideration of her youth and beauty, and afforded her every indulgence which their own duty and her safe-keeping permitted. They gave her a cell and a clean cot to herself; and one of them, to whom she gave a sovereign, went out at her orders and bought for her a luxurious and abundant supper.

And Rose--a perfect animal, as I beg leave to remind you--ate heartily and slept soundly, notwithstanding her perils and terrors.

The next morning Rose Cameron was taken before the sitting magistrate of the Police Court at Vincent Square.

The two witnesses from Lone, McNeil, the saddler, who had seen her lurking under the window of the castle at midnight on the night of the murder; and Ferguson, the railway clerk, who had sold her the ticket for the twelve-fifteen express to London, had been summoned by telegraph on the day before, had come up by the night train, and were now in court ready to identify the prisoner. Sir Lemuel Levison's house-steward, also summoned by telegraph, was there to identify the stolen jewels which were produced in court. The examination was brief and conclusive. McNeil and Ferguson swore to the woman as being Rose Cameron, and also as being the very woman they had each seen on the night of the murder, under the suspicious circ.u.mstances already mentioned.

And McRath swore to the watch and chain, the jewelled snuff-box, and the solitaire diamond ring as the property of his deceased master, worn upon his person on the same night of the murder.

The three policemen swore to finding the stolen property in the possession of the prisoner.

Rose Cameron was incapable of inventing a plausible defence.

When asked how this property came into her possession, she said she had picked up the watch and chain found upon her person, on the sidewalk, on Westminster Road, where she supposed the owner must have dropped it, and as she did not know who the owner might be, she had kept it, to her sorrow. But as for the gold snuff-box and the solitaire diamond ring, she did not know anything about them; she had never seen them in her life, until they were drawn out of the hollow cornice by Inspector Pryor, and where they must have been hidden by somebody else.

This explanation was not received. And before the morning was over, Rose Cameron was remanded to her cell in the police station-house to wait until she could be taken back to Scotland for trial.

When she reached her cell, she gave herself up to a pa.s.sion of hysterical weeping and sobbing.

She was interrupted by a visit from her friendly housekeeper.

"My poor, dear, injured lady, I was here early this morning to see you, but could not get in," said the woman, after the first exciting greetings were over.

"Sit ye down. Dinna staund, and tire yersel'," said the poor creature, glad to see any familiar face.

"Oh, my good young lady, you were always very kind to me. And I never can believe as you've had anything to do with what you are accused of," said the good woman, weeping.

"And sae I hadna. I dinna ken onything anent it. As for yon braw boxie, I ne'er set een on it, na, nor the fine ring, till the policeman pu'ed it doon frae the tap o' the window curtain. And the fine watch, they fund on me, and said belongit to Sir Lemuel Levison; that watch waur gied to me by a gude freend," said Rose, wiping the great tears from her stormy eyes.

"I will believe it, my good young lady. I can very well believe it. I see how you have been imposed upon by bad people; but do you keep a stiff upper lip, madam, and don't be in no ways cast down, and your innercence will come like pure gold from the furniss, as the saying is. And now, my dear young lady, I have some news for you, as will help to divert your mind from your troubles, I hope," said the well-meaning woman, soothingly.

"Is it about Johnnie Scott? Is it about my gude mon?" eagerly inquired Rose.

"No, my dear young lady, it is not about him. You remember the marriage that was broken off, for the time between the young Marquis of Arondelle and the heiress of Lone?"

"Yes! broken off by the murder of the bride's feyther, the nicht before the wedding day--the murder o' Sir Lemuel Levison, wi' whilk I now staund accusit. Ou, aye, I mind it! I am na likely to forget it!" sharply answered Rose Cameron.

"Well, my dear young lady, the marriage is on again."

"_Eh!_" exclaimed Rose Cameron, springing up.

"Yes, my dear young lady. You know I always take time to look over the morning papers that are left at the house for you, and this morning I read that a grand marriage would take place at St. George's, Hanover Square, between the young Duke of Hereward--he who was Marquis of Arondelle before his father's death--and the heiress of the late Sir Lemuel Levison. And how, after the ceremony, there would be a breakfast at the bride's house, and then how the happy pair would set out for their wedding tower."

While the well-meaning housekeeper was speaking, Rose Cameron was staring at her in dumb amazement.

"I brought the paper in my pocket, ma'am, thinking, under all the circ.u.mstances, it would interest you and help to make you forget your own troubles. Would you like to read it for yourself?"

"Yes! gie me the paper," cried Rose, s.n.a.t.c.hing it from the housekeeper before the latter could hand it.

"Where's the place? Where's the place?" cried the impatient young woman, wildly turning the pages.

"Here it is ma'am. At the top of the 'FAs.h.i.+ONABLE NEWS,'" said the landlady, pointing out the item.

Rose pounced upon it, and read aloud:

"The marriage of His Grace, the Duke of Hereward, with Miss Levison, only daughter and heiress of the late Sir Lemuel Levison, will be celebrated at twelve, noon, to-day, at St. George's, Hanover Square. After the ceremony the n.o.ble party will adjourn to Elmhurst House, Westbourne Terrace, the home of the bride, to partake of the wedding breakfast, after which the happy pair will leave town by the tidal train for Dover, _en route_ for their continental tour."

Rose Cameron threw down the paper and sprang to her feet with the bound of a tigress.

"Oh, the villain! Oh, the shamfu', fause, leeing villain! This wad be the important business that kept him awa' frae me! This wad be the reason why he got me lockit up in prison here--for I ken weel that he pit the dogs o' the law on my track noo, if I dinna ken before--to keep me fra getting out to ban his marriage noo, as I wad ha banned it then hadna something else dune it for me. But it isna too late yet! I'll ban his wedding travels, gin I couldna ban his wedding! I'll bring him down to disgrace and shame afore a' his graund wedding guests--the fause-hearted, leeing, shamefu' villain! I will pu' him down frae his grandeur yet, gin ye will only help me!" exclaimed Rose Cameron, pouring out this torrent of words, as she strode up and down the narrow floor of her cell with the stride of an enraged lioness.

"My dear, good young lady, I don't know, the least in the world, why you should get so excited over the young duke's marriage," said the housekeeper, gazing in amazement and terror upon the face of the infuriated young creature.

"Why suld I get excited o'er it, indeed?" exclaimed Rose, stopping suddenly in her furious stride, and confronting her unoffending visitor with a scowl of rage.

"Come now; come now;" murmured the woman, soothingly, for she began to fear that she was in the presence, and in the power, of a lunatic.

"Dinna yo ken then, ye auld fule, that the Dooke o' Hareward is my ain gude mon?" imperiously demanded Rose.

"Oh, her poor head! Her poor head is going, and no wonder, poor la.s.s!"

murmured the old woman, compa.s.sionately.

"But how suld ye ken?" cried Rose, scornfully throwing herself down into her seat again. "He ca'ed himsel' Mr. John Scott. Mr. John Scott! And mysel' Mrs. John Scott. And sae ye kenned us, and nae itherwise."

"Poor girl! Poor girl!" murmured the housekeeper. "She's far gone! Far gone! Poor girl!"

"Puir girl, is it? It will be puir dooke before a' is ended! I'll hae him hanggit for trigomy, or what e'er ye ca' the marryin' o' twa wives at ance. Twa wives! Ou! I'll nae staund it! I'll nae staund it!" cried Rose, suddenly bounding to her feet.

"Come now! Come now! my dear, good young lady," said the housekeeper, coaxingly.

"Ye'll nae believe it! Ye'll nae believe he's my ain gude mon wha has marrit the heiress the morn? Look here, then! And look here! And look here!" continued the girl, impetuously, as she took a small morocco letter-case from her bosom and opened it, and took out one after another--a parchment, a letter, and a photograph.

"Yes, dear, I'll look at anything you like," said the housekeeper, with a sigh, for she thought she was only humoring a lunatic.

"Here's my marritge lines. And I was marrit here, in Lunnun town, at a kirk ye ca' St. Margaret's, by a minister ca'ed Smith. It's a'

doon here in the lines. Look for yoursel'. Ye can read. See! Here will be my name, Rose Cameron. And here will be my gudeman's--de'il ha'e him!--Archibald-Alexander-John Scott, Marquis of Arondelle. And here will be the minister's name at the fut--James Smith; and the witnesses--John Jones, clerk, and Ann Gray, (she waur an auld body in a black bonnet and shawl). Noo! is that a' richt and lawfu'?" demanded Rose, triumphantly.

"Indeed, ma'am, it looks so!" said the perplexed housekeeper. And these indiscreet words burst from her lips, almost without her own volition--"But the idea of the young Marquis of Arondelle marrying of you in downright earnest is beyond belief! It is, indeed!"

"And what for nae?" cried Rose, angrily. "What for nae, wad he nae marry me, if he lo'ed me? He wad na hae me without marritge ye suld ken."

"No offence, my dear young madam. None at all. I was only astonished, that's all," said the housekeeper, deprecatingly, though she wondered and doubted whether all she heard and saw was truth.

"And, here! See here! Here is a letter I got frae him sune after the wedding. Ye ken the Dooke o' Harewood was Markiss o' Arondelle time when he married me?"