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"For just a minute I couldn't say a word, but when I did, and asked her what was the matter, she only knelt there, clinging to my gownd, and staring up at me with a face that was horrible to behold.
"'What is it--what is it?' I kept on saying, but she couldn't speak, only kneel there, staring at me till I took her by the shoulders and shook her well. 'Why don't you speak?' I says. 'What is it?'
"She only said 'Oh'--a regular groan it was, and she turned her head slowly round to look back at the little lib'ry pa.s.sage, and then she turned back and hid her face in my petticoats.
"'Tell me what it is, Becky,' I says, more gently, for it didn't seem that any harm was coming to us, but she couldn't speak, only point behind her toward the little lib'ry door, and this made me s.h.i.+ver, for I knew there must be something dreadful there. At last, though, for fear she should think I was a coward, I tried to get away from her, but she clung to me that tight that I couldn't get my gownd clear for ever so long. But at last I did, and I went into the little lobby through the door; but there was nothing there, and the lib'ry door was shut close; and I was coming back when I felt Becky seize me by the arm and point again, and then I saw what I hadn't seen before; there were footmarks on the carpet fresh made, and I saw that Becky must have made 'em when she had gone to the lib'ry door; and there was the reason for it, just seen by the light which came from the little skylight--there it was, stealing slowly under the bottom of the mat."
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
Kate Wilton looked at the woman in horror.
"Yes, ma'am," Sarah continued, "there it was, and when I opened the door I could only get it a little way, for something was just inside, and as I stood there trembling, there came out a nasty wet smell of gunpowder, just as if water had been upset on the hob.
"I didn't want any telling, ma'am; I knew, and poor Becky knew, that master had shot himself with something and was lying there.
"I waited for just about a minute, ma'am, for my senses seemed to be quite gone, and I was as bad as poor Becky; but I got to be a little sensible soon, and began to feel that I must do something. I called to Becky to come and help me, but it was no use; she was just as if she was stunned, and could only stare at me, s.h.i.+vering all the while. So I felt that I must do what there was to do myself, and I went back to the door, and pushed and pushed till I could just squeeze myself through the narrow slit I made; and then I dursen't look round, but stood with my back to it for ever so long before I could feel that he might be alive, and that I ought to go for the doctor.
"I looked round then, feeling as I turned that I should be obliged to shriek out, but I didn't. Poor master, he was lying on his side, with his hand under his head, just quiet and calm, as if he had only gone to sleep. It made me wonder what I had been frightened at, and I went down on one knee and took the hand which was by his side, touching a pistol."
"Yes?" said Kate, breathlessly, for the woman paused.
"Yes, ma'am, it was quite cold. He must have shot himself early in the night, and I knew it was no good to go to fetch a doctor then.
Leastwise I think that's what I felt, for I didn't _go_, but crept out very softly and shut the door; and then I took hold of poor Becky's arm and led her down to the kitchen, where she went off into a dead faint, and came to, and fainted over again--fit after fit, so that I was busy for hours and didn't know how time went, till all at once there was a double knock at the door, which I knew was Mr Garstang come.
"I went up and let him in, and he looked at me so strange.
"'What is it?' he said; 'your master?'
"'Yes, sir,' I says, 'and I was to show you in as soon as you came.'
"He nodded, and went up at once, neither of us saying another word.
Then he went in through the door gently, and came out again, looking horribly shocked.
"'When did you find him?' he says; and I told him. 'Poor fellow!' he says, 'I am not surprised. Sarah Plant, you must go and tell the police;' and I did, and there was an inquest, and at last the poor old master was to be buried, with only Mr Garstang to follow him, for he had no relations or friends.
"I sat in my bit of noo black, and Becky just opposite me, waiting while they'd gone to the cemetery, for no one asked me to go, and I sat there looking at Becky, who began crying as she heard them carrying the coffin downstairs and never stopped all that time. And I thought to myself, 'We two will have to go out into the world, and n.o.body won't take us with poor Becky like that;' and my heart was so full, miss--ma'am, that I began to cry, too; but I'm afraid it was for myself, not for poor master. Last of all, the carriage came back, and I let Mr Garstang in, looking terribly cut up.
"'Bring me a little tea, Sarah,' he says, and I went and got it, and had a cup, too, wanting it as I did badly, and by-and-by he rung for me to fetch the tray.
"I got to the door with it, when he calls me back.
"'Sarah,' he says, 'your poor master has no relations left, and by the papers I hold, everything comes to me.'
"'Yes, sir; so I s'posed,' I says to him, 'and you want me and Becky to go at once.'
"He looked at me with that nice soft smile of his, and he says, 'Why should you think that? No,' he says, 'I want everything to stay just as it is; I won't have a thing moved, and I should be very glad if you and Becky would stay and keep the house for me.'
"I couldn't answer him, ma'am, for I was crying bitterly; but I knew him, what a good man he was, and that me and Becky had found a friend.
Seven years ago, ma'am, and never an unkind word from him when he came, which wasn't often. He only told me not to gossip about the place, and I said I wouldn't, and never did till I talked to you, ma'am, and as for poor Becky, she never speaks to no one. Perhaps, ma'am, you'd like to come upstairs, and see the marks."
"See the marks?" stammered Kate.
"Yes, ma'am, where old master lay. You've never been in the little lib'ry, but if you like I'll show you now. There's only a little rug to move, and there it is, quite plain."
"No, no, I do not wish to see," said Kate, shuddering. "So there has been a terrible tragedy here?"
"Yes, ma'am, and that's what makes the place so dull and still. I often fancy I can see poor old master gliding about the staircase and pa.s.sages; but it's all fancy, of course."
"All fancy, of course," said Kate, softly. "But it is very terrible for such a thing to have happened here."
"Yes, ma'am, that's what I often think; and there's been times when I'm low-spirited; and you know there are times when one does get like that Becky's enough to make anyone dumpy, at the best of times, 'specially towards night, when she's sitting there with her face tied up and her eyes staring and looking toward the door, as if she fancied she was going to see master come in; for she will believe in ghosts, and it's no use to try to stop her. Ah, she's a great trial, ma'am."
"Poor girl!" said Kate.
"Thankye, ma'am. It's very good of you to say so," sighed the woman; "and it is nice to have a lady here to talk to. It's quite altered the place. There have been times, and many of them, when I felt that I must take poor Becky away and get another situation, but it would be ungrateful to new master, who's a dear good man, and never an unkind word since with him I've been. It isn't everyone who'd keep a servant with a girl like Becky about the house. But he never seems to mind, being a busy man, and I s'pose he must see that the only way in which Becky's happy is in cleaning and polis.h.i.+ng things. I believe if she woke up in the middle of the night and remembered that she hadn't dusted something she'd want to get up and do it; and she would, too, if she dared. But go about the house in the middle of the night without me, ma'am? No; wild horses wouldn't drag her."
Sarah Plant ceased speaking, for she suddenly woke to the fact that Kate was gazing at the fire, with her thoughts evidently far away; and the woman stole softly from the room. But as the door clicked faintly Kate started and looked about her, half disposed to call her back, for the narrative she had heard made her position seem terribly lonely.
She restrained herself, though, and sat trying to think and turn the current of her thoughts, telling herself that she had no cause for anxiety save on Eliza's account. For Garstang could not have been more fatherly and considerate to her. His words, too, were wise and right.
To let her uncle know where she was must result in scenes that would be stormy and violent; and she determined at last to let herself be guided entirely by her self-const.i.tuted guardian.
"Yes, he is right. He is all that is kind and fatherly in his way, and I, too, should be ungrateful if I murmured against my position. It will not be for long. In less than two years I shall be of age, and fully my own mistress."
She paused to think, for a doubt arose.
Would she be her own mistress? She had heard her father's will read, but it was at a time when she was distracted with grief, and save that she grasped that she was heiress to a large fortune, which was to remain invested in her father's old bank, she knew comparatively nothing as to the control her uncle possessed. Yes; she recalled that he was sole executor and guardian until she married.
"And I shall never marry," she sighed; but as the words were breathed, scenes at the old Manor came back; the pleasant little intimacy with Jenny Leigh, her praise of her brother, and that brother's manly, kindly attentions to his patient, his skill having achieved so much in bringing her back to health.
Yes, he had always been the attentive, courteous physician, and neither word nor look had intimated that he was anything else; but these things are a mystery beyond human control, and as Kate Wilton sat and thought, it was with Pierce Leigh present with her in spirit, and she felt startled; for the tell-tale blood was mantling her cheeks, and she hurriedly rose to do something to change the current of her thoughts.
"Poor Mr Garstang," she said, softly; "he shall not find me ungrateful.
He, too, has suffered. If he had had a daughter like this!"
She recalled his words, evidently not intended for her ears. Wifeless-- childless--wealthy, and yet solitary.
Her heart warmed towards him, and she was ready to call herself selfish for intruding her wishes upon one whose sole thought seemed to be to protect her and make her life peaceful.
"He shall not find me selfish," she said to herself, "and I will be guided by him and do what he thinks right."
She went out into the solemn-looking hall and began to ascend the great staircase, taking a fresh interest in the place, which seemed now as if it would be her home perhaps for months. The pictures and statues interested her, and she paused before a cabinet of curious old china, partly to try and admire, partly to think of how ignorant she was of all these matters, and a few minutes after, found herself close to the heavy curtain, beyond which was the door leading into the little library.
A strange thrill ran through her, and she turned to hurry into her own room, with her cheeks growing pale. But the blood flowed back, and with a feeling of self-contempt she walked straight to the curtain, drew it aside, pa.s.sed through an archway, and turned the handle of a door. This opened upon a pa.s.sage, whose walls were covered with venerable looking books, a dim skylight above showing the faded leather and worn gilding upon their backs. There was another door at the end, and as the woman's narrative forced itself back to her attention there was a fresh thrill which chilled her; but she went on firmly, opened the door, and pa.s.sed through to find herself in the first of two rooms connected by a broad opening dimly lit by a stained-gla.s.s window, and completely covered with books, all old and evidently treasures of a collector.
Once more she shuddered, for she was standing upon one of several small Persian rugs dotted about the dark polished floor, and from the woman's description she knew that she must be where the former owner of the house had lain dead.