HENRY DUNBAR.

Bruce Herald, Volume III, Issue 61, 8 June 1865, Page 6

HENRY DUNBAR.

By the 5 Author of Floyd,' 'Ti&dy . .;. Audiey's Secret,' &c.~, &o. (Cdntimiedjrom our last)

CHAPTER XII( ■ ;;-"'■ Arrested. ... / The Anglo-Indian did %ot flinch. He was looking* at 'the verg'ier now with a quiet steady gazeVwhich : . seemed that of a man who had nothing; to fear, and who was serene- and undisturbed by. reason of- his innocence. : - " : ; .;. .'* We don't want to knb W. .what you think/ the coroner said. '.You must tell us only .what you are perfectly certain of.'- " ■ ; :v : ■ -■■ ■ ■■■■•■•" 'Then Pam not" certain, sir,' the' verger replied. /You* are not certain Mr Dunbar was absenran hour ?' *\Npt' quite certain,- sir.' 'But yPu are very nearly certain.^ Is that so,?' : ; /Yes^ sir; I" am very nearly certain.; You 1 see," sir, when' the two gentlemen went through the yard the cathedral clock was chiming the quarter after four ; t remember that. And "when Mr' Dunbar came back I was just going away toniy tea, and I seldom go -tea untiL it ; is gone five.' . ;■;" : ' : 'But' supposing 1 it to : have struck five •when Mr Dunbar returned, that ; , would only make if three-quarters of an hour after 'pie time at which he went through, supposing him to have gone through the yard, as you have said, at a quarter past four.' -. The old . verger scratched his head again.- J' .";".'."' 'I had been loitering about all yesterday afternoon, sir,' he answered, 'and I was a bit late thinking, of going to my tea.' t ' And you believe, therefore,' said the coroner, 'that Mr Dunbar was absent an hbur£ \ " ; ' YeSj'sir ; an hour^— or more.'™ 'An hour, or more ?' 'Yes, sir.' ' ' ". 'He was absent more than hour ; do you mean to say that V ■ 'It might have been ? in ore, sir. ' I didn't -keep no particular count of the time." """"•"■■;•-£"■. Arthur Lo.vell had taken out his pocket book, and was . making notes of the verger' s evidence, , . . _ The old man went on, .to, describe his having shown; Mr-Dunbar.:.all over the cathedrali ■ • He 'made no. mention of :. that, sudden faintness w ; hich : -had . - seized upon the Anglo-rlndian at the door ; of one of the chapels ;. but he, described the. rich man's manner as being affable in the extreme. He told how Henry. Dunbar had loitered at the door of the cathedral, and afterwards lingered in the quadrangle, waiting for his servant. He told all this with many encomiums on the rich -man's pleasant manner.. : The "next; and perhaps the most important, witnesses werethe two- laborers^ ■Philip Murtock • and Pafcridk Hennessy, who -had^ found the body of the murdered wan. Patrick Hennessy was sent Out of the rooiri while Murtock gave ' his evidence ; but their evidence tallied in every particular. :i '~ : : ' They were Irishmen, reapers, and werereturning from;_ a"! harvest supper at a farm five, miles from StlCross upon the previous evening 1 ./: V Q n^ "of.; them had knelt down u]X>n the e.dge of the "stream to get a drink oi' water, in the crowa of "his felt hat, and had been; horrified by seeing- the face of the dead^naani 1 looking; up at him in the mopnliglit^.. through the snallp w : 'water that barely/; covered" it.. . The two ; men ■ had dragged the^ body out of the streamlet, and Philip', C Murtock had ,watcned. beside it while Patrick Hennessy had gone, to seek assista^nce.'. ■.."'■. . '■' ■ The^ead'man's clothes^^ Had been stripped from,him, .with-the. exception of his trousers arid.bQots,,and:the upper part of his body wa?-barev._ -a revolting brutaUiy^inihis facu : Ie seeded that the. murderer, had -strippjedhia:; victim fpr= the sake of th'tt clo'tJbesowhichJ. he ,^ad ;wiornv - Tlhere couldi beT little d6ubtj ; therefore, "that" the ; murder. had: actaally' beeni committed' for

the greed of gain, and irot-from any motive ofrevengeT . '".- Arthur Lovell' now. breathed more, „^ : '£& „ • . Until this moment liis mind had -been . racked with agonising doubts. .Dark suspicions had been woirfciti^ in. his breast. He had been tortured^fegphifidea that the ' Anglo-Indian had m^lered his old servant, for the purpose of removing out of his way the chief witness of the crime of his youth. • But if this had been so, tlie murderer would never have lingered upon the scene of: his crime to strip the clothes from his victim's body. - No !: the deed had doubtless been done by some savage wretch, some lost and igv •^nprant creature, hardened by a long life of crime, preying like a wild beast upon his fell6w-men. : t Such murders are done in the world. Blood has been shed for • the sake of some prize so small, so paltry, that it has been difficult for men to believe that one human being could destroy another for such an object. ' ■ Heaven have pity ;• oh the wretch so lost as to be separated from his fellow creatures by reason of the vileness of his nature ! Heaven strengthen the hands of those who seek .'to spread Christian en-lig-htenment and education through the land!-: For it is only those blessings that will thin the crowded prison-wards^ and rob .the; gallows ,pf its victims. The robbery of the dead man's clothes, and such property as he might have had about him at the time of his death, gave a new aspect to the murder in/the eyes of Arthur Lovell. The case, was clear and plain now, and the young man's _duty was no longer loathsome to him ; for he no longer suspected Henry Dunbar. The constabulary had already been busy j the spot upon which the murder had been committed, and the neighborhood of that spot, had been seai'ched. But no vestige, of the.' dead man's garments had been found. i\ The medical man's evidence was very brief. He stated that on arriving at the Forester's Arms he found the deceased -quite dead, and that he appeared -to have been dead some hours ; that from the bruises and marks on the throat and neck, some contusions on the back of the head, and other appearances on the body, which witness described, he said there were indications of a struggle having taken place between deceased and some other person or persons ; that the man had^ been thrown^ or had fallen ddwn violently ; and that death had been caused by strangling and suffocation. The coroner questioned the surgeon very closely as to how long he thought the murdered man had been; dead. The The medical man declined to give any positive statement on this point 5 he could only say that when he was called in, the body was cold, and that tlie . deceased might have been dead three hours—or he might have been dead five hours. It was impossible to form an opinion with regard to the exact time at which death had taken place. The evidence of the waiter and the landland of the George only went to show that the two men had arrived at the hotel together ; that they had appeared in very high spirits, and on excellent terms with each other ; th*t Mr Dunbar had shown very great concern and anxiety about the absence of his companion, and that he had declined to eat his dinner until nine o'clock. : This closed . the evidence, and the jury retired. They were absent about a quarter of an hour, and then returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. Henry Dunbar, Arthur Lovell, and Mr Balderby went back to the hotel. It was past six o'clock when the coroner's in-quest was concluded, and they sat down to dinner at seven. i The dinner party was not a pleasant one. There was a feeling of . oppression upon rthe minds of the., three men. The awful event of the previous day cast its dreadful shadow upon them.- The} r could not talk freely of this subject, 1 for it was too ghastly a theme for discussion, and to talk of- any othei* seemed almost impossible. : Arthur Lovell had ' observed with surprise that .Henry Dunbar iiad not once spoken of his daughter. And yet this was scarcely/ strange; the Utterance of his

daughter's name might have jarred upon the father's feelings at such a time as this. .-.•.. ■ ' You will write to Miss Dunbar ;to- : night, will you not, sir.?' the young- man said at last. f I fear that she wilP haye : been very anxious about you all this day. She was alarmed by your message to Mr. Balderby.' 1 '' No, I shall not write/ the banker answered ; for I hope to see my daughter-to-night.' V 'Yoiiwill leave Winchester this evening, .then ?' . . ' Yes, I purpose to leave by the 10.15^ Express. I should have travelled by that train yesterday evening but for this terrible; event.' "'.'■.-.. Arthur Lovell looked rather astonished at this., '■■ / ' 'You seem to be surprised/ said Mr Dunbai*. 'I thought perhaps you might stay — until — ' ' Until what V asked the Anglo-Indian. 1 Everything is finished, is it not?. The inquest was concluded .'to-day..' Lshall leave full directions for the burial, of this poor fellow, and Van ample sum for his funeral expenses.- I spoke to the coroner upon that subject this afternoon. What more can I. do?'. • ' Nothing; certainly/ : answered" Arthur Lovell,. with rather a hesitating manner j 1 but I. thought, under the peculiar circumstances, it might be better that you should remain on the spot, if possible, until steps be taken for the finding of the mur- : derer.' He did not lite to give utterance to the thought that was in his mirid ; for he was thinking that some people would perhaps suspect Mr Henry Dun bar himself,, and that it might be well for him to remain upon the scene of the murder until that suspicion /should be entirely done away with the apprehension of the real .murderer. The Anglo-Indian, however, only shook his head. < I very much doubt the discovery of the guilty man/ he said. '-What is there to hinder his escape ?'.'.' . ' Everything, answered Arthur Lovell,; warmly. First, the stupidity of guilt, the blind besotted folly which so often betrays the murderer-. It is not the commission of a crime only that is horrible \. think of the. hideous state of the criminal's mind after the deed: is done. And it is at that time, immediately after the crime has been perpetrated, when the breast of the murderer: is like araginghellj.it is at that time that he is called upon to be most circumspect — to keep guard upon his every look, his smallest word, his most trivial action, — for he knows that every look and aetion r is watched; that every word is greedily' listened to by men who are eager to bring-; his guilt home to him ; by hungry : men wrestling for his conviction as. a, result chat will bi'ing them a golden reward; by practised men who have studied the pliil-. osophy of ciime, and who, by reason of" their peculiar skill,., are able to read dark meaning in words and looks that toother people are like strange language. He knows that the scent of blood is in the aiiy and that the bloodhounds are at their loathsome work. He knows this ; and at. such a time he is called upon to face- the world with a bold front, and so to fashion, his words and looks that he shall deceive;the ; secret, watchers. He is never alone. The servant who waits upon, him, or the railr way guard who shows him to his seat in the first-class carriage, the porter who carries his luggag*e, or the sailor who looks at him scrutinisingly as he breathes the : fresh sea-air upon the deck of that ship which is to- carry him to a secure hidingplace—any one of these may be, a disguised, detective, and at any moment the bolt may fall ; he may feel the light hand.upon his snoulder, and know that he is a doome.d man. Who can wonder, then, that a criminal is generally a coward,. and that he' betrays himself by some blind folly of his own ? ' . . - ! . The young man had, been carried away by his subject, and had spoken with a strange energy. . ; .. Mr Dunbar laughed aloud at thelaw-r-----yer's enthuisiasm. ' ..;:;.' _...:; ; 'You should have been a barrister^ Mr-, Lovely he said ; that would : !have.,-b.een ; a: Capital opening for your speech as. epunsel for the- crown. I can see the. wretched criminal shivering in. the dock, cowering under: that burst of forensic eloquence,.', ■■'•;; Henry Dunbar laughed heartily as he

finished speaking; and then threw himself ; 'back in his easy-chair, and passed his-- ' handkerchief across his handsome forehead, , <as it was his habit to do occasionally. J.In r this ; case Ij think, the criminal will be mpst likely; arrested;:: ' Arthur.' Lovell continued,? still- dwelMng'Tipon; the murder; :" he '■ will ;bei traced-- .by-, those- clothes. :He will endeav.pr.to sell them, of course; and ■•:. as 'he ,is - most-, likely some, .wretchedlyigvnorant boor, he will very probably' try to.;, sell them- within a few, nailes off the s^cehe ' of the crimed ; : •"■ •" : - •; : ; ; !;. :: r.-?t : 1 1-hope^he-'wiH • -be; found,'; said 3VTi? jß.al-J -f derby filling, his glass with claret . as ,. he - spoke ; knever heard : any^ good of this - man Wilmot," and, indeed, I .believe hewent to -'the bad altogether after ypu left-' England, Mr-D&nbarA • - i" k"'' '- : 'lndeed;LJ ? - ■',)■:,. .. • ..• . ;.,...v ,;~ :''.Y.bSj : answered -4lie. .junior ; partner,-, looking rather, .nervously \at his .chief ;', he - committed . forgery, I 'believe ; : fabricated-: forged bank-notes, or something of that kind, and was' transported fbr life, I hoard;U but I suppose got a remission of his' sentence, or something of that kind} arid re* - turned to. England.' : ' ■ ' •■■;-.••■"• / 1 had ho idea of this, saidMr Bunbari '■:-■ ' He .'did not tell you then ?-' \ ? -Oh no j it was scarcely likely that heshould tell .me.* : ; '•'•',-■■■■ Very little' 'rn'pre was said Upon the sub^ ject just then. kt nine- o'clock JVlr Dun--bar left "the room to see to. the packing d£i' his things ; at a little before ten the three - ; gentlemen drove away fro xqi the George ; Hotel, on their way to the station. • ' '/'■■. '.They reached the station at fi ve minutes - past ten ; the- train. was not : due until ai - quarter past. ' :■ ,- ; . : - ■; - Mr Balderby went to the ' office to pro- : cure the three tickets. -Henry .©unbar^ and Arthur Lo veil walked arniiin-arm up >' arid down the platform. • ' ■ • '■■* As the , bell for the' up-train was ringing la. mari came suddejnly. on.' the ; platform : ; looked about him. ' ' " ; . ■ ••• He . recognised this banker^ walked^ straight up to him/. arid taking- oiTlrs.hatj^ addressed Mr Dunbar respectfully. \ ' 'I am sorry to detain- you sir> he said;.. but I haye 1 a warrant to prevenfyoii leav- . ing Winchester.'- ; - ■'■' l - : '^~\ '■■■:■■■ •..'■.' - ; ■'What do'ybu mean-?' ; . ■ ':'■. '/."■'■ ■. .-? '■I hold a warrant for your apprehension,:." Sir. v ' : ' ; ; ' . • :'■■■:••. ;-;•;;,;.; .- ;r 'Frpmwhom?' • ; ■ v „ ... : ... ; ..•■ :i Ei'om Sir Arden Westhorpe, our ; chief • county magistrate ;, and I am^ to take you-i beforehirri immediately, sir.' ' : . : = Upon what charge? cried Arthur Lovell. .: ' Upon' suspicion of having been, con-: : cerned in tlie : mutder of JoSeph. Wilmbt.'- • The millionaire 1 drew himself up tily, and looked at; thaconstable with a, proud smile. . ■' : >;:; ' ' : " c This Is too ;absurdj he; said j bu^quite' ready" to go; with you. - Be'^-0 .^r enough to telegraph to 'my; daughter, Mr • Lovell, he added, turning to the::iyoung;: man; tell her that 'circumstances. :overf wh ; ioh I have no control will detain mq ml; Wihshester fbr.a week. Take care not tOsi alarqa her.' • ' ■■'''- i "w :-.]].: ; Every body about the station had 'crdllec-^ ted on; the, platform/ arid, made a. circle^ about Mr Dunbar. -They stood a littlealoof froni; him, looking at him -with re-" spectful interest : altogether different from.r: : the eager clamorous curiosity with whichthey would : have- regarded any ordinary man suspected of the same crirnei ' ' - ! \ ■■■ ■■. • He was suspected ;• but lie' could not beguilty...' Why should a millionaire commit i a murder? The • motives that might in- > flu'ence other men could haye'had no weigh' td withhim^:' ■'''■'■ ' ; • * • i, : L -~, i The by estanders this -to one > another/ a& they followed' Mr Hnlnpar. and and his custodian -- frorri the ; sta T tion,. loudly ■ indignant against the mini'oniofHhft law.v , \ Mr Dunbarj the constable,"rand-Mr Bal— derby drove straight to the v :magistrsite's houses' ;r: - ; '■■■■.-'■■• : ; oh::';:-, ,;.: :■.' : .-. ; -. ; . i The junior -partner ofFiSred^aay amount' of baitfbr his chief j.: but- the : Ariglo-'.lndian : riiotion'edihirii to 'silence^ . with . a : haughty ■■ gesture.'/ : " : '■..''■ ' ■';'' ■■■■'■ •I^thaink you, Mr Balderbyj he saidy, proudly' s ''but I will not accept my liberty' pn,sufrrfince. Sir Arden Westhprpe has ; ciiosen; to' arrest one, and. l shalL abide the; issue of that arrest; ;? / ■ : ; ;" It .was "in 'vain : that- the junior partner p^iitesteaV against ' this; ;: Henry : ©uiibar;: was; inflexible.: • 'v ; ? ■ ■ ! , 'I.iope,, and V I .venturejto believe, that you are as, innocent as I am of this^hprfible crime,; Mr I)unbar,; the baronet saidikiridly - ; and 1 sympathisewvvith^ypu' in thi& terrible-

position. But upon the information laid Mieme,l consider it my duty to detain yWTuntil the matter shall have been further investigated. You were the last person seen with the deceased.' -' And for that reason it is supposed *hat I ! : strangled my old servant for the sake of h^s clothes, cried Mr Dunbar, bitterly. I am a stranger in England ; but if that is your-English lavv, I aih. not sorry that the *best part of my life has been passed in India. However, lam perfectly willing to, submit to any examination that may be considered necessary to^ the furtherance of justice.'; •?.."'■' . "■■ --' ; So, upon the second night of his arrival in, England, Henry Dunbar, chief of the wealth .[house of Duhtiar, Dunbar, and Balderby, siept in Winchester gaol .

CH

f.~ The Prisoner is Jlemandectv. .^Mr. Dunbar was brought before Sir Arden V7esthorpe at ten o,clock on the morning after his arrest. The witnesses wHo/ihad* given' evidence at the inquest were -again summoned, and — with the exception of ifce i verger, and Mr. Dunbar, who was no w a prisoner— gave the same evidence, or- evidence to the same effect. ;; . - Arthur Lovell again watched the proceedings; in. the interest of Laura's father, and cross-examined some of the witnesses. : , But very little new evidence '. was eli--cited.; ; : .The empty pocket-book, which . had, been "found a few paces from the' body, was produced. The rope by which the murdered man had been strangled was also produced and examined." • ■.- . It was a common rope, rather slender, and about a yard, and* a- half in length. It W^s made into a running noose, that had been tightly drawn round the neck of the victim. ; : ; ■ Had. the" victim been a strong man, he might perhaps have, resisted the attack, and might /have prevented his assailant tightening the fatal knot: but the surgeon bore witness that the dead man, though, tali and stalwart-looking, had not been strong. , It! was : a strange murder— a bloodless murder: a deed that must have been done By. a man of Unfaltering resolution and iron nerve : for it must have been the work of a moment,; in which the victim's first cry of surprise was stifled ere it was half uttered. . ; - - The chief witness upon' this day was the verger; and it was in consequence of (jertain; remarks dropped by nun that Mr. fcjj^ibar had been arrested. • JPWpon the afternoon of the inquest this official had found himself a person of con* siderable importance.. He was surrounded by eager gossips, [greedy to hear anything he might have to tell on the subject of the murder! and amongst those who listened to his talk was one of the constables — a sharps clear-headed fellow— who was on the watch for any hint that might point to the secret of Joseph Wilmot's death. The verger^ in describing the events of the previous' afternoony spoke of -that one act which he had omitted . to; refer to before the coroner. He spoke ,6f the sudden faintriess which had come over Mr, Dunbar. .■; V .; ,. 'Poor .gentleman!' he said, -I "do'nt think I ever ./see the like qf anything as come over him so sudden. He walked along the aisle with his head up, dashing and milingtary-like, but all in a minute he reeled as, if £e ? d beer .dead . drunk, and he would have fell if there- ha!d'nt been a bench handy. Down, he dropped upon that bench like a stone,, and when I turned round to look at him the drops of perspiration was rollin' down his forehead like beads. I-never see such a face -in my. life, • as ghashly-like as if he had. seen a ghost. But he was laughing and smiling the next minute, and it was only the,. heat of the weather he says.' .'.;■'•■ , : 'It's: odd- as a gentleman that's just cpme home from India, should, complain oi*theheat ; on such. £ day. as- yesterday,' said one .of the' bystanders^-*- •>* . -'". This was- the. substance of , the evidence^ that- the > verger gaye. before. Sir Aarden Westhorpe., This,. with the evidencebf a boy, who had met the deceased and Mr. "Ounbar dose .to the spot where the : body was the only evidence .against te. rich. man.,. ['-.

To the" mind of Sir • A'rden Westhorpe the' agitation displayed "byrHenry Dunbar in the cathedral was. a very, strong point : yet what more possible that the Anglo-. Indian should have been seized with a mo-, mentary giddiness ? He was not a young man ; and though his broad chest, square shoulders, and long, muscular arms, betokened .strength, that natural -vigour might have been impaired by the effects of a warm climate. There were new witnesees upon this day : people who testified to having been in the neighbourhood of the grove, and in the grove itself, upon that fatal afternoon and evening. Other labourers, besides the two Irishmen, had passed beneath the shadow of the trees in the moonlig-ht. Idle pedestrians had strolled through tbe grove in the still twilight 5 not one of these had seen Joseph Wilmot, nor had there been heard any cry of anguish, or wild shrieks [.of terror. • One man deposed to having met <.a very rough-looking fellow, half-gipsy, half-«hawkei', in the grove, between seven and eight o'clock. Arthur. Lovell questioned this man as to the appearance and manner of the man he had met. But the witness declared that there was nothing peculiar in the man's mannei\ He had not seemed confused, or excited, or hurried, or frightened. He was a coarse* featured, sunburnt, rufEanly^looking 1 ; fellow, and that was all. Mr. Balderby was examined, and swore to the splendid position which Henry Dunbar occupied as chief of the House in St. Grundolph Lane, and then the examination was adjourned and the prisoner remanded, although Arthur Lovell contended that there was no evidence to justify his detention. Mr. Dunbar still protested against any offer of bail : he again declared that he would rather remain in prison than accept his liberty on sufferance,- and go out into the world a suspected man. . ! /I; will never leave Winchester Gaol,' he said, ' until I leave it with my character cleared in the eyes of every living: creature.' He had been treated with the. greatest respect by the prison officials, and had been provided with comfortable apartments. Arthur Lovell and Mr. Balderby were admitted to him whenever he chose to receive them. Meanwhile every voice in and' around Winchester was loud in indignation against those who had caused the detention of the millionaire. .Here; was an English gentleman, a man whose wealth was something fabulous, newly returned from India, eager to embrace his only child ; and before he had more than set his foot upon" his native soil, he was seized upon by obstinate and pig-headed officials and thrown into a prison. Arthur Lovell worked nobly in the service of LauraV father. He did not particularly like the man, though he wished to like him; but he believed liim to be inno- . cent of the dreadful crime imputed to him, and he was determined, to make that innocence clear to the eyes of all other people. • , For this purpose he urged on the police upon the track of that strange manj the rough-looking hawker, who had been seen in the grove on the day of the murder.. He himself left Winchester upon another : errand. He went a^ay with the determination of discovering the sick man, Sampson Wilmot. The old clerk's eyiderice'might be most important in such a case as this; as he would perhaps" rbe able to throw much light upon the ■antecedents and, associations of the dead man. The young lawyer travelled along the line, stopping at every station. At Basingstroke he was informed that an old man, travelling with, his brother, had been taken ill, and. that he- had since died_ An inquest had been, held upon, his remains tebme days before, , and he had. been buried by the garish*.. I It was upon* the- Slst of August that Arthur Lovell visited Basingstroke. The people at the. village inn, told^him that the old man. had died at two o'clock on the morning of the 17th, only a few hours after his brother's desertion of him. He had never spoken after the final stroke of paralysis. . There was nothing to be. learned, here,

therefore. Death had closed the lips of this witness. But even if . Sampson Wilmot had lived to speak, what could he have told ? The dead man's antecedents could have thrown little light upon the way in which he had met his death.- It was a common murder, after all ; a murder that had been done for the sake of the victim's little property ; a silver watch, perhaps ; a few sovereigns ; a coat, waistcoat, and shirt. ■'' The only evidence that tended in the least to implicate Henry Dunbar was the fact that he had been the last person seen in company with the dead man, and the discrepancy between his assertion and that of the verger respecting the time during which he had been absent from the cathedral yard. No magistrate in his senses would commit the Anglo-Indian for trial upon such evidence as this.

CHAPTER XIV.

Margaret's Journey. While these things were taking place at Winchester, Margaret waited for" the coming of her father. She waited until her heart grew sick, but still she did not despair of his return. He had promised to come back to her by ten o'clock on the evening of the 16th; but he was not a man who always' kept his promises. He had often left her in the same manner, and had stayed away for days and weeks together. There was nothing extraordinary, therefore, in his absence; aDd if the girl's, heart grew sick, it was , not with the fear that her father would not return to her; but with the thought of what dishonest work he might be engaged in during his absence. .• ; She now knew, that he led a dishonest life. His own lips had told her the cruel truth. She would no long-er be able to defend him when people spoke against him. Henceforth she must only plead for him. ; The poor girl had been proud of her father, reprobate though he- was; she had been proud of his gentlemanly bearing, his cleverness, his air of superiority over other people of his station ;• and the though^ of his acknowledged guilt stung her to the heart. She pitied him, and she tried to make excuses for him in her own mind : and with every thought of the penniless reprobate there was intermingled the memory of the wrong that had been done him by Henry Dunbar. ' If my father has been guilty, that man is answerable for iiis guilt/ she thought perpetually. Meanwhile, she waf&d, heaven only knows how anxiously, for her father.- A week passed, and another week began, and still he did not come. But she was not alarmed for his personal safety, she was only anxious about him - r and she expected his return every day, every hour. But he did not come. ( And all this time, with her mind racked by anxious thoughts, the girl went about the weary duties of her daily life. Her. thoughts might wander away into, vague speculations about her father's absence while she sat by her pupil's side, but her eyes never wandered from the fingers it was her duty to watch. Her life had been a hai'd one, and she was better able to hide her sorrows and anxieties than any one to whom such a burden had been a novelty. So very few people suspected that there was anything amiss with the grave young music-mistress. One person saw the vague change in. her manner. That person was Clement Austin, who had already grown- skilled, in. reading* the varying expressions of her face, and who now saw that she was changed. She listened to "him "when he talked to her of the books or the music • she loved; but her face never lighted- up with a bright look of pleasure, and he heard her sigh now and then as she gave her little pnpil her lessons. . He asked her once if there was anything in which his services, or his mothers, could be of any assistance to her; but she thanked. him for the kindness of his offer, and said, l No, there was nothing in which, he could help her.' . 'But I am sure there is something in your mind.' Pray do not think me intrusive or impertinent for saying so, but I am sure of it.' .: • .

Margaret Wentworth only shook be head. : I am mistaken, then ?' said'Glement, in--terrogatively. ... 1 You are indeed. I. have no; specials trouble. lam only a little uneasy about my father, who has been away from home - for the last week or two. , But there .is - nothing strange in that ; he is bften>way.;, Only I am very apt to be i foolishly, anxious : abont . him. He will scold me when he - comes home, and. hears- that I. have been i; SO.' . _;.■;-. „, ]' . '. .. ' ■"'■■ ■'" Upon the. evening^ of the 27th of August Margaret gave her accustomed lesson, and -i lingered a little as usual after the lesson, \ talking to Mrs Austin, who had taken a wonderful fancy to her granddaughter's ■ music-mistress, and talking also to Cle* , ment, who somehow or oth ■*• had discon- ; tinued- his summer evening \\alks of late,.'., more especially on those occasions on> which his niece took her music-lessons. They talked of all manner of things, and" it was scarcely strange that among other - topics they should come by and by to. the-. Winchester murder. . { By the by, Miss Wentworth,' ex- - claimed Mrs. Austin, . breaking' in upon . Clement's disquisition on his favourite Carlyle's 'Hero-Worship/ 'I suppose 3'ou' ye heard about this * dreadful murder . that is making such a sensation just,, now.' •■ " „' ... 'A dreadful murder — no, Mrs. Austin; -. I rarely hear anything of that kind; for • the person with whom I lodge is old and. deaf. She troubles herself very ,littleabout what is going on in the world, . and I never do read the newspapers . ; myself/'- ' : . 'Indeed; said Mrs. Austin^; well my; dear you really surprise me; ■■! thought : : this dreadful business ; had made such a-, sensation, on account of the great- Mr: - Diinbar being mixed r up in it.' 'Mr Dunbar ! Mr Dunbar !' cried Mar--garet, looking at the speaker with dilated^ eyes. . '. . ' ■ • 'Yes, my dear, Mr T>mil6at, J the- rich* banker. I have been very much interested in the matter j because my son is : employed. in Mr Dunbar's bank. It seems that -an. old servanr, a confidential valet ot-Mr • Dunbar's, has been murdered at' Winche- - ter; and at first Mr Dunbai' was suspected of the crime — though, of course, that was utterly ridiculous | for what motive could he possibly have had for murdermg; his old servant ? However, he Has been suspected, and some stupid country magistrate actually had him arrested. Therewas an examination- about a week- ag0,... which was adjourned until to-day. We shan't know the result of it till tomorrow.' . ••-■•:• Margaret sat listening to these words with a. face as white as- the- face of the deadV ■ Clement Austin saw the sudden change ■ that, had come over her countenance. Mother, he said,. you, should not talk of these things before Miss Wentworth ; youhave made her look quite 01. Remember she may not be so strong-minded as you^ ax 3.' . . * No, no ! ' gasped Margaret, in a chockvoice, ' I — l wish to hear of this. Tell me, Mrs Austin, what was the name of, the man ?.' . . ' ' Joseph Wilmot!.' . (To be continued.)- :

Night Journey in? 'Iceland: — A% the- >. night progressed— if I might call that , night when, the sun-.was-still in, the heavens , — theclouds left the. mountains, and the - stately pile of the Esja stood out purpleniantled,. with;its ravines choked. with snqfrIt was ,a still Arctic midnight. "The -Sky was flooded with; light, .toning the azure - to the tenderest green. Olouds'were transmuted to rose flakes, and mist to ;'a nebit- ' lous haze of green flame j some ragged . cloud patches, jhigk above; the" mountain . peaks,. flamed like gold in^the furnace, ; their shadows picked out^in^caYmine. : A : crown' of. rays,- extending 1 : Jtjo .;. Jhe zenith,' . streamed from, 'Esja, whio|i i^was thrown, into- grey ; .shadow. Rocfc* atid mountain „ were distiric.t,\asj-though^see^ through" an^ opera glass j every crag ; 'and Vftirrow Was pencilled ;with wondrous minuteness, each V mountain top cuttings against the 1 ; sky with / intense precision. Though no direct rays = of sun touched the earth, yet the reflected i. light from above made everything eveipi , clearer than by day \ when :' a^-i'siight haae'sj softens outlines and blends boiors I .—' -B|^ r *'\ ing Gduld's Iceland, &c', V- -" 1 ■'.'.'■ '\J-. ' Vi \ \