CHAPTER XLVII-CONTINUED

Grey River Argus, Volume XIII, Issue 1654, 22 November 1873, Page 4

Mr Peyman moved and Mr Wazlacb seconded a vote of confidence in Mr Curtis as Superintendent of the Province of Nelson.

Mr Tobias Glbnnon moved as an amendment "That after the last seven years experience of the Curtis administration, it is the opinion of this meeting that it would be a great calamity to the Province of Nelson if Mr Curtis is again returned as its Superintendent." After a considerable pause, Mr C. Brown said he would second it if no one else did.

Thoozy followed up the stairs, while Bill, running before with the impetuosity of a Peter, reached the door of Dick's chamber, and opened it.

" What's that, Thooxy?" he whispered, pointing to the floor.

'Bill stopped and looked. A blank dread filled his soul. He trembled :he dared not speak. Behind him he heard Thoozy's crutch, as he limped up the stairs. He waited.

The lamp was out. They stood in darkness. Only on the floor before f hern a black form.

" They've always one on the stairs," replied the other. " Don't move, Thoozy — don't move."

"Go and ge6 a light," he whispered. " Run — quick. Do you know where to find one ?"

Thoozy did not answer. The light on the staircase was in his eyes, and he could see nothing. The two boys, clinging to each other, stood shivering with fear, as in the doorway Thoozy made out, in the twilight, the figure of a man upon the floor.

He disapeared. As soon as he was gone, Thoozy entered the room, and kneeling down, felt the face of the man who lay so still. It was that of Uncle Dick. He knew it by the long silken beard. A whisper reached his ears.

'"Wl'.ois it?" the policeman said to little Bill. " Mr Mortiboy," said Bill, as if all the world knew him. " Does he live here always ?" "No, he lives at Market Basing," said Bill, trembling, in spite of the last few weeks' experience, at sight of a policeman. " He's my uncle Dick." < " He isn't really his uncle," whispered Thoozy. "He took care o' little Bill. He's no relation at all — told me so hisself." Meantime the doctor was at work. His face grew very pale. Dick opened his eyes with an effort, and looked at him. " How long?" he asked. "It is a very serious accident," began the doctor. "How long?" repeated Dick, in a hoarse whisper. " Perhaps half an hour." "Take paper, and let me make a statement to save trouble." " Speak very low," whispered the doctor. " I can hear. Do not exert yourself more than you can possibly uick began, in a faint voice — "I — Richard — Melliship — Mortiboy — declare that I — have accidently shot myself while preparing to clean my pistol." You see, he was true to his old partner to the very lasb. Went out of the world with a lie on his lips, to save him. The doctor wrote. " Place the pen in my hand, and guide me. I want to sign it in presence of yourself and the policeman," said the dying man. It was done. With faultering fingers, Dick traced his name for the last time. " Have you any testamentary depositions to make or alter?" " Give me — water — brandy — something." They held up his head — the forehead dank and cold, the cheeks pale, the eyes only opening from time to time with an effort — and the doctor gave him a spoonful of brandy. This revived him a little. " Write,' v he said. " Dearest Cousin Grace, I am dying. You can find Frank easily. All my money will be yours and Lucy's. Let Frank and Ghrimes be partners. God bless you, my dear. If I had lived, I would haye — " Here he stopped. Presently he went on again. " Eemember that I love you for all you have done for me, but that I give you up freely and entirely. Let the money go back to help the poor as much as may be." He stopped again. Another spoonful of brandy. " Tell my father — " Here he paused : a strange look of bewilderment crossed his lace. "Ah'" he sighed, "it is no use now to tell him anything. I shall tell him myself." The doctor thought he was rambling. " Where is little Bill ?" he whispered. The doctor put .the child's face to his. " Oh, Uncle Dick ! don't die ! Don't die, Uncle Dick!" Dick kissed the tear-wet cheek that lay upon his cheek, and his head fell back. " Poor little chap !" he murmured. They were his last words. A moment after, without a sigh or a groan, he turned his head to one side — they had brought a pillow from the bed-room — and opened his eyes no more. Dick was dead. Ah ! the pity of it — the pity of it ! "Coroner's inquest," said the policeman. "Were you here, my boys?" "No," said Thoozy. "We found him here. He told us to come at nine " " Can we telegraph ?" said the doctor. "Who to? We may look in the desk. These boys can't help us. Go to bed, my ladx," he said, in a kindly voice. " You can't do any good here." They searched the desk. N® sign of an address. There were no cards upon him, and no letters. "We might," said the policeman — "we might send to the police-office of Market Basing for information." Thoozy followed little Bill to his bedroom. Both were crying and lamenting. " Bill," said Thoozy, after, a pause, " it's all over — he won't help you and me no more. He's dead, is Uncle Dick. Why couldn't I die ? I'm no use in the world io nobody. I've got 120 money — I've only got rheumatiz. Why couldn't I die, and Uncle Dick live ? Come, Bill, it's no use stopping here no longer. Let's go, you and me." " Not back to Mother Kneebone's," said Bill. " No, not back to Kneebone's. Let's go a long way off — miles away — where they won't find us. and live together. How much money have you got, Bill ?" " I've got a sovereign. He gave it me yesterday." " I've got three shillin'. He gave it me to day. And we've got our clothes. Let's go, Bill." He took the child by the arm, and they stepped out stealthily upon the stairs, and crept down. Thoozy leaning on Bill. When they got into the street, Thoozy led the way eastward. They passed through Covent-garden, and down Drury-lane. They walked up Fleetstreet, Ludgate-hill, Cheapside, and so oa to the Whitechapel-road, In ful-

" One chamber fired," he murmured. "Who is he?" he asked Thoozy. "I don't know. He knows— Bill knows. He was a-goin' to do something for me. He gave me these clothes today, and told me to come at nine," sobbed Thoozy.

The doctor unbuttoned the waistcoat, and looked for the -wound. On the floor lay the pistol— he trod upon it. The policeman took it, and after carefully looking at it, placed it in his own pocket.

" More light," said the doctor. " Boy, light that lamp." It was a moderator, the mechanism of which was unknown to Thoozy. Tne policeman lit it.

" I have had an accident," Dick murmured, feebly. " Half an hour ago— an old pistol — shot myself iv the side — no one in the house to help me — left side — don't move me — I am bleeding to death."

He took the candle, and began to examine his patient. A weak whisper greeted him.

Thoozy limped away, forgetting his crutch, and poor little Bill heard him descend step by step. He was left alone with Dick. Ter rera of every kind assailed his heart. He could not speak. All he could do was to lie along the floor, Ms cheek against Dick's, to feel him breathing, to know that he was living. Minutes that seemed hours passed slowly away. At last, he heard footsteps again. Thoozy was returning, bringing some one with him. It was the doctor. Thoozy's good sense led him into Waterloo-place, where he knew there was a policeman ; of him he got the address of the nearest surgeon. The policeman went with him, suspecting something wrong. The doctor was at home, and came at once.

" Give him more water," said Thoozy. "lam going out for a doctor. Don't let him move till I come back."

Bill returned at the moment. Thoozy snatched the candle from him, and got a carafe from the bedroom, from which he poured a few drops into the dying man's mouth. He sprinkled his face*; and then little Bill, who had watched with pale face trembling lips, fell headlong on the ground, weeping and sobbing, kissing the cheeks and lips of his patron, and crying in his agonv — " Oh 1 Uncle Dick— Uncle Dick <""

" Go — fetch a doctor— quick ! G*»t a light — water, for God's sake i"

ness of time, after many stoppages — for they slept an hour on this doorstep and an hour on that — they arrived, when day broke, somewhere in the Eastend of London, where there were masts of ships innumerable. " It's the clock," said Thoozy. " Now we'll wait, and look about us." 1 In the afternoon of that fatal day, \ Hester was pushing Mr Mortiboy's Bath chair slowly round the broad gravel paths, according to her wont, in front of the house in Derngate. Lucy Heathcote walked by her uncle's side, now and then saying a kind Word to the old man, to rouse and cheer him. She had been more hopeful of his recovery of late days. The worst symptoms had improved ; his eyes were brighter ; he had begun to be interested in little things about him ; and his features had gained baok something of their old expression. In her hand was the Bible, from -which she was reading favorite passages to her uncle In health he would never be " read to" — in his sickness he made no sign of dissent. Lucy's presence soothed him. He loved to have her near him. She knew he liked to hear her voice, though his poor palsied wits seemed to have neither memory nor understanding. So she read on. She was stooped by "a loud cry from Hester. " Oh ! Miss Lucy ! look at your uncle, miss ! Oh ! what shall we do !" Lucy dropped her Bible. The old man's face was suddenly distorted fearfully, and he lay back upon his pillows, breathing heavily and laboriously. He had had another stroke. The girl thought he would die there. Hester was helpless from fright. "Run — run — for the nurse; then send for Dr. Kirby — don't lose a second," cried Lucy. The nurse came from her tea, with her mouth full of bread and butter. She was calm and unmoved in the young girl's grief and the old servant's terror. She was quite equal to the situation. It had been her business to see people die. She showed her superiority by giving her orders calmly. Hester was dispatched for the doctor. "There's death in his face, miss. Let us take him in. He won't be with us many hours now." Sobbing greviously, Lucy lent her hand to wheel the dying man into his bed-room. The window opened on to the lawn. " Oh, how horrible it seems, nurse ! Oh, let us try to get him out of his chair! Oh, poor Uncle 'Richard — my dear — my dear !" He was a heavy weight — dead weight — for he could not move hand or foot — both sides wero palsied now ; but the arms of the nurse were as strong as a man's. With little help from Lucy she got him on to his bed. The girl — sole one among his relatives who had ever loved old Readymoney Mortiboy — fell upon her knees by the bedside, and prayed to God. The man turned his eyes towards her. She saw he was still conscious. " Oh ! uncle," she implored, " try — try to pray — try to follow my words. Uncle Richard," she cried, in an agony of grief, "oh ! Uncle Richard — try to make your peace with God." But Mr Mortiboy was unconscious again. The doctors came in a few minutes. Their language was j>lain : they did not try to disguise the truth. The period of the old man's life might be reckoned in minutes. They could do nothing, but they stayed to see the end. Ghrimes was sent for. He alone knew Dick's London address. It was past eight o'clock before he came bac> from the country, where he had business. He came — touched his old master'vs powerless, helpless hand, and hurried away to the telegraph office to summon Dick from London. Vain errand ! For five hours from the time of his last stroke, the old man lay on his bed like one dead. He breathed, but every moment with less strength. To Lucy Heathcote it seemed like five days. Her father and mother were there with her, but she thought only of him who lay dying with them, all round his bed. The death struggle came at nine o'clock. There was an inarticultae sound first from the old man's lips. Then he spoke. They all heard it. He said, " My— son— Dick," and lay there — dead. " Dick ought to be here at half-past ten," John Heathcote whispered to his wife.

The presence of a tragic event like this melted for a moment the animosity of her mother to Grace. They fell into each other's arms, sobbing and crying. Dick was dead ! Dick the generous : Dick the noble : Dick the true and brave ! Dick was dead ! nor was it for a full half-hour that Mrs Heathcote, recovering herself the first, was able dimly to realize the change that this event might cause ho her. Dick was deadalas ! poor Dick ! But then — but then — all the fortune — the half million of money— whose would this be 1 Whose should it be, sue asked herself, but her own ? And already beginning the imaginary reign of splendour over which she had brooded so many years, a dream interrupted by Dick's return, she held her handkerchief to her eyes, and in the iutervals of weeping indulged in delicious visions of grandeur. Mr Heathcote found Market Basing literally in tears. The people, nearly all tenants of the great Mortiboy estates, were gathered in knots, discussing the event. No news was came except by telegram ; but there was scarcely any room for doub+. Dick Mortiboy was dead. The women wept aloud : the men in silence : all had lost a friend, the kindest-hearted friend they ever had — the most ready to help. No one to whom Dick, in his short reign, of four months, had not done some kind action : not one who could not speak from experience of his soft heart and generous nature. As the farmer drove through the crowd that besieged the bank with enquires, the fresh tears rose to his own eyes, and he go* down at the door almost crying like a child. No one cared about the old man now. Dead ? Keady-money dead ? Well, he had been a long time dying. He had passed away, four months ago, from men's minds. John Heathcote arrived at the bank, went through to the manager's office, where he found Ghrimes was there with Battiscombe, to whom Ghrimes had sent after dispatching his message to Parkside. •' Do you know of any will, Mr Battiscombe ?" asked Ghrimes. " None. I have the keys — I suppose we ought to look." In Dick's private safe, business papers in plenty ; but no will. Stay, a packet labelled, " Private : to be opened after my death." " Open it," said the lawyer. Ghrimes opened and read it. It was short and concise. It was the confession of Polly Tresler. As he read it, his face assumed a puzzled expression. He handed it over to Mr Battiscombe, who read it unmoved. Lawyers are seldom surprised at anything which appears abnormal to the rest of mankind. Ghrimes was shocked at the idea of Dick's secret marriage. " That explains," he whispered, " the early quarrel between himself and his father. That is the reason why Dick ran away." " Perhaps. It is hard to say. No great crime for a young fellow to beguiled by a woman into making a fool of himself," said the lawyer. "Itis as pretty a confession of bigamy — trigamy, even — as ever I read. Names, dates, churches, all given. Upon, my word, this woman is an exceedingly clever person. It is signed by her, and written by poor Mr Mortiboy himself; dated, too % only a fortnight ago. Mary Tresler, Mary Tresler — I know her, daughter of that drunken old gipsy woman who married my father's gardener a long time ago. Ah, dear me !" - " What is to be done T " Clearly, we must first establish the truth of her statements. I think, Ghrimes, I had better go to town and see to this myself, to prevent complica tions. Meantime, say nothing to the lieathcotes — to anybody. There may, besides, be a will. To prevent raising hopes in their minds, tell them, what is quite true, that you don't know whether any will was made or not. You know, of course, that if there is no will, Mrs Heathcote, is the sole heiress. She inherits everything — ever} thing." Then Mr Heathcote arrived. " We must have a coroner's inquest," said Mr Battiscombe. " There must be a funeral. There is everything to be done. Will you come to town with me?' «No — yes — what shall I do Ghrimes?" "Go by all means. The train starts in half an hour. I will send a message to Parkside. Go up to town, and see the last of your poor cousin." They went to London— down to Dick's chambers, where they found the doctor and the old woman in charge. The doctor was standing by the bedside, with his chin on his hands, thoughtfully gazing on. the stark and stiff form which Jay covered with, a sheeh irom his face. " You are his cousin Vhe said. " I am taking a last look at the unfortunate man. It is a singularly handsome face — a face of wonderful sweetness and goodness : a good man, I should say. And the most splendidly built man I ever saw. How could he have done it?" The lawyer was reading Dick's last words, his only will and testament. John Heathcote solemnly looked upon the features of him who had been almost his own son. "He says lie did it by accident," said Mr Battiscombe. "Yes, yes; but how?— how? Look here." The doctor drew back the sheet, and showed the spot were the wound had been inflicted. " You see the place. Very well, then. Now take this pencil, hold it any way you like, and see if you could shoot 3 r oursel ? in the left s^e, so far back, if the pencil was a pist°l« I defy you to do it. It is very odd. Yet I he said he did it."— Once a-week/*

The amendment was then put and negatived, the voting for it being 17, and against it 27. The motion was carried amidst much applause. After a vote of thanks to the Chairman 1 , the meeting broke up.