WILD WARREN. A STORY OF WHAT HAPPENED ONE CHRISTMAS EVE.

North Otago Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1160, 25 December 1875, Page 1 (Supplement)

WILD WARREN. A STORY OF WHAT HAPPENED ONE CHRISTMAS EVE.

Bt J. A.

It was the 24th December, seventeen hundred and—well never mind the exact year—suffice it to say near a century ago, that an old woman sat solitary over toe embers of a dying fire, in a tiny cottage not a hundred yards from the Kennet, one of the rivers of the fair county of Berks. The whitewashed room was neat and clean, and (he backs and seats of the rough beechen chairs, polished brightly with beeswax, and the snowy top of the deal table shewed that the solitary occupant of that humble dwelling was at once industrious and neat to scrupulousness. As her surroundings, so her dress: her goffered cap white as a lily, and her dark flowered, print gown -well befitted the kind, comely old woman, who was known and welcome far round the country side as Dame Rogers, and who had had much to do -with perhaps the most important event in the lives of a good many, for she called herself a 'monthly' nurse, though her humble patrons oftener employed her for a week than a month. On this particular evening she had laid aside her knitting, and her thoughts ■were busy with reminiscences of many happier Christmas eves, when children of her own gathered round her hearth, and of Christmas eves that shewed first one vacant chair and then another, until all had been gathered in to the home of the Great Father. And now, in, her loneliness, a tear or two stole gently down her forrowed cheeks, as she sat and mused and listened—listened to the pattering rain, for it was a wet Christmas, and the storm was pelting against the tiny panes of her window. The Dutch clock in the corner "warned" for twelve, <and raking the embers together Dame Rogers prepared to retire, when she suddenly stood and listened. Yes ; it •was the sound of wheels, and the tramp of horses splashing through the mud towards her door. Who could it be ? She knew of no summons likely to reach her at this time, certainly expected no messenger save on foot or on horseback, for carriages there were none but the squire's and the rector's. But she had not long to wait. The vehicle drew up, and with a loud knock, a voice enquiring for Dame Rogers bade her open the door. She did so, and saw a man on the threshold heavily muffled up, and standing behind him a carriage and pair of horses that had evidently been ridden fast and f*r, for they were splashed with mud and almost enveloped in a cloud of steam, that curled up in grey volumes aiound the carriage lamps. Advancing to the table the midnight visitor threw down a netted purse, through the meshes of which a goodly Bomber of golden guineas gleamed brightly, and bade her prepare to accompany bim instantly. In answer to ier questionings he sternly refused to give the name of the lady by whom heroerricep were required. "There's your fee," he said, emptying from the pone twenty gold pieces, "and you

will have another like it when your work in done — but "do questions ; and come at once." Observing that she hesitated, he continued, " I have orders to take you by force, if necessary, and I have an assistant with me in the carriage — so you had better come quietly." There was an air of mystery about the matter which the old nurse did not like, but she had no choice : so hastily donning her bonnet and cloak, she prepared to follow her conductor to the carriage. She got in and was whirled away in the darkness and the rain, bound whither % She could not tell ; for leaving the road the carriage struck across an open moor, and presently forded a stream, journeying thence for near two hours through narrow lanes, between high hedges, then through a plantation, till presently the wheels grinding on the gravel told her that they had reached some gentleman's drive. Here the carriage stopped, the door was opened, and the old woman was blindfolded, pinioned, and gagged, and the driver remounting the box drove on again. In a few minutes he drew up, aud some one advancing to the carriage door assisted its occnpant out, and set her feet on a door step, thence she was led through a hall, thence up a night of stairs, thence throxigh a corridor, knowing not whither (though she counted the steps of the stairs, and her paces as she went) — a door opened and was closed behind her, and someone advancing bade her have no fear, but keep silence, removed the gag, and the bandage from her eyes, and released her arms. It was a splendid chamber, an enormous fire was bnrning on the wide hearth, and the great tongues of flame threw flickering shadows on the ceiling, and shewed clear and plain the pattern of the handsome crimson hangings of a large four-post beads tead, round which the curtains were closely drawn. Besides herself she saw only one person in the chamber, the same who had just removed the bandage, a tall dark man, whose face was hidden by a mask of crape. Pointing to the bed he said " There's your patient " ; and, turning to the fira-place, rested his elbow on the I mantelpiece, and leaning his head on his hand waited silent and gloomy. Presently the fiaint cry of a child sounded through the chamber, and ad- : vancing towards the bed the stern, silent man took an infant from the nurse's arms. He strode to the fire-place, the tiny pink feet were grasped in his broad j bony hand, and in an instant its life had been dashed out against the cold marble, and the little body lay quivering in the roaring fire. A cry of horror burst from Dame Rogers' lips, consciousness left her, and she would have fallen but that the murderer's strong arms caught her, and carried like a feather, she was thrust into a small boudoir opening from the chamber. When consciousness returned she was a prisoner, and it was not for some hours that the key was turned, and she was bidden to attend to the lady, her charge. For days she was left alone with her patient, everything she required being brought to her by the man with the crape mask. Not a word would her patient tell of the man or the place, and vainly Dame Rogers sought to find out where 8he was, and why the horrible scene she had witnessed had been enacted.' The windows of the room in which she was a prisoner were closed by shutters on the outside, which she tried in vain to open, and she had no clue to guide her. She had never seen the lady before, and the man — his height and figure were like those of Squire "Warren, " Wild " Warren he was called ; but if it were he — no, it could not be he ; the squire had been absent from the Court for years, and he was an unmarried man. Besides, this could not be the Court, for it was only two miles' distance from the cottage, and it had taken more than as many hours fast driving to reach this place. But she would fathom this mystery. Sheremembered how many stairs she had been brought up, she had counted the steps, and she knew how many paces it was from the head of the staircase to the door of the room. Could she find the house again, she would know the room and the mantlepiece — yes, and that stain on the boards by the fireplace — and the furniture — yes, there was a clue, aud, taking a pair of scissors from the dressing table, she cut a piece oat of the damask hangings of the bed, stitching up the- rent while the lady slept. A fortnight passed, and again at midnight Dame Rogers was gagged and blindfolded and bound, and again through the darkness a cai'riage bore her away. She was thrust inside her own door, something heavy fell upon the table, and the sound of wheels told her that the equipage had gone. With the morning light came assistance, and there on the table was another purse of golden guineas, and within the purse a scrap of paper warning her, as she valued her life, not to search into the mystery. But she heeded not the threat, and at once sought out the nearest magistrate, to whom she told her strange story. Search and enquiry was made, but three years passed, and no clue was discovered ; and then another strange tale began to be whispered about the country side. A lady, the sister of Wild Warren, had died at Charlton Court, and it was said she did not rest in her grave, for at midnight on the Christmas eve after her death, a guest sleeping in the red room had seen a strange sight It. was a lady in long

white garments, standing wringing her hands by the fire-place, and then passing out through the locked door with a sound of rustling garments. And the next Christmas, and the next, the same story of a ghostly visit was told, and curiosity presently attracted not a few to the haunted chamber. Among them waB Nurse Rogers. Ascending the broad staircase of the Court she without thought counted the steps — the same number as she counted on that Christmas eve five years before ! Then she counted the paces along the corridor to the door of the haunted room. The same again ! She entered ; and lo ! the same fireplace, the same bedstead — the same crimson hangings, and, yes, the very rent in the damask she had sewn up — and the missing piece was in her possession. Discovery followed; suspicion fell upon Wild Warren, and resulted in his eventually being brought to trial. But he was not to die by the hand of man. Money procured an acquittal through bribery of an unjust judge, to whom Warren gave the reversion of his property, and who soon came into possession of the price of corruption, for in the very next hunting season Wild Warren's horse, in jumping a fence, fell with him and killed him on the spot. Strangely enough the judge himself, within a year of taking possession of the estate, came to a similar violent death, and neither of the two succeeding Charltons died in his bed. So the Court has been abandoned for years, as a residence of the family, being tenanted only by a housekeeper and a few servants, by whom the crimson chamber, with its blood-stained mantelpiece, is still shown to curious visitors, and the story is still told of " What happened there on a Christmas Eve," just as it was told to the writer five-and- twenty years ago.