Tales and Sketches.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 30, 19 August 1871, Page 16

Tales and Sketches.

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. A Yachting Stoey. [From All the Yeab Round.] CHAPTER XXII. —VICTOEY AND DEATH. It was a quiet evening, very still, andthe sun, setting, was leaving great fiery welts and streaks across the sky. The videttes and stragglers of the gaunt firs sprawled their arms against this brilliant background in a very animating fashion. The town was deserted, there being a little fair going on outside St. Arthur's. Jessica wandered off nearly a mile away to the hill side, across the river, where lay the castle peeping through the thick planting, the throne, as it were, upon which her cruel and victorious enemy sat. All the country round, the trees, the falling valleys, and gentle hills, the very spot on which she stood, was Laura's; even that noble river, Heaven's free gift to man, she had tried to grasp that, and it was actually hers ; the fishing, the banks, all that was worth having ; only the bare fiction of a legal theory gave the public the use of the water. This thought made her lips curl. ' A poor insignificant child, no soul, no wit, or intellect, to be thus endowed ; and for a whim, no more, pursue vindictively one who was her superior in everything!' It was hard, too, she was thinking as she sat down on the rustic bench, how these blows came, as it were, in a series. Who could help being stunned? Here she was on the eve of leaving her home, and of going out on the world, having lost beside what might have been her life and happiness. There might have been some interval, surely something to break the stroke, but such is the cruel dispensation of this life. Afar off she saw the long windows of the castle all ablaze with soft light, across which shadows flitted occasionally. It must have been one of the' state banquets,' I in which Mrs Silvertop revelled, got up to celebrate the grand * conquest' of the daughter of the house, and defeat of the aspiring parson's daughter. 'Yes,' she said, bitterly, ' they will have sent round word to the regular toadies and jackals of the parish, who will sing in chorus down the table, "so suitable, so nice, so charming.' " It was a bitter cruel defeat and mortification. But wealth in this world must always win. If she had been tricky, or tried finesse, how easily she could have worsted that poor, contemptible, spoiled child ! She has been too scrupulous, and had wrecked her whole life. The other was to be happy, while she was to be an outcast. She should be punished—punishment here would be only justice. And it was no harm to pray that it may overtake her for the many wrongs she had done to her. She walked straight to the bank and found all the stone piers cleared away, the walks filled up; then turned away hastily. It seemed the emblem of a victory, victory after a long and weary struggle, in which she had carried off so much of the spoil. The sight filled her with grief and anger. Some minutes passed, when, looking towards the sea, she could make out the mainsail flashing up the mast, and the forsail spreading—signs to her that the sailing was at hand. He was on board, and her heart sank ; with this she felt the dear dream was to end, the lights to go out, and she to begin to bear about within her a chilled heart. She turned tier eyes away, almost hoping that when next she looked it might be gone. They rested, then, on the castle, where the other sat in triumph. She was standing sheltered behind a clump of trees, and was so absorded that she did hot hear a light step and rustle. Looking round, she started at seeing a face eagerly looking out and watching the yacht utterly unconscious that any one was near. This apparition almost stopped the current of her blood. Yet surely this was too hard, too much of a triumph ! Miss Panton was only a few feet away from her, and never stirred. The excitement, and her lov», made her look almost beautiful. She was in her dinner dress, a light opera cloak wrapped about her, with flowers in her hair. There was something strange about this apparition among the trees and real .flowers, and any looker-on might have fancied that now the Bridge of Sighs was gone, she must have fluttered in some ghostly way; across that river. The eager face was lit up with joy and excitement. She seemed to strain upwards so as to make herself conspicuous to the craft, now so lazily lifting its wings. Next she was waving a handkerchief, and Jessica started as she heard her say aloud and with delight: f 'He sees me ! My own darling ! So she watched, and so did the other watch, until the vessel had glided slowly out to sea. Then Laura turnedand gave, a start of surprise that seemed like one of terror, as she,saw Jessica, standing before her>, There was a silence. < - '■* What have you come here for ? : she said, at last. ' Was it to &eeihatj' And she pointed^' • Well, there he sails away !. Allybur watching will never bring him back to you.'

Her cheek was pale, her chest panting, and her excitement seemed to grow as she ' I did you no harm,' answered Jessica, slowly, and with a curious bitterness and disdain, ' and never meant to do so. You seem to exult that you have striven to Separate, to bribe from me the only one that I liked, and that liked me !' The other did not answer for a moment. ' Well, there he sails,' said Miss Panton, ' bound to me for ever, to return in three weeks to fulfil his engagement. It seems sudden, does it not ? but he has told me fairly and nobly that he will strive hard to love and worship me as I deserve. This is the end of your hatred and your plots against me!' , * Yes ; you are entitled to some exertion on his side,' the other answered, her father's color rushing to her cheeks. ' All tthis place, those lands, and estates, and that fine castle entitles you to that, of right. He told me he would carry out his contract honorably. But with all your lands and castles, I tell you, you have purchased him cheaply!' Flashes of scarlet came into that pale face, and seemed to flow over her throat. Her lips trembled with nervous anger. You dare to speak to me in this way—you and your scheming father, whose plots we have detected and seen through ! And from whom he escaped. Thank Heaven ! his eyes were opened, and by me! I own it. So you persuade yourself that he is forced into this—has sold himself. I wish I had ten times as much to give him/ She was growing more and more excited every moment. Jessica lost all restraint. • But did he tell you why he was forced into this step—to give the one he loved up ? That it was a sacrifice to save his father and family. You know it and cannot deny it. It is your money that will set the family all straight.' The other was turning as pale as she had been crimson before. ' And after that there is more. What if he had offered to make a solemn oath—which he would fulfil if the opportunity came ? But which,' she added with scorn, ' at this instant I release him from. If ever he was free again, and came to me on his knees ■ with that amende, I would not accept it!' ' What is this—what oath ? What do you mean? How dare you!' said the other, faintly. Jessica turned away with triumph. l have made her feel at last,' she thought. 'Nothing,' she resumed aloud. 'You have forced me to say more than I intended. Go your way, and let us never meet, or see each other more.' She received no answer save a faint cry, and looking round saw Miss Panton sinking on a bench, her hand to her side, her handkerchief to her mouth. 'Run, and quickly ! Help—to the—house.!' she gasped faintly. The hankerchief fell from her mouth as she spoke, and Jessica saw with horror there was a streak of blood upon it. 'Quick,' said the other more faintly. ' Cross ! cross over. Oh, I shall die !—die here ! The boat! ' Terror stricken, and scarcely knowing what she did, she turned and rushed toward the river bank, as if to cross by the old familiar bridge. This was but an instinct; and she recollected with a pang that there could be- now no means of getting across. What was she to do ? Ah, the bridge was gone! There was the castle, the merry diners, the doctor himself among tb.em, appearing only a few hundred yards or so away—in reality more than a mile off. In a sort of agony of despair she tossed her arms wildly to attract the attention of some one at the windows, and then as wildly started off like a deer along the banks of the river. She was so bewildered and horrorstricken, that she had no space to reflect, or think of a plan. The shortest way was the little path along the banks under the trees. She seemed pursued by all the furies of indecision and desperation ; for she could only think of that fatal stain on the that the unhappy girl must die before aid could come —then hurry on angry with herself for losing precious moments. With an indefinable terror over her, and ready to sink with agony and fatigue, she at last reached the high road, where the broad three-arch county bridge crossed the river, and on the other side of which was the great gateway of Panton Castle. She was so exhausted, she had to stop and lean for rest upon the parapet. The sun had already set; there were but a few red embers in the west. Desperately struggling to regain strength for fresh exertion, two minutes more would bring her to the lodge, when, looking up the river, she saw a boat coming out from the bank on the side she had left. She rubbed her eyes. A man rowing, and a white figure lying in the stern. Thank Heaven! It was like a miracle. Some one, no doubt, passing by on the other side, had caught a glimpse of the hapless girl. A few strokes brought them across, and the man was seen to take out the white figure, and carry it up the bank like a child. With this relief, the half guilty feeling that ,had oppressed her seemed to pass away, and the sense of old* wrongs to return. She remembered, then, that this

was a sort of habitual attack to which the girl was subject. Was it not a terrible judgment on that unworthy and unchristian triumph and exultation ? It was now the grey time of the evening: everything was inexpressibly calm. Calm herself now, after the long suspense, the doubt as to what she should do to learn news worked itself up at last to be almst unendurable. She wished at times to set forth up to the castle, and ask what the end was ; but an undefined terror, a shadow that took only an indistinct shape, seemed to be cast in her way. As she thought and thought, stray scraps of darkness seemed to gather and gather—recollections of what she -had said and done—and take more alarming and firmer shape. She thought she had best wait her father's return. An hour of agony went by. She heard carriage wheels, and rushed out on the top of the stairs. There came no accustomed stamping or but his voice low and tremulous. ' This is an awful thing to happen!' Then she knew that sentence of death had gone, and that her enemy of the old school days would trouble her and the world no more.

That coarse, selfish soul of the doctor's had received a real, overwhelming shock, and he sat there in his chair talking almost incoherently. 'Where are we? What does it mean? Oh, Jessica, I saw the poor, poor thing brought in, and laid down, and the—the blood pouring out. It was he— he did it. Oh, how c#uel!' 'He ! Who, who ?' said Jessica, frantically. ' Conway. She left us after dinner to made signals to his vessel. Her poor tender soul was wrapped up in him. The agitation was too much for her. She might have lain there nearly half an hour —and no one with her. Her foot caught in the grass, and her forehead all cutwith the fall. Heavens, what a life it is !' Lain there half an hour. Why did not Jessica say then how she had flown for aid, but a strange indecision sealed her lips. He could not understand ; and then full of grief and pity for the miserable girl, she felt she had done no wrong, and disdained to expose herself to the talk of the miserable gossips of the place, and to. the unscrupulous enmity of Dudley, when there was no necessity. Well, indeed, might Conway have named that fatal bridge the Bridge of Sighs. It seemed like Nemesis. The yacht, bending to the breeze as if in an impetuous gallop, sped on her course, her owner thinking wearily .of his new and splendid bondage, and little thinking that he was now free.

BOOK 11. CHAPTEE I. —OVEE THE (JEA.yE. The dismal event, it may be imagined, furnished some substantial grist for little mills supplied by the chiffonniers who went about St. Arthur's, picking up and sorting the old bones and rags of gossip. The poor of the place, always grumbling, for once owned that Providence had dealt impartially with the rich as well as themselves, and drew a better lesson to ;that effect than they had ever done from the teachings of the Eeverend Dr Bailey. That clergyman, as it was a vast occasion to which he wished to rise, put himself to the trouble of writing a mortuary sermon ' brand new,' for the occasion, in which he seemed to grow so juicy about the eyes, and scorbutic in his cheeks, that he looked an undertaker in a surplice. la that crowded church he addressed hostile and expostulatory questions to the great King of Terror and to the graves he digs, as if to his own maidservant, and dwelt sonorously on the station Laura would have adorned. Her noble and spreading lands, her ' pageantry of palaces'—where were they all now ? Her grieving father, who was present, utterly prostrated and broken with the shock, was too much absorbed in his mind to see anything that was exaggerated in the statement, that ' he'—Dr Bailey—■' knew her young heart, every"corner of it,' and that in the course of his professional, 'spiritual ministrations' his guidance of that v matchless young creature had made him as familiar with her mind as he was with his own. But what was he to say to those she had left behind ? Nothing, nothing, nothing! which, with a strange contradiction, reached 1o nearly a quarter of an hour'3 expatiation, pointed at the bereaved father.

The funeral was indeed magnificent, a. monument of grief and costliness, Messrs Hodman, the well known extrepreneurs of such shows in town, exerting themselves to their best. All the foolish ostentation, in which Death revels, when the rich are concerned, was nobly displayed. Mr Hodman, who attended in person, was heard to say, ' that he had not got to bed for two nights.' Sir Charles was indeed the class of mourner for whom it was worth while making an exertion. ' None of your peddling, " estimate" sort of fellers,' said Mr Hodman, ' who will call you into their front, parlor, and, with the poor remains lying cold upstairs, will.go on a 'aggling with you.' ......■ On this morning ; there was a surprise for the sailors of the port, who found that the Almandine, so long familiar to their eyes, had stolen back like some spectral

ship. The actors in the drama rubbed their eyes, as they looked from their windows and saw the apparition, and appeared to .find some, mysterious connection between that yacht and the young and glittering craft, all snowy sails and gay fluttering flags, which had glided away out on the vast ocean of eternity, and which would never return into that port. No such transcendental associations occured to the doctor, who merely said : God bless me! that boat back again! But quite proper. Nice good feeling and attention on the young man's part. Brought his yacht here, all the way, for the funeral!' Then the dismal ceremonial began. There was one figure that attracted the crowds that thronged the pews and' galleries of the church—a thin, worn, haggard, wild-eyed creature, whose strange and almost gastly air was rendered even more remarkable by his exaggerated black dress. Some of the young girls of the place, who had taken the deepest interest in the whole affair, turned away from him in terror—from eyes whose glances every "now and again seemed to dart from side to side, as if seeking something, to settle at last on a retired corner of the gallery, where they seemed to probe, and even stab, fiercely, until, at last, other faces were attracted, and looked in the same direction. There was seen a pale face, a figure bent low on its knees, and lips moving in prayer. At lunch and dinner that day, the association of gossips wondered and wondered again why Jessica Bailey had deserted her family, and sought that obscure cornor. A solution was soon hit upon by an elderly gentleman paying a visit.' 'lt was shocking,' he said, 'to see such vindictiveness even in presence of the dead. To think that Bailey's daughter would not be seen in her public place at the funeral of one who she disliked, but skulked away in a corner!' This was the charitable construction put on the matter, which those beside her, who saw her hand clasped conclusively, and her lips moving in prayer, might have found quite inconsistent. Her eyes followed the dark figures moving below, and the black drapped bier, whereon the poor lost heiress of Panton lay—and by what agency ? The long combat that had begun at school was ended there; and a voice, she could not be deaf to, was always in her ear, whispering hoarsely, not only that the victory was hers, but that she had won it by her own act. She saw the procession trail out to the graveyard, and could not bring, herself to rise up and follow it. Then the doctor went through his service ; and in a new vault the young creature of such hopes, and life, and brightness, was put to rest.

The doctor had done his part, in an extra impressive way, which he kept for persons of importance, consigning dust to its companion dust, on average occasions, with a vigorous and business like air. The sweet and almost tearful resignation he could assume on occasions of bereavement in high life, would have secured him an advantageous engagement in quite another profession. When all was over, and the crowd had dispersed, the doctor with ' the bereaved father' (as he persisted in styling him for many weeks to come) went into the church and was a long time walking round it, and looking at various portions of it. They were selecting a suitable spot for a most gorgeous marble monument, the finest * that the genius of Knollys, E.A., could devise. His having already thus decorated the remains of a royal personage was in itself a guarantee with the doctor for the artistic character of the performance. After all, we may not find fault with these post mortem tributes, which, with their inscriptions and flourishes, of image and panegyric, have been so often sneered at, for they at least soothe the torn and pierced hearts of those who have been left behind; wjio by planning, and erecting, and contemplating such things, divert what would have been an agonising inaction, until Time steps in, and soothingly brings resignation. / CHAPTEK II. —A MENACE. While they were thus engaged Jessica was hovering afar off, drawn by some strange attraction, to wait and see the end. She heard them fix on a spot, the doctor lecturing on its advantages ; the chief of which seemed to be that it could be seen from all parts of the church. 'We cannot do too much in this sad bereavement, and I am confident Mr Knollys will do his best.' When they were, at last, gone, and the baronet seemed now to be led away, an old broken man, on his friend's arm, she . stole into the church, up to the space that had been selected; through the window she could see the stone slab of the new vault, and.turned away herdiead. There would come a Sunday, shortly perhaps, when the memorial would face her, as she sat in her usual seat; the pure snowy marble canopy, sheltering the sleeping figure, whose hands would be joined on its breast; below there would be the inscription, age, date, wretched father, extravagant praise, best of children, beloved by all who knew her. Jessica had shrunk from that picture of the sleeping image, to be always before her as she prayed of a

Sunday; but that imaginary inscription came to her as a wholesome corrective, and made her cold and stern again. *lt was a judgment,' she said, as she turned away. * I have nothing to do with it. It does not lie with me !' Suddenly she found the worn face of Dudley was looking at her. ' Who said it lay with you ? With all your hated to her, that was never changed. Are you here to gloat over her grave ?'

She drew herself-up, and met his look of dislike. ' Over that grave I shall not dispute with you. You know what my nature is, and that it is not one likely to exult over the fallen. Further, I can teir you I was thinking, with bitter regret, over our old disputes, and that I might have judged her harshly.' ' Might have ! Is that your only amende? Take care you have not the same equity meted out to you ; that people may not accuse you, and at last let you off with a "might have judged harshly." You amaze me—accustomed as I am to strange things in this world—to think that you can have all this coolness and hardness Oh, the poor, poor girl!' he added with despair in his tones. ' Oh, what a mysterious end ! They take it all as a matter of course, and accept physician's twaddle. Yet I believe she was harassed and excited by those who had an interest in exciting her. Never fear, they shall all account for it—every one of them. If I were a Corsican I might take their way —don't be alarmed Miss Bailey. But I may tell you this —and you know yourself it is the truth—if we were to cast up all her troubles and annoyances, you would be found to be the one who fretted and harassed her most persistently.' She faltered. 'I am innocent; it was she who made my life wretched, and who harassed me.'

' That is false ; you must not say that, standing so near to where she lies. f I do not want to threaten you ; but there is a retribution for these things. It will overtake you—never fear. Nay, it has began its work already. What has drawn you here to-day but remorse ? I might swear thisftoo, there was more between you and her whan the world shall ever know.'

Jessica involuntarily started. ' Yes,' he went on, ' and I shall have something to live for, if only to search and hunt up all that concerns her. I go away now for a time. I must school myself in wild travels in wild places, to be alone with my miserable heart. If something comes to end all, it will be welcome ; if not, I shall return to see what atonement has been made. There is one outrage on her memory which must not be. Now, let there be no mistake. I give you this warning as from her. It would make her turn in her grave—rise from it! So, beware! You understand me. Should he or you dare, there will be a penalty exacted, to which the most refined torture you could dream of will be as nothing!' Jessica was so confounded at the strange tone with which this was spoken, so overwhelmed too with the events of the day, she could make no reply. A secret chill at her heart seemed to hint to her that something like retribution or punishment was to come on her, of which this man might be the agent. His love and grief were so intense, it was certain to give him an almost supernatural power, the very eagerness and concentration of his purpose on this one point giving him an irresistible strength. No wonder she shrank from that spectral figure, which seemed to glide away among the church pillars as if into thiuf air. No wonder that from that fatal day a sort of cloud seemed to settle down upon her —a sense of some coming blow to be expected sooner or later. With this presentment to attend her, she turned towards her home. Home, indeed ! She longed even for the world. She could not shut out those fierce, ever menacing, and avenging eyes, and all she could do was to repeat to herself, ' I am innocent as regards her. I can ask my conscience again and again, and it tells me I have done nothing.' Though she.Jhad made an almost ascetic resolve that such a day of humiliation should not be profaned by thought of anything selfish, anything that was near or dear to her, she could not shut out a speculation, which, turn away her eyes as she would, made her heart flutter. Conway ! What would he do, now bis own strange presentiment had been fulfilled, that something would interpose between him and that engagement, that their hearts were to come together again ? She almost flung the idea from her with a sort of shame; but still it came back to her. What would Conway do now ? Would not that sudden and ghastly end turn all his sympathies to what he had lost, and perhaps make him shrink from one who was to profit so speedily by the ruin of another? She felt if he was to come before her at that moment, she could not look at him with unshrinking eyes, which he would think were asking him, was he ready now to fulfil his bond ? This idea seemed to devour her. Her impulse was to write him, and say he must not, for the world, even so much as dream of the plan they had settled ; it must be buried with what had been buried that day,

Then she thought, and rightly, that this seemed like a reminder. It was to be resolved for her in a moment. She was at her window, her eyes fixed on the far off yacht. Suddenly she saw its faint lines quivering and shaking ; the little flakes of snowy white began to grow and spread like wings, then flutter in the breeze:* He was going, leaving, and without a word. Thank God for it! It was for the best, the proper and right course. Yet now, indeed, the cruel sense of blank desertion came upon her, for it was evident that he, indeed, took that view, and thought that so ghastly a catastrophe altered all arrangements between them. It was harsh, almost cruel, to her.

But he had thought of her, for here was a letter from him.

I would have asked to.see you to-day, but your own tender heart will help you to the reason. On such a day as this I cannot bear to think of anything but what concerns the dead, and her terribly mysterious end. There is a guilty feeling at my heart that I had something to do with it, so strangely have my idle words come to pass. Still, as I am going away now, I must speak plainly. With time all this will have passed away and we can look back, not to these last few wretched days, but to what was so solemnly engaged between us. That no sensitiveness on your side can dissolve, and that I shall call on you to fulfil. I now go to face debts, dangers, and difficulties, to find some extrication, if there be any. Not before a year shall you hear of me. Bear your present trials for that short space of time, at least, and then we shall both be able to approach the matter calmly and logically. We have neither of us deserved any blame. During that time think of me.

'Never,' thought Jessica. 'Life is all over for me ; that poor girl has vanquished me after all. No, I dare not; her image would always be between us, and that dreadful last scene.' Far better that she alone should see it. Did he know of it, he must always insensibly associate her with the grimness of that terrible end. Gradually he would learn how their last words had been words of anger and de» fiance. She preferred that he should always think of her as she was, than run any risk of his being changed to her. It would be for the best to end it all at once. Yet when she came to write she wanted heart. Tlie old question recurred, what had she done, why should she offer her whole life and happiness as an expiatory offering to one who would have spared her nothing ? He was gone, and she might put off the letter until to-morrow. Then another day went by, and another. In fact she had not heart to take such a step. She could wait. Then began a weary time tor her, one of suspense and anxiety. Gradually the gossips came to have done with this all but inexhaustible subject, having discounted it in every conceivable way. The place was shut up, Sir Charles was gone away, never to return, and it was known that the handsome castle would soon be offered for sale. A stone cross had been put up on the spot where the heiress had met her death, whither many a walk was taken on Sunday evenings, and where, to inquiring little children, the story was told in all mystery. Weeks, months, passed by, and she heard nothing of Conway. Facts and rumors came down of what was doing as respects the estate, the breaking up of the establishment, the great sale, the proceedings in Chancery, in fact, all the usual incidents of clearing decks, throwing overboard, cutting away masts, which attend such wrecks, and which often will not save the ship. It was certain, however, that the most vigorous and resolute measures were being taken, and there was evidence of some decided and thorough spirit being at work. (To he continued.)