"SWEET REVENGE."

Otago Witness, Issue 682, 24 December 1864, Page 19

"SWEET REVENGE."

[From the "Sixpenny Magazine." The cause of Davenant versus Maskeyne, falsely ■ called Davenant, was finally decided in t rinity Term, 1783. The litigation, which had drageed : i ts slow length along through some seven or eight years, was utterly ruinous to the plaintiff, Major Lionel Davenant, who had sought to upset the will of one Roger Davenant, a wealthy relative, - which barred his, Lionel Davenimt's, claim as heir-at-law to estates of larse value, devised by that will to Cuthbert Davenant, otherwise Cuthbert Maskeyne, a natural son of the testator by Margaret Maskeyne, who, for • many years, and till her death, had lived with Roger Davenant as his lawful wife, though holy • church had never blessed their union. The creditors of Major Davenant, a reckless • gambler, and in other respects not very estimable : gentleman, it would appear, no longer held at bay • by the hope that their debtor would succeed in - obtaining possession of the litigated estates, ma le a clean weep of the defeated plaintiff's personals, and nothing was left the exasperated soldier but ! his commission, the walls of Elm Lodge, near Diss, Norfolk, and the acres thereto attached, ; which,/?, fa.'s could not touch. As, however, : house and land were mortgaged ti their full value, the exemption was of no practical advantage to : the nominal owner, who, apprehensive of a ne- ■ exeat, applied for active employment, obtainei it, • sailed for America, and was gallantly snuffed out ■ at the battle of Saratoga. The major had one son, an only child. Michael Davenant, a youth of promise, educated at Cambridge. He had never suspected that his father could be other than a sufficiently rich man, even supposing the long litigated suit should be decided against him. When the crash came, it was •consequently the more keenly felt, the more overwhelming, especially as it awoke Michael Davenant from a blissful vision, which comes but once, however protracted may be the long dream of life. Julia St. John, the youngest daughter of the Reverend Valentine St. John, and lie, had been betrothed lovers before judgment was pronounced in Davenant versus Maskeyne. Michael Davenant was devoted to the maiden ■with all his heart, soul, and strength. Julia St. John less fervidly, as I gather, reciprocated her lover's attachment. But the Rev. St. John's income was a very moderate one. So emphatically so, that but^for the intelligent housewifery - of Mrs St. John, he would have found it im'possible — difficult it had always been — to make ends meet. In such a state of things there could not be two opinions as to the imperious necessity of at once annulling the engagement. The lover acquiesced with a broken heart, which, however, brokenly lived on. Upon the eve of his hasty departure from England, Major Davenant despatched a note to his - son, enclosing a remittance, with a promise to send a larger one as soon as possible. Elm Lod,'e having been stripped to the bare walls, and all the servants Qischarged, the son took lodgings at Mr Burton's, one of the tenants on the estate, and there, month after month, till indeed long 1 after Ms fathers lips were closed, his hand stiffened by death, waited impatiently for the promised draft. la its stead he received a curt announcement from the Horse Guards of his father's death, when gallantly leading his regiment at the " victory " of Saratoga. Shortly afterwards the gloom of that intelligence was deepened by a lett* from the deceased's London agents, in reply to Michael Davenant, informing him that at the" time of the major's death his account with them was slightly overdrawn. The situation to a young man so nurtured, so entirely unfitted to do battle with the world for an existence, was no doubt a terrible one. He had not five guineas left, and when in his extremity, wistfully turning his mental gaze to the quarter where he knew wealth to mend his broken fortunes, to give him unencumbered possessed bf the Elms, was to be had for the asking, an obstacle of his own creation, which it would be cruel, inhuman to thrust aside, rose up before him, and for a time shut out that view. Farmer Burton had three children, two sons -and a daughter-, all, as they grew up, remarked for a certain dogged inflexibility of character, inherited, it was said, from their mother. At the age of twelve, the daughter Lucy, a comely though somewhat masculine girl, Lady Poynton. a childless relic of Sir Piers Poynton, residing in the neighborhood, had taken a fancy to. Lucy was accordingly sent to Stone Hall, and remained ■ there six years as a personal attendant upon, and humble companion to her patroness, by whom she was educated up to a point which enabled her to act as her ladyship's amanuensis, read to her with ' intelligence, and play tolerably upon the harpsichord. Lucy Burton had just turned eighteen when, by the death of Lady Poynton, she was returned upon her father's hands utterly spoiled for a farmer's helpmate, and really fitted for no •higher vocation. The congenital germ of personal vanity of which my belief is no girl however unlovely, is quite deficient, was, I need ' hardly say, immensely developed by the position she held, and the "accomplishments" she ac- ■ quired at Stone Hall. That vanity would prompt her to attach afar more serious significance than thay deserved to the compliments and attentions of Michael Davenant, and there is no doubt that with or without just grounds for so believing she firmly believed he would marry her as soon as • the major should set him forward in some sufficiently promising path of life. One topic frequently discussed between them would tend to strengthen that conviction or confidence on her part, by showing that the match would not, ■ under the circumstances, be an ineligible one for him. Michael Davenant imagined that although ' his father was reduced to comparative indigence, he, knowing hw warmly attached his son was to country life and country sports, would let him, Michael Davenant, one of the farms, which he certainly had the power to do, and manage by some means to furnish him with sufficient capital to start, in very humble life no doubt for the heir to the Elms Estate, with a fair chance of moderate success. Lucy, though loathing the drudgery of farm-house work, would deem herself quite equal to, and not above the duties of a gentleman farmer's wife. Itis noteworthy also tlmt Michael Davennnt studiously concealed from the Burtons, that by the major's death he was reduced to absolute destitution. On the contrary, he was constantly speaking of his intention to pay avisit to London, in order to arrive at, as he trusted, a satisfactory settlement of his father's aflhirs. Week after week went by, however, without finding that intention fulfilled. And quite a* carefully did he conceal his increasingly frequent visite at a .H 0 " 36 , in Bellevue Terrace, Diss, where resided Mr Curteis, a' retired merchant-trades-•man, of ample means, with a favorite grand-

daughter, Selina Curteis, a young lady whose attractions were limited to grandpapa's moneybags, to which she was known to be sole heiress. Michael Davenant, a handsome, pleasant-man-nered young man, and who though fallen, in a pecuniary point of view, from kis high estate, had not lost caste as one of the country gentry, though for a time under a cloud, found favour with a [damsel practically possessed of abundance of money, and devoured by ambition to marry into the ranks of the local minor aristocracy ; one of the upper ten thousand being- hopelessly beyond reacb. Her father could and would pay off the encumbrances upon the Elms estate, refurnish in befitting style that fine old family mansion, and Mrs Selina Davenant would at once take rank witii the landed gentry. Young Davenant knew perfectly well that the wealth and felicity to be obtained by marriage with Selina Curteis might be his for the asking, and so entirely cast down in spirit was he by adverse fortune, that though the woman was repulsive to him, he would have proposed for the hand of the heiress immediately after receiving the letter from his father's London agents, but for his liaison with Lucy Burton. He does not appear to have felt much affection for the fanner's goodlooking daughter. At all events, whatever transient liking he might once have entertained for her had completely passed away. It was remorse, compassion perhaps, above all a vague dread of consequences, knowing as he did the inflexible resolution of the girl, her passionate, fierce love of himself, her sensitiveness to shame, that made him pause and delay his fixed purpose, and he continued to weakly dally with time till the old justicer, as is his wont, took the decision into his 'own hands.

Some hint of Davenant's intimacy with the Curteis family had reached Lucy Burton, and she sharply questioned the young man as to the truth of the report. A violent quarrel ensued, which was partially overheard by a servant girl. Michael Davenant at last flung away out of the room and the house in a rage. The time was mid-winter, the weather piercingly cold, and when he returned late in the evening snow was falling heavily. During his absence he had formally proposed to, and been accepted by, Selina Curteis, with the entire approbation of grandpapa.

Davenant lifted the latch and entered without kuoekiug. To him, conscience stricken, a startling scene presented itself. Lucy Burton, her father, and both brothers, were standing apart from each other, all exhibiting unmistak'eable signs ot angry emotion. A terrible discovery had been made— that Lucy would soon be a mother ! The unfortunate girl who had already suffered violence at her father's hands, which would have been much greater but for the brothers' resoiute interposition, passionately appealed to Davenant to acknowledge her as his true wife already in the eye of God, and soon to be in fulfilment of his solemn promise of that ol man. Davenant, first expressing regret for what had happened, and saying 1 something about being willing to make every amends in his power, flatly denied that he had ever promised Lucy marriage. A tempest of reproaches, entreaties, and curses ensued, from which Michael Davenant fled to the shelter of a tavern, where he slept. At about twelve o'clock on that same night, as nearly as could be ascertained, Lucy Burton noiselessly left her father's house, braving the bitter night, the blinding snow-storm, so that she might reach in time the dwelling of her aunt Boyce, a widow, with whom she was a great favourite, situate about ten miles off. The younger brother, William Barton, had occasion to rise as early as four in the morning. About to pas 3 the door of Lucy's bedchamber, he bethought him to look in, saw that she was not there— had not gone to bed at all. Immediately calling up his brother, and deputing to him the duties he had himself risen to perform, William Burton set forth in quest of the fugitive, who would not, he feared, in her ailing, weakened state, be able to live through the terrible night. He guessed whither she was gone, and the way she would take; footsteps here and there, which the falling snow had not obliterated, helped to guide him aright; and, after about two hours' anxious pursuit, he traced the wanderer to an open cowshed, where, lying upon some straw, and almost insensible, he found his sister— a dead infant lying by her side, in one hand a pair of bright scissors, in the other a quantity of light hair, cut off the infant's head.

Lucy was carried by her brother to the farmhouse contiguous to the shed. Kindly people whom he knew, dwelt there, and Lucy was sedulously cared for. Her condition was critical, but she recovered after a few weeks' suffering and took up her abode with the aunt. Nothing could ever induce her to return to her father's house nor to see him, or revisit what may be called the scene of her shame. The hair she had cut from the infant's head seemed to her a precious treasure. It was placed in a locket, constantly worn about her neck. To this circumstance it is chiefly owing that suspicion still rests upon Lucy Burton as the perpetrator of the undiscovered crimp which forms the subject of this paper. An inquest was of course held. It was the evidence of the Burtons, given before that tribunal, which disclosed the main facts already relate*}. There was no mark of violence found upon the infant : a surgeon positively deposed that it had been born alive, and felt no doubt that its feeble life had been destroyed by the intense cold to which it was exposed. Verdict accordingly. Michael Davenant did not incur very serious censure. Young men would be young men— and so on. It was not, unfortunately for Michael Davenant with society that he woul I have to finally reckon for his misdeeds.

Great preparations were made for the wedding of Mr M. Davenant with Miss Selina Curteis; the Lodge was splendidly furnished; new servants were engaged, new liveries purchased; and the mortgagees had notice that their claims on the estate would be paid off on a particular day, about a fortnight subsequent to that fixed for the marriage. The pill was a bitter one, but being so thickly gilt, Davenant might gulp it down without danger of choking. Terribly at odds with himself was Mr Davenant amidst the din and whirl of those dreadful notes of preparation-divided, buffetted between Ins love of wealth and his passion for Julia Saint John, who, now that he was about to lose her for ever, seemed each day to develope a more radiant loveliness, more bewitching grace, seductive fascination ! Still, the choice between beauty and booty, since both were unattainable, could not be really doubtful for a man without a sixpence or the means of earning one. The day previous to the happy one had arrived. Ine carefully drawn settlements, approved by eminent counsel, were to be signed, and sealed in a few hours, when there arrived at Elm Lodge

MrFarebrother of London, solicitor for the plaintiffin the locally famous cause of Davenant vtrsus Maskeyne. His errand' was to inform the «on of Ins old, much-respected client that Cuthbert Maskeyne had died unmarried, after a short illness, only a few days previously, and by his will executed during that illness, had, " as an act of common justice," bequeathed the estates that had been so fiercely litigated, together with all personals, to Michael Davenant. Here was a turn of the wheel with a vengeance!— at once bringing into view the radiant image of Julia Saint John flittering upon the horizon of a near, and golden future ! . No doubt at all that Michael Davenant was bound in honour to carry out his marital contract with Selina Curteis, notwithstanding that the wealth for whioh alone he had wooed— and for which alone she knew he had wooed her for a wife - had become mere dross in his eyes. But we are all mortal, and it is probable very many others similarly circumstanced would have done as Michael Davenant did— videlicet, despatch a note to No. -7, Bellevue Terrace, apprising Mr Curseis that, upon mature reflection, the writer had come to the conclusion that the proposed union would not conduce to the happiness either of the amiable Miss Curteis or himself. - He Michael Davrnant, therefore, begged, with infinite regret, to state that the engagement must be considered as cancelled. That note sent off Michael Davenant felt something like a man would that had just fired a train, and wished to be a 9 far off as possible when the mine exploded, and bolted with the lawyer by post-chaise to London.

The consternation, the ferocious bewilderment of 7, Bellevue Terrace, may be imagined. After the social hurricane had exhaustingly stormed itself into comparative quietude, and when it had been ascertained that Michael Davenant had left for London, where letters should be there addressed to him, the poor old grandfather was compelled to book himself by that night's mail for the inefropolis, and carry with him peremptory instructions to bring back the wicked truant whom Miss Selina Curteis would have it, had taken offence— and no wonder— at the restricted parsimonious " provision made for him by the settlements. Grandpapa was ordered to «ive Mr Mr Michael Davenant carte blanche. Carte blanche, except that upon the unblotted surface the name of Julia Saint John could be written, would avail nothing with Michael Davenant. This one brief, angry interview sufficed to make quite plain to the chagrined, indignant old man, who forthwith returned to Diss. Those long journeys, in cold bitter March weather, broke down his long-since failing health. He died of what is now called bronchitis ' within a week of his return home.

He could not have been sensible of his danger. At all events, mind, memory could not have been so healthily active as before, or his cherished favorite, Selina— there is no accounting for such caprices -would not have found herself, a few days after the funeral, in a state of positive indigence compared with her great expectations. Mr Ambrose Curteis had made a will, by which he devised to Selina Curteis all he possessed, or might be possessed of, chargeable only with gifts to servants, and an annuity of one hundred pounds, to be paid quarterly, of one hundred pounds to Ralph Middleton, of Southamptonbuildings, Holborn, London, whose ancestor, whether in a direct line or not is not stated was Sir Hugh Middleton, of New River memory. The ante-nuptial settlements, made in contemplation of the marriage of Selina Curteis with Michael Davenant would have had the effect of setting aside, or more correctly, of superseding that will : and Mr Ambrose Curteis tore up and burned the, as he believed, valueless document. The marriage, as we know, did not take place— the care-iully-drawn settlements were in legal effect nil— and Mr Ambrose Curteis died intestate. There were very many claimants to the large property of the deceased— the wholeofits personals: and the issue was that Selina Curteis found herself entitled to about eight, instead of about one hundred thousand pounds. This mishap, being clearly attributable to Michael Davenant's perfidy ? one cannot wonder that it, conjoined with the inexpiable affront offered her as a woman, engendered in the breast of the deserted, impoverished damsel, a passion of deadliest hatred towards the exulting, gay deceiver. The gentlest, most placable or human kind would have deeply resented such outrage, such injury. In the case of Selina Curteis, the evil seed fell upon congenial tenacious soil, and brought forth terrible fruit after ite kind. " Michael Davenant, Esquire, of Elm- Lodge," records the Norfolk Nero*, " was married on Thursday, the sth of May, 1785, to Julia, youngest daughter of the Reverend Valentine Saint John." Very nearly a year afterwards, April 28th, 1786, states the same authority, Mrs Davenant presented her husband with a son. The confinement well-nigh proved fatal to the mother, who bore no more children. The married life of Michael Davenant, illuminated by love of his wife and cliildj appears to have been a remarkably happy one— a brief happiness. Less than a quarter of a mile from Elm Lodge, and built upon an elevated 'sort of plateau, stood White House, so called, for many years inhabited by Thomas Withers, a bachelor, and a naturalist of much local celebrity. White House overlooked the private grounds of Elm Lodge, and for that reason had been a constant source of annoyance to the Davenant family. When, therefore, Withers died about three years subsequent to Michael Davenant's marriage, that gentleman wrote to the lawyer who advertised the sale of the property, offering to pay any reasonable sum for the same. Quick as he was, the application was too late. White House was already sold to Miss Sdma Curies, and Miss Selina Curteis soon afterwards took possession, accompanied by her friend and companion, rather than servant, Lucy Burton.

To live under the surveillance, as it were, of two persons whom he had grossly wronged, could not but annoy and irritate Mr Davenant, and a vague feeling of disquietude fastened upon his mind, as he noticed that the two women, whenever he with his wife and child walked in the gardens, seated i hem3elves at a convenient spot, and appeared sedulously to watch them. This feeling so grew upon him, that, without assigning* the true motive, he persuaded his wife, who was much attached to Elm Lodge— one reason, no doubt, being its nearness to Diss, where her family resided—to remove with their establishment to Clare Priory, a noble residence which had come to him with Roger Davenant's estates, and distant about thirty miles from Diss. Orders were given to place Clare Priory in a fit state for the reception of the family, and preparations for early, departure from Elm Lodge were at once commenced. They were interrupted by the sudden and

and alarming illness of the little Lionel, always till then a remarkably healthy child. The medical gentleman summoned in hot haste unhesitatingly declared that the child had taken poison, vegetable pojson, though of what precise nature they could not decide. Upon questionhietne nursery-maid, it was ascertained that when out for a walk with her charge that afternoon, a gipsy woman had accosted them, offering to tell the young woman's fortune. The offer declined she, first presenting the boy with t\vo or three large cherries, which he immediately ate, hastily disappeared. In less than ten minutes afterwards the child was taken ill. Tigorous search for the gipsy woman was immediately set on foot, but no trace of her could be discovered. No one had seen her except the nurse-maid and child. The little Lionel's life was in great peril for many day* ' The shadow of death when it approaches the cradle of an only child falls with chilling effect upon a mother's heart, and it was feared, that should he die, the blow would prove fatal to Mrs Davenant, who had been in delicate health from the time of-h'is birth. He recovered but before it could be said that he was completely out of danger, the mother, worn with ceaseless watching and anxiety, was thrown upon a sick bed. Her life was in little danger, the physician assured Mr Davenant, provided she was kept very quiet, and that the permanent convalescence of her son effectually dispelled the terror to which, in her weak state,, she had nearly succumbed. ■*

Mr Davenant's grief for his wife's illness was rendered more poignant, forasmuch that it delayed the departure of the family for Clare Priory. He had, and for good reason, become nervously impatient to be gone. One day, and whilst his son's life still trembled in the balance the nursery-maid, who seemed much excited* asked to speak with him in private. She declared! that having accidentally, and for the fcrst time met the White House ladies, she was almost sure' though her hair was brown, not black, and her complexion fan- instead of dark, that one of them was the pretended gipsy that had given the cherries to the child. She knew they were the White House people from a laboring man who saw them. pass by. The girl could give no decisive reason, for her ( strongly expressed belief; could not say there was any peculiar mark in the woman's face by which she recognised her ; but was not for that the less positive, that the youngest and tallest of the two ladies was the person who, disguised as a gipsy, bad given the poisoned cherries to the child. Mr DaveDant was greatly startled, shocked, notwithstanding that his own suspicions had pointed in that direction. Mr Brookes an attorney, was sent 'for, aad advised with as' to whether any legal steps based upon the girl's statement ought to be taken. The lawyer thought not. In the first place, there was no legal evidence that the child had been poisoned by the cherries, and were it otherwise, the nurse-maid's uncorroborated belief would not justify Mr Davenant in charging Miss Curteis or Lucy Burton with a capital crime. It was resolved consequently not to move in the matter. The nurserymaid, Susan Cole's, glib tongue could not be silenced, and her bold accusation was known to hundreds of persons before many hours had gone by. This fact is an important one. Strict orders were given that, on no account or pretence, the child should be taken for a moment Deyond the walls of Elm Lodge and *the enclosed gardens, and nothing- happened for about three weeks; by which time little Lionel was perfectly restored to health, and his mother had so far recovered that she could sit up, though still too weak to leave her chamber. She was still suffering under extreme nervous irritation— haunted by vague fears for the safety of her child— and although one of her .sisters, or her mother, was always with her, she could not endure that Mr Davenant should he one minute absent from the house. The fond husband humored his wife's nervous whims to the letter. One day, however, business of great importance required his presence at Diss : he should not be detained there more than two hours at most; three houra consequently would be the duration of his absence from home. And in order to account for absenting himself from the invalid for so unusually long a time he told Mrs Davenant that he should be busy the whole morning in the library, arranging and classifying a multitude of business papers that had been too long neglected. At about noon, Mr Davenant started, on. horseback, for Diss. Mrs Saint John was with her daughter, who seemed to be calmer, much more composed, than she had been of late. The physician called as usual, and pronounced her to be decidedly better. At one, or soon after, she sent for her son, conversed longer than usual; then directed Susan Coles to take the child, the day being fine and warm, into the' gardens ; but be sure ,to keep as much as possible in the shade. Soon afterwards Mrs Davenant dropped asleep, slumbering tranquilly watched by her mother for nearly two houre. Suddenly her sleep seemed tq be disturbed— her bosom heaved— her arms were tossed wildly about —she littered, strange, inarticulate sounds, and Mrs Saint John was about to forcibly awake her when she herself violently broke, as it were, the chains of sleep, and raised herself with a start half up upon the sofa. " A dream ! a dream!" she exclaimed directly she could realise being awake. * ( Thank God— a dream! Where is Davenant ? Ring the bell, dear mamma ! He is at home, of course : Lionel with him. To be sure ; there can be no doubtof it. Ring again, mamma; how slow they are!'' " Tell Mr Davenant," said she, speaking quick and sharp to the footman who answered the belL " tell Mr Davenant— he is in the library-to come here immediately." The man hesitated, looked confused, then blurted out that his master was not yet returned from Diss.

From Diss ! Gone to Diss !" screame 1 Mrs Davenant, in wild excitement. > " Where, then. is my son ? Where is- Coles ? Find them s send them to me this instant • Mother," she added, turning suddenly upon Mrs Saint John - grasping that lady by the shoulder to support hersejTit seemed, for she shook in every limb— "mother, the dream is true ! My boy is murdered-r-nvurv dered m the garden!" She then sank down fainting, gasping for breath, upon thesofe. ■ The opening of the door and entrance ofthff housekeeper roused Mrs Davenant, and rallied her sinking faculties. ' * ? My ■2 n »" st « exclaimed. "Lionel: where is he '—where is' Coles?"

The housekeeper, who was herself painfully agitated, said that, about two hours previously, Susan Coles had taken the child into the gardens' where, no doubt, they still were, as no one, it appeared, had seen them re-enter the house. Servants had been despatched in search. "He is murdered ! My boy, my beautiful is murdered !" screamed the frenzied lady. " I teiil

pass !" she added, pushing aside Mrs Saint John, who strove to detain her. and darting out of the room. "My child has been murdered — lies dead in the garden !" A terrible truth, whether revealed or not to the mother in a dream, with respect to which it is not necessary to offer an opinion. Stark upon the ground, in a carefully kept trellised arbour, at the further end of the extensive grounds, nnd near which was a gate, supposed to be always locked, lay the bodies of the child, Lionel Davenant, and Susan Coles. Medical authority decided that they must have been dead at least an hour before the frightful discovery was made. * Coles appeared to have made a perhaps brief, but determined resistance. The instrument of death was a sharp-pointed, horn-handled knife, found upon one of the seats, where no doubt it was purposely left. Round the handle was wound a piece of writing paper, upon which was inscribed, in pen-printed characters, "An eye ior an eye, a tooth lor a tooth." Near the girl's feet was found a locket, enclosed in which was a small quantity of light-coloured baby-hair. The black ribbon by which it had been "fastened round the wearer's neck, was broken, probably in the struggle between the assassin and Susan Coles. On his return from Dis<, Michael Davenant found his murdered boy lying clasped in the unyielding embrace of his dead wife. The mother and son were, it is stated, placed together in that position iv one coffin. The dire tragedy excited the wildest commotion in Norfolk. Selina Curteis and Lucy Burton were immediately arrested and lodged in prison, spite of their energetic protestations of innocence. " This is your locket, I think, Lucy Bui-ton.' sail Hr Brooke3, the attorney, who accompanied the constables to White House. " Certftinly it is," was the prompt reply. " I lost it three months ago, or more. Where did you find it?" The attorney did not answer, and admitted afterwards that the cool promptitude of the woman surprised and staggered him. The gate in the arbour was found to be locked ; but the key could nowhere be found. It was, after a time, elicited that the servants were in the habit of passing out that way, by which they considerably shortened the distance to Diss, leaving the key in the lock inside the gate, and upon their return locking the gate and taking the key into the house. A groom, it was proved, had left by the gate two hours before the murder was probably committed, and had not returned when the dreadful discovery was made. The assassin had consequently found easy access to the gardens and arbour. Three servants were kept at White House, one a gardener and man of-all-work, a housemaid, and woman cook; honest simple creatures all three. The arrest of their mistress and Lucy Burton greatly angered them. They would have it that both were innocent of the awful crime imputed to them as an unborn child. They even swore that, at the time the murder must have been committed, that is, from one to three o'clock in the day, Miss Curteis and Lucy Burton were in the former's bed-room. When, however, that assertion was sifted, it turned out that they believed so, because it was the constant habit of the two women to be there during that period of the day, 3ud they, the servants, had neither seen either go out, nor in any other part of the house. No black woman's wig was found at White : House; but in Miss Curteis's bedchamber was ' discovered a mixture for browning the complexion. S&rah Mills, the housemaid, made a ; statement at the first examination before the ma ] gistrates, which told heavily in the general opinion against Lucy Burton. She had seen the ' locket produced, suspended by a blaGk ribbon, ' round Miss Burton's neck, less than one month : before the murder; and neither she nor either of 1 the other servants had ever heard Miss Burton ] complain or speak of its lo?3 Upon a subsequent ' occasion Mills retracted the assertion that she had 1 seen the locket in Lucy Burton's possession s o i late as a month before her apprehension. It ' might have been two, three, four months "pre- 1 viously when she last saw it. Her memory as t > j lapse of time was a bad, unreliable one. She did not, however, pretend to remember that Miss ; Burton had spoken of the loss of the locket. It : was known that the servants were kindly treated by Miss Gurteis and her companiou, who had more control at the White House than the real mistress, and for that reason the housemaid's contradiction of her former evidence went for little. Ultimately, Lucy Burton was committed to the next March assize to be holden at Norwich— it was full six months till then— and Selina Curteis as an accessory after the fact. The latter's application to be admitted to bail was refused, not only by the committing magistrates, but by Mr Justice Grose, before whom she was taken by writ of habeas corpus. This rather surprises one; for certainly the strictly legal evidence against her was of the slenderest kind. Selina Curteis and Lucy Burton had not been many weaka in Norwich gaol, when a rumour gradually spread indicating that one John Lee— commonly called Hump Lee, from a protuberance growing out of the back of his left shoulder -was the assassin of Lionel Davenant and Susan Coles, and that he had perpetrated the deed to be revenged for the death of his own son. Leepeople argued who inclined to the new view of the matter- -Lee, if not a gipsy by his habits and pursuits, was unquestionably one by lineage and blood, and was moreover known to be on terms of intimacy with many professional gipsies. Such a man could easily enough have auborned a gipsy woman to give Mr Davenant s child the poisoned cherries, whilst the motive which might have impelled him to commit the hellish crime was patent to all, and the only wonder was how it happened fiat suspicion had not from the first pointed to Hump Lee. The presumptive case made out against Lee seemed a sfrong one. He was ft fellow of fleice passions, known to have savagely avenged but slight injuries many years after they had been committed ; and only about eighteen months previous to the murder, Mr Davenant had been the cause, the entirely blameless cause, of the death of his, Lee's, only child, a cripple, about nine years' of age. The circumstances were these : Mr .udveaant was out in a buggy, as a peculiarlylmilt gig was called in those days, driving himself. As he was passing, at a swift pace along a narrow lane, the end of another narrow lane, a horse, upon which was Lee's son, galloping at furious speed, ran full butt against the body of the buggy. The collision was so violent that the vehicle was nearly overturned; the horse w.s Killi'd on the spot, and the lad Lee, hurled with ctuauing violence upon the hard ground,

died of the injuries he received, a very fenhours afterwards. Not the faintest blame rested upon Mr Davenant, yet many times since the accident, Hump Lee — who was a market-gardener, in tolerably easy circumstances —had been heard when drunk, as he often was, to speak iv ferocious terms of that gentleman, and vow that he would one day be revenged for the death of his boy. The phrase "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," pen printed on the piece of paper, was held by many persons to be strong corroborative proof that he was the criminal. And as to the locket, might not he have found it, and knowing the inimical relations which subsisted between the ladies of White House and Mr Davsnant, have dropt it in the arbor in order to divert suspicion from himself to them ? Public clamor waxed before long so fierce against Lee, that he was arrested on the charge of wilful murder, and taken before the county magistrates sitting in petty session. There he contrived to immensely strengthen the case against him by setting up an alibi which completely broke down. One of the fellows whom his wife, it was thought, had bribed to swear her husband through it, was committed for perjury, and Lee himself, by the decision of a majority of the magistrates, sent tor trial on the capital charge. The ablest counsel on the circuit had been engaged for the White House ladies, and luckily for Lucy Burton her trial came on first. The defence suggested was, of course, that Lee, not the prisoner under trial, was the guilty party. It prevailed. The judge summed up in her favor, and the jury, though not till after prolonged hesitation, returned a verdict of Not Guilty. After that, the arraignment of Selina Curteis, as an accessory after the tact, was a mere matter of j form. The following day, Lee was placed at the bar. He, too, was defended by able counsel, and so early and completely under their management did tue case against him break down, that the judge, with the full concurrence of the jury, stopped the trial, a verdict of acquittal was recorded, and his lordship expressed, in sharp term?, his opinion that the accused ought not to have been put upon his trial. Selina Curteis and Lucy Burton died at White House within a few months of each other, whilst both were still young women. They were often seen sitting by each other on the spot where Davenant had observed them intently watching him, his wife, and child. The scene of the murder appeared to possess an irresistible fascination for them both. For hours together they would, sit like statues, gazing fn stony silence, people said, in that oue direction. Lucy Burton, who survived Miss Curtei?, continued to do so alone, and died, accordmg to one report, in her chair, whilst so gazing. Public opinion continued to the last much divided as to the guilt or innocence of the women at .White House. Both of them embraced the Romish faith very soon after their acquittal at Norwich, and that constant gazing upon the scene of the murder was supposed, by persons who judged them unfavorably, to be nnexpiatory penance imposed upon them. It was known also that Miss Curteis paid large sums for masses to be said for the repose of the souls of Mrs Davenant, her son, and Susan Coles. That, however, could hardly be twisted into a proof of guilt. One circumstance was thought to weigh leavily naainst them. Lucy Burton's brothers, | by whom she had been much beloved, and who had been with her at White House the very day previous to the murder, would never see her never speak to or of her afterwards. Had they perchance— peo le ,-wked themselves, when balancing the proa and eons of the sad story— liad they perchance seeu the locket in their sister's possession at that last interview ? Michael Davenant shut up Elms Lodsre, and went abioad soon aftei the trials at Norwich. It was rema ked that he did not employ counsel against Lucy Burton or Selina Curteis, but did to prosecute Lee ; and that lie had always appeared anxious to fix him with the crime. Tiiat wish, as it were, to believe in Lee's suilt might have been prompted by a restless anxiety to chase from his mind the torturing thought that if the women were the assassins, it was he himself who kindled in their hearts the fires of hate and vengeance. He, too, died young, in his twenty-seventh year, at Berlin— the last of the Norfolk Davenauts.