CHAPTER XV.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 157, 5 June 1886, Page 3

CHAPTER XV.

A GOSSIP. - This something settled matter in his heart, Whereon his brain'a still beating, puts him thus From fashion of himsoif . — Hamlet. I had not taken this tone with both my correspondents without a secret hope of being able to do something myself towards the establishment of Mr Pollard's innocence. How, I could not very plainly perceive that day or the next, but as time elapsed and my brain cleared and my Judgement returned, I, at last saw the way to an effort which might not be without consequences of a satisfactory nature. ► What that effort was you may perhaps conjecture from the fact that the first walk, that I took was in the direction of ■ the .cottage where Mr Barrows had formerly 1 lived. The" rooms which he had .occupied were for rent, and my' ostensible errand was to hire them.

The real motive* of my. visit, however, was to r learn something more of the deceased clergyman's life and ways than I then knew if happily but of some hitherto unnoticed event in his late history I might receive a hint which ibhould ultimately lead me to the solution % of the mystery which was involving my happiness. I was not as unsuccessful as one might anticipate. The lady of the house was a gos6ip, and the subject of Mrßarrows's death was an inexhaustible topic of interest to her. I had but to mention bis name, and straightway a tide of words flowed from her lips, whioh, if mostly words, contained here and there intimations of certain facts which I felt it was well enough for me' to know, even if they did not amount to anything like an explanation of the tragedy. Among these' was one which qnly.my fear of showing myself tod much interested iv her, theme prevented me from 'probing to the bottom: This was, that for a month at least before' his death Mr Barrows seemed, to her like a changed man. A month— that was about the interval which had elapsed between his first visit to the mill and his last ; an'd the evidence that he showed an alteration of demeanour in that time might have its value, and might not. I resolved to cultivate Mrs Simpson'sjacquaintance, and some bitne put her a question or two that would satisfy me upon this point. ' This determination wag all the easier to make in that I found the rooms I had come to see sufficiently to my-, liking to warrant me in taking them. Not that I should have hesitated to do' this had they been as unattractive as they were pleasant. It wag not their agreeableness 'that won me, but the fact that Mr Barrows's personal belongings had not yet been - moved, and that for a short time at least I should find myself iv possession of his library, and face to face with the Bame articles of tast3 and study which had surrounded him in hi 3 lifetime, and helped to mould, if not to make, the man. 1 should, thus obtain a knowl6d<*o ot hi 3 character, and some day, who knows, might flash upon his secret. For that he possessed one, and was by no means the plain and simple character I had been led fco believe, was apparent to me from the first glimpse I had of these rooms ; there being in every little object that mailed hi taste a certain individuality and purpose that betrayed a stern and mystic soul ; one that could hide itself, perhaps, beneath a practical exterior, but which, in ways like this, must speak, and speak loudly too, of its own inward promptings and tendency. The evening; when I first brought the§e objects under a close and conscientious scrutiny was a memorable one to me. I had moved in early that day, and with a woman's unreasoning caprice had forborne to cast more than the most cursory glance around, being content to see that all was as, I left it at my first visit, and that neither de3k nor library had been disturbed. But" when supper was over, and I could set myself with a free mind to a contemplation of my new surroundings, 1, found that my curiosity could no longer delay the careful tour of inspection to which 1 felt myself invited by the freshness and beauty of the pictures, and one or'two of the statuettes which adorned the walls about me. One painting in especial attracted me, and made me choose for my first contemplation that side of the room on which it hung. It was a copy of Borne French painting, and represented the temptation of a certain saint, A curious choice of subject, ycu may think, to adorn a Protestant clergyman's wall, but if you could have seen it, and marked the extreme expression of mortal struggle on the face of the tempted one, who, with eyes shut, and hand clutching -till it bent the cross of wigs stuck in the crevices of the rocks beneath which ho writhed, waited for thp victory over self that was just beginning tocastita light upon his brow, you would have felt tbut it was good to hang before the eyes of any one in whom conflict of any kind was waging. Upon me the effect was instantaneous, and so real that I have never been able to think of that moment without a sense of awe and rending of the heart. Human passion assumed a new significance in my mmd, and the will and faith of a strong man suffering from its power, yet withstanding ib to the very last gasp by the help of hi 3 trust in God, rope to such an exhalted position in my mind that I felt then, as I feel now whenever I remember this picture, that my whole moral nature had received from its contemplation an impetus towards religion and self-denial. While I was still absorbed in gazing at it, my landlady entered the room, and seeing me posed before the picture, quite sympathisingly exclaimed : "Isn't that a dreadful painting, Miss Sterling, to have in anyone's room ? I don't wonder Mr Barrows wanted to cover it up." "Cover it up ?" I repeated, turning hastily in my surprise. " Yes," she replied, going to a drawer in his desk and taking out a small engraving, which she brought me. *' For nearly a month before his death he had this picture stuck up over the other with pins. You can see the pin-holes " now, if you look ; they went right through the canvas. I thought it a very sensible thing to do, myself; but when I spoke of it to him one day, remarking that I had always thought the picture unfit for anyone to see, he gave me Buch a look that I thought then he must be crazy. But no one else saw anything amiss in him, and, as I did not want to lose a good lodger, I let him stay on, though my mind did sometimes misgive me."' The engraving she had handed me was almost as suggestive as the painting it had been used to conceal ; butat this remarkable statement from Mrs Simpson's lips I laid it quickly down. '• Ycu think he was crazy ?" I asked. "I think he committed stiiqide," she affirmed. 1 turned to the engraving again, and took it up. What a change had come over me that a statement against which I had once so honestly rebelled for Ada's sake should now arouse something' like a sensation of joy in my breast ! s ?, Mrs Simpson, too much interested in her theme to notice me, went confidently on. "You see, folks that live in «the same houee with a person learn to know them as other folks can't. Not that Mr Barrows ever talked to me ; he was a deal too much absorbed in his studies for that; but he ate at my table, and went in and out of my front door, and if a ' Woman cannot learn something about a man under those circumstances, then she is ,n,o good, and that is all I have got to say about her." I was amused and sligjitlj 7 smiled, but she needed no encouragement to' proceed. ♦• The way he would drop into' a brown study over his nieat and potatoes was a j caution to my mind, a minister that don't I eat is — an anomaly," she burst out, I have boarded them before, and I know they like the good things of life as well as anybody. But Mr Barrows, latterly at least, never seemed to see what was on the table before him, but ate because his plate of food was there, and had to be disposed' of in some way. One day, I remember in particular, I had baked dumplings, for he used to be very fond ' of them, and would eat ' two without any urging ; but this day he either did not put enough sauce on them, or else his whole appetite had changed ;, for he sud : denly looked down" at his plate and shud dered, almost .as if he were in a chill, and,*, getting "up,, was going away, when I

summoned up v cbura,p;e to ask if the dumplings were as gdod aa usual. T; He turned at' the dooi. I—l1 — I can see him now-^and mecianically sbakrig hishead.peemedto be trying to' utter souaeapo^ogy. Blithe presently stopped in that attempt, and pointing quickly at ,the table, said, in his accustomed tones , : ( ' You need not make me any_ more desserts, Mrs Simpson. I shall not indulge in them in, the future ;' .and went out without saying whether he was sick or what. And that was the end of the dumplings, and of many a good thing besides." "And is that all-" I began; but ahe broke in before the words were half out of my mouth. "But the strangest thing I ever see in him was this : I have "not eaid much about it, for the people that went to his church are a high and mighty lot, and wouldn't bear a word said against his sanity, even by one as had more opportunities than they of knowing him. But you are a stranger in town, and can't have no such foolish touchiness about a person that is nothing to you, so I will just tell you all about it. You see, when he had visitors— and off and on a good many came— l used to seat them in the parlour below, till I was sure he was ready to recieve them. This had happened one evening, and I had gone up to his door to notify him that a stranger was downstairs, when I heard such a peculiar noise issuing from his room ,that I just stood stock-still on the door-mat to listen. Jt was a swishing sound, followed by a — Miss S l "jrlirig," she suddenly broke in, in a half awe-Struck, half frightened tone, "did you ever hear 1 anyone whipped ? If you have, you will know why I stood shuddering at that door full two minutes before I dared lift my hand and knock. Not that I could believe Mr Barrows was whipping anybody, but the sound was so like it, and I was so certain besides that I heard something like a smothered cry follow it, that nothing short of the most imperative neces city would have given me the courage to call him ; my imagination filling the room with all sorts of frightful images ; imagos that did not fade away in a hurry," Bhe went on, with a look of shrinking terror about her which I am not sure was not reflected in my own face, "when, after the longest waiting I ever had at his door, he slowly came across tne room and opened it, showing me a face as white as a sheet, and a hand that trembled so that he dropped the card «I gave him and had to pick it up. Had there been a child there " "But there wasn't!" I interrupted, shocked and forced to deferd him in spite of myself. " No, nor nobody else. For when he went down-stairs, I looked in and there was no one there, and nothing uncommon abont the room, except that I thought his bookcase looked as if it had been moved. And it had ; for When I swept the room — it did not need sweeping, but one can't wait for ever to satisfy their curiosity — I just looked behind that case, and what do you think I found ? A strap — a regular leather strap— just such aa " " Great God !" I interrupted , •• do you think he had been using it when you went to the door?" " I do," she said. " I think he had a fit of something Irke insanity upon him, and had been swinging that strap Well, I will not say against what, fo^ I do not know, but might it not have been against the fiends and goblins with which crazy people sometimes imagine they are surrounded ?" " Possibly," I acefuiesced, though my tone could not have been one of any strong conviction. "Insane persons sometimes do strange things," she continued ; " and that he did not show hL elf violent before folks is no sign he did not let himself out sometimes when he was alone. The very fact that he restrained himself when he went into the pulpit aad visited among his friends, may have made him wilder when ke got all by himself. I am sure I remember having heard of a case where a man lived for ten years in a town without a single neighbour suspecting him of insanity ; yet his wife suffered constantly from his freaks, and finally fell a victim to his violence." "But Mr Barrows was such a brilliant] man," I objected. " His sermons up to the | last were models of eloquence." ' Oh, he could preach," she assented. Seeing that she was not to be moved in her convictions, I ventured upon a few questions. "Have you ever thought," I asked, " what it was that created such a change in him ? You say you noticed it for a | month before* his death ; could anything have happened to disturb him at any | time ? ' "Not that I know of," she answered, with great readiness. "I was away for a week in August, and it was when I first came back that I observed how different he was from what he had been before. I thought at first it waa the hot weather, but heat don't make one restless and unfit to sit quiet in one's chair. Nor does it drive a man to work as if the very evil one was in him, keeping the light' burning sometimes till two in the morning, while he wr^Le and walked, and walked and wrote, till I thought my head would burst with sympathy for him. "He was finishing a book, was he not? I think I have heard he left a completed manusciipt behind him." " Yea ; and don't you think it very singu- 4 lar that the last word should have been written, and the whole parcel done up and sent away to his publisher, two days before his death, if he did not know what was going to happen to him ?" " And was it ?" I inquired. " Yes, \t was ; for I was in the room when he signed his name to v, and heard his sigfh of relief, and saw him, too, when ,a little while afterwards, he took the bundle out to the post-office. I remember thinking. ' Well, now rest is ia store for him, poor soul r " Did you know that Mr Barrows wag engaged ? ' I suddenly asked, unable toresfcrain my impatience any longer. "No, I did not," she rather sharply replied, as if her lack of knowledge on that subject had been rather a sore point with her. " I m^ay have suspected there was someone he I ,waB interested in, but I am sure nobody ever-imagined her as being the one. Poor girl, she must have thought a heap of him to die in that way." She looked at me as she said this,* anticipating, perhaps, a return of the confidences she had. made me. But I could not talk of Ada to her, and after a moment of silent waiting ehe went eagerly on. " Perhaps a lover's quarrel lay at the bottom of the whole matter, " she suggested. " Miss Reynolds was a sweet girl, and loved him very devotedly, of course ; but they might havo had a tiff for all that, aud in a nature as sensitive as his, the least thing will sometimes t nhinge the mind "■ *• But I could only shake my head at this ; the supposition was at once too painful and absurd. , "Well, well," the garrulous woman went on, in no wise abashed^ "there are.some things that come easy, and some things that come hard.' . Why Mr Barrows wentthe way he did is one. of, the hard things to understand, but that he did go,. and that of his own frenzied will, lam," as .sure as that two and two make four, and four frouMour,. leaves' nothing.", \, ,} :- ~ u «. I thought of all the others who eeoretly or openly expressed ,th© some opinion, and

felt my heart grow lighter. Then I thought of Khoda CoHwel, t ana then . i \ was it," I aßked, " when you wore away in August ? Was it before tho, eevep'teentb, or after? I inquire, because,—,—" ""''./> , I But evidently ehe did not care why I inquired. ' , \ " It was during that week," ehe broke in. "I reme.mber,because it was on the sixteenth that Mr Pollard died, and I was not here to attend the funeral. • I came back " ' But it was no matter to me now when she came back., She had not been at home the night when Mr Barrows was beguiled into his first .visit to trie mill, and she had mentioned a name I had long been eager to^ have introduced into the conversation. , "You knew Mr Pollard ?" 1 therefore interposed without ceremony, "He wa& a very rich man, was he not ?" " Yes, "she assented. "I suppose he owne the whole property, now that the old lady is I hope Mr, Harrington will be eatlBfaed. ' He just married that girl for her money. That, I am sure, you will hear everybody cay." v ** Yet she is exceedingly pretty," I suggested. " Oh, yes, too pretty; she makes one think of a wax doll. Bub these English lords don't care for beauty without there is a deal of hard cash to back it, and if Agnee Pollard had been a 9 poor as— what other beauty have we in our town ?" " There is a girl called Rhoda Colwell," I ventured. "Rhoda Colwell! Do you call her c beauty ? I know some folks think she is— well, then, let up cay as Rhoda Col well, he would have made her any proposal sooner than that of his hand." " And is Mr Harrington a lord ?" I asked, feeling that I was lighting upon Borne very strange truths. "He is the next heir to one. A nephew, I believe, or else a cousin. I cannot keep track of all those fine distinctions in people I never saw." " They were married privately and right after Mr Pollard's death, I have heard." "Yes, and for no other earthly reason that one ever heard of than to have it settled and done ; for Mr Harrington did not take away his wife from the country ; nor does Ihe intend to as far as 1 can learn. Everybody thought it a very strange proceeding, and none too respectful to Mr Pollard's memory either." I thought of all I had heard and seen in that house, and wondered. "Mr Pollard was such anice man too," she pursued, in amusing tone. "JSfotacomniand ing person, like his wife, but so good and kind and attentive to poor folks like me. 1 never liked a man more than I did Mi Pollard, and I have always thought that if he had had a different kind of mother for his children— but'what is the use of criticis ing the poor woman now? She is dead, and so is he, and the children will do very well now with all the money to back them iD any caprice they may have." " You seem to know them well," I remarked, fearful she would observe the emotion I could not quite keep out of my face. "No," she returned, with an assumption of grimness, which was evidently meant for sarcasm, " not well. Everyone knows the Pollards, but I never heard anyone say they knew them well." " Didn't Mr Barrows?" I tremblingly inquired, anxious for her rerjly, yet fearful of connecting those two names. "Not that I ever saw," she returned, showing no special interest in the questioa, or in the fact that it was seemingly of some importance to me. "Didn't they;. use to come here to see him ?" I proceeded, emboldened by her evident lack of perspicuity. " None of them ?" I added, seeing her about to shake her head. " Oh, Dwight or Guy would come here if they had any business with him," she allowed. "But that isn't intimacy; the Pollards are intimate with nobody." She seemed to be rather proud of it, and as I did not see my way just then to acquire any further information, I sank with a weary air into a chair, turning the convorsatioc as I did so upon other and totally irrelevant topics. But no topic was ot much interest to her that did not in some way involve Mr Barrows ; and after a few minutes of desultory chat, she pleaded the excuse of business and hurriedly left the room. (To be continued.)