A Double Tragedy.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1870, 13 February 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

A Double Tragedy.

I said " good night," as U3ual, and left Uncle Sidney Stone in the library. The hall lamp had been turned down, and was burning dimly as I shut the door behind me and started upstairs. Somehow the heavy shadows on the staircase made ire feel" creepy," as uncle would have said, and a strange feeling, as if I were not alone, came over me.

The impression grew more distinct, and I hurried up the steps, seized with a terror altogether new to me, and one which prompted me to make each step quicker than the one preceding. I did not stop to ascertain the cause, or to question the influence impelling me in this novel fit of cowardice, buc flew across the corridor to my rooms as if a gaunt spectre was in full pursuit, instead of the quietness of Piedmont gathering about me. Opening my door I rushed into the light and warmth it my apartments, with such relief coming over me that I sank into the nearest seat laughing hysterically.

AVhat ailed me. I had no idea ; I had been my uncle's housekeeper for four years, and never had such an experience before. Uncle Sidney was a bachelor, and taking a fancy to me he had installed me general manager at Piedmont House, with the promise that at his death I should be his sole heir. When he had fir3t proposed this to me I hesitated, but the prospect of some time becoming mistress vi this lovely home in my own right, wa9 a thing not to be lightly considered by a poor school-ma'am, so I consented.

Well, we had gotten along finely— Uncle Sidney and I — and I had yet to a repent being sat down at Piedmont gates four years previous to my story.

On the evening in question, we had been reading together in the library, as was our custom during the long winter evenings, and I had left him deeply engrossed in a nrw work on Spiritualism, which thing happened to be his particular hobby. " To be of any importance in this world," uncle said, "one must have a hobby," and to reach that much desired altitude, he had embraced spiritualism. I never could bring myself to believe in it, and hence.according to the law of antagonism, I was fast becoming a very hardened d-'sbeliever in uncle's pet theories.

We had often, as a matter of consequence, argued the matter pro and con, and had been indulging in our favorite pastime at some length on this particular evening ; so when I had gained my usual quietnes3 of nerve equilibrium, I said to myself, "Pshaw I it was all that horrid Spiritualism."

Then I resolved to never argue again on the subject, if it served me like that, making me a desperate coward.

But that harangue delivered to my reflection in the mirror, while I braided my hair for the night, was all surface work. I felt inwardly tnat something was wrong in the hall, in spite of lip protest.

Should Igo down and see ? I could make a pretext ;of getting ray book of drawings which I left in the library ; I could go to the kitchen for a glass of water, and no one would have a suspicion of my presentiment, or whatever it was. I had no idea what sort of an influence had come over me ; I only felt, in a shuddering, dazed way, that something was terribly wrong in Piedmont House, or — shortly would be,

I stood irresolute ; should I go ? Yes ; Uncle Sidney would protect m« from — well, from whatever was there. I put my treacling fingers on the door-hand !e and hesitated. " Fudge !" I said, " this is sheer foolishness." Then I heard uncle leaving the library, and I gave up going down stairs to be laughed at thereafter, I thought.

I had just come to this conclusion when I heard a struggling sound below which froze my blood in my veins with terror ; then & smothered curse, a groan of intense agony, followed by a fall, came to my ears throu»h the door ajar, and some one shut the outer door.

For a moment I stood trying to scream, but I could only whisper ; then a new horror seized me, and I rushed down the steps to find dear Uncle Sidney prone on the matting, stabbed to his heart with a gleaming poniard, whose polished hilt shone in the feeble rays of the hall lamp. 1 shrieked for help and knplt beside my dying relative. At the sound of mj voice he opened his eyes and moved his lips. 1 put ray ear down to catch his whispered words.

'• Burglars," he said ; " save yourself, Ella. Good bye 1 lam going.'

As my unearthly shriek rang out through the silent house, the servants were on their feet and rushing into the hall.

" Murdered !"' I moaned, and fell senseless across the body of my dead uncle.

When I became conscious ajrain, the sound of strange feet echoed through the house, and all was excitement and confusion. Old Martha, the cook, was bending over me with white face, applying rostorative3, and the family physiciau stood near.

" Murds.Te<t 1" I tried to shriek, at the same time attempting to rise, but could do neither They forcd some medicine through my lips, and I drifted off into the unknown ; I had taken an opiate. I was Weeks before I could bo about the house, and of course my uncle had been long buried.

On the night of the murder they had found a crimson silk handkerchief das tied vith blood, at the street entrance,, which doubtless the assassin had dropped. This, together with the pitikss blade drawn from Uncle Sidney's dead bocf^, they pave me, after they had been hawked about from one point to another in vain attempt at finding a clue to the murderer.

I took them ; and holding them in my left hand, I raised my right to heaven with the solemn vow to unearth the mystery surrounding the terrible death of my unde.

•'All my life," I said, "should be deToted to this one end until I should succeed."

If we but knew, sometimes, when we register such vows before high heaven, how short the mortal arm, we would hesitate. But I felt that I should keep this oath of duty ; 3 r et had I known how it would be fulfilled, I think I should rather have plunged the bla<ie into my own heart, had it not been for vengeance.

Vengeance 1 that word saved me.

For three weary, desolate years Iseavched, not openly, but covertly, and travelled some, of course, in consequence. In all that time, not a single suspicious clue had I been able to come at. But things may happen in a day, which may not happen in a century, and so I found it.

It was the " seaside sonson " at N , and I was there ; not on my hunt exictly, this timo had 1 gone. My health was f*st giving way under ihe tense strain of my days of watching and nights of sleepless calculating; sol had been ordered there " for rest." As if I could rest while the murderer remained unhung I But I went to N , nevertheless, at tue solicitations of friends, and — it is th"> regret of my lifa that I ever saw the gay watering place. Among the many I met there that season was a rery handsome young gentleman of wealth and decHraly lino culture. In a few days we became fiieuds ; something of subtle power drew my very soul to him. Was it any wonder, then, that in even our short stay at N he had completely won my heart and had my p--omi3o to become his wife tue following Christmas ?

No, it was uot strange, neither was it singular that be loved me desperately — almost to madness I know people laughed and remarked that an old maid a infatuation had captured the handsome Leo Barton ; but he did n t cure for my twenty and eight y< j ars, for he always reminded me that he " was just live years my senior for all that, and always should be." He said, too, that " people laughed because they were envious of our happiness."

Be that as it may have been, our blissful dream was cut off suddenly by an awful awakening. The terror of that doomful night left my hair white as the drivensuoir.l can only look back now and thank God that I was not crazed hopelessly, and, too, that I was snatched by circumstances from as t*ful fate-

"mo season was about over, aim wo wsro-walk-ing on tho sands — Lee and T — by nnouliglit. Wo weie hau-ig "a little good-bye visit," ho taid, before wo separated to meet at tho merry Christmas timo for our bridal.

On that particular night I became very communicative, and before 1 knew it I had given him the full particulars of my uncle's uuumely death, and had also describ d 1119 handkerchief and silver-hilted dagger, which I said I still retained in hope I should one day hunt down tho murderer, with their mate help. " It is very likely you will," ho said In a strange, far-away voice, which I attributed at the tirno to intense sympathy. After we returned to the hotel he expressed a desire to sco tho poniard, at tho same timo telling me if I would intrust it to his care awhile he thought he might ba able to identify the owner.

I gave him the dagger without thinking much abnut it, only that he would be able to help me.

How well I remember his last words as he left mo in tha hall that night ; they were the last words ho ever addressed to mortal ears cs well.

Drawing me close to his loving heart ho kissed me onco, twice, and held me for some momenta in silence. What his thoughts were in those, to me, sweet, happy seconds, remains a secret ; but I can guess all too surely now since it is all over.

After some minutes had elapsod, he sighed deeply, painfully, and, looking down into my upturned face, he said : " To be separated from you, my darling, means death !" " But we shall not be separated only until Christmas," I made haste to reply, for the sound of his voice sent a keen sense of sorrow to my heart.

He did not answer my half interrogative but said instead : " There are things more to be drpaded than death ; beside which, death is kind, little love, very kind." Then ho kissed mo passionately for the last time, and I went to my room. I was conscious of his watchingme all the way upstairs. As I reached the upper landing, I turned and looked down. Lee was standing just where I had lefii him, looking after me with such a hopeless, helpless yearning depicted on his handsome faco that I was tempted to go back to him, but did not. I remembar thinking at tho time what a true, tender soul he possessed to be moved at tho rocital of my sorrows, and was sorry that I hnd troubled him with them. I kissed my hand to him with a bright smile, meaning to cheer him ; why shouldn't I ? He was all I had, dear, devoted Lee !

Tiie next mGrning they found him on the floor of his room with the dagger — cruel, murderous blade — driven to the hilt iv his heart.

Ho left a letter on his dressing-table addressed to me in which he stated that I had captured tha murderer and he had killed him.

" I didn't mean to murder your uncle, my darling," he wrote " I had been to a wine-supper and, my brain being somewhat confused in consequence, I mistook his residence for that of a friend. He mistook me for a burglar and clutched me ; I, in my excitement, stabbed him. Seeing what I had done I fled — fled tho city — knowing that I had killed him. The dagger was one I came across in a pawnshop and bought, intending to carry it to my uncle who is a collector of relics.

"My heart is broken ; and its blood may as well flow in further expiation of. my crime. Althougli it is de&tli to bo separated from you, little lovo, you are the gainer, for you have escap2d being the wife of an intemperate man and a — murderer 1 I believe that God has forgiven me, darling ; good-bye." When they told me he was dead I started toward them with a wail bursting from my bloodless lips; "I am dying, too!" I moaned, but I was not ; and they said, " See ! her hair is turning white."

After ha was prepared for burial, I went to him, my lnndsome Lee ! All night I sat beside his inanimate form, stunned, dumb with the agony of a sorrow too deep for tears.

In the morning they took him away ; I went back to my room and beheld my haggard face in the mirror. They were right, my raven tresses he had praised were white !

" Alas !" I said in hollow tones, " this is not I!" But it was, and I hare lived ten long, desolate years since I hunted my uncle's murderer to the death.